Do you know the Venus of Milo? For those who don't know it, it is a Hellenistic statue of extreme beauty and technical ability depicting the goddess Aphrodite. It is characterized by the absence of the arms, cut cleanly just below the biceps, which leads to numerous hypotheses about the scene that the sculptor, Alexander of Antioch, wanted to represent: perhaps a depiction of the delivery of the golden apple to Paris or the moment of the bath.

On how it lost its arms, Disney also tried to give its own solution. Remember when in Hercules the protagonist tries to woo Meg? At one point our hero tries to bounce a pebble on the surface of the water, but ends up breaking the arms of the statue placed in the center of the fountain.

There she is, our Venus! And like Meg, we agree: it's much more beautiful that way.

Cold gaze, deep voice, mouth constantly turned downwards. Grimilde, the Evil Queen of Snow White, is the epitome of all that a Disney villain has to be. And what a villain! Wrapped in a cloak as black as night, the Queen hides a heart of ice and pursues a single goal: to be the most beautiful.

Although she is the guardian of a pitch-black soul, we cannot deny that, in the roster of evil queens, Grimilde is certainly one of the most fascinating. To create this famous character, the Disney designers were inspired by the medieval statue of Uta of Ballenstedt, Margravine of Meissen, made by the Master of Naumburg and kept in the city cathedral. The sumptuous clothing, the polychromy of the marbles and the haughty gaze determine its attractiveness and icy royalty, unprecedented in Romanesque sculpture.

Don't you think there are quite a few parallels between the two?

When you hear the word "ancestors" what is the first thing that comes to mind? But Mulan of course! One of the most iconic scenes of the cartoon dedicated to the Chinese heroine (moreover she really existed, her deeds are told in the Ballad of Mulan, a poem of the sixth century), is the one that revolves around the heroine's choice to serve in the army in place of her sick father and which sees the ancestors of the family debating who to send to the girl's aid.

We'll admit it: it took a couple of viewings of the film before we became aware of any artistic references (blame it on Mushu and his sympathy), but then we got there. In the carousel of spirits you can see a couple in particular, she with her eyebrow raised and a no nonsense expression, he with glasses and a farmer's pitchfork: it is American Gothic by Grant Wood!

The models for the painting were the artist's sister and dentist, and the work is now preserved at the Art Institute of Chicago. Built in 1930, it became a symbol of the rural culture of Great Depression America and the living conditions of the working and less affluent classes.

The erect postures, the fixed gaze and the contrite faces seem perfect to represent the idea of strict ancestors and tireless workers, don't you think?

It's time to land in one of the most beloved Disney classics of recent years. Yes, we're talking about Frozen! Magical powers, a fantasy kingdom, two sisters willing to do anything for each other and a cute talking snowman... The screenwriters did their job well, there's no doubt about it.

And Arendelle - this is the name of the kingdom in which the story takes place - can count on a palace and a royal family loved by the people. And like any self-respecting palace, it hides countless treasures in its halls. Accompanied by Princess Anne, to the tune of a lively song, we glide down endless staircases and past kitchens full of delights, but it is in the royal picture gallery that the real magic begins. Here, in a perfect combination of history and fantasy, after an almost immersive leap of the protagonist in some paintings we realize that, hey!, that swing scene looks familiar.

And that's exactly how it is, because it's none other than The Swing by Jean-Honoré Fragonard. Set in a forest, the main subject of the painting is a richly dressed noblewoman pushed onto a swing by her husband, while at her feet, hidden in the bushes, there is a young man with whom she exchanges mischievous glances and towards whom the shoe lost during the flight seems to be directed.

There's a star up in the sky / That every dream can fulfill / And the most serene joy can give / To the star open your heart / With trust and love / And the star up in the sky will satisfy you

Some music is immortal. Disney's introductory theme song is one of those, but without the iconic princess castle, designed by a star, it wouldn't be the same. But where did Walt Disney get his inspiration to create it?

To understand this, you have to move to the Bavarian Alps, about two hours from Munich, where Neuschwanstein Castle appears like a mirage, with its pearl-white color and pointed towers, cloaked in snow in winter and surrounded by the bright colors of autumn, it seems to have come out of a fairy tale.

And while his patron, Ludwig II of Bavaria, wanted to erect it as a place of solitude where to revive the great deeds of Wagner's characters (Lohengrin, Tristan and Isolde, Sigurd) through pictorial cycles extremely rich in detail, Walt Disney made this fantastic place not only Aurora's castle in Sleeping Beauty, but the base on which to build what would become the symbol par excellence, together with Mickey Mouse, of his empire.

Initially, we had thought of leaving the number of Easter eggs to delight you with five, but we could not fail to present to you what is to all intents and purposes the perfect combination of art and animation ever created. Not just artistic references, but a true example of animated art that saw two brilliant minds collaborate on its creation.

We are talking about Destino, a surrealist short film born from the creative genius of Walt Disney and Salvador Dalí. At the center of the narrative we find the love story between the personification of Time and a mortal dancer. In about seven minutes the two chase each other in a desert setting without ever being able to meet, in a chain of scenes that tell of the inevitability of the passage of time, in a succession of surrealist references that leave room for the most disparate interpretations.

Unfortunately, due to an economic collapse after the Second World War, Disney was forced to stop the production of the short film and it took seventy-five years and the intervention of his nephew, Roy Disney, for the project to finally see the light, bringing to the screens what to all intents and purposes is one of the company's most visionary and daring productions.