Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga, originally titled “Tereshichka,” is a whimsical story from a collection of Russian fairy tales published in 1866. The Russian stories were gathered by Aleksandr Afanas’ev, who was considered the Russian counterpart of the Grimm Brothers. Afanas’ev was a lawyer by education and his collection of folklore was instrumental in introducing Russian popular tales to world literature.

In Slavic folklore, Baba Yaga is a boney, iron-toothed witch, with an appetite for human flesh. She flies around in a mortar, prodding it on with a pestle, and sweeping her tracks away with a broom. Baba Yaga dwells in a forest and lives in a hut, which stands on chicken legs. She may hurt or hinder the hero of the story depending on which tale is told.

Baba Yaga 

(Russian Fairy Tale)

An old man and his wife led a miserable existence. They had lived together all of their lives, yet had no children. In their younger days they had managed somehow to struggle along; but now that they were old there was no one to give them drink, and they grieved and lamented. One day they cut a little block of wood, wrapped it in swaddling clothes, put it in a little cradle, and began to rock it and sing lullabies to it; and in place of the block of wood there began to grow in the swaddling clothes a little son, Tereshichka, a real little jewel.

The boy grew and grew and reached the age of reason. His father made him a little boat. Tereshichka went to catch fish and his mother brought him milk and curd cheese. She would go to the shore and call, “Tereshichka, my little son, sail, sail to the little shore; I, your mother, have brought you milk.”

Tereshichka would hear her voice from afar, sail to the shore, pour out his catch of fish, eat and drink, and go back to fish again. One day his mother told him, “My darling little son, be careful, Baba Yaga, the witch is after you; do not fall into her clutches.” Having said this she left.

Baba Yaga came to the shore and called in a terrible voice, “Tereshichka, my little son, sail, sail to the shore; I, your mother, have brought you milk.”

But Tereshichka was not deceived and said, “Sail farther, farther, my little boat! This is not the voice of my dear mother, but that of Baba Yaga, the wicked witch!”

Baba Yaga heard him, ran away, and got herself a voice like that of the little boy’s mother. The witch came back, and chanted in the voice she acquired, exactly like his own mother, “Tereshichka, my little son, sail, sail to the shore; I, your mother, have brought you milk.” Tereshichka was deceived and came close to the shore; she snatched him, put him in a bag, and darted off.

She came to a little hut on chicken legs, told her daughter to roast him, and left to steal other treasure. Tereshichka was not a fool; he did not let the girl hurt him. Instead, he put her to roast in the oven and climbed up a tall oak.

Baba Yaga came back, jumped into the house, ate and drank, went out into the courtyard, rolled and wallowed, and said, “I will roll and wallow, having eaten of the boy’s flesh!” And he cried to her from the oak, “Roll, witch, wallow, witch, having eaten your daughter’s flesh.” She heard him, raised her head, looking in all directions, but there was no one to be seen anywhere!

Again she intoned, “I will roll and wallow, having eaten of the Tereshichka’s flesh!” And he again answered, “Roll, witch, wallow, witch, having eaten your daughter’s flesh.” She took fright, looked up, and saw him in the tall oak.

Baba Yaga clung to the tree and sank her iron teeth into it. She gnawed the trunk and the tree cracked. Gray geese flew from the crack to the sky. Tereshichka saw that he was in trouble, beheld the geese, and began to implore them:

Geese, gray geese, take me with you!

Take me on your wings

To my father, to my mother,

They will give you food and drink.

 “Qua-Qua!” answered the geese. “A little plucked goose is following us, he will take you home!” Meanwhile the witch was gnawing so the splinters flew, and the oak cracked and shook. The witch would bite a while, then look at Tereshichka, lick her lips, and gnaw the tree again; any time now he would fall down. Fortunately, the little plucked goose came, flapped his wings, and Tereshichka implored him.

The little plucked goose pitied him. They flew to the window of his own father’s house and sat on the grass. Meanwhile the old woman had fried pancakes and had invited guests, and was serving the boy’s funeral repast, saying: “This pancake is for you, my little guest, and this one for you, my husband, and this one for me.”

Tereshichka said beneath the window, “And which one is for me?”

The old man went out, saw Tereshichka, took him in his arms, brought him to his mother – and hearty embraces were exchanged all around. As for the little plucked goose, he was given food and drink and set free. And thereafter he spread his wings wide, flew at the head of the flock, and remembered how he rescued Tereshichka.

Did you enjoy this fairy tale? If so, please share it with your friends and family. These beautiful stories deserve to be cherished for generations to come.

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The Dragon

The Dragon is an Italian fairy tale from a collection called Stories from the Pentamerone (1634). These beautiful stories were collected by Italian poet Giambattista Basile. Stories from the Pentamerone is an obscure assortment of fairy tales, that gained new attention after the Brothers Grimm praised it. They claimed it was the first national collection of fairy tales. Giambattista Basile was a Neapolitan poet, courtier, and fairy tale collection.

In folklore, dragons are typically depicted as large and powerful serpents with magical qualities. These majestic creature occur in legends all over the world, but depending on the culture, they are seen quite differently. For example, Eastern dragons are usually seen as benevolent and spiritual. They represent the primal forces of nature and are a source of great wisdom. On the other hand, European dragons are often associated with evil and supernatural forces. They are perceived as the enemy of humanity and must be destroyed for good to prevail. 

The Dragon

(Italian Fairy Tale)

There was one time a King of High-Shore, who practiced such tyranny and cruelty that, whilst he was once gone on a visit of pleasure to a castle at a distance from the city, his royal seat was usurped by a certain sorceress. Whereupon, having consulted a wooden statue which used to give oracular responses, it answered that he would recover his dominions when the sorceress should lose her sight. But seeing that the sorceress, besides being well guarded, knew at a glance the people whom he sent to annoy her, and did dog’s justice upon them, he became quite desperate, and out of spite to her, he killed all the women of that place whom he could get into his hands.

Now after hundreds and hundreds had been led thither by their ill-luck, only to lose their lives, there chanced, among others, to come a maiden named Porziella, the most beautiful creature that could be seen on the whole earth, and the King could not help falling in love with her and making her his wife. But he was so cruel and spiteful to women that, after a while, he was going to kill her like the rest; but just as he was raising the dagger a bird let fall a certain root upon his arm, and he was seized with such a trembling that the weapon fell from his hand.

This bird was a fairy, who, a few days before, having gone to sleep in a wood, where beneath the tent of the Shades Fear kept watch and defied the Sun’s heat, a certain satyr was about to rob her when she was awakened by Porziella, and for this kindness she continually followed her steps in order to make her a return.

When the King saw this, he thought that the beauty of Porziella’s face had arrested his arm and bewitched the dagger to prevent its piercing her as it had done so many others. He resolved, therefore, not to make the attempt a second time, but that she should die built up in a garret of his palace. No sooner said than done: the unhappy creature was enclosed within four walls, without having anything to eat or drink, and left to waste away and die little by little.

The bird, seeing her in this wretched state, consoled her with kind words, bidding her be of good cheer, and promising, in return for the great kindness she had done for her, to aid her if necessary with her very life. In spite, however, of all the entreaties of Porziella, the bird would never tell her who she was, but only said that she was under obligations to her, and would leave nothing undone to serve her. And seeing that the poor girl was famished with hunger, she flew out and speedily returned with a pointed knife which she had taken from the king’s pantry, and told her to make a hole in the corner of the floor just over the kitchen, through which she would regularly bring her food to sustain her life.

So Porziella bored away until she had made a passage for the bird, who, watching till the cook was gone out to fetch a pitcher of water from the well, went down through the hole, and taking a fine fowl that was cooking at the fire, brought it to Porziella; then to relieve her thirst, not knowing how to carry her any drink, she flew to the pantry, where there was a quantity of grapes hanging, and brought her a fine bunch; and this she did regularly for many days.

Meanwhile Porziella gave birth to a fine little boy, whom she suckled and reared with the constant aid of the bird. And when he was grown big, the fairy advised his mother to make the hole larger, and to raise so many boards of the floor as would allow Miuccio (for so the child was called) to pass through; and then, after letting him down with some cords which the bird brought, to put the boards back into their place, that it might not be seen where he came from.

So Porziella did as the bird directed her; and as soon as the cook was gone out, she let down her son, desiring him never to tell whence he came nor whose son he was. When the cook returned and saw such a fine little boy, he asked him who he was, whence he came, and what he wanted; whereupon, the child, remembering his mother’s advice, said that he was a poor forlorn boy who was looking about for a master. As they were talking, the butler came in, and seeing the spritely little fellow, he thought he would make a pretty page for the King.

So he led him to the royal apartments; and when the King saw him look so handsome and lovely that he appeared a very jewel, he was vastly pleased with him, and took him into his service as a page and to his heart as a son, and had him taught all the exercises befitting a cavalier, so that Miuccio grew up the most accomplished one in the court, and the King loved him much better than his stepson. Now the King’s stepmother, who was really the queen, on this account began to take a dislike to him, and to hold him in aversion; and her envy and malice gained ground just in proportion as the favours and kindness which the King bestowed on Miuccio cleared the way for them; so she
resolved to soap the ladder of his fortune in order that he should tumble down from top to bottom.

Accordingly one evening, when the King and his stepmother had tuned their instruments together and were making music of their discourse, the Queen told the King that Miuccio had boasted he would build three castles in the air. So the next morning, at the time when the Moon, the school-mistress of the Shades, gives a holiday to her scholars for the festival of the Sun, the King, either from surprise or to gratify the old Queen, ordered Miuccio to be called, and commanded him forthwith to build the three castles in the air as he had promised, or else he would make him dance a jig in the air.

When Miuccio heard this he went to his chamber and began to lament bitterly, seeing what glass the favour of princes is, and how short a time it lasts. And while he was weeping thus, lo! the bird came, and said to him, “Take heart, Miuccio, and fear not while you have me by your side, for I am able to draw you out of the fire.” Then she directed him to take pasteboard and glue and make three large castles; and calling up three large griffins, she tied a castle to each, and away they flew up into the air. Thereupon Miuccio called the King, who came running with all his court to see the sight; and when he saw the ingenuity of Miuccio he had a still greater affection for him, and lavished on him caresses of the other world, which added snow to the envy of the Queen and fire to her rage, seeing that all her plans failed; insomuch that, both sleeping and waking, she was forever thinking of some way to remove this thorn from her eyes. So at last, after some days, she said to the King, “Son, the time is now come for us to return to our former greatness and the pleasures of past times, since Miuccio has offered to blind the sorceress, and by the disbursement of her eyes to make you recover your lost kingdom.”

The King, who felt himself touched in the sore place, called for Miuccio that very instant, and said to him, “I am greatly surprised that, notwithstanding all my love for you, and that you have the power to restore me to the seat from which I have fallen, you remain thus careless, instead of endeavouring to relieve me from the misery I am in–reduced thus from a kingdom to a wood, from a city to a paltry castle, and from commanding so great a people to be hardly waited on by a parcel of half-starved menials. If, therefore, you do not wish me ill, run now at once and blind the eyes of the fairy who has possession of my property, for by putting out her lanterns you will light the lamps of my honour that are now dark and dismal.”

When Miuccio heard this proposal he was about to reply that the King was ill-informed and had mistaken him, as he was neither a raven to pick out eyes nor an auger to bore holes; but the King said, “No more words–so I will have it, so let it be done! Remember now, that in the mint of this brain of mine I have the balance ready; in one scale the reward, if you do what I tell you; in the other the punishment, if you neglect doing what I command.”

Miuccio, who could not butt against a rock, and had to do with a man who was not to be moved, went into a corner to bemoan himself; and the bird came to him and said, “Is it possible, Miuccio, that you will always be drowning yourself in a tumbler of water? If I were dead indeed you could not make more fuss. Do you not know that I have more regard for your life than for my own? Therefore don’t lose courage; come with me, and you shall see what I can do.” So saying off she flew, and alighted in the wood, where as soon as she began to chirp, there came a large flock of birds about her, to whom she told the story, assuring them that whoever would venture to deprive the sorceress of sight should have from her a safeguard against the talons of the hawks and kites, and a letter of protection against the guns, crossbows, longbows, and bird-lime of the fowlers.

There was among them a swallow who had made her nest against a beam of the royal palace, and who hated the sorceress, because, when making her accursed conjurations, she had several times driven her out of the chamber with her fumigations; for which reason, partly out of a desire of revenge, and partly to gain the reward that the bird promised, she offered herself to perform the service. So away she flew like lightning to the city, and entering the palace, found the fairy lying on a couch, with two damsels fanning her. Then the swallow came, and alighting directly over the fairy, pecked out her eyes. Whereupon the fairy, thus seeing night at midday, knew that by this closing of the custom-house the merchandise of the kingdom was all lost; and uttering yells, as of a condemned soul, she abandoned the sceptre and went off to hide herself in a certain cave, where she knocked her head continually against the wall, until at length she ended her days.

When the sorceress was gone, the councillors sent ambassadors to the King, praying him to come back to his castle, since the blinding of the sorceress had caused him to see this happy day. And at the same time they arrived came also Miuccio, who, by the bird’s direction, said to the King, “I have served you to the best of my power; the sorceress is blinded, the kingdom is yours. Wherefore, if I deserve recompense for this service, I wish for no other than to be left to my ill-fortune, without being again exposed to these dangers.”

But the King, embracing him with great affection, bade him put on his cap and sit beside him; and how the Queen was enraged at this, Heaven knows, for by the bow of many colours that appeared in her face might be known the wind of the storm that was brewing in her heart against poor Miuccio.

Not far from this castle lived a most ferocious dragon, who was born the same hour with the Queen; and the astrologers being called by her father to astrologise on this event, said that his daughter would be safe as long as the dragon was safe, and that when one died, the other would of necessity die also. One thing alone could bring back the Queen to life, and that was to anoint her temples, chest, nostrils, and pulse with the blood of the same dragon.

Now the Queen, knowing the strength and fury of this animal, resolved to send Miuccio into his claws, well assured that the beast would make but a mouthful of him, and that he would be like a strawberry in the throat of a bear. So turning to the King, she said, “Upon my word, this Miuccio is the treasure of your house, and you would be ungrateful indeed if you did not love him, especially as he had expressed his desire to kill the dragon, who, though he is my brother, is nevertheless your enemy; and I care more for a hair of your head than for a hundred brothers.”

The King, who hated the dragon mortally, and knew not how to remove him out of his sight, instantly called Miuccio, and said to him, “I know that you can put your hand to whatever you will; therefore, as you have done so much, grant me yet another pleasure, and then turn me whithersoever you will. Go this very instant and kill the dragon; for you will do me a singular service, and I will reward you well for it.”

Miuccio at these words was near losing his senses, and as soon as he was able to speak, he said to the King, “Alas, what a headache have you given me by your continual teasing! Is my life a black goat-skin rug that you are forever wearing it away thus? This is not a pared pear ready to drop into one’s mouth, but a dragon, that tears with his claws, breaks to pieces with his head, crushes with his tail, crunches with his teeth, poisons with his eyes, and kills with his breath. Wherefore do you want to send me to death? Is this the sinecure you give me for having given you a kingdom? Who is the wicked soul that has set this die on the table? What son of perdition has taught you these capers and put these words into your mouth?”

Then the King, who, although he let himself be tossed to and fro as light as a ball, was firmer than a rock in keeping to what he had once said, stamped with his feet, and exclaimed, “After all you have done, do you fail at the last? But no more words; go, rid my kingdom of this plague, unless you would have me rid you of life.”

Poor Miuccio, who thus received one minute a favour, at another a threat, now a pat on the face, and now a kick, now a kind word, now a cruel one, reflected how mutable court fortune is, and would fain have been without the acquaintance of the King. But knowing that to reply to great men is a folly, and like plucking a lion by the beard, he withdrew, cursing his fate, which had led him to the court only to curtail the days of his life. And as he was sitting on one of the door-steps, with his head between his knees, washing his shoes with his tears and warming the ground with his sighs, behold the bird came flying with a plant in her beak, and throwing it to him, said, “Get up, Miuccio, and take courage! for you are not going to play at unload the ass’ with your days, but at backgammon with the life of the dragon. Take this plant, and when you come to the cave of that horrid animal, throw it in, and instantly such a drowsiness will come over him that he will fall fast asleep; whereupon, nicking and sticking him with a good knife, you may soon make an end of him. Then come away, for things will turn out better than you think.”

“Enough!” cried Miuccio, “I know what I carry under my belt; we have more time than money, and he who has time has life.” So saying, he got up, and sticking a pruning-knife in his belt and taking the plant, he went his way to the dragon’s cave, which was under a mountain of such goodly growth, that the three mountains that were steps to the Giants would not have reached up to its waist. When he came there, he threw the plant into the cave, and instantly a deep sleep laid hold on the dragon, and Miuccio began to cut him in pieces.

Now just at the time that he was busied thus, the Queen felt a cutting pain at her heart; and seeing herself brought to a bad pass, she perceived her error in having purchased death with ready money. So she called her stepson and told him what the astrologers had predicted–how her life depended on that of the dragon, and how she feared that Miuccio had killed him, for she felt herself gradually sliding away. Then the King replied, “If you knew that the life of the dragon was the prop of your life and the root of your days, why did you make me send Miuccio? Who is in fault? You must have done yourself the mischief, and you must suffer for it; you have broken the glass, and you may pay the cost.”

And the Queen answered, “I never thought that such a stripling could have the skill and strength to overthrow an animal which made nothing of an army, and I expected that he would have left his rags there. But since I reckoned without my host, and the bark of my projects is gone out of its course, do me one kindness if you love me. When I am dead, take a sponge dipped in the blood of this dragon and anoint with it all the extremities of my body before you bury me.”

“That is but a small thing for the love I bear you,” replied the King; “and if the blood of the dragon is not enough, I will add my own to give you satisfaction.” The Queen was about to thank him, but the breath left her with the speech; for just then Miuccio had made an end of scoring the dragon.

No sooner had Miuccio come into the King’s presence with the news of what he had done than the King ordered him to go back for the dragon’s blood; but being curious to see the deed done by Miuccio’s hand, he followed him. And as Miuccio was going out of the palace gate, the bird met him, and said, “Whither are you going?” and Miuccio answered, “I am going whither the King sends me; he makes me fly backwards and forwards like a shuttle, and never lets me rest an hour.”

“What to do?” said the bird. “To fetch the blood of the dragon,” said Miuccio. And the bird replied, “Ah, wretched youth! this dragon’s blood will be bull’s blood to you, and make you burst; for this blood will cause to spring up again the evil seed of all your misfortunes. The Queen is continually exposing you to new dangers that you may lose your life; and the King, who lets this odious creature put the pack-saddle on him, orders you, like a castaway, to endanger your person, which is his own flesh and blood and a shoot of his stem. But the wretched man does not know you, though the inborn affection he bears you should have betrayed your kindred. Moreover, the services you have rendered the King, and the gain to himself of so handsome a son and heir, ought to obtain favor for unhappy Porziella, your mother, who has now for fourteen years been buried alive in a garret, where is seen a temple of beauty built up within a little chamber.”

While the fairy was thus speaking, the King, who had heard every word, stepped forward to learn the truth of the matter better; and finding that Miuccio was his own and Porziella’s son, and that Porziella was still alive in the garret, he instantly gave orders that she should be set free and brought before him. And when he saw her looking more beautiful than ever, owing to the care taken of her by the bird, he embraced her with the greatest affection, and was never satisfied with pressing to his heart first the mother and then the son, praying forgiveness of Porziella for his ill-treatment of her, and of his son for all the dangers to which he had exposed him.

Then he ordered her to be clothed in the richest robes, and had her crowned Queen before all the people. And when the King heard that her preservation, and the escape of his son from so many dangers were entirely owing to the bird, which had given food to the one and counsel to the other, he offered her his kingdom and his life. But the bird said she desired no other reward for her services than to have Miuccio for a husband; and as she uttered the words she was changed into a beautiful maiden, and, to the great joy and satisfaction of the King and Porziella, she was given to Miuccio to wife. Then the newly-married couple, to give still greater festivals, went their way to their own kingdom, where they were anxiously expected, every one ascribing this good fortune to the fairy, for the kindness that Porziella had done her;
for at the end of the end — “A good deed is never lost.”

Did you enjoy this fairy tale? If so, please share it with your friends and family. These beautiful stories deserve to be cherished for generations to come.

 What appealed you about this story? Did you have any questions about the characters or plot? I’d love to hear your feedback. Please leave a note for me in the comments section below.

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The Flying Ship

The Flying Ship is a fairy tale from Andrew Lang’s Yellow Fairy Book (1894). Lang authored a series of 25 collections of stories for children. They ranged from true to fictional tales and were published between 1889 and 1913. The best known books from these series were the coloured books, which included many beautiful fairy tales. Andrew Lang was a Scots poet, novelist, and literary critic. Lang collected many of the tales, while his wife and other translators retold the actual stories.

This particular story has similar versions in Russian folklore. Lang gathered stories from Hungary, Poland, Russia, Germany, France, and England. The entire Yellow Fairy Book contains 48 stories and is narrated in clear and lively prose. Lang was able to create a wide range of stories within each of his collections and retell them in a pleasing and sensible way. The Flying Ship teaches readers lessons about friendship and positive thinking. It also has the beautiful whimsy of traditional folklore, which many modern fairy tales seem to lack.

The Flying Ship

Once upon a time there lived an old couple who had three sons; the two elder were clever, but the third was a regular dunce. The clever sons were very fond of their mother, gave her good clothes, and always spoke pleasantly to her; but the youngest was always getting in her way, and she had no patience with him. Now, one day it was announced in the village that the King had issued a decree, offering his daughter, the Princess, in marriage to whoever should build a ship that could fly. Immediately the two elder brothers determined to try their luck, and asked their parents’ blessing. So the old mother smartened up their clothes, and gave them a store of provisions for their journey, not forgetting to add a bottle of brandy. When they had gone, the poor Simpleton began to tease his mother to smarten him up and let him start off.

“What would become of a dolt like you?” she answered. “Why, you would be eaten up by wolves.”

But the foolish youth kept repeating, “I will go, I will go, I will go!”

Seeing that she could do nothing with him, the mother gave him a crust of bread and a bottle of water, and took no further heed of him.

So the Simpleton set off on his way. When he had gone a short distance he met a little old man. They greeted one another, and the man asked him where he was going. “I am off to the King’s Court,” he answered. “He has promised to give his daughter to whoever can make a flying ship.”

“And can you make such a ship?”

The Simpleton answered that he could not. “Well, if that is the case,” said the old man, “sit down beside me; we can rest for a little and have something to eat. Give me what you have got in your satchel.”

Now, the poor Simpleton was ashamed to show what was in it. However, he thought it best not to make a fuss, so he opened the satchel, and could scarcely believe his own eyes, for, instead of the hard crust, he saw two beautiful fresh rolls and some cold meat. He shared them with the man, who licked his lips and said, ” Now, go into that wood, and stop in front of the first tree, bow three times, and then strike the tree with your axe, fall on your knees on the ground, with your face on the earth, and remain there till you are raised up. You will then find a ship at your side, step into it and fly to the King’s Palace. If you meet anyone on the way, take him with you.”

The Simpleton thanked the old man very kindly, bade him farewell, and went into the road. When he got to the first tree he stopped in front of it, did everything just as he had been told, and, kneeling on the ground with his face to the earth, fell asleep. After a little time he was aroused; he awoke and, rubbing his eyes, saw a ready-made ship at his side, and at once got into it. And the ship rose and rose, and in another minute was flying through the air, when the Simpleton, who was on the lookout, cast his eyes down to the earth and saw a man beneath him on the road, who was kneeling with his ear upon the damp ground. “Hello!” he called out, “what are you doing down there?”

“I am listening to what is going on in the world,” replied the man.

“Come with me in my ship,” said the Simpleton. So the man was only too glad, and got in beside him; and the ship flew, and flew, and flew through the air, till again from his outlook the Simpleton saw a man on the road below, who was hopping on one leg, while his other leg was tied up behind his ear. So he hailed him, calling out, “Hello! what are you doing, hopping on one leg?”

“I can’t help it,” replied the man. “I walk so fast that unless I tied up one leg I should be at the end of the earth in a bound.”

“Come with us on my ship,” he answered; and the man made no objections, but joined them, and the ship flew on, and on, and on, till suddenly the Simpleton, looking down on the road below, beheld a man aiming with a gun into the distance. “Hello!” he shouted to him, “what are you aiming at? As far as eye can see, there is no bird in sight.”

“What would be the good of my taking a near shot?” replied the man, “I can hit beast or bird at a hundred miles’ distance. That is the kind of shot I enjoy.”

“Come into the ship with us,” answered the Simpleton; and the man was only too glad to join them, and he got in; and the ship flew on, farther and farther, till again the Simpleton from his outlook saw a man on the road below, carrying on his back a basket full of bread. And he waved to him, calling out, “Hello! where are you going?”

“To fetch bread for my breakfast.”

“Bread? Why, you have got a whole basket-load of it on your back.”

“That’s nothing,” answered the man, “I should finish that in one mouthful.”

“Come along with us in my ship, then.” And so the glutton joined the party, and the ship mounted again into the air, and flew up and onward, till the Simpleton from his outlook saw a man walking by the shore of a great lake, and evidently looking for something.

“Hello!” he cried to him, “what are you seeking?”

“I want water to drink, I’m so thirsty,” replied the man.

“Well, there’s a whole lake in front of you; why don’t you drink some of that?”

“Do you call that enough?” answered the other. “Why, I should drink it up in one gulp.”

“Well, come with us in the ship.” And so the mighty drinker was added to the company; and the ship flew farther, and even farther, till again the Simpleton looked out, and this time he saw a man dragging a bundle of wood, walking through the forest beneath them. “Hello!” he shouted to him, “why are you carrying wood through a forest?”

“This is not common wood,” answered the other.

“What sort of wood is it, then?” said the Simpleton.

“If you throw it upon the ground,’ said the man, “it will be changed into an army of soldiers.”

“Come into the ship with us, then.” And so he too joined them; and away the ship flew on, and on, and on, and once more the Simpleton looked out, and this time he saw a man carrying straw upon his back. “Hello! Where are you carrying that straw to?”

“To the village,” said the man.

“Do you mean to say there is no straw in the village?”

“Ah! but this is quite a peculiar straw. If you strew it about even in the hottest summer the air at once becomes cold, and snow falls, and the people freeze.”

Then the Simpleton asked him also to join them. At last the ship, with its strange crew, arrived at the King’s Court. The King was having his dinner, but he at once dispatched one of his courtiers to find out what the huge, strange new bird could be that had come flying through the air. The courtier peeped into the ship, and, seeing what it was, instantly went back to the King and told him that it was a flying ship, and that it was manned by a few peasants.

Then the King remembered his royal oath; but he made up his mind that he would never consent to let the Princess marry a poor peasant. So he thought and thought, and then said to himself, “I will give him some impossible tasks to perform; that will be the best way of getting rid of him.” And he there and then decided to dispatch one of his courtiers to the Simpleton, with the command that he was to fetch the King the healing water from the world’s end before he had finished his dinner.

But while the King was still instructing the courtier exactly what he was to say, the first man of the ship’s company, the one with the miraculous power of hearing, had overheard the King’s words, and hastily reported them to the poor Simpleton. “Alas, alas!” he cried; “what am I to do now? It would take me quite a year, possibly my whole life, to find the water.”

“Never fear,” said his fleet-footed comrade, “I will fetch what the King wants.”

Just then the courtier arrived, bearing the King’s command. “Tell his Majesty,” said the Simpleton, “that his orders shall be obeyed.” And forthwith the swift runner unbound the foot that was strung up behind his ear and started off, and in less than no time had reached the world’s end and drawn the healing water from the well.

“Dear me,” he thought to himself, “that’s rather tiring! I’ll just rest for a few minutes; it will be some little time yet before the King has got to dessert.” So he threw himself down on the grass, and, as the sun was very dazzling, he closed his eyes, and in a few seconds had fallen sound asleep.

In the meantime all the ship’s crew were anxiously awaiting him; the King’s dinner would soon be finished, and their comrade had not yet returned. So the man with the marvellous quick hearing lay down and, putting his ear to the ground, listened. “That’s a nice sort of fellow!” he suddenly exclaimed. “He’s lying on the ground, snoring hard!”

At this the marksman seized his gun, took aim, and fired in the direction of the world’s end, in order to awaken the sluggard. And a moment later the swift runner reappeared, and, stepping on board the ship, handed the healing water to the Simpleton. So while the King was still sitting at table finishing his dinner news was brought to him that his orders had been obeyed to the letter.

What was to be done now? The King determined to think of a still more impossible task. So he told another courtier to go to the Simpleton with the command that he and his comrades were instantly to eat up twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread. Once more the sharp-eared comrade overheard the King’s words while he was still talking to the courtier, and reported them to the Simpleton.

“Alas, alas!” he sighed, “what in the world shall I do? Why, it would take us a year, possibly our whole lives, to eat up twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread.”

“Never fear,” said the glutton. “It will scarcely be enough for me, I’m so hungry.”

So when the courtier arrived with the royal message he was told to take back word to the King that his orders should be obeyed. Then twelve roasted oxen and twelve tons of bread were brought alongside of the ship, and at one sitting the glutton had devoured it all.

“I call that a small meal,” he said. “I wish they’d brought me some more.”

Next, the King ordered that forty casks of wine, containing forty gallons each, were to be drunk up on the spot by the Simpleton and his party. When these words were overheard by the sharp-eared comrade and repeated to the Simpleton, he was in despair.

“Alas, alas!” he exclaimed, “what is to be done? It would take us a year, possibly our whole lives, to drink so much.”

“Never fear,” said his thirsty comrade. “I’ll drink it all up at a gulp, see if I don’t.” And sure enough, when the forty casks of wine containing forty gallons each were brought alongside of the ship, they disappeared down the thirsty comrade’s throat in no time; and when they were empty he remarked, “Why, I’m still thirsty. I should have been glad of two more casks.”

Then the King took counsel with himself and sent an order to the Simpleton that he was to have a bath, in a bathroom at the royal palace, and after that the betrothal should take place. Now the bathroom was built of iron, and the King gave orders that it was to be heated to such a pitch that it would suffocate the Simpleton. And so when the poor silly youth entered the room, he discovered that the iron walls were red hot. But, fortunately, his comrade with the straw on his back had entered behind him, and when the door was shut upon them he scattered the straw about, and suddenly the red-hot walls cooled down, and it became so very cold that the Simpleton could scarcely bear to take a bath, and all the water in the room froze. So the Simpleton climbed up upon the stove, and, wrapping himself up in the bath blankets, lay there the whole night. And in the morning when they opened the door there he lay sound and safe, singing cheerfully to himself.

Now when this strange tale was told to the King he became quite sad, not knowing what he should do to get rid of so undesirable a son-in-law, when suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him. “Tell the rascal to raise me an army, now at this instant!” he exclaimed to one of his courtiers. “Inform him at once of this, my royal will.” And to himself he added, “I think I shall do for him this time.”

As on former occasions, the quick-eared comrade had overheard the King’s command and repeated it to the Simpleton. “Alas, alas!” he groaned, “now I am quite done for.”

“Not at all,” replied one of his comrades (the one who had dragged the bundle of wood through the forest). “Have you quite forgotten me?”

In the meantime the courtier, who had run all the way from the palace, reached the ship panting and breathless, and delivered the King’s message. “Good!” remarked the Simpleton. “I will raise an army for the King,” and he drew himself up. “But if, after that, the King refuses to accept me as his son-in-law, I will wage war against him, and carry the Princess off by force.”

During the night the Simpleton and his comrade went, together into a big field, not forgetting to take the bundle of wood with them, which the man spread out in all directions—and in a moment a mighty army stood upon the spot, regiment on regiment of foot and horse soldiers; the bugles sounded and the drums beat, the chargers neighed, and their riders put their lances in rest, and the soldiers presented arms.

In the morning when the King awoke he was startled by these warlike sounds, the bugles and the drums, and the clatter of the horses, and the shouts of the soldiers. And, stepping to the window, he saw the lances gleam in the sunlight and the armour and weapons glitter. And the proud monarch said to himself, “I am powerless in comparison with this man.” So he sent him royal robes and costly jewels, and commanded him to come to the palace to be married to the Princess. And his son-in-law put on the royal robes, and he looked so grand and stately that it was impossible to recognise the poor Simpleton, so changed was he; and the Princess fell in love with him as soon as ever she saw him.

Never before had so grand a wedding been seen, and there was so much food and wine that even the glutton and the thirsty comrade had enough to eat and drink.

Did you enjoy this fairy tale? If so, please share it with your friends and family. These beautiful stories deserve to be cherished for generations to come.

 What appealed you about this story? Did you have any questions about the characters or plot? I’d love to hear your feedback. Please leave a note for me in the comments section below.

 If you’d like to support this blog, please visit my shop. Paintings, prints and books are available for sale online. Thank you so much! 

Dawn, Evening, and Midnight

Dawn, Evening, and Midnight is a riveting story from a collection of Russian fairy tales published in 1866. The Russian stories were gathered by Aleksandr Afanas’ev, who was considered the Russian counterpart of the Grimm Brothers. Afanas’ev was a lawyer by education and his collection of folklore was instrumental in introducing Russian popular tales to world literature.

The pattern of three is commonly used in fairy tales. It is excessively used in this story – notice how many places it is used throughout the whole tale. The power of three is used as a suspense-building tool. It also illustrates the personality of characters. For example, if there are three children – two of them usually feature very positive or negative qualities, while the third is the complete opposite. They are often rewarded for their uniqueness as the story progresses. The pattern of three also works as a memory tool, and psychologically the number three plays a big part in persuasion. Regardless of the reason, three is commonly used in folklore and will continue to be used as a tool in stories to come.

Dawn, Evening, and Midnight

(Russian Fairy Tale)

In a certain kingdom there was a king who had three daughters of surpassing beauty. The king guarded them more carefully than his most precious treasure; he built underground chambers and kept his daughters there like birds in a cage, so that rough winds could not blow upon them nor the red sun scorch them with his rays. One day the princesses read in a certain book that there was a marvelous bright world, and when the king came to visit them, they straightway began to implore him with tears in their eyes, saying, “Sovereign, our father, let us out to see the bright world and walk in the green garden.”

The king tried to dissuade them but to no avail. They would not even listen to him; the more he refused, the more urgently they besought him. There was nothing to be done, so the king granted their insistent prayer. And so the beautiful princesses went out to walk in the garden. They beheld the red sun, the trees, and the flowers, and were overjoyed that they had the freedom of the bright world.

They ran about in the garden and enjoyed themselves – when a sudden whirlwind seized them and carried them off far and high, no one knew whither. The alarmed nurses and governesses ran to report this to the king; the king straightway sent his faithful servants in all directions, promising a great reward to him who should find traces of the princesses. The servants traveled and traveled but did not discover anything and came back no wiser than they had set out.

The king called his grand council together and asked his councilors and boyars whether anyone among them would undertake the search for his daughters. To any man who might find them, he said, he would give the princess of his choice in marriage, and a rich dowry. The king asked once and the boyars were silent; he asked a second time and they still did not answer; he asked a third time and no one made a sound! The king burst into tears. “Apparently I have no friends or helpers here,” he said, and ordered that a call be issued throughout the kingdom. He hoped that someone from among the common people would undertake the heavy task.

At that time there lived in the village a poor widow who had three sons; they were mighty champions. All of there were born in one night – the eldest in the evening, the second at midnight, and the youngest in the early dawn, and therefore they were called Evening, Midnight, and Dawn. When the king’s call reached them, they straightway asked for their mother’s blessing, made ready for the journey, and rode to the capital city. They came to the king, bowed low, and said, “Rule for many years, sovereign! We have come to you not to celebrate a feast, but to perform a task. Give us leave to go in search of your daughters.”

“Hail, good youths! What shall I give you for your voyage?”

“We do not need anything, sire; only do not forget our mother, care for her in her poverty and old age.” The king took the old woman into his palace, and ordered that she be given food and drink from his table and clothes and shoes from his stores.

The good youths set out on their way. They rode one month, a second, and a third; then they came to a wide desert steppe. Beyond the steppe was a thick forest, and close to the forest stood a little hut. They knocked at the window and there was no answer; they entered and no one was in the hut. “Well, brothers,” said one of the three, “let us stop here for a time and rest from our travels.”

They undressed, prayed to God, and went to sleep. Next morning Dawn, the youngest brother, said to Evening, his eldest brother, “We two shall go hunting, and you stay at home and prepare the diner.” The eldest brother consented. Near the hut there was a shed full of sheep; without thinking much he took the best ram, slaughtered and cleaned it, and put it on the roast for dinner. He prepared everything and lay down to rest on a bench.

Suddenly there was a rumbling noise, the door opened, and there entered a little man as big as a thumb, with a very long beard. He cast an angry look around and cried to Evening, “How dared you make yourself at home in my house, how dared to slaughter my ram?”

Evening answered, “First grow up – otherwise you cannot be seen from the ground! I shall take a spoonful of cabbage soup and a crumb of bread and throw them in your eyes!”

The old man as big as a thumb grew more furious, “I am small but strong!”

He snatched up a crust of bread and began to beat Evening over the head with it; he beat him till he was half dead and threw him under the bench. Then the little old man ate the roasted ram and went into the woods. Evening tied a rag around his head and lay moaning. The brothers returned and asked, “What is the matter with you?”

“Eh, brothers, I made a fire in the stove, but because of the great heat I got a headache; I lay all day like one dazed, I could neither cook nor roast!”

Next day Dawn and Evening went hunting, and Midnight was left at home to prepare dinner. Midnight made a fire, chose the fattest ram, slaughtered it, and put it in the oven; then he lay on the bench. Suddenly there was a rumbling noise, and the old man as big as a thumb came in and began to beat and thrash him; he almost beat him to death. Then he ate the roasted ram and went into the woods. Midnight tied up his head with a handkerchief and lay under the bench and moaned. The brother returned. “What is the matter with you?” Dawn asked him.

“I have a headache from the fumes of the stove, brothers, and I have not prepared your dinner.”

On the third day the two elder brothers went hunting and Dawn stayed at home; he chose the best ram, slaughtered and cleaned it, and put it on to roast. Then he lay on the bench. Suddenly there was a rumbling noise – and he saw the old man as big as a thumb carrying a whole hayrick on his head and holding a huge cask of water in his hand. The little old man put down the cast of water, spread the hay over the yard, and began to count his sheep. He saw that another ram was missing, grew angry, ran to the house, jumped at Dawn, and hit him on the head with all his strength, Dawn jumped up, grabbed the little old man by his long beard, and began to drag him around, repeating, “Look before you leap, look before you leap!”

The old man as big as a thumb began to implore him, “Have pity on me, mighty champion, do not put me to death, let my soul repent!” Dawn dragged him out into the yard, led him to an oaken pillar, and fastened his beard to the pillar with a big iron spike; then he returned to the house and sad down to wait for his brothers.

The brothers came back from their hunting and were amazed to find him safe and sound. Dawn smiled and said, “Come with me, brothers, I have caught your fumes and fastened them to a pillar.”

They went into the yard, they looked – but the old man as big as a thumb had long since run away. But half of his beard dangled from the pillar, and blood was spattered over his tracks. Following this clue, the brothers came to a deep hole in the ground. Dawn went to the woods, wound a rope, and told his brothers to drop him underground. Evening and Midnight dropped him into the hole.

He found himself in the underworld, released himself from the rope, and walked straight ahead. He walked and walked, and saw a copper castle. He entered the castle, and the youngest princess, rosier than a pink rose, whiter than white snow, came out to meet him and asked him kindly, “How have you come here, good youth – of your own will or by compulsion?”

“Your father has sent me in search of you, princess.”

She straightway seated him at the table, gave him meat and drink, and then handed him a vial with water of strength. “Drink of this water,” she said, “and you will have added strength.”

Dawn drank the vial of water and felt great power in himself. “Now,” he thought, “I can get the better of anyone.”

At this moment a wild wind arose, and the princess was frightened. “Presently,” she said, “my dragon will come.” And she took Dawn by his hand and hid him in the adjoining room.

A three-headed dragon came flying, struck the damp earth, turned into a youth, and cried, “Oh, there is a Russian smell in here! Who is visiting you?”

“Who could be here? You have been flying over Russia and you have the Russian smell in your nostrils – that is why you fancy it is here.”

The dragon asked for food and drink, and the princess brought him a variety of meats and drink and poured a sleeping potion into the wine. The dragon ate and drank his fill and was soon overwhelmed by drowsiness; he made the princess pick the lice from his hair, lay on her knees, and fell sound asleep. The princess called Dawn.

He came forward, swung his sword, and cut off all the dragon’s three heads; then he made a bonfire, burned the foul dragon and called his ashes in the open field. “Now, farewell, princess! I am going to seek your sisters; and when I have found them I shall come back for you,” said Dawn, and set out.

He walked and walked, and came to a silver castle; in that castle lived the second princess. Dawn killed a six-headed dragon there and went on. After a long time or a short time, he reached a golden castle, and in that castle lived the eldest princess; Dawn killed a twelve-headed dragon and freed that princess from captivity.

The princess was overjoyed, made ready to return home, went out into the wide courtyard, waved a red handkerchief, and the golden kingdom rolled up into an egg; she took the egg, put it in her pocket, and went with Dawn to seek her sisters. These princesses did the same thing, they rolled up their kingdoms into eggs, took them, and all of them went to the hole.

Evening and Midnight pulled up their brother and the three princesses out into the bright world. They all came together to their own land; the princesses rolled their eggs into the open field, and straightway three kingdoms appeared, a copper, a silver, and a golden one. The king was more overjoyed than any tongue can tell; he immediately married Dawn, Evening, and Midnight to his daughters, and at his death made Dawn his heir.

Did you enjoy this fairy tale? If so, please share it with your friends and family. These beautiful stories deserve to be cherished for generations to come.

 What appealed you about this story? Did you have any questions about the characters or plot? I’d love to hear your feedback. Please leave a note for me in the comments section below.

 If you’d like to support this blog, please visit my shop. Paintings, prints and books are available for sale online. Thank you so much! 

The Enchanted Dolls

The Enchanted Dolls, originally titled “Prince Danilla Govorilla,” is a delightfully dark story from a collection of Russian fairy tales published in 1866. The Russian stories were gathered by Aleksandr Afanas’ev, who was considered the Russian counterpart of the Grimm Brothers. Afanas’ev was a lawyer by education and his collection of folklore was instrumental in introducing Russian popular tales to world literature.

Dolls have often been a source of inspiration in fairy tales. Some well known examples are puppets, voodoo dolls, and even a nutcracker. Russian fairy tales have a particular fondness for creepy animated dolls. Vasilisa, a main heroine in Russian folklore, has a magical doll that grants her wishes. The enchanted dolls in Prince Danilla Govorilla create a portal to the underworld. Russian folklore is deeply rooted in old world paganism. Small handheld dolls have even been found buried in the walls of village homes from hundreds of years ago. The dolls were used as charms to ward off  evil spirits and bring good fortune.

The Enchanted Dolls

(Russian Fairy Tale)

There was once an old princess; she had a son and a daughter, both well built, both handsome. A wicked witch disliked them; she pondered and pondered as to how she could lead them into evil ways and destroy them. In the end she conceived a plan. Like a cunning fox she came to their mother and said, “My little dove, my dear friend, here is a ring for you; put it on your son’s finger. With its help he will be healthy and wealthy, but he must never take it off, and he must marry only that maiden whom the ring fits.” The old woman believed her and was overjoyed; before her death she enjoined upon her son that he take to wife, a woman whom the ring would be found to fit.


Time went by and the little son grew up. He grew up and began to seek a bride; he would like one girl, then another, but upon trying the ring he always found it to be too big or too small; it did not fit either the one or the other. He traveled and traveled through villages and cities, tried the ring on all the lovely maidens, but could not find one whom he could take as his betrothed; he returned home and was pensive and sad.

“Little brother, why are you grieving?” his sister asked him. He told her his trouble. “Why is the ring so troublesome?” said the sister. “Let me try it.” She put it on her finger and the ring clasped it, and began to gleam; it fitted her as though made to her size.

“Ah, my sister,” said the brother, “you have been chosen for me by fate, you shall be my wife.”

“What are you saying, my brother? Think of God, think of the sin; one does not marry one’s own sister.”

But the brother did not heed her; he danced for joy and ordered that preparations be made for the wedding. The sister burst into bitter tears, went out of her room, sat on the threshold, and wept and wept. Some old women passed by; she invited them in and offered them food and drink. They asked her what her grief was, why she was sad. It was of no use to hide it; she told them everything. “Weep not, grieve not,” said the old women, “but listen to us. Make four little dolls, seat them in four corners; when your brother calls you to your wedding, go; when he asks you to come to the bridal chamber, do not hurry. Put your hope in God. Farewell!”


The old women left. The brother wed his sister, went to the room, and said, “Sister Catherine, come to the featherbed.”

She answered, “I will come in a minute, only let me remove my earrings.” And the dolls in the four corners cried like cuckoos:

Cuckoo, Prince Danila,
Cuckoo, Govorila,
Cuckoo, he takes his sister,
Cuckoo, for a wife,
Cuckoo, earth open wide,
Cuckoo, sister, fall inside!

The earth began to open, the sister began to fall in. Her brother cried, “Sister Catherine, come to the featherbed!”

“Just a minute, my brother, I must remove my slippers.” The Dolls cuckooed, and she vanished into the earth.

The brother called her, he called her again in a louder voice, but she did not come. He ran to her room, banged at the door, and the door broke. He looked everywhere, but his sister was gone. Only the dolls were sitting in the corners and crying, “Earth, open wide! Sister, fall inside!” He seized an ax, cut off their heads, and threw them into the stove.

The sister walked and walked underground and then she saw a little hut on chicken legs, turning round and round. “Little hut, little hut,” she said, “stand the old way with your back to the woods and your front to me.” The little hut stood still and the door opened.

Inside sat a lovely maiden embroidering a towel with silver and gold. She received her guest with kindness, then sighed and said, “My little dove, my heart is glad to see you, I will welcome you and fondle your while my mother is out. But when she comes back there will be trouble for both of us, for she is a witch.”

The guest was frightened by these words, but she had nowhere to go, so she sat with her hostess at the embroidery frame, they embroidered the towel and talked together. After a long or a short time, when the hostess knew that her mother was about to come, she turned her guest into a needle, thrust the needle into a birch broom, and put the broom in a corner. She had no sooner done all this than the witch appeared at the door. “My good daughter, my comely daughter, I smell a human bone,” the witch said.

“Madam mother, passers-by came in to drink some water.”

“Why did you not keep them here?”

“They were old people, my mother, they would not have been to your liking.”

“Henceforth, mind you, invite all into the house, do not let anyone go; I will leave now and get some booty.”

She left; the maidens sat at the frame, and hastened to finish the embroidered towel. While working thus hurriedly they planned how to escape from their trouble and run away from the wicked witch. They had hardly had time to exchange a few whispers, when the witch (talk of the devil and he will appear) stood in the doorway, catching them by surprise. “My good daughter, my comely daughter, I smell a human bone!” she cried.


“There, my mother, a lovely maiden is awaiting for you,” said her daughter. The maiden looked at the witch and her heart failed her. Before her stood Baba Yaga the Bony-legged, her nose hitting the ceiling.

“My good daughter, my comely daughter, make a good hot fire in the stove,” said the witch. They brought wood, oak and maple, and made a fire; the flame blazed forth from the stove. The witch took a broad shovel and began to urge her guest, “Now, my beauty, sit on the shovel.”

The beauty sat on it. The witch shoved her toward the mouth of the stove, but the maiden put one leg into the stove and the other on top of it.
“You do not know how to sit, maiden. Now sit the right way,” said the witch.

The maiden changed her posture, sat the right way; the witch tried to shove her in, but she put one leg into the stove and the other under it.
The witch grew angry and pulled her out again. “You are playing tricks, young woman!” she said. “Sit quietly, this way – just see how I do it.”

She plumped herself on the shovel and stretched out her legs, and the two maidens quickly shoved her into the stove, locked her in, covered her up with logs, plastered and tarred the opening, and then ran away, taking the embroidered towel and a brush and comb with them.
They ran and ran, and looking back beheld the wicked witch; she had wrenched herself free, caught sight of them, and was hissing, “Hey, hey, hey, are you there?”

What could they do? They threw down the brush and there appeared a marsh thickly overgrown with reeds. The witch could not crawl through it, but she opened her claws, plucked out a path, and again came close. Where could they go? They threw down the comb, and there appeared a dark, thick forest: not even a fly could fly through it. The witch sharpened her teeth and set to work: each time she clamped her teeth she bit off a tree by its roots. She hurled the trees to one side, cleared a path, and again came close – very close.

The maiden ran and ran till they could run no longer; they had lost all their strength. They threw down the gold-embroidered towel, and there spear from them a sea, wide and deep, a sea of fire. They witch soared high; she wanted to fly across the sea, but fell into the fire and was burned.

The maidens remained alone, little doves with a home; they did not know where to go. They sat down to rest. A servant came to them and asked them who they were, then reported to his mater that in his domain sat not two little birds of passage but two marvelous beauties, one exactly like the other – they had the same brows, the same eyes.

“One of them,” said the servant, “must be your sister, but which of the two that is, it is impossible to guess.”

The master went to see hem and invited them to his home. He saw that his sister was there, but which of the two she was she could not guess – his servant had told the truth. She was angry and would not tell him herself. What could be done?

“This is what can be done, master,” said the servant. “I will fill a sheep’s bladder with blood, you will put it under your arm, and while you speak to your guests, I will come near you and strike you with a knife in your side; blood will flow and your sister will reveal herself.”

They did what they had planned; the servant struck his master in the side and blood gushed forth. The brother fell, the sister rushed to embrace him, and she cried and lamented, “My beloved, my dearest!” The brother jumped up, safe and sound, embraced his sister, and married her to a good man; and he himself married her friend, on whose finger the ring fitted, and all of them lived happily forever after.

Did you enjoy this fairy tale? If so, please share it with your friends and family. These beautiful stories deserve to be cherished for generations to come.

 What appealed you about this story? Did you have any questions about the characters or plot? I’d love to hear your feedback. Please leave a note for me in the comments section below.

 If you’d like to support this blog, please visit my shop. Paintings, prints and books are available for sale online. Thank you so much! 

Art Studio Space

Looking through storefront windows, I have often fantasized about having my own gallery space. It would have a huge work studio and a showroom displaying that work. I would like to imagine that there are many other artists who share my dreams. However, the reality is that studio space can be very expensive. And many artists can’t afford this luxury, especially if they are just starting out. It’s important to have a balance of income and expenses. Business expenses can add up quickly, and having a decked out studio is an unnecessary expense.

Luckily, there are more affordable studio options for artists. Many people work at home, share studio space with others, and even set up their easels outside. Depending on your needs, one of these options can be a great alternative. The ideal situation would be to have an art studio away from home. You would be able to make art without distraction, host potential buyers, and lead art classes. However, this may not be an option for everyone. And I don’t recommend leasing an independent studio space until you make enough profit from your art to afford it.

In Home Art Space

The benefit of having a studio in your home is that it’s free. The disadvantage is that there are constant distractions, like family, pets, neighbors, chores, and about a thousand other things. If you plan on having a home studio, make sure it is a space that is off limits. Even if it’s just a closet or a shed; set boundaries and let others know that when you’re working you can’t be distracted. Work on self-discipline, and don’t leave the studio during your work hours. You wouldn’t leave a regular office unless it was an emergency, it is the same with your studio space. Do yourself a favor, and take your art seriously.

Another benefit of this arrangement is that your home studio is tax deductible! You can write off your studio space as a business expense. However, it might be a challenge to show off your work to potential buyers, host events, or teach classes in your home. If you’re still debating this option, consider the most important factors and decide for yourself. There are also others options available such as shared studio space and painting plein air.

Shared Studio Space

This option is a happy medium if you’re not ready to have an independent art studio, but have difficulty working at home. You get the luxury of having a special place to make art away from home, and Scruffy the hamster will never get into the paints again! It’s obviously more expensive than working from home, but if you are willing to pay for it then there are many options available to you. Check your local classified ads, or ask around on social media to see if someone wants to share an art studio with you! The cost of rent can be greatly reduced when you are sharing the burden.

Plein Air Painting

If you’re looking for a free space, with lots of light, and plenty of inspiration. Look no further than the great outdoors. Plein air painting is the act of painting outdoors. You have the added spontaneity of your painting subjects constantly changing. Some of the challenges include the unexpected weather and strangers walking up to you while you’re working. If that sounds like the perfect day to you, then plein air painting could be your studio option. Many artist switch between painting outdoors and inside their studios – I would greatly recommend this options for you!

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Managing the Mess

When I was first starting out as a professional artist, one of the challenges I faced was trying to figure out how to manage my small studio space. I had art supplies floating around, boxes halfway unpacked, and papers stuffed everywhere. Not to mention the mess of the artwork itself? My paintings just sat around on the floor hoping not to be stepped on. This had to stop! Although some would argue that artists deal well in chaos and disorder, I just felt more stressed and confused than anything.

If you’ve found yourself in a similar situation, than the following tips might be helpful:

Keep Your Space Clean

It is essential that you keep your artist space clean. Again, I will mention that there are those out there that would prefer the chaos, but I have found a clean environment more efficient. You’ll have an easier time finding the supplies you need, and your artwork will have a clean space to be stored.

Store Supplies Neatly

Supplies should be stored in a closet, cabinet, or on shelves. It’s easier to keep them organized, and it saves you money in the long run because you can keep track of your inventory. In the past, I found that I would lose supplies and purchase additional ones I didn’t need because I wasn’t storing my supplies properly.

Organize Paperwork

You don’t have to file your paperwork every day, but it’s a good idea to keep it all in one place. I empty out my receipts and print out copies of online transactions every day. I place them all in proper folders and then go through accounting at the end of each month. If you don’t put all the paperwork in a place where you can find it, most likely it will get lost in the shuffle. You could lose money in the long run if you do not keep proper documentation of expenses for taxes.

Store Artwork Properly

Storing artwork should really be called its own form of art. I work with oils and I have noticed that they are quite finicky. I recommend storing wet paintings on a drying rack, dry paintings should be framed and shored with a plastic cover over the frame if the painting is not hanging up. I would also recommend covering prints with archival plastic bags so they don’t get damaged over time.

Create Calendar

I have no idea why I was so resistant to the idea of a calendar, but it took me a long time to finally embrace the calendar. Now I use one on my smartphone, and I have a physical calendar in my studio. The calendar is essential and it helps with staying organized, especially if you have a lot of artwork going in and out of your studio.

Hopefully these simple (often overlooked) tips can be a great start for anyone who is trying to reduce clutter in their studio space. Taking a day to clean out your art studio can be quite therapeutic. Why not give it a try?

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Finding Inspiration

When I was growing up, I couldn’t understand how being an immigrant was ever going to help me. I wanted to be like the other kids, and I felt bad because I didn’t fit in. I’ll admit it; I was in foreign, and having a language barrier made me stand out. Now that I have developed personally, and have had time to get to know myself, I have learned to love my culture and heritage. Not only do I get to enjoy the beautiful and prosperous country that I immigrated to, but I also get to explore and thrive in the rich culture of my origin country.

Over the years, I have become fond of incorporating my heritage into my art. It makes the art more interesting and relatable to people who enjoy exploring the uniqueness of other cultures. I am able to connect with people who have the same background as me. And I also meet people who want to learn more about Russian culture. It’s the best of both worlds. If you’re looking for some inspiration, I would recommend exploring your culture. If you’re not sure about your family history; then, do some research and see what you can find. Go back as far as you can, and then take some of those elements and incorporate them in your art.

Here are a few things I have taken away from the culture of my origin country:

Folk Art

Historically, folk art has been created for utilitarian purposes; such as, embroidery design, embellishment on dishware, and other household products. I have been able to take elements of folk art that inspired me and work them into my own style. My artwork may not be as utilitarian, but when I add the folk flavor to it, I am reminded of my culture.

Fairy Tales

Fairy tales are a piece of my heritage that have delighted me over the years. When I was a child in Russia, I remember the fairy tales my parents would read to me. Those stories resonated with me for years, and they inspired me to want to create my own art. I loved the illustrations that went with the fairy tale stories. I wanted to be able to take those fairy tales and make my own illustrations. Fairy tales still influence a part of my artwork. I can’t help but include folklore in my art because it is a huge part of my identity.

History

History can help shape art and perspective. I enjoy learning about the history of Russia and the influential people who helped mold it. When I make art that represents my people; I like to think about different elements of history. I like to imagine how I can incorporate it in incognito ways. I also like to learn about great artists from Russia, and I am constantly inspired by their work.

Think about how your history, culture, and heritage can help shape the art you create!

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Gallery Representation

Finding a gallery is one of the most difficult and intimidating tasks as an emerging artist. It’s like finding your first job: You can’t get work because you don’t have experience, but you can’t get experience without work. Galleries are looking for established artists, but it’s difficult to become established without the credibility of a gallery. In fact, if you were established… would you even need a gallery? If that were the case, you could sell your artwork directly.

When I was starting out, I had no idea where to look or how I would break into the gallery world. I had read some books and articles on the topic and felt intimidated about the amount of work that went into finding a gallery. So here are some lessons that I learned along the way. If you’re a new artist and would like to have a gallery represent your work, you can look for a gallery with a few different methods.

Fan Out and Go Big

You can try and cover as much space as possible. The idea is that you make a handful of brochures or literature packs and send them out to a bunch of galleries. Hopefully, a gallery will fall in love with your work by simply getting your literature in the mail. The risk is that you will not get a response, and end up spending a lot of postage and paper. As a frugal artist, I would not recommend this method because it’s more costly. However, if you have no other options, you can give it a try and see if it works for you.

Look Locally

As a new artist, it might be a good idea to try and get connected with the galleries in your area. Stop by the galleries in person and introduce yourself. Bring some of your work or at least a business card. If that seems too intimidating, you can try and call or email them to set up an appointment. I have been able to make my best connections over email. Through email, they can look at your work at their convenience, and if they are interested they will get a hold of you. No pressure!

If you don’t have luck finding a gallery right away, try showing your art to some local businesses (ex: coffee shop, bar, library). This will give you an opportunity to become more comfortable talking to people, and to have your art available to be seen by the public. You will also be able to mention those opportunities on your resume as you start to build up your appearances.

Search for Opportunities

Look for specific opportunities in your local community:  use art websites, local listings, and the news to seek out these chances. There may be galleries looking for participants in group shows or new galleries that need artists to fill the space. This can give you a chance to show off your work and get into a gallery through an unconventional way. Check out the local art resources in your area. You may have an arts community forum, or something similar that lists events.

Regardless of your methods, it’s important to keep trying. In the end, gallery representation is just a numbers game. The more people you reach, the better your chance of having gallery representation. Also, keep evolving your work. If a gallery isn’t interested in your particular style, they may change their minds as your evolve and grow as an artist.

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Artwork Maintenance

Whether you’re an artist or a collector, it’s important to know proper storage and care for your artwork. You may have accumulated a lot of art over the years and it’s starting to collect dust. Or you’ve noticed warping, cracking, or flaking on the art surface. Personally, I have experienced all of these things and now I want to share my storage secrets with you.

Wet Surface

If the artwork is not dry, store it flat and away from dust. Oil paintings take anywhere from 6 months to 2 years to dry fully. If your painting is framed, hang it up and do not touch it until it is dry. For artist who are working with many wet paintings, it is important to use a drying rack. Check out school supply websites. They often have large drying racks for wet paintings. It’s much easier to store all of the paintings flat on one drying rack than to lean them up again the wall or lay them on a floor.  If they are stored properly, they will collect less dust; which will help the integrity of the painting until it dries. Storing them flat or on a rack will also keep the art surface from warping.

Dry Surface

Artwork that dries completely within a relatively short period of time (ex: acrylic, watercolor, pencil) can be stored in archival sleeves (fancy plastic bags) to prevent dust and dirt. If the paintings are framed and hung up, periodic dusting should be sufficient, or the use of glass to cover the art.  However, if your paintings are being stored (especially in bulk) make sure to separate them out and cover them with archival bags.

For oil paintings, which take a long time to dry, I would not recommend putting them in archival bags. Rather, leave them to dry as long as possible on a drying rack and if they must be stored or transported, have them framed. Cover the front end of the frame with thick cardboard so that the oil doesn’t get damaged. Although oil may feel dry to the touch it can easily be damaged without proper storage and care. If the oil painting is framed, lightly dusting the surface with a microfiber cloth should do the trick.

Preventing Warping, Cracking, and Flaking

Although I have not noticed this as much in acrylic or watercolor, oil paints tends to act out while they are drying. I have learned about a process called oiling out that really helps to keep the paint in good shape. The process requires adding an additional layer of clear stand (or linseed) oil after the painting has dried to the touch. It also helps even out the shiny and dull parts of the painting. This techniques is only recommended for artists and should not be tried at home by art collectors. If you have purchased a painting and it starts to warp or crack – contact the artist.

Some artists prefer to cover their paintings with a clear sealer, but I do not recommend this method. The sealer can get sticky, dull, and discolored over time. It is best to leave the painting unsealed. Damage can be prevented by keeping art in cool and dry areas. Acrylic and watercolor painting need to be kept out of direct sunlight.

Dealing with Dust

It’s inevitable that you will have to deal with a lot of dust as an artist. If you are able to afford it, I would recommend getting an air purifier. It can help with dust and with toxins in the air from paint or other art mediums. If you are storing artwork and you notice dust collecting, use a microfiber cloth to wipe away the dust. I prefer getting a large pack from somewhere like Home Depot and using them as much as possible. I have noticed that normal cotton cloth and paper towels actually leave dust behind so I don’t recommend using them.

Storing Prints

If you have fine art prints, I suggest storing them in archival bags and keeping them organized in folders or in a shelving unit where you can access them easily. I tend to keep my prints in storage with temporary bags that may collect dust and then switch them out into fresh, crisp bags as they are sold and shipped. Clearbags.com has a great assortment of sizes for archival bags and at reasonable prices, especially if you buy in bulk.

Did you enjoy this article? Do you have someone in mind that could find this article useful? Please share it!  

 What appealed you about this article? Did you have any questions or comments? I’d love to hear your feedback. Please leave a note for me in the section below.

 If you’d like to support this blog, please visit my shop. Paintings, prints and books are available for sale online. Thank you so much! 

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