Tag Archives: turn-up books

The Case of the Elusive “J”

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By Colette Slagle and Jacqui Reid-Walsh1817 Metamorphosis; or, a Transformation of Pictures, with Poetical Explanations, for the Amusement of Young Persons. Photo courtesy of Penn State Special Collections.

This week we began engaging with the Metamorphosis texts differently—not as a set of narrative episodes directed by the panels, but as a literacy abecedary.  Instead of following the directives in the text to turn-up and turn-down the flaps, attending to the alphabet requires opening and laying out all of the flaps at once.  The alphabet is displayed horizontally across the length of the open artifact.  Interestingly, if you follow the directions in the text and turn the flaps up and down in the intended manner, the order of the alphabet is disrupted.  For example, in the first panel the letters revealed when opening the flaps read “A B C C D D” across the top, followed by “U V W X Y” across the bottom.

The letters are printed in the upper and lower border of the central images, but bear no obvious relation to the images or the accompanying verse. Although an alphabet is textual, in this case it is not printed by the metal type, but is part of the woodblock illustrations.  We ascertained this by comparing Sands and Poupard’s editions to G.S. Peters’ editions.  The images and alphabet remain the same across the Sands and Poupard editions, but when Peters changes the images in his editions, the alphabet also changes.

1831 (1960 facsimile) Metamorphosis; or, a Transformation of Pictures, with Poetical Explanations, for the Amusement of Young Persons. Photo courtesy of Penn State Special Collections.

We also noticed that the alphabet border resembles the style of a sampler.  For example, the letters are all capitalized and are on a faintly lined background.  The letter style is also ornate and appears “stitched” rather than printed in the standardized letterpress style.

1853 Sampler by Anna Timmis. M974.119.2.  Photo Courtesy of McCord Museum.

Some of the letters appear twice—one in a more basic style, and one in a more ornate style.  Curiously, not all of the letters appear this way, only C, D, I, and T have duplicates.  This partly seems to follow the sampler style which would sometimes duplicate the whole alphabet in capital letters.  We are still puzzled as to why only certain letters are duplicated in the Metamorphosis.  Perhaps it is only due to the allotment of space and the chosen letters are arbitrary.

Moreover, while there is a double “I”—one simple and one ornate—there is no “J” present.  The history of the English alphabet is complex and the development is not perfectly linear. According to E. Jennifer Monaghan in Learning to Read and Write in Colonial America (2005), the authors of spellers “differed about the treatment of the consonantal i and u (which eventually became the j and v of the modern alphabet)” (216).  Interestingly, the Metamorphosis has both the letters “U” and “V” but no “J”.  While no “J” is listed in the alphabet, it is used in the text: “There nothing could their joys controul” (emphasis added)—even more interesting is that it is used in the same panel that the double I (and absent J) appears.

1817 Metamorphosis; or, a Transformation of Pictures, with Poetical Explanations, for the Amusement of Young Persons. Photo courtesy of Penn State Special Collections.

The inclusion of a secret alphabet hidden inside the flaps may have been intended for utilitarian purposes, indeed, an 1814 edition of the text printed by Robert Porter makes this clear through the subtitle: “also, an alphabet of large and small letters to aid females in marking linen.”  At the same time, however, there could be a more playful option.  One possible educational game that could emerge from the object would be matching some of the letters to the images in the text when all of the flaps are open.  For example, “A for Adam or Apple,” “E for Eve, Eden, or Eagle,” “L for Lion,” “G for Griffin,” “S for Serpent,” etc.

We then began to question if there were any possible image connections with the missing letter “J.”  We did not find many, but one possibility is that the empty scales featured in the third panel with the wealthy merchant could be read as an allusion to the “scales of justice,” particularly as the verses in the fourth panel condemn his greed.

1817 Metamorphosis; or, a Transformation of Pictures, with Poetical Explanations, for the Amusement of Young Persons. Photo courtesy of Penn State Special Collections.

Re: Widdershins

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“Melmillo” by Dorothy Lathrop

In the previous entry Jacqui detailed her experience at the Walter de la Mare conference in Cambridge this past month. Although years have passed since her doctoral dissertation, Reid-Walsh’s current research on eighteen-century turn-up books aligned with her graduate work on de la Mare. By way of arguing that the theme of transformation found in his poems are compatible with the process of critical making, Reid-Walsh proposed to the audience at the conference the construction of a hypothetical turn-up book inspired by de la Mare’s work.

I was struck by the novelty of this idea. As a pedagogical tool, critical making is an incredibly immersive, creative and reflective process. With this in mind I familiarized myself with de la Mare’s poetry and decided to try and create my own turn-up book inspired by the poem “Melmillo”.

Process:
-The process began by reading the poem a few times and thinking about how I wanted to go about starting the turn-up book.
-I took a few minutes to think about how the different lines in the poem could be best incorporated in each flap and how I wanted to convey the transformation of the narrative in the poem.

Turn-up draft, sketching the concept

-It was surprising to me that as I thought about how to draw the elder wood/elder tree (line 2) mentioned in the poem, that I began to think more critically about the meaning of it in relation to the nymph-like nature of Melmillo.

 

Turn-up, first flap open

The mock-up draft:
-Used a blank turn-up book of my own making and began to sketch out my plan for the narrative. The turn-up books are easy to make. Take a rectangular piece of paper, in my case I used the standard 8.5 by 11 letter size. I folded the top and bottom to meet at the center and sketch three lines with pencil where I would cut the flaps.
-The concept was a simple one. Each flap would have an elder tree except the last one in which Melmillo reveals herself as a the “elder mother” of Celtic mythology.
-The idea was for the birds was (thirty-three in total at the beginning of the poem) to be part of the tree itself (leaves) and progressively leave the tree naked in the process of transforming into Melmillo. This made sense to me as the poem speaks of Melmillo’s breast being where the birds went to rest: “All the birds were flown to rest /In the hollow of her breast;” (lines 17-18)

Turn-up book, all flaps open

Admittedly, because of my artistic limitations I was not able to do as much with it with as my imagination would’ve liked. However, the process of making this object was the catalyst to other avenues of research. I recalled Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Elder-Tree Mother” as well as other folklore about dancing goddesses and tree spirits. Throughout my sketching, my curiosity grew and I began to research the symbolism of the elder wood and found affirming information regarding the Celtic, Germanic, and Judeo-Christian connections.

My research is in its beginning stages at the moment but already I have found some interesting sources on Celtic mythology and the Elder Mother. Most of the more Elder-mother/elder-tree specific sources were found in other academic blogs on mythology, however, some recently been published books (Ayn Cates Sullivan’s Legends of the Grail: Stories of Celtic Goddesses and The Book of Celtic Myths) were also of use while looking for information on myths about goddesses.

While looking for the root of the Elder tree’s folklore, the common assumption is that it arises from the plant’s extensive medicinal properties. Part of the mythology attached to it stems from it being thought to have the ability to protect from harm. It was believed that the Elder Mother or ‘Hylde Moer’ (Danish) was living inside of the tree as its spirit. This pairs well with de la Mare’s own interpretation of her in his poem “Melmillo” as well as Hans Christian Andersen’s take on the Elder mother. The transformation that Melmillo has undergone in the beginning lines of the poem is reflective of the process of transformation that is part of critical making. I’d be interesting in doing this exercise with other poems by de la Mare. The prevalent themes of transformation and movement in his children’s literature are suitable for an interactive interpretation of his poems.

 

Widdershins: connecting harlequinade turn-up books to Walter de la Mare’s poetry of transformation

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Mac Vermuelen and myself deep in conversation about de la Mare

Two weeks ago, I presented and animated a session at a conference devoted to reading Walter de la Mare, a British poet, short story writer, novelist and essayist. Although he wrote for adults and children, it is his children’s poetry that has long fascinated me. Indeed, I did my dissertation on his poetry writing during my daughter’s naptime. As I introduced my talk I observed that since she is now married and living in Nashville, the thesis was written a while ago!

When the organizers of the conference had first contacted me, I was thrilled and felt privileged to have the opportunity to revisit de la Mare’s work with my present-day interests in mind. As I immersed myself in his poetry over the summer, I sensed how his brilliant poems of transformation invite a connection with my passion for turn-up books! I submitted a proposal and it was accepted.

The conference was held in the English Department at Cambridge University and in the evening a performance of folk and opera music set to de la Mare’s poems was held at the beautiful Newnham College.  In keeping with the multimodal nature of his work, my talk was called “Widdershins: Transformations and multimodality in Walter de la Mare’s children’s poetry—an imagined metamorphic turn-up book project.” My hinge idea was linking de la Mare’s use of the transformation scene in pantomimes in order to explain how his child figures in his poetry temporarily enter another world to a type of turn-up book derived from the transformation scene — the harlequinade.  I took with me a PowerPoint based on several published harlequinades in special collections, a number of facsimiles based on one homemade religious turn-up book that Penn State owns, and some folded blank paper. My aim was to provoke thinking about how to make a turn-up that could demonstrate materially shifts in perception that the child figures and by extension readers experience when engaging with these poems.

Taken by Anne Welsh, University of London; de la Mare poem about the pantomime, illustration by Harold Jones

 

It was a busy half hour. I shared the images, my thoughts and handed out folded paper sheets and several poems we could possibly engage with –poems where children, girls and boys, through dance and twirling encounter a mysterious other or double. Although there was not enough time to make a book, in our brainstorming session people suggested different types of theatrical metamorphic movable books such as those with volvelles or complex turn-ups that might also work. After the session ended in addition to all keeping the facsimiles, some people took the folded paper away to work with their families at home.

Taken by Anne Welsh, University of London Harlequinade images courtesy of Penn State Special Collections

The experience of attending the conference, listening to brilliant and sometimes famous scholars was inspiring. More importantly since it was a small conference we all attended all the events together and the presence of the publisher grandson Giles de la Mare added a vital intertwined personal and research dimension. I am reading a book by one of the presenters about the sound of poetry and in correspondence with some other delegates. I look forward to continuing to work on bringing my two scholarly passions together.

 

 

A material and digital poster session

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Last weekend (November 13-15, 2014) a few of us (Sandy Stelts, Linda Friend, Carlos Rosas, and me), all involved with the “Learning as Play” project, attended a Digital Scholarship conference held at Bucknell University. Bucknell is a private liberal arts university located alongside the historic Susquehanna River in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Only about an hour and fifteen-minute drive along a scenic road from State College, it is a different world. The town and university are historic, small, and exquisite.

 

Suiting the elegance and size of the location, the conference was small as well (about 150 attendees). There were several keynote talks, all held in the Terrace Room, a dining and meeting room with full-length windows providing a panoramic view of the campus. Notably, the first was given by Chris Long from Penn State, in a talk called “Performing Collaborative Scholarship” on Friday. The theme was constant throughout the sessions. Because we were all interested in everything, we were pleased that the conference arrangers scheduled only two parallel sessions at a time.

 

We were part of a poster session: It was a material and digital poster session. I had never heard of the term “digital poster” before, and it seemed to me to be an oxymoron. What is it? It turned out the session was a bit like an ongoing booth, with objects and computer technology and people. Linda made a good-sized material poster outlining our project, which served as an entrance area to introduce people to our website. Carlos brought iPads to demonstrate some of the newer digital constructions and moving prototypes that his undergraduate students have made, as well as projecting the latest version of the interactive site on a larger screen. Sandy brought color facsimiles of a lovely 18th- century homemade religious turn-up book that Special Collections had recently acquired. I came and talked!

 

Amongst the four of us, with the combination of material and digital artifacts, the session was a success. The two-hour pre-dinner period passed swiftly as the other participants milled around, talked, and asked questions about all the of the fascinating projects. The congenial effect of the session was reinforced by the clever conference organizers, who by merging the “cocktail hour” with the “poster session,” set the casual yet engaged tone.

college-photo_189._445x280-zmm

 

https://dsconf.blogs.bucknell.edu/schedule/

 

Back to the Bodleian

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A couple of weeks ago I had the joy and privilege of participating in a conference held by the Bodleian library called “Forms and Formats” (September 8-9, 14). The most able and gracious conference conveners were Louisiane Ferlier and Bénédicte Miyamoto, in conjunction with Oriel College and the Sorbonne Nouvelle. My talk was called “Turn-ups, Harlequinades and Metamorphoses 1688-1811: format and meaning-making in simple interactive books; or contemplative and antic reading.” There were only fifteen speakers and the audience was composed of curators, librarians, book historians, book dealers, collectors and other knowledgeable people. Ample time for discussion was built into the organization of the session, so the questions engaged the whole group. Since we travelled around Oxford together attending a print making session at the Story museum on a working 18th century press, visiting Oriel’s beautiful library which recalls a gentleman’s private library and being allowed to enter the august but austere Fellow’s library at Jesus College, the conversations were ambulatory! In each location there were rare books on view with interesting formats, in keeping with the conference theme. We would cluster around unusual books and other items such as maps and globes to listen to several people in the group discuss the objects spontaneously. We were also well fed, nibbling on 18th century foods prepared by the Oriel librarian, Majory Szurko, and a lovely dinner in a glamorous room at Oriel. It was like participating in an intense but elegant rare books seminar telescoped into two days.

One of the participants, tongue in cheek, tweeted this shelfie promoting the conference showing some of the texts we discussed. Most unusually, under strict supervision of Alexandra Franklin, the Coordinator for the Centre of the Book, some of the books and objects we talked about were allowed to attend the conference as well!

For me, the trip and conference were a joyful return. As I mentioned early in the blog, my love affair with harlequinade turn-up books began at the Bodleian Library when Clive Hurst, Head of the Special Collections (now retired) introduced several to me from the Opie Collection of children’s books. When he opened them up I saw stories of words and etched pictures about a set of commedia characters that progressed by means of flaps that could be lifted up and down, the directions for use being set in the verse or printed on top of the picture. He looked at me and said, ‘Are these books or toys?’

This was my opportunity to present at the site of origin my ever-emerging, (metamorphosing!) answers in response to Clive’s question. I discussed six items in their collection, emphasizing four. Three are versions of the same text: The Beginning, Progress and End Of Man (London J. Deacon 1688/89), Metamorphosis or, a transformation of pictures, with poetical explanations for the amusement of young persons (Philadelphia: Pounder 1811) and an 18th century manuscript by William Wood (1741) in the Opie Collection. The fourth was Harlequin Skeleton 1772 published by Robert Sayer shown in the shelfie photo. In each case I considered how the format of the strip and moveable flaps both supports and upturns a reader’s engagement with the words and images.

Throughout the conference I learned much about form and format from new colleagues and friends, all lovers of old books, about how different types of turn-ups were made, and how they changed over their life-cycle as published objects and handmade artifacts well into the 19th century.

Each day I walked from a short route from a student dormitory in Oriel down Catte Street pasts the Radcliffe Camera luminous in the morning sun. Such beauty devoted to scholarship takes my breath away, even in memory.

Radcliffe Camera

Radcliffe Camera