Arachne and Athena
A long time ago, in the city of Lydia, a father lived with his only daughter. The man’s name was Idmon, a skilled craftsman who was loved by his neighbors. Despite his talents, he was a humble and devout follower of Zeus, Poseidon, Demeter, and all the great gods who ruled from the castle atop Mount Olympus.
His daughter, Arachne, was also a skilled artisan, but her talents lied in weaving.
Even as a young girl, Arachne created elegant curtains and embroideries that far surpassed those of her elders. By the time she reached maidenhood, crones and nymphs would gather around Arachne as she tugged, twisted, and created tapestries fit for royalty. The colors were so vibrant and the scenes so lifelike, it was as if they were woven from the fabric of earth.
It wasn’t long before word of the talented weaver from Lydia spread to neighboring lands. Each day, the crowd of people who came to watch the maiden grew larger, and eventually, it was so enormous that it could be seen from Mount Olympus. Athena, who had been admiring the young weaver’s embroideries with equal parts fondness and jealousy, was surprised when she started hearing rumors. Apparently, Arachne boasted to friends and neighbors that her pieces could rival those of the gods—even Athena, the master of handicrafts.
Athena balked at such a thought, but figured she would pay Arachne a visit. Perhaps the young mortal needed a reminder that a talent like hers was not a thing of chance, but a divine gift that required thanks.
When Athena arrived in Lydia, it was midday and the crowd around Arachne was growing larger by the minute. Disguised as a crone, Athena pushed her way to the front and was momentarily taken aback by the magick flowing from the maiden’s fingertips.
Athena cleared her throat and, in a raspy voice, asked the young weaver how she learned to spin such fine threads.
Arachne rolled her eyes at the old woman, for this was something people asked her every time she sat down at her stool.
She told the crone that she was born to weave. Her father had taught her that she need not chase money or fame, because if she followed her passion with unwavering dedication, she would want for nothing.
Athena frowned. But, didn’t she credit the gods for blessing her with such a miraculous talent?
Arachne laughed and shook her head. She told the crone that her abilities were born from dedication and practice, not from some distant god sleeping atop a mountain. Why, the maiden even went as far as to boast that she could beat anyone, god or mortal, in a weaving contest.
At this mention, the crone smiled. What about the great goddess Athena?
Arachne was starting to get annoyed with the crone. Of course she could beat Athena. She waved her hand and told the grandmother to leave her be, but when the weaver looked back to where the old woman stood, she saw a tall, strapping warrior in her place.
When the crowd realized that they were in the presence of the great goddess, they fell to their knees.
Everyone, that is, except for Arachne.
The maiden’s pride quickly eclipsed her momentary embarrassment, and when Athena challenged her to a weaving contest, she agreed without hesitation.
The rules were simple; each woman had one hour to create the most beautiful tapestry. The winner would be crowned master of the loom and would be responsible for deciding the loser’s fate.
The women went to work straight away. As the minutes ticked by, the crowd grew larger but not a single person dared speak a word.
At the end of the hour, Athena and Arachne hung their tapestries side-by-side.
Athena’s creation was breathtaking. Her tapestry was soft as silk and almost appeared as if it were glowing. When the admirers looked at Athena’s hanging, they saw all twelve Olympians standing tall atop their sacred mountain. They were bathed in golden light, which rained down on the earth, where the mortals accepted each droplet with gratitude.
Arachne’s tapestry was just as awe-inspiring, and also depicted all twelve Olympians. But in her creation, the gods lounged lazily in the sky. They appeared violent, drunk, and greedily drank the precious light from the sun before it could reach the mortal realm below. When reading Arachne’s tapestry, one would assume that Athena was not an idol fit for worship. She resembled an insatiable, self-absorbed princess who had overstayed her welcome in the mortal world.
Upon seeing Arachne’s blatant disrespect of the gods, Athena cursed the maiden. Although she knew that there was truth to Arachne’s story, she was humiliated and too proud to admit wrongdoing. With a wave of her hand, Athena scorched the tapestry and turned the vibrant needlework to ash.
The crowd watched in horror as Arachne’s body fell to the ground and sprouted an extra leg. And then another, and another.
Arachne, once a beautiful maiden (albeit a boastful and arrogant one), would live out the rest of her days as a spider. The crowd that used to oohh and aahh while looking over her shoulder, now scurried away at the first sight of her.
But despite Athena’s curse, Arachne still weaves. The youthful maiden is no more, but her tapestries remain. They ripple and dance with each breath of wind as if to gloat: even if you’re foolish enough to slight the gods, your story will still live on.
$ 17.00
Wall tapestry featuring The Sun tarot card. Measures 5 ft x 4.25 ft.… read moreThe Sun Tarot Tapestry
