The Sea Horse Sculpture in Odense

A fairy-tale creature on the river

The Sea Horse sculpture appears almost mid-leap from the Odense River, just where footpaths converge at the entrance to Munke Mose park. Cast in bronze, the creature is half horse, half fantastical water beast, its head thrown back as if snorting spray, while water from the fountain accentuates its sense of movement. On its muscular back sits a mermaid-like female figure, hair swept behind her as though caught in an invisible current. Placed low and close to the waterline, the sculpture feels less like a distant monument and more like a living character inhabiting the river. Reflections shift across its surface as clouds move overhead, and ducks drift past the plinth, giving the impression that the fairy tale has simply emerged into a very real, very present Odense.

Roots in Hans Christian Andersen’s “Agnete and the Merman”

The work is inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s dramatic piece “Agnete and the Merman,” in which a young woman is drawn into an underwater world and torn between two lives. Rather than illustrating the story literally, the artist distils its themes of temptation, longing and the pull of the sea into a single, striking scene: a wild sea horse hurtling forward, rider clinging to its back. This connection to Andersen makes the sculpture part of a broader constellation of fairy-tale artworks scattered through Odense. Nearby you may encounter other sculptural references to his tales – swans, paper boats, and more – but the Sea Horse stands out for its energy and tension, looking as if it could surge off down the river at any moment.

Setting between Munke Mose and the old town

The location is central to the sculpture’s charm. One side opens towards Munke Mose, a green park where locals stroll, picnic and watch boats glide along the river. The other side looks back towards the older streets around Ny Vestergade, tying the fairy-tale creature to the city’s historic core. Trees frame the view in summer, while in winter the bare branches lend the bronze a starker, almost mythic presence. Because it sits at a natural crossing point over the water, many people encounter the Sea Horse in passing. Paths, lawns and benches nearby create a relaxed, open-air gallery feeling, where the sculpture becomes a companion to daily routines: joggers, cyclists, families with prams and school groups all sharing the same riverside stage.

Details worth a closer look

Up close, the Sea Horse reveals intriguing details. The creature’s head is elongated, more dragon-like than equine, and the sculpted mane flows not upward in wind but downward in imagined water. The rider’s posture is both graceful and tense, arms and torso angled slightly forward as if bracing against the surge. The interplay between smooth, polished surfaces and rougher textures creates lively highlights when the light changes. The fountain element adds another layer. In still conditions the water drops softly around the base, producing a gentle sound that merges with birdsong and the rustle of leaves. On breezeier days, fine spray can drift across the path, catching the sunlight and briefly turning the area around the sculpture into a shimmering mist.

Experiencing the sculpture at different times of day

The Sea Horse is accessible at all hours, and its character shifts with the time of day. Morning light often illuminates one flank while the opposite side remains in shade, emphasising the form of the mermaid and the curve of the horse’s neck. At midday, reflections from the river brighten the bronze, and the area fills with the background murmur of city life. Later in the day, as the riverbank quiets, the sculpture can feel almost solitary, the surrounding park softening into a calm, reflective space. Subtle lighting from the city can give the bronze a muted glow after dark, reinforcing the sense of a fairy-tale figure keeping watch over the water, half in this world and half in Andersen’s imagination.

A gentle stop on an Andersen-themed city walk

For many visitors, the Sea Horse becomes a natural pause point on a thematic walk linking Odense’s Andersen sites. Without demanding long explanations or guided tours, it invites a short stop: a few photos, a moment by the railings watching water and bronze interact, perhaps a chance to recall or discover the tale of Agnete and the Merman. Because it is free to visit and integrated into an everyday public space, the sculpture blurs the line between monument and city life. It stands as a reminder that in Odense, Andersen’s stories are not confined to museums or bookshelves; they emerge on street corners and riverbanks, transforming the ordinary act of crossing a bridge into a brief encounter with myth.