For this blog post, I decided to look at art in the Blindman No. 2. The art is very abstract, as we talked about in class previously when we looked at the R. Mutt piece. Likewise, in the issue there is a very abstract picture of a piano morphed with a person. The artwork makes me think that the editor of the magazine intended to slightly offend people because he uses a urinal to represent a fountain, which is a rather grotesque thought. He also uses a representation of a person morphed with a piano, making the person seem more like a machine. In doing this, he seemingly makes fun of the reader and his perception of the world. He suggests that the reader is one with a machine and challenges his view on the world.
Reading Sylvia Beach's memoir was a glimpse into an exclusive club, like some kind of secret fraternity without the pomp and circumstance associated. To think of the movers and shakers, so to speak, of the modernist movement circling around a library/bookshop that is described in such a homely, inconsequential manner is startling. The fact that everyone seems a bit broke, that everyone seems to not have fully settled into their lives (and those that have act as if they don't care much for their own influence) really speaks to the connections that formed modernism. The connection between Beach and authors, both youn and established, are portrayed as loosely tied, uncompetitive, and unpretentious. They just seem to come and go easily. Yet being involved in the connections that defined modernist work is also seen to be exclusive. Those with the right friends, those with the right family (to pick up manuscripts from a trash can in the study), those who are willing and able to root up from America, abandon their careers as pianists and move wherever the rest of the authors are--those are the people who are shown to be involved in modernism.
Perhaps perfectly aligned with the exclusive yet relaxed tone of how relationships were formed in this era is the way that important authors are portrayed. They seem unconcerned with the work of others (or potentially with the progression of the movement as a whole); at times, they even seem unconcerned with their own work. Gertrude Stein jokes around and lounges all day, and cares only about her own books. Everyone else is unamusing. Ezra Pound walks into a library and goes around fixing things, invites Beach to look at all his hand-made furniture. There is a weird sense of indifference and lack of airs with the authors who molded art in an important time period. This speaks to modernism's reaction against the pomposity of old--those who molded the movement reflected its ideals in their everyday lives.
In looking at Sylvia Beach's memoir, I was particularly drawn to "A Bookshop of My Own." I had the opportunity to visit the current Shakespeare & Company store in Paris when I studied there this past summer, and I didn't know much about it before I walked in. I honestly had no idea how famous it was but I loved everything about it from the time I stepped inside because it was just overrun with books everywhere, squeezed into every nook and cranny. Even the staircase had books lining the wall. The one thing that struck me as odd, however, was the fact that I could not find a single book in French. Even though I was in the heart of Paris, everything was in English. I didn't really understand it but reading this memoir now makes more sense of that.
I particularly like "A Bookshop of My Own" because it shows how passionate Beach was about opening a bookshop and the notion of lending books instead of selling them in a shop setting is not something I am otherwise familiar with. This combined with the shop holding solely American works makes it quite different, I think. It's also amazing that it's lasted so long in Paris because in my experience, the French are very proud people who don't necessarily embrace American culture invading their own. It's also just interesting that this place was not quite a bookstore and not quite a library, but sort of a hybrid of the two in how I think of them.
In these memoirs I really enjoyed reading the chapter “A Bookshop of My Own”, because it clearly depicts how much Beach wanted to create a setting for people to come and read and exchange ideas. Her passion for her shop was very clear and her desire to create a community of readers and a place for passionate people, like herself, to come and enjoy themselves was inspiring. Her passion clearly worked because she says of her opening the shop, “…when the first friends began to show up. From that moment on, for over twenty years, they never gave me time to meditate”(21). She created a place where people could lend and share each other’s books, which created a large community of readers. This is something that I believe is a strong aspect of a print culture network. She tells readers that “each member had a small identity card, which he was supposed to produce when claiming the deposit as the expiration of his subscription, or when he was broke. This card was as good as a passport, so I was told”(22). Her membership granted access to a world of literature and exchange of ideas. This was her cultured network, and her community of readers.
As a student of Modernist literature, reading through Sylvia Beach’s memoirs gives a glance into the most human characteristics of some of the seemingly inhuman titans of the era. But as a mere lover of books, these memoirs illustrate a fantasy that can only reach such inconceivable proportions after nearly a century of nostalgia. To think that on any given day Beach might have expected a visit from Paul Valéry, André Gide, James Joyce, Ford Maddox Ford, Jules Romain, or Ernest Hemingway (among others), inspires nostalgia in any reader familiar with the works of the aforementioned authors.
It’s clear that the literary phenomenon which occurred in Paris after World War I is distinct and could not hope to be recreated. American and European authors flocked to Paris to be a part of the cosmopolitan milieu, and Sylvia Beach in her shop “Shakespeare and Company” had the opportunity to befriend and promote the artists whose works would further the Modernist movement throughout the 1920’s.
Beach’s most obvious personal connection was with James Joyce, whose work she deeply admired, and the sole writer that Shakespeare and Company published. The memoir Shakespeare and Company seems like required reading then for any Joyce Scholar, as it gives firsthand account of a friendship with the elusive author, whose novel Ulysses is considered the quintessential Modernist text.
Outside of illustration’s of Joyce’s personality and dispositions, what I found most enlightening in Beach’s memoirs was her descriptions of the author’s daily routines and interactions. It’s difficult to imagine Joyce taking a break from Finnegan’s Wake in order to bring a group of friends to the opera to see John Sullivan as William Tell; or Leon-Paul Fargue making Joyce, Beach, and A. Monnier wait for an hour in a taxi while he stayed in bed writing a poem about cats, but such are the mundane details which can only be recalled by a person who lived in a time and place one never hope to duplicate.
By Emily Langhenry, Paige Krzysko, and Michelle Hwang
Throughout the beginning of the 20th century, the war that originated in Europe expanded and resulted in the First World War. The engagement in fighting and conflict that occurred around the globe affected many aspects of life for Americans and Europeans from 1914 to 1918. It not only had a political and military impact on the countries involved, but a cultural effect that specifically exposed itself through literary and commercial culture. World War I created a unique patriotic and war-focused theme that wove itself into the nuances of modernist magazines during the early 1900’s. Through advertisements in Scribner’s Magazine using a guilt-driven marketing strategy to encourage consumerism, advertisements in Poetry asking for pieces about the war, and content in Blast revealing opinions on the different countries involved, the war blatantly affected magazines using various outlets.
The vehicle of World War I as a marketing strategy targeting the non-military public is particularly apparent in the ads of Scribner’s Magazine. As the War progressed, so did the transition of various companies in their advertising methods. Companies went from marketing their products or their brands to marketing themselves in support of the war effort. Scribner’s magazine was an American magazine, published from New York City, which targeted a wealthier upper-class readership. A large portion of the magazine was dedicated to various advertisements, with some issues reaching nearly equal numbers of pages dedicated to content and advertisements. As such, the advertisements themselves are a reflection of societal influences. One way to see the impact World War I had on advertising is to compare the ads seen in two different issues of Scribner’s. The ads in the first issue discussed here, which was distributed in June of 1917 (only a few months after the American entrance into the War), market products for themselves. The War itself is barely discussed in ads; the topic is only breached when advertising books written on Germany and the War. Rather, readers were shown ads that marketed the product themselves. Companies did use persuasive techniques such as those that evoked nostalgic, traditionally American ideals—one example seen below is the Vest Pocket Kodak Watch advertisement (Fig. 1). However, this ad itself is also an example of how products were still marketed for their own inherent value; though the first part of the ad is devoted to evoking familiar feelings with the reader, the second explains the product itself. Another example is the Nujol Internal Cleanser ad posted in the same Scribner’s issue by the Standard Oil Company. The majority of this ad talks the actual effect and purpose of Nujol (Fig. 2). This form of direct advertising within the 1917 issue of Scribner’s separates itself from the War, seeking to persuade the purchasing public through upfront, honest advertising.
The July 1918 issue of Scribner’s published advertising that was dramatically more indicative of the War than ads only a year prior had been. July 1918 came after more than a year of American involvement in World War I, with the changes of wartime settling more deeply into everyday life. Regardless of the way the average American felt about the war, companies seized the timely opportunity to capitalize on patriotic sensibilities and feelings of guilt on the home-front. In contrast to the Kodak and Standard Oil Company ads from 1917, the ads in this later issue marketed companies’ involvement in and support of the war effort. Rather than buying a camera, consumers were pushed to purchase a slice of freedom by paying to the troops who were defending their liberties. In direct contrast to the Pocket Kodak Watch ad a year before, the Eastman Kodak Company published an advertisement for itself that markets itself simply as a company that does not associate with the German wartime enemies (Fig. 3). No details are given about products and their uses; Eastman simply wants to display its own patriotism and convince the consumer to follow in suit by buying Eastman. Oil ads, too, were altered to display greater patriotism and less product detail. Havoline Oil’s ad in the July 1918 issue of Scribner’s contains mild threats against the American citizen who does nothing (namely, no purchasing of Havoline Oil bonds) to support the war (Fig. 4). The ad says that “after the war those men and women who neither fought, worked, nor bought Bonds to insure its success will be marked well” (1918). This marked change in wartime advertising in the span of one year reveals the change World War I had on the advertising industry (and the desire of said industry to capitalize on American spirit). War itself became a means by which to guilt a wealthy, comfortable “at-home” American public into buying products that would help them repent of their lack of patriotism and fighting spirit.Figure 1--1917 Kodak Ad
Figure 2--1917 Nujol Ad
Figure 3--1918 Kodak
Figure 4--1918 Oil Ad
Aside from the representation of patriotism through advertisements encouraging involvement that appeared in magazines such as Scribner’s during the time of the war, there also existed advertisements to promote the submission of pieces that centered on the war. This was a unique type of advertising in the sense that it was self-motivated and based on magazine subject matter. These advertisements tried to control the content to focus on what was occurring around the world, and attempted to promote interest in the magazine through current events. The war was such a dominant force on culture, and that included the media. Just as anything else that is extensively covered and of popular interest, the war was covered continuously by magazines because it was what people wanted to read. In order to keep people reading, the magazine wanted to gear submissions towards popular topics. This advertising technique that was utilized at this time was smart in the sense that it not only provided publicity for the magazine itself, but also encouraged readers to voice their opinions and express feelings about the turmoil of the era. Magazines such as Poetry utilized this technique, and prior to the war there was barely any advertising at all. If issues included any, it was mostly for other magazines and literary works. Just as the war started, the magazine included an ad that asked for content that related to what was going on across the Atlantic. In the case of Poetry, not only did the war have an effect on the purpose of the ads, but the fact that it had ads in general.
In the September 1914 issue of Poetry, the year that the war began, the magazine asked readers to submit a poem about the European conflict. The best poem would receive a $100 prize, and the money acted as an incentive for submissions. The full-page ad is in the back of the issue and attempts to catch readers’ attention with “$100 FOR A WAR POEM” underlined in bold across the top (enter the link here). There is no creativity in the ad, but it jumps straight to the point to entice the audience. The ad for the contest begins by describing what the magazine was looking for and continues with the rules and where to submit entries. The description states, “Poetry A Magazine of Verse announces a prize of $100 for the best poem based on the present European situation. While all poems national and patriotic in spirit will be considered, the editors of Poetry believe that a poem in the interest of peace will express the aim of the highest civilization.” The magazine is asking for all poems that included a sense of patriotism and support of one’s country, but it also explains what the editors would like to see. The announcement almost says outright that in order to win, the piece must say why the war should end and peace be made between the countries. Poetry is an American magazine, and the mention of the highest civilization reveals itself to mean that the America is the bigger person in the situation by having the view that the conflict should end. This is a surreptitious way of encouraging criticism of what was going in Europe and displays the feeling of superiority that America promoted. It is almost asking for readers to criticize that the war is even occurring in the first place. This is ironic because of America’s entrance into the war in 1917. At this point however, the editors are asking for expressions of why it should end. By having the advertisement support content on the war and detail what opinions should be reflected in the submissions, Poetry continues the existence of war themes through commercial aspects of magazines.
World War I did not just permeate magazine advertisements, but also spread its influence into the content of modernist magazines. One of the best-known concentrations of war-related pieces is found in the war issue of Blast. The publication of Blast, issue 2 that was published in 1915 contains heavily war inspired content. The cover itself shows humans morphed with machines falling into ranks. There is also an editorial at the beginning of the issue pertaining to the war. This editorial is the first actual content in this issue of the magazine and proves how the war had an immense impact on what was being published at the time. The beginning of the editorial discusses art as a whole and then it goes into comparing the countries of the war with traits or types of poetry. For example, the author writes, “Germany has stood for the old Poetry, for Romance, more stedfastly and profoundly than any other people in Europe,” (Blast, pg. 5). The author continues to discuss how Germany as a whole are all romantic. He writes, “The genius of the people is inherently Romantic (and also official!)” (Blast, pg. 6.) This trait is used to personify the country and create a poetic metaphor to explain the war to the readers of Blast.
This romanticism serves a purpose of describing Germany's relationship with France, then. The author writes, “The German's love for the French is notoriously “un amour malheureux,” as it is by no means reciprocated,” (Blast, pg. 6). So essentially the author is saying that the romantic nature of Germany causes them to love the French unendingly however because the French leave that love to be unrequited, Germany will stop at nothing to push its way into France. It is quite a poetic take on the war and the motivations of the various troops. It seems almost as though the author wove the situation into his usual style of writing, using this topic of romance with something such as war that typically takes on a very inhuman trait of every soldier falling into line with all the rest and simply following orders to march, shoot and kill, much like the cover of the issue. The romance gives the war a much more human face, in a way, but also manages to plant the idea of the necessity for Germany to lose in the reader's minds. The author writes, “Under these circumstances, apart from national partizanship, it appears to us humanly desirable that Germany should win no war against France or England,” (Blast, pg. 5). So essentially, the author takes a humanistic appeal to persuade his readers that Germany should lose the war. He makes a metaphor to an unrequited lover who will stop and nothing to get his way, and therefore must be stopped himself. The approach, while different from those that create the German Hun to be entirely inhumane and brute, does accomplish the same underlying impression.
World War I not only affected the politics and leadership of much of the Western world, but also permanently altered aspects of everyday life for the citizens of the countries involved. Modernist magazines could not escape the widespread influence of the war; wartime sentiments and opinions permeated throughout the covers of many publications. Even through the opinion piece in the second issue of Blast, the call for war themed poetry pieces in Poetry and in Scribner's patriotic advertisements, themes of war, the public, and art are deeply intertwined. Opinions on the war differed; some magazines built up the war effort and called for support, others denounced the seeming futility and bloodshed. Yet the range of ideas found in modernist magazines of the time only serve to display the profound impact World War I (and any war whatsoever) had on art and society.
For this post, I've found a page from Blindman No. 2 that depicts a somewhat animal type figure with a vaguely human like head. The poem underneath says, "Recharge, please, recharge/ avec la chimie de ta salive/ l'accumlateur de mon coeur." This translates to mean, "Recharge, please, recharge/ with the chemistry of your saliva/ storage battery of my heart." I thought this poem along with the image made quite the comparison of a human to an animalistic being and then of a human to a machine. By implying that the heart is a battery that needs to be recharged, and that said battery needs to be recharged by someone else, the author creates the notion that the human is the victim of someone else- of whoever the poem is directed at. The human is both morphed with the machine and perhaps that causes the animalistic representation above the poem- because they are not entirely human.
In reading the poem, I was immediately reminded of the cover of the war issue of Blast. The people depicted on the cover are drawn using very harsh lines and look almost as though they are made out of metal. Then, they are shown in a line and their arms are pointed out, at which point it appears that they are morphed into guns. This creates a very strong image of the human being one with the machine, like the poem I mentioned above. Because this depicts France during wartime, I think it suggests that French citizens at this time act like slaves to the machine. They go out and fight not because they want to, but because they are told to and they have these guns that they must use. The individual does not matter after he has picked up a gun and joined the armed forces. Then he looks like the men-machines depicted on the cover, like every other man, and he has the main purpose of fighting.
Throughout issues of 291 I have found that the magazine in general is a lot more focused on art and music in comparison to BLAST and its interest in the war. Both covers have similar drawings on the front cover. Blast, as we discussed in class, is directly related to the war and is depicting an image of soldiers in battle. 291 has a cover that is a little more difficult to interpret. The sketching is most likely related to the section on the front cover “Economic Laws and Art”, which discussed the progression of art in America and the direction it is heading. I chose this cover because not only was it the only Dada magazine I could read, but the cover also looked similar to Blast. There is another section on the cover entitled “Do Not Do Unto Others” discussing America’s restrictions that are imposed on oversea goods in a time of peace. This section briefly touches on America’s relationship with other countries overseas and how we think of ourselves as dominant, which is why we restrict other countries from entering our own.
Also, inside of 291 there was another drawing with words on top of it, almost making up part of the picture. I thought this was interesting because there is a section in Blast where Ezra Pound wrote poems and I thought it would be interesting to see his poems written out in the artistic format that 291 uses.
As Courtney's post mentioned, I also noticed the contrast between the directness of Blast's allusions to the War with the (if any) illusions I found in Dada magazines. I specifically compared the war issue of Blast with the second issue of the Blind Man, a Dada magazine published in New York in May of 1917. Though the Blind Man is written during the war, it makes virtually no reference to the first World War. Instead, there was a streak of intense American patriotism. Throughout the magazine issue are thoughts on American art, on its potential and growth. Europen art is mentioned in general terms, with French art and some French language scattered within the issue. It seems that instead of mentioning/noticing the war going on in Europe, European art is focused on as a standard to aspire to. On page 10, there is a letter to the Blind Man affirming its work, with the author writing that the support the Blind Man lends to American art will cause people to say "yes, they had an art, back in New York, in the days following the Great War, an art that was a vitalized part of their life..." Essentially, the Blind Man's patriotism, which is reflected through letters from "Midwestern mothers" and American poetry/editorials, is through art rather than through National security.
The War issue of Blast, on the other hand, speaks directly about the War. There isn't so much a feeling of patriotism, but there is a rejection of the war. Where the Blind Man perhaps rejects the war by refusing to mention it, Blast speaks directly against it. One piece, Vortex Gaudier-Brzeska (Written from the Trenches), is the perspective of a "sculptor" fighting in the French trenches. He speaks, rants almost, in a piece that seems put into Blast directly to repulse the reader from any feelings of approval about the War. He says that "IT WOULD BE FOLLY TO SEEK ARTISTIC EMOTIONS IN THESE LITTLE WORKS OF OURS" (35). This line, in particular, felt most aligned with the notions of the Dada magazines; that art has no place within a war, or rather that war has no place in art or life. The piece is followed with an abrupt blurb about the author's death within the French trenches, which works only to bring about stronger anti-war sentiments within the reader.
I thought it would be interesting to compare an issue of the Little Review and an issue of the New Age, since I have some previous knowledge that both of them targeted higher-brow, elite audiences. I thought that in contrast to comparing the Little Review to a "every man's" magazine, it would be interesting to see how two elitist magazines differ or are the same. Both issues are from March of 1914, and I noticed two big differences.
1) Marketing/advertisement was reduced significantly in the New Age. Where the issue of the Little Review dedicated nearly the last 20 pages of the magazine to various advertisements, finding any marketing in the New Age was a struggle. The advertisements were relatively hidden in the New Age, and I could only find 3 small ones. Though the advertisements weren't for particularly elite items (cocoa, a restaurant, some books), their minimized placement was unique. The New Age also ended with an abstract art piece, rather than advertisements (as the Little Review does). This could show the desire of the New Age to leave the reader not with advertisements, but with images that are more elite.
2) Only the Little Review had advertisements for other magazines. The Little Review advertises for the Egoist and for Poetry, whereas the New Age definitely does not advertise for others. I think this speaks to the type of audiences each magazine is looking for. The Little Review may be looking for an audience that is likely to also read Poetry or the Egoist, whereas the New Age may be looking for an entirely singular/unique audience.