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

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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

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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)

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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

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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”

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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

The Universe as Book in Celestial Navigation – Mapping the Unknowable

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The artist’s book “Celestial Navigation” was produced in Chicago in 2008 by American book artist Karen Hanmer. Only 30 copies of this handmade work were produced, making it a limited edition. It is clear at first glance that this is not a book in the traditional sense. Celestial Navigation has neither a spine nor firmly bound pages, but consists of several triangular and trapezoidal panels connected by concealed joints. This system allows the user to fold the object into various geometric shapes. Through trial and error, one can form pyramids, prisms, or open, almost architectural structures. This design can be read page by page like a book or unfolded flat to resemble historical star charts or modern NASA composite images. In this way, the work emphasizes the idea of movement and changeability rather than linearity and closedness, as found in the classic codex.

The book appears to be digitally printed, with sharp lines and clear contrast. The typography is a classic serif font in white, which blends harmoniously with the astronomical imagery. The overall appearance is minimalist and cosmic, rigorously constructed yet poetic. The copy is in excellent condition. There are no creases, tears, or discoloration, the edges are clean, and all binding elements are in perfect working order. There are no signs of use, notes, or ownership marks. The surfaces of the individual panels are printed on a black background and feature fine white lines, dots, and inscriptions reminiscent of star charts and celestial diagrams. They are complemented by illustrations of historical astronomical instruments such as sextants, astrolabes, and planispheres.   On the left-hand side of each double page is a text about a star field, and on the right-hand side is a historical star map, creating a rhythmic balance between language and image. This movement through the pages is ultimately resolved in a final double page dominated by empty space. The work thus offers three “paths through space”: a narrative track that addresses loss, and two others consisting of lists of astronomical instruments, symbols of human attempts to understand the heavens. These images refer to the history of astronomy and thus to humanity’s attempt to measure the infinite. By transforming this scientific imagery into a work of art, Hanmer removes its functional purpose and reduces it to pure form. The work thus demonstrates that every human system of knowledge has its limits. The maps of the sky, which once served as a means of orientation, become symbols of the loss of orientation. Hanmer makes it clear that the longing for order in the face of the cosmos inevitably turns into wonder.

In terms of content, Celestial Navigation can be understood as a reflection on orientation, memory, and humanity’s relationship to the universe. The text portion of the work is minimal, consisting of short English fragments integrated into the visual space: “I don’t remember what you looked like,” “I see your face in the stars,” “Like ancient navigators, I look to the sky to find my way back to you,” etc. These pieces of text are not the focus of the reading, but function as poetic elements within the field. They interact with the visual elements and open up room for interpretation on topics such as perception, forgetting, and the unknown. In this way, Hanmer connects the history of celestial observation with the experience of loss. Navigating the cosmos becomes a metaphor for the search for the past, for orientation in the incomprehensible. The sentence “Like ancient navigators, (…)” summarizes the central motif of the book.  The stars serve not only as geographical orientation, but also as existential orientation. The juxtaposition of scientific precision and emotional emptiness creates a work that dissolves the boundaries between knowledge and memory, between map and memory. The work acts as a silent monument that reveals human longing. The sentences seem like intimate memories and personal confessions. Forgetting a face symbolizes the human loss of orientation and the limits of knowledge. This combination of scientific iconography and poetic language creates a tension between order and chaos. Hanmer uses the symbols of astronomy not to explain the sky, but to make the inexplicable visible. Her navigation is not a search for a destination, but a process of constant searching.

Hanmer draws on historical sources of celestial cartography, such as Alexander Jamieson’s Celestial Atlas (1822). Hammer uses their scientific precision in an artistic language and image. Just as the cosmos itself has no center, no direction, and no end, this work also rejects a fixed order. In its changeable, geometric form, it reflects the incomprehensibility and openness of the universe. Every movement of the viewer changes the object, creating new perspectives and simultaneously destroying the previous form. Furthermore, the work rejects the idea of a book as a finished object. Every individual who touches it creates a new version of it. It has no correct form. The reader is thus not a passive recipient, but an active creator. The striking geometric symbolism of the construction, represented by triangles, pyramids, and squares, has been a sign of order and harmony since ancient times. In Hanmer’s work, however, this meaning is reversed: geometry no longer stands for stability, but for movement and impermanence. When the viewer folds the object to create a cavity open at the sides, this space appears dark, deep, and mysterious, like a small black hole. This comparison is not only visually but also conceptually apt. Black holes are places where the laws of physics fail and information disappears. 

Christopher Nolan’s film „Interstellar“ (2014) can also be linked to this insight. Both works take up the idea of the black hole not only as a physical phenomenon, but also as a philosophical one. In Interstellar, the black hole “Gargantua” becomes a place where space, time, and perception collapse, a point where knowledge and experience reach their limits. The situation is similar in Hanmer’s work, as the geometric folding structures create cavities and depths that are visually reminiscent of the interior of a black hole. The viewer looks into these dark openings without being able to comprehend them. Both works thus emphasize the paradox that the attempt to understand infinity inevitably ends in incomprehensibility. 

The work is not addressed to readers in the conventional sense, but to viewers who explore the object through movement and touch. Hanmerk’s work thus appeals to an audience interested in artist’s books, book history, scientific aesthetics, and conceptual art. Through the artificial concept, knowledge is not acquired as linear text, but rather as a spatial and sensory experience. The integrated typography reinforces this idea by allowing the words to “float” within the visual space, turning the book itself into a small model of the cosmos.  

As an artifact, this specimen occupies a position between book, map, and sculpture. Each copy of the edition is handmade and, thanks to its manual assembly, possesses an individual character that is unfamiliar in traditional books. The flexible, foldable structure makes physical interaction a central part of the concept: opening, folding, and reshaping become symbolic “navigation” through space and meaning. Her book art marks a conscious turning point in the history of the book. While early modern celestial maps chart the cosmos in order to organize and control it, Hanmer’s book, on the other hand, allows the incomprehensible to remain. It transforms the idea of navigation into an aesthetic principle. 

Overall, it can be said that Celestial Navigation redefines the book as a physical and intellectual object. The art book can be viewed as a material model for thinking about infinity and ignorance, in which Hanmer combines the precision of scientific representation with the openness of poetic reflection. It is a book that is not read, but explored. In the end, Celestial Navigation remains an object that eludes complete interpretation. It refuses to be unambiguous and thereby creates meaning. Its form and imagery refer to an experience of infinity that is neither rational nor mystical. Celestial Navigation ultimately exemplifies a modern book aesthetic that transforms reading into a physical, meditative act. The work stands for a medium of open thinking. It represents the book as an experience rather than a repository of knowledge.

Where does literature end?

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In his text “Electronic Literature,” Scott Rettberg describes the challenge of rethinking literature in a digital world. He sees electronic literature not as a digital replica of printed texts, but as a completely new literary practice that exploits the full potential of computers. The quote “Electronic literature is the result or product of literary activity created or performed using the computer” stuck in my mind. 

The concept of “literature” is undergoing a fundamental shift. It is no longer bound to pages, printer’s ink, or linear storytelling, but arises from the interplay of text, code, sound, image, and interaction. Where writing used to be the medium of meaning, today animations, algorithms, and digital interfaces also generate meaning. 

Rettberg also shows that electronic literature lies somewhere between art, technology, and experimentation. This opens up many possibilities, as electronic literature can be a visual installation, an interactive poem, or a game. This openness and broad scope make it difficult to define. “The term is somewhat fraught and often challenged as not sufficiently or accurately descriptive,” writes Rettberg. I find Rettberg’s observation that electronic literature simultaneously ties in with the history of literature and dissolves it particularly interesting. The computer does not replace the book, it expands it. Literature becomes a process, not a finished product. This blending of poetry and programming also challenges the role of the reader. Reading no longer means following a text, but controlling it. A click, a selection, an interaction changes the course of the story. We also saw this in the second week with hypertext. The reader becomes part of the system. 

Thus, literature does not end in the digital realm; it loses its boundaries. It becomes fluid, interactive, unpredictable. And that is precisely where its future lies: not in clinging to old forms, but in the courage to reinvent them again and again.

Seeing Ourselves Through Electronic Media

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When I think about electronic media, the first thing that comes to mind is how normal it feels now. Screens have become part of almost everything I do. I wake up to an alarm on my phone, read the news online, study on my laptop, and talk to friends through messages and calls. It’s strange how invisible all of this has become, how natural it feels to live inside something so artificial.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that electronic media are not just tools  they shape how I see the world. When I scroll through social media, for example, the rhythm of the feed trains me to expect constant change. There’s always another post, another notification, another story. It’s not just about information; it’s about movement. The pace becomes the message. I don’t even have to be aware of it, my attention adjusts to the speed.Reading about the history of electronic media helped me understand this differently. The shift from print to broadcast to digital wasn’t just about new inventions. It was about changing how humans experience time and space. Before, you had to wait: wait for the newspaper, for the letter, for the film to develop. Now everything happens at once. Instant communication sounds efficient, but it also means there’s no natural pause anymore. We fill silence with sound, stillness with updates.Sometimes I wonder what that does to our sense of self. With books, I feel like there’s space to breathe time to think between words. With screens, I feel pulled outward, stretched across messages, links, and notifications. It’s not that one is better than the other, but they produce very different kinds of attention. Reading a printed page makes me feel like I’m inside a conversation. Scrolling through a feed feels like I’m standing in a crowd, trying to catch a voice.Yet I also see beauty in it. Electronic media connect people who might never meet otherwise. I’ve learned about art, language, and culture through people’s posts, videos, and even memes. There’s a kind of shared creativity that feels alive. It’s collaborative, fast, and unpredictable. And even though it can be overwhelming, it’s also exciting to witness how human imagination adapts to new forms.I’ve started to think that every generation has its own rhythm of communication. For ours, it’s electronic , quick, bright, and constantly evolving. But what stays the same is the desire to connect. Whether it’s ink on a page or pixels on a screen, we’re still reaching out, still trying to make sense of each other. Maybe that’s what makes electronic media so powerful. They don’t replace older forms of expression, they continue them, just in another language, made of light.

Is Digital Media Scary or Cool? (Yes)

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As Dr. Pressman said in the lecture about Electronic Literature, “any time there’s new tools or technologies, artists play with them.” When watching the lecture, I was amazed at how artists took the computer and coding to another level to create meaningful art and challenge how people interact with the digital world. Though I know AI is relatively new, I feel like it’s been around or at least talked about so extensively that I’ve thought of it as something I’ve known for a while. Which is why I was surprised when, just recently, I saw an artist’s digital artwork that uses the common mistakes and uncanniness of AI art to create their own art. Somehow, though the art was a terrifying amalgamation despite using bright colors, it felt like it had a soul. I enjoyed its dilapidated subject that was blurred and had an odd amount of fingers, but wondered where the wonder and want for creating using technology has gone.  Personally, I feel limited in my use of the digital, especially with corporations shoving their products down my throat. No longer do I have the same curiosities and willingness to sit in front of a computer and simply explore internet spaces. Though I’m aware the internet is practically limitless in the things you can find, nowadays it feels more restricted to a few search engines, similar formats that encourage endless scrolling, and constant advertisements. Seeing all of the creative endeavors that occurred in previous years, with the development of the internet, makes me crave electronic literature. Yet, I also fear the sustainability of electronic literature. 

As we’ve heard in class, things like Mark Marino’s “Marginalia in the Library of Babel,” have gone dark because of a shift in technology. Though “Marginalia in the Library of Babel,” was restored and functions the way it’s supposed to, some other pages from Flash don’t get as lucky as being restored properly. Recently, I revisited my favorite childhood game “Poptropica,” which was ran with Flash, then restored, but not to the same quality as it was in the 2000s. This makes me question when the pages, articles, games, and art I consume online will simply disappear one day, and if they’d feel or be the same as they were. Obviously, it seems like a case-by-case situation, but it still makes me question what we leave behind in order to pursue the new. 

BLAST – Midterm

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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.)”

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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. 

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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.

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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.”