Sekka's Mythical Beings

         Kamisaka Sekka (Japan, 1866-1942) was an artist who spanned the movement of Japanese art toward modernism.  The Japanese government sent him to Glasgow to study western arts, where he was much influenced by the Art Nouveau movement.  His work is more simplified and stylized than the styles of Japanese art that came before.  His masterpiece was the three volumes of Momoyogusa, which is sometimes translated A World of Things, and sometimes Flowers of a Hundred Worlds.  The latter is more poetic, but I’m guessing the former is more accurate a translation, and is certainly a more accurate description.  The 60 pieces depict some flowers, but also other plants and animals, views of nature and of daily life, objects, people, scenes from literature, and even a few mythical characters.  These last are what I have for you today.

        We have to start with the dragon, of course!  This is very dramatic, showing only the head and one taloned foot looming out of inky grey cloud.  The eyes and claws are gilded for extra punch, but it’s hardly necessary.

        Next up is another stormy character: Raijin, god of thunder.  He’s following his standard iconography by beating on his drums, while his hair flies wildly.  Again, you can see that this is relatively simple with large areas of flat color compared with traditional Japanese woodblock prints - but it’s still quite complicated compared with anything that uses a single block and a single color of ink.  (I mentioned Raijin’s companion thunder beast the raiju here.)

        And finally we have the hakuhō, translated as “white phoenix,” although I can’t find any information about what, if anything, this bird’s mythical powers might be.  Lots of fantastic birds seem to be translated as “phoenixes” without necessarily having anything in common with the phoenix proper, so I’d love to find out more about this one.  At the very least it’s certainly very beautiful.  I like the faint pattern of the wood grain in the background, and the delicate fluff of the bird’s tail feathers.

        If you want to see one of Sekka’s non-fantasy pieces, I featured his “Seven Herbs of Early Spring” in a previous post (or follow the link to the Cleveland Museum of Art in the credits to see lots of pieces.)

[Pictures: Ryū (Dragon), color woodcut by Kamisaka Sekka, 1909-10;

Raijin (God of Thunder), color woodcut by Kamisaka Sekka, 1909-10;

Hakuho (White Phoenix), color woodcut by Kamisaka Sekka, 1909-10 (All images from Cleveland Museum of Art).]

Creature Collections: Hidden Worlds

         Most of the Creature Collections I’ve featured over the years take the form of encyclopedias or field guides, listing a range of fantastical creatures said to be found in our world.  (If you’d like to see all the Creature Collections so far, look in the sidebar or here.)  Today I’m highlighting some books that play with the conceit of discovering different worlds of creatures.  Each of these books has actually been mentioned before in this blog, but I thought they deserved to be pulled together under the Creature Collections category.

        The Land of Neverbelieve, by Norman Messenger - This lavish book is the record of a visit to a mysterious island and the strange things seen there.  The watercolor and colored pencil illustrations are dreamlike, and the pages fold out to give even more room for pictures.  There is no story or apparent order to the information gathered here and Messenger's imagination has wandered freely, so there's a lot to look at.  Back when she was much younger my daughter T especially liked all the funny trees with their surreal shapes and produce.  I featured a few of these plants in my series of posts on the Botany of the Realms of Imagination: giant curly ferns, umbrella palms, and spaghetti trees.

However there are plenty of creatures in this book, as well!

Amarant, by Una Woodruff - This one reproduces the sketches and watercolors of a seventeenth century noblewoman whose travels brought her to the mysterious island of Amarantos, which was once known as Atlantis.  As a botanist, our artist was focussing her observations on plants, but the book finds its place among my creature collections because so many of the plants of Amarantos happen to be plant-animal hybrids with insects, birds, all kinds of other creatures, and even dragons.  This makes a fun coffee table book, excellent simply for admiring the pictures, however it dates back to 1981 and is no longer readily available.  I was lucky to find a used copy.  In past posts you can see the flower of immortality and a couple of insect-plants, as well as the Dragon Vine and Dillcorn.

        Codex Seraphinianus, by Luigi Serafini - This one is a little different in that it includes no story whatsoever, and all the text is written in an imaginary alphabet of some sort.  One chapter is on plants and you can see spreads of some of those illustrations here and here, but there are also chapters on machines and vehicles, cultural items, architecture, and of course creatures.  It’s another one that’s best for browsing through, and it’s beautiful, surreal, very weird, and definitely an oddity.  (Also first published in 1981, so clearly there was something in the air that year.)

        Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time, by James Gurney - The creatures in this book (followed by a series of books and other media) are not fantasy per se, since dinosaurs did of course actually exist.  But this is a fantasy version of dinosaurs, in which they have survived and evolved in intelligence but not form, and now are living in a collaborative society with humans.  As with the other books in today’s post, it’s the beauty of the illustrations that provides the appeal.  Like the others it’s in the form of an explorer’s notebook recording all the amazing things he discovers, and the magic of the book is in inviting us to immerse ourselves in the gorgeous pictures of wondrous things.  You can see mention of

Dinotopia along with some illustrations of these magical dinosaurs in a Steep Street, a Skybax rider, and Treetown.

        This is exactly the sort of book I was constantly devising in my childhood, with maps and short explanations, along with pictures of people, buildings, landscapes, and plenty of fantastical creatures.  Of course, my little booklets were neither as comprehensive nor as expertly illustrated as these!  If you’re in the mood for a strange and wondrous armchair journey, I recommend a look at any of these books, if you can find them.

[Pictures: Of Marsh and Stream, illustration by Norman Messenger from The Land of Neverbelieve, 2012;

Unicorn bird, illustration by Una Woodruff from Amarant, 1981;

Illustration by Luigi Serafini from Codex Seraphinianus, 1981;

Skybax Rider over Dinotopia, painting by James Gurney, c 1992 (Image from Heritage Auctions).]

Z is for Zorzi

         (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’ve shared excerpts of art, stories, and poetry from my book, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        Today’s story is another that’s inspired by elements of medieval folklore - particularly some of the botanical creatures found in travelers’ tales and marginalia - rather than by a particular fairy tale.  (However, it does also include yet another nod to “The Sleeping Beauty.”)  Here’s how it begins…

        Rich volcanic soil, moderate rainfall, and favorable agricultural regulations make the town of Arylli the perfect place for growing snapdragons – but it wasn’t always this way.  When Zorzi Ombor brought home a potted vegetable lamb (Agnifera borometz) from the Sorcerers’ Market in Rabo, his neighbors raised their eyebrows.  When his wife Aldita planted barnacle goose trees (Branta arborescens) among the almonds in their orchard, the townsfolk shook their heads.  And when Zorzi and Aldita began cultivating snapdragons (Dracophytum folium), the town fathers took a stand.

        Three of the most respected councilors called on the Ombors one afternoon in July.  Half a dozen vegetable lambs now lined the path to their cottage, grazing meditatively, each within the circuit of its long, flexible stem.  The soft cheeping of barnacle geese still inside their shells could be heard from the orchard on the low hillside behind the house.  To the side of the shed, however, the councilors could see the field of snapdragons.

        The snapdragons could see the councilors, too, and their narrow heads rose up on sinuous necks, turning like sunflowers to keep glowing yellow eyes fixed on the visitors.  One or two hissed softly, thin green tendrils escaping from their thorny jaws like steam.  The councilors crowded together on the path and hurried up to the Ombors’ door.

        “People don’t like them,” Councilor Polo Talig explained, “They’re a menace to the town.”

        “How?” asked Zorzi, as Aldita offered the visitors her famous almond shortbread.

        “Well, the teeth, for one thing.”

        “Nobody objects to rose bushes.”

        “And the vines they breathe out.”

        “Nobody objects to sweet peas.”

        “But they stare at people.  They’re clearly hostile!”

        “Nobody objects to cats.”

        “Look, Zorzi,” Polo insisted, “We know you like your specialty crops, and we’ve tried to be tolerant.  Really we have.”  He looked at the other councilors for support.  “But these dragon plant things are just too much.  We’ve gotten too many complaints.  They’re going to have to go.”

        “Go where?” asked Zorzi. 

        You can read about two of the three species mentioned in the excerpt above at these prior posts: The Vegetable Lamb of Tartary

        Magical Botany B

        Those two marvels both appear in travelers’ tales and people believed they existed in far-flung locales.  As for the Dracophytum folium, on the other hand, that’s inspired by marginalia.  If you’re not familiar with that term, consider it a Word of the Month: it means decorations or writing in the margins of a manuscript.  Marginalia can range from translations, commentary, and helpful diagrams, to elaborate decor to mere doodlings.  The marginalia in medieval illuminated manuscripts can be absolutely gorgeous, but even when it’s a deliberate part of a book’s design and decor, it usually has nothing at all to do with the subject or content of the book.  That left those medieval illuminators free to decorate margins with whatever strange and sometimes downright unhinged images came into their heads.  If you want to see some of the weirder marginal monsters, check out my 2022 A to Z posts on Z is for Zany and X is for Variables.  Of course I’m always on the lookout for dragons, and when I discovered a couple of dragons breathing out vines, I was quite taken with them.  Here are a couple of the dragons that inspired me, one breathing vines, the other with a viny tail.  So I made a botanical dragon of my own.  And if you want a coloring page of my design, you can download it here, as a little celebratory gift for reaching the end of the 2026 A to Z Blog Challenge!

        The moral of Zorzi and Aldita and their snapdragons is that there can be definite advantages to remaining unnoticed.

        Also, on the other hand, there can be definite advantages to being unique and special.

        I don’t have any Dracophytum folium, but I do have a collection of carnivorous plants!  Do  you have any unusual plants or pets?

[Picture: Dracophytum Folium, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2020 (Image from Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns);

Marginal decoration from Hebrew Festival prayer book, Italian, 3rd quarter of the 15th century (Image from the British Library);

Decoration from Book of Hours, Netherlands or Germany, mid-15th century (Image from the British Library);

Venus fly trap, pitcher plant, and sundew, photos by AEGNydam, 2026.]

Y is for Yossele

         (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        Yossele is the nickname, according to some accounts, of the Prague golem.  If you want to learn all about him, you simply need to go read my whole post about him: The Prague Golem.  Okay, now to consider what this legend contributed to my new collection.  For this one the artwork is the primary piece.  (If you’re interested in the process you can see the sketch and half-carved block in that previous blog post.)  This shows the golem taking the pleasant night-time air and quietly reading, while waiting to be called upon again.

        There are striking similarities between the lore of golems and shabtis (which you can find at S) and I might throw out a wild speculation that the Jewish folklore was influenced by the Egyptian mythology, although the timing may be wrong and I haven’t looked into whether actual scholars have any opinions on the matter.  In any case, though, they are both humanoid figures constructed out of clay (always, in the case of golems and usually but not always in the case of shabtis), for the purpose of serving humans.  But the interesting piece they share that I want to focus on today is that they’re both activated by the magic of written words, which constrain them to exact and literal obedience.

        The magical power of writing is a belief that many cultures have shared, particularly before eras of widespread literacy when people began to take the power for granted.  It’s a theme appropriate for Words of the Month, and one I’ve come back to myself on several occasions.  It was  particularly important in Sleeping Legends Lie, the second book in my high fantasy Otherworld series, in which our protagonists attempt to escape from enslavement by using writing to convince their captors that they’re sorcerers.  And then there’s the golem in Kate and Sam and the Cheesemonster, the third book in my series for elementary children.  In that story the exact wording of the golem’s instructions is central to the plot.  The idea that words can literally bring things to life is one that writers love, but these stories also remind us that words can wield incredible control over people.  My shabti pushes back against the power of the written spells that control him, while my golem has, perhaps, realized that by reading he can claim the power of words for himself.

        By the way, when I say that words constrain these beings to literal obedience and literally bring them to life, I mean that… literally.  The etymology of the word literal is from Latin “of letters or writing.”  It entered English in the late 14th century to distinguish an interpretation of a text (usually Scriptures) according to the words as written, as opposed to metaphorical or allegorical interpretations.  The word literal-minded, which is perfect for a golem, appeared in the late 18th century.

        For a little more about golems, including some books that feature them, (and more for Words of the Month) check out my post on Artificial Life.

        Y is also for Baba Yaga, another story that’s explored via artwork in Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns.  You can see more about that piece here at Baba Yaga Village.

        Do you enjoy being transported by words?  Here’s one last reminder that I and 5 other authors will be attempting to enchant you with excerpts from our work on May 1.  Find out the details, plus links to pre-register for this free on-line event here.  I’ll be reading a little something (teaser: actually two little somethings!) from Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns.

        The moral of the golem is that the words we hold in our heads can determine whether we turn toward truth (emét) or death (mét).

        Also, be careful what you say because words really do have power.

        Would you want to have a servant that, on the one hand, supposedly follows your every command, but on the other hand is liable to go rogue through taking its instructions too literally to their unintended extremes?  Oh wait, you already do: it’s called a computer.

        

[Picture: Staronová (Yossele), rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2023 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

X is for (Mermaid) X-ing

         (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.  Big thanks to the A to Z organizers for putting this all together, and don’t forget to check out what my fellow A to Z Bloggers are up to, here at the Master List.)

        This is another story based on general folklore rather than a specific tale.  In this case, we’re talking about mermaids.  I’ve shared an article clipped from some antique newspaper, and here’s an excerpt…

Plucky Mermaid Makes History on Third Attempt at Peninsula Crossing

HUSUM, Jun. 21, 1892 – The plucky young waitress from Skagerrak has successfully become the first mer to achieve a solo crossing of the Cimbric Peninsula.  At twelve minutes past one-o’clock this past Saturday, 23 year old Coral Kelpsina dove into the Husumer Au after 6 grueling hours and 48 minutes of endurance in her custom-built Bath chair.  Coral has won the hearts of landpeople and merpeople alike with her determination and spirit, and hundreds of well-wishers were gathered both above and below the water’s edge on Saturday to cheer her historic achievement. 

        This little piece was inspired by the idea that mermaids are as curious about dry land as humans are about the ocean.  Hans Christian Andersen’s “Little Mermaid” (followed by Disney’s retelling) took that idea to the extreme in one direction, but what if a mermaid followed her fascination with the land in another way?  Instead of giving up her agency and sacrificing her own identity for “love,” what if she invented a way to expand her abilities and challenge herself to accomplish something new?  I modelled the tone and style of my article on newspaper accounts of late 19th and early 20th century attempts to swim the English Channel.

        In order to illustrate this story I made a “faux” block print rather than carving and printing an actual block.  I figured there was no point in making a real print when there would be no market for pictures of a mermaid in a bath chair.  (But I think it came out rather charming, so maybe I should have carved this after all!)

        Looking for more mermaid fun?  Here are some prior posts featuring mermaid art and poems: Save the Merfolk

     Who is Catching Whom?

     Three Merpoems

        The moral of mermaids is that it’s never easy trying to bridge different worlds.  But the moral of this mermaid is that with hard work and persistence (and a team to support and encourage you) it is possible to achieve your dreams.

        Have you ever pushed yourself to perform a particularly challenging feat?  And who supported you in that endeavor?  I’m very grateful to have the support of my family as I chase my art and writing dreams.

[Picture: Plucky Mermaid, faux block print by AEGNydam, 2026 (Image from Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns).]

W is for Wicked Witches

         (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        I wasn’t quite sure whether or not to include today’s short story in Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns.  The reason is that it isn’t based on any specific fairy tale, but instead is inspired by various elements of modern folklore about wicked witches in general.  You can check out a prior blog post with a variety of block prints depicting Wicked Witches from 1720-1985, but my story is set in a version of wicked-witch-ness that doesn’t reflect older beliefs about witches and witchcraft.  Instead it will be very familiar to anyone who’s consumed movies, TV shows, etc. from the past 50 to 80 years or so.  I’ll give you a longer excerpt today, to set the scene…

        Two witches stood in the doorway below the sparkly purple banner that read “Welcome to the Grand Coven Annual Revels.”

        “Well, if it isn’t Cherry,” said the green-haired one with the large emerald amulet.

        “Oh my Dark Lord,” cackled the other, who was dripping with skull-shaped talismans, “She’s back.”

        Cherry’s smile was poisonously sweet.  “Laverne.  Agrippina.  It’s been too long.”  She paused a moment in the doorway to look around.  Too long to wait for vengeance, she thought.  As she headed into the rental hall her loose silk jacket swirled behind her, brushing against the two witches.  She could hear them whispering cattily, black cats at their feet, but her smile didn’t fade.  She felt the swing of the soft fabric around her shoulders.  Its bright flowered pattern gave her confidence.

        She found Millicent by the punch bowl.  Of course.  Cherry reached in to get herself a cup, not at all surprised when Millicent joggled her elbow on purpose and then said, “Oops” as if it were an accident.

        “Millicent, how have you been?”

        “Not bad,” the tall witch replied, making sure her insignia of power showed clearly.  “I’m High Mistress of my coven.  What about you?”

        “I’ve been studying abroad,” Cherry answered.

        “Did you ever even get a familiar?” Millicent asked, casually stroking the oversized ferret draped over her shoulder.  Millicent was the one who had murdered Cherry’s first familiar in some horrific ritual all those years ago.

        “I’ve got a bakehoari now.”

        Millicent raised pencil-thin eyebrows.  “A what?  What is that, some kind of… beetle, or something?  Couldn’t even get a rat, eh?  Some things never change.”  She grinned, her teeth as sharp as the weasel’s.  “Excuse me, I’ve got important people to see.”  Cherry’s jacket clung to Millicent’s black dress as she shoved past and headed toward a knot of witches in the center of the room.

        Cherry smoothed the fabric back down, thinking, Some things never change indeed.  All those spells to keep themselves eternally young, and all it does is keep them eternally immature.

        In addition to western witch folklore, this story also includes just a touch of Japanese folklore.  The bakehoari is an invention of my own inspired by Japanese legends of tsukumogami.  I don’t want to give away too much about my story, but I do invite you to read my prior post about these strange entities here.

        So, as I said, I dithered over whether this story really counted for my theme of “inspired by traditional fairy tales,” but in the end I figured “The more the merrier” and included it (along with a couple of other pieces in this “general folklore vibes” category, including my trickster tale at T).

        There are a few other wicked witches in the book, as well.  There’s the owl-witch mentioned at O,  and there are also the wicked witches from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, whom I mention in a light-hearted limerick about Dorothy Gale.  That’s the poem illustrated by the rubber block print at the top of today’s post.  I would have painted the magic shoes silver to honor L. Frank Baum’s book, but the MGM movie is right that ruby pops better against black and white.  As for Baum, he too was reimagining traditional fairy tales, spinning a modern American fairy tale from well-known traditional elements.  We’re all part of that long human chain of storytelling!

        The moral of wicked witches is that wickedness will be conquered in the end.

        Also, it’s important to examine your own means as well as your motives, lest you turn wicked yourself before you notice what you’ve become.

        The most famous re-imagining of The Wizard of Oz and its witches is, of course, the book cum musical cum movie dualogy “Wicked.”  Have you read or seen it?  Do you have opinions?

[Pictures: Someone Dropped a House, rubber block print with watercolor by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com);

Cherry Blossoms, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

U is for Unicorn Maiden

         (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by, reimagining, and riffing on fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.  Plus, be sure to check out all my fellow A to Z bloggers at the Master List of participants.)

        Mythology about unicorns has shifted quite a bit over the centuries.  The ancient Greeks and Romans believed that unicorns lived in India, had black or tri-colored horns, and included elements of not only horse anatomy, but also stag, wild ass, and even feet like an elephant.  To evade hunters a unicorn could throw itself off a cliff and land on its horn to absorb the shock, thus escaping unhurt.  By the middle ages Europeans thought of the unicorn as looking more like a horse or goat, and most often white.  It was now a woodland creature, fiercest of all beasts to be hunted, and it could be caught only with the taming influence of a virgin.  By the late twentieth century the unicorn had become entirely equine, most often white but sometimes with fancier decor such as rainbow mane and tale, gold or silver horn, and general sparkliness.  It was now mystical and sweet instead of fierce, had lost all its medieval and renaissance allegorical symbolism, and by the 21st century had gained instead a special symbolism within queer culture, and more broadly as a symbol of anything incredibly rare and special (and possibly purely fanciful).  You can read a prior blog post about Unicorns here.

        My short story “The Unicorn Maiden’s Tale,” however, is set very firmly within the medieval world of unicorn lore.

        They picked me when I was fifteen, because I looked the part as they imagined it: long blonde hair, pale pink skin, a maidenly blush...  I blush so much that the boys in my town always teased me about it, and sometimes I blush at the mere thought of how much I blush.  But such modesty was perfect for the Duke’s purposes.  His housekeeper dressed me in a long white gown, and his huntsmen sat me down in a mossy glade in the depths of the forest, stuck a garland of flowers on my head, and told me to wait.

        “What shall I do?” I asked.

        “I don’t know,” the captain of the hunt replied.  “How about singing.  Sweetly.”

        In this story the unicorn is the fiercest, most dangerous creature, drawn to the innocence of a virgin.  In the narrator’s culture the unicorn has powerful religious symbolism, serving as an allegory of Christ’s Incarnation through being born to a virgin, only to be killed by humans.  But it simultaneously represents secular ideas of sexual ardor, as well as of base animal passions being tamed by virtue – not to mention the fact that its horn is worth an enormous amount of money.  The medieval and renaissance beliefs about unicorns were complicated, many-layered, and fraught, and so it is for my unicorn maiden, forced to be the bait in the hunt for this rare and valuable – and dangerous – creature.  Content warning: this story includes more violence than is usual for me.  That’s frankly a pretty low bar because my writing it generally quite gentle, but it’s worth noting for my regular readers that when you deal with fairy tale and myth you do inevitably come up against some pretty dark themes.

        Unlike most of my block prints, for this one I haven’t put any twist on the traditional iconography.  For purposes of keeping my story firmly rooted in the medieval mythology about unicorns, this little piece is based closely on a handful of medieval illuminations and renaissance wood block prints from bestiaries.

        The traditional moral of the Unicorn Maiden would be all that allegorical stuff I’ve already described.  But my moral is that sometimes “innocence” may not look the way you expect.

        Let us know: are you a unicorn fan, and do you own any unicorn paraphernalia?  T-shirts, figurines, plush animals, reproduction tapestries, mugs, or any other unicorn-themed items?

[Picture: Taming the Unicorn, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]