Midterm: CLAVDII PTOLEMAEI PE lufienfis Alexandrin

Posted on October 30, 2025 by Samuel Peters

To preface, uploading the photos resulted in complete disarray and random photos appearing where I hadn’t intended. If you’d like to consult the photos while I fix this, please follow this link to a document including them from Special Collections. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1I10LG4d49UvafGPVNz7Q8mEN4CvsUQ0vO2HGmChkXbw/edit?usp=sharing

For centuries, no, for over a millennium, humans looked up into the sky and believed themselves at the center of everything. As far as they knew, the universe was created specifically for them, the Earth did not orbit the Sun, and instead, vice versa, as the planets were claimed to orbit Earth as well. This geocentric model dominating human thought was derived from the studies of Claudius Ptolemaeus, a Greco-Roman mathematician born around the year 100 AD (Wikipedia Contributors).

Throughout his intellectual pursuits in mathematics and astronomy, Ptolemy did plenty of writing that has stuck around until our time. Of course, it must have, or else I wouldn’t be doing this assignment. Though, given his ancient age, it’s remarkable his work stayed intact and remembered until the age of printing.

The following bibliography will detail a compilation of Ptolemy’s works, titled “CLAVDII PTOLEMAEI PE lufienfis Alexandrini omnia qua extant opera, prater Geographiam, quam non difsimiliformantrperriméadidimus fumma cura & diligentia caftigata ab Erafmo Ofualdo Schrekhenfuchfio, & ab eodem Ifagoicain Almageftum prafatione, & fidelifsimis in priores libros annotationibus illuftrata, quemadmo-dum fequens pagina catalogo indicat.

This title may be wordy in Latin, though it is just as wordy in a rough English translation reading, “The complete works of Claudius Ptolemy of Pelusium, the Alexandrian, except for the Geography, which we have very recently published in a similar form; carefully and diligently corrected by Erasmus Oswald Schreckenfuchs, and enriched with his introductory preface to the* Almagest* and faithful annotations on the earlier books, as the following page’s catalogue indicates.”

Immediately, we’re let in on a couple of important notes. First, the writing was not entirely that of Ptolemy’s. A preface to Ptolemy’s most famous work, the Almagest, was written by Erasmus Oswald Schreckenfuchs. Erasmus was born in 1511 in Austria, which gives a better idea of the date of publication (Wikipedia Contributors).

Secondly, the use of the diction “corrected,” accompanied by the annotations, implied that Ptolemy’s work had since been recalculated. This is to say, the work was not explicitly presented as fact, as it once was.

Going back to the first note, the date and place of publication are verifiable. The line reading, Basileae, in officina Henrici Petri, mense Martio anno M.D.LI.” translates to “In Basel, in the workshop (printing house) of Henricus Petri, in the month of March, in the year 1551. (“PAL: Basel, Henricus Petri, 1551”)” With the origin of Basel, Switzerland, Petri was cited as the print shop owner involved in the circulation of this book. Take, for comparison, the print of Argonautica, embellished with the town name and a similar image (“Heinrich Petri”).

Knowing the creators, it’s also neat to look at who had their hands on this work in the past. Looking at a bookplate inside the front cover, a crest could be seen with the label “Aytoun of Inchdairnie” below it. A simple Google search with that label resulted in some brief history. According to a website detailing landed families of Britain and Ireland, a member of that family, “Andrew Aytoun (d. 1513) [was], a loyal servant of King James IV, [and served as] Chamberlain and Captain of the Royal Castle of Stirling. (Kingsley)” While the specifics of which Aytoun family member created the bookplate were unknown, it is important when considering what type of family would own this book.

Now, with a better understanding of who the book passed through to get to SDSU, it’s time to look at the book itself. As everyone naturally does, the cover will be up first to judge.

The cover looks and smells like vellum, carrying a rich, intoxicating musk that must indicate years of degradation. I noted the intoxicating factor, as the smell jumped out before I even opened the book. Consistent with the fact that vellum tightens with moisture, the tan surface had a smooth texture and looked glossy in light–light that appears to have altered the materials.

Near the yapp edges, which are the vellum overhanging and protecting the fore-edge, a large discoloration could be seen (“Etherington & Roberts. Dictionary–Yapp Style”). While it appeared to be the result of light exposure or oxidation, judging by the cracked yet smooth surface, I argued it’s the result of a greater degree of exposure. Discolorations such as this were common in older vellum-based books, though the specific location and severity could suggest a human’s impact.

Another detail, just under the discolorations, appeared to be a small wormhole. Again, for old vellum-based books, this was common, suggesting various bookworms have had their turn reading. Also, no title appears on the spine.

Regarding the binding, it looked to be in its original copy, as the cover was bound over the binding. Though a better name exists as “alum-tawed thongs,” which are narrow, tanned strips of leather earning their name for the thick quality (“Thongs | Language of Bindings”). And while delicate, the book felt very much stable in its configuration.

Even with the protective layer, Ptolemy’s work suffered from human error, evident by the watermarks. These marks were littered throughout the book, usually appearing towards the top of the page, and even showing on the headcap.

This brings attention to the page itself, which, judging by its fibrous patterns in light, appeared to be rag-cotton paper. Also, the folio is quite larger than the average paper size today. It was cool to see the slightly uneven trimming of the folio, suggesting an inexact system was used–most likely a human hand (“Heinrich Petri”)..

The folio’s stiff quality was important when asking why it was made that way. Most likely, the folio needed to be thick enough for the larger woodplate impressions that appear. With a thinner material, it would have been more susceptible to wrinkling.

These woodplate impressions span the entirety of the book and are specifically notable in the printing house’s emblem and the elaborate initials. These initials, some of which display children and beasts, appeared at the beginning of most works, and even in the Index.

Clearly, the creators were not pinching pennies by minimizing text. This was also seen in the vast amount of blank space occupying the work and the wide margins. Except, this act was intentional. As stated before, Ptolemy’s work was studied for centuries, which gives this work an intellectual meaning. All blank space could then be interpreted as room for marginalia, which served its purpose.

This book was littered with annotations such as highlighted sections, added notes, and even crossed-out sections. Taking the title into account, it’s important to distinguish whether the notes came from Erasmus or a potential second hand. Unfortunately, this task wasn’t easy, yet it spoke of the intellectual nature of the book, designed for interaction and annotation.

The printed words were primarily black in Latin, with the occasional Greek, in line with Ptolemy’s origins. The font was Roman, differing in size from heading to body text. Aside from the fact that I can’t speak Latin, the legibility was clear, yet the body text was slightly tight and bloodied from the ink.

The printers included an interesting design on one page of text that I first described as an upside-down triangle. Google helped me reword this description into centered, tapering text. This style was quite new at the time and displayed the expansion of aesthetics, while also serving as more room for marginalia.

All of the works composing this book were detailed in the index, notably the Almagest and annotations on it, though it’s important to consider the imagery as well. Woodcut designs appeared mainly in the form of diagrams and models of Ptolemy’s work. Most notably, a large double-page woodcut was bound between folios, displaying a constellation map. The print was folded irregularly towards the gutter and has tape supporting what must have been a recent tear. This too-interesting topic of the imagery then finally leads to the second section.

Part II

As a collection of some of the most famous and influential scientific texts, CLAVDII

PTOLEMAEI PE lufienfis Alexandrini… detailed theories on the Earth and universe that defined human thought for centuries. Woodcut designs help relate the information, displaying an intimate focus on both aesthetics and intellect. Boasting above all the designs, the irregularly folded constellation map serves as the most unique feature of this book.

Printed in Petri’s Basel workshop with the help of Erasmus, the map, among other images, visually relates Ptolemy’s theory on the geocentric universe. In an age before Copernicus disproved the Earth as being the center of everything, these images shed light on how knowledge and belief systems intertwined to come up with universal conclusions.

Based on the extraordinary printing of the image and the later taping repairs, the Ptolemy models are representative of the importance of history in finding new conclusions. Though at the same time, for the very reason of their importance, the question is asked: Do these models hold up today?

First, it’s necessary to go back to the description. Labeled as “Imagines Constellationum Borealium,” translated to “Images of the Northern Constellations, (Google)” the large double-page woodcut makes the northern celestial hemisphere the heart of the collection. This is both metaphorical and literal when considering that the image is in the near middle of the book.

The star chart displays the region of stars and their locations according to Earth, with each constellation named in Latin. In our San Diego State University copy, the fold bisects, creating a dark aging or usage mark around what appears to be twins–the cancer zodiac sign. The twins are just one of the examples of zodiac figures recognizable today.

Whether through the crab, the bull, or the scorpion, it goes to show how this work from ages ago remains and dominates our culture today. The printers even go so far as to include an index for the zodiac signs, as seen in the photo below.

Back to referencing the constellations, black ink in the label appears to have faded, though the overall impressions look well-kept and unharmed. This preserves the geometry of the work, which was not affected by the apparent tear covered by tape close to the gutter. Despite its flaws, and maybe considering them as well, this piece is beautiful beyond belief. The aesthetics indicate how visual art and writing coincided, and how imaginative the brains were, not just in creating this, but inspiring it. It is fair to say this was an idealization of the sky, but a preferable one at that.

As seen in the photo above, in their sky, rather than the Earth orbiting the sun, the reverse occurred. Needless to say, this claim has since been discredited.

This idealization made the claim of Earth being fixed and the sky, or heavens, revolving. I note the word heavens as some figures take the form of angels, and also because belief systems at the time saw the heavens as a physical place rather than metaphysical, as is common today. It would only make sense to paint the physical sky with beauty, then, in effect, reflecting the beauty they believed to be heaven (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica).

Within the geometry on the page, the predicted motion of stars and planets may be observed. One large problem appears when considering the idea of retrograde motion. While Ptolemy accounted for this, he predicted planets’ irregular movements as a result of epicycles, not full orbits. These epicycles, although mathematically regarded, were far off and did not correctly explain retrograde motion as later years would (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica).

Except that, at the time of publication, these theories were already disproven. First printed in 1543, De revolutionibus orbium coelestium, or On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres, relayed the heliocentric theory of the astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus (Wikipedia Contributors, “De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium”). This theory completely disproved Ptolemy’s geocentric model of the universe, and yet, the printers under Petri’s jurisdiction chose to move forward anyway. This then gives reason to the numerous annotations spanning throughout the work, and disregards some of its intellectual value.

Now, half a millennium later, the image “Imagines Constellationum Borealium” serves as both an artifact and an idea. As the stars have not faded, so too have the bright minds influencing our modern day not faded. Without Ptolemy’s work, there could very well be no Copernicus. And without the countless others assisting in refining what we understand as truth, we could still believe in the Geocentric model.

Under it all, a metaphor exists in the need to visualize order in the unknown. The symbols and characters in the sky represent beauty that was believed to be there, all for the good of the people. To modern eyes, the chart’s centered Earth may feel ignorant, even naïve, yet its beauty invites respect. To put that much thought into something constitutes true belief, which, now with an abundance of truth, is sometimes lacking.

Going deeper into the details, the tapeworm on the constellation map could signify a human attempt to preserve the fleeting beliefs. To adapt to new knowledge is one thing, but to drop your belief system is another. Even if Copernicus’s new model disproved the geocentric one, it could not put to rest an inherently metaphysical belief of many.

Today, many people address the Zodiac signs with the same regard as then. While Ptolemy probably didn’t predict these formations to be used as character traits and relationship compatibility, he did lay the groundwork for these developments. So, in asking again how the book’s works hold up today, disregarding the clear discrepancies from modern science, I would answer pretty well.

Within the elaborate geometry, Ptolemy and the printers remind us not of the importance of answers, but of the quest. By applying their belief systems and knowledge, we’re also able to understand why the answers were found in the first place.

And as we unfold the pages, continuing our search for the truth, we’re reminded of the countless others who have done the same. And while the truth may have been the external goal, it’s only in finding the fingerprints of others that we join our one, unified goal.

Works Cited

“Etherington & Roberts. Dictionary–Yapp Style.” Culturalheritage.org, 2025, cool.culturalheritage.org/don/dt/dt3832.html. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025.

Kingsley, Nick. “(263) Aytoun of Inchdairnie House.” Blogspot.com, 30 Oct. 2025, landedfamilies.blogspot.com/2017/05/263-aytoun-of-inchdairnie-house.html. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025.

“PAL: Basel, Henricus Petri, 1551.” Badw.de, 26 July 2025, ptolemaeus.badw.de/print/google.com. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025.

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Geocentric Model.” Encyclopædia Britannica, 2019, www.britannica.com/science/geocentric-model.

“Thongs | Language of Bindings.” Ed.ac.uk, 4 Aug. 2021, lob.is.ed.ac.uk/index.php/concept/3069. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025.

Wikipedia Contributors. “De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 25 Mar. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_revolutionibus_orbium_coelestium.

—. “Erasmus Oswald Schreckenfuchs.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 7 Dec. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erasmus_Oswald_Schreckenfuchs.

—. “Heinrich Petri.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 7 Sept. 2025, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heinrich_Petri.

Dr. Bookworm and Sierra Beggs on: De revolutionibus orbium cœlestium and Stanford

Posted on October 27, 2025 by Sierra Beggs

As a bookworm with a PHD in 16th century Renaissance codices, I can tell you that this first edition of the first part of Copernicus’s, De revolutionibus orbium cœlestium, is a spectacularly tasty specimen. When I took my first bite, I easily recognized the vellum outer cover (a typical material used for covers when this book was published in 1543) stretched over some kind of wood. The spine also includes the name of the book in gold gilded letters.

Next, I delicately ate through the front cover, right below the bookplates with surgical precision (so as to not damage the bookplates, so I can further investigate them). I find there are three bookplates present. The first looks to be a family library crest that includes a crown and the writing “Ex Libris Marchionis Salsae,” in an almost cursive-like font. This is the bookplate of Giovanni Domenico Berio and his son Francesco Maria (Salsae Bookplate). The second is a family crest with two angles on the side of the crest along with a crown above the crest, and the motto, “Comme Je Fus” (Ward book Plate); This is the bookplate of William Ward, the third Viscount Dudley and Ward. The final bookplate is a Stanford book plate detailing the book as part of the Newton collection, with a note it was a gift from Alfred W. Van Sinderen, and a subsequent stamp denoting the withdrawal of the book from its library.There also seems to have been some kind of rectangular paper on the back inside cover that, for now, is lost to time.

Above the bookplates I process some newer paper in my gut that signifies some more information about the piece, and also on the other side in relation to the corrections made by (my mouth can’t quite make out the full name) K. Paul III from the Holy Office. The note rewrites all of the Latin corrections in one spot, but does not translate them. And right underneath this includes more on Copernicus’s life.

The book was gifted to SDSU in 1991, as stated on the donor page accompanying the book, by The Friends of the Malcolm a Love Library. The book is mostly in Latin, but also includes some Greek. And the church edits are in Church Latin shorthand. The publisher is Vittembergæ : Excusum per Iohannem Lufft, and the editor is cited to be G.J. Rhäticus (SDSU Special Collections). Although there also seems to be another publisher: Norimbergæ apud Ioh. Ptereium, Anno M. D. XLIII. But I believe Vittembergæ : Excusum per Iohannem Lufft is actually the printer as Excusum can be Latin for “to print” or “to forge” (https://www.latin-is-simple.com/en/vocabulary/verb/3773/). Either way the translation for the places cite the book being made in Germany. The back half of the book is more pristine than the front half, particularly a little bit after the famous page with the solar system diagram. Signatures are also present on the pages.

Some pages took longer than others to chew through, which means they are of varied thicknesses. Faint horizontal lines on the paper and the taste of fibers—which are also visible to the naked human eye—leads me to believe the paper is of the cotton-rag variety.

While making my tunnel I noted water damage on some of the pages. When going through the binding it is also obviously bounded by some light blue-green thread as well as tan thread, and is made up of multiple folios gathered together. And there are signs of other bookworms studying the pages of this book.

While the typeface is Roman, the ink itself pools in different places. This points to the use of a Gutenberg-like printing press being used, due to the ink being spread by hand (A video showing the process and similar ink pooling). The ink is black for the main text, and for the edits and corrections done by the church the ink is red (now a more rusted red-brown). There are also signs of the red-brown ink in multiple other places in the book.

Most sections also include an Ornamental initial lettering of the inhabited variety that includes cherubs and other figures. The book also contains various tables with data in them, the lines never quite matching up perfectly. But this book also has some amazing examples of geometric printing done for the complicated diagrams explaining the math.

Some other interesting quirks about this particular book I found includes some kind of fiber—maybe even hair—stuck to the ink on one of the pages and looks as if it is even coated in the ink. There is also a stray thread sticking out from one of the pages that seems to match the tan binding thread. There is also a page where I got a mouthful of red-brown ink due to what seems to be an ink spill of some sort on one of the pages. Stanford also added a seal on a couple pages. Lastly (even more curiously) there seems to be a page ripped completely out of the book.

Finally, the content of the book, which while all in Latin—and some Greek—is about our solar system and Copernicus’s findings in relation to a Heliocentric system along with the revolutions of the planets around the sun (also includes the moon around the Earth).

I will now pass the mic to my research assistant at SDSU—Sierra Beggs—for further postulation. Now, one particular feature I found particularly interesting is the embossed Stanford seal mentioned previously by Dr. Bookworm. First, it is important to try and pinpoint when Stanford had the book.

Stanford acquired the book as a gift from one Mr. Alfred W. Van Sinderen sometime between 1945 and 1990. Since Van Sinderen graduated Yale in 1945, and subsequently went to Harvad to get a business degree, it is more than likely to have been sometime in the 1950s-1980s (Yale Van Sinderen, Life of Van Sinderen, Death of Sinderen). Since it is a rare item, it would make more sense for it to be acquired by him and gifted to the Stanford library after becoming more established. But the main point to be made is that the seal itself shows that during this time in Stanford history, ownership of a rare item—and the knowledge inside—was more important than the item itself, instead of an item to be preserved it became a status and power symbol for an ‘elite’ institution.

There is no doubt that Copernicus’s work was revolutionary. His heliocentric solar system became the center of our understanding of our solar system in the present day. It is an invaluable piece of history that needs to be preserved, especially this first edition copy. Stanford already had a bookplate taped on the inside of the front cover, so why use an embossed seal on these precious pages? While inkless, an embossing seal still creates an indelible impression on the front and back of a page, one raised and the other indented. This is an alteration that changes the physicality of the paper. It is something that is irreversible without further damaging the book. This permanent change does not seem to be done for the sake of preservation, but solely to mark possession of the book and leave a mark of prestige.

The seal itself proudly says “STANDFORD LIBRARY,” and includes their famous sequoia tree in the center. It’s a stamp that leaves no interpretation on whose stamp it is, and the all caps gives it this booming effect. It is a stamp that is obvious and forthright. At this point it is more than just saying ‘it’s in our collection,’ but a trace purposefully left to exude a ‘mine, mine, mine,’ mentality. And later down the line when other people flip through its pages, it gives a, ‘look, this was mine once’ mentality. People will—in no uncertain terms—know that the Stanford library once held this piece of history. It’s a very showy way of claiming the book, and one that screams ‘I’m better than you, I’m allowed to mark this piece of history permanently.’ A sign of power. That they have the power to make this mark.

On top of that, if the pages chosen were damaged, then the pages are either deemed as not important, or possibly more important. It is not just marking one, but two pages due to the indentation nature of the seal. All of the seals are in the later half of the book, which is in more pristine condition than the pages in the front half; this is because the front pages seem to have been handled more than the back pages. Stanford, thus, could have believed that the back half must not be as important as the front half of the book, and chose these specific pages for this reason. It is more likely that these pages were deemed as unimportant, and thus ok to be damaged for the seal. After some digging, the first page the seal appears on is the last page of book four chapter three, and the beginning of chapter four, “The moon’s revolutions, and the details of its motions” (Rosen 208) . And also occur on the very last page of the book, which is about “Computing the latitudes of the five planets” (Rosen 379). This could also be evidence for the importance of these pages, as one involves the moon that revolves around us, and the other is the very last page of the book. The moon itself is the closest nonhuman made celestial object to us, which could be seen as very significant. And the last page denotes the end, something Stanford may have wanted to claim—the end of the book as a final calling card. That, in the end, Stanford will be remembered and its prestige will carry on forever.

Overall, the seal is unnecessary, there is no reason that Stanford needed to use an embossed seal with their library’s logo that would aid in the preservation of this historic object nor in the study of it. Instead, it can be seen as a desecration—while it is a part of this specific copy of Copernicus’s book, and thus the book’s history—it does not make it something that was absolutely necessary. The bookplate at the front was enough, even if Stanford was afraid of someone stealing it—which again is about ownership—that did not translate to marking the book in a permanent capacity.

Further points of study are needed to really flesh this idea out. I would like to reach out to the Special Collections at Stanford to inquire about the origins of when the seal was used, when it stopped being used, and if it is still in use today. It would also be interesting to see when exactly they had the book, as it is a rare item, they most likely have archival records on when it was donated and when it was withdrawn. There is no information on their archive site on it, so it is something that requires a one-on-one chat with someone in Special Collections (specifically the Newton collection, because that’s the collection this book was a part of during its time at Stanford). (It would also be cool to translate the Latin Church short hand, just to see the actual reasons the edits were being made—especially because the diagram with sun in the center wasn’t crossed out.) And that curious fiber/hair could also be an interesting point of study. Could it be from one of the workers working on the printing press? Is there any possibility of it being Copernicus’s? (probably not) Or maybe from the church official making the corrections? Lastly, was there really a page ripped out? Was it a mistake? Why was it ripped out and what was on it? All of these are questions I will try and continue looking into.

Now enjoy a couple of photos of me at Special Collections :).

(P.s. I will add the proper MLA citations [not just the links] when my migraine is actually gone.)

Biography of a Book, A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Planets

Posted on October 27, 2025 by Myles Wright

Dodoens, Rembert, et al. A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Plantes : Wherein Is Contayned the Vvhole Discourse and Perfect Description of All Sortes of Herbes and Plantes, Their Diuers and Sundry Kindes, Their Straunge Figures, Fashions, and Shapes, Their Names, Natures, Operations, and Vertues, and That Not Onely of Those Whiche Are Here Growyng in This Our Countrie of Englande, but of All Others Also of Forrayne Realmes, Commonly Used in Physicke. Translated by Henry Lyte and Carolus Clusius, By Me Gerard Dewes, dwelling in Pawles Churchyarde at the Signe of the Swanne, 1578.

This edition of A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Planets, originally written by Flemish physician and botanist Rembert Dodoens, was published in London, United Kingdom in 1578. It is a herbal book, a book that describes plants and their uses. The text is in English, translated from Dutch via French. The cover of the herbal uses the three quarter bookbinding style. The spine and about three quarters of the cover are covered in one material, in this case a thin layer of vellum, while the remaining part of the cover is made with a different material. The vellum appears to be cracked, worn, and peeling in some places. On the left of the front flyleaf of the herbal, a large, vertical signature can be found.

The title page, featuring an elaborate historiated woodcut border, has a section missing, appearing to be cut out manually. Illustrations throughout the herbal are black and white woodcuts by Arnaud Nicolai after drawings by Petrus van der Borcht.

On the verso, or reverse side of the title page, is a coat of arms of Henry Lyte, the translator of this edition. A few pages forward is a portrait of author Rembert Dodoens.

The pages of the herbal are made out of rag-paper, used between the 13th-18th centuries in England. The rag-paper pages are discolored and browned, especially around the corners. This could be due to various reasons such as light exposure, oxidation, or humidity.

Book worm holes can be found throughout the pages, however, they are more concentrated in the front section of the herbal. Each section which describes various plants or flowers features a woodcut print.

Additionally, each section of text begins with a black and white initial, known today as a drop cap. There are inhabited, floriated, and foliated initials throughout the herbal. The text itself is a blackletter typeface, or gothic.

The pages of the 1578 edition of A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Planets by Rembert Dodoens are far from the perfect, blank white pages we see in our modern books today. The pages of Dodoens’ herbal are discolored around the edges and spotted brown, with a trail of holes book worms have left behind. Before the wood-pulp paper, most commonly used today, was invented, book makers used rag paper made from linen and cotton fibers. This material is both resilient, able to preserve itself from 1578 to 2025, but also vulnerable to light exposure, oxidation, and humidity. The narrative of a book is more than just the words inside, but can be found in the physical materiality of the container itself. In our contemporary moment, when books are mass produced and easily bought and sold, we are disconnected from the material history of the book. It has become easy to think of books as static containers of text, rather than organic artifacts. The wormholes and discoloration in A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Plantes reveal the book as an ecological record, revealing how time, environment, and organic decay shape its material identity and the story it tells. These marks not just damage, but serve to remind us that books are more than a static container of text. To be able to truly read this book, you must look beyond the words, and unto the pages that hold them.

The “damage” on this copy of A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Plantes, is what makes it unique, bearing its own story to tell. The discolored pages and wormholes transform it from one of many identical copies, into a unique artifact with its own biography. The marks we are able to see with the visible eye tells a history, without having to read the words at all. This copy is made with rag paper, a process of paper making that uses cotton and linen fibers to create the sheet. This kind of paper making was used in England between the 13th and 18th centuries, before the wood pulp paper we most commonly use today was introduced. Rag paper is a resilient material, as seen through this copy which has been preserved for 447 years. Despite this, it is still vulnerable to light exposure, oxidation, and humidity which has allowed for the discoloration and worm holes to form within the herbals’ pages.

However, the discoloration and holes are more than mere signs of deterioration, they are evidence of the papers continuing life. On the surface, the bookworms that created these holes may be seen as purely destructive, yet, their presence should be viewed as an accidental annotation or marginalia. In chapter 2 of Borsuk’s The Book, she writes that “in addition to minute differences in the binding, each book copy will contain marginalia and other residues of reading that adhere to them thanks to their individual history of ownership and circulation” (Borsuk, 76). The bookworms are now a part of this circulation. Similar to marginalia designed or written by human hands, the wormholes give us a deeper look into the life of the book itself; the human labor that created the pages and the natural processes that have continued to shape it. This herbal has many credited contributors; the author, translator, printer, bookseller, woodcutter, artist, and now the bookworms. The physicality of the book itself tells a story that is over 400 years old. The wormholes reveal and deepen our understanding that a book is more than its text, and one that is never separated from the living world that interacts with it.

By studying the current condition of the book, the physical deterioration of the pages reveals a narrative in itself. The changing colors and textures tell us about when it was printed and published, but also a story of its survival throughout centuries of human and environmental exchange. The visible deterioration of the pages challenges the notion that the book is a fixed vessel of information. We tend to imagine books as timeless, unchanging places of storage, which is tied to their authority. However, this edition of A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Plantes subverts this notion. The discoloration and wormholes found throughout the pages show the instability of the medium itself. Our vessels of textual information are subject to material transformation, despite how we may envision them. This shows us that reading is not a passive consumption of information, but a collaborative process between us, the environment, and the material.

The discolored pages and wormholes of Dodoen’s A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Plantes invites us to reconsider what it means to “read” a book. In order to understand the history behind this edition fully, you must read beyond the printed text. You must read the pages themselves. The stains, the blemishes, and the holes complete the narrative. It is one that reminds us that books are not static containers of text, but living and evolving artifacts that are constantly changing, decaying, and gathering increasing amounts of information. In an age when books are mass produced, the physical condition of Dodoen’s herbal challenges our modern detachment from the materiality of the book, pushing us to see the “book” as part of a larger ecology, as more than a vessel for information.

MIDTERM – A 16th Century Renaissance Beauty

Posted on October 27, 2025 by Mario Escamilla

Part I.

Many of the books that I encountered during our visits to special collections were interesting and very much fascinating, but not as fascinating as the 1554/60s Latin text, Four Books of Rhetoric addressed to C. Herennius / by an uncertain author. Cicero’s/ revised by Paulus Manutius, son of Aldus which translate from its Latin name Rhetoricorvm ad C. Herennivm libri IIII / incerto auctore. Ciceronis … / corrigente Pavlo Manvtio, Aldi filio. One of the oldest if not the oldest Latin-based text that talks about rhetoric and how it was designed to help students create a more powerful speech for themselves. It is a four-part book in which is part talks about a specific rhetoric technique that can help shape your thoughts and emotions as you talk to someone. The author is claimed to be Ciceronis, but there are claims from people saying that he only simply added specific parts of information and that this is simply a compilation of works.

The book is small around 5.5 inches length with a width of 4 inches which deems it as an octavo formatted book and that tells us that this book was designed for more personal use and easier portability. Its cover has been replaced a few times, and we can see that from not only the different color scheme, but also the spine which has multiple different textures with different colors that do not correspond to our cover here. There is also a bit of writing on the bottom of the spine, but I was not able to confirm nor make out to what it was, but I did find it interesting how we are still able to see some of the spine’s lettering regardless of its readability.

The only damage and tear that the outside of the book had was mainly on the spine and we can see it from the top of it where there are 2 different types of materials being used which is most likely animal hide over a pasteboard or piece of wood. The bottom is flaking quite a bit which starts to show the wood like material used for its spine and cover.

How is the spines condition doing? Well, honestly, not too great as the spine will start to crack if you open the book too much which made it difficult to fully open and examine the book, but it is very understandable as to why we cannot open it fully. Due to it being a book that talks about how you can master speech, craft persuasion and such; it’s no wonder many people used this book back in the day and its worn-out spine is the clearest clue as to how many times it was opened and used.

As for writing or markings within the book, there seem to be only writing numbers from the SDSU special collections library which makes sense, but there is one really interesting thing that I cannot wrap my head around. That is the fact that one of the owners decided to color the publishing logo’s anchor orange/brownish which can be seen on the first page of the book when opening it. There are also really dark circles with heavy ink next to the logo as well as another hint of that orange on the top of the page as well. As for illustrations, that is quite literally the only one which is Aldine Press’s logo who are a famous publishing company known for enjoying and reviving classic literature from Greek and Latin stories as close to their original form and storytelling so that modern audiences can enjoy them. Essentially, the cared about persevering books and keeping it authentic to the source material so much so that you knew you had an official copy from them because the book would not have a stench. Speaking about it having a stench, we of course at SDSU have an official copy, and I did confirm that the book does not have a bad stench; in fact, it has a rather dirt like smell to it, but nonetheless, it goes to show how companies cared about preservation because this book is almost half a century old and it does not stink at all!

The book is also bounded by hand using a thread to sew between the pages and the spine. Aldine Press was known for their mixture of technology and hands on creation in which the print was being pressed on the paper while the rest of the book like its cover, and spine were handled by hand. Not only would they be bounded by hand, but the company would allow custom covers to be ordered. Sadly, this one has gone through many different renovations so we will never know if the owner ever ordered it in a custom way or if it just remained with the normal cover that all the copies had.

Part II.

The most interesting thing about this book is the fact that its margins are more than an inch, and the text itself is literally 60% of the pages size. You would think that the page would be filled with letters, but no, its most margins taking up the space which is neat because I would personally want a book this small for its accessibility and I don’t think I would have assumed that it had this much marginal space. It almost seems as though the text is inviting the reader to join the conversation and talk with it, which is so interesting because this is a book that teaches people how to talk in a more critical way.

I could not open the book fully, but there were multiple pages where there were book worm sightings. From the very beginning of the book to the very end, and we can see that the book worm really did dig through a good number of pages. Other than dirt, water and similar stains, book worms were often the hallmark of this book’s “blemishes”, and I think that’s pretty nice because it goes to show how the owners took care of it and how great the material is to a degree. There are other editions of the book in which they have some of the four copies inside the book or all of them such as this one right here. There were none that had a translation inside

As opposed for the copy being modified or have any writing marks on it. There seem to be none and the only “markings” I could find were just corners of the page folded which seems as though someone was reading it and decided to “bookmark” it in a way so that they may continue reading it at a later time.

The text is a Latin rhetoric book that teaches students how to argue, deliver speeches better, have better communication in general. It was widely used during the Renaissance time period and was often regarded as the book to use in school to teach to students. Considering that this is one of the oldest texts in Latin, we must also remember that this is also one of the earliest books that talks about rhetoric which makes it an extremely valuable piece of work for that time period and for the future.

I also do believe that the margins reflect a rather personal use for this book since it is a book about self-improvement in a way. The margins being more than an inch wide is what caught me by surprise because with a small book you would not want the margins to be that wide. You would want the text to fill the page and perhaps be a bit bigger so that you can read it clearer on the go. Ultimately, I can see students reading this book when going to school or simply having it on them to study one of the four books since this one book.

One final thing that really fascinated me from this book was the formatting and structure of certain pages where the text seems to just take its own form sometimes. I couldn’t make the correlation between the formatting and the content itself, but I found it rather beautiful and mesmerizing to look at which fits the standards of the Aldine Press where they would want to make their texts correspond to beauty itself.

Google Document if pictures do not load: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WA-LfcTbBIUQa-FYXQ1VbLDSQPTHxJKcNq0qOWEd2aw/edit?usp=sharing

Midterm- Gustave Doré and His Impact on Commodification and Book Production

Posted on October 26, 2025 by Janesa Brosnan

New York: Cassel, Peter, Galpin, and Co. First Edition, 1866. Printed at J.J. Little and Co.

First edition of this book by this company, continued to print other editions later with different detailing. The binding is thread, and paper is a rag-cotton that shows age with mold. The covering back and front is leather, embossed with gold lettering for the title, and black for the author and illustrator. The front shows a gold outline of an angel holding a sword and spear in front of clouds. Behind the angel’s center is a black shining sun with gold stars marking the page. The black also has gold embossed stars. The interior includes green floral decorative end paper. The edges of all pages are gilded. The first pages are blank, followed by a title page, content page, and introduction. Besides the covers, all lettering is in Roman black font. This book includes 50 printed wood carved illustrations by Gustave Doré and various woodcarvers, with their signatures at the bottom of the artwork. Illustrations are in black ink and cover a whole page. One drawing is protected by film on page 260. Footnotes for chapters and illustrations are included in the book which are printed and not hand done. Footnotes are shown at the bottom italicized, gives context for information, and cites the reference.

Gustave Doré has been known for his captivating and dramatic works, often in religious contexts or themes like Dante’s Inferno and The New Bible. One of the most famous though is John Milton’s Paradise Lost which Doré was commissioned for in an 1866 First Edition by Petter, Galpin, and Co. It includes 50 full plates of illustrations that include scenes of angels, devils, and Adam and Eve. His work was transferred onto full pages that allowed the viewer to see his technique and themes in full view. His variety of intensity of his black lines and edges has made his work captivating for centuries. His ability to display emotion with ink and special detail has allowed the viewer to delve into important themes and understand them fully. With the inclusion of Doré in this mass produced First Edition, it can be seen as an example of how art plays in the system of book production, supply and demand, and what companies deem as important when choosing to have an illustrator.

In this Petter, Galpin, and Co. version of Paradise Lost, the main goal was making the book widespread in popularity and accessibility to lead to more sales. In order to include the illustrations of Doré to boost demand for the book while confining to the fast production speed for mass prints, they used carved woodblock. Various carvers whose names are at the bottom of the illustrations carved Doré’s work into the block so it could be stamped onto the paper. This technique maintained efficiency and a standard quality where each consumer would get the same as the other. It was made to be used over and over, minimizing production time by not having to hand illustrate or make the picture from scratch each time. It creates a certain quality control but also forms the lack of personality in individual books. Every product is to be made as an exact copy. This first edition of Paradise Lost shows the markers of commercialization and emphasis on production and sales, not artistic individualism.

The commission of Gustave Doré and his illustrations are also an example of an artistic choice for the purpose of marketability. Doré was an acclaimed artist of the time that would draw in readers. To have their own piece of Doré, like how people have their own mass printed Monet hanging in their house, gives people access to view prized art. Viewers at the time were drawn to Doré’s work for its impressiveness, emotional depth, and high technique. Knowing that his work drew viewers in, Petter, Galpin, and Co. made the smart decision to choose Doré as their illustrator and figure to drive up sales. The illustrations and techniques used for their print in the book displays the impact of commercialization and commodification on physical book elements. These deliberate choices have changed book production forever as now the most important part isn’t the story, but cheapest and best ways to sell.

Gustave Doré’s illustrations changed how art was incorporated and seen in relation to the text. His full pages of intense scenes crafted by differing shades of black lines immersed the reader into Milton’s story. Through his work, readers were able to picture the different players and scenes which made them more understandable and intriguing. Identifiable contrasts done in the pieces help the reader identify and see physical examples of Milton’s words. In the depiction of the good vs. fallen angels like the seventh and twelfth illustrations, Doré makes sharp contrasts with the amount of shading and characteristics. God-fearing angels are filled with less shading and wings that are soft like waves. The fallen angels and followers of Satan are filled with darker shading and sharper characteristics, like hardened gargoyles. These clear oppositions demonstrate themes of the story of Paradise Lost like light vs dark, good vs. evil, faithful vs. arrogant. These physical markings also create an emotional response to the story whether that’s fear, captivation, or devotion. With these skills and one piece taking up a whole page, Doré made his work equal with Milton’s, stopping the viewer to look in the details and delve into the page. The full page and the heavy artistic descriptions of the story made the book more accessible to readers as it helped comprehension of the story. Including drawings within a story also gives a captivating element to the rest of the story as the fascinating picture urges them to continue reading. Doré’s artistic skills were one of the big selling points that allowed this book to be such a success. With these prints, it spread the range of availability through helping the reader continue the story and comprehend integral themes.

By being commissioned by Petter, Galpin, and Co, Doré helped the industrial and commodification process of books. Through his works being transferred by woodblock and not hand drawn on each paper, it sped up the industrial and commodification process of books. Through his works being transferred by woodblock and not hand drawn on each paper, the creation of this edition can be seen emphasizing easier production which speeds up time between the making and selling of this product. His illustrations themselves were used to draw readers in and sell copies as his work made stories more comprehendible and gave visual aid. The company used Gustave Doré for not just for his artistic ability, but also his image. Knowing his recognition, they purposely chose him as their illustrator, capitalizing on it and using it to boost sales. Doré is a fact that art, its process of creation and inclusion in books has a profound impact on the industry. He was a part in solidifying easy manufacturing, standardization, and accessibility, in the name of money through the addition of his works in widespread media. His artwork will always last through time, but potentially not the book it’s in.

Bibliography of a Book: Ethiopian Magic Scrolls

Posted on October 26, 2025 by Micaela Macario

The Ethiopian Magic Scroll held in San Diego State University’s Special Collections is a unique sacred artifact that embodies both the textual and physical traditions of Ethiopian Orthodox spirituality, where writing, prayer, and healing intersect. The scroll is composed of vellum, a parchment made from tanned goat skin. Anna Culbertson stated that the goats used to create the vellum underwent a spiritual ritual prior to the tanning and parchment making process.

Multiple strips of vellum are stitched together vertically with fine sinew thread, forming a continuous column of text and imagery. The vellum has darkened to a brownish hue from handling and age, and has visible creases suggesting frequent rolling and unrolling. The scroll was multiple feet long and only a few inches wide. The scroll’s shape was intentional as it could be rolled tightly and stored inside a leather case or pouch, worn around the neck or body as an amulet.

The text is written in Ge’ez, the liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Ge’ez is no longer spoken, but is maintained by the Ethiopian church. The script is handwritten in black ink with sections highlighted in red ink to signify divine names. The scroll has painted figures and ornamental borders, including Christian iconography such as angels, crosses, and geometric knotwork. The most prominent figures often hold crosses or protective symbols, highlighting the scroll’s purpose as a defense against evil.

As a physical object, the scroll connects the sacred and the practical. The materiality in the vellum, stitching, ink, and structure reveals that it was not a book meant to be read in silence or stored on a shelf, but rather a living text designed for continuous, bodily engagement. The daily wearability and prayers turn this object into a perpetual instrument, ensuring the wearer’s constant protection.

Scholarly Analysis

At first glance, the Ethiopian Magic Scroll in San Diego State University’s Special Collections appears to be a sacred, delicate, hand-painted manuscript inscribed with prayers and Christian iconography. Yet, unlike most books that rest on library shelves, this scroll was made to be worn. Its intended position on the human body in a leather pouch and hung around the neck reveals its purpose not as a passive text but as a functional instrument of protection. The Ethiopian magic scroll’s wearability, sacred inscriptions, and continual presence transform it into a form of spiritual armor that literally and symbolically shields the body from evil and illness. Examining this artifact through its material form and cultural context reveals how Ethiopian Christians reimagined the book as a living, embodied act of prayer.

The creators of these scrolls were Dabtaras, clerics of the Ethiopian church. Unlike priests, Dabtaras were not formally ordained to lead liturgy, but they played a vital role within the church’s intellectual and ritual life. They served as scribes, scholars, and healers, responsible for copying sacred manuscripts, composing prayers, and making protective amulets such as the magic scrolls. Their work reflected a deep mastery of both theology and traditional medicine, bridging religious devotion with practical care for the community’s spiritual and physical well-being. Dabtaras’ authority came from their literacy in Ge’ez, the liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Although Ge’ez was no longer used in everyday language, Ge’ez remained the language of the Church, and it was reserved for scripture and prayer, thus signifying the scroll’s importance. Because not everyone was able to read Ge’ez, the scroll’s power resided in the presence not in the comprehension of the text. Its power operates through continuous proximity to the human body. When worn, the scroll unites the sacred with the body, transforming the individual into a vessel of continual prayer carried wherever they went. Unlike books confined to churches or homes, this text was mobile and personal operating whenever and wherever the wearer went. The act of carrying it transforms daily life into a perpetual ritual and protection.

The design and materiality of the scroll further reflect its sacred wearability. Made from vellum, tanned goat skin, the material carries both durability and sanctity. Its toughness and flexibility also made vellum ideal for constant daily wear, allowing the scroll to withstand handling, movement, and the natural friction of the body without losing its sacred inscriptions.Goat skin held ritual significance in Ethiopian Christianity, as animal parchment was seen as a pure and suitable medium for its protective and operative role. The scroll’s imagery also reinforces its purpose as Christian figures hold crosses and knotwork borders create protective frames against evil. These visual elements operate as both art and theology, and when worn, they protect the wearer while embodying the faith and artistry.

The Ethiopian Magic Scroll alters our traditional lens of reading for context and redefines what a “book” can be. Prior to this course I thought of books as objects meant to be read, studied, and stored. The Western codex form, with its flat pages, bound spine, and sequential organization. It poses the act of reading as an intellectual engagement with text rather than a physical or spiritual one. The Ethiopian Magic Scroll contrasts this idea. It is not a book to be read for understanding, but rather a book that acts. Its purpose is functional: to protect the person who wears it.

This reframes the scroll not as a static text but as an interface between body, faith, and material culture. As Amaranth Borsuk (2018) explains, “the book is an interface,” a site where the physical form mediates meaning and experience (p. 184). The Ethiopian magic scroll demonstrates this idea by transforming the act of reading into a bodily engagement with the sacred scrolls. In this case, the text’s effectiveness depends on its continual proximity to human flesh changing faith from something read into something physically experienced. The scroll functions less as a container of knowledge and more as a living medium of protection, combining the written word with the daily purpose of faith and survival.

The Ethiopian Magic Scroll exemplifies how material form and religious devotion converge to create a living expression of faith. Its design, function, and continual presence on the body show how the scroll was never merely a written artifact but a sacred technology of protection. These scrolls were examples of sacred religious texts with functionality. The scroll’s physical endurance, through its durable vellum and portable format, symbolizes perpetual spirituality. Just as the goat skin resists deterioration from movement and touch, so too does the wearer’s belief persist amid uncertainty and danger. The scroll thus operates as a form of armor as it shields the individual from harm not through metal or weaponry, but through prayer, inscription, and faith embedded in material form. Its wearability blurs the line between object and person, between belief and body, producing a form of lived spirituality that is both intimate and everlasting.

By merging the sacred with the material, the scroll turns the act of faith into a daily, embodied ritual. The wearer becomes not simply a reader or believer but a participant in the continual activity of prayer. This dynamic relationship differs from Western notions of the book as static, intellectual, and detached from the body. In the Ethiopian context, the book lives through its contact with the human body, its prayers circulating not through spoken language but through the physical act of wearing and carrying. The magic scroll reminds us that meaning can be enacted rather than read, and that the boundary between text and life is far more porous than we often assume.

In this sense, the Ethiopian Magic Scroll redefines what a book can do and what it can be. It stands as both text and belief, theology and technology. A book can be a bridge between divine protection and human vulnerability. Through its sacred materiality and embodied purpose, it reframes reading into presence, and faith into armor.

Midterm: Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Theatrum (1634)

Posted on October 26, 2025 by Delinda Souksavath

PART I: BIBLIOGRAPHIC DESCRIPTION

This copy of Thomas Moffet’s “Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Theatrum” presents as a quarto volume bound in brown marbled calf over wooden boards. The marbling exhibits a distinctive swirled pattern in shades of brown and tan, which I remember from our earlier visits to Special Collection were characteristic of decorative techniques popular in the 18th or 19th century, which gave me an idea that the book was rebound long after its original 1634 publication. The spine features five raised bands with gilt tooling between them, and gilt lettering identifying the work. The binding shows significant wear (particularly at the corners and edges of the boards) with exposed wooden base visible in several areas. The leather on the spine appears somewhat fragile with minor cracking, though the overall structure remains sound.

The text block edges have been treated with gauffering (decorative gilt tooling impressed into the fore-edge, top edge, and tail edge of the assembled pages). This gilding, now partially worn, features an ornamental pattern that I noticed catches the light when the book is positioned at certain angles.

The interior pages are printed on laid paper, which I identified by the visible chain lines and wire marks characteristic of hand-made paper production. The typography employs Roman typeface for the main body text, with italic type used for emphasis and Latin nomenclature. The text is arranged in a single column format on most pages, though I found some pages feature two-column layouts for index. Woodcut illustrations of various insects are integrated throughout the text rather than gathered at the end, appearing both as full-page plates and smaller vignettes integrated into the running text. These illustrations depict bees, wasps, butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, spiders, and other arthropods with varying degrees of anatomical accuracy and artistic detail.

The copy shows evidence of use and circulation across several centuries. Throughout the volume, brown and reddish stains appear on multiple pages, concentrated in certain sections. I think that these discolorations could be food stains or a chemical reaction from environmental exposure, suggesting active handling and consultation of the work over time. There is also minimal marginalia, only one instance of red pencil marks appears to identify certain sections, indicating relatively light annotation by previous readers.

I noticed a small tear that appears near the beginning of the book, and the spine attachment shows some fragility, though I was surprised no pages appear to be missing from the volume. One peculiar feature is a page (page 178) that contains only faint ghosted text and hand-drawn ruled lines forming what appears to be a taxonomic diagram or classification chart, with the word “Insectorum” visible at the top. This suggests either a printing variation, severe fading of the original impression, or the inclusion of a manuscript page.

The text is written entirely in Latin and published in London in 1634 by Thomas Cotes. But the work was actually compiled by Thomas Moffet, an English physician and naturalist who died in 1604, thirty years before publication. The title page names other contributors, including Edward Wotton, Conrad Gessner, and Thomas Penny, indicating this was a collaborative work drawing on multiple earlier naturalists’ observations.

The 1634 edition represents the first separate publication of this material and the London imprint is significant. The imprint represents English participation in the scientific publishing enterprise at a time when much scientific literature still emanated from continental presses in cities like Amsterdam, Frankfurt, and Venice.

The intended audience would have been educated physicians, apothecaries, naturalists, and wealthy collectors with the Latin literacy to access the text and the financial means to acquire what was certainly an expensive volume. And the systematic organization of insect types, from flying insects to aquatic species, reflects early attempts to classify and understand the natural world through observation and description.

I also found the typography and layout serve the intellectual purpose of creating a reference work. A reader looking for information about a certain bug species can find both text and image together because of the graphics immediate integration into the text rather than their collection on separate plates. The use of italic type for Latin names creates visual distinction for classification terminology. Headers and marginalia help readers navigate the content. The decorative engraved title page establishes the work’s status as a serious contribution to natural philosophy while the ornamental elements (the elaborate beehive design surrounded by insects) visually communicate the subject matter before a word is read.

PART II: SCHOLARLY ANALYSIS

When I examined the book, I found that the most striking feature is not visible when the book sits closed on a shelf. It is only when the volume is opened and angled toward light that the fore-edge reveals a glinting secret. The text block edges have been embossed and gilded with decorative tooling, transforming what I found was originally a utilitarian reference work on insects into an object of hidden beauty. This decorative treatment, almost certainly applied decades or even centuries after the book’s original publication, tells a compelling story about how a 17th-century scientific text was re-valued, preserved, and collected across time. The gilt edges, considered alongside the later marbled calf binding, reveal how this particular copy evolved from a working reference consulted by naturalists into a treasured artifact suitable for a gentleman’s library. It is quite a transformation that speaks to changing attitudes toward scientific books, collecting practices, and the material culture of knowledge.

Edge gilding and gauffering (the application of gold leaf and decorative impressed patterns to the trimmed edges of a text block) serve both aesthetic and practical functions. Practically, gilding protects paper edges from dust, moisture, and handling damage, particularly important for frequently consulted reference works. Aesthetically, gilt edges immediately signal a book’s status as a luxury object. However, gauffering, which involves pressing decorative patterns into the gilt surface using heated tools, serves purely ornamental purposes. I think that the presence of gauffered edges on this volume indicates that at some point in its history, likely during an 18th or 19th-century rebinding, an owner decided this scientific text merited decorative enhancement beyond mere preservation.

The economic and social implications of this decision are significant. Edge gilding was expensive, requiring skilled craftwork and actual gold leaf. Gauffering demanded even more specialized expertise. These were treatments typically reserved for prayer books, presentation copies, or volumes destined for aristocratic libraries. Not the usual fate of working scientific reference texts. The choice to gild this entomology book’s edges suggests the owner saw it not merely as a source of information about insects but as an object worthy of display, a marker of cultivation and learning. The book had been transformed from a tool for understanding the natural world into a symbol of the owner’s relationship to that knowledge.

This transformation is further evidenced by the marbled calf binding, which almost certainly replaced whatever original binding the book had when it left Thomas Cotes’s London printing shop in 1634. From our lectures, we learned that early modern scientific books were typically sold unbound or in simple, functional bindings, as noted in the Borsuk quotation provided in our assignment materials. Books were “bound to order” according to purchasers’ preferences and budgets. A worker might have had the volume bound in a plain calf or even vellum over pasteboards, durable and serviceable but unadorned. The elaborate marbled pattern visible on this copy’s covers, combined with the raised bands and gilt tooling on the spine, represents a much more expensive binding style that gained popularity in the 18th and 19th centuries, particularly in England and France.

When we went to special collections, we learned that marbled papers and leather bindings were associated with collectors libraries and institutions. I think that the swirled brown and tan pattern on this volume’s boards would have been created by floating pigments on a size bath and carefully transferring the pattern to paper or, in this case, directly to leather. Which I found to be a rather time-consuming decorative technique. When paired with the gilt-tooled spine featuring raised bands and lettering, this binding announces the book as a collectible item. Something to be preserved and admired as part of a curated library rather than simply used and discarded when worn out.

I wonder what precipitated this transformation when examining this book, but I found several possibilities emerge from the book’s history. The 1634 “Insectorum Theatrum” was already becoming a rare book by the 18th century. As entomology developed as a discipline, with Linnaeus’s systematic classification revolutionizing natural history in the mid-1700s, early works like Moffet’s gained historical significance. What had been a current reference became a historical artifact, an early milestone in the development of entomological science. I think a scholar with interests in natural history might well have sought out a copy of Moffet’s work not to identify insects encountered in the field but to possess an important text in the history of the discipline. For such a collector, having the book professionally rebound with marbled covers and gilt edges would integrate it appropriately into a library where material presentation reflected the significance of intellectual content.

It is worth considering what was lost and what was gained in this transformation. The rebinding likely destroyed whatever evidence of earlier ownership and use the original binding might have preserved. Early annotations, repairs, or even pressed insect specimens that might have been tucked into the book’s pages could have been discarded during the rebinding process. The gilt edges required trimming the text block, potentially affecting marginal notes or cropping illustrations. In exchange though with the loss of all that, the book gained centuries of protection. The gilt edges have indeed helped preserve the paper, and the sturdy binding has kept the text block intact through what appears to be extensive handling, as evidenced by the wear to the leather but relative lack of damage to the interior pages (save for the mysterious stains and one small tear).

The minimal marginalia in this copy (just one instance of red pencil marks) may itself be a consequence of the rebinding and gilt edge treatment. Once a book has been transformed into a prestige object, I find that I often become reluctant to mark it. The earlier brown stains suggest active use before the rebinding, but the relative cleanliness of the pages otherwise and almost non-existence of annotations may indicate that after its transformation into a collector’s item, the book was more often displayed than consulted. It had become, in Borsuk’s terms, more copy than book. Valued for its unique material properties rather than as a reproducible vehicle for intellectual content.

The book’s eventual journey to San Diego State University represents yet another transformation, this time from private collector’s treasure to institutional teaching resource. The modern bookplates mark its incorporation into a research collection where it serves neither its original purpose as current scientific reference nor its 18th or 19th-century purpose as prestige display object, but rather as a primary source for understanding the history of science, book history, and material culture. Precisely what we are using it for in this assignment. The penciled notations on the pastedown, including what appears to be a four-figure monetary value, reflect its identity as a rare book with measurable market value, tracked and catalogued within institutional archives.

The gilt and gauffered edges, then, serve as a hinge point in this book’s biography, marking the moment when it ceased to be simply a 17th-century entomology text and became a historical artifact worthy of preservation and display. These decorative elements transformed a working tool of natural philosophy into a marker of taste, learning, and collecting ambition. They physically altered the book while simultaneously protecting it, ensuring its survival into our own era where it can be studied not for information about insects but for what it reveals about how scientific knowledge has been valued, preserved, and transmitted across centuries. The gold leaf catching light on the fore-edge represents not just skilled craftsmanship but the accumulated meanings and values that have accrued to this particular copy as it passed through different hands, different centuries, and different regimes of knowing and collecting. What we hold when we examine this volume is not simply Moffet’s text, nor even just a 1634 printing of that text, but the material record of over three centuries of readers, owners, and collectors who each inscribed their relationship to knowledge onto the book’s physical form, most visibly and permanently through the gilt edges that continue to shine four hundred years after the text they protect first emerged from Thomas Cotes’s London press.

“Carl Linnaeus: The Man Who Classified Us Homo Sapiens.” The Nat, www.sdnhm.org/blog/blog_details/carl-linnaeus-the-man-who-classified-us-homo-sapiens/121/#:~:text=Linnaeus’%20work%20created%20and%20popularized%20a%20naming,Linnaeus%20died%20of%20a%20stroke%20in%201778.

Kelber, Shelley. “Fore-Edge Gilding and Decorating.” Books Tell Us Why, 12 Jan. 2021, blog.bookstellyouwhy.com/fore-edge-gilding-and-decorating.

specialcollectionslearning. “Gauffering.” UoA Collections, 16 Mar. 2022, aberdeenunicollections.wordpress.com/2020/06/01/gauffering/#:~:text=The%20term%20gauffered%20edges%20is,costly%20addition%20to%20a%20binding.

Visualized Mathematical Word

Posted on October 26, 2025 by JJ Rezaei

The first printed edition of Elements by Euclid on May 25, 1482–also the first printed book to include geometrical diagrams (SDSU Special Collections). A gold line runs along the edge of the black pigskin binding, complementing the gold title on the spine and green covers. On both sides, the spine is separating from the binding, the split revealing dark orange. The fore-edge is a dark, vibrant red which bleeds into the pages occasionally.

The flyleaf is annotated “Hain-Copinger*6693 Proctor 4383”. The leftmost inch of the flyleaf contains some kind of tape or glue, potentially as a result of earlier repair. The paper is thicker and with stronger grooves than the rest of the book. The first page of the book block contains a name in watery brown ink. It reads “Rizancdi Rizax Ph., is.M., 17 amicoz”. The ink and handwriting remain consistent throughout. Despite being otherwise empty, it contains one of the strongest fingerprint markings in the whole book on the bottom right and significant staining Overall, fingerprint markings and other staining is much more noticeable in the beginning and last 15-20 pages

Edited increased brightness and contrast for added effect.

The following two pages contain an introduction of some kind in Gothic type. The left page is only writing, however, the right page has a floral woodcut and woodcut historiated initials. The woodcuts were floral, resembling flowers and leaves. The second page also contains the introduction of geometric shapes. Pilcrows (used to indicate paragraphs) are scattered throughout. The first woodcut of the book also makes an appearance, of the biggest size present in the book. The rest of the writing in this book follows this format.

There are no page numbers throughout the book. Readers can keep track of their place and reference sections with the book number and its’ subheading. Each paragraph begins with a woodcut historiated initial which reflects the woodcut in the introduction. The sizing depicted below was most common, though it would occasionally be larger.

Diagrams

Geometric diagrams are a vital part of this book and are present on most pages. Fundamental parts are straight lines and circles. These form the basis of various semicircles, circles, squares, rectangles, triangles, crosses, and more. Occasionally, squiggly lines are used to form these shapes..

Often, the vertices are labeled with printed letters in the same font as the rest of the text (henceforth called variables). Variables are occasionally placed in blank spaces, such as variable a in the middle triangle below. Diagrams often have imperfections. As circled in red below, the semi-circle at the top has a hole next to variable h, the bottom right vertex of the middle triangle is incomplete, and the bottom right triangle’s vertex is missing near variable e. Similar imperfections are present throughout the book.

The image to the right displays two circles of differing sizes yet joining at one intersection. Despite the precision necessary for this diagram, both circles are disconnected for a similar length.

Complexity of the diagrams increases over the course of the book, indicating an increased complexity of the material. There is a sharp increase in variables and number of lines.

3-Dimensional shapes begin to appear in conjunction with more complex diagrams. Such an example is the triangular prism to the left. This comes in tandem with diagrams to support the 3-D diagram, as illustrated to the right of the triangular prism where the author decided to include a 2-dimensional demonstration of the lengths of distance in the triangular prism.

Circles take a slightly different form as the complexity of the material increases.

The circle is much more regular when it is inscribed, as shown in the bottom right diagram. When a circle is circumscribed, the printing method tends to create small divots at each vertex, as seen in the diagram to the left and top right. Given the pervasiveness of this quirk, it is not likely that it was intentional.

Marginalia

In terms of marginalia, there is a brown penned notetaker throughout the book. They annotate certain sections more than others. Their handwriting, pen color, and method of notetaking remains consistent throughout the book, alluding to a single reader

The most common form of annotation is additional variables added to the diagrams. These are rarely paired with additional calculations. Common in certain sections were annotations in Latin, occasionally paired with underlines or insertions (“carrots”).

Early into the book, there is small hole surrounded by ink. The edges of the hole are irregular, indicating some kind of accidental and natural damage (as opposed to the fine line of something such as, say, scissors). The ink is stronger on one side of the page (see Figure 14) than the other (see Figure 12). The pages before and after have no visible marks of damage

Miscellaneous Markings

The damage resembles an annotation next to the left of the diagram. The unintelligible letter implies a mistake in printing or annotation. It is possible that the paper got soaked due to a surplus of ink, causing a tear.

Stains are easiest found towards the beginning and end of the book, but they are not impossible to find in the middle and end. Stains are typically brown or gray. On the bottom right corner of pages, they are typically the size of a fingerprint and gray. When brown, they are large light-colored splotches or deep dark brown sections.

The End(sheets)

On the bottom of the latter quarter of the book contains a wormhole. The endsheet and cover are not damaged by it. The endsheet is in good condition, with very little staining and damage. Nor is there sign of repair, unlike the flyleaf.

One of few signs of use on endsheet is small handwriting on the top right, written in pencil. There is no similar marginalia throughout the whole book.

Analysis

This edition of Elements was published in the height of the Renaissance and was the first book to have printed geometric diagrams. Printing allows for the mass production of books. Complexity does not make a significant difference once the initial print is made. Diagrams with many different shapes and variables were created for unprecedented numbers of people. The ability to print diagrams allowed for complex visualized math to reach the hands of more people than it had ever been able to in the past. This was all done during a time when science as we know it today was more important to the general population than it ever had been. I chose to write about the diagrams in this book as they provided intellectual accessibility in the middle of a period of massive cultural change.

Within geometry, the Oxford English Dictionary defines diagrams as “a figure composed of lines, serving to illustrate a definition or statement, or to aid in the proof of a proposition”. This definition feels lacking the cultural context of a diagram. The broader definition given by Oxford English Dictionary is “an illustrative figure which, without representing the exact appearance of an object, gives an outline or general scheme of it, so as to exhibit the shape and relations of its various parts” (emphasis added). Diagrams display what you need to know of complicated visual concepts to understand them. They exist for the same reason why this class goes to Special Collections every Tuesday—visualization is essential to understanding. The diagrams in this book were evidently important to the learning process because they were present on almost every page of the book. The gold outline on the binding of this book and the red fore-edge shows that this was a high-quality book for the time. Yet, though the quality was above average, it was not rare to see variables off-center or lines which were incomplete or smudged. This goes to show that the quality of this book was not necessarily in its’ aesthetic—rather, it was in the knowledge it made available.

Mathematics is a theoretically heavy subject which is the basis of many scientific discoveries and explanations. Without geometric diagrams, it was significantly more difficult to understand complex mathematical concepts. The Renaissance put man at the center of the universe–there was an unprecedented surge in science and technology in conjunction. The diagrams in this book put complex mathematical concepts in an understandable and accessible form for the first time. The fundamental basics to scientific and mathematical discovery were made more easily understandable than they had ever been. In other words, the diagrams in this book are a direct reflection of the revolutionary values of the Renaissance.

The creation of the diagram put it in the hands of an individual to teach themselves concepts. By making it easier to learn complex topics, the teacher is no longer necessary. Learning becomes an isolated activity. In other words, by making it easier to self-teach and visualize complex mathematical theories, learning as a social activity is obsolete. If the medium is the message, then the message of mathematics turned into one of the relationship between human and their book. Reflecting man-centered ideas of the universe, it was no longer necessary for one person to teach another core ideas of their world. Mass-publication of the bible and increased literacy coincided with the decline of Catholicism as a pervasive social structure. It was no longer necessary for there to an arbiter of what is and is not a moral action because the people had gained the ability to read the bible directly and make decisions for themselves. Similarly, there was no longer a need to learn math in a classroom setting to the same degree because it was possible to own a book which showed you it directly. Students were able to teach themselves concepts in a manner which provided them with an agency in how to approach the material.

Reminiscing on Marshal McLuhan’s words: “we march backwards into the future”, the popularization of mathematical diagrams makes me think of modern forms of math education. Since the Renaissance and the publication of this edition of Elements, there have been thousands of versions of math and geometry textbooks. Yet, nothing compares to the change which was the video. Animation has made it possible to show diagrams in a dynamic manner. YouTube and other video platforms provided audio-visual learning experiences which made it possible to learn and review complex topics at any point with unprecedented ease. The parallel I am trying to draw here is between something like Elements with its’ diagrams and modern educational YouTube videos which use a variety of animation styles to teach an audience. The intellectual accessibility which animation has provided reflects that of the diagrams in Elements.

Works Cited

“Diagram, N., Sense 1.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, July 2023, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1591277285.

“Diagram, N., Sense 2.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, July 2023, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1021068184.

Euclid., et al. Preclarissimus liber elementorum Euclidis perspicacissimi: in artem geometrie incipit qua[m] foelicissime. Translated by Adelard, [Erhard Ratdolt], 1482.

Midterm: 1866 Edition of Milton’s “Paradise Lost”

Posted on October 26, 2025 by Dakota Goodman

New York: Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co. An 1866 first edition of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, illustrated by Gustave Doré. This book is featured in San Diego State University’s Special Collections. The book is bound in a brown pebbled leather cover. It is embossed with black ink and embellished with gold foil along the spine and front of the cover. The cover features the image of an angel holding a sword and spear with an embossed black sun with golden rays behind the angel. The title is inlaid with gold foil and curves around the sun. On the back of the book, a symmetrical floral design is embossed into the leather. Inside the cover, there are white and pale green endpapers with a floral design. The edges of the pages are gilded and retain most of the gold. There is mild scuffing on the spine and along the edges of the cover. The pages are made of rag cotton paper and have slight foxing throughout the book. They are bound together with thread and are mostly intact, however the first few pages are loose. The entire book is printed in black in and uses a roman font. The text is also large and easy to read. This edition includes notes and a biography written by Robert Vaughan, D.D. in which he explains the life of John Milton. Scattered throughout the book are large plates that were illustrated by Gustave Doré. Each of them are caption with a quote taken from the text.

Gustave Doré’s Illustrations in Milton’s Paradise Lost

In 1866, the publishing house, Cassell, Petter Galpin & Co. published a new edition of John Milton’s Paradise Lost. This book delves into the rebellion of Satan and his journey to seek revenge on God which results in the downfall of Adam and Even and thus humanity. This edition was accompanied by 50 wood carved etchings made by Gustave Doré, an artist famous for his depictions of literary classics such as Dante’s Inferno and Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. These etchings are incredibly detailed and are easily recognizable today. Although Doré’s etchings are intricately beautiful, they serve a larger purpose than aesthetics. Doré’s illustrations help aid the reader understand the content of Milton’s work and enhance their reading experience leading to the revitalization of the poem.

Throughout Milton’s poem, Gustave Doré’s illustrations are included every few pages, ranging from depictions of the fall of Satan to the temptation of Eve and her exile from Eden alongside Adam. In order to make these images, Gustave Doré designed each plate before handing the illustration to a group of woodcarvers who crafted the etchings that were used for printing. In the 1866 edition of Paradise Lost, each plate takes up a full page with a small caption of a corresponding quote from the passage. The large size of both the page and plate allows the reader to fully examine the image and absorb the content completely. Due to Milton’s dense content, Doré’s work offers visual aid. The illustrations break up the long passages and depict specific scenes. Though they are carved into wood, the carvings have high levels of detail, displaying incredible emotion in the characters. There is also high contrast between the deep shadows and bright highlights, which further depicts the juxtaposition of holiness and sin. These excruciatingly sharp details allow the reader to make their own interpretations of Milton’s work. Readers could synthesize what they believed through Milton’s words and Doré’s images.

Illustrations can greatly impact a reader’s experience, especially for a book that is as heavy and dense as Paradise Lost. The illustrations that are included in the 1866 edition of Paradise Lost is no exception. The article by Sarah Howe, “Illustrating Paradise Lost,” discusses the first edition of Paradise Lost, in which there were no images to accompany it and resulted in mediocre sales in the late seventeenth century. She writes, following the publication, “The poem’s popularity gradually grew, but by 1687, no new edition of Paradise Lost had appeared on the shelves for a decade.” She goes on to explain that in 1688, a publisher named Jacob Tonson published a new edition of Milton’s work which featured artwork from three artists. This new edition became extremely popular and reignited intrigue in Milton’s poem which resulted in Tonson “realis[ing] that pictures sold books and in doing so, set Milton on the path to becoming a national classic.” Tonson’s publication, “Paradise Lost: Adorn’d with Sculptures,” paved the way for future editions such as the 1866 edition with Gustave Doré’s etchings. Tonson’s realization is crucial in understanding how images can influence a reader. Much like diagrams included in textbooks, the illustrations in Paradise Lost help the reader break down what is happening in the book. The images were meant to convey what Milton wanted and to Doré’s illustrations allowed for readers to view the content in a new light and see what Milton was trying to convey. With nearly 200 years between the first publication of Paradise Lost and Gustave Doré’s illustrated edition, his artwork is crucial to breaking down Milton’s meaning. The intense images are harrowing and unsettling, thus provoking the reader to take a deeper look into the artwork and the messaging behind it. The accessibility of Doré’s artwork and Milton’s words is also aided by the inclusion of footnotes within the book. In the book, some of the pages had small footnotes that explained certain phrases or meanings. This inclusion makes it clear that this edition was meant to be studied and interpreted, making it far more accessible to the common reader.

In addition to making the content accessible to readers, Gustave Doré’s etchings became an accessible way for people to own art in their homes. During the Victorian era, art was available through purchase if you were wealthy enough to afford it as well as reproductions in cheaply made books and magazines. A book like the 1866 edition of Paradise Lost, allowed for more art distribution since it came with the book. With this book, people were no longer just reading Milton’s poem, but rather immersed themselves through the artwork too. The owner of the book would have been able to own 50 pieces of artwork stored within the large pages, which is an incredible amount in an era where art was difficult to come by if you didn’t have the means to afford it. In this edition of Paradise Lost, accessibility is a key feature, seen through both the format and the artwork.

In conclusion, Gustave Doré’s illustrations in this book have also made a large cultural impact on how the world views Paradise Lost. His work has become synonymous with the poem and is easily recognizable. For years, his artwork has drawn people in and immersed readers into the poem with his rich, dramatic compositions. He allowed readers to view Milton’s poem with new eyes and made the heavy text more understandable through his dramatic yet intricately beautiful etchings. Through the size and formatting of the plates within the 1866 edition, Doré’s work made it easier for readers to see the intricate details and allowed them to fully appreciate and admire the artwork. The inclusion of his art in the publication made it so readers were able to own their own pieces of artwork and even influenced the sales of the edition. Within the 1866 edition of Milton’s Paradise Lost, Gustave Doré’s work is highly influential, admired, and sought after. It has become a crucial part of Paradise Lost’s identity and will continue to lure in readers for years to come.

Works Cited:

Howe, Sarah. “Illustrating Paradise Lost” Darkness Visible. Christ’s College at Cambridge University. 2008. https://darknessvisible.christs.cam.ac.uk/illlustration/illustration.html

BLAST – Midterm

Posted on October 26, 2025 by Nina Galindo

Volume 1 of BLAST published by John Lane Publishing in 1914. It is a Fair condition, damaged on its cover and spine but completely legible. It was Published on June 20th, 1914 and edited by Wyndham Lewis, including his own works and the contributions of a variety of different authors and artists. This book is part of a literary journal which spanned over two volumes, the first printed in 1914 and the second in 1915. It was printed in England in English by Leveridge and Co., St. Thomas’ Road, Harlesden with a letter press. It is a presentation of the art movement of Vorticism through an editorial collection of Manifestos, Critiques, Articles, and Photographs composed by multiple different contributors. This one is a copy of volume one from within San Diego State University’s Special Collections Archive, which acquired the book in 2016.

Displaying IMG_4611.jpeg — Front Endpaper

The book is a soft cover journal featuring a faded magenta pink color on its mirrored with its title, BLAST, printed diagonally across both the front and back covers in large Grotesque No. 9 font. This book is in legible and clean condition, however the spine and the cover are both damaged. The cover is legible but torn at the edges and completely detached from the volume, its color is also faded at the center, turning slightly brown from pink. The spine is also damaged, a large portion is exposed while other pieces of the cover have stayed on. Because of this delicate spine the book may only be opened a quarter, not fully flat. Although the book does feature signs of its age through its deteriorated cover and spine, evidence of previous ownership is sparse. The pages in the interior of the book are made of wood pulp and are in a better condition than the cover, they are clean with no additional annotations. There are no additional plates, handwriting, or stamps within the copy to describe ownership.

Displaying IMG_4626.jpeg — Front and Back Covers

BLAST features a variety of texts as well as whole pages dedicated to illustrations pressed on by woodcuts. There are also various photographs which are printed on a different type of paper, they are printed in black and white ink on a glossy sturdy stock of paper instead of the wood pulp paper used in the rest of the journal. The illustrations and the photographs are created in the Vortist style, blocky, with stark and defined lines and shapes.

Analysis:

Blast is composed of a multitude of texts. It includes a play, poems, art, photographs, letters, and critiques. It is mostly pressed in Grotesque no.9 font in a variety of different sizes and placements among the pages. It is a review of, “the Great English Vortex,” (Lewis 1), edited and written by Wyndham Lewis with contributions from writers and artists, Ezra Pound, Ford Maddow Huefffer, Rebecca West, Edward Wadsworth, Gaudier Brzeska, Frederick Etchells, W. Roberts, Jacob Epstein, Cuthbert Hamilton, and Spencer Gore. This first volume is not a stand alone edition, a second volume was published the year after the first in 1915. No other volumes were published after, many of those involved in writing pieces for BLAST joined the troops to fight in the first World War, and afterward “after the war…Blast out in 1915, the “War Number” would be the magazine’s last.” Therefore, efforts to publish a third edition failed. The journal was created to express Vorticism as an artistic movement. In the 1914 publication, BLAST vol 1, writer Wyndham Lewis diverged from the standard writing and printing styles of the time to introduce the vorticist style to London. The cover of his journal featured a bright pink color and large, bold, and slanted title, it is the pinnacle of his vorticist style through those features. The intention of this cover is to introduce that style, blast it in the reader’s eyes, and to encompass one of the messages within the journal, that writers and readers, should want to indulge in the “now” of literary art, which was bold, abstract, and new, not the past or future, but the present.

Published in London, England the journal immediately presents an abstract aesthetic when compared to other trends and formats in published work from the period and in the years before. It counters any sort of expected presentation, blasting it apart and presenting the vorticist style. Vortisim was an art movement created by Lewis, meant to, “create art that expressed the dynamism of the modern world,” The movement is introduced right from the cover, the bright vuschia color being an attention grabbing color on any shelf or surface, while the title makes a readers take a pause, wanting to know more about the publication based on what is left on and off the cover. The title, “BLAST” is printed diagonally, left to right across the cover in large, thick, black letters in Grotesque no.9 font on top of the hot pink soft cover. The cover is not delicate and finely printed, it does not feature the names of the authors or publishers upon it, it only relies on its new style, reminiscent of cubism and feeling abstract in its placement to attract readers and represent its text. The cover is a perfect representation of the entire rest of the journal as the text within will follow the message and structure that it presents and introduces.

The message of the cover is “BLAST.” Blast as a word means to destroy, to break something apart, as a title that word conveys that the writers aim to blast, break apart from the norm and create a style of literary art that is new and current, not a repetition of previous forms and works. Vorticisim is that style which the writers choose to employ to blast the previous. It is a, “combined cubist fragmentation of reality with hard-edged imagery derived from the machine and the urban environment, which relies on, “a bold blend with harsh lines and harsher colors. Instead of abstraction the Vorticists developed a vivid geometric style, which set apart their typography.” The art style of Vorticism is presented by the initial, “BLAST,” of the cover communicated through the rotation of the text to be diagonal and gigantic, bold and dark across the face of the journal contrasting against the equally bold magenta background. The style is laid throughout the rest of the journal, the manifestos within the first forty pages featuring the art style through the fragmented spacing of their text, the bolded type, and the abrupt, concise statements.

The text of the journal does not only follow the artistic style established by the cover, but its language and tone aswell. “BLAST,” printed in all capital letters, shouts at the readers, it is meant to trap the reader’s attention not only producing an image of destruction, but by presenting a statement and phrase that the text will expand upon. The body of the journal follows in the step of the title and continues to shout and exclaim toward the reader, the manifesto supplying many BLASTs and BLESSING toward the reader in the same tone conveyed by the cover.

By the vorticist art of the page the statements of the writer are efficiently communicated and ennunciated. Instead of a simple critique or insult toward England, for example, Lewis is able to practically yell his words toward the reader, not relying on extra characters, terms, or languange, but instead on the shape and space that the words take on the page, demanding more attention and feeling from the reader. The readers of BLAST would have been reading from such a format for the first time, the style, vorticisim being a new art by Lewis; the new artistic style was novel to readers, being introduced to it from the cover and exploring it throughout the entirety of the work. Because of the new literary art style that BLAST was presenting its intended audience for reading was those participating in the London art scene. The creators of the work signed their names in its manifesto; they were a group of, “young writers and artists,”who were part of that scene.

Intriguingly, Lewis speaks directly to the readers to explain where to procure more copies of the journal. Although BLAST was printed at Leveridge and Co. at, St. Thomas’ Road, Harlesden, on the flyleaf of the journal these readers are even invited to get more copies of BLAST from Lewis himself, “Copies may also be obtained from MR. WYNDHAM LEWIS, Rebel Art Centre 38, Great Ormond Street, Queen’s Square, W.C. (Hours, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.)”

Displaying IMG_4640.jpeg — Print House and Rebel Art Center

However, even though BLAST is advertised by Lewis to be able to be received from the address he provides, the publishing company of the journal, John Lane Publishing also advertises their own publications at the end of BLAST. They include a list of the Memoirs, Biographies, Fiction, and Novels that they publish, however these are notably not printed in the Vorticist style.

Displaying IMG_4628.jpeg — John Lane’s Publications List

The cover of BLAST introduces the written style of Vorticism to the reader, as well as the art style of Vorticism. In the journal is a woodcut image by Edward Wadsworth pressed directly on the page as well as a printed reproduction of his art.

Displaying IMG_4621.jpeg — Woodcut by Wadsworth

The art by Wadsworth throughout the journal compliments the written works, being formed by their same structure and producing it in image instead of text. The cover of the journal echoes this, the cover is not just a piece of text, but art as well. It is a line formed by text striking through a pink canvas, all of BLAST is part of art, the cover remains an introduction to all of the art of the text, not just the style of the type, but the entire artistic Vorticist movement meant to be created. The styles of the cover, the text, and the art pieces all follow the Vorticist intention to “intended more to express a feeling and mood than tell a story or display a distinct picture,” the positions of the subject of the works, the size of “BLAST,” the placement of text, and the image of the art are express the feelings of the writers and artist first, and elaborate on their distinct message second

BLAST was used by Wyndham Lewis and his collaborators to present the art of Vorticism to London. Initiating their art from the cover, they introduce the reader immediately the art form, blasting them with “BLAST,” on a bright pink surface. Using this cover they are able to prepare the expectations of the reader for the art that they will ingest by reading the journal, allowing them to know that they will be seeing an art that is new that blasts the old away and that is not for, “the sentimental future.” but for the now, for the present. (Lewis 7).

Works Cited

“Blast: Review of the Great English Vortex (1914-15).” Omeka Library, omeka.library.uvic.ca/exhibits/show/movable-type/the-book/blastmagazine1.html#:~:text=The%20Magazine.%20Blast%20was%20printed%20in%20July,and%20to%20brand%20it%20as%20being%20English . Accessed 26 Oct. 2025.

“How Blast Magazine Changed Literature Forever.” Type Room, 30 July 2015, www.typeroom.eu/how-blast-magazine-changed-literature-forever .

Morrisson, Mark. “Blast: An Introduction.” Modernist Journals | BLAST: An Introduction, Modernist Journals Project, modjourn.org/blast-an-introduction/ . Accessed 26 Oct. 2025.

“Vorticism.” Tate, www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/v/vorticism . Accessed 26 Oct. 2025. “Wyndham Lewis – Blast, No. 1.”

BOOKS!!

ECL 596. Fall 2025. Professor Jessica Pressman with Anna Culbertson

Category Archives: Midterm Project

Midterm: CLAVDII PTOLEMAEI PE lufienfis Alexandrin

Dr. Bookworm and Sierra Beggs on: De revolutionibus orbium cœlestium and Stanford

Biography of a Book, A Nievve Herball, or, Historie of Planets

MIDTERM – A 16th Century Renaissance Beauty

Midterm- Gustave Doré and His Impact on Commodification and Book Production

Bibliography of a Book: Ethiopian Magic Scrolls

Midterm: Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Theatrum (1634)

Visualized Mathematical Word

Diagrams

Marginalia

Miscellaneous Markings

The End(sheets)

Analysis

Works Cited

Midterm: 1866 Edition of Milton’s “Paradise Lost”

BLAST – Midterm