Persephone May'25
Persephone
From the founder
Summer, like Persephone herself, holds contradictions. It’s a season of abundance—ripe fruit, golden light, skin against skin—but also of stillness, drought, and longing. In myth, Persephone spends these months above ground, her return marking life’s bloom. And yet, the memory of the underworld never quite leaves her. Artists, too, capture this push and pull: between desire and distance, heat and hush. This edition is an ode to that tension—where sensuality meets quiet, and beauty lives in both presence and absence. May it remind you that even in fullness, there’s space to feel deeply.
From the editor
Dearest gentle readers,
In this issue of “Persephone”, we bring you what summer means to us! From the quiet politics of picnics to sun-soaked films, radiant paintings, and relevant songs, each piece captures a facet of the season’s creative spirit. Together, they reveal summer as more than a backdrop—it’s a mood, a memory, and a muse.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all our writers for their contributions and support. I hope you enjoy what we have crafted.
Picnics and Power:
Who Gets to Lounge in the Grass?
There’s something inherently romantic about a picnic scene in a painting. A cute woven basket, half-cut fruits, and linen dresses fluttering in the breeze—it's the kind of imagery that evokes leisure, laughter, and long summer afternoons. But when we take a closer look, these sunny, dreamy compositions often tell us a lot more than just the aesthetic of them. They subtly hint at power, politics, and who indeed gets to enjoy the summer heat. Picnics, in many classic artworks, are more than lazy Sunday outings. They're social markers, showing us who has the luxury of free time, public space, and the freedom and privilege to do nothing at all.
Let’s start with the painting - Édouard Manet’s “Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe” (1863). It caused quite a scandal when it first came out. Not just because of the nude woman seated among fully clothed men, but also because it blurred the lines between leisure, sexuality, and class. The woman, looking straight at the viewer, isn’t exactly the coy muse we’re used to. She challenges us.
A similar sense of such quiet confrontation exists in Amrita Sher-Gil’s “Three Girls” (1935). Though not a picnic scene, it plays with the idea of leisure, or the lack of it. The three women sit close to each other but seem emotionally distant, lost in their thoughts. There's no food or laughter, just the weight of stillness. Unlike the carefree women in European pastoral paintings, Sher-Gil’s subjects carry the invisible burden of social expectations and limited agency in a typical Indian patriarchal society. The question, thus, reinstates itself - Who truly gets to rest?
Even Raja Ravi Varma’s works, often opulent, full of grace and golden light, show women in serene, summer-like settings. But often, they’re painted in controlled, domestic environments; gardens within palaces or temple courtyards, and not public spaces. And so, even in beauty, the boundary remains clear.
Growing up. I remember seeing Bollywood picnic song reruns such as “Aaj Kal Tere Mere Pyaar Ke Charche” or scenes from films like “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.” These scenes were more than just montages of a sultry summer. Picnics symbolised an ideal of modernity, westernization, and a life in which people had time and means to enjoy nature without worrying about toil or space. In contrast, if you drive past rural India during peak summer, you’ll rarely spot someone lounging in the grass. The grass is often gone, scorched. And those who sit in the fields do so after labour, not leisure. This is where art, cinema, and lived reality sharply diverge.
And yet, there’s something deeply human about wanting to gather under a tree with loved ones, sharing food and laughter. Maybe that’s why artists across centuries return to the theme of summer gatherings. They’re not just about privilege but about the longing for simplicity, connection, and pause.
The harder the rain,
The sweeter the sun
It was 2019 when one of my friends recommended me to listen to “Someone new” by this artist named Hozier. My first impression was “Oh cool! His name starts with ‘H’ (and mine does too).” I played the song and I was instantly hooked by his music and voice, of course! I remember I listened to almost everything he had composed by then. Since the release of his first single “Cherry Wine” on July 3, 2014, Andrew Hozier-Byrne has been blessing music lovers and all with his artistry. Byrne, who goes by his middle name, Hozier, was born in the folk roots of Bray, Ireland, on March 17, 1990. He has accrued an enormous fan base, largely credited to his heart-wrenchingly beautiful lyrics and charismatic personality. Hozier, famous for his songs like “Take Me To Church” and, more recently, “Too Sweet”, combines intricately written lyrics and enthralling tunes into thought-out messages.
When the newsletter team decided that we were going to be doing something summer special for our latest edition of “Persephone”, Hozier was playing in the background and I knew I had to work on how art, music and sunlight coalesce time and again. Sunlight as a metaphor is almost every artist’s favourite thing to employ, often to represent something personal to them but it ends up deeply resonating with our emotions as well.
Hozier frequently employs sunlight to represent the intense and transformative nature of love. In his verse “Sunlight", he masterfully weaves together a tale of love and sacrifice, drawing from Icarus’ tragic fate. For those unfamiliar with the Greek myth, Icarus and his father, Daedalus, create makeshift wings with wax to escape a desolate island. Their plan is successful, and both Icarus and Daedalus fly off the island. Icarus, despite his father’s warning, becomes overcome with confidence and flies higher, nearing the sun. The heat melts his wax wings, and he falls into the sea, drowning.
In the song, Hozier juxtaposes the serenity of moonlight with the overwhelming allure of sunlight, suggesting a willingness to forsake comfort for passionate love. He writes, “But whose heart would not take flight? / Betray the moon as acolyte / On first and fierce affirming sight / Of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.” It’s about love and the pain that comes with it, the pain you willingly seek out and endure. Therefore he writes, ““Know that I would gladly be / The Icarus to your certainty.”
“I had been lost to you, sunlight / Flew like a moth to you, sunlight”—these lines forged in my heart something absolutely inexplicable, a poignant feeling while suggesting the age-old trope of the moth drawn to a flame. Something similar to Kishore Kumar’s
“शमा कहे परवाने से परे चला जा
मेरी तरह जल जाएगा, यहाँ नहीं आ
वो नहीं सुनता, उसको जल जाना होता है
हर खुशी से, हर ग़म से, बेगाना होता है”
Through such imagery, the songs highlight the randomness of love, the inescapable, almost predestined pull of one’s affection towards another, no matter what risks lay ahead. Realising that love can bring light and peace but can burn and stay unattainable and still falling for it, is nothing less short of an art. Thus, “to love is to risk obliteration.”
In“Take Me to Church, Hozier continues this theme, likening his lover to sunlight and exploring love as a form of spiritual devotion, “If I’m a pagan of the good times / My lover’s the sunlight.” These lyrics reflect Hozier’s view of love as both illuminating and consuming, capable of profound joy and deep vulnerability. Again in “No Plan”, he proposes, “There’s no plan, there’s no race to be run/ The harder the rain, honey the sweeter the sun.” Here the rain is harsh, the sun is sweet!
While the theme of sunlight is intricately woven into his lyrics, it is visually complemented by the artwork of his mother, Raine Hozier-Byrne, who designs his album covers. When I first came to know about this, I was amazed! Raine Hozier Bryne is an extraordinary artist. Lorraine ”Raine” Hozier-Byrne holds a Masters in Art and has had her work exhibited in Ireland, Tokyo, Beijing, Seoul, London and Paris. Don’t we just love it when artists nurture artists?!
She has designed the covers for his albums, including the evocative underwater image for “Wasteland, Baby!” This particular cover, featuring Hozier submerged, symbolizes themes of immersion and introspection that parallel the album’s exploration of love and existentialism. Hozier has shared that his mother’s artwork is integral to his musical identity. If you take a close look at the painting, you’ll notice how prominent sunlight is, even underwater! The subtle play of light, reflection and shadows is what makes the painting so appealing, illuminating.
The cover art of Hozier’s self-titled debut album is composed of deconstructed elements of contemporary media images with no face. It was the deal he made with his mom. “Do the artwork, leave my face off of it.” The work explores subjectivity while the background shows a warm-toned interior with a spiral staircase, a clock, and vintage objects, creating an intimate atmosphere. One can even see sunlight pouring from the windows of the room. Their collaboration underscores a familial synergy where visual art and music coalesce, enriching the emotional depth of Hozier’s work.
Raine’s artistry not only complements the lyrical content but also provides a visual narrative that enhances the listener’s experience. Isn’t it simply wonderful? The way naturre inspires art in every form. Be it stars for Van Gogh, the lakes for Wordsworth and sunlight for Hozier, nature will always find a way to your heart if you allow yourself to see it!
Through the Summer Land of Ghibli
The rising mercury levels make it hard to romanticise a season as tormenting as summers, but Studio Ghibli films hope to make it a lot more bearable. With Cicada’s rhythmic buzzing, the tinkling of the wind chimes and the vast spread of lush greenery against a cloud speckled blue sky, a number of Studio Ghibli films manage to create the perfect backdrop for an exciting summer adventure. Whether it be a coastal town, a far-off village in the countryside or a suburban retreat, summers in the Studio Ghibli realm arrive as a season of growth, transformation and bonding sprinkled with a sense of nostalgia and magical realism.
As the characters arrive at their summer retreat filled with wonder and hope, we too are taken back to our summer getaways, whether it be our grandparent’s sweet abode or a far-off city unexplored. With this nostalgia, our limitless imagination returns, allowing us to immerse in the character’s life to the point of actually running on ocean waves like Ponyo (Ponyo), being hit by the sea breeze as Kiki flies out for another delivery (Kiki’s Delivery Service) and bonding with exotic nature spirits like Totoro with Mei (My Neighbour Totoro).
However, the occurrence of these magical elements during summer time isn’t coincidental in Hayao Miyazaki’s work. The Japanese believe that the barrier between the real world and the spirit world is weakest during summers, making the chances of a crossover high. This explains why Anna was able to meet Marnie during her summer holidays (When Marnie was There), how Chihiro was so easily transported to the spirit world (Spirited Away) and why Mei and Satsuki were able to meet so many nature spirits as they shift to the countryside (My Neighbour Totoro). The festivals to honour these spirits are also beautifully portrayed in the movies, especially Spirited Away, where uncanny spirits walk to life during the Hyakki Yagyo, the spirit procession.
Apart from the different varieties of festivals, the Ghibli Summer is also marked by indulgence in creative endeavours, exploring nature and bonding with the community. In Kiki’s Delivery Service we see Tombo’s ambition for flying and making his own flying machine. Then there is Ursula, who loves to paint, seeking inspiration from the forest she lives in alone. Anna’s uncle in When Marnie was there is often seen carving various figures out of wood, while her aunt is engaged in gardening. At one point Anna and Marnie also go for Mushroom hunting in the forest and have a picnic on the marshes. As Sho and Arrietty enjoy the suburban flowery meadow in The Secret World of Arrietty, the true magic flowing through the hands of Ghibli’s animators can be easily realised. Being a bit too good at bringing forth the details, the warm colour palette with an overemphasis on greens, blues and yellows by the animators further enhances the films’ summer appeal.
This beautiful setting is saturated with an end number of scenes celebrating the wholesome connections the protagonist forms during their journey of self-discovery. Kiki was able to set up a successful delivery service in an unknown town only because of Osono who lets her rent one of her rooms in return for helping out in the bakery (Kiki’s Delivery Service). Anna wouldn’t have been able to emerge out of her depression, had it not been for her uncle and aunt’s patience and the locals from the coastal town who constantly make an effort to befriend her and help her out (When Marnie was There).
The last ingredient Studio Ghibli exploits to evoke the perfect summer vibe is its characters’ attires. From flowy dresses to brightly coloured, airy T-shirts paired with summer shorts, Ghibli has managed to produce some memorable dress combos for Cosplay lovers. Kiki’s red bow paired with a black dress (Kiki’s Delivery Service) and Arrietty’s crimson dress with brown boots (The Secret World of Arrietty) are one of their many gems.
Through the summer motifs of children’s joyous laughter, straw hats, watermelons, fireflies and drifting boats, Studio Ghibli fills its viewers with feelings of both rejuvenation and wistfulness, leaving us awestruck at the quiet magic of every cut. As the days grow long and the air turns still, there is no better companion than a Ghibli film to remind us to slow down, look closer, and let a little wonder in.
Summer is an Emotions
Summer demands to be felt. And Indian summers are particularly punishing. But somehow, it brings a myriad of its own unique experiences that are etched indelibly in my heart and mind forever. It arrives not just with heat, but with specific colours, textures, rhythms and nostalgic rituals. It lives in my eyes—not just as a season that announces its arrival every year but more as a feeling and as a deeply personal visual archive.
Summer begins for me, not with a date on the calendar, but with the sight of neatly stacked yellow gorgeous mangoes on the carts of vendors at the local market. Mangoes ARE summer in my world: I wait all year for this—counting down to the time when crates of mangoes take over the kitchen, waiting to be pickled, juiced, churned into desserts or eaten messily (the only way to eat it right). It spreads like a mood across our home and our little nuclear family gathers around the plate of freshly cut mangoes, fighting over who gets the perfect slice and exchanging verdicts on each new batch: too sour, too pale: perfectly ripe etc. The mango tree has always been a symbol of fertility, community and seasonal rhythm and this golden fruit has always been immortalised in numerous miniature paintings.
My senses inform me that summer has arrived. The sunrises and sunsets look more magnanimous even when the heat scorches my skin. I anticipate the ice golas and the sherbets like a little child again, all colourful and soothing in contrast to the nuisance of the humidity. The arrival of the Kalbaishakhi is welcome as I watch the storm rage from the comfort of my veranda, making the trees sway and bend like depicted in paintings. The blurry vision induced by the impossible heat is punctuated by colourful pretty summery dresses, the vibrant patterned kurtis and the chic cotton sarees in Ikkat, in Kalamkari, in Bandhani and various other traditional Indian textiles.
Summer and what it signifies to me has evolved over time. As a young student, my heart would wait for that long summer vacation, a lovely respite from exhausting hours at school in the heat. Yet somehow I always found a renewed energy to go play gully cricket with my neighbourhood friends, after which we collectively rewarded ourselves with ice creams and Frooti. Then the young adult years brought with them new aspirations. We grew up watching films like Dil Chahta Hai and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and fantasized about a Goa trip with friends in the summer heat soaked in possibilities. And the endless planning never amounted to anything. Slowly, summer changed shape again. The vacations became fewer, life got more real. Summer afternoons gave way to a lethargic, languid and melancholic vibe, like in the painting "The Siesta" by Van Gogh. The hum of the fan acts as a kind of lullaby, an invitation for a much needed pause only a privileged few can afford— a fleeting permission to rest, to wander inward, to dream, not of elsewhere, but of stillness and to allow myself the joy of slumber.