VisibleLink #4: 8 Across: the world's most popular word game.

The First Crossword Puzzle

Crossword puzzles seem to be ubiquitous--what newspaper would dare not have a crossword puzzle? Even if Sudoku is now making headway into the hearts of puzzlers around the world, the crossword has long been a favorite.

But not for as long as you might think. Word puzzles in general go back centuries but the first crossword puzzle wasn't published, surprisingly, until 1913 in the New York World, by Arthur Wynne. Within a decade, puzzles were in every major newspaper in the US, delighting senior citizens and bored college students alike.

Crosswords are kissing cousins with word squares and acrostics. The earliest known acrostic word square is commonly called the Sator word square (a word square can be read horizontally or vertically):

S A T O R
A R E P O
T E N E T
O P E R A
R O T A S

Tony Augarde translates the Sator word square as reading "The sower, Arepo, guides the wheels with care." He argues that the Sator word square/acrostic/palindrome was actually used by persecuted Chrisitans, who needed a subtle way of identifying their brethren. He also writes, "The word tenet, at the centre of the acrostic, forms a cross and the acrostic's letters can be rearranged in that shape:

P
A
T
E
R
P A T E R N O S T E R
O
S
T
E
R

while the remaining letters (two A's and two O's) can be placed at the ends of the cross to represent the alpha and omega--the beginning and the end. the letters can also be arranged to make a prayer: 'Oro Te, Pater; oro Te, Pater; sanas'--'I pray to Thee, Father; I pray to Thee, Father; Thou healest.' "

Augarde, Tony. The Oxford Guide to Word Games. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1984.

InvisibleLink #4: "Where did I put that backpack?"

White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack, Peggy McIntosh

I often use Peggy McIntosh's article, "White Privilege," when I teach basic essay composition.* It is a "theoretical" article, but the students (probably because of the lists) are generally able to grasp the major concepts and we can fill in the other bits together in class. I like the article because it opens many students's eyes (no matter their background) to what kinds of privileges certain groups enjoy over others. McIntosh writes:

I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets that I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was "meant" to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools , and blank checks.

One of my favorite examples of a "special provision" is also one of the simplest:

46. I can chose blemish cover or bandages in "flesh" color and have them more or less match my skin.

As with makeup, people of lighter colored skin have enjoyed the privilege of flesh colored band-aids since Johnson & Johnson first started making 'em. And almost certainly, we took it completely for granted that we could do so.

There are things I dislike about McIntosh's article, though--I don't think it stresses quite enough that race and class generally overlap and that many of the factors she discusses are as much products of one's economic status as one's race, gender or sexual orientation. As well, she doesn't spend much time examining (in the other version of the article) what happens when some of these categories overlap: does a white, homosexual woman lose privileges? What about an African-American straight man? Her discussion of male privilege, in particular, seems to be based on the idea of a white, male heterosexual man, thus suggesting that her own categorizations are defined by the exact privileges she is attempting to describe and criticize. Obviously, her lists are not meant to be a roadmap for figuring out what privileges you do and do not have, but the intersections here are at least as interesting as the categories, and she does not mention them. Finally, not all white groups enjoy white privileges, as any Jewish person today could tell you, or any Irish immigrant from the late 19th century would certainly attest to. But despite these drawbacks, or perhaps because of them, I continue to use the article in my classes. It is well worth the read.


*Note: I teach a slightly different version from the one available through the link above. McIntosh later developed the article to include a discussions on male privilege and heterosexual privilege, using similar lists to discuss ways in which males and heterosexuals enjoy specific privileges that women and homosexuals do not. For example, one of the items on her list is that heterosexuals tend not to worry about adverse reactions when asked what they did over the weekend with their significant other.

VisibleLink #3: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a weird skull!

Anamorphism

Anamorphism has been around for centuries. Well, technically, it has been around since forever, but we humans just figured it out (that we know of) in the 15th century (Leonardo da Vinci--who else?). Anamorphism is a simple optical trick--it is a distortion that depends on a single, specific point of view; when standing in the right place or when viewed with a reflective aid (such as a curved mirror), an anamorphic image appears to be in perfect perspective. The images allow for a dual pleasure: either guessing what the image will "be" or experiencing the satisfaction of seeing the image in its "true" form.

Anamorphic images were hugely popular in the 16th and 17th centuries. In general, they were used somewhat like parlor games, but were also employed as codes during wars, to disguise erotic images, and even to hide politically controversial messages. The artist Erhard Schoen, a student of Duerer, is one of the more famous artists who employed anamorphism. In the image below (difficult to see on a computer screen) the bizarre "landscape" on the right side is actually an anamorphic image that you wouldn't have found delicate ladies admiring in the drawing room.

Was siehst du?, Erhard Schoen
(To view the image, lean forward and to the far left of your computer screen.)

Anamorphism is still practiced today, of course. Those of you interested in weird visual tricks and hot drinks can enjoy both with Ross McBride's Anamorphic Series, and the chalk sidewalk drawings of Kurt Wenner and Julian Beever are well known contemporary examples. But while McBride's teacup sets are fun to have around to impress your friends with, Beever's drawings point back to a longer tradition of anamorphic images, including the works by artists like Holbein and Schoen, where an anamorphic image was skewed for a specific purpose. In Beever's case, his drawings not only engage with pop culture--Coca Cola, Sony, blockbuster films--but contemporary political issues such as the G8 summit. To a degree, then, anamorphism is somewhat like visual satire--it uses extreme exaggeration and distortion in order to make a specific point. This connection is apparent even in early instances where anamorphic images were used to disguise the true subject matter of the artwork, just like early satires.

Julian Beever, Batman and Robin

Beever and Wenner have changed how we understand anamorphic images, though. As the photos on Beever's website so clearly demonstrate, his chalk drawings reveal our hesitancy over where art and public spaces intersect--is Beever enlightening us or is he making fun of us? And sidewalks are thoroughfares, not canvases, right? Especially these canvases, which require so much extra room! Even worse, you only "get it" if you approach the image from the right direction, so unless you are standing in the correct place, the drawings just look like the man had too much time on his hands and not enough skill. Anamorphic images, therefore, despite having been moved out of the parlor and into the public arena, are still somewhat inherently anti-communal--even Wenner's and Beever's, which are free and available to anyone walking by.

Julian Beever, Make Poverty History seen from the side--to see the drawing "in perspective" visit Beever's website here.

InvisibleLink #3: In Case You Ever Have to Entertain a Bored Emperor

Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino

Marco Polo and Kublai Khan sit together and Marco Polo describes cities he has seen on his travels. I would also suggest Cosmicomics as one of the best collections of short stories I know. short

VisibleLink #2: "Shhh, the moving diorama's starting!"

Cyclorama

Robert Barker is generally recognized as the inventor of cycloramic paintings--huge canvases in circular rooms that give the illusion of placing the viewer at a specific scene. He may have been the first but he wasn't the last; cycloramas, moving dioramas, and panoramas were popular all over Europe and the US throughout the 19th century, some remaining present-day examples being the Atlanta Cyclorama, the Cyclorama of Jerusalem, and the Gettysburg Cyclorama. Olive Cook claims that for Victorians in London, moving dioramas and panoramas were a bit like the Pixar shorts before the film begins:

The Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, and Drury Lane all included dioramas in their repertoire. Play productions included entre-acte showings of such things as the "Moving Diorama of the Polar Expedition" just as newsreels used to be shown, or previews are, at movie theatres today (Cook 31).

Even Monet jumped on the bandwagon, creating a waterlilies panorama that was originally meant to be housed in a specially designed, circular building in Paris.

But really, how are panoramas or cycloramas different from simply big canvases? Large paintings aren't exactly uncommon and anyone who's visited Italy knows that church after church devoted plenty of wall (and floor) space to enormous renditions of Biblical favorites. One major difference is the way in which persepctive is altered in a panorama or cyclorama. Both assume that the visitor remains at one fixed point and the perspective is skewed so that it seems "right" from the viewer's point of view; large canvases and frescoes don't always make a similar assumption (a notable exception being the dome and ceiling of Sant'Ignazio by Andrea Pozzo). A visitor admiring the ceiling frescoes from the door of the Sistine Chapel gets a very different view as he or she walks around. Moreover, as Basilica San Marco in Venice makes clear, wall frescoes, ceiling mosaics and other church decorations were usually meant to inspire awe in the viewer (either for the religious import or the artist's skill). When one looks up to the central dome of the Basilica and sees the Ascension of Christ, one is overwhelmed both by the richness of the mosaics and by the enormity of the message. Not so with panoramas or cycloramas. While awe might be a byproduct of these curved canvases, the main sensation is not a feeling of inferiority but of being present; of feeling as though one is taking place in the action or event depicted. Instead of staring straight up, your mouth hanging open and developing a sore neck, with a panorama you look around, just as you might if you were actually present at the Battle of Gettysburg. Cycloramas and panoramas not only "decorate" a given area but they create space (or, at least, the illusion of it).

Perhaps just as importantly, panoramas and cycloramas were solidly middle-class. The Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel was available by special invitation only, straight from the Pope, but just about anyone with the right amount of pocket change could go see a Victorian moving diorama. And what's more, he or she could see it over and over again: cycloramas and panoramas were consumable art experiences, meant to be repeated rather than locked away in private collections.

InvisibleLink #2: They Aren't Playing Hide and Seek

Homeless Children

T J Pappas School

In America, homelessness, it seems to me, is not so much invisible as it is ignored. Not by everyone, of course--many people work to fight homelessness in both large and small ways, most obviously because homelessness confronts us with the absolute potential for our own sense of "normal" to degrade completely. But in the US at least, child homelessness is largely invisible, particularly outside of urban areas. Invisible in part because many of us believe the government has systems to make sure homelessness in children doesn't exist and invisible because we often have a very traditional view of homelessness--living on the street, eating whatever you can find, begging. Homelessness does not, however, always take such a form. Living with friends, living shelter to shelter, living wherever you are always a guest and never a resident--all of those are homelessness. And homeless children face these pressures and situations differently than their parents or adults do.

For example--to enroll in school, every child typically needs a resident address (to catch a bus), immunization (to prove that they do not pose a health risk to others), and former school records. If you are homeless, it is possible to change schools three or four times (if not more often) in a year. And even if you are at the same school--what are the chances you'll be near a bus stop regularly? Or be able to show up in clean clothes? The T J Pappas school in Arizona is entirely for homeless children, to give them the special attention they need and suited specifically to deal with the problems that homeless children face. The school was fairly controversial for a while (probably still is), in part because of money and in part because many critics claimed it segregated homeless students from "normal" students. The websites posted above have more info. If you are interested in homelessness in general, The Homeless Guy's blog is a good place to start.

VisibleLink #1: The World is Yours!

Google Earth

If you go to Rome, you can check out the Vatican (not to mention the Colosseum, of course). Bernini famously created Piazza San Pietro (the big open area) by designing and building the colonnades. The idea was to fit as many people as possible into the Piazza, allowing to the Pope to give mass blessings. The colonnades themselves act as giant metaphorical arms, enfolding in the faithful.

It is a funny thing that Google Earth allows you to look down on some of the Holy Roman Empire's most famous and well-known works of architecture--the cruciform churches, soaring cathedrals, monastic complexes such as the Abbey of Cluny--from the same vantage point that the creators assumed their god would view them. Gazing down on the Vatican from above, one gets to marvel not only at the pure simplicity of the Piazza--the way in which it simultaneously invites and excludes, leading pilgrims directly to St. Peter's--but also at the sprawling apartments, halls and gardens behind the giant basilica, none of which are (or were) visible to the average pilgrim entering the Piazza.

InvisibleLink #1: "I'd like a copy of "The Pension Grillparzer," please!"

The first invisiblelink is, of course, to the Invisible Library. Where else?