Have you ever heard of the saying, “Don’t fly too close to the sun”?
I’m sure you have, at least once in your life, and I’m sure that, although you may not know all of Greek history, you certainly have heard about the name Icarus. The myth of Icarus is, in fact, one of the most enduring and evocative tales from Greek mythology. It’s a story that has literally transcended time and culture, becoming a well-known metaphor for human ambition, creativity, recklessness, and the fine line between triumph and catastrophe.
It is primarily known from ancient sources like Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Apollodorus’s Bibliotheca, but this highly beloved myth continues to resonate deeply and exist in art, literature, and even psychology. I honestly think there are way more people who adore this tale than we imagine.
So, the question is… why?
Let’s start with the myth.
Soaring high above Crete on wings made from wax and feathers, this story tells of Icarus, son of Daedalus, a brave (or foolish) boy who, in the attempt of freedom, defied the laws of both man and nature. But before we can focus on his figure, we need to go back in time. A time before Icarus was even born.
In every version of the tale, Daedalus is always highly regarded as a genius inventor, a craftsman, and a great sculptor. So much so that his reputation precedes him even outside his homeland of Athens. It is said that he invented carpentry and all the tools used for it, the first bathhouse, and even the first dance floor. Truly a man of many quirks and ideas. The thing about Daedalus, however, is that in the myth he’s not only regarded as a genius but especially as an egotistical and jealous man. In fact, if we’re trying to pinpoint exactly where the doomed tale of Icarus begins, I would say that the genesis happened right when Daedalus attempted to murder his nephew.
You read that right.
It is unclear whether he actually managed to kill him; however, like I already said, Daedalus was a selfish man who feared his nephew’s brilliant inventions and the loss of his fame. But if there’s anything we know about Greek mythology, it’s that both man and gods were not at all forgiving, and punishment for spilling family blood was extremely severe. Now, in some interpretations Daedalus flees from Athens; in others he is exiled. Either way, he arrives in Crete with his young son, Icarus, the place where the boy will learn to fly and meet his death.
At first Daedalus is welcomed with open arms by Crete’s King, Minos, and is even chosen as the palace technical advisor. You would think that a man would learn from his mistakes and avoid pushing the boundaries, but no… Daedalus was a man who loved to defy nature. Therefore, even in Crete, with every new creation, he kept challenging the human limitations that had so far kept mortals separate from gods. Until, finally, one day he finally broke right through.
I’m going to warn you… this is where it gets pretty weird.
King Minos’s wife, Pasiphaë, was an unfortunate woman. She had been cursed by the god Poseidon to fall in love with her husband’s prized bull, and, under this spell, she asked Daedalus to help her seduce it (yep, as strange as it sounds, you read that right). As usual, with the thrill of a new challenge, Daedalus didn’t back down and agreed to help her. I won’t go into details; however, you can figure out what happened, for Pasiphaë got pregnant and then gave birth to the infamous Minotaur—a creature half human and half bull. Now, this is where it gets a little bit complicated.
Daedalus is instructed to build a great labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur; however, it’s either because of such perversion of natural law or because Daedalus helped Theseus escape the labyrinth that King Minos decided to imprison both Daedalus and Icarus as punishment. Some variants of the myth say that they were put on a tower, but I think the irony of ending up in the labyrinth—a victim of his own creation—fits this myth way more.
Nevertheless, confined or not, Daedalus was still a genius inventor, so, while trying to find an exit, the means for escape became clear, and he understood that the only way out was up. Using feathers from birds and beeswax, he constructed two pairs of giant wings, for he and Icarus would fly away from their prison as only birds or gods could do. Before taking flight, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too high, lest the sun melt the wax, and not too low, lest the sea’s dampness weigh the feathers down. But, as we all know, he didn’t listen to his father. So, while Daedalus stayed carefully away from both the sun and the sea, Icarus was overwhelmed with the ecstasy of flight and overcome with the feeling of divine power that came with it. He ignored the warnings of his father as he rose higher and higher in the sky, trying to reach the heavens exactly like a god.
The rest of the story, we all know. Icarus soared too close to the sun and at last fell to his death. Like father, like son… Just as Daedalus had ignored numerous times the consequences of his inventions, Icarus was also carried away by his own hubris.
It’s quite a marvellous myth, if you ask my opinion, and we can perfectly understand how and why it has survived throughout the centuries. The tale is, in fact, dense with symbolic meaning. At its core, it’s a parable of hubris—the excessive pride or ambition that leads one to defy natural or divine limitations. Icarus’s flight can, indeed, be seen as a metaphor for humanity’s desire to transcend boundaries, to fly higher, and, of course, to reach beyond what is permitted. The sun in the story represents both enlightenment and danger. It’s the source of life and light but also a destructive force for those who come too close. Yet Icarus, intoxicated by the power of flight and freedom, fails to heed caution and, in the end, pays the price.
The first thing we may think about his character is that, essentially, he’s a fool. However, lots of modern interpretations have reimagined Icarus not only as a cautionary tale but also as a tragic hero. A symbol of ‘daring to dream’, even at a great cost. Hubris is another central concept in this myth, as it is in most Greek tragedies. It’s a fatal flaw that brings a hero to his downfall, but in the case of Icarus, his hubris is not malicious or arrogant in the conventional sense. Instead, it stems from exhilaration and the seductive allure of freedom, making his story all the more poignant and relatable and making him such a beloved figure all around the world.
It is no wonder then that he appeared and still continues to appear in countless works of art, from education, philosophy, art, and literature. Like I already wrote, lots of people love his character, perhaps because they relate to him so much.
The boy who dared to fly.
Although tragic, I believe that the story of Icarus and the Sun perfectly captures what it means to be human. It reflects our dreams, our flaws, our arrogance, and our relentless desire to reach for something greater. Icarus dies, yes, but perhaps, just perhaps, the glory of flight is still worth the fall. After all, I once read that if Icarus had drowned at sea instead, the myth would have become a warning against caution rather than recklessness.
Either way, dear reader, whether you choose to leap or not, be careful, and remember… don’t fly too close to the sun. Or if you do, make sure it’s a fall worth remembering.
P.S.
It seemed only fitting to talk about the sun again during this hot August. And, of course, the title of this article is a small tribute to one of my favourite contemporary artists, Gabriel Picolo, whose work of ‘Icarus and the Sun’ made me fall in love with this myth even more.
Up, The Fall of Icarus by Merry-Joseph Blondel (1819)
Sources:
The Myth of Daedalus and Icarus: Fly Between the Extremes
The Myth of Icarus: Chasing the Sun
The Library of the Unseen 
Penny for your thoughts…