Why Vitellius, the Little-Known Roman Emperor, Haunts Artistic Masterpieces

The legendary glutton pops up in numerous works of art throughout the centuries. Renowned classicist Mary Beard unravels the mysteries behind Vitellius’ ubiquitous appearances in artworks and sheds light on the significance of his portrayal. 

Most people nowadays aren’t familiar with Emperor Vitellius — but he was once well known as a depraved glutton.

Chances are you’ve never heard of Emperor Vitellius — he ruled the Roman Empire for just eight months in 69 CE during the civil wars that followed the overthrow of Nero. 

But despite his brief reign, Vitellius left a lasting impression — though not necessarily a positive one. Of course, that’s nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Roman emperors. 

Like many of his cohorts, Vitellius was known for his vices, particularly his gluttony. His signature dish, the Shield of the Goddess Minerva, was a concoction that included livers of pipefish, peacock brains, flamingo tongues and lamprey innards. Umm, I’ll pass, thanks. 

Not surprisingly, the adjective “Vitellian” was once commonly used to describe something that was over-the-top and outlandish.

In addition to his gluttony, Vitellius was reputed to be a sadist, quoted as having said, “The stench of a dead enemy is wonderful. The stench of a dead fellow citizen is even better.” 

Mary Beard, a famous classicist, and author of the new book Emperor of Rome: Ruling the Ancient Roman World

And “in his spare time, he was a sexual pervert,” quipped Mary Beard, one of the most renowned classics scholars and author of the book SPQR, during a lecture at the Art Institute of Chicago. 

Beard didn’t get into it, but let’s just say Tiberius gave Vitellius the nickname Tight Ass — and it had nothing to do with being stingy. 

The Feast in the House of Levi by Paul Veronese, 1573

The painting has not one but two figures modeled after Emperor Vitellius!

Vitellius: The Where’s Waldo of the Ancient World

Despite his lackluster reputation, Vitellius’ image has been copied, reinvented and reincorporated into Western art for centuries. Beard explored the significance of this often-overlooked figure and why he continues to pop up in art even today.

Take, for example, Paul Veronese’s painting The Feast in the House of Levi from 1573. Painted in Venice for a religious order, it was originally intended to depict the Last Supper. But when the Inquisition objected to this representation because it included animals, a jester, Germans and a server with a bloody face, Veronese changed its name to another feast from the Bible.

Beard pointed out a figure in the painting who’s gazing across at Jesus, utterly transfixed. It’s none other than Vitellius. So what’s he doing in there? 

It’s revealing a major coup for Christ. “Here, Jesus is converting one of the most despicable, immoral Roman emperors ever,” she explained. 

But, strangely enough, that’s not the only Vitellius in the artwork. His face also shows up as a server. “This is a clever spin on Vitellius’ gluttony because here we see one of Rome’s biggest overconsumers being turned into a server himself,” Beard said. 

If you want to show depravity, as Thomas Couture did in his 1847 work The Romans in Their Decadence, you need look no further than Emperor Vitellius, whose face can be found below the topless woman on the left.

In Thomas Couture’s painting The Romans in Their Decadence (nicknamed The Orgy) from 1847, Vitellius creeps up again. He’s shown in the midst of a pile of drunken revelers, so comatose he doesn’t even notice the naked woman near him.

An American magazine declared this work “the greatest sermon in paint ever rendered,” Beard told us. It was even suggested that a reproduction of it should be displayed prominently in every school in the United States — naked woman and all.

The canvas is filled with sprawling, drunken revelers in various states of undress. While it’s showing a graphic depiction of Ancient Rome’s moral decline, there was also a contemporary message to it: People viewed it as an attack on the disparities of wealth in France at the time and the blatant immorality of the bourgeoisie.

Vitellius Dragged Through the Streets of Rome by Georges Rochegrosse, 1883

The emperor ruled only briefly, and met a gruesome end — beaten, impaled on a hook and thrown into the Tiber River.

“If you knew what happened to Vitellius at the very end, when he’d lost power — dragged through the streets, tortured, beaten to death, impaled on a hook and thrown into the Tiber — if you knew that, I think you’d see in this figure a strong hint that this scene of debauchery and the modern lifestyle it evoked was doomed,” Beard said. “A very nasty punishment was around the corner.”

This painting, by Jean-Léon Gérôme, was once known as Hail, Caesar! We Who Are About to Die Salute You — until it was spotted that the emperor was actually Vitellius.

And there’s Jean-Léon Gérôme’s 19th century painting of the gladiatorial games — a representation that’s said to have inspired director Ridley Scott’s Gladiator. It’s a painting known as Hail, Caesar! We Who Are About to Die Salute You. But if you zoom in on the emperor, it’s — sure enough — none other than Vitellius. There’s no doubt; it’s even got his name painted below him. 

The title changed to Gladiators Before Vitellius. “Now, learned pedants, of which I know there are some in the audience, may have spotted a historical problem here,” Beard said, “which is this is clearly in the Coliseum, but the Coliseum wasn’t yet built by the reign of Vitellius.”

The legendary Grimani Vitellius, which pops up in numerous paintings, has a shocking secret.

Busted! The Grimani Vitellius

So why does Vitellius keep showing up in artworks? 

For the most part, we can thank a bust that’s become known as the Grimani Vitellius.  

This famous ancient image of Vitellius was excavated in Rome in the early 16th century under the direction of Cardinal Domenico Grimani and was bequeathed by him to the city of Venice upon his death in 1523.

“Now, I am by no means the first to spot how ubiquitous the Grimani Vitellius is,” Beard continued. But what was the significance? “Why copy this image of Vitellius? What extra does it bring to your painting if you include him? What ideological or moral register is at work?”

The Grimani Vitellius bust became the perfect symbol of an amoral glutton — which is why it has been copied hundreds of times from the 15th century on.

Boy Drawing Before the Bust of a Roman Emperor by Michael Sweerts, circa 1660

The bust itself even appears in paintings, such as Boy Drawing Before the Bust of a Roman Emperor by Michael Sweerts, from the mid-1600s.

“You can say this is just a convenient visual source to copy,” Beard said. “But I think you miss a lot if you don’t also think `Vitellius.’ When people use recognizable faces in paintings, they usually do it for a reason. And they expect you to recognize it.”

There could be a darker intent in this work, Beard suggested. “Anyone who knew anything would surely have said, Why on Earth did they put this little innocent lad to draw that sexually perverted monster — even if he is the acme of the craft of sculpture. And I can’t help thinking … there are bigger questions about the potentially corrupting force of art.”

But that fat fuck is having the last laugh. The Grimani Vitellius isn’t even a portrait of Vitellius! Technical details, such as the way the eyes have been drilled, make it clear that it dates from the 2nd century and cannot possibly be Vitellius. 

The bust, also known as the Pseudo-Vitellius, actually depicts an unknown Roman probably from the 120s or 130s CE who, by coincidence, was unfortunate enough to look very much like the coin portrait of the emperor. 

A gold coin depicting Vitellius. The emperor’s depiction is what led to the mislabeling of the Pseudo-Vitellius bust.

Emperor Vitellius: The Art World’s Fascination With an Infamous Ruler

It’s fascinating to think that this bust, which was not even of Vitellius, spread like wildfire and has had such a lasting impact in art. 

So the next time you’re wandering through an art gallery or museum, keep an eye out for Vitellius. Thanks to Beard, I predict he’ll have a comeback. –Wally

Forest Lawn Cemetery: Lost Among the Dead

Buffalo, New York’s famous resting ground is home to the Blocher Monument and the graves of President Millard Fillmore and Rick James (yes, of “Super Freak” fame). 

Wally (and Duke) had a gay old time in Forest Lawn Cemetery — though it was a tough one to navigate on foot.

I’ve always been fascinated by old cemeteries. In college, I taped a set of slides of weathered limestone headstones from the antebellum Laurel Grove Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia, over the diffused light panels on either side of my bathroom’s medicine cabinet. One of the slides showed a tombstone for a little girl, inscribed with the epithet, “Our Little Della.” A few of them were so old and brittle that they were almost translucent. 

So, when my husband, Wally, and I were planning our trip to Buffalo, New York, I knew we had to add Forest Lawn Cemetery to our itinerary. I remembered wandering through it many times in my early 20s, when I went to college nearby, and I couldn’t wait to see it again with him, as he shares my appreciation of Victorian funerary art and expansive 19th century parks for the dead. 

“She gushed about having seen the grave of Rick James, the singer-songwriter of “Super Freak” fame, an ’80s hit that celebrated a kinky girl — “the kind you don’t take home to mother.””

An add to celebrate Forest Lawn’s 75th year, paying homage to its origins at the site of Judge Granger’s homestead.

The Birth of Forest Lawn Cemetery 

Prior to being formally consecrated as a cemetery in the summer of 1850, the land belonged to a man named Erastus Granger. Granger built his homestead and farm on the northernmost parcel, working the tillable parts of the hilly terrain. 

He was appointed superintendent of the Six Nations Agency by President Thomas Jefferson where he maintained a close relationship with the Seneca Nation, one of the tribes that occupied the region. 

After Granger died, Buffalo attorney William D. Clarke purchased the 80-acre estate from his widow and two sons. Clarke intended to establish a rural garden cemetery on the site, which was a mix of dense forest and meadows. This topography is how the cemetery earned its name, Forest Lawn. 

When graveyards were associated with disease, cemeteries were built in rural areas and acted as gorgeous greenspaces.

The Rise of the Rural Cemetery 

By the late 1800s, a growing fear of disease led to a change in the way people thought about death and burial. Cramped and overcrowded church graveyards were seen as unsanitary and as a threat to public health. People began to seek out more peaceful and bucolic settings for their loved ones’ final resting places, which led to the rise of the rural cemetery movement. 

The location of these cemeteries was often outside city limits for both hygienic and aesthetic reasons. They were beautiful greenspaces, with forested groves, meandering footpaths and elaborate monuments. One of the most famous examples is Père Lachaise in Paris, France. Founded in 1804, it quickly became the blueprint for many others. 

As cities expanded, rural cemeteries like Forest Lawn were swallowed up by urban sprawl. Although they were no longer considered “rural” in the traditional sense, they retained their pastoral beauty and tranquil atmosphere. 

The monument to Seneca Nation chief Sagoyewatha, also known as Red Jacket, stands atop a column inside the Delaware Ave entrance. He got his nickname from the red wool British infantry coat he wore during the American Revolution. 

Famous Graves: Millard Fillmore and Friends

Forest Lawn has its share of famous residents, including: Millard Fillmore, the 13th president of the United States; John J. Albright and Seymour H. Knox, the founders of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery; Red Jacket, the orator and chief of the Seneca Nation, who supported the neutrality of his nation during the War of 1812; and George Norman Pierce, the creator of the Pierce-Arrow Motor Car. 

But Wally and I were more interested in seeing a few of the more unusual monuments of its permanent residents. 

These eight bells were originally part of a set of 43 that was forged in Le Mans, France and hung in the steeple of St. Joseph’s Cathedral.

For Whom the Bell Tolls 

Our first stop was an impressive steel structure holding eight verdigris copper and tin alloy bells. The carillon, located near the main office and wrought iron gates of the Delaware Avenue entrance, has a fascinating history. 

The largest of the group is the Oishei Memorial Bell, dedicated to the late businessman and philanthropist John R. Oishei (pronounced “Oh-shy”). It sits upon an elaborate marble plinth that was taken from the demolished St. Joseph Cathedral, which once stood at the corner of Delaware Avenue and Utica Street. This particular bell weighs in at 1.5 tons (3,000 pounds), and is a testament to the craftsmanship of Bolée et Fils, the French foundry that cast them in 1866. 

The Oishei bell's surface bears the Latin inscription “Laudate Dominum Omnes Gentes,” which means “Praise the Lord, All Ye Nations” — more commonly known as Psalm 117. Note the gargoyles guarding the top of the bell.

The eight bells were originally part of a 43-bell set commissioned by John Timon, the first bishop of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Buffalo. They were intended to hang in the bell tower of St. Joseph’s Cathedral on Franklin Street — but by the time they arrived in Buffalo, Bishop Timon had died. The bells were installed in the belfry, but were too large for its interior and never worked properly. They were eventually removed and put in storage, where they remained until the new St. Joseph Cathedral was built. 

Although the new cathedral was larger and more grand than the previous cathedral, its marble-clad exterior was ill-suited for harsh Buffalo winters. By 1924, the north and south transepts required major repairs, and by 1927, the towers were so unstable that they had to be removed. The bells were once again placed into storage, this time in the sanctuary’s basement. Over the next 48 years, 35 of the original 43 bells were stolen, leaving only eight. 

The second incarnation of the cathedral was demolished, but Michael Dozoretz of Lancaster Steel Service Company salvaged the remaining bells. The aforementioned largest of these  was purchased by Patricia Colby-Oishei and given to Forest Lawn Cemetery in 1975 to commemorate her father. 

Oishei made his fortune by perfecting and marketing wiper blades for cars, which had not yet been widely used in 1916. He founded Trico Products Corporation, which still specializes in integrated windshield wiper systems today. The bell is also a testament to the generosity of the Oishei family, who have donated so much to Buffalo's cultural and charitable institutions. 

The seven additional bells were donated by Dozoretz and suspended from the graceful metal frame above the Oishei Memorial Bell in 2020. They ring on the hour and play the De Profundis, a Latin adverb meaning “Out of the Depths of Sorrow,” as funeral processions enter the cemetery grounds. 

The lavish Blocher Monument (located in Section 11), is hard to miss. Look inside: It depicts Nelson Blocher, son of John and Elizabeth Neff Blocher, in repose. Above his head, a scantily clad angel beckons him to Heaven.

Blocher Monument: A Tragic Tale of Love and Loss

Our next stop was the Blocher Monument, one of the most unusual and elaborate memorials in Forest Lawn Cemetery. Architecturally speaking, it resembles a folly, or perhaps a mechanical clock, ready to spring to life. The towering structure is topped by a fanciful two-tiered bell-shaped affair that reminds me of the pink cable knit hat worn by the cartoon character Dumb Donald on The Adventures of Fat Albert, complete with a pompom on top. It reportedly weighs 29 tons, is supported by five pilasters, and is enclosed in plate glass. (I almost don’t even want to tell you what Wally thought it looked like. Oh fine: He called it the Butt Plug.)

There are three crypts beneath a moveable slab in the floor — one for each of the Blocher parents and their son, Nelson. Rumor has it there was a fourth reserved for Nelson’s long-lost love, Katherine. 

According to local lore, Nelson Blocher, the only child of John and Elizabeth Blocher, was caught up in an unfortunate affair. A bachelor at age 34, he fell madly in love with Katherine Margaret Sullivan, the family’s 20-year-old maid. Once their relationship was discovered, Nelson’s parents were keen to end it. They felt that Katherine was beneath their son's social standing, so they sent him off to Italy on a buying trip to purchase leather goods for the family business and dismissed her. 

When he returned from Italy, he was heartbroken to discover that Katherine was gone. Some say that Nelson searched for her in vain, while others maintained that he returned home with a mysterious illness. Whatever the truth may be, Nelson’s health declined rapidly, and he died a year later at the age of 37. 

Devastated by their son's untimely death, John and Elizabeth commissioned an elaborate monument to commemorate his life. The four life-sized figures rendered in white marble were sculpted by the Swiss-born Italian artist Frank Torrey. The centerpiece of the memorial features Nelson reclining in repose, one leg folded beneath the other, clutching the one earthly possession left behind by Katherine: a Bible. 

His parents gaze at his passive supine form. Nelson’s father, John, made his fortune from real estate investments and footwear manufacturing. His figure stands with his right arm resting on a broken pillar, symbolizing a life cut short. His mother, Elizabeth, holds a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a single rose in the other, depicting the bond between mother and child. A winged angel hovers above Nelson, holding a floral crown, presumably to be placed on the young man’s head as he ascends to Heaven.

The Firemen's Monument (Section 8) boasts a 17-foot-tall granite pedestal engraved with the names of the Buffalo firefighters who had died by 1901 battling the blazes that ravaged the city, which was primarily constructed of wood. It’s surrounded by concentric circles of additional firefighter graves. 

Exploring Forest Lawn Cemetery  

While Wally and I were walking through the cemetery, we met a woman from Savannah, Georgia, who was spending the afternoon sightseeing while her son was getting settled at nearby Canisius College. As we chatted with her, she enthusiastically gushed about having seen the grave of Rick James, the singer-songwriter of “Super Freak” fame, an ’80s hit that celebrated a kinky girl — “the kind you don’t take home to mother.”

According to our new acquaintance, it was the coolest thing she’d seen all day and it wasn’t far from where we were headed. She indicated that it was just up the road to the left. We thanked her for the tip and continued to follow the route with the white, yellow and blue stripes. 

The chapel at Forest Lawn dates back to 1882 and was constructed of stone taken from the cemetery’s own onsite quarry. The angel statue is in remembrance of lost children.

After consulting the map we had picked up at the Delaware and West Delavan Avenue entrance, Wally suggested we follow the yellow line that leads to the cemetery's “mausoleums.” As we rounded a bend, I spotted the Egyptian Revival memorial for Edwin Gilbert and his wife Mary Ellen. 

The white granite monument features a raised pedestal with sloping sides, a cavetto cornice adorned with a winged sun disk and the name “E. Gilbert” engraved vertically on the front. Atop the pedestal is an imposing sphinx, likely inspired by the one at Giza. Gilbert was a maltster, a maker of malt, which is the main ingredient used to make beer, along with water. He was also a member of Buffalo’s Merchant Exchange. The cartouche on the sphinx’s chest includes hieroglyphics of an ankh, a reed and water. 

A reclining sphinx wearing the traditional nemes headcloth of Egyptian royalty sits atop a large pedestal with the name “E. Gilbert”‘ engraved on the front. It can be found in Section 8.

We forged ahead and somehow managed to bypass James’ headstone. Meanwhile, we found ourselves circling Mirror Lake. That was okay with me, because I had wanted to see the Three Graces fountain. It’s a replica of the original statuary designed in 1909 by Charles Cary Rumsey for the Hudson Valley estate of his future father-in-law, Edward Henry Harriman. Rumsey was the son of a prominent Buffalo family, and he was also Laurence Rumsey Goodyear’s uncle. 

The bronze sculpture beautifully depicts the three daughters of Zeus and Euryoneme, each of whom has a unique gift to bestow on humanity: Aglaia (Elegance), Eurphersyne (Mirth) and Thalia (Youthful Beauty). The fountain was placed in Mirror Lake in 1987 to commemorate Goodyear’s 40th year of service on the Board of Trustees of Forest Lawn. 

The original Three Graces fountain was commissioned for sculptor Charles Cary Rumsey’s father-in-law, railroad magnate E.H. Harriman for his palatial Hudson River estate, Arden House. A replica decorates Mirror Lake.

Like other cemeteries of the period, waterfront property was in high demand. Many impressive mausoleums skirt the pond’s edge. 

Waterfront property is desirable even for the dead.

This white marble memorial honors George Kingsley Birge, who lead both M.H. Birge & Sons, a renowned wallpaper manufacturer, and the George Pierce Company, which produced the Pierce-Arrow automobile, once favored by presidents and Hollywood elite.

The second time we encountered our new friend was by the gravestone of Sarah M. Hinson (1841-1926). If you, like me, have memories of placing your hand over your heart and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in elementary school, you can trace this tradition back to this woman. Hinson is remembered as a patriotic Buffalo schoolteacher who was passionate about teaching her students to respect the American flag. She chose June 14, 1891, as the date for her first Flag Day celebration because it was the day in 1777 when Congress officially recognized the Stars and Stripes of our national flag. Buffalonians affectionately refer to her as the Mother of Flag Day, which was proclaimed an official holiday by President Woodrow Wilson in 1916. 

Aspiration, a bronze statue of a cloaked female figure is the work of sculptor Harriet Frishmuth. Cast in 1926, it commemorates iron mogul William A. Rogers and his wife, Eleanor Stillman Rogers. 

Wally and I had deviated from the yellow lined route after realizing the “mausoleums” were actually just the places that hold cremated remains at Forest Lawn. We complained  about how hard it was to navigate the cemetery. (Hinson’s grave is in Section 1, and we were trying to locate Section 7 — despite the difference between numbers, we were actually quite close.) 

Ms. Savannah admitted that she had gotten turned around in her car a few times. She then proceeded to share a personal story about her supernatural experience, telling us how she had captured a ghost of a woman in a photo she took while visiting the Pirates’ House, a historic tavern in Savannah that was made famous in the book Treasure Island. 

Apparently she had brought a spirit home with her. After her son saw her doppelgänger and freaked out, Ms. Savannah decided it was time to exorcize the spirit from her home. So she made a pilgrimage to the Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp in Florida, which was founded in 1894 by George P. Colby, an itinerant medium from Pike, New York. The town is home to a century-old community of mediums and healers who believe people retain their identity after death as spirits. She finished her commentary by mentioning that her son made her promise not to bring any non-corporeal guests back from her visit to Forest Lawn. We said goodbye and continued to search for the permanent residence of Isaiah H. Hughes. 

Obelisks were all the rage at Forest Lawn — and we couldn’t figure out which one was for the magician known as the Fakir of Ava.

I had intended to find the modest memorial to Hughes, a magician and illusionist known as the exotic Fakir of Ava. It’s located in the elusive Section 7 of the cemetery, but today was not going to be the day. Additionally, I wasn’t sure about the scale of his obelisk, which was clearly a popular type of monument. There were an impressive amount at Forest Lawn, and they all started to look similar. Ultimately, it eluded us and we were unable to locate it. 

A Tough Cemetery to Navigate 

The cemetery grounds are well maintained, but at 269 acres, its scale is vast and navigating it on foot with a loosely detailed map proved to be more challenging than we expected. Sections aren’t clearly marked, and the numerical sequences that date to the cemetery’s opening were often jumbled. For example, Section 5 adjoins Sections 16 and 21. In hindsight, I’d suggest visiting Forest Lawn by car or by taking one of their docent-led tours. 

Although Wally and I didn’t get to see everything we wanted at Forest Lawn, we still had a memorable day. We met an interesting individual, and will definitely be back to explore more. –Duke 

Forest Lawn Cemetery 

1411 Delaware Avenue
Buffalo, New York 
USA

 

3 Chicago Muralists Share Their Secrets

How is a mural made? That was the idea behind a recent exhibit at the Chicago Cultural Center. We did a Q&A with each of the featured artists: Cecilia Beaven, Miguel A. Del Real and Anna Murphy. 

Duke and I have always appreciated murals, but didn’t know a whole lot about what went into their creation. Are they gridded out? Are they done freehand? Do they use spray paint? Or are all these things, as I imagine, dependent upon the artist?

That’s why it was so cool to visit the Chicago Cultural Center and see Exquisite Canvas: Mural Takeover, an onsite installation sponsored by the Department of Cultural Affairs and featuring the talent of three local artists: Cecilia Beaven, Miguel A. Del Real and Anna Murphy. The experiential exhibit was held on the first floor galleries and invited visitors to meet the artists and watch their progress as they completed their works. (The exhibit ran from June 10, 2023 and closed on September 3).

Part of the idea behind Exquisite Canvas at the Chicago Cultural Center was to show the artists’ process of creating their murals.

Pro tip: In our opinion, you have a better chance of seeing an impressive art exhibit at the Cultural Center, which is free, versus the often disappointing and even laughable works displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

The first room of the exhibit had a brightly colored geometric mural titled Perspectiva Perpetua by Miguel, who has a tattoo and calligraphy background. It depicted a man in the middle, staring intently ahead, with an Aztec jaguar on one side and a woman in profile with her eyes closed and her head tilted upwards on other other. Miguel was working on his mural the day we visited. It was pretty cool to have the opportunity to chat with him briefly. 

Miguel A. Del Real working on Perspectiva Perpetua

We admired his mural as well as the other two by Cecilia and Anna. Cecilia’s piece, Moon Bloom, references tenangos, a colorful style of embroidery that originated in the Tenango de Doria municipality in the Mexican state of Hidalgo.

Moon Bloom by Cecilia Beaven

Anna’s concept, Awakening, featured a resting tiger,  symbolizing the inner strength in each of us. She’s known for her photorealistic style and use of blue and gold paint.

Awakening by Anna Murphy

Seeing Miguel at work gave us a glimpse into the making of a mural, but we still had a lot of questions. So we decided to reach out to the artists to learn more. 

Fortunately, all three took the time to answer our questions, and their Q&As provided a fascinating glimpse into their creative process. –Wally

Cecilia Beaven

How did you get into art?

I remember drawing since I remember being myself. Creating images has always been an activity that fascinates me and it’s my favorite form of communication or expression. I started taking art classes when I was a kid, and I started doing art more professionally right after highschool when I went to art college.

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

I explore mythology through a very playful lens that allows for experimentation and speculation. I draw from Aztec and other Mesoamerican stories and combine their archetypal elements with fiction in a seamless way. I also include a self-representative character that inhabits these narratives and allows for reflection on my place in the making of culture and participation in it.

Which character is that?

The character that represents me is the woman figure with a big nose and short hair that you can see in a lot of my pieces.

Are they entirely planned out in advance?

They usually are. I do lots of sketches, color tests, and planning ahead of time, so when I’m on site creating a mural I know what steps to follow. There are a few decisions that get modified once I’m in front of the actual wall, but not many.

Do you draw them out on the wall?

Yes. The sketching technique depends on the project, resources available, and time limitations. Sometimes I work traditionally and follow a grid, sometimes I project my sketch, and sometimes I just freehand recreate my sketch.

Tell us more about your technique and the process of creating your murals.

I create a loose sketch on a sketchbook using non-photo blue pencil. Once I like where it's going, I ink it. Then I scan my drawing and get rid of the blue. I use photoshop to do color tests and once I’m happy with the color palette, I print it. I then mix paints that match my tones. 

On the mural site, I recreate my sketch on the wall (using a grid, freehand, or with a projector, depending on the project) and then start to apply my colors from the background to the foreground.

How long does it typically take to create a mural?

The time depends on the size of the wall and how detailed it is. But I work pretty fast, so I’ve completed small murals in one day and the largest ones in two or three weeks. 

How would you describe your style?

Playful, cartoony, absurd, mythological, self-reflective, bold.

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

I love using my whole body to create an image, to see something as big as me, or bigger, take shape as I move my body. I also love being on ladders, scaffoldings, and lifts. And I enjoy the mindset that creating a mural puts me in, I feel calm and focused.

What is your least favorite part?

Painting the lower part of the walls that require bending, kneeling or even lying down on the floor.

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

Ideally, I want people to experience happiness and a sense of hope.

ceciliabeaven.com

Instagram: @samuraiceci

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Miguel A. Del Real

How did you get into art?

It wasn’t until second or third grade. I was trying to replicate the Ninja Turtles, and I think that’s what really got me into drawing. And then around seventh or eighth grade and throughout high school, I got into doing graffiti letters. 

I stopped for a little bit when I went to Northern Illinois University, but then I came back into the city and started hanging out with old friends. And I started getting back into the arts, like with graffiti murals. 

I would say that’s what helped develop me as an artist, those years doing experimental work — that’s what led me to be taken a little bit more seriously as a professional artist. 

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

That’s tough. You do want to be respectful to where you’re painting, And I feel like that approach is what has helped shape some of the ideas or concepts. 

These past couple years, I’ve been experimenting more with the sense of consciousness. I don’t want to say spirituality or anything like that. But it’s just been more like depicting dreams, combining some abstract elements with figurative elements, patterns, heavy line work. 

Are they entirely planned out in advance?

I like to leave some breathing room. So I would say, when it’s a job that really requires that they’re more hands-on, they want everything planned out.

This particular one that the cultural center, they allowed a lot of flexibility, where I just gave them a rough sketch. And then out of that, I was able to change it and add things as I went, inspired by the space. 

Do you draw them out on the wall? Tell us about your technique and the process of creating your murals.

I just start sketching. Like at the cultural center, I sketched it with pencil. They wanted it with a brush — I couldn’t use any aerosol. Then you start blocking out sections with paint and color, and then you move on to details. 

When it’s a mural outside, I can use spray paint and I start sketching with the paint itself, just blocking in shapes. 

How long does it typically take to create a mural?

As fast as two and a half weeks to a month and a half.

How would you describe your style?

With my background in graffiti lettering, I use the chisel qualities of a brush, from thick to thin, combined with sacred geometry with shapes like circles, squares, triangles. 

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

It’s definitely the painting. Once you have the sketch done, the coloring of it — even though that’s where I struggle the most, where I go back and forth with colors. This is when it really starts coming to life. 

What is your least favorite part?

The sketching, because everything needs to be locked in precisely. So if something looks wrong, then that throws off the whole mural — everything needs to be mathematically divided. 

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

The common theme that I have, regardless of the different institutions and corporations that I’ve painted for, it’s always the message of transformation, evolving. Man fusing with spirit or nature.

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Instagram: @delrealink

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Anna Murphy

How did you get into art?

I received a BFA in painting from the University of Louisville in 2011. After many years creating fine art oil paintings on canvas, I painted my first mural in 2018, and fell in love with the large scale and community aspect of public art.

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

The central themes of my work include celebrating nature’s wondrous beauty and the divine connection we share with one another, Mother Earth and the animal kingdom. My spirituality is the driving force of my life and my art.

Are they entirely planned out in advance? Do you draw them out on the wall? 

Yes, I design the layout in PhotoShop, then project a line drawing of my design onto the wall. With a small paintbrush, I paint the outline of the design onto the wall.

How would you describe your style? 

With a traditional painting background, I merge the worlds of fine art and street art by bringing an emphasis on intricate detail into my large-scale public murals.

Tell us about your technique and the process of creating your murals. 

Hand-painted with brushes, my painting style uses a process similar to watercolor, building up thin layers of washes to create depth, texture and a lifelike quality.

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

Knowing that it will bring joy and inspiration to those who see it, for years to come.

What is your least favorite part?

Spiders.

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

The metallic gold background reflects our own divinity and the sacredness of life. The cobalt blue, a symbol of Earth, like Heaven and Earth together, this combination portrays the connection between the human and the divine. The cherubs are also a symbol of our connection to the divine, and guardians of our pure and spiritual nature. The bees act as a symbol of a higher frequency, community and a connection to all things. The flowers and plants, a symbol of Mother Nature’s beauty, represent a paradise that can also be found within.

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Instagram: @annapmurphy

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Chicago Cultural Center 

78 East Washington Street
Chicago, Illinois
USA

Gorgeous Guanajuato: The Ultimate Day Trip From San Miguel de Allende

A one-day itinerary for travelers looking to experience the best of Guanajuato City, including the Museo de las Momias, the Teatro Juárez and the funicular to the Pipila Monument and overlook.

If you’re staying in San Miguel de Allende, you’ve gotta take a day trip to Guanajuato — and we’ve got the perfect itinerary for you.

Even if you’re not into displays of desiccated corpses, the charming and colorful capital of Guanajuato, Mexico has plenty to offer. It makes for a delightful day trip from the tourist hotspot San Miguel de Allende. 

“The sights in Guanajuato are equal parts beautiful and bizarre.”

A Brief History of Guanajuato

Originally inhabited by indigenous groups, the region was conquered by the Spanish, and the town of Guanajuato was incorporated in 1554. 

Like San Miguel, Guanajuato was an important and wealthy colonial city due to the region’s large silver deposits. It played a pivotal role in Mexico’s struggle to break the Spanish yoke. The city was the site of the first major battle of the Mexican War of Independence, which took place in 1810. Guanajuato also played a significant role in the Mexican Revolution, which began in 1910 — it was the site of the first battle (which the revolutionaries won).

Hop to it! Follow this walking tour of charming and quirky Guanajuato.

Guanajuato Day Trip Itinerary

With this tried-and-true one-day itinerary, you’ll experience the best of colorful and quirky Guanajuato, taking in the top attractions, flavors and vistas that this charming city has to offer.

Start your day at the Mummy Museum, then head to the Plaza of the Frogs before strolling along the main street of town. Here are the places we recommend stopping at, before ending with a funicular trip to overlook this incredible mountain town. With its vibrantly painted buildings and lively plazas, Guanajuato is one of Mexico’s most beautiful colonial towns.

Museo de las Momias

Looking for a bit of spook-tacular fun? The Museo de las Momias has you covered. In our estimation, this is the town’s main attraction. The macabre museum features the desiccated husks of some of the city’s former residents who couldn’t pay their burial tax, were dug up and discovered to be naturally mummified due to the arid climate. It’s a morbidly fascinating experience that’s not for the faint of heart.

LEARN MORE: The Haunting and Horrific Mummy Museum of Guanajuato

Explanada del Panteón Municipal s/n

Plaza de las Ranas

Hop on over to Plaza de la Hermandad, also known as Plaza de las Ranas (Frog Plaza). The centerpiece is a fountain created by French sculptor Gabriel Guerra and installed in 1893. It looks a bit like a swimming pool, but the stars of the show are the whimsical frog statues made of stone that decorate the open plaza. 

Why frogs? The name Guanajuato comes from the indigenous Purépecha words Quanax-Huato, which means “Place of the Frogs.” One theory is that the town took its name from a pair of colossal boulders resembling giant frogs. Seeing this as an auspicious sign, the Purépecha decided to settle here. They were a powerful empire that dominated western Mexico prior to the Spanish conquest. 

Fun fact: Guanajuato was the birthplace of Mexican muralist Diego Rivera, who referred to himself as “el Sapo-Rana,” the Frog-Toad. 

Galereña Dulces Típicos de Guanajuato

Want something sweet? Next stop: Galereña Dulces, a candy store that’s been around since 1865. They’ve got all kinds of traditional Mexican sweets — but don’t get your hopes up about mummy gummies. Much to our dismay, those don’t exist. 

The cellophane-wrapped caramel-colored confections we found are actually known locally as charamuscas. They’re a type of hard candy made from spun boiled cane sugar twisted into a mummy figure shape. Which, now that I think about it, these gnarly, crunchy versions are actually more fitting. 

Avenida Benito Juárez 188

Empanadas MiBu

Feeling a bit peckish? Time for a snack at Empanadas MiBu. I always say: If there’s a Heaven, there will be empanadas up there. These tasty little pockets of joy come in all sorts of varieties, from savory (rajas con queso are my fave) to sweet (you can never go wrong with Nutella), and are the perfect snack to munch on while exploring the city. They’re made to order and served in paper bags, making them the perfect handheld food to eat on the go. 

Avenida Benito Juárez 65-A

Jardín Reforma

Escape the hustle and bustle of the city by taking a stroll through this serene park that’s just past Empanadas MiBu. Head through the classical arch into a tranquil oasis that’s surprisingly peaceful for being mere steps off the city’s main drag. The loudest sound you’re likely to hear here is the gurgling of the fountain in the center or the chirping of birds.

Be sure to pop into G&G Cafe, the coffeeshop in the corner of this small park, if you need a caffeine fix. 

Basilica of Our Lady of Guanajuato

Continue down Avenida Benito Juarez until it turns into De Paz. The yellow Basílica Colegiata de Nuestra Señora de Guanajuato, dedicated to the city’s patroness, Our Lady of Guanajuato, is hard to miss. The yellow edifice stands proudly on the historic Plaza de la Paz (Plaza of Peace), the main square. However, unlike most Spanish colonial cities, the plaza is not a square but a triangle, to better fit Guanajuato’s hilly geography. 

The church’s façade was designed in the Mexican Baroque style and is adorned with carvings of saints and features two bell towers and a red clay dome. The interior is just as impressive, with soaring arches, intricate gold leaf detailing and a stunning main altar that encompasses the local likeness of the Virgin Mary. 

Calle Ponciano Aguilar 7

Teatro Juárez

While you’re in the vicinity, stop by the Teatro Juárez, a majestic Neoclassical theater, built from 1872 to 1903. Bronze statues of the Greek Muses, who represent the arts and sciences, stand on the roof.

We didn’t get a chance to go inside, but it looks impressive, awash in red velvet and gold details, with a colorful ceiling motif in the Neo-Mudéjar style, a nod to the mix of Spanish and Arab design popular in the South of Spain.

The landmark hosts a wide variety of performances, from concerts and operas to plays, international movies and dance. It has served as the main venue of the Festival Internacional Cervantino since 1972. 

De Sopena 10

Funicular and El Pipila Monument 

End your stroll through town with a ride on the funicular. The station is close by the Teatro Juárez. A cable car system built in 2001 takes you up the hill to an overlook and costs 60 pesos (about $4) for a roundtrip ticket. We had to stand in line for a bit, but it was worth the wait. The ride up is pretty fun — but the view is breathtaking. I was utterly captivated by the hilly landscape and the colorful, densely clustered  patchwork of buildings that stretched out before us. I leaned against the railing and gazed out at it for a long time. It’s easy to see why the enchanting city center is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Pro tip: When facing the city below, head off to right for a less-crowded viewing platform above the basilica.

Crowds of tourists and locals gather in the shadow of the El Pipila monument, a towering 80-foot statue built in 1939 to commemorate a hero of the Mexican War of Independence.

So who exactly was this Pipila fellow? His real name was Juan José de los Reyes Martínez, who, during the siege of Guanajuato, crawled towards the Alhóndiga de Granaditas, a granary used as a fortress by Spanish troops. He had a large stone slab used to grind corn (a pipila — hence his nickname) on his back. Once he reached the door, he used the stone to break it down, allowing the rebel forces to enter and defeat the Spanish troops.

De La Constancia 17

Outside the Mummy Museum, we watched a performance of men in drag mock-fighting. The sights in Guanajuato are equal parts beautiful and bizarre.

SMA Day Trip

All told, we spent about four hours in Guanajuato. We hired a driver from San Miguel de Allende through our hotel’s concierge. The ride is an hour and a half each way. We got dropped off at the Mummy Museum and then texted our driver at the end of the day once we on our way back down on the funicular.

From truly disturbing to truly delightful, Guanajuato is a day trip not to miss. –Wally

6 of the Most Unforgettable Galápagos Attractions

What are the coolest things to see in the Galápagos Islands? The giant tortoises of Rancho El Chato, the Bellavista Lava Tunnels, Los Gemelos and the sea lions of Lobería Bay make this a paradise for nature lovers.

Calling all thrill-seekers! Are you ready to experience the Galápagos Islands like never before? This untouched paradise, situated off the shores of Ecuador, is home to an abundant and awe-inspiring array of wildlife. From giant tortoises to iguanas to penguins, this enchanting destination is a must-visit for nature lovers and adventure seekers alike. 

About 600 miles off the coast of Ecuador in the Pacific Ocean, the remote archipelago of 18 islands and more than 100 small islets was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1978.

Here are the top six awe-inspiring experiences you won’t want to miss out on during a private Galápagos tour:  

1. Lobería Bay: A Sea Lion’s Paradise

Near Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on the southwestern coast of San Cristóbal Island, Lobería Bay is home to one of the largest sea lion colonies in the Galápagos Islands, and its name, which loosely translates to “Place of the Sea Wolves,” is a fitting one. 

These playful creatures can be seen sunbathing on the rocks, swimming in the ocean and even surfing the waves. Visitors can get up close and personal with the sea lions, but it’s important to remember that they’re wild animals and should be respected.

In addition to sea lions, Lobería Bay is home to a variety of other wildlife, including iguanas, penguins and pelicans. The crystal-clear turquoise waters off the coast are also great for snorkeling and scuba diving: You can see a variety of marine life, such as sharks, rays and colorful fish.

Lobería Bay is a truly special place to witness the spectacle of its namesake inhabitants. Their spirited playfulness and captivating postures make for an unforgettable show.

2. Santa Cruz Fish Market: Get Fresh

Located on San Cristóbal’s southern shore in the town of Puerto Ayora, the Santa Cruz Fish Market is a wonderful place to immerse yourself in island culture. Locals come here to select their evening feast among the freshest catches of the day. The market is a hive of activity, with fishermen unloading their boats, vendors hawking their wares and tourists snapping photos. 

You won’t be alone. Pelicans waddle past the counters, and the sea lions poke their heads up beside the sellers stalls to sniff the delicious seafood.

But the real spectacle is the intricate process of weighing and preparing the fish. Yellowtail tunas are hoisted onto scales, groupers are gutted and fileted, and scorpion fish are skinned and cleaned. It’s a fascinating glimpse into the world of commercial fishing, and it’s sure to whet your appetite.

At night, the fish market transforms into an open-air restaurant. The set menu offers a plate of fresh seafood and two sides for a very reasonable price (around $5). 

While you’re in the vicinity, head to the black volcanic rock shores to see colonies of brightly colored Sally Lightfoot crabs scuttling about.

3. The Wetlands on Isabela Island: A Birdwatcher’s Paradise

The Isabela Wetlands Complex (Isabela Humedales) is a hidden gem located a short distance from Puerto Villamil on seahorse-shaped Isabela Island. This remarkable ecosystem is home to a diverse array of wildlife, including flamingos, stilts (named for their long legs) and pintail ducks. 

The best way to explore the wetlands is on foot, following the network of boardwalk trails that pass through lakes, lagoons and mangrove swamps. The trails are easy to navigate, making them a great option for even inexperienced hikers.

As you explore the complex, you’ll be amazed by the beauty of the wetland ecosystem. Mangrove trees provide a shady respite from the sun, popular with various plants, insects, amphibians, fish and more. But the real stars of the show are the birds. You can see over 100 species, including some that are found nowhere else in the world. You're likely to see flamingos, flightless cormorants, penguins and gallinules.

While here, look for the island’s unusual resident, the Conolophus marthae, or pink land iguana. The slopes of Wolf Volcano are the only place on the planet where they live.

If you’re not a fan of hiking, you can explore the area on a bicycle. However, it’s best to avoid the afternoon, when the sun is at its hottest.

4. El Chato Tortoise Reserve: Walking Among Giants 

The Galápagos tortoise is the official mascot of the islands — and for good reason. These majestic, slow-moving creatures are gentle giants, with some specimens weighing up to 550 pounds (250 kilograms). They’re also some of the longest-living invertebrates; the oldest ever recorded was 175 years old!

One of the best places to observe them in their natural habitat on Santa Cruz Island at Rancho El Chato. The reserve is located a little over a mile south of the small town of Santa Rosa and covers 29 rolling acres of lush tropical highlands. The ranch’s mission is to provide a sanctuary for this endangered species. The privately owned reserve is home to many free-roaming giant tortoises, as well as Darwin finches and short-eared owls. 

Visitors can hike through the highlands, coming face-to-face with tortoises, as these amazing creatures roam around freely, and learning more about their resilience and longevity. 

5. Los Túneles de Bellavista: A Subterranean Wonder

If Puerto Ayora’s your home base, you can find a treasure trove of wonders just beyond its lively fish market, including the subterranean geologic wonders known as Los Túneles de Bellavista, or the Bellavista Lava Tunnels. These underground passages on Santa Cruz Island reveal the sheer magnitude and force of volcanic activity that shaped the Galápagos archipelago.

One of the most popular tunnels can be found near the village of Bellavista. Santa Cruz is the most well-known island for lava flows, which are particularly abundant in the highlands. Visitors can descend underground and marvel at the incredible shapes and formations that were created millions of years ago. 

The tubes were formed as lava flowed over the island’s surface. As the outer layer of lava cooled and hardened, molten magma continued flowing beneath. When the lava drained away, it left behind a series of long cave-like channels.

To get to the Lava Tunnels, you can hire a taxi in Puerto Ayora. The tunnels aren’t well-lit, so be sure to bring a flashlight and wear sturdy shoes, not flip-flops.

6. Los Gemelos and Scalesia Forest: Twice as Nice

If you’re looking for an adventure that will take your breath away, be sure to add Los Gemelos (The Twins) to your list of must-see places in the Galapagos. These two round craters are located on opposite sides of the main Santa Cruz highway and were formed when lava tunnels collapsed due to erosion and tectonic shifts. Today, they stand as untamed and lush havens, inviting adventurous souls to explore their hidden wonders.

The larger of the two craters is about 410 feet deep (125 meters), and the smaller one is about 82 feet deep (25 meters). Both are surrounded by Scalesia forests. These trees are actually part of the family of plants that includes daisies and sunflowers. Scalesia trees are endangered, and they’re only found in the Galápagos. The forests also have a variety of birds, including the vermilion flycatcher and the Galápagos hawk.

A short hike from the main road leads to the rim of the larger crater. From there, you have a breathtaking view of the crater and the surrounding forest. You can also hike down into the crater, but be sure to wear sturdy shoes and be careful of loose rocks.

The Galápagos: Explore a Natural World of Wonders

The Galápagos Islands are a place of wonder and discovery. With playful sea lions, vibrant fish markets, lava tunnels and mighty tortoises, every corner of this archipelago holds something different to explore. Craft your own itinerary with a private tour of the Galápagos Islands — you’re sure to be captivated by its sheer beauty. –Emilia Stefan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

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

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

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

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

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

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

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

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

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

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

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

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

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

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RELATED: A pictorial glossary of the so-called pagan gods of the Old Testament

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

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

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

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

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RELATED: In the New Testament, Mary wasn’t mentioned as being a virgin. Find out why early Christians insisted upon Mary being pure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

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

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

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

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

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

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

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

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

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

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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RELATED: Learn more shocking things about the Virgin Mary!

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

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

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

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

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

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

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

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

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

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

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

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

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

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

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

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

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

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

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

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

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

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

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

San Miguel de Allende’s Knockout Door Knockers

Knock, knock! Who’s there? It doesn’t matter — just keep a lookout for the Mexican town’s amazing and Instagrammable door knockers.

People go ga-ga over doors. When I was younger, I remember seeing posters of the doors of Dublin or Tuscany. And while I’m able to appreciate these elements of design, something else jumped out at me as Duke and I wandered the streets of the charming colonial town of San Miguel de Allende: nice knockers.

Door knockers, that is.

 San Miguel de Allende, or SMA, as many call it to save a few syllables, is known for its rich cultural heritage and stunning architecture — and its door knockers are no exception. These decorative pieces not only add a touch of charm to the town’s doors but also reveal the history and cultural influences of the region.

I’m obviously not the first one to note the proliferation of door knockers around town. “I love how each door knocker in San Miguel de Allende tells a story. It’s like a miniature work of art that you can appreciate every time you enter a building,” says Kevin Raub, a travel writer for Lonely Planet.

From rustic wrought-iron to ornate brass, SMA’s door knockers come in a variety of shapes and sizes, though you’ll mostly see animals (especially lions, fish and horses) and faces. 

Unlocking the Past: Exploring the Origins and Evolution of SMA’s Door Knockers

The tradition of elaborate door knockers in San Miguel de Allende has its roots in the city’s rich colonial history. During that era, many families were all about showing off their wealth. Door knockers became a popular status symbol and were often made from expensive materials like brass or wrought iron.

As the city grew and evolved, the tradition of ornate door knockers continued, but with a new focus on craftsmanship and artistry. Today, the door knockers of San Miguel de Allende are more of a reflection of the city’s artistic heritage.

So, whether you’re a fan of history or art, or just appreciate the quirky things in life, San Miguel de Allende’s door knockers are sure to catch your eye and knock your socks off. –Wally

Why Did Christ Have to Be Born of the Virgin Mary?

Virgin births weren’t unusual in pagan times — just in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Here’s how sex got tangled up with the idea of sin, and by extension, chastity became the ultimate sign of virtue. 

Nativity, Birth of Jesus by Giotto, circa 1305

Early Christians needed their savior to have been born of a woman without sin, and that included the act of fornication. Greek myths could have influenced their theology.

Mary, the mother of Christ, is held up as one of a kind among humans for getting pregnant and giving birth without ever having sex. 

But believe it or not, so-called virgin births weren’t uncommon in the pagan world. Pythagorus, Plato and Alexander the Great were all said to have been born of virgins by the power of a holy spirit. 

Alexander the Great’s mom dreamed of a lightning bolt striking her vagina — and lo and behold! She became pregnant with the future king of Macedon. In antiquity, “virgin” births weren’t all that uncommon.

“Christians, aware of the antique pantheon, are still worried by the parallel between Christ’s story and the dozens of virgin births of classical mythology,” Maria Warner wrote in her 1976 work Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary.

So how exactly does one conceive without fornication? We can turn once again to paganism. In Greek mythology, the closest parallel seems to be when Zeus turned himself into a shower of gold and impregnated Danae, who gave birth to the hero Perseus.   

Danaë and the Golden Shower by Andrea Casali, circa 1750

The Greek myth of Zeus impregnating a woman in the form of a golden rain could have inspired the form the Holy Ghost took with the Virgin Mary.

The Greek god Zeus metamorphosed into a swan to couple with Leda. Did this bird imagery inspire the Holy Ghost’s representatoin as a dove?

Then again, the Holy Ghost is often depicted as a dove, and in another encounter, Zeus, that shapeshifting, lecherous cad, adopted the form a bird as well: He became a swan to seduce (or, perhaps, rape) Leda, mother of Helen of Troy, the twins Castor and Pollux, and another daughter, Clytemnestra.

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico, 1445

The shaft of light symbolizing the Holy Ghost isn’t too different from Danae’s shower of gold. Notice the contrast of the Virgin with Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden to the left.

Connecting Sex With Sin

Of course in these cases, Zeus is copulating with the women. It’s an act of lust, and, at least for the god, one of pleasure. That’s in stark contrast to the Christian idea of Mary’s conception of Jesus: She remains a virgin, her maidenhead unbroken, and there’s no animal-like rutting. 

This was an essential part of the Christ story. The fathers of the Christian church connected sex with sin early on, taking their cue from Genesis and the Garden of Eden: Fornication becomes necessary for reproduction, and the pain of childbirth a curse that Eve, and all women to follow, must bear. 

Sex was seen as the ultimate sin. Saint Augustine wrote in City of God, in 426, that the passion aroused by lovemaking was sinful — though the holy act of propagation was not. In a similar vein, he added, “We ought not to condemn marriage because of the evil of lust, nor must we praise lust because of the good of marriage.”

“[I]n this battle between the flesh and the spirit, the female sex was firmly placed on the side of the flesh,” Warner wrote. “For as childbirth was woman’s special function, and its pangs the special penalty decreed by God after the Fall, and as the child she bore in her womb was stained by sin from the moment of its conception, the evils of sex were particularly identified with the female. Woman was womb and womb was evil.”

The Annunciation from the Grabower Altar in St. Peter’s in Hamburg, Germany, 1383

Saint Ephrem the Syrian wrote, “Perfectly God, he entered the womb through her ear.” The idea was that by conceiving via her ear, Mary remained a virgin.

The Virgin Mary: Not Your Typical (Sinful) Woman

Mary’s impregnation is, in contrast, a serene, holy act. It’s possibly tied to the very words of the Angel Gabriel when he announces her role in bringing forth the Savior. In ancient times, some people actually believed pregnancy could come about through the ear. (It gives a whole new meaning to Iggy Pop’s lyric “Of course I’ve had it in the ear before.”)

A sixth century hymn that’s still sung today goes:

The centuries marvel therefore 
that the angel bore the seed,
the virgin conceived through her ear, 
and believing in her heart, became fruitful.

The son of God chose to be born of a virgin, according to Augustine, because it was the only way to enter the world without sin. So, “Let us love chastity above all things,” he wrote, “for it was to show that this was pleasing to Him that Christ chose the modesty of a virgin womb.”

Painful births were one of God’s punishments for Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But Jesus’ mother couldn’t be connected with anything so sinful, so she was said to be a virgin, pure and intact.

Slandering the Virgin Mary

The early Christian church had to defend itself against rumors that painted Mary in a negative light. Jews and pagans in Alexandria, for example, were saying that Jesus wasn’t conceived by God — instead, he was the bastard child of an incestuous union of Mary and her brother. 

It doesn’t seem far-fetched nowadays to question a scientific impossibility — but at the dawn of Christianity, virgin births wouldn’t have been too big of a surprise. For early Christians, anything to do with female bodily functions was dirty and sinful. So they would have insisted their savior had to have come from an inviolate womb. And, despite evidence to the contrary, Mary became a virgin. –Wally

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Falling for Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater

A room-by-room tour of the UNESCO World Heritage masterpiece in southwestern Pennsylvania, where nature and modern architecture coexist in breathtaking harmony. Plus: What a place to skinny-dip!

Duke and Wally pose by the aptly named Iconic View of the home. The cantilevered terraces unite the indoor and outdoor spaces, blurring the lines between nature and architecture.

Every summer, my parents visit Wally and me in Chicago for a long weekend. We always have a great time together, and this year we decided to mix things up by taking a short trip to Pittsburgh. The four of us had already toured two of Frank Lloyd Wright’s residences, the Martin House in Buffalo and Graycliff in Derby, New York. We chose Pittsburgh because of its proximity to Fallingwater, and since my parents were driving, we set aside a day to experience it together. 

The rushing waters of Bear Run stream were especially feisty after the rain.

Pro tip: Get there early and explore the grounds. When we checked in at the Fallingwater Visitor Center kiosk, one of the staff members provided us with a map and suggested we visit the Iconic View platform. She informed us that it wasn’t part of our tour — and we were glad we made the trek to see it. It’s a short 10-minute walk down the trail to the aptly named viewing platform, which is easy to follow and accessible to most people. This is the money shot folks, and we guarantee that you’ll appreciate the stunning views of Fallingwater, the waterfall and the surrounding landscape.

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LEARN MORE ABOUT THE ORIGINS OF FALLINGWATER, from the geological inspiration to the friendship between Edgar J. Kaufmann and Frank Lloyd Wright. 

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The Edgar J. Kauffman Sr. Residence aka Fallingwater looks picture perfect from any angle. The color of the terraces and the bridge were chosen by Wright to match the underside of a dying rhododendron leaf, or sere.

Fallingwater: The House That Wright Built 

As we rounded the bend in the gravel path the sound of rushing water intensified and filled our ears. There, nestled among the abundant native rhododendrons and trees, was Fallingwater. Perched on a precipice above a rushing waterfall, the historic weekend retreat built for the Kaufmann family was even more awe-inspiring in person than I had imagined. Its cantilevered terraces appeared to float, extending outward like a precarious stack of Jenga blocks moments before toppling.

The original budget for Fallingwater was $35,000, but the final cost (including the guesthouse) ballooned to $155,000. To put this in perspective, an average house cost $5,000 to build in the late 1930s.

We paused on the concrete bridge leading to the main house and stopped to listen to our guide, Rod, who directed us to look at the plunge pool with the bronze sculpture Mother and Child by French artist Jacques Lipchitz set on the edge of the low stone wall enclosing it.

He explained to us that the Kaufmanns liked to get up in the morning and take a dip. Bear Run isn’t a swimming stream, so they would walk down the steps descending from the hatch in the living room and wade into the 4.5-foot-deep pool. Fed by a freshwater spring, its waters remain a brisk 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius) year-round. In fact on her first day at Fallingwater, Elsie Henderson, a Black woman who worked as a cook for the Kaufmann family, got an eyeful. She heard laughter from the kitchen window. When she looked outside she saw Edgar J. Kaufmann, Sr., his wife Liliane, and their guests frolicking in the chilly waters nude and remarked “what have I gotten myself into!”

The bronze sculpture Mother and Child by French artist Jacques Lipchitz depicts a legless mother with a child clinging to her back. It holds pride of place at the plunge pool.

We continued our walking tour and followed Rod to the back of the house, where the main entrance is concealed beneath a rectangular trellis covering the carport. This was by design: Wright wanted the Kaufmann’s to feel sheltered and secure. 

Fallingwater’s kitchen was so renowned for its ultramodern features and functionality that many suppliers were eager to promote the use of their products at the residence.

Fallingwater’s Kitchen of Tomorrow 

Before our group entered the main house we took a detour to the kitchen. Although small by today’s standards it was both functional and beautiful. Wright considered the kitchen to be a workspace, not a gathering place for the family. It was run by the indefatigable Elsie Henderson from 1946 to 1964, when the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy took over the house. 

After working for the Kaufmanns, Henderson went on to cook for the Kennedys in Hyannis Port. She returned to Pittsburgh to live out her life and passed away there in 2021 at the age of 107!

Henderson had an unobstructed view of the West Terrace, which features a cast iron Sung Dynasty (960-1279) Buddha head purchased by the Kaufmanns in 1951. Wright supposedly chose its placement himself. 

The house was completed in the mid-1930s and its kitchen featured modern amenities that were considered modern at the time. For example the countertops and Wright-designed work table were made of Formica, a recently patented laminate material. Kaufmann Sr. learned about it earlier than the general public because it was invented by engineers at Westinghouse Research Laboratories in 1935. The floor is made up of custom colored rubber tiles in Cherokee red, one of Wright’s signature colors. 

The goldenrod enameled steel cabinets in the kitchen came from St. Charles, an Illinois-based company that specialized in factory-made modular units and the preferred choice of Wright. St. Charles was a popular brand at the time, and were known for their high quality and durability. 

The kitchen also included a turquoise-lined Frigidaire refrigerator, a Kitchen-Aid dishwasher, double sinks, double warming trays and a wood-burning AGA Range Cooker, a technological marvel from Sweden and the invention of the Nobel Prize-winning physicist, Gustaf Dalén.

If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. The wood-burning AGA Range Cooker at Fallingwater was always radiating heat, which was probably not very pleasant in the summer.

AGA stoves were very expensive, but they were also very efficient. The stove had to burn all the time, and it didn’t have knobs or settings to adjust the temperature. 

Eventually Henderson complained about the amount of heat radiating from the stove and the Kaufmanns had it replaced with an AGA electric model.

The best seats in the house have a pair of earthenware wine decanters on either side of the built-in living room sofa.

Compression and Release: Entering the Living Room

The Kaufmanns kept a collection of walking sticks outside for guests to use on hikes. After their walks in the woods, guests could return to the house to wash their hands and feet at the small basin located between a pair of Pottsville sandstone support columns outside the entrance. 

Rod pointed out that we were being compressed before being released into the living room, a technique that Wright was well known for. As our group entered the monumental room, we immediately felt a sense of release. The open 1,800-square-foot interior space is the ultimate family gathering space. It has a central, symmetrical raised cove ceiling that uses diffused indirect fluorescent tube lighting. Edgar jr., the only son and child of Edgar J. Kaufmann, Sr., (E.J.), and Liliane, had seen this type of lighting used in a commercial application and requested that Wright integrate it into the design.

The living room also has a dining nook with a built-in table . Although it’s set for four, it could be extended using leaves stored in the buffet behind it.

Rod explained to us that everything inside Fallingwater is original to the Kaufmanns’ use of the home. Many of its objects and furnishings came from their eponymous Pittsburgh-based department store.

The Kaufmanns collaborated with the best suppliers in the country to create a truly unique home. Pittsburgh Plate Glass (PPG) rushed in the glass, while Armstrong supplied the cork flooring and wall tile — both firms headquartered in Pittsburgh. DuPont supplied the paint, Dunlop the foam rubber, Thrush the heating and Hope’s the steel window frames.

To keep unwanted hands off Fallingwater’s treasures, Rod asked our group to avoid leaning against, sitting on or touching anything inside the house.

He added that we’d be using the stairs and since Fallingwater was built before building codes, they’re aren’t any railings. With this in mind, visitors are allowed to use the ledges above the exposed sandstone walls to safely navigate the interior staircases.

Victor Hammer’s The Excursion, an oil portrait of E.J. as a hiker, with a walking stick, commissioned by Liliane in 1929 hangs opposite the dining room table.

There’s a music alcove near the entrance where the Kaufmanns would listen to records on their Capehart stereo turntable, and a reading alcove where they could sit and read. E.J., Liliane and Edgar jr. were academics who enjoyed spending time in their home surrounded by music and books.

The mod-looking Wright-designed banquettes are where the Kaufmanns would listen to music. Note the cabinet to the left that stored the turntable and records.

Facing the windows is a wood library desk designed by Wright and built around one of the room’s stone support columns. It’s a masterpiece of design, and incorporates all four of the main design motifs found throughout the house: horizontal lines, cantilevers, circles and semi-circles. There’s even a lozenge-shaped shelf that echoes the shape of the hatch behind the desk, which leads down to the stream.

While designing Fallingwater, Wright dictated that no rocks or boulders were to be destroyed or removed. His profound respect for nature resulted in a home that’s beautifully integrated into its natural surroundings. The boulder that forms the foundation of the house was incorporated into the room and serves as the hearth. Wright was quoted as saying, “The rock on which E.J. sits will be the hearth, coming right out of the floor, the fire burning just behind it.”

The hearth of Fallingwater with one of the original wooden stump stools used by the Kaufmanns serves as a mini bar.

A round, Cherokee red kettle hangs on the left side of the fireplace, nestled into a concave indentation that fits it perfectly. It was meant to swing out over the fire to serve mulled wine, however it was ultimately relegated to being a conversation piece since the metal was so thick it took 10 hours to heat up.

The spherical cauldron is pretty to look at, but not so great at heating mulled wine. The wrought iron fireplace trident was forged by master metalsmith Samuel Yellen, and is from La Tourelle, the main Kaufmann residence in Fox Chapel, Pennsylvania.

In the dining area, Wright designed the built-in dining table and incorporated leaves into the sideboard that can be attached to the table to accommodate additional guests. Wright had wanted to pair the table with his more formal Barrel Chair, but Liliane prevailed, having purchased rustic three-legged wooden peasant chairs at a second-hand shop in Florence, Italy, which she felt were more appropriate for their country retreat.

Although Wright lost that battle he did design additional custom pieces for the living room, including occasional tables, banquettes, and zabutons (low wood-framed footstools) upholstered in warm hues of golden-yellow and red-orange. The zabutons represent one of the earliest uses of latex foam, a material suggested by Edgar jr. 

Wright’s free-floating elements were easy to move around and, most importantly, never blocked the view of nature outside. And many were made of wood, which the architect described “as the most humanely intimate of all materials.”

To give the flagstone floors throughout the house a wet look, Wright specified Johnson’s Glo-Coat, a wax that created a glossy sheen — drawing a parallel to the river rooks of the stream below. Wright chose that product because he was commissioned to design the Johnson Wax Building in Racine, Wisconsin while completing Fallingwater. Talk about product placement!

Our guide Rod sharing stories with our group about Fallingwater.

After our group had finished exploring the room, Rod shared an interesting story with us about a visitor he had on a previous tour who said, “In 1956, I was a Boy Scout in a local troop here.” A freak tornado had hit the area, and a debris jam built up, causing the stream flowing beneath Fallingwater to overflow into the first floor of the house. “After the flood, Edgar Sr. invited our troop in to help clean up as a service project,” the man has said. 

The visitor went on to explain that Elsie Henderson fed them, and they placed their sleeping bags on the floor of the living room. He continued, “I slept on that rock there,” pointing to one of the waxed flagstones.

The guest bedroom at Fallingwater includes a chromed-metal carafe by the American Thermos Bottle Company and a conté crayon drawing by Diego Rivera.

The Guest Bedroom

We followed Rod up the narrow stairwell that led to the second floor. There are a total of four bedrooms in the main house. Each has its own bathroom, private terrace and fireplace, with the exception of the guest bedroom. The headboard is large enough to accommodate two beds, but because the room is quite small, one bed was removed to make room for tour groups. 

On the wall is Profile of a Man Wearing a Hat, a Conté crayon drawing by Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. This is the only room in the whole house with blinds because Liliane’s private terrace can be seen outside the window.

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READ ABOUT FRIDA KAHLO, one of the most famous Fallingwater guests — and one of the most scandalous as well!

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The narrow passageways on the second and third floors of Fallingwater are, again, designed to create a sense of compression. This helps make the terraces feel even more spacious and inviting when you step outside. With nearly equal square footage inside and out, the spatial quality of the terraces make it obvious that the outdoors are the home’s raison d’être.

The Kaufmanns were initially hesitant when Wright insisted on building the house over the waterfall. They had often visited the site to sunbathe, party and picnic with their friends, and they weren’t sure that they wanted to live so close to the rushing water. Wright was insistent that the house be built in this location. He told Kaufmann, “I want you to live with your waterfall, not just look at it.” He also wanted the sound of the waterfall to be the “music of the house,” and its sound can be heard in every room. 

The built-in wardrobes are made of marine-grade plywood veneered with North Carolina black walnut. Note the sap line which runs vertically, referencing Wright's earth line. The wardrobe also include mildew resistant rattan shelving inside.

Liliane Kaufmann’s Bedroom 

Although Edgar jr. desired to change the narrative surrounding his parents marriage, the room he renamed the Master bedroom was his mother Liliane’s. Separate rooms weren’t unusual for affluent couples in the 1920s and ’30s, as it was seen as a sign of luxury and privacy.

All of the woodwork at Fallingwater use marine-grade plywood, which was chosen because it’s resistant to warping in humid environments. The plywood was veneered with North Carolina black walnut, and was cut and milled by the Gillen Company in Milwaukee, the successor to the defunct Matthews Brothers Company, which Wright had used for his Prairie style houses.

This was done so that the sap line of the walnut tree would run horizontally, referencing Wright’s earth line. The only exception is the doors, where the sap line runs vertically to balance things visually.

The room has a collection of impressive artworks, including Fumeur, a Picasso aquatint, a Tiffany lotus lamp on the desk and Horikiri No Hanashobu (Iris Garden at Horikiri), a Japanese woodblock print by Ando Hiroshige. Sheltered within the niche of Liliane’s fireplace is an Austro-Bohemian Madonna and Child carved around 1420 CE (her favorite piece of art in the home.)

The niche above Liliane’s fireplace was custom-built to fit her favorite work of art at Fallingwater, a 15th century Madonna and Child.

At Rod’s instruction, our group proceeded down the hall and into Edgar Sr.’s bedroom. 

A bust of Edgar jr. by Harlem Renaissance sculptor Richmond Barthé and a Savoy vase designed by Alvar Aalto sit atop the desk in E.J.’s bedroom. The desk has a semicircular cutout that allows the window to open without hitting it.

E.J.’s Bedroom 

Using Juniors naming system Edgar Sr.’s bedroom is sometimes referred to as E.J.’s dressing room or E.J.’s study. The built-in desk features a semi-circular cutout so the corner window can swing open unimpeded. A bust of Edgar jr. by Harlem Renaissance sculptor Richmond Barthé and a Savoy vase designed by Alvar Aalto in 1936 sit on top of the desk. 

One of the most striking features which can be seen from Edgar Sr.’s bedroom is the light screen, which runs vertically through the all three levels of the house. When viewed from the exterior, the vertical shaft of glass serves to balance the structural stone masses and maintain the house’s transparency. Wright was attempting to destroy the box of the traditional American home. He was bucking the International Style of the Bauhaus School in Germany. The casement windows here open outward, allowing their corners to vanish. 

A rustic limestone sculpture by self-taught Mexican artist Mardonio Magaña sits on E.J.’s terrace. The Kaufmanns fell in love with his work when they visited Frida Kahlo’s Casa Azul in Coyoacán, Mexico.

A pair of Japanese woodblock prints, including Kōzuke Sano funabashi no kozu (Old View of the Boat-Bridge at Sano) by Katsushika Hokusai, circa 1830, and Street Scene on the Giroza-Yedo by Ando Hiroshige are on display. Six prints in total were given as gifts by Wright to the Kaufmann family. The original mat of Street Scene on the Ginza-Yedo bears the inscription, “to Junior: at Taliesin, Aug. 14, 1951.”

Wright liked to work with odd numbers. To balance the room, there are three semicircular shelves next to the bed. These symbolically represent the three family members of Fallingwater: E.J., Liliane and Edgar jr. 

The adobe-style steps leading from the terrace outside lead to Edgar jr.’s study and bedroom on the third floor.

The zigzag adobe-style steps leading from the terrace outside Edgar Sr.’s second-floor bedroom to Edgar jr.’s study and bedroom in the third-floor penthouse are more form than function. They likely saw very little, if any, foot traffic, and, incidentally, put unnecessary stress on the terrace below.

A collection of books and sculptural objects grace the shelves of Junior’s third floor study.

Junior’s Bedroom and Study

On the third floor was the lair of the Kaufmanns’ son, Edgar jr. It consists of a stairwell library, a small den used as a drafting studio, and bedroom. The den also features cornerless windows. Junior’s sleeping alcove is at the eastern end of the passage. He preferred to be woken up by the early morning sun that streamed in through the spot created by the design of the bridge over the driveway.

Jean Arp’s abstract white marble Méditerranée II and Lyonel Feininger’s watercolor and ink on paper Church on the Cliffs VII are on view in Edgar jr.’s study.

Junior’s room wasn’t large — but it had a great view of the sunrise.

We exited Junior’s bedroom via a set of stairs and met at the second floor bridge connecting Fallingwater’s main house to the guest house. 

A 28-inch-tall stone statue of the Hindu goddess Parvati from India, circa 750 CE, rests atop a boulder at the end of the covered passageway, accompanied by a freshly cut bunch of rhododendron leaves.

Bridge to the Guest House 

The so-called “bridge” to connect Fallingwater’s main house to the guest house is actually a covered hall about 17 feet long that dead-ends at a boulder was left intact at the end of the passageway. There are five skylights equipped with bulbs so they can double as nightlights. 

We continued up a set of stairs and paused in front of the cast stone statue Serena, another work by Richmond Barthé. The subject is Rose McClendon, a leading African American Broadway actress of the 1920s and the co-founder of the Negro People’s Theatre in Harlem.

While designing Fallingwater, Wright insisted that no rocks or boulders were to be destroyed or moved.

The semicircular cascading concrete canopy resembles folded Japanese origami and extends from the cantilevered trellis of the guest house. The material defies logic and has an incredible lightness, supported only by slender steel posts. The flanges flare out on the way up, but seem to disappear on the way down: Painted Cherokee red, the posts start at almost 7 feet tall and continue to less than 4 feet.

A slatted wood partition wall was used to divide the room without building a wall.

Guest House Living Room

The Guest House at Fallingwater was completed in 1939 and offered additional space and privacy for guests. One of the first things you’ll notice is that the ceilings are noticeably higher than the main house. Or maybe the small, asymmetric fireplace is what catches your eye.

Landscape: Jalapa, Mexico, an 1877 painting by Jose Maria Velasco, hangs over the guesthouse bed.

Guest House Bedroom 

Rod told us that Liliane actually favored the seclusion and cross ventilation from the clerestory in the north wall of the guest house to her bedroom in the main house in the heat of the summer. 

Landscape: Jalapa, Mexico, an 1877 painting by Jose Maria Velasco, a mentor of Diego Rivera, hangs over the guesthouse bed. The Kaufmann family acquired the painting around 1937 for $500. It originally hung in Edgar Sr.’s apartment at the William Penn Hotel in Pittsburgh until 1954, when it was moved to its current location.

Fallingwater’s bathrooms feature cork walls and floors, a soft and durable material. The toilets are also low, inspired by Wright’s time in Japan.

Every piece in the Kaufmann family’s collection has a story to tell. There’s a chair in the corner of the guest house bedroom from the home of Irving Washington, author of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. The Barrel Chair at the desk is Wright’s adaptation from an earlier design for the Darwin Martin House in Buffalo, New York.

Doors lead out to the 30-foot-long, 6-foot-deep spring-fed swimming pool on the terrace of the guest house. This was the result of a compromise between the Kaufmanns, who viewed swimming and sunning as an indispensable part of their enjoyment at Bear Run, and Wright, who resisted the idea of an artificial pool so close to a natural source of water. 

The swimming pool is spring-fed and located on the terrace of the guest house.

An incredible amount of labor went into the construction of Fallingwater. The main contractor responsible for the masonry work was Walter J. Hall, a self-taught stone mason from Northern Pennsylvania, whose earlier construction, Lynn Hall, a roadside inn outside of Port Allegheny, won him the role. Hall taught the unskilled laborers how to construct walls using Pottsville sandstone. Minimum wage at the time was 25 cents an hour! By the time the guest house was built, the stone masons had honed their skills to perfection.

Our guide Rod was a great storyteller and extremely knowledgeable about the design and construction of Fallingwater. One of the best parts of the In-Depth Guided Tour was that we were able to take pictures both inside and outside of the house. Other tour options don’t allow photography beyond the first floor, so be sure to choose the one that’s right for you.

Whether you love or hate Frank Lloyd Wright the man, there’s no denying that his buildings are impressive. Fallingwater was every bit as fascinating as the photos you see online, and it was a truly unforgettable experience. –Duke

A view of the West Terrace and Sung Dynasty Buddha head.

Fallingwater

1491 Mill Run Road
Mill Run, Pennsylvania 15464
USA

 

Shocking Revelations About the Virgin Mary in the Bible

The Gospels barely mention Mary. They get her name wrong. They show Jesus being rude to her. And they make us question if she was even a virgin.

The worship of Mary has taken over Catholicism. But there’s a surprisingly scant amount of appearances by her in the New Testament — and those that are there can be problematic.

The figure of the Virgin Mary holds a place of honor in Christian theology and devotion, where she’s revered as the mother of Jesus and an embodiment of purity and divinity. And for Catholics, she’s essentially a goddess in her own right — and some would argue, perhaps more revered than Jesus himself.

However, a closer examination of the biblical texts reveals a series of astonishing revelations that challenge commonly held beliefs about Mary. In her book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Marina Warner presents a compelling analysis of the Gospel accounts, shedding light on the limited mentions of Mary, discrepancies in her portrayal and even doubts about her virginity. Published in 1976, Warner’s research continues to shock almost 50 years later.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.

Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture.”

— Maria Warner, "Alone of All Her Sex"

The Annunciation by Paolo de Matteis, 1712

There’s a lot of beliefs about Mary that don’t come from the Bible. But one story that does is the Angel Gabriel telling her she’ll get pregnant by the Holy Spirit and will give birth to the Son of God.

1. Mary is hardly mentioned in the Gospels.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible,” Warner writes. “Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.” 

Warner explains that “the sum total of the Virgin’s appearances in the New Testament is startlingly small plunder on which to build the great riches of Mariology,” the part of Christian theology devoted to Mary. “Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture,” Warner continues.

The Immaculate Conception by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1769

The idea that Mary was born without sin like the rest of us can’t be found anywhere in the New Testament.

In the Bible, the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary of Nazareth. At first she’s troubled and confused, but Gabriel prophesizes Jesus’ birth, to which Mary answers (“her most precious speech in Mariology,” Warner states), “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1:34). 

Gabriel explains, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:38).

The Annunciation, from an illuminated manuscript created at Gladzor Monastery in Armenia by Toros Taronatsi in 1323

Strangely enough, though, the Gospel writers can’t even get her name right: She’s called Mariám 12 times and Maria seven times, according to Warner. 

Only Luke hits the major moments in what has become our understanding of the Virgin Mary. Even so, in Luke’s Gospel, Mary speaks a mere four times. 

In Matthew, she is silent. After the account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew mentions Mary only one more time.

Mark has a single mention of Mary (and it’s hardly flattering as you’ll see). 

John’s Gospel was written after the other three, “and it differs so considerably from them that for a time even its inclusion in the canon was at risk,” Warner writes. In it, the mother of Jesus is never mentioned by name, and it doesn’t repeat any of the incidents concerning her from the other Gospels. 

Christ Crucified With the Virgin, Saint John and Mary Magdalene by Anthony van Dyck, 1619

Jesus wanted to make sure Mary and John viewed each other as family — and then he was able to die.

She’s shown, perhaps, in the best light in John at the Crucifixion. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother and “the disciple standing by, whom he loved” (i.e., John) and calls out, “Mother behold thy son!” and “Son behold thy mother!” John takes Mary into his home from that time on, the Gospel says. And Jesus, “knowing that all things were now accomplished,” drank vinegar and hyssop, and said, “It is finished” — “and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:26-30). 

The Marriage at Cana by Marten de Vos, 1597

Jesus is snippy with Mary at the event where he turns water into wine — a biblical passage that makes many a Catholic cringe.

2. Jesus is surprisingly rude to his mother.

In Mark’s recounting, Jesus has been preaching and attracting crowds, but his friends decide he has lost his mind, and his charisma is the work of the Devil (Mark 3:21). They call upon Jesus’ mother and brethren for help. Jesus asks, “Who is my mother or my brethren?” Then, looking around at those who have gathered to hear him, he declares, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother” (Mark 3: 34-5). “Thus Jesus rebuffs his earthly family to embrace the larger family of his spiritual fellowship,” Warner writes. 

Matthew and Luke feature the same story — but by the time Luke tells it, he’s defending Mary and the rest of the family, stating that they “could not come at him for the press” of the crowd (Luke 8:19). 

The episode is paralleled later in Luke. A woman in a crowd calls out, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” Jesus states, “Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:7-8). “Mary is not necessarily excluded from Jesus’ reply, but it certainly rings harshly,” Warner writes, adding, “The Catholic Church has consistently overlooked the hard-heartedness in Jesus’ words.”

John tells of the miracle at Cana, one of two conversations between Jesus and his mother (John 2:3-5):

Mother: They have no wine.

Jesus: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

Mother [to the servants]: Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. 

Jesus goes on to turn water into wine. “Mary, apparently rebuffed quite brutally by her son, understands that he will nevertheless perform a miracle,” Warner explains. 

The Marriage of the Virgin by Giotto, 1306

The big question is: Did Joseph and Mary have sex after she gave birth? It’s the most likely explanation for Jesus’ brothers and sisters.

3. Her very virginity is at question.

For many Christians, it’s unfathomable to imagine that the Virgin Mary, whose moniker is tied to her purity, might be the result of a poor translation. “[A]s for her virginity,” Warner writes, “the evangelists, far from asserting it, raise a number of doubts.” 

Of all the Gospels, only Matthew makes a clear statement about the virgin birth. He says that Jesus was conceived by the power of the Holy Ghost before Mary and Joseph “came together” (Matthew 7:20). 

But Matthew’s writer was using the Greek Septuagint translation of the Bible, where the Hebrew word “almah,” meaning a young girl of marriageable age, became “parthenos” in Greek — a word that carries a strong connotation of virginity.

Catholics “hold (not as an article of faith, but as a cherished and ancient belief) that Mary was virgo intacta post partum, that by special privilege of God she, who was spared sex, was preserved also through childbirth in her full bodily integrity,” Warner explains. Which, one has to imagine, means her hymen was intact. 

But Matthew’s language seems to suggest that Mary and Joseph had sex after the birth of Jesus: “Then Joseph … took unto him his wife: and knew her not till she had brought forth her first born son” (Matthew 1:24-5). Yes, that’s “knew” in the biblical sense. It’s basically saying Joseph and Mary didn’t have sex until after Jesus was born. But they did eventually do so — Mary didn’t remain a virgin. 

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Hans Holbein the Elder, 1501

If Mary was so pure, why did she have to undergo a period of cleansing before she could present Jesus in the temple?

Also problematic: Mary gives birth to Jesus and enters the temple only after the time for her purification has elapsed. Under Mosaic law, a woman must be cleansed of the impurity incurred at childbirth. But why would that be necessary if Mary was, miraculously, still a virgin?

A 16th century Russian icon of James the Just, one of Jesus’ siblings

And then there’s the issue of Jesus’ siblings, mentioned in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Some early thinkers of the Greek church came up with a solution that has no proof in the Bible: Joseph was a widower, and those children were from an earlier marriage. 

The Birth of Christ by Meister von Hohenfurth, circa 1350

Rethinking the Virgin Mary

Warner’s groundbreaking work Alone of All Her Sex challenges conventional beliefs surrounding the Virgin Mary, drawing attention to the limited scriptural references, Jesus’ puzzlingly brusque behavior to his mother and the ambiguity surrounding her virginity. These shocking revelations prompt a reevaluation of deeply ingrained perceptions and invite further exploration of the complex figure at the heart of the Christian and Catholic faiths. –Wally

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