Art as Protest: Arachne & Athena

During Arachne and Athena's competition

There’s nothing that the gods hate more than getting humbled. If you’ve read my post on Hyacinthus, you’d know just how severe the consequences of crossing the fine line between piety and hubris are, and it’s no coincidence that these qualities are brought up time and time again in classical fables. Just as love between the divine and mortal is taboo, any attempt to achieve equality was a transgression against the ‘natural order.’ When a mortal dares to point out the obvious injustice of the system, well, it won’t end too well for them. And as much as I love Athena’s character, I must admit that even the goddess of wisdom nevertheless succumbs to one of the most foolish human faults: hypocrisy. 

Ovid’s story goes like this: in a humble Libyan village in a place now known as modern-day Turkey, there lived a girl named Arachne. Arachne was a beautiful girl and the most incredible weaver. Throughout the neighboring villages, Arachne’s name was spoken with silent reverence, not for her lineage or wealth but because of her incredible skill at the loom. It was said that her tapestries were so vivid and lifelike that they virtually buzzed with life, attracting nymphs from all over the mountains and fields of Libya to see her weave. Eventually, rumor held that Arachne’s tapestries could rival even that of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and crafts herself.

Arachne’s fame eventually reached Olympus. Curious, Athena decides to seek her out. Disguised as an old hag, Athena approaches Arachne at her house, where a crowd has gathered to watch her work. “You have a remarkable skill,” she said, “but I warn you—it is unwise to compare your skill to that of a god. Seek praise from your peers, and let the gods have their deserved glory.”

To that, Arachne responded, “Old woman, leave your advice for those who need it. If Athena thinks herself a superior weaver, let her come down and challenge me. I do not fear a contest, even with a goddess.” 

Like that, Athena reveals herself in her true, divine form. “So, you accept my challenge?” said Athena. Arachne was only ever so slightly fazed. Armed with her pride, she boldly accepted.

The two of them began to weave. Even without divine status, Arachne’s skills seemed to nearly parallel that of Athena, who began feeling a creeping sense of worry. Athena worked with a virtually impossible speed and grace, creating a majestic tapestry depicting the glory of the gods. At the center stood an image of Athena in her shining, gold armor, victoriously standing over Poseidon in their fight for the patronage of Athens. Around her extravagant self-portrait, Athena depicted four other scenes. One corner showed an image of Rhodope and Haemus, a vain couple who compared themselves to Zeus and Hera and were turned into mountains. The other corner showed Queen Garana, who compared her beauty to that of Hera’s and was turned into a stork, and another depicted Antigone of Troy, who boasted of her hair and was turned into a crane. The final corner showed King Cinyras of Cyprus crying on the steps of his palace after losing his daughters as punishment for insulting the gods.

Arachne’s tapestry was similarly breathtaking. Unlike Athena, however, Arachne’s tapestry was a bold, uncensored critique of the gods’ many moral failings, displaying their abuses of power, deceitful actions, unrestrained lust, and, most of all, the hypocrisy of the divine. In one scene she wove an image of Zeus transforming himself into a bull to abduct Europa, a swan to attract Leda, a golden shower to seduce Danaë, and an eagle to pursue Asteria. Poseidon appeared as a horse for Demeter, Apollo as a shepherd for Issa, and Dionysus as deceptive grapes to seduce Erigone. All while the gods were drinking, raping, and pleasuring themselves with sex and riches, the mortals down below them were suffering. Not only was her work as beautiful as Athena’s but the vividity and lifelikeness of Arachne’s tapestry made the scenes depicted in them almost come to life, and that only made the gods’ exposed moral failings all the more jarring to the eye. 

When Athena saw Arachne’s work, she felt horrendously insulted, but still she could not take her eyes off it. Arachne’s skills were unquestionably good—maybe even on par with herself—and the scenes, as offensive and disrespectful as they were, had an undeniable truth to them. Of course, she could never admit that Arachne’s work had hurt her pride, so in a fit of rage, Athena cut up Arachne’s tapestry. Seeing her work be destroyed, Arachne felt humiliation wash over her. The shame of losing to Athena ate away at her ego. Terrified, she hung herself.

Perhaps at that moment, Athena felt pity. Maybe she realized that Arachne’s skills were able to parallel hers after all. Maybe she felt genuinely sorry. So, she decided to turn Arachne into a spider, dooming her and all her future descendants to weave for the rest of their lives. Just like that, Arachne, who was once praised for her artistry, became a cautionary tale for all mortal artists that even the most exceptional talent must comply with humility.

Arachne being turned into a spider

As an artist myself, I can’t help but view this story with frustration. Arachne’s fatal flaw was her pride. She believed that she honed her skill entirely by herself, without any influence from the divine. Yet, she was punished for her hard work by a force that she could not possibly control. The winner of the contest was not decided by mortals—they had no right. The overwhelming dominance of one single goddess was enough to destroy the best weaver alive. In many ways, Arachne’s story reflects the experiences of many aspiring artists. In a world where art is supposedly subjective, the minds of self-proclaimed critics and billionaires seem to believe that they have complete jurisdiction over that subjectivity. It’s undoubtedly and hopelessly unfair.

Arachne’s story can be taken also as an allegory for the suppression of protest art. Art holds a uniquely effective authority in methods of activism, and in the past century alone, using art as a means for protest and social commentary has surged. Likewise, Arachne’s tapestry was a symbol of rebellion against divine hypocrisy, and its stifling at the hands of those in power further emphasizes the hegemonic model that governments and authorities use to silence criticism.

As Yannis Samatas claims, “Arachne’s punishment is not simply revenge but an unjust silencing of a dissenting voice, a creative innovator who dared to speak truth to power.” While the Greeks may have understood Arachne as a walking lesson against the moral dangers of mortal hubris, I think of her as a martyr. Sometimes, all we need is a little shift in perspective.

Referencing: Yannis Samatas. "The Myth of Arachne and Athena." greekmyths-greekmythology.com, 20 Feb. 2025. Updated 14 May. 2025, https://www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/myth-arachne-and-athena/.