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Kanye West’s Cultural Impact: Art, Controversy, and Industry Transformation

Musique, Réflexions,

Few artists have shaped 21st-century music as profoundly as Kanye West. At once celebrated, criticised, and endlessly debated, he stands as one of the most polarising cultural figures of his generation. His public controversies have complicated his legacy, yet they have not erased the structural changes he brought to music, aesthetics, and the way artists position themselves within popular culture.

This tension between artistic influence and moral controversy is not new. French literary history, for instance, still studies Louis-Ferdinand Céline, author of Voyage au bout de la nuit, despite his political extremism and collaborationist past. The comparison is not about equivalence, but about a recurring cultural question: how do we assess works that changed their field when their creators remain ethically contested?

Understanding Kanye West’s importance requires looking beyond headlines and examining how he reconfigured hip-hop’s sound, themes, and ambitions.

A Turning Point: The College Dropout and the End of the Gangsta Monoculture

Released in 2004, The College Dropout disrupted a mainstream rap landscape dominated by gangsta imagery and club-oriented production. Instead of adopting that persona, West presented himself as an outsider: middle-class, self-conscious, vulnerable, and openly influenced by soul music.

Key Industry Shifts Introduced:

  • Soul-sample revival: West popularised sped-up, chopped soul samples, creating a warmer, emotionally resonant sound that contrasted sharply with the era’s polished minimalism.
  • Relatability over mythology: Songs about insecurity, faith, and work replaced the untouchable gangster archetype.
  • Producer as auteur: He redefined the producer not as a background technician but as the central creative identity.

This album helped legitimize alternative narratives in rap, opening space for artists who did not fit the dominant mold.

Stadium Rap and the Pop Convergence: Graduation

With Graduation (2007), West pivoted again, this time toward maximalism and cross-genre ambition.

Inspired by arena rock and electronic music, the album embraced:

  • Anthemic scale (“stadium rap”) designed for mass audiences rather than clubs.
  • Explicit dialogue with pop and electronic music, notably through sampling and collaborations.
  • Visual identity as fine art, including artwork by Takashi Murakami, signalling a merger between hip-hop and contemporary art culture.

This period accelerated the mainstream fusion of rap and pop, paving the way for artists like Drake, whose hybrid melodic style would dominate the following decade.

Emotional Transparency and the Melodic Era: 808s & Heartbreak

In 2008, 808s & Heartbreak marked one of the most radical stylistic pivots in mainstream rap.

At the height of his commercial power, West abandoned traditional rap delivery for Auto-Tuned singing and minimalist electronic production. Initially divisive, the album proved enormously influential.

Its Long-Term Impact:

  • Normalised vulnerability and emotional fragility in hip-hop.
  • Established melody-driven rap as a dominant commercial form.
  • Influenced an entire generation of artists blending rap, pop, and R&B aesthetics.

Today’s introspective, genre-fluid hip-hop landscape owes much to this moment of risk.

The Postmodern Hip-Hop Blueprint

West’s later works, especially My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and Yeezus, crystallised what could be called a postmodern phase of hip-hop.

Rather than inventing entirely new sounds, he acted as a cultural synthesiser, pulling together disparate influences:

  • Maximalist production, progressive rock structures, and orchestration.
  • Industrial, electronic, and avant-garde textures entering the mainstream.
  • Self-referential storytelling and myth-building around the artist persona.

In this sense, West functioned less like a traditional innovator and more like a curator-architect—making experimental aesthetics legible to mass audiences.

Beyond Music: A Holistic Cultural Figure

Kanye West’s influence cannot be measured solely through charts or awards. His real impact lies in redefining what a hip-hop artist could be:

  • The artist as multidisciplinary brand (music, fashion, performance, design).
  • The album as conceptual statement, not just a collection of songs.
  • The collapse of genre hierarchies, where rap could absorb electronic, rock, gospel, and experimental traditions.
  • Internet-era authorship, where controversy, spectacle, and creativity coexist in real time.

He became, for better or worse, a central figure of the digital age’s blurred boundary between art, persona, and media narrative.

Separating Influence from Individual

Acknowledging Kanye West’s influence does not require endorsing his actions or statements. Cultural history is filled with figures whose contributions remain foundational despite deeply problematic lives.The challenge for critics, scholars, and audiences is analytical rather than moral:
to understand how certain works reshape artistic languages even when their creators remain contested.

Conclusion: A Structural Legacy

Kanye West did not simply produce successful albums—he altered the framework of contemporary music:

  • He broadened the emotional vocabulary of hip-hop.
  • He accelerated the fusion of rap with global pop culture.
  • He modelled the 21st-century artist as a total cultural agent rather than a genre specialist.

Whether viewed as visionary, disruptor, or contradiction, his imprint is embedded in the DNA of modern music. To study today’s sonic landscape without him would be to overlook one of its central architects.

Meet your Maker : Adapting a mobile genre into PC / console

Jeux vidéos / Technologie, , , , ,

Behaviour Interactive Inc. released Meet Your Maker on April 4, 2023. The game represented an ambitious attempt to evolve the original concepts the studio is known for perfecting—specifically, a new take on asymmetrical gameplay. However, since its launch, the title has faced a fundamental « device problem. »

The Core Concepts

The gameplay loop consists of two distinct phases:

  • The Raid: Players enter user-generated dungeons guarded by traps and sentinels to retrieve « Genmat »—a vital resource. Once obtained, the player must escape the dungeon to successfully secure the loot.
  • The Building: Players construct their own outposts, hiding Genmat and strategically placing traps and guards to eliminate raiders.

The game is asynchronous; players do not need to be online simultaneously. You can raid or be raided at any time.

Building & Raiding : A mobile game genre

This « build and raid » loop is a staple of mobile gaming. Well-known examples include Supercell’s Clash of Clans (2012) and Zeptolab’s King of Thieves (2015). The genre thrives on mobile devices for several reasons:

Clash of Clans
  • Simple Mechanics: Clash of Clans focuses on strategic unit placement, while King of Thieves relies on well-timed jumps.
  • Short Loops: Games are designed for quick sessions « on the go. »
  • Live Operations: Features can be rapidly tested and iterated upon via updates.
  • Monetization: The intertwined phases allow for systems that increase ARPU (Average Revenue Per User). For instance, players can pay to skip « build times » or maintain defenses while upgrading.

What does this mean? For example, these games offer upgrades that take time. You have to wait X hours or days to get your upgrade. To avoid this delay, you can pay. What’s more, an upgrade can make traps and defences unavailable to incoming players. You can’t upgrade everything at once, unless you pay. Players are encouraged to spend money to play more and maximise their progress, while playing daily for rewards. It’s a clever take on the game’s scalability. It works thanks to all the elements mentioned above. 

In short, the mechanics and concepts are designed for mobile and work perfectly.

Social Dynamics

The strength of these games lies in their social ecosystem. Analyzing an enemy’s base informs your own builds, and a successful raid on your territory highlights weaknesses in your design. While mobile titles use clan systems and Battle Passes to drive engagement, Meet Your Maker attempted to translate this social feedback loop into a high-fidelity 3D environment.

The Proposition and Its Obstacles

Meet Your Maker mirrors King of Thieves in its validation requirement: you must be able to complete your own dungeon before publishing it. However, translating this to a first-person perspective created balancing hurdles.

Pacing: While the game supports various playstyles, the freedom given to builders often discourages aggressive raiding.
Resource Scarcity: To prevent players from methodically « sniping » every trap from a distance, ammunition for ranged weapons is limited, forcing raiders to move into dangerous territory to recover bolts. While clever, this often slows the game’s pace to a crawl in difficult dungeons.
The Balance Gap: Melee weapons and shields frequently feel underpowered when faced with high-density « kill boxes. »
Update: While post-launch content has expanded the toolkit for both builders and raiders, the core philosophy—and the struggle to balance these two sides—remains the central challenge.

A Marathon, Not a Sprint

Raiding and building are popular on mobile but historically struggle on PC/Console. Successful PC asymmetrical games, such as Dead by Daylight, Among Us, or Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes, usually rely on direct social interaction or high-stakes teamwork.

Asynchronous multiplayer games often struggle to maintain a critical mass of active players. We have seen titles like Lemnis Gate shut down, and Evolve famously struggled with its business model and design balance.Unlike mobile games, which can rely on aggressive user acquisition and low development costs, PC/Console titles require massive retention to justify ongoing DLC production. Meet Your Maker occupies a difficult « middle ground »: it has the soul of a mobile hit but the coat of an ambitious PC title.

References:

Lemnis Gate shutdown: 

https://www.gamedeveloper.com/business/ratloop-games-announces-i-lemnis-gate-i-will-end-in-july

Ask a game dev — Evolve breakdown:

https://www.tumblr.com/askagamedev/174664286363/an-interesting-breakdown-on-the-game-evolve

Dead by Daylight: 

https://www.polygon.com/23978649/dead-by-daylight-player-count-2023

Meet your Makers Devs interview: 

https://gamerant.com/meet-your-maker-dreadshore-expansion

Interview of Rémi Racine — CEO and Executive Producer — and  Wayne Meazza – Executive Vice President:

Interview with Behaviour Interactive: Rémi Racine and Wayne Meazza

Evolution of the number of active players since the released of Meet Your Makers: 

https://steamcharts.com/cmp/1194810#All

From Page to Screen: The Many Lives of Pride and Prejudice

Littérature, , , , ,

As Emerald Fennell is currently adapting Wuthering Heights for the big screen, it feels like the perfect moment to turn our attention to another major classic of English literature that continues to fascinate readers and filmmakers alike: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. First published in 1813, the novel has never truly left popular culture. More than two centuries later, it is still read, discussed, quoted, and endlessly adapted, proving its exceptional longevity. What makes Pride and Prejudice so timeless is not only its romantic plot, but also its sharp social observations, its subtle humour, and its memorable characters. Jane Austen’s writing combines irony and emotion, allowing readers to enjoy the love story while also reflecting on the society it portrays. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy have become iconic figures, representing misunderstandings, personal growth, and the slow evolution from prejudice to love. Their relationship is not based on immediate attraction, but on learning, self-reflection, and mutual respect.

Over the years, many adaptations have tried to bring this story to life, each reflecting the cultural context of its time and the expectations of its audience. Some aim for strict fidelity to the original text, while others choose to modernise the story or reinterpret its themes. This article focuses on three major adaptations that show how flexible and relevant Austen’s work remains: the BBC miniseries from 1995 starring Colin Firth, the 2005 film directed by Joe Wright with Keira Knightley, and finally the modern reinterpretation Bridget Jones’s Diary, which openly plays with Austen’s characters and themes while setting the story in contemporary London.

Jane Austen and the Adaptation Phenomenon

Jane Austen is one of the most adapted authors in English literature, both in film and television. Her novels are relatively short, strongly character-driven, and full of dialogue, which makes them particularly suitable for screen adaptations. The limited number of locations and the importance of social interactions also make her stories easy to translate visually, whether in period dramas or modern settings.

Moreover, the themes Austen explores (marriage, class, money, reputation, and social expectations) are still relevant today, even if the social structures have evolved. While the economic dependence of women has changed since the nineteenth century, social pressure around relationships, success, and personal image still exists in different forms. Pride and Prejudice is especially popular because it combines romance with irony and social critique. It does not simply tell a love story, but also criticises the rigid class system of early nineteenth-century England. Through Elizabeth Bennet’s point of view, Austen questions social hierarchies and gender roles, while never becoming moralising or heavy-handed. Elizabeth’s intelligence, independence, and refusal to marry without love feel surprisingly modern, which explains why audiences continue to identify with her. Adaptations allow each generation to rediscover the novel in a new way. They also reveal what each era values in the story: historical accuracy, emotional intensity, visual beauty, or contemporary relevance. The contrast between these approaches is particularly visible when comparing the 1995 BBC series and the 2005 film adaptation.

The 1995 BBC Series: Faithfulness and Cultural Impact

The BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, released in 1995, is often considered the definitive screen version of the novel. Directed by Simon Langton and written by Andrew Davies, the series consists of six episodes, which allows it to follow the book very closely. Most scenes, dialogues, and narrative developments are taken directly from Austen’s text, sometimes even using entire passages of dialogue. This format gives the story time to breathe. Secondary characters such as Charlotte Lucas, Lydia Bennet, or Mr Collins are fully developed, which helps viewers understand the social stakes of marriage and reputation at the time. The slow evolution of Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship feels natural and convincing, as misunderstandings and emotional changes are given enough space to unfold. The pacing reflects the rhythm of the novel, making the series particularly appreciated by readers who value fidelity to the source material. One of the most important elements of this adaptation is Colin Firth’s portrayal of Mr Darcy. His performance played a major role in redefining the character in popular culture. Darcy is shown as reserved, socially awkward, and emotionally restrained, but also deeply sensitive and principled. This interpretation humanises the character and makes his emotional growth more visible. The famous lake scene, in which Darcy unexpectedly emerges from the water in a wet white shirt, became iconic and contributed greatly to the series’ popularity. While not present in the novel, the scene visually expresses Darcy’s vulnerability and emotional confusion, showing how even faithful adaptations sometimes add new elements to enhance storytelling. Beyond its romantic appeal, the BBC series also presents a detailed reconstruction of Regency England. Costumes, locations, and social manners are carefully depicted, reinforcing a strong feeling of authenticity. This attention to historical detail aligns with the BBC’s long tradition of literary adaptations and reflects a certain cultural prestige associated with classic literature. Even today, the 1995 series remains a reference point. Many later adaptations are inevitably compared to it, especially when it comes to the character of Mr Darcy.

The 2005 Film: A More Emotional and Cinematic Approach

In contrast, Joe Wright’s 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice takes a very different approach. Starring Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet and Matthew Macfadyen as Mr Darcy, the film is shorter, more visual, and more emotionally intense than the BBC series. Due to its limited runtime, the film cannot include all the details of the novel. Some secondary characters are less developed, and certain plot elements are simplified or omitted. However, this is compensated by a strong cinematic style that focuses on atmosphere and emotion rather than narrative precision. Wright uses natural lighting, long tracking shots, and expressive landscapes to create an immersive and almost intimate viewing experience. The Bennet family home is shown as noisy and chaotic, highlighting their lower social position, while grand estates such as Pemberley are filmed with a sense of openness and freedom rather than strict formality. Keira Knightley’s Elizabeth is more openly emotional and physically expressive than in previous versions. Her performance emphasises Elizabeth’s youth, energy, and vulnerability, making her feel closer to a contemporary heroine. Similarly, Matthew Macfadyen’s Darcy is more introverted and socially uncomfortable, which makes him less traditionally confident but perhaps more relatable to a modern audience. One of the most striking aspects of the film is its focus on physical and emotional tension. Scenes such as Darcy’s first proposal in the rain or the final declaration at dawn are not found in the novel but have become memorable moments for viewers. These additions highlight how adaptations can reinterpret a story rather than simply reproduce it, prioritising emotional impact over textual accuracy. The 2005 film was particularly successful with younger audiences and helped reintroduce Pride and Prejudice to a new generation. It shows how a classic text can be reshaped to fit contemporary cinematic expectations while still respecting its original spirit.

Bridget Jones’s Diary: A Modern and Playful Adaptation

Perhaps one of the most interesting adaptations of Pride and Prejudice is also the least obvious. Published in 1996 and adapted into a film in 2001, Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding is a modern reinterpretation of Austen’s novel. Set in late twentieth-century London, the story follows Bridget Jones, a single woman in her thirties navigating love, work, friendship, and social pressure. The parallels with Pride and Prejudice are clear: Bridget is a modern Elizabeth Bennet, Daniel Cleaver resembles George Wickham, and Mark Darcy is, of course, Mr Darcy, played once again by Colin Firth. This casting choice is not accidental. It creates a direct intertextual link between the BBC series and Bridget Jones’s Diary, rewarding viewers who are familiar with Austen’s work. The character of Mark Darcy is initially perceived as cold, distant, and socially awkward, but gradually reveals himself to be kind, loyal, and emotionally sincere, echoing Austen’s original character arc. What makes Bridget Jones’s Diary particularly interesting is its tone. The story is humorous, self-aware, and openly feminist in a contemporary sense. While Austen subtly criticised social expectations placed on women, Bridget Jones addresses these pressures more directly, especially regarding body image, career success, and romantic fulfilment. This adaptation demonstrates how Pride and Prejudice can be translated into a completely different cultural context without losing its core themes. It proves that Austen’s insights into love, misunderstanding, and self-perception remain relevant, even in a world of dating apps, office politics, and modern media.

Why Pride and Prejudice Still Matters Today

The enduring popularity of Pride and Prejudice and its adaptations raises an important question: why does this story continue to resonate so strongly with audiences? One reason is that its central conflict is deeply human. Pride and prejudice are not limited to a specific time period; they are universal traits that still shape relationships today. Moreover, the story offers a form of romantic narrative that is based on personal growth rather than instant attraction. Both Elizabeth and Darcy must confront their own flaws, biases, and misconceptions before they can truly be together. This idea of emotional development feels particularly meaningful in a modern context where relationships are often portrayed as fast, superficial, and disposable. From a cultural management perspective, Pride and Prejudice also illustrates how classic works can be continuously rebranded and reintroduced to new audiences. Each adaptation adds economic and cultural value to the original text, reinforcing its place in the literary canon while keeping it accessible and relevant.

From the faithful BBC series to the visually striking 2005 film and the playful modern adaptation Bridget Jones’s Diary, Pride and Prejudice has proven its ability to evolve with time. Each adaptation reflects the era in which it was created, offering a new interpretation of Jane Austen’s work while preserving its essential themes. As contemporary filmmakers continue to revisit classic literature, Austen’s novel remains a perfect example of how stories can transcend their original context. Pride and Prejudice is not just a period romance; it is a living cultural object, constantly reshaped by the society that engages with it. For readers and viewers alike, this ongoing reinvention may be the greatest achievement of Jane Austen’s legacy.

Written by Anna

Why Are Western Gen Zers « Turning Chinese »? Unpacking the #BecomingChinese Phenomenon

Pop culture, Réflexions

A British martial arts enthusiast demonstrates Chinese kung fu at the square in front of the Bell and Drum Towers in Beijing on Monday. From China Daily

In early 2026, if you open TikTok or Instagram, you’ll witness a peculiar sight: young blonde women boiling apple slices on camera, American youths at the gym swapping their smoothie cups for thermoses, and European influencers earnestly posting « Today’s Chinese wellness check-in » videos. Their captions are strikingly similar — « I’m becoming Chinese ».

The tipping point of this trend can be traced back to December 6, 2025. Sherry Zhu, a 22-year-old Chinese American girl, posted a 20-second video: « You don’t know me. I’m a Chinese American. Whoever you are, since you scrolled onto this video, you are Chinese now. Don’t resist. It’s your destiny. » This playful « diagnosis notice » unexpectedly ignited a global cultural movement. As of February 2026, the total views for the #BecomingChinese hashtag on TikTok has surpassed 500 million.

This article seeks to answer the questions: Why « China »? Why « now »? When young Westerners begin earnestly listing « Chinese lifestyle checklists » in their memos — a cup of warm water in the morning, wearing slippers indoors, soaking feet before bed, practicing Baduanjin — what cultural psychology and social shifts does this reflect?

The essence of the « #BecomingChinese » phenomenon is a fundamental transformation in the paradigm of folk cultural communication in the era of globalization: a shift from top-down « cultural export » to bottom-up « cultural resonance, » from grand narratives to tangible, everyday practices. It is both a response from Western Gen Z to their own societal anxieties and a vivid footnote to the « everyday life turn » of China’s soft power.

Tracing the Phenomenon: From « Chinese Baddie » to Global Imitation Wave 

The New Generation of Chinese Americans as « Cultural Translators »

Sherry Zhu’s success is no accident. Born in New Jersey, she is a classic « third culture kid » — her father is from Pinghu, Zhejiang; her grandmother is from Shenyang; her mother grew up in Guizhou. Raised by her grandmother, she « particularly loves eating pickled cabbage. » This dual cultural background endows her with a unique translation ability.

Photo of Sherry Zhu

Another key figure is blogger Emma Peng. With her phrase « My culture can be your culture, » she alleviated Western audiences’ moral anxiety about « cultural appropriation, » effectively issuing a « cultural passport. »

These young Chinese Americans act as « cultural translators. » They don’t rigidly explain concepts like « Qi » or « Yin-Yang » from traditional Chinese medicine. Instead, they package Chinese wellness concepts using terminology familiar to Western health circles, such as « detox, » « lower cortisol, » and « heal the gut. » This « conceptual translation » is key to successful cross-cultural communication — preserving the core experience while replacing the explanatory framework.

The Reshaping of Identity with « Chinese Baddie »

Sherry’s creation of the « Chinese Baddie » concept is worth analyzing. Originally carrying somewhat negative connotations, « baddie » has evolved in social media contexts to refer to someone confident, attractive, and unapologetically themselves. This concept dissolves the tension associated with learning about a foreign culture, transforming cultural identification into a confident, fashionable lifestyle attitude. Foreign netizens post videos of themselves boiling apple water with captions like « Striving to become a Chinese Baddie » , treating Sherry as their « Chinese cousin. »

Sherry Zhu has amassed millions of views by explaining the appeal of these everyday practices, according to The New York Times. She has also been written by Time Magazine, NBC News, Radio-Canada and The Times about her impactful  “turning Chinese” social media content.

Decoding Through Communication Studies: Algorithms, Imitation, and « Decentralized » Cultural Flow

The « Compound Interest Effect » of Algorithms

From a communication studies perspective, the viral spread of this trend is inseparable from the underlying logic of social media platforms. Algorithms naturally favor content that is visually distinctive, easy to imitate, and has a low barrier to participation. A short video showcasing a « Chinese morning routine » — drinking hot water, cooking congee, wearing slippers — has a uniform format and easily learnable actions, readily inspiring viewers to think, « I’ll try that too. » 

What follows is a wave of « note-taking » in the comments sections. Users are no longer just spectators; they become practitioners. They start discussing the ideal ratio for boiling apple water, debating the best brands of foot baths, and even sharing their physical sensations after practicing Baduanjin. This high-intensity interaction triggers social media algorithms, pushing related videos into broader traffic pools.

The « Memetic » Spread of Imitation

The phrase « Tomorrow you will become Chinese » possesses strong internet meme qualities. With a half-joking, half-commanding tone, it breaks through the typical cautiousness in cross-cultural communication. She doesn’t ask viewers to understand Chinese culture; she confidently predicts they will fall in love with this lifestyle. This confidence itself is a micro manifestation of growing cultural soft power.

Foreign netizens, as if preparing for an exam, list out « Becoming Chinese » checklists in their memos: a cup of warm water in the morning, remembering the date of Chinese New Year, must wear slippers indoors… More detailed versions even include whole Chinese wellness routines like practicing Baduanjin, sunbathing and walking, and soaking feet before bed.

From « Symbol Consumption » to « Embodied Experience »

Miao Xi, an international Chinese education expert based in Calgary, Canada, points out that the visualization and immediacy of platforms like TikTok transform mundane details of ordinary Chinese life — drinking hot water, wearing cotton slippers, soaking goji berries — into observable, imitable, and shareable global daily practices, breaking down spatial barriers in cultural dissemination. Short videos condense complex wellness philosophies into one apple, a kettle of hot water, a pair of plush slippers, and a few Baduanjin movements. Anyone interested can easily participate and submit their own « experience report. »

Cultural Psychology: Modernity Anxiety and the « Therapeutic Effect » of Eastern Wisdom

Reflections on Western Modernity

The fast-paced life fostered by industrial civilization has made insomnia, anxiety, and chronic diseases common global disturbance. People urgently need low-cost solutions for physical and mental well-being. The gentle nurturing of drinking hot water, the critical thinking of food therapy, and the self-discipline of regular routines found in Chinese lifestyles precisely meet this need.

Wired magazine analyzed that the trend of « becoming Chinese » is related to how « Made in China » has become an indispensable part of Western society, especially American life, over decades. More profoundly, it reflects  Western modernity’s ethos of « conquering nature » and Eastern wisdom like « Heaven and humanity are one » .

« Usefulness » is Truth: Positivist Cultural Identity

Western audiences are not drawn to Chinese culture because it is « mysterious, » but because it « works. » The comments sections are filled with positivist feedback:

User Miriam stated: « Since giving up ice water and switching to warm water, my acid reflux has improved dramatically. This change is truly as precious as gold. »

Foreign girl Melody Aslan shared that after learning the fitness routines of Chinese grandmothers, her morning discomfort completely disappeared, giving her a fresh start to the day.
An American health blogger now champions « drink more hot water » as a life guide.

This utility-based dissemination is more enduring than aesthetics-based dissemination. A cup of hot water embodies the concept of « preventive treatment of disease » ; a bowl of warm congee carries the philosophy of « slowly nurturing body and mind. » This core value, resonating with universal human needs, allows Chinese daily practices to transcend cultural differences and become a shared choice for navigating modern dilemmas.

Controversy and Response: « Cultural Appropriation » or « Cultural Appreciation »?

Facing doubts, Sherry’s response was clear: « I don’t think it’s cultural appropriation. My content mainly revolves around Chinese food and daily habits, and habits belong to everyone. » She believes real cultural appropriation happens without understanding, « but in my comments section, many people are learning why Chinese people live this way. There’s understanding, there’s learning — it’s cultural appreciation. »

Social Context: Offline Extension from « China Travel » to « China Shopping »

Policy Dividends: Expanding Visa-Free « Friends Circle »

This online trend does not exist in isolation; it mirrors and reinforces the popularity of offline « China Travel » documentary videos, creating a mutually strengthening loop. As visa policies become more convenient, more and more foreign travelers are using their cameras to document their experiences in China.

On the first day of the Bingwu Year of the Horse, China implemented visa exemption policies for ordinary passport holders from Canada and the UK. To date, China’s unilateral visa-free « friends circle » has expanded to 50 countries. The National Immigration Administration predicts that during the 2026 Spring Festival holiday, the average daily number of travelers at national ports will exceed 2.05 million, a 14.1% increase year-on-year.

British tourist Joseph, benefiting from the visa exemption policy, said with a smile: « Enjoying the visa-free policy, learning to ‘Becoming Chinese,’ and celebrating the most authentic Spring Festival — I feel very satisfied. »

The Real China: Breaking Stereotypes

When American internet celebrity IShowSpeed livestreamed on Chinese streets, his experiences with mobile payments, seamless streaming on high-speed rail, and interactions with square-dancing grandmas garnered tens of millions of views. Algorithms push this immediacy and freshness of a « first-person perspective experience » globally, helping to somewhat reduce the initial gap in cross-cultural contact.

The comments sections under these videos often turn into squares of collective reflection, with « This is completely different from what Western media portrays » becoming a frequent exclamation. From « watching » to « experiencing » to « imitating, » a deepening cycle of emotion and action is formed.

The « China Shopping » Boom

According to Ministry of Commerce data, 13,000 tax-refund stores are well-stocked with various high-quality products. Foreign friends shopping in China can effectively enjoy an additional 10% discount. In January 2026, Beijing Capital Airport Customs processed 7,966 tax refund applications for travelers, totaling approximately 125 million yuan, a year-on-year increase of 469.81% and 43.68%, respectively.

Brazilian tourist Lira William said: « The shopping experience during my trip to China was fantastic! Digital products and Chinese ‘pop toys’  are novel and affordable. »

Conclusion: The « Everyday Life Turn » of Cultural Soft Power

When we peel back the surface of this vibrant imitation trend, we get in touch with a more profound global socio-psychological shift and a structural transformation in communicative power.

First, this is a fundamental transformation in the paradigm of cultural communication. A shift from showcasing awe-inspiring « miracles » to sharing relatable « daily life »; from exporting iconic « symbols » to offering referential « life solutions. » The gentle power of culture grows not only from the soil of economics and politics but is also deeply rooted in whether it can offer the world a tangible, practicable, and beautiful imagination of ordinary life that can be embraced.

Second, this is a victory for spontaneous people-to-people dialogue. This imitation game, originating on screens, has long surpassed the surface level of novelty and entertainment. It is the historic confluence of social media technology, the contemporary appeal of Chinese lifestyle values, and spontaneous cross-cultural dialogue in the era of globalization.

Third, this is a micro manifestation of cultural confidence. China has never imposed its lifestyle or culture on others. Instead, with an open and inclusive mindset, it presents itself objectively to foreign publics and engages in sincere interaction. Behind this attitude lies growing cultural confidence.

As Sherry Zhu said: « I’m still the same me. I think it’s less that my video went viral, and more that Chinese culture went viral. »

In the future, as « lifestyle diplomacy » deepens, we have reason to expect a more three-dimensional, warm, and harmonious image of China taking root in the hearts of people worldwide. This global dance that began with imitation may ultimately lead to a more profound exchange of values and dialogue among civilizations.

Written by Yajuan Liu

TikTok link: https://www.tiktok.com/@brandongonezshow/video/7595359203699526923

“Sorcières”: a new lecture of History at the Château des Ducs

Arts visuels, Nantes Culture, Réflexions

If you thought witches are only good for scaring children in Grimm tales or making brooms fly in Harry Potter, it is time to review your classics. Until June 28, 2026, the Château des Ducs de Bretagne in Nantes invites us to a dizzying dive into one of the darkest and most fascinating periods of our history with the event exhibition: “Sorcières” (Witches). Get rid of the image of the witch with a hooked nose. This exhibition is serious, and pure history, but served with an immersive scenography. Before rushing into the Nantes dungeon, let’s take a moment to dust off our grimoires, and really understand all the historic veracity behind the word “Sorcière”. 

Antiquity, or the golden age of sorceresses 

In Antiquity, the female figure linked to magic is not necessarily evil, it is ambivalent. Think of Circe or Medea. Sure, it was not good to cross their path if you had the misfortune of upsetting them, but they embodied a form of power and knowledge. They were the mistresses of thresholds, the ones who knew the virtues of plants (the pharmakeia), the lunar cycles, and the secrets of life and death. Magic was an integral part of the cosmos; it was feared as much as it was respected. The woman « who knows » was not yet the woman « who is burned ».

The Middle Ages and the great misunderstanding 

Contrary to a tenacious legend, the Middle Ages was not the golden age of the stakes. For long centuries, the Church even considered the belief in witchcraft as a… pagan superstition. The Canon Episcopi (a text of canon law from the 10th century) stated that it was illusory to believe that women could fly at night with the goddess Diana. At that time, the Church worried more about heresies (Cathars, Waldensians) who challenged its theological dogma than about countryside healers. However, the wind turned insidiously at the end of the medieval period. Successive crises (black plague, The Hundred Year’s War, famines…) create a fertile ground for anxiety. Society needs guilty persons. The Devil, until then a theological figure, invites himself into daily life. People start to whisper that the misfortunes of the times are not divine punishments, but the work of the devil himself. The shift happens: popular magic becomes learned demonology.

The Renaissance, or the retreat of women’s rights 

Paradoxically, it is during the Renaissance, the era of humanism and discovery, that the witch hunt explodes. The 16th and 17th centuries are the true centuries of the stakes. This is precisely what makes the period so disturbing: at the very moment when European thought was celebrating Reason, championing the individual, and redrawing the boundaries of science and philosophy, it was also burning women by the thousands. How to explain such a contradiction? In the background, the same intellectual revolution that gave rise to Erasmus and Leonardo da Vinci also created a brutal system for controlling female bodies. The Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches), written in 1487 by the Dominican inquisitors Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger, was made widely available thanks to the printing press, which is hailed as the great means of advancement and knowledge dissemination. This guide to the ideal inquisitor explains in great detail why women are more likely to make a deal with the Devil by nature: they are morally unstable, intellectually weaker, and carnally insatiable. The book is reprinted numerous times and becomes a bestseller throughout Europe. A collective psychosis is about to begin. Acts are no longer judged, but nature is. It’s already suspicious to be a woman. There is a structural explanation for this paradox: significant social change also occurred during the Renaissance. Strong fears were brought on by the rise of centralized states, the redistribution of economic power, and the Reformation’s upheavals. Widows, healers, and elderly women living alone were examples of women who lived outside of male authority and became the lightning rods of a society in crisis. The role of the midwife and the herbalist, those wise women who had for centuries held knowledge of the body, was directly threatened by the very advancement of medicine, which tried to prove its authority over bodies and healing practices. Additionally, persecuting them weakened the legitimacy of their knowledge and seize it for the benefit of an institutional, lettered, male-only science. For tens of thousands of them, it did not end well. The German-speaking territories, Scotland, and Lorraine, characterized by political division and fierce religious battles between Catholics and Protestants, were where the stakes burned the highest. The witch hunt was not exclusive to the Inquisition; Protestant magistrates and secular tribunals also participated in it. Fear, local criticism, and the systematic use of torture to coerce confessions that implicated other accused were the main causes of this social phenomenon, not a religious anomaly. In a deadly spiral, each trial led to more.

Nowadays, the witch reinvents herself 

The return of the witch is rooted in a rigorous intellectual and militant approach, far from being merely a fashion effect or a « witchy » aesthetic trend for social media. The figure has been resurrected as a symbol of opposition to patriarchy since the 1970s, thanks to movements like W.I.T.C.H. (Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell) in the US and Xavière Gauthier’s magazine Sorcières in France. The contemporary witch is the one who liberates herself rather than the one who submits. She is the embodiment of the woman who defies male authority, lives on the periphery of familial conventions (marriage, pregnancy), and asserts complete control over her body and mind. This is by no means a surface-level reappropriation. Since the 2010s, it has permeated popular culture, literature, and even spirituality, extending far beyond feminist circles. Best-selling books, TV shows, and social media aesthetics now frequently feature characters like the witch, sorceress, or wise woman, but beneath this prominence is a much darker undertone. Many women now use the term « witch » to describe a real-life experience of being seen as too talkative, too self-reliant, too intelligent, or just too « other » to conform to social norms. Reclaiming the word means reclaiming the history of everyone who was silenced. This revival has been greatly aided by the theoretical writings of essayists such as Silvia Federici (Caliban and the Witch, 2004) and Mona Chollet (In Defense of Witches, 2019). Federici in particular presents a radical argument: the witch hunt was a foundational instrument of emerging capitalism rather than a historical accident or a symptom of religious fanaticism. The persecutions effectively destroyed a whole social fabric that opposed the new economic order by deliberately targeting women who possessed reproductive knowledge, engaged in communal healing, and upheld ties of solidarity outside of the market economy. According to this interpretation, burning the witch also meant destroying a society where women had real power in their communities, bodies were not commodities, and knowledge was shared. In a much wider sense, the witch now represents subversive female power. She is called upon in eco-feminist movements, which connect women’s subjugation to the devastation of the natural world. The same reasoning that allowed the exploitation of the female body, turning it into a resource for reproduction, also allowed the exploitation of the earth, turning it into a raw material. The witch becomes the symbolic ancestor of those who today oppose extractive capitalism and advocate for a different relationship between humanity and its environment because she upheld a profound, respectful, and living knowledge of the natural world. Thus, identifying as a « witch » in the twenty-first century is a claim to a history of disobedience. It affirms the ability to act (empowerment) in the face of conventional demands for youth, beauty, and submissiveness. It is turning a historical slur into a symbol of liberation. The witch continues to be a highly political figure in a society that still punishes women for knowing too much or making too many demands. She serves as a reminder that the persecution of the past was a system rather than an anomaly and that vigilance is still necessary.

The Nantes exhibition: a journey between shadows and lights 

To serve this dense subject, the Nantes History Museum has deployed a museography that avoids the pitfall of sensationalism while being profoundly evocative. Immersion is the key word. The visitor wanders between collective imagination and occulted memory. The 180 works gathered are exceptional. We meet engravings by Dürer or Goya, showing how great artists participated in the visual construction of the witch myth (old, ugly, surrounded by monstrous creatures). We discover objects of popular protection (amulets, talismans) which testify to an omnipresent magical thinking. Multimedia devices punctuate the visit: animated maps allow us to visualize the contagion of trials across Europe (the « Catholic backbone » but also Protestant lands were touched). The sound design creates an atmosphere that is sometimes oppressive, reminding us that we are walking on the ashes of a historical tragedy. One does not come out unscathed from the section dedicated to interrogations, where the words of the accused, often extorted, resonate through the centuries. The exhibition puts into perspective the works of historians and essayists, such as Mona Chollet (In Defense of Witches) or Silvia Federici (Caliban and the Witch). This reappropriation is eminently political. It postulates that the witch hunt was not an accident of history, but a founding tool of nascent capitalism, aiming to enslave the female labor force and destroy community solidarities. Today, the witch becomes the archetype of subversive female power. She is summoned in eco-feminist struggles, linking the destruction of nature to the oppression of women. She symbolizes an alternative relationship to the world, based on the knowledge of the living, care, and the refusal of rational and predatory domination. Calling oneself a « witch » in the 21st century is claiming a heritage of disobedience, it is affirming a power to act (empowerment) in the face of normative injunctions of beauty, youth, and docility. It is transforming a historical insult into a banner of freedom.

In summary: should you go? 

Whether you are passionate about history or a convinced feminist, this exhibition is made for you. It is intelligent, beautiful, sometimes hard, but always necessary. We come out a bit shaken, but mostly much less stupid. And who knows, maybe you will discover a modern witch’s soul in yourself when leaving?

Written by Kenya Mézière

Why are iconic french musicals making a comeback on stage today?

Pop culture, Spectacle vivant

Starmania, Notre Dame de Paris, Le Roi Soleil, Roméo et Juliette and soon Mozart, l’opéra rock and? For several years now, the great musicals that have marked generations in France and internationally have been returning to the French stage. 

Throughout the press, the 2025 season was presented as particularly rich for musicals in the capital. Shows multiplied on the bill, to the point that some journalists evoked the possibility of Paris rivaling Broadway. Seeing so many musicals on stage has generated great enthusiasm within the French cultural landscape. And as someone who has been passionate about French musicals since childhood, I too welcome this increased visibility. Yet a certain sense of reserve remains: why are we witnessing the revival of major landmarks of French musicals from the 2000s? 

Presenting this phenomenon as something new would mean ignoring the very history of French musicals. This movement is, in fact, not new: Notre Dame de Paris (2005, 2016, 2023, 2025…), Roméo et Juliette (2010), Starmania (1988, 1992, 2022), La Révolution française (2024), or Les Dix Commandements (2024)… In the same way, French adaptations coming from the West End or Broadway, such as Mamma Mia! (Mogador, Palais des Sports, Casino de Paris, Seine Musicale…), among many others, have been staged successively on Parisian stages. Moreover, some musicals have never truly left the stage, continuing their trajectory and international life, particularly in Asia. Shows such as Mozart, l’opéra rock, Roméo et Juliette, Le Rouge et le Noir, or more recently Molière, le spectacle musical, continue to be performed and adapted.

What raises questions today is therefore not the principle of return or revival itself, but rather their concentration and succession. Indeed, the return of Le Roi Soleil, followed by the announcement of that of Mozart, l’opéra rock, gives the impression of a movement that is accelerating. In a landscape where the production of musicals still relies on an oligopoly, limited number of producers and structures, this raises further questions. 
Should this necessarily be seen as a problem? These revivals allow these productions to live beyond their initial creation, to reach new audiences and new stagings. Without them, an entire generation, including myself, would never have been able to discover Starmania on stage.
A broader question therefore arises: within this dynamic of revivals, how much room is left for the emergence of new works in the French musicals model?

© 2026 Le Roi Soleil • Décibels Productions 

Notre-Dame de Paris, official poster of the show of Luc Plamondon et Richard Cocciante (© NDP Project)

Image credit: visual taken from the program of Le Roi Soleil evoking the return of Mozart, l’Opéra Rock, shared by Marine Level on social media.

To better understand this phenomenon, it is necessary to look back at the role musicals played in France in the 2000s. Indeed, if musicals may appear today as a genre that is sometimes poorly regarded or even dismissed in France, this has not always been the case. It is enough to recall the early 2000s, when musicals were major successes driven by hit songs. Many of these productions are now regarded as emblematic works of French culture and heritage.

These emblematic productions are described by the researcher and specialist in French musical theatre, Bernard Jeannot Guérin, as forms of industrial production, belonging to an era of “producer-led shows” (“spectacles de producteurs”). This era corresponds to a moment in which the genre stabilized around a star system, the creation of hit songs, and a production logic closely tied to the record industry. Musicals from this period were not conceived solely as stage performances, but as global projects. It involved stakes that go beyond theatrical performance alone and carried the expectations of a wide range of stakeholders (Bernard Jeannot Guérin, 2019).
“Belle”, “Les Rois du Monde”, “L’Assassymphonie”, “L’Envie d’aimer”… These songs are not merely derived from musicals. They became genuine hits, circulating widely on radio and television independently of the shows from which they originated. 
To give a few figures, “Les Rois du Monde” from the musical Roméo et Juliette remained number one for 17 weeks and stayed in the Top 100 for 39 weeks, selling 1.500.000 copies in France. These hits have become embedded in French popular culture to the point that one could know the songs without knowing the musical.

Image credit: « Les Rois du Monde », single from the musical Roméo et Juliette (© Dove Attia / Gérard Presgurvic)

These successes of the 2000s undoubtedly explain why these musicals are returning today. But beyond nostalgia, what does this wave of revivals actually produce? The current success of these revivals is undeniable. Enthusiasm is visible both in theaters and on social media. The reception of Le Roi Soleil and the announcement of Roméo et Juliette testify the shared excitement surrounding these returns.
The aim here is not to judge whether these returns are good or bad, but to understand what they concretely generate within the landscape of French musical theatre.

On the one hand, within this movement, the main concern is not so much the commercial nature of musical theatre, but the way it is expressed today. Musicals are designed to reach a wide audience and fill venues. This is also the very purpose of live performance: to be heard, seen, and shared. Historically, strategies such as hit songs or the star system, have supported the circulation and sales that characterized the industrial era of French musical theatre. Producers can hardly be blamed for seeking to fill theatres and ensure the success of their production through this revival strategy.
The issue rather lies in the growing dominance of a logic of risk management, which seems to be imposed at the expense of creation and innovation. This shift occurs in a context of crisis affecting the sector and, more broadly, the economy. The repeated recourse to revivals is not specific to musical theatre. It fits into a broader logic and is particularly characteristic of cinema. Cultural production is marked by a high degree of uncertainty: no one can predict success in advance, and each work is a gamble. Faced with this structural risk, cultural industries have developed risk-management strategies, which in cinema take the form of franchises, remakes, sequels, and reboots. The idea is to limit the economic uncertainty inherent in cultural production.
When transposed to the field of musical theatre, this can also be understood as a form of security for audiences. By already knowing these shows, audiences have a clearer sense of what to expect and therefore take fewer risks in their choices of cultural outings. This occurs in a context where musicals are costly and inflation weighs on household spending, particularly on cultural experiences.
This convergence of expectations nevertheless raises a central question: will French musicals become part of a model in which the pursuit of economic guarantees comes at the expense of creation? This is where my main frustration lies. I want to walk into a theatre and be surprised by an original story, discover new songs, and rediscover that sense of amazement in front of a new show. Of course, it would be illusory to claim that creation has disappeared: new shows are still being produced, but what concerns me more is the growing tendency for revivals establishing themselves as the norm.

On the other hand, it would be reductive to claim that all revivals produce exactly the same effects. Some, on the contrary, manage to offer genuine artistic reinterpretations. To cite just one: Starmania in Thomas Jolly’s version is undoubtedly the strongest counterexample to my previous argument. Far from a simple reconstruction, the staging succeeds in proposing a true artistic re-reading, through adaptation and a new stage direction that firmly anchors the work in the present. Conversely, other revivals leave a far more mixed impression. When productions seek to reproduce almost identically the original shows that were once immense successes, comparison with the original becomes inevitable. This often results in more modest sets, simplified costumes, reduced casts, and an excessive reliance on screens. 
These elements can sometimes give the impression of a trade-off between financial deficits and artistic deficits. 

These revivals are not necessarily problematic in themselves. Bringing a show back to the stage also makes it possible to pass it on to new generations. It also allows audiences who did not experience it at the time of its creation the opportunity to encounter major works. Moreover, revivals may appear controversial mainly to French audiences, for whom they have not traditionally been the norm.
If we look at Broadway or the West End, the revival of a show constitutes a norm, a structural practice of musical theatre. For example, during the 2024-2025 Broadway season, of the 43 new productions that opened, 10 were revivals (5 musicals and 5 plays), representing nearly a quarter of all new openings. Similar proportions can also be observed in the previous season. This regular presence of revivals in theatre programs is far from marginal and instead forms part of the normal production cycle. This can be illustrated by West Side Story, which has been revived on Broadway multiple times between 1957 and 2020.
In London, the practice of revivals is also part of the standard functioning of the West End. Several landmark musicals have been performed without interruption for decades: Les Misérables since 1985, The Phantom of the Opera since 1986, and Mamma Mia! since 1999. At the same time, musicals such as Oklahoma!, Gypsy, or Sweeney Todd are regularly revived. Revival here reflects less a deficit of creation than a repertoire-based logic, in which works circulate and evolve in meaning over time.

The difference may lie less in the practices themselves than in how they are perceived. Whereas revivals are seen elsewhere as a legitimate form of continuity, in France they remain associated with the idea of a lack of renewal. Indeed, audiences have gradually become accustomed to a dynamic of creation driven by emblematic producers such as Dove Attia, helping to establish the idea of a constant renewal of the genre.

Image credit: Les Misérables at the West End, London – Yau Ming Low / Shutterstock

In order to conclude, it is worth mentioning that nostalgia does not necessarily imply a return to the exact same form. Indeed, it can also become a point of support for inventing new forms and renewing the audience’s relationship with musical theatre. Some projects fit precisely within this logic, using classic French musicals not as an end in themselves, but as a medium for creation.
This is notably the case with Starmusical, a musical built from classic French musicals and featuring artists from these iconic productions reprising their roles. It constitutes a genuine mise en abyme in which both the narrative and the staging question the very history of the genre. Le spectacle des comédies musicales is another format that draws on classic French musicals, but takes the form of a concert, once again led by major figures of musical theatre. The aim is to keep this music alive and to maintain a connection with this audience.

Image credit: Official poster of Starmusical, promotional visual for the show (© Starmusical)

Image credit: Official poster of the show Les Comédies Musicales (© Les Comédies Musicales)

One question remains open: can nostalgia still function as a creative driving force, or does it now signal the limits of a model in search of renewal?

Written by Caroline Jabre

SOURCES: 

Sovereign Women in History and Art: An Eternal Ideological Stake

Arts visuels, Réflexions

From Cleopatra to Elizabeth I, from Mary Stuart to Marie Antoinette, the names of great sovereign women evoke powerful myths of grandeur, beauty, and tragedy that nourish our imagination. But what remains of reality behind these narratives? Did Marie Antoinette really say, “Let them eat cake”? Was Cleopatra truly the most beautiful woman of the ancient world? History rarely concerns itself with certainties when it comes to queens: first and foremost, they are images, popular fables, and then objects of artistic fascination. The question then arises: can we truly write an objective history of great sovereign women, when their representations are filtered through ideology, the biases of sources, and the power of art?

History and Art as Ideological Construction

Since the 1970s, feminist criticism has shown that the history of art and political history are anything but neutral. In her foundational essay Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists? (1971), Linda Nochlin explains that if women seem absent from dominant narratives, it is not because they did not exist, but because the institutions of memory and knowledge were designed by and for men. Art historians such as Griselda Pollock remind us that women have long been muses and models, rarely creators or active subjects of visual history. Applied to sovereign women, this means that a queen is almost never studied for herself: she is either an ideal or a threat. Art and narratives do not seek to understand who she was, but to fix what she embodied.

This ideological construction is compounded by a concrete obstacle: the scarcity and one-sidedness of sources.

  • For Cleopatra, nearly all accounts come from her Roman adversaries (Plutarch, Dio Cassius), whose aim was to justify Octavian’s war against Mark Antony, officially ending the Roman Republic. Cleopatra as enemy of the Roman Republic helped unite citizens. Propaganda against her allowed Octavian to justify seizing power and removing Mark Antony, who was seen as a traitor to his homeland.
  • For Mary Stuart, chronicles differ depending on whether they come from Protestants (her political opponents) or Catholics (her supporters), in a context of rivalry for the English throne with her cousin Elizabeth I, compounded by religious conflict between Anglicans and Catholics.
  • For Elizabeth I, official portraits were produced as instruments of propaganda: the famous Armada Portrait shows an invincible sovereign, far removed from real political dilemmas. Even when we have direct sources, their reception is biased. The correspondence between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth I reveals respect and even affection. But this female voice has been largely obscured in favor of the Manichaean narrative of a deadly rivalry, a narrative that served military and religious rivalries for the English throne.

Thus, historical objectivity seems illusory, but not entirely out of reach: it requires cross-referencing sources (archives, iconography, archaeological data) and, above all, adopting a critical stance that accepts recognizing areas of uncertainty. Writing the history of sovereign women also means accepting to say: “we do not know.”

The Archetypes Imposed on Sovereign Women

Rather than analyzing queens as complex individuals, historical and artistic narratives have classified them into archetypes. These categories reassure some (men) by simplifying, but distort reality.

Roman propaganda forged the image of Cleopatra as a queen-prostitute, using her charms to seduce Caesar and then Mark Antony in order to retain power. The implicit idea is clear: a woman cannot rule alone, especially not over a power like Egypt.

“By her charms, by her last favors, Cleopatra obtained from Caesar the kingdom and the death of Ptolemy. She was so passionate that she often prostituted herself; so beautiful that many men bought their existence for the favor of one of her nights.” Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus urbis Romae, LXXXVI.

Orientalist art of the 19th century, followed by Hollywood in the blockbuster Cleopatra (1963) with Elizabeth Taylor, amplified this vision: Cleopatra became an object of artistic fantasy, more muse than sovereign. Her beauty and tragic death (suicide by asp bite, according to legend) are central, her political action erased. Yet reality is quite different. Here is a brief but more faithful portrait of the queen: Cleopatra was a polyglot, speaking nine languages, and the only one in her dynasty to learn and speak Egyptian fluently. A skilled diplomat, she managed to stay on the throne (despite coups by her brother, with whom she shared the throne at barely twenty years old) by forming an alliance with Julius Caesar, convincing him that it was better to have Egypt as an ally than as a colony. She was an economic strategist, restoring the value of the tetradrachm (Egyptian currency), whose value had been divided by three under her father’s reign. She innovated by displaying the fiduciary value on the reverse of bronze coins, thus curbing the inflation of bronze relative to silver. Cleopatra also claimed her pharaonic heritage, presenting herself as the embodiment of a cosmopolitan Egypt, changing her name from Cleopatra Thea Philopator (“Cleopatra, goddess who loves her father”) to Thea Neotera Philopatris (“new goddess who loves her homeland”).

Mary Stuart, for her part, embodies the archetype of the martyr queen. A Catholic queen facing a Protestant Scotland, she is seen either as a saintly victim of her faith (beheaded after a botched execution, the executioner having to strike three times) or as a traitor conspiring against England. Stefan Zweig’s literary biography Mary Stuart (1935) feeds this romantic myth: a queen intellectually brilliant, a pupil and muse of Ronsard, a recognized musician, but with a tragic destiny, sacrificed in struggles for power. Behind this image lies a more prosaic reality: a sovereign caught in religious and dynastic struggles, forced to abandon her one-year-old son, whose fate was less chosen than endured.In contrast, Elizabeth I illustrates the archetype of the “un-womanly woman.” To reign, she chose to marry herself symbolically to her kingdom and to embody the myth of the “Virgin Queen.” This political strategy shocked 16th-century society: to refuse motherhood was to refuse the very essence of femininity according to the mentality of the time. She is credited with numerous love affairs, now almost confirmed, including one with her childhood friend Robert Dudley, presented as the love of her life. This masculinization fuels rumors: some claim she was not really a woman. Articles (such as La vérité choquante sur le corps d’Élisabeth Ire que la famille royale a tenté d’effacer., on an unreliable site) present unverified hypotheses as top-secret royal facts just revealed to the public, and give into the sensational.

Portrait of Elizabeth I of England, the Armada Portrait, Anonymous, circa 1588, oil on panel, 110,5×127 cm, Woburn Abbey.

In France, Catherine de Medici is portrayed as a virago, manipulative and cruel, held responsible for the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre. A woman who loved her husband, who preferred her Diane de Poitiers, she was the queen mother who ruled in place of her three sons, who died one after the other without issue. A devotee of astrology, a science very much in vogue at the time, she was accused of frequently resorting to black magic and the services of Nostradamus. When a woman wields power, it must be explained: either she is not a “real” woman, or she derives her power from black magic.

Finally, Marie Antoinette embodies the archetype of the frivolous and spendthrift queen. Nicknamed “Madame Deficit,” she crystallizes popular hatred. Her supposed frivolity is summed up in the famous phrase “If they have no bread, let them eat cake” during the Women’s March on Versailles—a phrase she never actually uttered. Yet history reveals another facet: a young woman sent as a teenager to a foreign court, a patron of the arts, a mother devoted to her children. Her personal expenses were modest compared to the kingdom’s structural debts, but the archetype of a frivolous and guilty queen was more politically effective in the revolutionary context.

Attempts at Control and Contemporary Reception 

Some sovereign women tried to control their image. Elizabeth I, through her official portraits (Rainbow Portrait, Armada Portrait), projected an image of power and chastity (which she was forced to reaffirm in the face of her detractors). Isabella of Castile based her legitimacy on piety and Spanish unity—a valued register during the Reconquista (1492, reconquest and reunification of Spain against the Byzantine Empire). Christina of Sweden, finally, blurred the lines by voluntarily abdicating and reinventing herself as a European intellectual during the Enlightenment, writing her memoirs to shape her posterity. But these strategies are rarely entirely effective: public opinion and art reinterpret according to the narrative serving best the country, with a hint of sexism in the process.Art does not seek to tell the truth or bear witness to historical reality, but to produce images. Paintings, sculptures, and then films fix archetypes. The danger arises when these visual myths are taken for truths. Hollywood is a striking example: Cleopatra (1963) or Mary Queen of Scots (2018) emphasize glamour and romance, reducing queens to love intrigues and spectacular dramas (in the Latin sense: things to be seen). Their image is all the more cinematic because both queens met tragic ends: Cleopatra committed suicide in 30 BCE following the defeat at Actium, to avoid becoming a war trophy of the Roman army; Mary Stuart, condemned to death for treason, saw her executioner take three attempts to succeed in beheading her.

Poster of the Cleopatra movie, 1963, after Howard Terpning, public domain.

Recent academic research seeks to correct these biases. Historians such as Stacy Schiff (Cleopatra: A Life, 2010), Olivier Gaudrfroy (Cléopâtre l’immortelle, de l’Histoire à la légende, 2017), or specialists like R. Knecht (on Catherine de Medici) offer portraits stripped of clichés. We rediscover Cleopatra the strategist, Catherine de Medici the patron, Marie Antoinette the political figure. However, the problem persists. Contemporary female politicians are subject to similar mechanisms: Hillary Clinton is judged too harsh, Ségolène Royal is criticized for her dresses, Angela Merkel is reduced to her coldness. Moreover, women are regularly referred to by their first name, unlike their male counterparts, who are referred to by their surname (Kamala vs. Trump, for example).

Yesterday as today, female power continues to be perceived through and sometimes reduced to archetypes and sexist formulations.

Cleopatra, Mary Stuart, Elizabeth I, Marie Antoinette: all have been reduced to archetypes, the seductress, the victim, the virago, the frivolous woman, rather than being considered as complex individuals. If you wish to discover lesser-known queens, you can look into Zenobia of Palmyra or Boudicca, queens who opposed the Roman Empire, though we have little reliable (non-Roman) information about them.

Can we achieve total objectivity? Probably not, but we can approach it by cross-referencing sources, adopting a critical and gendered reading, and accepting the gray areas of history. Our contemporary responsibility is to distinguish between myth and historical reality and to ask ourselves, finally: in our media and current representations, do we draw a faithful mirror of women in power, or do we simply manufacture new myths ?

Written by Nine Letourmy

22nd Longueur d’Ondes Festival : Radio, Podcasts & Sound Innovation

Musique, Réflexions, Spectacle vivant

From January 28 to February 1, the 22nd edition of the Longueur d’Ondes Festival, the “Festival of Radio and Listening,” took place in Brest. Since 2002, this event has been organized by four friends passionate about radio and sound expression: Laurent Le Gall, Aurore Troffigué, Laurent Venneuguès, and Hélène Vidaling. Over nearly five days, French-speaking radio professionals, journalists, authors, listeners, and radio enthusiasts of all kinds gathered at Brest’s national stage, Le Quartz, to participate in roundtables, conferences, workshops, and live-recorded broadcasts.

The program for this year’s edition revolved around three main themes: “Defending Public and Independent Media,” “In the Name of Feminist Struggles,” and “Cherishing Listening.” Every evening, between the festival’s intense days, attendees could also enjoy numerous shows and concerts organized alongside the festival, blending the auditory experience with broader cultural events.

But one might ask, why is a festival of such renown held in Brest? The answer lies in the city’s historical and ongoing relationship with radio. Brest is unanimously considered a “radio city,” thanks to its rich history and exceptional associative dynamics in the field of radio. Since the liberalization of the airwaves in 1981, several pioneering free radio stations emerged in the city, including Radio Neptune (1982) and Fréquence Mutine (1982). These stations established a model of local, alternative, and engaged radio. Alongside them, RCF Rivages (1992) and Radio U (2001) have contributed to a diverse radio landscape where associative stations collaborate rather than compete, united by a shared ethos: Brest.

Picture of Brest during the Festival

The Key Role of Associative Radios in Sound Creation

Until 1970, the ORTF (Office de Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française) held a monopoly over all radio broadcasting in France. Following the social upheavals of 1968, a number of pirate radio stations, often popular and illegal, began spreading beyond Paris. These small, independent stations laid the groundwork for a new type of radio, one closer to its community, freer in content, and experimental in format.

In 1981, under the presidency of François Mitterrand, these stations were legalized, provided they adhered to certain requirements that offered protection for artistic creation. Today, there are approximately 600 associative radio stations in metropolitan France and 130 in overseas territories. They collectively attract around one million daily listeners, each tuning in for about an hour. By contrast, Radio France reaches seven million listeners for two hours of listening on average.

However, these associative radios are increasingly forced to fight to maintain editorial independence. Funding from the FSER (Fonds de Soutien à l’Expression Radiophonique) has been diminishing, placing vital local stations in jeopardy. Stations such as Radio Campus Paris, Radio Grenouille in Marseille, or Jet FM in Nantes, staffed by a few salaried employees and around a hundred volunteers, and financed 80% through public subsidies, risk disappearing if these reductions continue. Beyond their informational role, associative radios serve as critical training grounds for French radio professionals. Many current Radio France employees began their careers in these community-driven environments, learning the craft in a way large public broadcasters rarely allow.

Thus, associative radios are not only engines of local culture and artistic creation but also incubators of the next generation of media professionals, fostering innovation, experimentation, and diversity in a media landscape that often risks homogenization.

Picture of one of the first free radio stations

Copyright Issues for Podcast Creators

The festival also served as an important forum for discussing copyright challenges in the evolving podcast sector. As with the BIS (Biennales Internationales du Spectacle Vivant) in Nantes, the Longueur d’Ondes Festival highlighted the urgent need to adapt copyright law to new cultural formats, particularly independent podcasts.

Podcasting, a relatively recent and rapidly growing medium, now encompasses nearly 100,000 independent series and 100 million individual podcasts worldwide. These productions often explore topics overlooked by traditional radio, offering listeners a fresh and immersive experience. Yet the legal framework surrounding podcast creators remains minimal. Questions abound: should funding responsibilities fall under the CNM (Centre National de la Musique) or the CNC (Centre National du Cinéma et de l’image animée)? The ambiguity hampers both creators’ protections and opportunities for support.In response, representatives from the IGAC (Institut Général des Affaires Culturelles), the SCAM (Société Civile des Auteurs Multimédia), the PIA (Pôle Innovation Audiovisuelle), ARCOM, and Radio France convened in a roundtable titled “The Sound Work: The Overlooked Aspect of the Cultural Sector.” They recognized that the podcast industry remains the only cultural sector not systematically subsidized, aside from a few small grants. An agreement was nevertheless reached between Radio France and the PIA, aiming to promote independent PIA podcasts on the Radio France platform and ensure proper remuneration, contrasting with platforms such as Spotify or Deezer, which often undercompensate creators.

This dialogue marks the beginning of a larger legislative initiative. The goal is to create a sound creation ecosystem modeled on audiovisual frameworks, defining authors, co-authors, and regulations that protect creative rights and eventually integrate into the SMA (Services Media Audiovisuels) directive. By establishing clear protections for podcast creators, the industry moves closer to a sustainable and equitable model, legitimizing podcasts as a vital cultural and professional medium.

Podcasts as Political Influencers

The 22nd edition of the festival also explored the growing political influence of podcasts, particularly evident during the 2024 U.S. presidential elections. One conference featured a journalist specializing in American politics, who noted that many U.S. citizens no longer relied on traditional TV news channels like Fox News. Instead, they increasingly turned to podcasts, including shows hosted by Andrew Tate, which attracted up to twelve million listeners during the election period.

What astonished observers was the format itself: three hours of daily, unscripted content in which podcasters shared opinions “as they came to mind.” Unlike conventional media, these programs offered no structured debate or editorial counterpoints, creating what the journalist described as a “form of shouting broadcast,” unfiltered and often polarizing.

This shift toward podcasts correlates with a historical regulatory change. In 1987, the Reagan administration abolished the Fairness Doctrine, which had required U.S. broadcasters to provide balanced and diverse content on local and federal channels. Without this regulation, citizens increasingly sought alternative sources of information, with podcasts emerging as a primary vehicle for unmediated political discourse. The implications are profound, not only for the media industry but also for democratic engagement and information literacy, highlighting the capacity of audio media to shape public opinion in ways that traditional outlets increasingly cannot.

Challenges Facing Public Broadcasting

Finally, the festival addressed ongoing challenges to public broadcasting, notably the Cohen-Legrand affair, discussed in the presence of Thomas Legrand, a leading French journalist. Legrand replaced Laurence Bloch, former director of Radio France, who was absent due to her upcoming summons before the Parliamentary Inquiry Commission on public broadcasting neutrality.

Participants discussed the growing scrutiny over the cost and neutrality of public broadcasting, especially since the 2022 elimination of the public broadcasting license fee. Concerns were raised regarding the perceived pressure to maintain “neutrality,” with the commission urging broadcasters to appear politically impartial. Legrand emphasized that neutrality should not be a superficial display, but rather an opportunity to reflect the complexity and diversity of opinions so that every listener can identify with public service content. His remarks underscored that expressing opinions differs depending on the platform: as an editorialist for Libération, he exercises a different voice than when contributing to France Inter, illustrating the nuanced responsibilities of public media professionals.

A female participant also highlighted the ideological stakes in public broadcasting debates. Opposition to public service is increasingly used as a political tool, framed as an electoral argument rather than a financial or operational critique. This underscores how media policy debates can become entangled with broader ideological battles, reflecting shifts in public discourse, political strategy, and the very role of media in society.

Picture of Jean Lebrun, Nathalie Sonnac and Thomas Legrand at the Conference about Challenges Facing Public Broadcasting.

Conclusion

The 22nd edition of the Longueur d’Ondes Festival has demonstrated the enduring importance of community-driven dialogue in the French-speaking radio landscape. By bringing together professionals, volunteers, listeners, and enthusiasts, the festival fostered critical reflection on pressing issues: the sustainability and independence of associative radios, the emerging legal and economic structures needed for podcasts, the transformative influence of audio media on political discourse, and the ideological pressures facing public broadcasting.

Beyond simply discussing problems, the festival highlighted solutions: collaborations between public broadcasters and independent podcast networks, legislative efforts to secure creators’ rights, and ongoing advocacy for funding and editorial independence. These conversations are vital, not only for the survival of diverse radio formats but also for nurturing a culture that values listening as much as speaking, creativity as much as consumption, and informed engagement as much as entertainment.

In addition, the festival underscored how media, in its many forms, shapes society, not only by delivering content but by defining how audiences experience, interpret, and interact with the world. From local associative radios to globally influential podcasts, sound media continues to be a conduit for knowledge, debate, and cultural expression. By providing a forum for collaboration, debate, and celebration, the Longueur d’Ondes Festival ensures that the art and craft of listening remain central in a rapidly changing media landscape.

Ultimately, the 22nd edition reaffirmed that radio and audio storytelling are more than just technologies, they are social practices, educational tools, and instruments of democracy. They foster connection, provide platforms for marginalized voices, and offer spaces for experimentation and reflection. As the festival concluded, participants left not only with new ideas and renewed energy but with a shared understanding of the stakes, responsibilities, and possibilities inherent in the world of sound. The conversations, debates, and collaborations sparked during those five days will continue to resonate, echoing far beyond Brest and shaping the future of radio and audio media for years to come.

Written by Judith Laithier

Strike at the Louvre

Arts visuels, Réflexions

Strikers protesting for better work conditions, higher wages and more workers, and against the obsolescence of the building and the LNR Project (© LeParisien LP/Ahmed Benazzouz)

On Monday, February 16, an assembly of more than 200 employees of the Louvre Museum voted to go on strike, making it impossible to fully open the museum. Launched in mid-December, the strike movement at the Louvre has taken on an unprecedented scale over the past few weeks for France’s largest museum institution. On several occasions since December, the museum has been forced to close entirely to the public as a direct result of the mobilisation of a significant share of its workforce. On January 26, several hundred employees gathered in a general assembly at the auditorium voted to renew the strike notice initially filed on December 8 by an inter-union coalition bringing together CFDT, CGT and SUD Culture, marking a new phase in what has become a prolonged social conflict.

According to the trade unions, the mobilisation originated in a spontaneous movement by non-unionised staff members in June 2025, accompanied by the drafting of a list of grievances that, in their view, received no adequate response from management. The jewellery theft that occurred in October 2025 is described as a further shock to the institution’s social fabric, as it exposed long-standing shortcomings in security, investment priorities and staffing management. Since then, the inter-union group says it has been closely monitoring the conflict, consulting employees every week on whether to continue the strike. The participation of staff from the Denon wing — which houses the Mona Lisa — led to the museum’s complete closure on several occasions, an outcome union representative has described as historic.

The various union statements converge in portraying an institution facing deep structural difficulties. The unions denounce working conditions they consider increasingly degraded, an ageing building whose deterioration has led to repeated technical failures, and a chronic lack of staff. According to them, these constraints result in the daily closure of galleries beyond the forecasts of the guaranteed opening plan, hindered visitor circulation and limited access to the collections, to the point that a visit to the museum has been described as an “obstacle course” by the workers. Internally, staff report a steadily increasing workload, growing tensions in human resources management and contradictory directives that they say are incompatible with the calm exercise of a public service mission.

The social tensions unfolding at the Musée du Louvre also coincide with uncertainty surrounding one of the institution’s most ambitious transformation projects. Scheduled to meet on February 11, the jury of the international architecture competition for the “Louvre–Grande Colonnade” project — part of the broader Louvre–Nouvelle Renaissance plan — ultimately postponed its deliberations to an unspecified later date. Officially justified by the need for further analysis of the proposals, the delay comes amid a series of crises affecting the museum, including security failures, infrastructure damage and ongoing labour disputes. Announced in January 2025 by President Emmanuel Macron, the project aims to redesign the museum’s eastern wing to improve visitor flow and access to the Mona Lisa, with an estimated cost of more than one billion euros. While the museum’s management insists on the project’s strategic importance, trade unions — already mobilised against what they describe as deteriorating working conditions and fragile funding priorities — have openly opposed the redevelopment, arguing that it diverts attention and resources from more urgent issues related to safety, staffing and day-to-day operations. The postponement of the jury meeting has therefore been interpreted by union representatives as a signal of broader instability, reinforcing their criticism of governance choices at a time when the institution is already under strain.

At the heart of the demands are issues related to the institution’s governance, site safety and security, project and pricing policies, the creation of permanent civil service positions, the stabilisation of contract staff, salary increases and the overall improvement of working and visiting conditions. These demands are also part of a broader reflection on the museum’s economic model, a large share of whose budget now relies on its own revenues, fuelling, according to the unions, tensions between financial imperatives and staff working conditions.

Asked about the situation, Culture Minister Rachida Dati publicly acknowledged on January 13, during an interview on Europe 1, the existence of a “governance problem” at the head of the institution, while announcing forthcoming decisions without specifying their nature. Despite several rounds of negotiations with management and supervisory authorities, the unions believe that the responses provided so far remain insufficient. Staff members, who say they are deeply attached to the Louvre, now describe their mobilisation as a major warning about the future of the institution’s social and cultural model and, more broadly, that of France’s major public cultural institutions.

On Tuesday, January 28, 2025, Emmanuel Macron announced the future transformation of the Louvre Museum. ©Twitter/©Elysee

The state of public museums in France

Beyond the Louvre alone, the strike movement reflects a broader context of weakening across France’s public museums, which have been facing persistent structural pressure for several years. Staff point to rising workloads, increasingly tight schedules and enforced versatility, often within ageing buildings whose maintenance has been significantly delayed. Deteriorating infrastructure, regularly reported by employees, raises concerns about safety, the preservation of artworks and working conditions alike, while budgetary trade-offs increasingly favour self-generated revenues, high-profile events or profitability at the expense of day-to-day operations.

In this context, pricing policies, the growing number of exceptions and discounts, and pressure to increase visitor capacity are widely perceived by staff as contributing to the erosion of public service quality. These dynamics create a widening gap between the museums’ heritage and educational missions and the resources actually allocated to fulfil them. Added to this are recurring human resources issues: increased reliance on precarious contracts, limited career prospects, declining purchasing power and a widespread feeling of exclusion from strategic decision-making.

The demands set out in union statements — including the creation of permanent positions, salary increases, improved working conditions, recognition of staff expertise and clearer governance — echo a malaise shared across many public cultural institutions. Employees warn of the risk of a gradual erosion of the French museum model as an accessible public service grounded in professional expertise.

This situation can partly be explained by changes in the economic model of public museums, marked by growing dependence on own-source funding such as ticket sales, sponsorship, space rentals and blockbuster exhibitions, at a time when state and local authority funding is stagnating or declining. Under the supervision of the Ministry of Culture, many institutions are encouraged to boost revenues and attendance, resulting in intensified activity without corresponding increases in human or technical resources. For staff, this translates into mounting daily pressure: denser visitor flows, extended opening hours and increased reliance on evening, weekend and public holiday work, often seen as necessary to offset declining purchasing power.

Material working conditions remain another major point of tension. Much of France’s museum heritage is housed in historic buildings requiring heavy and continuous investment to maintain and upgrade. Staff regularly warn of technical failures, safety concerns and spaces ill-suited to mass tourism, all of which complicate their work. These issues affect visitors through partial gallery closures, restricted circulation and degraded visiting conditions, while also exposing staff to heightened risks and a growing sense of lost purpose.

Human resources challenges are equally central to the discontent expressed. The increasing use of contract staff, the multiplication of employment statuses and the precarisation of certain professions undermine service continuity and fuel feelings of inequality within teams. Employees denounce limited career progression, insufficient recognition of their skills and management practices perceived as increasingly top-down, leaving little room for dialogue or consultation. In this context, governance has become a key issue, with unions calling for staff to be more closely involved in strategic decisions shaping the future of museums.

The Louvre Museum with its famous glass pyramid, built between 1985 and 1989 (image libre de droit)

What lies ahead?

The outcome of the conflict at the Louvre, as in other public museums, will largely depend on the ability of public authorities and institutional leadership to translate widely shared diagnoses into structural decisions. In the short term, targeted measures — temporary staff reinforcements, budgetary shifts in favour of safety and maintenance, and commitments on certain pay demands — could help ease tensions and restore more stable operations. However, without a long-term strategy, such measures risk falling short of addressing the depth of the problems identified.

In the medium term, the economic and social model of major public museums appears to be a central issue. The growing reliance on own revenues and mass attendance, often framed as unavoidable, could be reassessed in light of its impact on working conditions, conservation standards and the quality of visitor reception. A redefinition of priorities — refocusing on core public service missions, sustained investment in buildings and staff, and a better alignment between cultural ambitions and available resources — is one scenario frequently discussed by sector stakeholders.

Change may also require a renewal of governance practices. Recent social movements reveal strong expectations for greater recognition of staff expertise and for more meaningful social dialogue upstream of major strategic decisions. Closer staff involvement in shaping institutional choices could help rebuild trust and prevent recurring crises, while ensuring that stated objectives better reflect on-the-ground realities.

Finally, beyond the Louvre itself, these mobilisations may influence broader national cultural policy orientations. Under the authority of the Ministry of Culture, the State faces the challenge of clarifying its role and level of commitment in financing and regulating major heritage institutions. Without structural responses, social conflicts may multiply, turning such movements into lasting warning signals about the sustainability of the French cultural model. Conversely, a clear policy shift could open the way to a more balanced equilibrium between international prestige, accessibility and working conditions.

The debates raised by the strike at the Louvre Museum, and by similar movements in other institutions, go beyond the social dimension alone. They raise questions about the very future of cultural policy in France. As several observers point out, persistent underinvestment in public museums, combined with growing reliance on their own revenues, could gradually weaken their ability to fulfil their public service missions. In the long run, the preservation, study and transmission of cultural heritage could increasingly fall to private actors, foundations or institutions whose operations are shaped by profitability requirements, sponsorship strategies or audience-driven objectives.

Private museums and independent cultural initiatives undoubtedly contribute to enriching and diversifying the cultural landscape. However, their goals do not necessarily align with the long-term imperatives of conservation, research and universal access. Public museums have historically played a central role in preserving collections regardless of their immediate appeal, ensuring affordable access to knowledge and maintaining scholarly independence from commercial pressures. The concerns expressed by museum staff therefore resonate as a warning signal: that heritage management could gradually shift towards a market-driven logic.

Ultimately, the current mobilisations can also be read as a call to reaffirm public responsibility for cultural preservation at a time when the balance between public service and economic constraints appears more fragile than ever.

Written by Gabriel Maget

Sources:
CGT Etat : « Caisse de grève pour les agent·es du musée du Louvre (Intersyndicale Culture) »
Cfdt : « Les salariés du Louvre en grève pour leurs conditions de travail »
France info : « Nouvelle journée de grève au musée du Louvre, qui n’ouvre que partiellement »
Le Monde : « Grève au Louvre : nouvelle journée de mobilisation, le musée n’est que partiellement ouvert ce lundi »
Connaissance des arts : « Louvre : entre crises à répétition et polémiques, nouveau coup dur pour le musée et son grand projet de réaménagement à 1,15 milliard d’euros »

European Painting Confronted with the Transition from Polytheism to Monotheism

Arts visuels

For centuries, Europe lived surrounded by visible gods. They had bodies, faces, stories, tempers, desires, and a profoundly human dimension. They inhabited the walls of houses, public squares, temples, and frescoes. Then, gradually, this familiarity with the divine faded. Not through an immediate iconoclastic upheaval, but through a slow shift in which images more than texts carried the trace of a deep transformation: the passage from a polytheistic world to a monotheistic one.

The history of European painting can be read as the silent narrative of this transformation. It tells how the sacred moved from body to sign, from presence to absence, from multiplicity to unity. Above all, it reveals how the image, far from being abolished, had to learn to express differently what it could no longer show directly. Painting thus became a fragile, sometimes contradictory space, where the balance is negotiated between what can be seen, what must be believed, and what can be shown.

The Age of Visible Gods

Vénus d’Arles, Inconnu (Sculpture antique romaine, Ier siècle av. J.-C., probablement d’après un original grec de Praxitèle) Musée du Louvre, Paris, Domaine Public

« Le Lararium de la Maison des Vettii« , Inconnu (Artiste romain, Ier siècle après J.-C.), Parc Archéologique de Pompéi, Domaine Public

In Greek and Roman antiquity, the relationship to the divine was above all visual. The gods were not abstract entities: they were recognizable, embodied, almost familiar. They shared the world of humans and reflected what we ourselves are our passions, our excesses, our desires. Painting and sculpture were not theological problems; they were cultural certainties, natural extensions of myth.

Figures such as Apollo, Aphrodite, or Zeus were not abstract symbols, but identifiable presences endowed with narratives, attributes, and specific functions. The image made it possible to recognize the god, to invoke them, and sometimes even to contain them symbolically. Mythological frescoes, far from being merely decorative, participated in a daily relationship with the sacred.

In Pompeii, the walls reveal a striking intimacy between humans and divinities. Gods appear in atriums, painted gardens, bedrooms, kitchens. They are not confined to temples; they coexist with domestic life. This proximity reflects a worldview in which the sacred is never radically separated from the profane.

Formally, this vision translates into a celebration of the body. The divine body is measured, balanced, ideal. It embodies a cosmic order as much as an aesthetic ideal. To represent a god is to affirm that the world is intelligible, that the divine accepts a human form. Here, to see is to believe.

The Emergence of the Invisible God

« Le Bon Pasteur« , Sculpteur Paléochrétien Inconnu (IVe siècle), Musée Pio Cristiano, Domaine Public

With the rise of Christianity, something fractures in the visual certainty inherited from Antiquity. This is not an immediate rupture, nor a brutal destruction of earlier images, but a long period of disturbance, doubt, and profound re-evaluation of the gaze. Where ancient gods offered themselves freely to sight, the Christian God introduces a radical distance. He is not one being among others: He is unique, absolute, transcendent. He cannot be circumscribed by form or enclosed within an image without the risk of betrayal.

This theological novelty gives rise to what might be called a foundational crisis of the image in European culture. For the first time, seeing becomes a problem. Looking can become a fault. The image once a site of the sacred’s presence suddenly becomes ambiguous.

Christianity inherits an ancient suspicion toward figurative representation, rooted in the biblical prohibition of idols. “You shall not make for yourself a graven image”: this commandment weighs heavily on the early centuries of Christianity. The issue is not merely to avoid certain images, but to rethink their legitimacy altogether. The image becomes a dangerous, unstable territory, poised between permission and prohibition. It can divert faith, fix the invisible, replace God with His appearance. It can become an object of worship in itself precisely what Christianity seeks to prevent.

In this context, painting is no longer an obvious or decorative act. It becomes an act laden with spiritual responsibility, almost a risk. Every form, every figure, every iconographic choice implies a theological position. The artist or more often the anonymous artisan no longer invents freely; they search, hesitate, and proceed with caution.

The earliest Christian images bear witness to this profound hesitation. They often seem to speak in a whisper. In the Roman catacombs, Christ is rarely represented directly. When He does appear, it is not as a glorious god or an idealized body, but through indirect, metaphorical, almost effaced forms. The Good Shepherd borrowed from rural imagery and late antiquity suggests a presence without fixing it. The fish, the vine, the anchor function as discreet signs, intelligible only to the initiated.

This symbolic language is not merely an aesthetic choice; it is a strategy for the survival of the image. It allows a message to be transmitted, teaching to occur, a community to be formed, while respecting divine transcendence. The image becomes allusive, fragmentary, deliberately incomplete. It does not show Christ; it allows Him to be inferred.

This period is therefore marked by an almost insoluble tension. On the one hand, Christianity needs images in order to spread, to teach a largely illiterate population, to render visible a history founded on incarnation. On the other hand, it must prevent these images from becoming idols. It must show without showing, represent without fixing, make the divine perceptible without betraying it.

This contradiction lies at the heart of the Christian image crisis. The image ceases to be a site of direct incarnation of the sacred and becomes a space of translation, subject to constant vigilance. It is never fully legitimate, never entirely rejected. It exists conditionally watched over by dogma, tolerated more than embraced.

Yet it is precisely in this fragility that the Christian image finds its strength. By renouncing full visibility, it gains new depth. It no longer offers God to sight; it opens a space for reflection, interpretation, and faith. This crisis is therefore not a negative episode in the history of European art, but a foundational moment. It forces the image to rethink itself, to become charged with meaning, to exist as a site of tension between the visible and the invisible.

From this initial hesitation, from this slow search for a possible effigy, the Byzantine icon and later all Western Christian imagery will emerge. Before becoming a stable form, the image of Christ was first an open question.

The Icon: Seeing Without Seeing

“Le Christ Pantocrator du Sinaï”, Anonyme (Style encauste, VIe siècle), Icône du Sinaï – Monastère Sainte-Catherine, Domaine Public

“Vierge à l’Enfant” (dite Madone Stoclet), Duccio di Buoninsegna, The Metropolitan Museum of Art (Met), New York, Domaine Public / OASC

“Le Christ” (Détail de la Mosaïque de la Déisis), Mosaïste Byzantin Anonyme (XIIIe siècle), Hagia Sophia – Sainte-Sophie, Istanbul, Domaine Public

It is in the Byzantine world that this tension between visibility and prohibition finds its most stable and enduring form and also its most decisive one for the history of European art: the icon. Far from definitively resolving the problem of divine representation, the icon organizes it, channels it, and above all makes it transmissible. It accepts the image, but at the cost of a radical transformation of its function, status, and language.

The Byzantine period is crucial because it establishes the first coherent system of representing Christ in European history. Before it, Christian imagery hesitated, circumvented, suggested. With the icon, Christ acquires a stable, reproducible, immediately recognizable face. This face no longer stems from the artist’s free invention; it follows precise canons, transmitted, repeated, almost immutable. For the first time, Europe possesses a standardized image of the divine.

Christ Pantocrator is not a narrative or emotional figure. He tells no story, performs no action. He asserts Himself. His frontal face, fixed gaze, and near-abstract immobility create a radical distance from the viewer. There is no realistic décor, no landscape, no horizon. The gold background abolishes illusionistic depth: there is neither heaven nor earth, only eternity. Christ is not situated within the world; He stands above it.

This choice is not aesthetic in the modern sense it is theological. The icon does not seek to move or seduce. It rejects pathos and direct identification. Where ancient art glorified bodily beauty, Byzantine art sacralizes fixity, frontality, and repetition. Christ’s face becomes a surface for spiritual projection, not an object of sensual fascination.

This discipline of the gaze is essential. The icon does not represent God as He is, which would be impossible but as He can be contemplated and understood without being possessed. It establishes an asymmetrical relationship: it is not the viewer who masters the image, but the image that sustains and returns the gaze. To look at an icon is not to consume an image; it is to accept being looked at in return.

This new visual regime durably grounds Christian iconography. Even when medieval and later Renaissance Western art distances itself from Byzantine style, Christ’s face remains deeply marked by this legacy: persistent frontality, meaningful gaze, spiritual function of the image. Even the Renaissance, despite its naturalism, never fully erases this Byzantine matrix.

Thus, the icon is not a frozen episode in art history; it is a visual infrastructure, a foundation upon which all European Christian imagery is built. It allows the image to survive prohibition, to remain at the heart of worship without becoming an idol, and above all to anchor Christ’s figure permanently in collective memory.

Christian imagery therefore does not disappear; it changes regime. It ceases to be a direct incarnation and becomes a codified mediation. It becomes at once a pedagogical, liturgical, and theological tool. It does not show the divine; it points toward it, tracing a narrow path between the visible and the invisible, between the necessity of the image and the danger of its power.

The Return of the Body: The Renaissance as Compromise

“Le Jugement Dernier”, Michel-Ange, Chapelle Sixtine – Musées du Vatican, Domaine Public

“Vierge à l’Enfant” (ou La Madone Campana), Sandro Botticelli, Musée du Petit Palais (Avignon), Domaine Public

The Renaissance marks a subtle turning point. By rediscovering antiquity, Europe reactivates an ancient visual language based on the body, perspective, and harmony. This return does not occur against Christianity, but within it.

With Michelangelo, the body becomes central once more. Christ regains a physical power reminiscent of ancient heroes. Muscles, torsions, expansive gestures reintroduce a pagan energy within a Christian theological framework.

The Virgin Mary also transforms. She becomes mother, protector, a figure of embodied tenderness. Her representations sometimes borrow from ancient mother-goddess archetypes, without ever explicitly claiming them. Monotheism thus reinvests archaic forms in order to make the sacred once again perceptible.

The Renaissance does not abolish Christian distance; it negotiates it. It accepts that the body can once again become a language of the divine, provided it serves a spiritual purpose.

A Pagan Memory Beneath the Christian Surface

What this long history reveals is that the transition from polytheism to monotheism was never a visual tabula rasa. Forms survive, shift, transform. The image preserves what theology rejects.

Even when religious discourse becomes iconophobic, painting continues to work through the memory of ancient gods. It absorbs their gestures, proportions, and narratives, redistributing them through new figures.

Thus, the history of European painting is not merely that of a change in belief. It is the story of a displacement of the sacred, of a constant effort to make visible what must no longer be shown.

What the Image Still Tells Us Today

When we observe these works, one thing becomes clear: the image never ceases to be a field of tension between faith, power, and the desire to see. Monotheism did not suppress the need for images; it made that need more complex, more ambiguous, more symbolically charged.

Perhaps this is why European art has never stopped dialoguing with the sacred, even when it moves away from it. Behind every Christ, every Virgin, every icon, the faint silhouettes of ancient gods persist.

Painting, in this sense, is less a mirror of faith than a site of cultural memory. It remembers what texts forget. It tells us that gods never disappear entirely, they simply change their faces.

Written by Paul Saoud