Videos

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Votive to Siren

The Sirens are best known for their role in Homer’s The Odyssey. In this epic, the witch Circe warns Odysseus about the Sirens and how they will try to lure him and his men to their doom through enticing songs that promise future knowledge—like knowing too much may kill you. Homer never physically describes the Sirens, but there is a famous red-figure vase from around 480 BCE depicting Odysseus tied to the mast of his ship as bird-bodied creatures with nearly genderless human heads swoop down around it. By the Middle Ages, Sirens became more closely associated with hypersexualized, bare-breasted mermaids—half woman, half fish—who lure men with both their seductive songs and their bodies, drawing them to watery graves. Interestingly, there are numerous medieval translations of The Odyssey that depict mermaid-like women tempting Odysseus and his men instead of original, human headed birds. What drew me to make this piece, however, was twofold. First, the word siren itself. In ancient Greece, the term was applied to orators to suggest persuasive speech, though rarely as a compliment. By the Middle Ages, and especially during the Victorian era, siren became another term for a prostitute and was often depicted in art as a man-eating sexual mermaid monster. Perhaps most interestingly, in modern English a siren is a loud warning sound—something that signals danger, urges people to move to safety, and alerts us to approaching emergency vehicles. Second, Emily Wilson—the first woman to translate The Odyssey into English—published her translation in 2017 and describes the birds in Homer’s epic, including the Sirens, Athena’s transformation into a bird of prey, and other avian imagery, as “the ultimate image of speech and of freedom.” I wanted to ring this bell in honor of the Sirens’ knowledge giving origins, as well as in response to Wilson’s observation.
Added on: April 18, 2026

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Votive to Lucia

Names travel across history and folklore, sometimes unknowingly echoing earlier figures. To me, Lucia feels like an extension of Lamia’s story. Let me example with brevity— In reading Kimberly J. Lau’s 2025 book Specters of the Marvelous: Race and the Development of the European Fairy Tale, I learned about the character Lucia in the 1634/36, Pentamerone—The Tale of Tales. These were stories gathered by Giambattista Basile and later published after his death by his sister, Adriana Basile. In this collection, Zoza, daughter of the King of Hairy (or Brushy) Valley, frames the narrative, yet it is her conflict with Lucia that interests me most. Their antagonism opens and closes the collection. Lucia also plays a pivotal role in “The Three Citrons.” In both tales she is described as a deceitful Black slave. Fairy tale scholars classify Lucia and her stories as using the “false bride” trope. Basile’s use of Lucia is deliberate. In Speaking of Slavery: Color, Ethnicity, and Human Bondage in Italy, Steven Epstein notes that Lucia was among the three most common names given to enslaved women in early modern Italy and carried sexualized cultural associations. Basile likely expected readers to recognize those connotations. But why Lucia? Classical texts were popular in the Renaissance, including those of Plutarch, who wrote of the enslaved courtesan, Lamia and King Demetrius relationship. Could the Lucia be an echo of the Lamia? Both names connote light or radiance, and both figures share themes of deception, enslavement, sexualization, and monstrosity—parallels that are difficult to ignore.
Added on: April 18, 2026

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Votive to Lilitu and Lilu

Four thousand or so years ago, between and around the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, in the rise of the ziggurats and the erection of a civilization, magical thinking formed the deep roots of modern religion. Here, we have Lilitu (female night spirit/s that visited mostly men) and Lilu (male night spirit/s that visited mostly women). These nocturnal spirits posed little danger to the soul or person but were known to cause a wet dream from time to time and definitely were blamed for an unwanted or surprise pregnancy. Over time, the Lilu faded from the stories leaving the Lilitu to be morphed over the millenia to what a male dominated society needed her to be. Lilith originated from these lil- spirits.
Added on: April 18, 2026

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Votive to Mnesarete, daughter of Epicles of Thespiai

All primary accounts of Phryne’s life come from male Roman authors writing nearly five centuries after her death, offering biased, anecdotal, fictionalized, and romanticized visions of Classical Athens as they imagined it. According to these men, her beauty alone—revealed through the sudden exposure of her breast—persuaded an all-male Athenian jury to acquit her of impiety. They claimed statues of Aphrodite were modeled after her, and that she was so wealthy she offered to rebuild Thebes’ walls, provided they bear the inscription: “Alexander destroyed them, but Phryne restored them.” The offer was sharply ironic, as Phryne came from Thespiae, a city destroyed by Thebes. She was also reputed, by these same sources, to be exceptionally witty and clever. In truth, Phryne—whose real name was Mnesarete, daughter of Epicles of Thespiai—did exist, though her life is nearly unrecoverable. We know her name from a statue she had built of herself at Delphi by Praxiteles. Contemporary fragments survive describing her acquittal for impiety, but none mention the dramatic exposure of her breast. Historians cautiously suggest she may have modeled for the Aphrodite of Knidos, though certainly not all statues of the goddess. Surviving comedies and literary references attest to her wealth and celebrity in fourth-century Athens, yet the story of her offering to rebuild Thebes’ walls is almost certainly apocryphal—another great story layered onto a fragmentary life. One other thing we do know, these men, both her contemporaries and those from 500 years later, did not use her real name in their accounts of her. Instead, they used her uncomplimentary and derogatory nickname, Phryne, meaning "toad" in ancient Greek because of her sallow, yellowish skin complexion.
Added on: April 18, 2026

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Amaimon

The Christian demon Amaimon is described in medieval grimoires as having fiery poisonous breath. I believe this demon could be the demonization of ammonia. Based on European historical accounts, women of the middle ages were responsible for the fermentation of many liquids—beer for drinking and urine for cleaning. By the renaissance, it was also common to demonize aspects of women’s chores and tools in order to further marginalize their place in society. Additionally, ammonia was a common ingredient in alchemical work and in spell work and specifically protective magic—this all leading to is demonization. Ringing the bell redresses this demon.
Added on: November 13, 2024

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Klothod

The earliest found reference to Klothod, the demon, is in the Testament of Solomon, a first century CE text. From different translations, Klothod is decided as either “fate” or “war.” Klothod could be the demonization of the goddess Clotho, the first of the three Fates in Greek mythology. It is common to demonize female goddesses from a variety of cultures, especially one as powerful as fate and destiny. Ringing the bell redresses this demon.
Added on: November 13, 2024