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Lua-API++
2015-02-12-3
Lua-API++ library
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Access point to Lua context. More...
Classes | |
| class | Registry |
| Type of registry accessor. More... | |
Public Types |
Public Member Functions | |
Life cycle | |
| Context (lua_State *s, const InitializeExplicitly &) noexcept | |
| Explicit construction. More... | |
| Context (const Context &)=delete | |
| Copying is prohibited. | |
| Context & | operator= (const Context &)=delete |
| Assignment to Context is prohibited. | |
Returning values | |
| template<typename... ValueTypes> | |
| Retval | ret (ValueTypes &&...values) |
| Return arbitrary number of values. More... | |
| Retval | ret (const Valset &vs) noexcept |
| Return a single value set. More... | |
Error handling | |
| Temporary | where () |
| Create a value that describes current call context. | |
| Retval | error (Valobj msg) |
| Report an error to Lua. This function never returns. More... | |
| Retval | error () |
| Report error to Lua. This function never returns. More... | |
Memory control | |
| void | gcCollect () noexcept |
| Perform full garbage collection cycle. | |
| void | gcStop () noexcept |
| Stop automatic garbage collection. | |
| void | gcResume () noexcept |
| Resume automatic garbage collection. | |
| bool | gcIsRunning () const noexcept |
| Check if automatic garbaghe collection is running [Lua 5.2+ only]. | |
| size_t | queryMemoryTotal () const noexcept |
| Query allocated memory amount. More... | |
Function handling | |
| template<typename... UpvalueTypes> | |
| Temporary | closure (CFunction fn, UpvalueTypes &&...upvalues_) noexcept |
| Create a closure from C function. | |
| template<typename... UpvalueTypes> | |
| Temporary | closure (CFunction fn, UpvalueTypes &&...upvalues_) noexcept |
| Create a closure from LFunction. More... | |
| template<typename ReturnValueType , typename... ArgTypes> | |
| Temporary | wrap (ReturnValueType(*fn)(ArgTypes...)) noexcept |
| Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from generic C/C++ function. More... | |
| template<typename Host , typename ReturnValueType , typename... ArgTypes> | |
| Temporary | wrap (ReturnValueType(Host::*fn)(ArgTypes...)) noexcept |
| Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from member function. More... | |
| template<typename ReturnValueType , typename... ArgTypes> | |
| Temporary | vwrap (ReturnValueType(*fn)(ArgTypes...)) noexcept |
| Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from generic C++ function discarding the call result. More... | |
| template<typename Host , typename ReturnValueType , typename... ArgTypes> | |
| Temporary | vwrap (ReturnValueType(Host::*fn)(ArgTypes...)) noexcept |
| Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from member function discarding the call result. More... | |
| Temporary | chunk (const char *chunkText) noexcept |
| Compile a string into a chunk. More... | |
| Temporary | chunk (const std::string &chunkText) noexcept |
| Compile a string into a chunk. More... | |
| Temporary | load (const char *fileName) noexcept |
| Load a file as chunk. More... | |
| Temporary | load (const std::string &fileName) noexcept |
| Load a file as chunk. More... | |
| void | runString (const char *command) |
| Run a command string. More... | |
| void | runString (const std::string &command) |
| Run a command string. More... | |
| void | runFile (const char *fileName) |
| Execute file. More... | |
| void | runFile (const std::string &fileName) |
| Execute file. More... | |
Metatables | |
| template<typename UD > | |
| Temporary | mt () noexcept |
| Metatable accessor for user data type. More... | |
General information | |
| int | getVersion () const noexcept |
| Version number (major * 100 + minor) [Lua 5.2+ only]. | |
Direct Lua API interaction | |
| operator::lua_State * () const noexcept | |
| Access to raw state pointer via implicit conversion. | |
| size_t | getTop () const noexcept |
| Current stack size. | |
Accessor objects and accompanying functions | |
| GlobalIndexer | global |
| Global variable accessor. More... | |
| UpvalueIndexer | upvalues |
| Upvalue accessor. More... | |
| const Valset | args |
| Function arguments. More... | |
| Registry | registry |
| Registry accessor. More... | |
| template<typename... ArgTypes> | |
| bool | checkArgs (size_t amount=0) noexcept |
| Check for function arguments and count. More... | |
| template<typename... ArgTypes> | |
| void | requireArgs (size_t amount=0) |
| Check for function arguments and count and report an error in case of failure. More... | |
Access point to Lua context.
This object is passed to compatible functions. It gives access to function's arguments, global variables and so on. Context is used to access general Lua functions such as garbage collector or memory monitoring, and to return values or report errors.
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noexcept |
Explicit construction.
Sometimes it is necessary to use Lua API++ features outside of compatible function. You may construct a Context object explicitly using this constructor as follows:
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inline |
Return arbitrary number of values.
Pass values to be returned from the function to this function in return
operator.
return
operator! Return a single value set.
Special case: all values that reside on stack after the set are dropped, and the values belonging to the set are used directly as multiple return values, without copying.
return
operator! Report an error to Lua. This function never returns.
Recommended use:
| Retval error | ( | ) |
Report error to Lua. This function never returns.
This is an overloaded member function, provided for convenience. It differs from the above function only in what argument(s) it accepts.
Recommended use:
Default message will be the result of where function.
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noexcept |
Query allocated memory amount.
Create a closure from LFunction.
All closures created by this function share common wrapper.
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noexcept |
Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from generic C/C++ function.
This function will create a Lua function wrapper that converts Lua arguments into native values, calls the C function with those arguments and converts the return value back into Lua value.
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noexcept |
Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from member function.
This function will create a Lua function wrapper that converts Lua arguments into native values, calls the C function with those arguments and converts the return value back into Lua value. First argument is expected to be convertible to Host.
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noexcept |
Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from generic C++ function discarding the call result.
This function will create a Lua function wrapper that converts Lua arguments into native values, calls the C function with those arguments, discards call result and returns nothing.
|
noexcept |
Create a wrapped Lua-compatible function from member function discarding the call result.
This function will create a Lua function wrapper that converts Lua arguments into native values, calls the C function with those arguments and converts the return value back into Lua value. First argument is expected to be convertible to Host.
|
noexcept |
Compile a string into a chunk.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation failure (syntax errors). Exception object will contain error description. |
|
noexcept |
Compile a string into a chunk.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation failure (syntax errors). Exception object will contain error description. This is an overloaded member function, provided for convenience. It differs from the above function only in what argument(s) it accepts. |
|
noexcept |
Load a file as chunk.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation failure (file missing or syntax errors). Exception object will contain error description. |
|
noexcept |
Load a file as chunk.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation failure (file missing or syntax errors). Exception object will contain error description. This is an overloaded member function, provided for convenience. It differs from the above function only in what argument(s) it accepts. |
|
inline |
Run a command string.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation or execution failure. Exception object will contain error description. |
|
inline |
Run a command string.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation or execution failure. Exception object will contain error description. This is an overloaded member function, provided for convenience. It differs from the above function only in what argument(s) it accepts. |
|
inline |
Execute file.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation or execution failure. Exception object will contain error description. |
|
inline |
Execute file.
| std::runtime_error | on compilation or execution failure. Exception object will contain error description. This is an overloaded member function, provided for convenience. It differs from the above function only in what argument(s) it accepts. |
|
noexcept |
Metatable accessor for user data type.
Use this function to retrieve or set metatable for registered userdata. The userdata type is specified explicitly with this function.
|
inlinenoexcept |
Check for function arguments and count.
Checks args for existence of arguments of specified types. The function checks for presence of arguments convertible to types specified in template parameters. If "amount" is bigger than the number of template parameters, the function also checks that args.size() >= amount
. Example: c.checkArgs<double, string>(4);
checks that 4 arguments were passed to the function, first of which is a number and the second is a string.
void
is acceptable in template parameter list as a "placeholder" type, matching any type of value. | amount | Minimum amount of arguments that must be present on the stack. |
true
if required amount of arguments of required types is present, false
otherwise. | void requireArgs | ( | size_t | amount = 0 | ) |
Check for function arguments and count and report an error in case of failure.
Checks args for existence of arguments of specified types. The function checks for presence of arguments convertible to types specified in template parameters. If "amount" is bigger than the number of template parameters, the function also checks that args.size() >= amount. If the specification is not met, Lua error with diagnostic message is raised.
void
is acceptable in template parameter list as a "placeholder" type, matching any type of value. | amount | Minimum amount of arguments that must be present on the stack. |
| GlobalIndexer global |
Global variable accessor.
Indexed with strings (const char* and std::string).
| UpvalueIndexer upvalues |
Upvalue accessor.
Indexed with 1-based integer indices.
| const Valset args |
Function arguments.


Use this command to open an existing file in a new window. This command brings up the standard File Open dialog, which allows you to select any file to open.
Depending on your rights to use the file and how other programs have the file open you may only be able to open the file for read-only or not at all. For example, if a file is open for read access in another application then you may open it in read-only mode since the other application has specified it does not want it changed while using it. If a file is open in another application for exclusive (ie write) access then you may still open it but HexEdit warns you that the file contents may change without warning.
You can also force a file to be opened for read-only access by selecting the Read Only check box near the bottom of the dialog. You might do this if you want to make sure you donít accidentally make changes to the file or if you want to allow other applications to have simultaneous read access. When the file is opened read-only you can never make changes to it unless you close and reopen it. This is not be confused with the facility to make a particular window on a file read only (see Allow Changes Toggle).
If you want to modify a file but retain the original version you can open the file as normal and save it under a different name using the File Save As command. Alternatively, you can create a new file (File New) and read the file to be modified into this file using the Read File command option.
Shortcuts
Toolbar:
Keys: Ctrl+O


The spaces between words in this paragraph will be increased by 0.5em.
The spaces between words in this paragraph will be decreased by 0.5em.
The spaces between words in this paragraph will be normal.
The spaces between words in this paragraph will be normal.


“Do you want to start a fire!?  I lowered my phone (and for a second my jaw) wondering what he was talking about.
“What do you mean..?” I managed to get out.
“Using your cellphone next to an open gas cap can ignite the fumes coming out,” he explains.
“Oh ok, sorry,” I started to put my phone away. “Are you sure? I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Yeah,” he said, pointing to a no cellphone sign. “That’s why there’s a sign up.”
“Believe it man,” added the guy at the pump behind me. “It’s true. Cellphones will light the fumes right up. They’ll even pop popcorn if you put a few of them around a kernel.”
“Wait, what?” I said. “That can’t be right.”
“It’s true,” he replied. “I’ve seen it.”
“You’ve actually seen cellphones making popcorn with your own eyes? Not in some video on the internet?” I asked him, incredulous.
“I’ve seen it. It’s true.”
“That sounds pretty unbelievable but ok… In any case,” I said, turning back to the gas station attendant. “I’ll put my phone away.”
He walked away satisfied. The pump dinged. My tank was full. I put the nozzle away, closed the cap to my tank, and got back into my car.
“That was super weird,” I told my fiancée.
“Yeah. Though I’ve heard you shouldn’t be on your phone at a gas station before,” she said. “Maybe igniting the fumes is why?”
“Oh yeah? Huh, maybe,” I say. “Still sounds improbable to me. And that popcorn thing. There’s no way that’s true. I have to look that up later.”
“Yeah, that was very strange.”
Mythbusting Time
Well, I looked it up. Snopes has an article about Cell Phone Use at Gas Pumps. It’s false. The urban myth has been circling the web since 1999. First claiming that an Indonesian man was burned and his car badly damaged when his phone caused an explosion at a gas station.
The Cellular Telecommunications Industry Association has denied the risk saying “There is no evidence whatsoever that a wireless phone has ever caused ignition or explosion at a station anywhere in the world.  Warnings being posted in petrol stations simply perpetuate the myth.”
Mythbusters' Adam Savage even counts this as the coolest tech myth they ever busted on the show. For which he and Jamie Hyneman also interviewed Bob Renkes of the Petroleum Equipment Institute who after investigating hundreds of gas station fires has never found one that was caused by a phone.
So what is the cause of most gas station fires? Static electricity.  Watch the video above to see Bob demonstrate how this can happen.
Protecting yourself from this is very simple. Just stay outside while pumping gas. Or if you do have to go back inside, ground yourself when you come back out. You can do this by touching the metal exterior of your car.
What about the cellphone popcorn myth? Also false.
So, knowing these myths, am I going to use my phone at the gas station now? No, thinking about it some more, standing at the pump with my head down while in an area with a lot of moving vehicles is the real danger.


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Help paying your court fee
If you’re on a low income or get certain benefits you could get financial help with court fees.
Getting help with this fee
You'll need to check your eligibility and apply for help with fees (opens in a new window) for the N244 form. You'll be given a help with fees reference. e.g. HWF-1612-1345 {% if data.varyselected == 'true' %}
Changing the payment terms
Request the judgment payment terms be changed by downloading and completing an N244 paper form (opens in a new window).
{% elif data.cancelccj == 'true' %}Cancelling the judgment
Request to cancel the judgment payment terms be changed by downloading and completing an N244 paper form.
{% else %}Request the court to do something
Make you request by downloading and completing an N244 paper form (opens in a new window).
{% endif %}Post your N244 form
County Court Money Claims Centre
PO Box 527
Salford
M5 0BY
Pay the fee
Pay using one of the court's payment options. (opens in a new window)


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| SUMMARY: NESTED | FIELD | CONSTR | METHOD | DETAIL: FIELD | CONSTR | METHOD |
M
- type of root componentB
- type of target componentspublic interface IPerspectiveLayout<M,B>
Defines layout of a perspective and the container for included editors and views (target components); for use in perspectives handle method.
| Method Summary | |
|---|---|
M |
getRootComponent()
Get the ' layoutwrapper' for perspective; a layout component is a component which can contain UI subcomponents. |
java.util.Map<java.lang.String,B> |
getTargetLayoutComponents()
Returns map of target components and ids key - id value - target component. |
void |
registerRootComponent(M comp)
Set Layout-Wrapper for perspective; this wrapper contains wrappers for editors and views, define a valid component which is valid to hold subcomponents. |
void |
registerTargetLayoutComponent(java.lang.String id,
B target)
Register a target component; a target component defines a wrapper where editors and views can "live" in; you can define a target for each editor or view component; create an root component, a complex layout an register all components where editors/views should displayed in. |
| Method Detail |
|---|
void registerRootComponent(M comp)
comp
- the new root componentM getRootComponent()
java.util.Map<java.lang.String,B> getTargetLayoutComponents()
void registerTargetLayoutComponent(java.lang.String id, B target)
id
- the idtarget
- the target
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Mushrooms - P. cubensis & Cannabis
Earlier today a friend came over to smoke a joint, and he gave me a glass full of purple juice, he had made a tea out of twenty grams of dried purple ringers, with some blueberry, and green tea, and honey, this glass was part of that brew, he told me it was strong, and recomended not to drink the whole glass, I drank it all, and we smoked the joint.
Preface drug induced history, two nights before this trip I tripped off smoking some chronic while on 250mg of DXM which I stole from the grocery store, I have been smoking pot over 3 years (since 8th grade), had first 'trip' of nyquil gel tabs, then a experience off of benadryl, tried LSD once, tooken dxm a number of times, a few goes with ketamine as well, smoked salvia divinorum, as well as other salvias, and last year had some fun with tryptamines, including DMT(ayahuasca), 5meo-dmt, DPT, and magic mushrooms, as well as some encounters with 2ci, and 2ce.
Now the ego-shattering shroom trip. . .
By the time the joint was done my trip had begun, I felt odd sensations in my body as my world around was turning into vibrations, time, and shape was becoming aparently lost, within half an hour I was consumed. 'I'm tripping really hard, and I'm tired, so I think I should lay down for a bit, you can chill here' I say to my friend mumbling my words as I stumble to my room, I lay down as to fall asleep, but I become a heated vibration, and soon engulfed in a green flash, I am no longer in the ordianry world, this place was alien, the noises heard were buzzing, and periodic drumbeats, were noticed, intense visuals of celtic patterned vibrations were piecing together in front of me, my inner self screaming to me to open my eyes. He was saying some rude things.
Incarnate spirits of ancient mushroom eaters, or it could have been the mushrooms themselves were having a rant as well, they were arguing with me telling me that this realm is nothing like fabrication of pychedelics I have organized, and built in my head from compiled information. I was flapping like a cow, a naked scrawny hairy animal, as human as I was, and close resemblace to a calf, I saw no difference between us. 'This is only chapter 2 of the book' something said, and I know what he had meant, I opened my eyes.
The world was still a buzzing mess, time, and space had no meaning, I walked to the beach, the perceptions of the road I was used to seemed to be stretched an additional mile, the patterns of life were everywhere, and slowly the vibrations calmed as my time perception returned, and I could speak again without mumbling broken sentences. I have taken shrooms many times, and this was my hardest trip yet, and it was the trip I needed to nock me into shape with senses.
I know now as the mushrooms even taught me, that drugs are not part of me, and I feel I in no way need them.  I leave you now with a nice quote from a favorite botany website.
'One final paragraph of advice: Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am-a reluctant enthusiast… a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there.  Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space.
 I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards.'
- Edward Abbey
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid.


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Help and User Documentation
Installation Guide
- Extract file contents into the catalina/webapps/CMPUT391
directory.
- Open a new terminal in the same directory.
- Change directory to ./WEB-INF/classes
- Compile the servlets by typing make
- Start tomcat by typing starttomcat
- In a browser, enter the following link:
http://ui???.cs.ualberta.ca:<your-first-port-number>/CMPUT391/login.jsp
ui??? is the computer you are working on, it should be one
of the undergrad workstations (you can type 'hostname' in the
terminal to get the hostname of the system).
Login Module
Purpose:
Allow all users to login to the system with proper privileges,
and to modify their personal information and/or the password.
Use:
- To login:
- Enter a username and password
- Click "Login"
- To modify personal information:
- From the main menu, click "Modify Account"
- Edit the information in any of the fields
- When done, click "Save Changes"
Restrictions:
This module can only be accessed by users with an administrator
account.
The report generating option will not appear in the
menu if the stated requirement is not met.
How it works:
Report.html contains text fields where the diagnosis string, and
a date range strings are entered. These variables are passed to
reportResult.jsp as iDiag, iDate1, and iDate2 respectively. When the
submit button is pressed the page is redirected to reportResult.jsp.
If any of the text fields are left empty, an error message will appear
prompting the user to fill in all fields. reportResult.jsp retrieves
the variables iDiag, iDate1, and iDate2 to be used in the output and
in the SQL statement. The database is connected to and the SQL
statement is ran to get the rows that match the specifications of the
specified variables. Each row is printed out into a HTML table for the
user to view.
User Management Module
Report Generating Module
Purpose:
Report generating gives an administrator the ability to generate
a list of patients that match the parameters entered.
Use:
- Enter a diagnosis result (e.g. cancer) desired to be found in
the first text field (Note: this is not case sensitive)
- Enter a date in the format "DD/MM/YYYY" in the second text
field. This will be the starting boundary for the desired time period
- Enter a date in the format "DD/MM/YYYY" in the third text
field. This will be the ending boundary for the desired time period
- Click the submit button
Uploading Module
Purpose:
This module will be used by radiologists to first enter a
radiology record, and then to upload medical images into the radiology
record..
Use:
- Enter a radiology record ID
- Click "Browse" and select an image to upload
- Click "Upload"
Restrictions:
This module can only be accessed by users with a radiologist
account.
Search Module
Data Analysis Module


Programmable Box Joint Jig
Configuration
Settings
Kerf Width (inches)
Maximum Width (inches)
Save
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Functions
Re-Home
Recalibrate carriage back to home position


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Branch-and-Bound ILP Matching Calculation Cost¶
A novel feature of this toolbox is a methodology to extract valid matchings from Structural Graphs of systems, based on Branch-and-Bound Integer Linear Programming (ILP) principles.
Traditionally, in order to extract valid matchings from a Structural Graph, one would first gather all Properly Structurally Overdetermined subgraphs. Then, he would enumerate all matchings and then examine them one after the other, until he discovered a matching whose corresponding implementation was valid; that is, causal and numerically implementable.
Our BBILP approach is different: In an ILP context, we seek the solution of the problem as the value of a binary decision vector, representing the matched graph edges. Since the problem is combinatorial, we use the Branch-and-Bound algorithm to parse the search space.
A new concept we introduce is that the constraints which refer to the validity of a matching can be encoded directly in the B&B algorithm and checked in the structural domain. These constraints can be quite diverse and reflect causality, calculability and take into account loops of algebraic and dynamic equation systems.
However, the most significant advantage of the B&B approach is that, starting from an initial matching, all edges which violate the validity of that matching form a branching set, which can divide the search space into multiple sections. By following this search tree (either with DFS, BFS or other strategy) one can reach the optimal (i.e. cheapest) valid matching in usually less time than what is achievable through exhaustive enumeration of all the possible matchings.
While this BBILP approach has the same worst-case complexity with exhaustive enumeration, this is rarely the case, as we will see further on.
This demonstration uses the demo script BBILP_demo
, which:
- Sets up a set of benchmark models, taken from the literature
- Searches for valid residual generators for each one, using either BBILP or Exhaustive search
- Also uses either Minimal Test Equation Support (MTES) or Minimal Structurally Overdetermined sets (MSO) as a subsystem basis
- Plots the results regarding the required calculation times
Running the Test Script¶
Simply execute the BBILP_demo.m
script, located in the Demos
folder. It will take about 3 minutes to finish, depending on your machine.
Before discussing the results, let’s go over some key areas of the script:
% Select the models to test
modelArray{end+1} = g008();
modelArray{end+1} = g021();
modelArray{end+1} = g022();
modelArray{end+1} = g023();
modelArray{end+1} = g024();
modelArray{end+1} = g025();
modelArray{end+1} = g026();
The modelArray
cell holds the system models to be examined for residual generators. Each one comes from a relevant publication in the literature. For more information for each one, open the corresponding model function and look up the reference to the corresponding publication.
% Define the matching method set to test
matchMethodSet = {'BBILP', 'Exhaustive'};
% Define the Structurally Overdetermined set of graphs to examine
SOTypeSet = {'MTES', 'MSO'};
% The brnach selection strategy for BBILP will be Depth-First Search
branchMethod = 'DFS';
The settings for the benchmark test are set up: Two different matchhing methods are specified for examination, and two different PSO types are defined for use. In total, each system model will be executed 4 times, to acquire data for all combinations. The branching method, which refers to the BBILP algorithm, is set to Depth-First Search, but does not significanlty affect the results.
%% Perform Structural Analsysis and Matching, extract residual generators
SA_results = structural_analysis(model, SA_settings);
This is the core functionality of the script, which performs the structural analysis on each provided model, with the various analysis options.
The structural analysis results for each case-study are lumped and save in a .mat file, available for future processing. In this case the files BBILP_DFS_MSO.mat
, BBILP_DFS_MTES.mat
, Exhaustive_DFS_MSO.mat
and Exhaustive_DFS_MTES.mat
are created.
Calculation Cost Results¶
This is the visual report of the results, automatically generated by the script.
Some models are more complex while others are simpler, resulting in varying parsing times. To get a feeling of the general algorithm performances, we have stacked all models together.
Each matching method was applied both on MSO and MTES subgraphs. It is clearly evident that basing the residual generation scheme on MTESs is favourable, in terms of time complexity.
On the main topic, it is also clear that BBILP solves the residual generation problem much faster than exhausive search. Keep in mind that these benchmark models are quite small, with some tens of equations at maximum. In larger, more realistic systems with hundreds of equations the time savings are much more than a few seconds.


One of the twentieth century's most contentious aesthetic controversies was laid to rest, at least according to contemporary news reports, at the Metropolitan Museum late in 1936 when Erwin Panofsky lectured on the topic "The Motion Picture as an Art." 1 Though the enthusiasm of the New York papers, stirred by this plebeian invasion of the precincts of the Met, may have been a bit misplaced, Panofsky's lecture is still considered important in establishing serious academic study of the movies. A revised version of the lecture, entitled "Style and Medium in the Moving Pictures," has been reprinted dozens of times, in so many different contexts that it has been called not just Panofsky's most popular work but "perhaps the most popular essay in modern art history." 2 In fact, the essay has been so frequently reprinted that it has lost contact not just with its original state as a lecture at the Met but also with its first publication, which took place, as it happens, in transition, the avant-garde literary magazine edited by Eugene Jolas, where the lecture appeared alongside an installment of Joyce's then untitled Work in Progress, the first English translation of Kafka's Metamorphosis, James Agee's "In Memory of My Father," and illustrations by Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, Fernand Léger, Wassili Kandinsky, László Moholy-Nagy, Piet Mondrian, Henry Moore, and Alexander Calder. 3
Restoring this groundbreaking essay to its original published context creates a concatenation at least as interesting as the one that provoked the New York papers in 1936. For it suggests not just that international modernism of the kind exemplified by transition might have had some interest in the movies, in its own way as unexpected as the idea that the Met might have had such an interest, but also that the modernist avant-garde might have played a role in erasing the distinction between this mass medium and advanced art. 4 Establishing such a relationship, however, inevitably raises a related question. If literary modernism, at least in regard to this journal, played a significant role in legitimizing the movies as an accepted art form, does this suggest that movies played any reciprocal role in the aesthetic transformation of modern literature and art? In particular, what role might the movies have played in the aesthetic project most commonly associated with transition, which was published under the banner of "the Revolution of the Word"? 5 Would it be possible to apply much more broadly an invented term that Jolas applied to one of his own poems, "Logocinéma of the Frontierman"? 6 In what sense might transition itself, and perhaps even the general modernist project behind it, be considered a kind of "logocinema," a revolution of the word accomplished quite literally by bringing to language the physical dynamism and energy associated with film?
In fact, the publication life of transition, which appeared regularly from 1927 to 1932 and then sporadically until 1938, coincided with a dramatic peak in the intellectual prestige of the movies. As Natasha Staller has shown, film had been a popular diversion and an aesthetic influence in the French avant-garde from as early as 1904, and Vachel Lindsay had begun his American campaign on behalf of the movies in 1915, but what had been something of a lonely effort at that time quickly became almost a commonplace of the avant-garde in the 1920s. 7 Film magazines such as Close Up, which advertised itself in the September 1927 issue of transition as "The first review to approach films from the angles of art, experiment and possibility," appeared all over Europe between 1921, when Cinéa appeared in France, and 1930, when Film Art began publication in England. Film societies were founded in most European capitals—in Paris in 1920, in London in 1925, in Amsterdam in 1927—and theaters showing classic and experimental films were established in many large cities, including several in the U.S. 8
Though it may be a little hard to discern any serious reason why Picasso and Braque might have attended La Petite Fifi in 1913, significant aesthetic issues were in fact raised by these early films quite apart from subject matter and film technique. 9 Before the arrival of sound, watching a movie also required a good deal of reading, as inter-titles alternated with filmed action. Sometimes, film-makers such as Méliès purposely violated the boundaries between the two by making signs or alphanumeric res into fanciful characters in the film, but even when nothing so overt was done, film constantly placed written language in a new, dynamic relation to visual images. 10 As P. Adams Sitney insisted some years ago, this "interaction of photographic realism with the language of intertitles was to produce in artists, and particularly in writers, fascinating and complex attitudes toward the cinema." 11 In its turn, however, this complex reaction to film fundamentally affected modern conceptions of the eternally variable relationship between words and images.
On the one hand, silent film seemed to demonstrate far more thoroughly than still pictures the narrative power of visual imagery. Thus it was quite common at this time to insist that movies depend on a visual lexicon distinct from and in many ways superior to written language. Boris Eikenbaum's theory of inner speech, offered in 1927, is just the most substantial and serious example of an idea offered in a dozen different forms in these years, one that led to a widespread antagonism toward inter-titles, which were thought to interfere with the development of a properly visual film art. 12 On the other hand, inter-titles seemed to demonstrate anew the forgotten visual qualities of writing, which, in its progress across the silent movie screen, could become a moving image itself. 13 Thus Marcel Duchamp produced "films" like Anémic Cinéma almost entirely composed of inter-titles, in which verbal expressions printed on revolving discs move in exactly the same spirals as the graphic images they interrupt. Though there is a great deal of purely verbal humor in this film, it nonetheless erases the static distinction between filmed images and printed inter-titles, and in so doing restores to language a graphic, even a visceral, dimension it generally loses as a conveyor of meaning. 14
By showing how images might be codified and arranged as if they were semiotic elements, and by revealing the extent to which written language is a visual artifact, silent film helped the avant-garde to achieve its fruitful disruptions of this time-honored opposition, disruptions that, beginning with the calligrammes of Apollinaire and ending with Duchamp's Large Glass, seem synonymous with the avant-garde itself. 15 For this reason, 1927, the year in which transition began publication, represents a crisis in the relation of the avant-garde to film, for this is the year in which the inter-titles began to disappear. The arrival of sound, which was actually an uneven and protracted process that dragged out over several years, has, according to David Bordwell, a kind of mythic importance in histories of avant-garde film, abruptly halting the development of this new visual art form. 16 It is certainly the case that sound was resisted by most artists and writers who cared about movies. 17 Generally speaking, this resistance based itself on the belief that sound violates the visual autonomy of film, which is, as Antonin Artaud declared in transition, "an inorganic language which works on our minds by an osmosis and demands no translation into words." 18 But it is also possible that just the opposite is true, that the arrival of sound removed a basic semiotic tension from film, introducing along with spoken dialogue an apparent unity of speech and vision, and that the controversies attending it may have as much to do with this loss as they do with the technical and dramatic changes that followed.
In any case, the most active years in the publication life of transition, 1927-1933, coincided with an extended crisis in the avant-garde's relation to film. During these years, transition itself becomes a kind of "logocinema," a hybrid object, not only multi-lingual but visual as well as verbal. Always an illustrated journal, transition was, Jolas proudly claimed in 1930, "the first of the Anglo-Saxon reviews to introduce the art of creative photography." 19 Though it is difficult to credit such a claim, given the obvious precedence ofso many publications, Camera Work not the least among them, transition did insist from the very beginning on a strong association between photography and the other arts. In 1927, Jean George Auriol insisted "for us a photograph is as good as a poem," and Jolas himself emphasized "the importance of cinema in modern art and literature" in the same issue. 20 Beginning with its third issue, transition enjoyed an especially close relationship with Man Ray, whose experimental films Emak Bakia and L'Étoile de Mer are featured in September, 1927, January, 1928, Summer, 1928, and February, 1929, and whose photographs and photograms appeared in a number of other issues. There were multiple appearances as well by László Moholy-Nagy and Francis Bruguiere and single works by photographers from Matthew Brady to Tina Modotti, with articles or film stills from directors such as Eisenstein and Chaplin.
The original impetus for this involvement must have come from Jolas himself, whose early poetry provides an instructive example of the shift of word into moving image, for his first book of poems was entitled Ink and his second Cinema. The poems in Ink clearly stem from Jolas' experiences as a newspaper reporter, which he tried to get into the very materials of the poetry: "I thought in terms of machine words and tried to make the newspaper rhythm the basis of my inspiration." 21 But even poems with titles like "Linotype" seem to look forward to another medium. In this poem, the endless, associative unrolling of one episode into another is meant to mimic the river of newsprint emerging from the linotype machine, but it also begins to suggest the more continuously fluid form of the movies: "dynamically the film of the world rolls along." 22 This tendency for ink to become cinema, for "machine words" to become moving images, seems to have been part of Jolas' aesthetic from the very beginning. In his autobiography he recounts his rediscovery of English as a "new vocabulary" useful "for living in a camera obscura world of my own invention." 23 This notion, that a new language provides a distanced perspective on reality much like that offered by the camera, and vice versa, is perhaps the kernel from which the whole "logocinema" begins.
In his years as editor of transition, Jolas wrote a number of poems, including "Transcendental Feature Film" from August, 1927, that further illustrate this tendency for ink to emulate cinema. On the other hand, however, he frequently used his editorial appearances to campaign against what he called "the photography of events" or "verbal photography." 24 In the June 1936 issue, an issue that included three film stills in a new section devoted entirely to the cinema, Jolas committed his journal forthrightly against "the photographic" in literature. 25 What may seem a fairly basic contradiction, or at least a serious tension, is resolved by the simple fact that for Jolas photography was not particularly photographic. As René Crevel once put it, in a little aphorism quoted by Salvador Dalí, "painting is not photography, the painters say. But photography is not photography either." 26 That is to say, in a journal as seriously under the influence of Surrealism as transition, photography is not the most mimetic of all art forms but rather the one most intimately acquainted with the unconscious. In a single essay, therefore, Jolas can denounce "the photographic representation of life" and also declare that cinema "can give us possibilities for hallucination that check successfully the pedantry of the puritan." 27
When transition celebrates photography, then, it celebrates an art form that, at least in principle, enjoys special access to what Jolas called "the subconscious world." 28 The very automatism that, in some accounts, makes photography the most truly mimetic of all the arts, frees the camera eye from conventional patterns of human perception, removing, as Man Ray puts it, "inculcated modes of presentation, resulting in apparent artificiality or strangeness." 29 For the writers and artists who published in transition in these years, photography is most properly an art of the unseen, "the enigmatic and the marvellous," as Jolas proclaimed in 1929. 30 Simply by capturing with machinic perfection every ray of light available to the lens, the camera makes it disconcertingly clear how much ordinary eyesight depends on involuntary and unconscious filters. As Stuart Gilbert put it in a 1937 issue of transition, "the art of living is largely an art of elimination and selection; we are constantly narrowing down, sometimes deliberately, sometimes automatically, the field of our attention, in order to cope with the exigencies of daily life." 31 The role of photography, therefore, is to restore to consciousness all that is filtered out and in so doing to disrupt the invisible routines of perception; as Man Ray says "to inflict cruel contradictions on the adorers of familiar visions." 32
Perhaps the most complete development of this argument was contributed by Louis Aragon to a public debate sponsored by the Association of Revolutionary Writers and Artists in 1936, selections of which were published in transition in the fall of that year. Aragon argues that the full potential of the camera as a creative tool was only realized when movies began to influence the snapshot: "The cinema seizes millions of fleeting, impermanent aspects of the world around us. It has taught us more about man in a few years than centuries of painting have taught: fugitive expressions, attitudes scarcely credible yet real, charm and hideousness. What revelations concerning our own movements, for example, do we not owe to the slow-motion picture? What did we understand of human exertion before the slow-motion picture, what of the expressions resultant from abominable suffering?" According to Aragon, technical advances brought to still cameras from the movies and aesthetic influences from film technique transformed photography in the 1920s, making it into an entirely new art of physical and psychic revelation: "it has gone everywhere taking life by surprise: and once again it has become more revealing and more denunciatory than painting . . . It arrests moments . . . that no one would have ventured to imagine or presumed to see." In short, "the photograph teaches us to see—it sees what the eye fails to discern." 33
The revelation Aragon attributes to the camera, that eyesight itself is not faithfully mimetic, that it must actively suppress a great deal of what might otherwise be seen, was widely felt and widely influential at this time. Probably the most familiar version of this idea to contemporary criticism is that of Walter Benjamin, who gave the name "optical unconscious" to the region of sight that "the eye fails to discern." 34 The suggestion embedded in Benjamin's term that ordinary eyesight is produced and maintained by some kind of psychic effort had aesthetic implications far beyond photography itself. Most radically, it tended to collapse the distinction between seeing and representation, as James Johnson Sweeney suggested in an article, published in transition in 1936. For Sweeney, the fact that "we are forced to make our visual approach to the world about us selectively" means that seeing is itself a process of representation. Going back to Berkeley for support, Sweeney maintains that "visible ideas" are but "arbitrary signs" or even "ideographs, of which the interpretation cannot escape the subjective." 35 For Sweeney's purposes, the most significant implication of this fact is that it tends to erase the apparent distinction between abstract and representational art, which become in his analysis nothing more than two different systems of arbitrary signs. Implied, but not insisted on, in Sweeney's analysis is the far more radical reduction of the difference between the visual arts and writing. If, as Sweeney insists, vision itself is linguistic, as a process of representation based on arbitrary signs, then writing and visual art confront one another like two different languages, or perhaps two different methods of inscription.
This is precisely how photography and film were treated in transition, as modern methods of inscription, rivals to writing as much as they were rivals to the arts of the past. Just as transition purposely juxtaposed French, German, and English, and drew from this conflict entirely new, synthetic words, it used photography as a lever against all written language, hoping to draw from this conflict a renovation so basic it would be alphabetic. In 1927, Jolas demanded: "We need new words, new abstractions, new hieroglyphics, new symbols, new myths"; a few years later he put it down as "new symbols and sigils, new hieroglyphs to express what to many seems the inexpressible." 36 What he wanted in short was a new script, or, better yet, an entirely new form of representation, one conditioned by the development of new media: "The mutation now going on, which is helped dynamically by the new technological means such as the cinema, the radio, and other mechanical forces, is about to create a linguistic interpenetration that will doubtless have its effect on the final morphological process of modern languages." 37 What Jolas means here is that the new media, simply as vastly powerful methods of communication, facilitate the interpenetration of national languages, but also that as languages themselves the new media merge with the existing national languages to create entirely new forms: "The writer has new forms at his disposal, a fusion of forms in which all the senses come into their own . . . The development of the talking film and radio will doubtless have a revolutionary effect on the drama, among other things. And since sound seems to be the basis of the hear-play and the cinema-drama, it is safe to say that the problem of the new form will be the word." 38 Trilingual himself, a native of Alsace-Lorraine and New Jersey, Jolas saw "the Revolution of the Word" as one result of the clash and combination of languages resulting from the vastly increased scope of modern migration. Even more basic, however, than the clash of languages was the clash of scripts, of representational forms, resulting from the development of the new media, not just because the letter is more basic than the word, but also because the clash of scripts makes everyday life in any modern country constantly translational, as writing meets recordings, pictures, and films.
Among the polylingual forms published in transition were written works reflecting the influence of photography or film, works such as Henri Poulaille's "Mad Train," which, according to Jolas, "uses the dynamics of the screen." 39 Jolas announced in 1928 that transition would be trying to encourage "the form of the scenario," rather than the short story or the novel, "because it seems a most elastic combination of all the various forms." 40 He had already published Elliot Paul's scenario "The Ninety and Nine," which attempts to tell its story entirely through shots of disembodied hands, and he was in subsequent issues to include scenarios by Robert Desnos, John Herrman, Antonin Artaud, Georges Ribemont-Dessaignes, Philippe Soupault, and himself, under the nom de plume of Theo Rutra. In a 1936 issue, Jolas reprinted from Hugo Ball's "Dada Diary" a fragment declaring "the word and the image are one. Painting and composing poetry belong together" that might have seemed a motto at this point for the journal itself. The issue also included work from five photographers, contributions to the debate on painting and reality by Aragon, Le Corbusier, and Fernand Léger, and ten pages of stills from Paul Strand's movie Redes, shot in Mexico.
Some of the best examples of both the possibilities and the limitations of this effort are to be found in the poetry copiously contributed by Jolas himself. 41 Not only is this poetry generally trilingual, but it is also full of verbal promises of a visual text, "flamewriting," as he called it in one poem. "Soon the logotype will lightshriek bingbangbing letters in scarlet," he proclaims in a poem published in 1933. 42 Of course, the very fervor with which the poet proclaims these coming transformations, especially since it is combined with no sort of typographical experiment, for transition was printed throughout its life in a conventional letterpress, raises the question as to whether or not poetry can ever do any more than merely promise the sort of dynamic logocinema that Jolas has in mind. It is clear that Jolas thought of these poems, perhaps even of the whole semantic revolution, as depending on a "montage in words" ("WS," 103) frankly based on cinematic models. Of "one or two modern film creators" he admired, Jolas once observed, "through mechanical means they flash before our eyes a series of rhythmitized images which produces illuminations without slavish reference points in our sensual lives . . . Poetry, using the word as mechanics, may, like the film, produce a metaphoric universe which is a sublimation of the physical world." 43 The synesthetic portmanteau words on which Jolas' mature poetry depends so heavily are certainly indebted to Finnegans Wake, but they are also attempts to produce a verbal montage that would mimic the juxtapositional syntax of modern film editing. Using words as if they were frames of film was perhaps as close as Jolas could get to turning poetry into a cinematic art form.
For this reason, Jolas is frequently forced merely to evoke a cinematic situation, as at the end of a poem called "Choirprair": "We stand listening to village-rounds, paradise-animals, gleam and glast of flickerhymns." 44 The gleaming flicker hymns in this poem seem synesthetic movies, but since they obviously cannot be seen in this medium, Jolas dramatizes the act of watching and listening to them. There is quite a bit of this sort of dramatization in Jolas' poetry in transition, perhaps the most revealing example of which occurs in number thirteen: "transatlantic testament rises towards me from the electric sign-board." 45 The poem describes and also hopes to mimic words that are cinematized by their movement across the electric sign, which movement also makes them transatlantic or multilingual. But what is also important about this and other examples of dramatized spectatorship in Jolas' poetry is its public character. The electric sign, like the flicker hymns of "Choirprair," is perceived outdoors in a collective situation, like a movie or an advertisement, unlike the actual poem itself, which is read in silence by the solitary subscriber of transition. The setting is important because it illustrates one additional way in which the new media served as examples for Jolas' revolutionary project. The new script he imagined would fuse all known languages together in an "intercontinental synthesis" and "thus become the truly universal language" ("WS," 98). But its universality would rely on more than linguistic synthesis. By jumping the gap between the verbal and the visual, the new language would reach its audience collectively, as movies and radio do, and thus "bind the races in a fabulous unity" ("WS," 104). In other words, Jolas imagined the revolutionized word as a mass medium, "an inter-racial language. . . to express the collective inner vision of mankind" ("WS," 104).
Overcoming the difference between writing and the visual carries in this context much the same significance as translating between national languages. Thus Syd Salt proposes in 1928 that the slogan most associated with transition, "internationalism in the arts," be exchanged for one he feels is even broader: "The breaking down of all snobbish barriers between all arts." 46 For many artists and writers at this time, however, photography was not so much one of the arts to be integrated with the others as it was already the medium within which they had been combined. As a visual language, photography seemed to Moholy-Nagy "universally valid." 47 Jolas speaks in a 1929 issue of the "supra-earthly imagination" expressed by the camera. The "twentieth century word" he celebrates in this essay is dynamic, technological, and "suprematic," a language created largely out of the new media of the century and therefore fit for "the future intercontinental man" ("SO," 14). At this point, however, it should be clear that the significance of photography has undergone a dramatic shift. What had been considered a particular language, valuable precisely because of its disconcerting difference from conventional languages, has somehow become universal. The particular virtue of this language had formerly been its obliquity, its disorienting unfamiliarity, but in these latter passages it seems to have become utterly transparent. Photography becomes one of the gesture languages Robert McAlmon celebrates in a 1929 article, "an esperanto of the subconscious," that makes the underside of conventional daily life as ordinary as sunshine. 48
It is little wonder, then, that transition began including special sections on "Cinema" and on something called "Inter-racial Documents" at about the same time. Though there were no overt connections drawn between the frame from Steamboat Willie that appeared in June, 1936, and the Eskimo dance mask in the same issue, it is clear that both were to be seen as "inter-racial documents," instances of universal form languages, tokens of the "super-language" that Jolas foresaw emerging from the "inter-racial synthesis now going on" in North America. 49 "Primitive myths and the modern mythos are fused," as he put it in 1929. 50 Both film stills and Eskimo masks are inserted into transition without commentary, as if they were equally self-explanatory, though the Eskimo dance mask is faced disconcertingly by an article on the Fox Indians of Iowa. The very oddity of these juxtapositions reveals something, however, about the ambiguous role of the visual in transition. On one hand, visual imagery provides a fundamental tension within the general category of the linguistic. On the other hand, however, pictures are universal, and the difference they incorporate into the situation of writing exists only to disappear, as the difference represented by the Eskimo mask dissolves into the difference represented by the Fox Indians of Iowa and then into an "inter-racial and inter-continental synthesis" so massive nothing can be foreign to it. One of the reasons transition is itself such an intriguing document, that it is so revealing an example of the tensions within aesthetic modernism, is that its editors and contributors are never forced to decide between these alternatives: photography stands for everything common sense leaves out and at the same time for a kind of sense so common it leaves nothing out.
For Jolas, this contradiction was rather frequently resolved by a very particular kind of cinematography, by writing that actually moved and in so doing became universally readable and revolutionary at once. Type made out of light, especially moving light, appears in many of the visionary poems Jolas published in transition. In "Walk through Cosmopolis," for example, which appeared in 1928, "the sky was garlanded with obscure designs that brought the sting of a desire." These designs, it seems, are on the most literal level neon signs, electrified marquees, and lighted billboards, and they appear to Jolas like gigantic nighttime movies made out of type: "The revolution of my senses blazed across your towers . . . There I watched you in the vertigo that made me see the distorted films of my vision." 51 Often in Jolas' poetry, these signs seem themselves to have accomplished a revolution of the word, simply by lighting it up and putting it in motion: "You brought me the gift of the new century, divine affirmer, sirocco of electricity, pulsing of radio, express train, cinema, television! . . . Immensely the world lies before me, x-rayed in every fibre of its cosmic magic. I am no longer alone, for the electric signs paint the nocturnal screens of my visions, and the wireless strangles time and space." 52 The ability to project language across time and space, to make it available for collective consumption, makes electric signs and the wireless harbingers for Jolas of entirely new forms of literature that would somehow turn the private vision into a public spectacle and thus bridge the gap of incomprehension that usually divides different languages and different individuals.
Lit up and put in motion in this way, type acquires the essential formal characteristics of the movies, at least as they were identified in transition. According to Panofsky, "the primordial basis of the enjoyment of moving pictures was . . . sheer delight in the fact that things seemed to move no matter what things they were." 53 Movement itself, especially when added to otherwise stationary objects, formed for Panofsky the essence of film as an art, because that movement constituted the almost folkloric appeal of film to its audience. Thus Panofsky explains the connection between the most advanced recording technology and the widest possible popular audience, for this delight in movement is in his view so basic a human quality as to be universal. Other writers for transition also insisted that "mobility" is the essence of film art, and several demanded a literature that would mimic that movement: "It has to come, if our art is to have any relation to this rhythmic, moving cinematographic age of ours." 54 Or, as Jolas put it, "we need the twentieth century word. We need the word of movement, the word expressive of the great new forces around us" ("SO," 15). Words need to move, to become a literal cinematography, because only in this way can they cut against old, accepted literary usages and also reach a wide popular audience.
Jolas' demand for "the word of movement" was answered most literally by an essay that appeared in transition for June, 1930, along with scenarios by Artaud, Ribemont-Dessaignes, Soupault, and Jolas himself, writing as Theo Rutra, and an essay on "The Cinematographic Principle and Japanese Culture" by Eisenstein. The essay, entitled "The Readies," announced a new project by one of the American avant-garde's most elusive expatriates, Bob Brown. 55 For a good part of his life, Brown was little more than a hack writer, turning out jingles, advertisements, news stories, and popular novels, one of which, What Happened to Mary, was perhaps the very first film novelization, adapted from the very first movie serial, issued by Edison in 1912. 56 In the latter part of his life, Brown turned to cookbooks like The Complete Book of Cheese or Let There Be Beer. In between these two stints in the netherworld of popular journalism, Brown became one of the more intriguing of the eccentric writers filling out the edges of the transatlantic avant-garde. As early as 1914, he met Marcel Duchamp and contributed a hand-drawn poem called "Eyes" to Duchamp's New York magazine The Blind Man. After the war, Brown, like so many other American writers, found himself in France, where he fit quite naturally into the expatriate group around transition. Like Jolas, he thought of constant travel, exposure to new languages and customs, as an essential aesthetic influence on his work, an influence signified by the title of his best known book of conventional poems, Globe-Gliding, which was republished in the U.S. in 1931 as Nomadness.
If Brown is worth remembering, however, it is not because of the poems printed in Globe-Gliding or anywhere else, but rather for his attempt to do away with printed poems altogether. One of the original contributors to transition's "Revolution of the Word," Brown attempted to take that campaign in a direction in which transition, as a mere letterpress publication, could not follow. Brown imagined what was for him a natural convergence of new media and modern writing, influenced equally by "the moving electric news and advertising signs on top of great newspaper buildings," "the possibilities of the movies," the writing of Gertrude Stein, and the calligrammes of Apollinaire. 57 One of the most significant aspects of Brown's writing on behalf of "the Revolution of the Word" is this almost automatic assumption that new technological developments in the media should converge with experimental writing like that of Stein and Joyce, but for Brown this convergence had not progressed far enough, not even in the typographical experiments of Apollinaire. Changing type size or position amounts to very little in comparison to Brown's desire that the type actually move. Giving words their freedom, to adapt Marinetti's famous slogan, could only be accomplished by putting "type in motion" ("A," 153).
There is so much sheer boosterism in Brown's writing, and so much repetition, that it is easy to miss what is in fact its essential insight, for Brown realized that printing itself had already been changed by the new media: "we have advanced from Gutenberg's movable type through the linotype and monotype to photo-composing." 58 In other words, many of the pages still being read as if they were traditional print were in fact photographs, a fact only obscured by an outmoded tendency to think of word and image in oppositional terms. Many of Apollinaire's calligrammes and virtually all of Marinetti's parole in libertà are actually photographs partially composed of words, since the extreme distortions visited on text in these works are unthinkable without the techniques of photo reproduction. 59 Virtually alone at this time, Brown recognized the implications of this change, for it meant that in technological terms a significant "Revolution of the Word" had already been accomplished by the very machine in which Jolas had invested so many of his hopes for the future. Recognizing this, Brown also realized that far most drastic distortions could be accomplished than those already achieved by Apollinaire and Marinetti: "By photographic composition, which is rapidly taking the place of antiquated methods, type since 1925 has been turned out which is not readable without the aid of a magnifying glass" (TR, 32). If type could be manipulated photographically in this way, then, Brown reasoned, it could also follow photography in its development into movies. Hence the readies.
As Brown put it in one of several self-advertisements published around 1930: "modern word-conveyers are needed now, reading will have to be done by machine; microscopic type on a moveable tape running beneath a slot equipped with a magnifying glass and brought up to life size before the reader's birdlike eye" (TR, 13). At least one such machine was actually constructed; from the photograph included in the anthology Readies for Bob Brown's Machine it appears to have anticipated the microfilm reader. The promotional rhetoric that Brown supplied, however, anticipates with uncanny prescience current hoopla around the e-book: "To continue reading at today's speed I must have a machine . . . A machine as handy as a portable phonograph, typewriter or radio, compact, minute, operated by electricity" (TR, 28). The chief difference, however, is that Brown's electronic book would not try to mimic the conventional page, but would actually make the type move: "they move in on me, unroll before my mental eyes, just the same as the endless flow of words ebb and flow on my inner eye-ball" ("A," 157-58). Thus the readies, which Brown imagined as a new genre, a sort of modernist movie constructed of type: "The word 'readies' suggests to me a moving-type spectacle, reading at the speed-rate of the present day with the aid of a machine, a method of enjoying literature in a manner as up to date as the lively talkies" ("A," 176-77).
Brown called for "a literary renaissance through the Readie" ("A," 186), and he did succeed in filling one anthology of contributions, many of them from well-known modern writers. Most of these, including Stein, Pound, and Williams, sent previously published works or squibs like Williams' "Readie Pome," which didn't even pretend to take the new invention very seriously. But a few prominent writers, including James T. Farrell and Kay Boyle, "translated" earlier works for the readie machine, and at least a few of these seemed to be carried along by Brown's faith that his was the most promising front in "the Revolution of the Word." In his analysis, making the type move somehow transformed letters into pictographs and made reading into a visual activity as immediate and direct as watching a film. He called it "a new kind of writing direct to the mind through the eye" ("A," 161), a definition echoed in some of the Readies themselves, including one contributed by George Kent: "perhaps the reading machine . . . will be the maxim silencer of words. . . thoughts will go right into the head . . . heart . . . stomach . . . depending upon the aim . . . without a sound" (TR, 75). Giving words this kind of immediate relation to consciousness also meant, of course, transcending the cultural limitations that hinder particular languages. Inevitably, the readies were said to "approach closer the hieroglyphic mysteries" ("A," 168) and in so doing to become a universal method of communication: "conventional word-prejudices will be automatically overcome" (TR, 39).
Phrased in such a bald and obvious way, Brown's claim seems painfully naïve, and yet it is simply an extreme formulation of an ambition that had held great sway over European society since the days of the earliest photographs and which had come to be a common motive of modern artists and writers. The very extremity of Brown's claims and the eccentricity of his machine are valuable in exposing certain inevitable blind spots in the machine vision of transatlantic modernism. To begin with, Brown has astonishing faith in the effect of speed to overcome the conventional nature of alphabetic text. He seems to ignore the fact that the machines he envies, and on which he intends to model his reading machine, were based on new technologies of recording, not just of presentation. Despite Norman Macleod's stated intention in his readie to "write-with-Kodaks," there was in fact no machine particularly designed to produce a readie, and Brown apparently had no intention of inventing one. 60
Without any such innovation, Brown was reduced to pretending that speeding ordinary text past a magnifying glass would amount to "broadcasting with no words at all" (TR, 3). This is perhaps what he meant by his frequent claims that the reading machine would make language purely optical for the first time in history. The influence of the movies over the new medium is so strong that it allows Brown to feel that mimicking the movement of cinema would somehow short-circuit the conventional meanings of words and letters, allowing other, more genuine meanings immediate access to the eye. Thus the readies are the purest and most extreme realization of Jolas' dream of a logocinema. But even the apparently simplistic claim to operate with no words at all contains an intriguing complication, for it actually differs quite substantially from the aims of most avant-garde typography and from the actual effect of the readies themselves, which tend to make the type disturbingly apparent. On the static page, most of the readies are in fact quite difficult to read, and it is very hard to determine what, if anything, a particular readie is about, so that attention quite naturally focuses on the words themselves and on the surface effects—dashes, crosses, arrows, and other dingbats—with which the readies are liberally decorated. This is, of course, exactly the effect that much avant-garde typographical experiment seeks to achieve, bringing the text itself to consciousness by making it opaque to ordinary decoding and interpretation.
In this way Brown's readies come to resemble, at least superficially, Anémic Cinéma, the virtually contemporaneous project of Marcel Duchamp, which is a film largely made out of moving words. Together, Duchamp's film of words and Brown's words made into film seem to exemplify the way in which the visual arts and literature converged at this time within the common space opened up by the movies. But there are also significant differences between the two projects, for Duchamp turns his words into moving objects as a way of exposing the materiality, even the gross sensuality, of what is supposed to be a transparently signifying medium, while Brown is hoping that movement will finally make his medium as transparent as it has always longed to be. Perhaps these differences demonstrate the very different stakes that artists and writers had in the new media. On the other hand, Brown's readies, even in their static printed form, end up resembling Anémic Cinéma, as the devices adopted to suggest movement carry no meaning but become opaque, unreadable visual forms. Within the very desire for pure transparency, there is a formal emphasis on the signifier itself that prevents the mind from gliding effortlessly through it to the referent beyond. This is not just a simple inconsistency, a failure of practice to match theory, but rather the expression of a fundamental irony imported into modern art and literature along with the photographic model, an irony whereby avant-garde disruption and utopian transparency produce one another.
At the level of content, there is a similar irony that is even more obvious and far more disconcerting. Anyone attempting to read the readies finds that celebration of the medium itself is perhaps the most common topic, so that many individual contributions, such as Norman Macleod's "Ready: Revolution" (RFBBM, 53-54) or George Kent's "Re . . . Readies" (RFBBM, 75), tend to exhort the reader to discover what should have been implicitly apparent in the very form of the work. Thus these utopian texts often carry a message of international amity achieved through perfect communication, which is entirely appropriate for a medium that was to guarantee that "conventional word-prejudices will be automatically overcome."
The next most common subject after the readie revolution itself, however, is one that casts considerable doubt of a very particular kind on this utopian promise. Though "word-prejudices" may have been banished from this new form of literature, other kinds of prejudice clearly remain.  61 It is one of the peculiarities of the stripped-down telegraphic form of the readies that it is very difficult to distinguish authorial comment from first-person narration, and it is interesting to speculate that one of the things that the form acquires from its photographic model is an absence of irony. Thus, to be fair, it is difficult to determine exactly how Farrell wants us to take his celebration of the death of Jeff, or how Samuel Putnam wants us to take his readie, "Dirty Nigger," though it seems somewhat clearer in this case that we are being given a quasi-photographic glimpse into the mind of a bigot. Perhaps this is even the case with Laurence Vail's "Pogrom," which intersperses blunt imperatives such as "club lowly Loeb" or "pop off Oppenheim" with lines of asterixes, dollar signs, and percentage marks. 62 Even this charitable interpretation, however, does not explain why a medium that was in and of itself to defeat prejudice should take racial hatred and violence as one of its most common subjects. And even the most charitable interpretation cannot do much with contributions like Nancy Cunard's wretched "Dlink," a wholly stereotypical look at a Chinese laundryman, replete with the most ridiculous lambdacisms, which actually ends "No ticky no land'y." 63
As wholly reprehensible as this contribution is, it does represent some very significant general inconsistencies in the readies as a collective project. For the particular stereotype that Cunard relies on here has to do entirely with pronunciation, with speech, which it would seem could have no force in a purely optical medium. But, in fact, a great many of the readies include large sections of speech and many are imagined, as this one is, entirely as monologues, interior and otherwise. Cunard's piece is particularly revealing because it shows how closely even these writers, dedicated apparently to Brown's project of turning language into film, rely on purely verbal phenomena, and how much these phenomena are associated with racial and ethnic specificity of the kind the readies were supposed to overcome. The return of speech in this supposedly visual medium also marks the return of specific social characteristics to the visual text that was to be universal. Perhaps the particular returns in such virulently prejudicial forms precisely because it is denied any other, more positive expression.
Yet this return to the specifically racial in what was supposed to be "inter-racial" is not an aberration or an accident, for Brown actually suggests elsewhere that race is intrinsic to his innovations. The very few contemporary critics who have commented on Brown's work usually rely rather heavily on the metaphor for moving type that Brown borrows from Stephen Crane's first book of poems, Black Riders and Other Lines. But even Jerome McGann, who takes the phrase as the title of his excellent book on the typography of modernist literature, does not mention that Brown's "black riders" were not just moving lines of type or symbolic soldiers but also African Americans. 64 Brown was entranced by the contrast of "inky words at full gallop across the plains of pure white pages" (TR, 32-33), and he often drew on certain racial stereotypes to particularize the contrast:
commaless-Cossacks-astride-mustang-bronchs- - - - -
vocabularies-leaning-farout-into-inky-night- - - - -
picking-up-carefully-placed-phrases-with-flashing- - - -
Afric-teeth. (TR, 38).
Words in motion, words under renovation, often appear to Brown quite literally as black bodies, as in his opening essay for The Readies, where he says that authentic words show themselves when dropped in alcohol like "little ivory-toothed nigger boys diving for pennies" (TR, 4). Certainly the most spectacularly literal of such identifications appears as the colophon to Brown's book 1450-1950, a collection of handwritten visual poems, which identifies itself as having been
printed in the year
Gutenberg 479
Going on 500 years
A LITTLE NEGRO BOY BEING
DUELY RUBBED OVER THE
TYPE TO GIVE THE PROPER COLOR
AND AFTERWARD DESTROYED 65
What makes the text visible, that is to say, is race, conceived in the most prejudicial and stereotypical way possible. Brown's riders are black because the transformation of type into a visual image seems to involve a change of race as well, as if mute, purely optical characters would have to come from the continent Europe always considered to be silent, without history.
What Brown confesses here strikes at the heart of his own project and at the whole program for the visual renovation of literature pursued in the pages of transition. For he confesses, even proclaims, that the visual is not the most "automatic," least acculturated of the senses, but rather the sense to which most prejudicial claims are traditionally made. The visual is not innocent but rather deeply implicated in the history and culture of the observer, which is, as Martin Jay maintains, one of the things that the twentieth century discovered during its long experience with the camera. 66 In fact, the close identification of ink with race in Brown's books suggests that without prejudice there would almost literally be nothing to see, as if it were precisely the mote in the eye that gives it something to perceive.
Brown's colophon also expresses a common modernist ambition to transform particulars into pure form, to make specificities such as race disappear into the abstractions of a universal sign system. The persistence of race as a subject in the readies, however, demonstrates how difficult it is to transmute the actual and incidental into form. Race, in this sense, is the subject that refuses to be formalized, for the black body simply cannot be ground up into ink. This is not simply a failure in Brown's ambitions, however, but a necessary effect of the whole utopian project to reduce specific verbal languages to a single utopian visual script. In Brown's project, race exemplifies the inevitable noise, the static, the pure particularity that is the necessary complement of modernism's transparently pure forms. The drive toward a purified, universal language, in other words, did not have the result of banishing all the extraneous cultural material that had heretofore cluttered and encumbered international communication. Instead, this project emphasized recalcitrant, residual subject matter in the very process of trying to bring it over into form.
It was, in fact, in playing out this paradox that the modernist
"Revolution of the Word" most closely resembled the new mechanical
arts of photography and film. Hailed from the very beginning as a new,
perfectly transparent means of inscription, as "words of light" in Fox
Talbot's famous phrase, the photograph also disconcertingly recorded
and preserved a welter of accidental detail that seemed not only opaque
but meaningless. Taming this detail was the task of those who hoped to
transform a mechanical recording medium into an art, but, as Benjamin
insisted, "there remains something that goes beyond testimony to the
photographer's art, something that cannot be silenced . . . and will
never consent to be wholly absorbed in 'art.'"
67
The arrival of film renewed all of photography's original utopian
promise as a medium that, in showing all, could reach everyone, and at
the same time dramatically disordered what was on the very threshold
of becoming, in the hands of Stieglitz and the Photo-Secession, an
accepted formalist art. At the beginning of the twentieth century,
then, mechanization repeated the paradoxical process whereby it creates
entirely new forms of representation,
apparently perfect in their automatism, while also bringing into being
entirely new categories of nonsense, noise produced by mechanized powers
of attention and retention that vastly exceed the human. Emulating film
helped Jolas and Brown to modernize their writing only in this sense,
that it involved them and their "Revolution of the Word" in the typically
modern impasse of pure form and resistant detail.
Michael North is Professor of English at UCLA. His most recent book is Reading 1922: A Return to the Scene of the Modern (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999).
1. "Films Are Treated as Real Art by Lecturer at Metropolitan," New York Herald Tribune, 16 November, 1936. Quoted in Thomas Y. Levin, "Iconology at the Movies: Panofsky's Film Theory," The Yale Journal of Criticism 9.1 : 27. Henceforth abbreviated as "IATM."
2. Irving Lavin, "Introduction," in Erwin Panofsky, Three Essays on Style (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1995), 10. Quoted in Levin, "IATM," 29.
3. Erwin Panofsky, "Style and Medium in the Moving Pictures," transition 26 : 121-33. According to Levin, the essay had its beginnings as an informal talk, published as "On Movies," Bulletin of the Department of Art and Archaeology of Princeton University (June 1936): 5-15. The revised and most commonly reprinted version of the essay appeared as "Style and Medium in the Motion Pictures," Critique (New York) 1.3 (January-February 1947): 5-28.
4. In fact, Panofsky's lecture was arranged by Iris Barry, who had moved from the fringes of the Vorticist movement to the Spectator, where she became the first regular newspaper film critic in England. In the early 1930s, Barry moved to the U.S. and was hired by the Museum of Modern Art, where she established the Film Library, arranging Panofsky's lecture as part of the inaugural ceremonies. See Bruce Henson, "Iris Barry: American Film Archive Pioneer," The Katharine Sharp Review 4 (Winter 1997) and also Levin, "IATM," 27.
5. This famous manifesto appeared in transition 16-17 (June 1929): 13. It has been reprinted a number of times and remains influential. See, for example, Jed Rasula and Steve McCaffery, Imagining Language: An Anthology (Cambridge: MIT Press), 3-47.
6. Eugene Jolas, "Logocinéma of the Frontierman," transition 23 (July 1935): 187-91.
7. Natasha Staller, "Melies' 'Fantastic' Cinema and the Origins of Cubism," Art History 12 (June 1989): 202-32. See also David Cottington, Cubism in the Shadow of War: The Avant-Garde and Politics in Paris 1905-1914 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 134-43. Vachel Lindsay, The Art of the Moving Picture (New York: Macmillan, 1915). For a discussion of other very early literary reactions to the movies, see Eileen Bowser, The Transformation of Cinema 1907-1915 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 270-72.
8. David Bordwell, On the History of Film Style (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997), 22-24.
9. Braque's Le Damier contains as one of its elements a program from the Tivoli Cinéma at which La Petite Fifi was one of the main offerings.
10. Staller, "Fantastic Cinema," 214-15.
11. P. Adams Sitney, "Image and Title in Avant-Garde Cinema," October 11 (Winter 1979): 97.
12. For a contemporary discussion, see Noël Carroll, "Language and Cinema: Preliminary Notes for a Theory of Verbal Images," in Theorizing the Moving Image (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 187-211.
Thus Elliot Paul and Robert Sage insist in transition that "the degree to which a picture is true or false cinema is in approximate proportion to the number of subtitles which have to be used." "Artistic Improvements of the Cinema," transition 10 (January 1928): 133.
13. This did sometimes happen quite literally. In the 1907 film College Chums, for example, the contents of a telephone conversation are related by means of moving letters floating across the screen between vignettes of the two participants. See Bowser, The Transformation of Cinema, 65 and, for a similar example from a 1914 film, 249.
14. Sitney, "Image and Title in Avant-Garde Cinema," 103-5. See also the discussion of Duchamp's Machine Optique in Rosalind Krauss, The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), 200.
15. For a contemporary discussion that asserts the impossibility of surely separating writing from pictures, see James Elkins, On Pictures and the Words That Fail Them (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).
16. Bordwell, On the History of Film Style, 18. For the most complete study of this transformation in American film, see Donald Crafton, The Talkies: American Cinema's Transition to Sound 1926-1931 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997).
17. Rachael Low offers the results of a British survey conducted in 1929 in which half the men and thirty per cent of the women favored the talkies, though only nineteen per cent of those described as "people of prominence" felt as favorably. The History of the British Film 1918-1929 (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1971), 16.
18. Antonin Artaud, "The Shell and the Clergyman: Film Scenario," transition 19-20 (June 1930): 65.
19. Eugene Jolas, "Literature and the New Man," transition 19-20 (June 1930): 14. Despite the obvious presence of visual materials in transition, the emphasis in it on "the Word" has led to a general opinion aptly summarized by Douglas McMillan: "the transition revolution restored the word to a position of respectability that it had relinquished to the image." Douglas McMillan, transition: The History of a Literary Era 1927-1938 (London: Calder and Boyars, 1975), 122.
20. Jean George Auriol, "The Occident," transition 2 (May 1927): 157 and Eugene Jolas, "Glossary," transition 2 (May 1927): 184.
21. Eugene Jolas, Man from Babel ed. Andreas Kramer and Rainer Rumold (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 49.
22. Eugene Jolas, Cinema (New York: Adelphi, 1926), 68.
23. Jolas, Man from Babel, 24.
24. The Editors, "Suggestions for a New Magic," transition 3 (June 1927): 178 and Eugene Jolas, "Transatlantic Letter," transition 13 (Summer 1928): 276. See also Eugene Jolas, "On the Quest," transition 9 (December 1927): 194; "Logos," transition 16-17 (June 1929): 29; and "Paramyths," transition 23 (July 1935): 7.
25. Eugene Jolas, "Glossary," transition 24 (June 1936): 109.
26. Salvador Dalí, "Photography, Pure Creation of the Mind," in Manifesto: A Century of Isms, ed. Mary Ann Caws (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 482.
27. Eugene Jolas, "On the Quest," 194, 195.
28. Quoted in Paul Clavel, "Poetry and the Cinema," transition 18 (November 1929): 170.
29. Man Ray, "The Age of Light," in Photography in the Modern Era, ed. Christopher Phillips (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art/Aperture, 1989; henceforth referred to as PITME), 54.
30. Eugene Jolas, "Super-Occident," transition 15 (February 1929): 14. Henceforth abbreviated as "SO."
31. Stuart Gilbert, "The Subliminal Tongue," transition 26 : 149.
32. Man Ray, "Deceiving Appearances," in Phillips, PITME, 12.
33. Louis Aragon, "The Quarrel Over Realism," in Phillips, PITME, 73, 75. See also "Painting and Reality: A Discussion," transition 25 (Fall 1936): 93-103.
34. Walter Benjamin, "Little History of Photography," in Selected Writings 1927-1934, transl. Rodney Livingstone at al, ed. Michael W. Jennings, Howard Eiland, and Gary Smith (Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1999), 512. Another formulation of the same idea appears in "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," in Illuminations, transl. Harry Zohn (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968), 237. Of the vast literature inspired by this concept, particular mention should be made of Rosalind E. Krauss's The Optical Unconscious (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1993).
35. James Johnson Sweeney, "Seeing and Representation," transition 24 (June 1936): 62-66.
36. The Editors, "Suggestions for a New Magic," transition 3 (June 1927): 179; Eugene Jolas, "SO," 15.
37. Jolas, "Workshop," transition 21 (March 1932): 104. Hereafter abbreviated as "WS."
38. Eugene Jolas, "Towards New Forms?" transition 19-20 : 104.
39. Eugene Jolas, "Glossary," transition 3 (May 1927): 185.
40. Eugene Jolas, "Transatlantic Letter," 277.
41. For an excellent discussion of Jolas'poetry in light of his transatlantic ambitions, see Marjorie Perloff, "'Logocinéma of the Frontiersman': Eugene Jolas's Multilingual Poetics and its Legacies," Kunapipi : 145-63. Also of interest is Jean-Michel Rabaté, "Joyce and Jolas: Late Modernism and Early Babelism," Journal of Modern Literature 22.2 : 245-52.
42. Eugene Jolas, "Old Century Pt. 27 Takes a Vacation," transition 23 (1934-1935): 186.
43. Eugene Jolas, "Logos," transition 16-17 : 26.
44. Eugene Jolas, "Choirprair," transition 22 : 23.
45. Eugene Jolas, "Walk through Cosmopolis," transition 13 (Summer 1928): 136.
46. Syd S. Salt, "Antheil and America," transition 11 (February 1928): 177.
47. László Moholy-Nagy, "Photography in Advertising," in Phillips, PITME, 88.
48. Robert McAlmon, "Mr. Joyce Directs an Irish Prose Ballet," transition 15 (February 1929): 130.
49. Eugene Jolas, "Race and Language," transition 24 (June 1936): 112.
50. Eugene Jolas, "Notes on Reality," transition 18 (November 1929): 19.
51. Jolas, "Walk through Cosmopolis," 136.
52. Eugene Jolas, "Construction of the Enigma," transition 15 (February 1929): 60.
53. Panofsky, Three Essays on Style, 121.
54. Samuel Putnam, "Leopold Sauvage, Colored Rhythm and the Cinema," transition 6 (September 1927): 183.
55. That Brown is still known at all is almost entirely due to the brief account of his Roving Eye Press in Hugh Ford, Published in Paris: American and British Writers, Printers, and Publishers in Paris, 1920-1939 (New York: Macmillan, 1975), 302-11.
56. Robert Carlton Brown, What Happened to Mary: A Novelization from the Play and the Stories Appearing in the Ladies' World (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1913).For a discussion of What Happened to Mary, see Ben Singer, Melodrama and Modernity: Early Sensational Cinema and Its Contexts (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001), 213-14, 223, and 276, and Richard Kosarski, An Evening's Entertainment: The Age of the Silent Feature Picture 1915-1928 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 164. As the subtitle reveals, Mary, like many early serials, was issued simultaneously in movie form and as a series of short stories in a popular magazine. It also appeared on the stage as well as in novel form.
57. Bob Brown, "Appendix," Readies for Bob Brown's Machine, ed. A. Lincoln Gillespie (Cagnes-sur-Mer: Roving Eye Press, 1931; henceforth referred to as RFBBM), 172, 160, 160, 153. Subsequent citations identified in the text as "A."
58. Bob Brown, The Readies (Bad Ems: Roving Eye Press, 1930), 28. Subsequent citations identified in the text as TR.
59. Johanna Drucker, The Visible Word: Experimental Typography and Modern Art, 1909-1923 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 138; Christine Poggi, In Defiance of Painting: Cubism, Futurism, and the Invention of Collage (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 28. See also the general discussion of the implications of this fact for any complete definition of photography in Patrick Maynard, The Engine of Visualization: Thinking through Photography (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997), 18.
60. Norman MacLeod, "Ready: Revolution," in Gillespie, RFBBM, 54.
61. James T. Farrell, "Jeff," in Gillespie, RFBBM, 25, 29.
62. Laurence Vail, "Pogrom," in Gillespie, RFBBM, 15.
63. Nancy Cunard, "Dlink," in Gillespie, RFBBM, 124.
64. Jerome McGann, Black Riders: The Visible Language of Modernism (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1993), 85-97.
65. Bob Brown, handwritten colophon, 1450 -1950 (Black Sun), 1929.
66. Martin Jay, "Photo-unrealism: The Contribution of the Camera to the Crisis of Ocularcentrism," in Vision and Textuality, ed. Stephen Melville and Bill Readings (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995), 347-48.
67. Benjamin, "Little History of Photography," 510. For a relevant discussion of this passage, see Peter J. Hutchings, "Through a Fishwife's Eye: Between Benjamin and Deleuze on the Timely Image," in Impossible Presence: Surface and Screen in the Photogenic Era, ed. Terry Smith (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 109.


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--- # This file is licensed under the MIT License (MIT) available on # http://opensource.org/licenses/MIT. layout: base id: events ---
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Wow, such empty
very 100% useful and wonderfuly helpful list
totally not sarcasm
first point
point 2
point 3


300+ delegates
6 - 8th November
9 Committees
Experienced EB
Enrsdsiching Debate on Current Issues
Enthralling Awards
I, Sarthak Bansal, on behalf of the Secretariat, am honored to cordially invite you to the 2020 edition of the CHIREC Model United Nations, or the CHIREC MUN 2020.
This iteration of the conference aims to provide a platform directed at students of grades 8 to 12 to convey their unique views through debate and discussion on increasingly prominent, constantly changing world issues. We aim to provide a stimulating environment where amateurs and experienced delegates alike can collaborate at a level that promotes growth and learning, research and articulation alone with essential qualities such as diplomacy, bureaucracy and other skills required for success in today’s world, where the aforementioned skills are becoming increasingly important.
The Chirec MUN aims to be a revolutionary instrument in making the Hyderabad MUN Circuit more accessible and open for delegates. We promise to make this online MUN a remarkable and memorable experience this year as well, with the help of our impeccable, hard-working Secretariat and dedicated Organizing Committee.
We hope you attend the conference, ameliorate your skills, and immerse yourself into one of the best MUNs the city of Hyderabad has to offer.
 Hosted by one of the best schools in India, managed by an exceptional Secretariat and a dedicated Organising Committee, and moderated by an adept Executive Board, this conference is one that is sure to be remembered by all those attending. A 3-day long event full of meaningful and thought-provoking debate and discussion, it will help delegates to develop crucial skills required in today’s world. Fascinating agendas and unique committees make this edition one that is not to be missed by both amateur and experienced delegates alike. We hope to provide an enriching experience to everyone taking part in the CHIREC MUN 2020.


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