A Talk by Professor Carter Kaplan1
July 2, 2017
Essay copyright Carter Kaplan 2017 Reprint permission Yuko Nii Foundation WAH Center Williamsburg Circle of International Arts & Letters
ABOUT CARTER KAPLAN 1960-‐ ) US academic and author of Critical Synoptics: Menippean Satire and the Analysis of Intellectual Mythology (2000) which – over and above its unexpected conflation of Menippean Satire and the philosophical investigations of Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-‐ 1951) – interestingly questions the ascendency of academic criticism-‐from-‐above over more intimate – what he calls synaesthesiacal – criticism on the part of critics who begin with the texts themselves, and focus on the complexly questioning relationship of texts to the world into which they are embedded and with which they interact. His novel, Tally-‐Ho, Cornelius! (2008), is of sf interest for its transaction of the Jerry Cornelius quarter of Michael Moorcock's Multiverse, with Jerry Cornelius reappearing in the unlikely guise of an Anglican theologian in twenty-‐first-‐century New York. Diogenes (2011) is a story in the form of a play, set in Atlantis and hinting that the Greeks knew something of Genetic Engineering. In 2011 Kaplan founded an Original Anthology sequence beginning with Emanations (anth 2011). Each volume typically contains a combination of fiction, poetry and speculative nonfiction, the latter section including several essays by Donald M Hassler, who along with Moorcock and others was on the editorial b oard from its inception. A repeated self-‐ descriptive tag – "A Journal Dedicated to the Art of Ecstasy and the Ecstasy of Experiment" – does not fully represent the range of transgressive and/or dithyrambic material on offer (see Fantastika; Postmodernism and SF). Some figures whose careers began with the 1960s New W ave, including Michael Butterworth and Robert Meadley (1947), have contributed stories to the series.
PROFESSOR CARTER KAPLAN LECTURING
Illustrating the Visions: Alloys of Art, Poetry, Politics, and Philosophy My ambitious title, “Illustrating the Visions: Alloys of Art, Poetry, Politics, and Philosophy” seems to me paradoxical, or perhaps contradictory. On one hand, my talk today will explore theoretical questions involving the interface of art, publishing, politics and philosophy; on the other hand, when it comes to the process of working with artists to illustrate the stories and poetry that appear in the annual anthology Emanations, rather than operating in realms of theory or concept, I find myself working in a very directed fashion that has more to do with trans-cultural interpersonal communications, or solving technical problems of sizing images, page counts and converting color to greyscale. Complicating matters is the question: Does philosophy drive the illustration process, or does the illustration process drive philosophy? The answer to the question seems to be “both”. Which, upon further reflection, makes me wonder if the question is meaningless;—nor is this an insignificant realization, because it forces me to think deeply about the process of illustrating visions. To cut to the chase, the process of illustration, strictly speaking, is a process of illustrating things that do not exist (and I’ll have more to say on this in a few minutes when I get to a discussion of worlds where 2 + 2 can equal 5). From theory we turn to activity, from speculation we turn to actual process: What is it that we are doing when we illustrate? That’s an interesting question. The activity of drawing and illustrating takes us back very far to the cave, and, therefore, an anthropology of drawing seems called for. Rather than revisiting that story, however, I want to bring philosophical clarity to something that rather begins with someone who can be called our first modern anthropologist, and a person for whom many in this room hold a keen interest. I mean of course John Milton. What I am going to suggest is that our activity of illustrating visions is fundamentally a Miltonic project, a Miltonic activity. Creating visions, illustrating them and then printing them up in a book, is an activity that is fundamentally revealed when viewed through a Miltonic prism. Here I want to underscore three intertwined principles: 1) the artistic act of free expression, 2) the political act of printing, and 3) the revelation of a philosophical idea called truth.
Part I: Truth, Freedom of the Press, and Freedom of Expression Most of you are familiar with a polemic, published in 1644, entitled Areopagitica; A speech of Mr. John Milton for the Liberty of Unlicencâ€™d Printing, to the Parlament of England. In the following short passage, note how freedom of expression is intrinsically linked to the concept of truth. And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter? Two remarks: First, Milton is saying that when ideas are presented openly, truth shall prevail. Second, the truth Milton speaks of is a concept with philosophical, scientific, and political significance. That is, truth (and openness) is central to our modern outlook. I will now endeavor to present a few data points that dilate on the implications of Miltonâ€™s idea. In A Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law (1765), John Adams writes: Liberty cannot be preserved without a general knowledge among the people, who have a right, from the frame of their nature, to knowledge, as their great Creator, who does nothing in vain, has given them understandings, and a desire to know; but besides this, they have a right, an indisputable, unalienable, indefeasible, divine right to that most dreaded and envied kind of knowledge, I mean, of the characters and conduct of their rulers. Rulers are no more than attorneys, agents, and trustees, of the people; and if the cause, the interest, and trust, is insidiously betrayed, or wantonly trifled away, the people have a right to revoke the authority that they themselves have deputed, and to constitute other and better agents, attorneys and trustees. The same tenor is carried forward by Thomas Jefferson, here in the Second Inaugural Address (1805): â€Ś[T]he [American] experiment [in a Free Press] is noted to prove that, since truth and reason have maintained their ground against false opinions in league with false facts, the press, confined to truth, needs no other legal restraint; the public judgment will correct false reasoning and opinions on a full hearing of all parties.... In a 16 January, 1787 letter to Colonel Edward Carrington, Jefferson writes: The basis of our government being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter. But I should mean that every man should receive those papers and be capable of reading them.
In a 28 June, 1804 letter to Judge John Tyler, Jefferson pointedly conjoins the notion of truth to free expression: No experiment can be more interesting than that we are now trying, and which we trust will end in establishing the fact, that man may be governed by reason and truth. Our first object should therefore be, to leave open to him all the avenues to truth. The most effectual hitherto found, is the freedom of the press. It is, therefore, the first [freedom] shut up by those who fear the investigation of their actions. Once more, Jefferson argues the point, here in a 6 January 1816 Letter to Colonel Charles Yancey: If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be. The functionaries of every government have propensities to command at will the liberty and property of their constituents. There is no safe deposit for these but with the people themselves; nor can they be safe with them without information. Where the press is free, and every man able to read, all is safe. In a 31 October, 1823 Letter to Adamantios Koraes, Jefferson punctuates the idea, concluding with an appeal to ethics that suggests Aristotle: I have stated that the constitutions of our several States vary more or less in some particulars. But there are certain principles in which all agree, and which all cherish as vitally essential to the protection of the life, liberty, property, and safety of the citizen [...] Freedom of the press, subject only to liability for personal injuries. This formidable censor of the public functionaries, by arraigning them at the tribunal of public opinion, produces reform peaceably, which must otherwise be done by revolution. It is also the best instrument for enlightening the mind of man, and improving him as a rational, moral, and social being. To conclude this thread, consider these lines from John F. Kennedy’s Address before the American Newspaper Publishers Association (27 April 1961): Without debate, without criticism, no Administration and no country can succeed — and no republic can survive. ... And that is why our press was protected by the First Amendment — the [press is the] only business in America specifically protected by the Constitution — not primarily to amuse and entertain, not to emphasize the trivial and the sentimental, not to simply “give the public what it wants” — but to inform, to arouse, to reflect, to state our dangers and our opportunities, to indicate our crises and our choices, to lead, mold, educate and sometimes even anger public opinion. This means greater coverage and analysis of international news — for it is no longer far away and foreign but close at hand and local. It means greater attention to improved understanding of the news as well as improved transmission. And it means, finally, that government at all levels,
must meet its obligation to provide you with the fullest possible information outside the narrowest limits of national security. ... And so it is to the printing press — to the recorder of man’s deeds, the keeper of his conscience, the courier of his news — that we look for strength and assistance, confident that with your help man will be what he was born to be: free and independent. Until I was in my 30s, I accepted these views much as I accepted the four points of the compass, the notion that 2 + 2 = 4, and the concept of solid, liquid and gaseous states of matter. But these traditional views have since been challenged. Countering these views are the assertions of the German idealists, who, for various historical and political reasons, have managed to transplant their influence to Britain and North America. In brief, we can collectively call this influence “postmodernism”, but more specifically we can construe this phenomenon along the lines of Hobbes, Berkeley, Rousseau, and the German idealists; and I suggest two data points neatly describe the phenomenon: First, Nietzsche advances a perspective theory of truth: Truth, like morality, is a relative affair: there are no facts, only interpretations. Nietzsche says, “Language falsifies reality, and therefore we will not be rid of God [that is, ‘truth’] until we are rid of grammar.” Second, and following along these lines, is the Marxist view. Far from being a philosophy of revolution and social justice, I take Marxism to be an ideology of power. Thus the Marxists say “truth” is a “bourgeois” value, and the “Revolution” must overcome the truth and the idea that stands behind it. Although I view the postmodern position as little more than the propaganda of the authoritarian corporatestatists, the idea is strong currency among intellectuals who see themselves ushering in a world government. I should remark that criticizing this project can be unpopular. Let’s spend a few minutes exploring a philosophical, scientific and political analysis of the notion of truth, which concludes pleasantly with more discussion of Milton.
Part II: Truth and Philosophy Subtitle: 2 + 2 = 5, a test case for exploring postmodern epistemology. Suffice it to say the senses put us into contact with (or place us within) a mind-independent reality. To consider the philosophical implications of this proposition, let’s consider how two plus two equals four. Does 2 + 2 = 4 if there is no mind (or senses) coming into contact with the question (or the equation)? That is, is someone perceiving (or thinking) 2 + 2 = 4 necessary for two and two to actually make four? An affirmative answer should appear to depend upon some sort of separation of grammar, mathematics, and the stream-of-life where 2 + 2 = 4. This would have to be a place, however, where existence is cleared of all experience, a place beyond time, a place outside of space... For as far as I can peer into this place, well, it seems to be a pretty odd environment. That oddness itself smacks of non-existence. Really, what is it I am actually in contact with here? Therefore, I conclude that two and two do not necessarily have to make four in a place that does not exist. But, conversely, could 2 + 2 = 5 be true in this place that does not exist? The answer... yes! Two and two could make five in a place that does not exist, outside of space, beyond time, a place clear of all experience. For here—that is nowhere—anything might be possible. But as to the possibility of nothing at all, well—especially considering all of the above—that does seem absurd, doesn’t it? But what of the relativistic—indeed democratic—appeals to consensus as being the defining pedigree of what we hold to be true; that is to say, the will of direct democracy… Is truth a matter of consensus and majority opinions? In Napoléon le Petit Victor Hugo writes: Now, get seven million five hundred thousand votes to declare that two and two make five, that the straight line is the longest road, that the whole is less than its part; get it declared by eight millions, by ten millions, by a hundred millions of votes, you will not have advanced a step. In other words, even majority opinions do not define the truth. Now, I would like to tighten up my language here, and remark that asserting “2 + 2 = 5” is nothing but a lie, and that any relevant descriptions (outside of theoretical assertions) regarding the efficacy of the statement “2 + 2 = 5” are impossible, as surely the grammar of the statement “2 + 2 =“ must always result in “4”. We might bring in G. E. Moore’s naturalistic fallacy, which certainly lends no credence whatsoever to the proposition (i.e. “2 + 2 = 5”). Compare “2 + 2 ought to = 5” which is patently absurd, for in the case of arithmetic equations, ought is never part of a legitimate statement or a sensible expression. The question is rather one of identity. 2 + 2 is 4.
Now, is the “truth” identical to itself? History will show that awkward thinkers have said “no” and impressed many. I have said very little here that needs to be said. But that little ought to mean a lot.
Part III: Truth and Science I should like to begin our inquiry into science by wresting away quantum mechanics and perceptual relativism from the postmodernists, that is to say the German idealists, that is to say from the authoritarian corporate statists… The following is from my Introduction to Emanations: Foray into Forever: Popular accounts of quantum mechanics emphasize the effect of the observer upon observed phenomena. Could this notion be “expanded” to take into consideration the historical period and the technological level of the observer? This is clearly possible if not obligatory, and hence observations and interpretations of the subjective phenomena of space and time are influenced by the level of technology and the level of scientific understanding possessed by the observer. But hard scientific phenomena like change are not influenced. Along these lines, however, the history of science might be characterized as the progression of our perception of—and our influence upon—our environment. Accordingly, as we are in the current of history rather than at its end, our perception and our influence necessarily attend to our level of scientific attainment. Fortunately, one of the features of modern skeptical-empirical science is that there is a place for not knowing. That is, we can say we know “something” is happening, but to do science we don’t necessarily have to know what that something is. Locke encountered this idea while studying to become a physician; when confronted with the complex sophistication of the human body he acknowledged that there were obviously many elaborate structures as well as many complex processes within our organism that it would be useful to discern, explain, and understand, and we should of course endeavor to find them out, but meanwhile what can we do to save the patient?
Part IV: Truth and Politics While our use of the word is similar, Europeans and Americans understand the concept of nationalism in fundamentally different ways. The American “nation” is rooted in identification with the state and the social contract. In Europe, “nation,” by definition, is rooted in culture and ethnicity. In Europe, state and nation are separate entities. For historical and legal reasons, in America that can never be the case. Moreover, in America, nationality is a philosophical concept, rooted not in identity but rather in process and activity. Nevertheless, America does have an identity. State and nation are used almost interchangeably in America. Almost. Specifically, the state is subject to the democratic method and the republican structure of the political process. In America, our nationhood—our national identity—is an acceptance of the social contract that defines and shapes the process. American national identity therefore is embodied in the U.S. Constitution. Where does this leave us? I would like to return to Milton in order to identify a political-nationalscientific-philosophical matrix where we can pursue the projects of 1) describing our national character, and 2) exploring our notion of truth. The two activities, I believe, are related. In his seminal book on The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution, Harvard historian Bernard Bailyn identifies five currents of thought that were significant to forming the world view of the colonists who struggled against the British Empire. The initial four are as follows: first, “the heritage of classical antiquity;” second, the “ideas and attitudes associated with the writings of Enlightenment rationalism;” third, the tradition represented by English common law; and, fourth, the “political and social theories of New England Puritanism.” However, according to Bailyn, important as all these clusters of ideas were, they did not in themselves form a coherent intellectual pattern, and they do not exhaust the elements that went into the making of the Revolutionary frame of mind . . . The ultimate origins of this distinctive ideological strain lay in the radical social thought of the English Civil War, and of the Commonwealth period. Bailyn goes on to say that the permanent form of the American revolutionary world view had fully formed by the late-seventeenth and early eighteenth-centuries. Not surprisingly, John Milton figures significantly as a progenitor of this world view. The American Revolution is properly an outcome of radical “poetical” processes of early-modern thought. That is to say, our society, our culture, the very concept of our nationality, is rooted in John Milton. Like our philosophical aspiration to seek the truth, like our scientific aspiration to seek out ways to influence the physical universe, our political, anthropological and psychological understanding is an expression of poetic understanding, poetic inquiry, poetic insight, and—of central interest to the people assembled here today in the WAH Center—our understanding is an expression of poetic composition.
Where do we place our activity of poetic composition in relation to our quest for truth? To answer this question, let’s consider Paradise Lost as an analysis of intellectual mythology. Let’s consider Paradise Lost as a poem about dispelling conceptual confusion and clearing away philosophical credulousness. According to Carl Jung: Myth is not fiction: it consists of facts that are continually repeated and can be observed over and over again. It is something that happens to man, and men have mythical fates just as much as the Greek heroes do.1 Milton would disagree, I believe, because Jung’s formulation attributes a kind of logical, scientific legitimacy to emotional experience. It’s like Jung is saying the experience of a headache is the same as a scientific understanding of headaches. By way of explanation, let’s dilate upon a definition of poetry and myth, and then clarify their relationship to each other. I use the words interchangeably: myth is poetry, poetry is myth, and it—poetry/myth—is either in some sense accurate, or in some sense deceptive. Compare Wittgenstein: “Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language” (PI §109). In Paradise Lost, Milton is using the poem to analyze this very bewitchment, and as such it can be read as an anthropological exposition of the emergence of analytic philosophy; Paradise Lost is a dramatization of the emergence of an understanding that is clearer than the understanding that we had before. In Milton, the language of religion and religious myth becomes the vehicle for the emergence of this clearer understanding: the transcendence of misunderstanding and deception (lies/Satan) is realized metaphorically in the victory of the Son, who is the clarification of philosophical credulousness that is rooted in conceptual confusion and the misuse of language. Milton begins with religious language because of our historical circumstance. We are forced to use this language, but over time the discussion produces various heterodoxies that allow us to view the linguistic-stream-of-life confluence in toto—or rather in context—thus enabling us to gain a clear overview of the parts, the whole, and their relations to each other. Hester and Dimmesdale go through this in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Scarlet Letter: the context of their Calvinist orthodoxy gives them the linguistic tools they use to transcend that same orthodoxy. In working this out, Hawthorne suggests a two-phase Calvinist experience, and places the “post-Calvinist” phase at the center of American political and philosophical understanding. Compare Melville in Moby-Dick, and Mark Twain in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Nabokov plays on this string producing marvelous effects in his novel Pale Fire. The plot and theme of these novels is suggested by Wittgenstein in PI §309:
What is your aim in philosophy? - To show the fly the way out of the fly-bottle. I would argue, too, that this post-Calvinist worldview compares very closely to core aspects of Judaism, Vedic Brahmanism, and Buddhism, and also sets forth the outlines of the modern worldview we associate with Ockham, Bacon, Locke, and, Jefferson. In respect to the influence of these figures, their originality chiefly flows from their ability to clarify these ideas in memorable and effective political language. Milton—returning to our original anthropologist—shows that poetry is the vehicle par excellence for examining the process of philosophical clarification, and realizing Wittgenstein’s aim to show the fly the way out of the fly-bottle… In sum, from my perspective as a publisher and editor, my task is simply—that is, it is simple to formulate—I say, my task is to create a place where people can express themselves, with the goal in mind of revealing, in whatever way, truth—be it useful, extraneous, earth-shattering, arcane, diverting, entertaining, ephemeral, or what have you. It is also, however, my task to create a place where things are false, to present realms, beings and events that do not exist, and to illustrate them. As Milton argues in Areopagitica, we must study what is “bad” or heretical, because we can learn from falsehood and discover what is true by considering what is not true. As I have already suggested in reference to Paradise Lost, The Scarlet Letter, Moby-Dick, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, it is by passing through a world of falsehood that Adam and Eve, Hester and Dimmesdale, Ishmael, and Huck realize their emergence into the realm of true understanding. Let us now talk about illustrators and their illustrations. In preparing for today’s session, I solicited a number of International Authors artists to share with me some statements regarding the things that come to mind as they consider their work. I received responses from Joel K. Soiseth, Vitasta Raina, Bienvenido “Bones” Bañez, Jr., and Christopher Arabadjis. I will now share with you their statements:
Joel K. Soiseth: In grad school I started working with traditional still life material, but using these items in different motifs and settings. I liked the idea of juxtaposing unrelated objects, which was a standard Surrealist trope or playing with scale (as Hieronymus Bosch did with his giant fruits). Broccoli is a wonderful object to draw and is, of course, a tree-like form, which lent itself to landscape vistas. Broccoli also the humble vegetable in the tradition of Baroque still life painters like Sanchez-Cotan. Some of the works I did also explored a form of the trompe l’oeil “pictures within pictures” motif, which I used in the “Goddess of Wisdom” painting. I wanted the model interacting with the “painted/real” object, gesturing, with the ropes reinforcing the connection… (tying things together is something else I use quite often). The young woman who modeled was Athena Fox, and I photographed her for this work back in 2005. She and her twin sister posed for me a number of times. Athena now has 6 kids… maybe 7, I lost count.
Vitasta Raina: 1. Throughout my childhood, I was encouraged to sketch and write. I got interested… really interested in art around age 10... because of my mother. She had this studio set up with easel and oil paints, and I fell in love with the idea of painting. 2. It was in architecture school when I learnt a lot of different rendering techniques. 3. I got into pen and ink because of comic books and H.P. Lovecraft, Gustave Dore and Virgil Finlay. 4. Then I started reading about art and got into Outsider artists—Darger and Adolf Wölfli —horror Vacui. 5. Then I fell in love the fauvists. 6. Then I met the Dada artists and finally Henri Matisse. 7. I am not into surrealism, per say. But I like playing with colours—that I guess is influenced by Henri Matisse. 8. My style is still under development. I like experimenting with different styles because I am still searching for a style to call my own—where I can ‘fit in’.
Bienvenido “Bones” Bañez, Jr: State of Mind is a nation of creativity empowerment into varied culture from the Tower of Babel, our great imagination well-structured and respectful of tradition into universal peace. In late 1996, our multifaceted, multicultural art center opened, and they named it the “Williamsburg Art and Historical Center” (the WAH Center). “WAH” means in Japanese, “Harmony or Peace or Unity.” The WAH Center is a place where art and people meet in peace and harmony, making unity through the universal language of art. Some say that for world peace to become a reality, two things must occur: First, changes need to take place in the outlook and behavior of humans; and, second, international artists must unite under a single government. Otherwise, there would have been no need for the inspired advice for us to continue, “putting up with one another.” How is unity with artists and philosophers and fellow believers achieved? We need to develop “complete lowliness of mind and mildness.” Moreover, Paul urges that we earnestly endeavor “to observe the oneness of the spirit in the uniting bond of peace.” …with all humility and mildness, with patience, putting up with one another in love, earnestly endeavoring to maintain the oneness of the spirit in the uniting bond of peace. Can unity be achieved in the same way today? Can these same factors still draw members of the WAH Center together and enable them to be at peace with all races in all parts of the world? My hope is that we can achieve the aspiration of this great message from the spirit of the Williamsburg Art & Historical Center.
Christopher Arabadjis: I draw nearly every day using ballpoint pen. I have done so for over six years. I start every drawing the same way with a mark (or shape) and a rule for how to repeat it. A rule usually consists of specifying how different the second mark can be from the first. For example, Untitled (2016-12-001) started with a red square somewhere in the middle of the paper. The rule for repetition was that the next mark had to be red, four sided, and touch the corners of the first, but its internal angles could change turning it into, say, a parallelogram. The pattern resulted in a wavy checkerboard. As I make marks I try to rigorously adhere to the rules. Once this process is set in motion, I let go and see where it takes me. Of course, each mark is a small yet conscious decision, but I work quickly enough that it does not feel that way. In fact, I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I am like two people when I draw. The other is an observer who watches a creator who looks like he knows what he is doing and where he is going. If a drawing seems to stall under the weight of too much homogeneity I will recalibrate the rule, loosening it to allow for greater diversity. If there is not enough tension, a second system will be introduced consisting of a new mark and rule combination. In the aforementioned drawing, I introduced a second mark that was a blue four sided shape that had to fully touch all of the red marks around it, e.g. it filled in the white areas of the red checkerboard wherever it extended to. However, when they reached the edge where the red marks ended, they could extend beyond the boundary in the same way the red marks had colonized a region. Sometimes the second system is one of opposition and sometimes one of compatibility, but the goal is for the systems to complement each other for the greater good of the whole. There is no limit to the number of systems that I would introduce, but the more systems, the more difficult it is to resolve a piece. I currently use red and blue ink to explore the way color interacts, but only two colors in order to limit the outcomes and isolate the connection between cause and effect. I work like a scientist because I was trained to think logically from a young age, and because I studied physics for fifteen years. I think of these works as mini physics calculations or simulations. Like building my own universe from scratch, or as we say in physics from first principles. The development of each drawing mimics the process of growth with a built-in mechanism for mutation – the inability of my hand or my mind not to make a mistake. In fact, I’ve come to see mistakes as acts of creation. Well, here we have a number of books and images to explore. At this point, I think we should engage with the artists directly, and so I propose to turn our afternoon over to discussion. Thank you.
THE DAY IN PICTURES Photos by Bienvenido Bones Banez, Peter Dizozza and Yuko Nii
Yuko Nii Asks About Being and Nothingness in Zen
Yuko Nii Examining the art of Bienvenido Banez That Was Used in Emmanations
The Audience Rises to Look at Exhibits, Talk and take Pictures
Terrance Lindall Salutes Donald Trump as Commander in Chief while singing “Oh Beautiful”
After the Lecture, Visit to the Rare Book Library
Next a Visit to the Treasure Room of Historical Antiquities
IT WAS A GREAT DAY WITH SCHOLARS, COMPOSERS AND ARTISTS!
If you would like to submit stories or art to Emmanations: Emanations is an anthology series featuring fiction, poetry, essays, manifestos and reviews. The emphasis is on alternative narrative structures, new epistemologies, peculiar settings, esoteric themes, sharp breaks from reality, ecstatic revelations, and vivid and abundant hallucinations. The editors are interested in literary writing. The special emphasis in Emanations VI is fiction and poetry with a strong sense of "other place", and "unworldly" ways of seeing, feeling, and describing. Recognizable genres— science fiction, fantasy, horror, political dystopia, satire, mystery, local color, romance, realism, surrealism, postmodernism-‐-‐are fine, but the chief idea is to make something new, and along these lines the illusion of something new can b e just as important. If a story or poem makes someone say, "Yes, it is good. But what is it?" then it is right for Emanations. Essays should be exuberant, daring, and free of pedantry. Accounts of unusual travels will fit well into Emanations VI. Length is a consideration in m aking publication decisions, but in keeping with the spirit of the project contributors should consider length to be “open.” Our editorial vision is evolving. Contributors should see themselves as actively shaping the "vision" of Emanations. Send files with brief cover note to: IAsubmissions@hotmail.com
Illustrating the Visions: Alloys of Art, Poetry, Politics, and Philosophy