entrepreneur but he is not an
updated version of Wilde’s dangerous, corrupted hedonist. The
novel’s reconstruction of Wilde’s narrative through Wotton
indicates an engagement with postmodern ideas, which are also
represented in the novel through numerous references to contemporary
art. The novel focuses also on the dead and the dying, and reworks the
problem of meaning and absence that characterise a
Poe‘s Anti-Representational Invocations of the Near East
Poe‘s poetry and fiction are full of cultural and religious references to the Near East. This essay suggests that Poe‘s invocations of the Near East are part of a deliberately anti-representational strategy for dealing with cultural difference that constitutes part of Poe‘s understanding of one of his most central concepts, the ‘arabesque’. This anti-representational strategy is built on Poe‘s sympathetic reading of texts associated with the Near East, Islam, and Arab and Persian cultures.
The diabetic body can be mapped as a profoundly Gothic landscape, referencing theories of the monstrous, the uncanny and the abject. Diabetes is revealed under what Foucault has termed the medical gaze, where the body becomes a contested site, its ownership questioned by the repeated invasion of medical procedures. As an invisible chronic illness, diabetic lifestyle is positioned in relation to issues of control, transformation, and the abnormal normal. Translating the Gothic trope of the outsider into medical and social realms, the diabetic body is seen as the Othered body ceaselessly striving to attain perfection through blood purification rituals. This essay examines how diabetes is portrayed in film and fine art practice from the filmic approach to diabetes as dramatic trope to fine art techniques that parallel ethnographic and sociological approaches to chronic illness.
Interviewing can be a vampiric act especially when it involves leeching from its subject
the fluidic exchange which exists between life and art. The vampire novelist Anne Rice had
agreed to let me interview her at Waterstones Bookshop in Bristol, England, on 26 January
1993 about the fourth book in her Vampire Chronicles, The Tale of the Body
Thief (1992). In the interview she describes the novel as dealing with the
differences between art and life and mortality and immortality. Specifically, the story
examines the paradox of choosing to be Undead for the sake of life, and the way in which
art opens up a locus for a redemption that is outside of life. In my view, the text is as
much about the process of interviewing as about authorship. A more obvious example is
Rice‘s well-known novel Interview with the Vampire (1976) in which the
hapless interviewer eventually enters into the very narrative he is recording by becoming
another Ricean revenant.
This book presents a study that is an attempt to understand the phenomenal
increase in the production and demand for stained glass between about 1835 and
1860. The book provides both history and context for thousands of Victorian
stained-glass windows that exist in churches across the country. It aims to: ask
why people became interested in stained glass; examine how glass-painters set up
their studios; and understand how they interacted with each other and their
patrons. To understand why so many windows were commissioned and made in the
Victorian period, readers need to understand how buying a stained-glass window
became a relatively ordinary thing to do. In order to examine this, the book
focuses on those who wrote or spoke about stained glass in the formative years
of the revival. It is important to look at the production of stained glass as a
cultural exchange: a negotiation in both financial and cultural terms that was
profitable for both glass-painter and patron. The history of Victorian stained
glass allows an examination of many other areas of nineteenth-century cultural
history. Readers can learn a lot about the aesthetics of the Gothic Revival,
ecclesiology, the relationship between 'fine' and
'decorative' art, and the circulation of art history in the 1840s.
While many interesting glass-painters have necessarily been omitted, the author
hopes that the case studies in the book will provide a point of reference for
the research of future scholars.
The Gothic is haunted by the ghost of William Blake. Scholars of the Gothic have long recognised Blake’s affinity with the genre, often invoking his name, characters, and images in passing. Yet, to date, no major scholarly study focused on Blake’s intersection with the Gothic exists. William Blake’s gothic imagination seeks to redress this disconnect and, in the words of another ghost, to lend a serious hearing to a dimension of Blake’s work we all somehow know to be vital and yet remains understudied. The essays here collected do not simply identify Blake’s Gothic conventions but, thanks to recent scholarship on affect, psychology, and embodiment in Gothic studies, reach deeper into the tissue of anxieties that take confused form through this notoriously nebulous historical, aesthetic, and narrative mode. The collection opens with papers touching on literary form, history, lineation, and narrative in Blake’s work, establishing contact with major topics in Gothic studies. The volume, however, eventually narrows its focus to Blake’s bloody, nervous bodies, through which he explores various kinds of Gothic horror related to reproduction, anatomy, sexuality, affect, and materiality. Rather than his transcendent images, this collection attends to Blake’s ‘dark visions of torment’. Drawing on the recent interest in Gothic studies on visual arts, this volume also highlights Blake’s engravings and paintings, productions that in both style and content suggest a rich, underexplored archive of Gothic invention. This collection will appeal to students of Romanticism, the Gothic, art history, media/mediation studies, popular mythography, and adaptation studies.
essential properties of the metal and it was not long before parallel
arguments were applied to stained glass. 27
Closely linked to judging art in moral terms, and absolutely
vital for the practicalities of funding the Victorian church-building
project, was the implied status conferred on the patron of
‘true’; art. After a lyrical passage describing a gothic
interior that expresses the ’;sublimity
A mere artisan?
JOHN TOMS inhabited a different world
from the people who produced the ecclesiological discourse on stained glass.
It is doubtful whether he set out to gain artistic credibility, at least in
the same sense that William Warrington did; nor did he represent himself as
a pious religious artist producing Christian art. In fact, more than anyone,
Toms resembled Winston’s worst nightmare: the
increasing credibility of the gothic style, fuelled by theorists, designers
and architects. New churches were built in the gothic style and thousands of
existing medieval churches were restored and redecorated. So Victorian
church-building and the form it took provided the necessary preconditions
for the revival of stained-glass production.
Stained glass was thought of by many as a lost art, ripe for
revival, and a range of artisans
glass. Since Porter’s treatise was published eight years
before Bell officially founded his studio, it is tempting to speculate that
Bell might have discovered Porter’s treatise via the porcelain trade
and that it was a factor in his decision to become a glass-painter. Porter
points out the technical similarity between the two processes several times:
‘The art is, indeed, in most particulars, so extremely analogous to