Our Spirit Animals. Or How a Leopard Became My Therapist.

Art Story #18

Did you have those questionnaire diaries in school—the ones you’d pass around with your classmates, asking everything from “your first crush” to “your favorite food”? The question I always stumbled on was: What’s your animal?

Back then, I had no idea. Now? I know exactly who I feel like. But we’ll get to that.

There’s something primal—almost mystical—about animal energy. Animals are used for healing with their expansive presence. They can sense human emotion and offer support (think of a dog). They can serve as spirit guides—an idea stretching from ancient totems to New Age spirituality, where it’s rooted in personal growth through intuition, self-exploration, and connection to the universe. An animal spirit helps us overcome challenges and embody our values.

And of course, a bunch of artists have embraced this energy. Get ready. This is going to get a little wild.

The Rule Breaker on a Horse: Leonora Carrington

Leonora Carrington didn’t just break the rules—she set them on fire.
She was expelled from four schools and labeled “uneducable,” only to later become a painter, writer, and political voice who portrayed human-animal hybrids—exploring the limits of imagination and her own dark metamorphoses.

Her parents once sent her to London’s upper-crust (read: horse-owners) debutante ball, where girls from wealthy families were “presented” to society to marry—a kind of 1930s version of your parents swiping Tinder for you.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

Instead, she chose art school and soon set fire to the rulebook—and to her father’s patience—by falling in love with surrealist Max Ernst (who was 46, married, and apparently… worth the scandal). Her father called Ernst’s art “pornographic.” So they fled to Paris and dove into the surrealist scene, which was at its height.

Her first major painting, The Inn of the Dawn Horse, depicts her alongside several animals—especially horses, referencing a Celtic goddess who rode a white stallion as a symbol of freedom. There’s also a hyena, with whom she swapped eyes—an embrace of raw animal energy.

“I’m like a hyena. I get into the garbage cans. I have an insatiable curiosity.”

Leonora Carrington - The Inn of the Dawn Horse, 1937-38 (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY)

Unlike her male peers, who drew from erotic subconscious imagery, Carrington sourced her surrealism from mythology and the occult. She believed we can’t rationally explain the human experience.
Magic, to her, was a spiritual worldview and a way to resist authority.

(Oh, and a [not so] fun twist? Her first painting was purchased by Peggy Guggenheim in 1939—who went on to marry Max Ernst two years later. Art world drama, 10/10.)

The Power of a Cow: Rosa Bonheur

A century earlier, Rosa Bonheur was another rebellious spirit. To help her concentrate, her mother taught her the alphabet by having her draw an animal for each letter. She never stopped. She later studied veterinary science to become a master of animal anatomy, and channeled her deep connection with animals into masterful, lifelike art.

While Carrington studied animals in zoos, Bonheur went straight to the field.
For her best-known work, The Horse Fair (1855), she wanted to observe a real horse market—but women weren’t welcome. So she applied for police permission to wear men’s clothes in order to work. Back then, wearing pants was illegal without a permit. Thankfully, she got one.

Look at her self-portrait, and you’ll notice something striking: While most women in 19th-century paintings are shown side-saddled on horses (a symbol of power and social status) or posed with lapdogs (symbols of gentility and fidelity), Bonheur painted herself with… a cow. That’s bold. That’s real power.

Thankfully, her work was recognized—she later became the first woman to receive the French Legion of Honor—in a time when women weren’t even welcome at most galleries.

Rosa Bonher (painted the bull) and Édouard Dubufe (painted Rosa) - Portrait of Rosa Bonheur, 1857 (Château de Versailles)

So… What’s My Animal?

A few weekends ago, during a long field walk somewhere in Brandenburg, I was talking through what I’m doing here—chasing the places where art and life collide to give answers and illuminate what words alone can’t. And then, the leopard crept in.

Why the leopard? Because daring, elegance, and instinct are the pillars I (try to) live by. Because masterpieces aren’t made by playing it safe. Because when I put on that leopard jacket, it feels like a second skin.

And the brushstroke? Because personality is like a brushstroke—fluid, creative, hard to define, and nearly impossible to fit into neat boxes without losing its magic. Because honestly, I feel like Manet feels me more than a podcast bro does—and I trust him more, too.

Now, this spotted creature sits at the corner of everything I write. Maybe that’s what this whole project is really about: Living a little more instinctively. Writing with elegance—but without fear. Daring to show my spots, even when they feel like too much. Are you ready for more?

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