In 1967, here in Webster Hall, a group of Dartmouth students stood up during a speech by Alabama's segregationist governor, George Wallace, and vocally protested. They disrupted the speech and turned the campus on its head. A raging debate ensued over the nature of civil discourse and protest on a college campus. Emotions ran high, and the campus was polarized. It sounds kind of familiar....
Last week we found two student-run magazines that give us a look into the debate. The Conservative Idea, which had been around for about a year, devoted it's May 1967 issue to the controversy. The cover dismissed the validity of the protests by quoting Napoleon: "Vanity made the revolution; liberty was only a pretext."
The newly created Blackout, published by the Dartmouth Afro-American Society, countered with their Fall term, 1967 issue. The cover sports the members of the Afro-American Society holding signs spelling out "BLACK POWER NOW." Presumably, these are some of the same students who shouted down Wallace and are pictured on the Conservative Idea cover. The issue is devoted to discussions of civil rights and protest--it leads not with a quote by Napoleon, but by Thoreau: "A minority is powerless while it conforms to the majority; it is not even a minority then; but it is irresistible when it clogs by its whole weight."
To see how the debate played out in these two partisan magazines ask for DC History LH1 .B55 for Blackout, and DC History LH1 .D3C6 for the Conservative Idea. They are practically right next to each other on the shelf. Have they found peace by being so close together for the past 50 years?
Friday, January 13, 2017
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
A Book out of Time
The most striking feature of Daniel Kelm's Neo Emblemata Nova is, without doubt, its
structure. The book comes enclosed in a cloth covered, red and black,
cube-shaped box that gives little indication to the contents, save a
cryptic, ancient-looking Latin inscription on the lid. Opening the box
reveals a tightly packed set of tile like cards which, when removed,
reveal themselves to be linked at the edges such that the form a stiff,
unwieldy Mobius strip. The tiles are printed with black and white
images, some of them accompanied by Latin text, which were taken from a
16th century “emblem book” – a popular book form containing
cryptic imagery meant to convey religious, political, or moral messages
that had to be decoded by the reader. Neo Emblemata Nova, like its 16th and 17th
century precursors, resists decryption.
Going beyond the content – which is as intriguing yet esoteric, if not more so, than it would have been hundreds of years ago – the book itself is physically difficult to read. The stiffly hinged ring of panels is difficult to lay flat, or page, or arrange in any other recognizable position. Even once it is spread out, there is no indication as to the beginning, end, front, or back – and mathematically speaking, the work has none of these familiar qualities, as the Mobius Strip is a surface with one, continuous side that feeds back into itself infinitely. The juxtaposition of ancient content and avant-garde binding makes it difficult even to place the work within the continuum of history. The work feels infinite, both in time and space. The messages conveyed by the imagery, though they can arguably be pinned to specific religious or moral imperatives, are largely left to the reader’s interpretation. It is a work that challenges the reader, physically and mentally, from the moment they open the box to the moment when (likely after much frustration) they manage to fold it back into its original configuration. I would argue that Neo Emblemata Nova is a commentary on the book’s ability to teach us more than the physical contents would suggest – that by reading, handling, and analyzing it we can generate ideas beyond those of the author. It is a book beholden to no time or place, without beginning or end, that must be unpacked (both physically and mentally) by the reader.
Come play with it by asking for Presses W538kene.
Posted for Tucker Lancaster '18
Going beyond the content – which is as intriguing yet esoteric, if not more so, than it would have been hundreds of years ago – the book itself is physically difficult to read. The stiffly hinged ring of panels is difficult to lay flat, or page, or arrange in any other recognizable position. Even once it is spread out, there is no indication as to the beginning, end, front, or back – and mathematically speaking, the work has none of these familiar qualities, as the Mobius Strip is a surface with one, continuous side that feeds back into itself infinitely. The juxtaposition of ancient content and avant-garde binding makes it difficult even to place the work within the continuum of history. The work feels infinite, both in time and space. The messages conveyed by the imagery, though they can arguably be pinned to specific religious or moral imperatives, are largely left to the reader’s interpretation. It is a work that challenges the reader, physically and mentally, from the moment they open the box to the moment when (likely after much frustration) they manage to fold it back into its original configuration. I would argue that Neo Emblemata Nova is a commentary on the book’s ability to teach us more than the physical contents would suggest – that by reading, handling, and analyzing it we can generate ideas beyond those of the author. It is a book beholden to no time or place, without beginning or end, that must be unpacked (both physically and mentally) by the reader.
Come play with it by asking for Presses W538kene.
Posted for Tucker Lancaster '18