Halloween
DESCRIPTION:
Halloween: Witches, art history & psychoanalysis. A look at ghosts, devils, Samhain and Celtic roots. What is the spiritual significance behind this custom?
Halloween and the art history of witches: From the Celtic ritual of Samhain to modern repression
What is the psychological basis for our Halloween fears? From a depth psychological perspective, Halloween allows us to deal with repressed fears of death, the unknown and female power in a controlled, "safe" way. The classic Halloween symbols – flying witches, black cats, bubbling cauldrons – are not random folkloric elements but represent archetypal fears deeply rooted in our collective unconscious.
Particularly revealing is the realisation that our modern conception of the Halloween witch does not originate in pagan traditions or folk beliefs, but rather in 15th-century Christian propaganda. Heinrich Nider's 1437 work Formicarius created the first systematic and academically legitimised image of the devil-worshipping witch in European literature. This book became the blueprint for later witch hunts and directly influenced the infamous Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches) of 1487.
The transformation of these tools of persecution into harmless entertainment demonstrates a classic Freudian defence mechanism. Instead of confronting the real horror of witch hunts – an estimated 100,000 trials and 60,000 executions in Europe alone – our culture has transformed their symbolism into consumable entertainment. Halloween has thus become a way of culturally processing supernatural fears without honestly acknowledging the brutal human cost behind these symbols.
What it's about:
· Psychology and art history
· How the figure of the witch became our Halloween symbol, from Celtic Samhain rituals to medieval persecution to the dark paintings of Goya and the mystical imagery of the 19th century.
· Why artists have been fascinated by the naked witch on her goat for centuries, and
· What unconscious mechanisms lie behind this cultural obsession?
A fascinating journey through art history, psychology and the dark caves of the collective unconscious.
What connects the Celtic Samhain with modern Halloween witches?
The roots of Halloween go back to the Celtic festival of Samhain, which was celebrated on the evening of 31st October. Samhain marked the transition from the light to the dark season, the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. The Celts believed that on this night, the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead became particularly thin, allowing ghosts and departed souls to return. This spiritual festival was not a spooky horror, but a complex ritual to honour the dead and prepare for the dark season.
The original Samhain had little to do with the witch as we know it today. The Celtic priests, the Druids, led ceremonial fires to honour the deity of the dark season. People dressed up in animal skins to protect themselves from evil spirits. These pagan practices were later demonised as heretical and dangerous by the Christian Church from the very beginning. By the Middle Ages at the latest, the systematic reinterpretation of these folk traditions into something satanic began—a process that brought forth the witch as a central figure.
The connection between Samhain and the modern Halloween witch is therefore paradoxical: an originally spiritual Celtic festival honouring the ancestors was transformed into a symbol of evil through centuries of Christian oppression. The witch as we portray her at Halloween – flying on a broomstick, with a black cat and a bubbling cauldron – is not Celtic, but a medieval invention. Nevertheless, our Halloween iconography combines both traditions: the mystical crossing of boundaries at Samhain and the dangerous magic of the Christian-constructed witch.
How did art history shape our image of the eerily beautiful witch?
The artistic representation of the witch underwent a fascinating transformation from the Middle Ages to the modern era. Early medieval illustrations depicted witches as ugly, old women – a deliberate strategy to demonise female power and sexuality. But as early as the 15th century, parallel to the emergence of Nider's Formicarius, an ambivalent artistic development began: witches were increasingly portrayed as young, naked and sexually threatening.
This duality – the witch as both repulsive and attractive – reflected male fantasies and fears. Artists of the 16th and 17th centuries created works that were supposedly moral warnings, but in fact legitimised voyeuristic glances at naked female bodies. The witch at the witches' sabbath, dancing with a demon or the devil, often riding a goat, became a popular motif. This imagery allowed sexualised female bodies to be shown while at the same time claiming to denounce evil.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, the artistic obsession with witches reached its peak. Romanticism rediscovered the mystical and supernatural, but from an aesthetic rather than a religious perspective. Artists such as Goya, Gustave Doré and others created works that placed witches somewhere between horror and fascination. Their paintings no longer served as moral warnings but explored the dark corners of the human psyche. Art history transformed witches from objects of persecution into magical figures that inspired both fear and admiration.
What do Goya's dark depictions of witches reveal about collective fears?
In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Francisco de Goya created some of the most psychologically powerful depictions of witches in art history. His famous painting "El aquelarre" (The Witches' Sabbath) from 1798 depicts a gathering of witches worshipping a giant, goat-like devil. Unlike earlier moralising depictions, Goya brought a disturbing psychological depth to his witch paintings. His witches are neither simply evil nor seductive – they are projections of human abysses.
Goya lived in a time of massive social upheaval in Spain. The Inquisition was losing power, but superstition and fear of the supernatural remained deeply ingrained in the population. His witch paintings functioned as a critique of religious fanaticism and, at the same time, as an exploration of the dark side of human nature. The gloomy, grotesque figures in his works represent not only witches, but the horrors of which humans are capable when driven by hysteria and fear.
Particularly noteworthy is Goya's depiction of the pact with the devil as a metaphor for human self-destruction. His witches sacrifice an infant to the devil – a scene that visualises medieval witch accusations, but can also be read as a symbol of a society destroying its own future. Goya used the imagery of witchcraft to express more profound psychological and social truths. His works show how art history not only documents, but also interprets and critiques.
What role do mystical symbols play in the depiction of witches?
The artistic representation of witches has followed recurring symbols over the centuries that carry complex magical and psychological meanings. The witch's cauldron represents change – in it, ingredients are transformed into potions, and the ordinary becomes magical. Psychoanalytically, the cauldron can be read as a symbol of the womb, underscoring the patriarchal fear of female creative power.
The black cat, now a harmless Halloween symbol, had a sinister meaning in medieval mythology. Cats were considered the witches' familiars, sometimes transformed spirits or demons. In art history, they often appear alongside depicted witches as markers of the occult. The goat, particularly prominent in depictions of witches' sabbaths, symbolises lust and paganism – and thus becomes a representation of the devil himself.
Skeletons and corpses frequently appear in artistic depictions of witches, especially in the tradition of late medieval "dances of death." These motifs associate witches with death and the supernatural. The veil that separates the world of the living and the world of the dead in Samhain myths is often depicted as a misty background, positioning the witch in a liminal, ghostly sphere. These symbols created a coherent visual language that functioned across national and temporal boundaries.
How did Gustave Doré transform the witch into a romantic figure?
Gustave Doré, the great 19th-century French illustrator, brought a new aesthetic dimension to the depiction of witches and supernatural beings. His illustrations for literary works – from Dante's Inferno to fairy tales – depicted magical and mystical scenes with a dramatic, almost theatrical quality. Doré transformed the witch from a moral warning into a figure of aesthetic fascination.
In Doré's work, the boundary between ghost, witch and mystical vision becomes fluid. His use of light and shadow creates an atmosphere of mystery in which the supernatural appears fascinating rather than repulsive. This romantic transformation of the witch was crucial to her later commercialisation. Doré and other Romantic artists made it culturally acceptable to be fascinated by the dark side without compromising one's morals.
The artistic evolution from Goya to Gustave marks a significant shift: the witch is transformed from an object of fear into one of aesthetic contemplation. This shift ultimately allowed the witch to become a Halloween symbol—a process that eventually completely obscured the original violence and trauma of the witch hunts. Art history played a central role in transforming the witch from a real threat into a consumable fantasy figure.
Why did the naked witch become a recurring motif in art history?
The depiction of the naked witch is one of the most fascinating and problematic motifs in European art history. From Hans Baldung Grien in the 16th century to the Symbolists of the late 19th century, artists repeatedly depicted naked female bodies in the context of witchcraft and magic. Officially, these depictions served as a moral warning – nudity signalled the shamelessness and sexual depravity of the witch.
In reality, however, these images served a very different purpose: they legitimised the male voyeuristic gaze on female bodies under the guise of religious or moral instruction. The naked witch performing rituals or attending witches' sabbaths could be depicted and viewed artistically because she supposedly represented evil. This hypocrisy reveals the deep-rooted connection between sexuality, power and fear in patriarchal societies.
From a psychoanalytical perspective, the naked witch represents the male projection of repressed sexual desires onto "evil". By portraying female sexuality as demonic, occult and dangerous, men were able to externalise their own sexual fantasies while claiming moral superiority. Art history thus documents not only aesthetic developments, but also the history of male fear and obsession with female sexuality.
What does Halloween reveal about our repression of historical violence?
Halloween functions as a cultural repression mechanism par excellence. The transformation of instruments of persecution – the dangerous witch who had to be burned – into harmless decorations and costumes shows how societies deal with uncomfortable historical truths. Instead of mourning the real victims of witch hunts or learning from this history of systematic violence against women, we consume sanitised versions of these traumas.
This repression is psychologically fascinating because it shows how capitalism functions as a mechanism for neutralising historical guilt. When witch costumes become a multi-billion dollar industry, the 60,000 murdered women systematically disappear from our collective consciousness. Commercialisation transforms historical trauma into profit and robs symbols of their critical meaning. Halloween becomes a festival where we play with the tools of oppression without understanding their meaning.
From a psychodynamic perspective, this societal repression impedes critical collective learning. As long as we view Halloween as harmless fun, we overlook the psychological mechanisms – projection, splitting, scapegoating – that led to systematic persecution. Without this understanding, we remain vulnerable to similar patterns in modern contexts. Consciously engaging with the dark historical roots of Halloween, on the other hand, could help to break these patterns.
How did Heinrich Nider shape the figure of the witch for centuries?
Heinrich Nider's "Formicarius" from 1437 was the first systematic theological work to define the witch as an organised threat. Before Nider, "witches" were local healers without a coherent ideology. After his influential work, they became members of a satanic conspiracy. Nider combined folk legends with theological authority, creating a framework that was both intellectually convincing and emotionally mobilising.
The psychodynamic mechanisms behind Nider's success are crucial to understanding mass hysteria in general. He wrote in an era of massive uncertainty – the 15th century saw competing popes, the aftermath of the plague, and the collapse of traditional authorities. People demanded explanations for their suffering. Nider offered them a scapegoat: the witch, who had allegedly made a pact with the devil and was responsible for all of society's problems.
The tragic irony lies in the fact that Nider wanted to reform the Church and improve spiritual leadership – noble goals indeed. But his reliance on fear as a motivator underestimated the destructive forces he unleashed. His detailed descriptions of witchcraft rituals – flying on animals, worshipping the devil, sacrificing children – became the template for countless persecutions. The Formicarius shows how good intentions without psychological self-reflection can lead to disastrous results.
What is the connection between myths, legends and modern representations of witches?
The modern figure of the witch is a palimpsest of different cultural layers. Celtic myths about the permeable boundary between the spirit world at Samhain, Christian demonisation of pagan practices, medieval horror stories, and the romantic aestheticisation of the mystical – all these elements merged to create today's Halloween witch. This cultural bricolage is what makes the witch so psychologically powerful: she activates multiple archetypal fears and fascinations simultaneously.
Originally, folk legends about wise women with healing powers were transformed by church propaganda into stories about dangerous sorceresses. These myths fulfilled specific psychological functions: they externalised social fears, offered explanations for the inexplicable and justified social control. In the 19th century, artists and writers rediscovered these myths, but from an aesthetic rather than a religious perspective. The witch became a symbol of the mystical, the forbidden and the romantic.
Halloween, as a modern festival, synthesises all these layers. When children dress up as witches, they unconsciously activate millennia-old myths about the transition between life and death, centuries-old fears of female power and modern commercial fantasies. This complexity makes Halloween a fascinating subject of study for psychologists, historians and cultural scientists. The witch is not a simple figure, but a complex, layered symbol that carries multiple cultural traumas and longings.
What can we learn about social projections from art history?
The art history of witch depictions reveals how societies project their fears, desires and feelings of guilt onto marginalised groups. The evolution of witch depictions – from medieval warning images to Goya's psychological explorations to romantic aestheticisations – documents not only stylistic changes, but also fundamental changes in society's approach to fear and otherness.
Particularly revealing is the observation that artistic representations of witches became more intense as real persecutions subsided. In the 18th and 19th centuries, when witch trials largely came to an end, the artistic obsession with witch motifs reached its peak. This demonstrates a classic repression mechanism: real violence was transformed into aesthetic contemplation, allowing society to come to terms with its actions without taking real responsibility.
This analysis offers essential insights for modern therapists and psychologists. The way cultures deal with symbols such as witches reveals unconscious collective processes. By understanding how historical societies projected their fears, we can recognise similar mechanisms in our own time – from social media shitstorms to modern conspiracy theories. Art history thus becomes a diagnostic tool for social psychology.
How does understanding Samhain and witch history help with cultural healing?
Consciously engaging with the whole history – from Samhain to witch hunts to Halloween – offers therapeutic potential at the individual and collective levels. For women, understanding that negative stereotypes are not natural but systematically constructed can be profoundly liberating. It enables the recognition and overcoming of internalised misogyny that has been deeply ingrained through centuries of conditioning.
On a societal level, this historical reappraisal can help break destructive patterns. The mechanisms that led to witch hunts – projection, division, belief in authority – are clearly recognisable in modern phenomena such as cyberbullying, political polarisation and conspiracy theories. By understanding how "normal" people became capable of systematic cruelty, we can recognise similar processes today and resist them.
Understanding the original spiritual meaning of Samhain – a ritual of respect for nature, the seasons and the deceased – also offers an alternative to the commercialised version of Halloween. A conscious redesign of the festival could create space for genuine engagement with death, transition, and collective history, rather than just superficial, spooky fun. This form of cultural healing requires education, reflection and a willingness to acknowledge uncomfortable historical truths.
The most important thing
· From Samhain to Halloween: The originally spiritual Celtic festival honouring the dead was transformed by Christian demonisation into the spooky Halloween, with the witch becoming the central figure.
· Art history as a projection screen: The artistic representation of the witch over the centuries reveals male fears of female sexuality, power, and autonomy—from medieval warning images to Goya's psychological masterpieces.
· The naked witch as hypocrisy: Artistic depictions of naked witches officially served as moral warnings, but in fact legitimised voyeuristic glances and the externalisation of male sexual fantasies.
· Goya as a cultural critic: Francisco de Goya's dark depictions of witches not only criticised superstition, but also explored the human capacity for cruelty and self-destruction.
· The symbolic language of the witch: Cauldrons, black cats, goats, skeletons and veils are not random symbols, but a complex system of signs that encode fears of change, death and the supernatural.
· Nider's fateful legacy: The "Formicarius" of 1437 transformed local healers into an organised satanic threat, laying the foundation for over 60,000 executions.
· Commercialisation as repression: Halloween decorations and costumes transform historical traumas into profit and prevent genuine engagement with the mechanisms of systematic violence against women.
· Myths and cultural layers: The modern Halloween witch is a palimpsest of Celtic myths, Christian propaganda, medieval legends and romantic aesthetics.
· Romantic transformation: In the 19th century, artists such as Gustave Doré transformed the witch from an object of fear into an object of aesthetic fascination – a prerequisite for her later commercialisation.
· Preventive education: Understanding the psychological mechanisms behind witch hunts – projection, mass hysteria, scapegoating – can immunise us against similar patterns in modern conspiracy theories and social media hysteria.
· Cultural healing through awareness: Consciously engaging with the complete history of Samhain, witch hunts, and Halloween enables individual and collective healing processes and the recovery of spiritual meaning.
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