anything like the
degree that he had done in Sebastiane , make the near-naked body of a
suffering man the object of a pleasurable gaze. The gaze in The
Garden is directed more consistently inward and the most relevant points
of reference are not so much the many sensual Renaissance representations of
the Passion but rather Dürer’s intense, brooding, Christ-like
self-portraits and the writings of Wilde and Jung on the imitation
Scholars of eighteenth-century literature have long seen the development of the
Gothic as a break from neoclassical aesthetics, but this article posits a more
complex engagement with classical imitation at the origins of the genre. In
Horace Walpole’s formative Gothic novel The Castle of Otranto,
his Gothic drama The Mysterious Mother, and in the curiosities
in his villa, classical elements are detached from their contexts and placed in
startling and strange juxtapositions. His tendency towards the fragmentation of
ancient culture, frequently expressed through the imagery of dismemberment,
suggests an aesthetic not of imitation, but of collection. Moreover, rather than
abandoning or ignoring the classical, Walpole reconfigures literary history to
demonstrate elements of monstrosity and hybridity already present in Greek and
For educated poets and readers in the Renaissance, classical literature was as familiar and accessible as the work of their compatriots and contemporaries – often more so. Their creative response to it was not a matter of dry scholarship or inert imitation, but rather of engagement in an ancient and lively conversation which was still unfolding, both in the modern languages and in new Latin verse. This volume seeks to recapture that sense of intimacy and immediacy, as scholars from both sides of the modern disciplinary divide come together to eavesdrop on the conversations conducted through allusion and intertextual play in works from Petrarch to Milton and beyond, and offer their perspectives on the intermingling of ancient and modern strains in the reception of the classical past and its poetry. The essays include illuminating discussions of Ariosto, Du Bellay, Spenser, Marlowe, the anonymous drama Caesars Revenge, Shakespeare and Marvell, and look forward to the grand retrospect of Shelley’s ‘Adonais’. Together, they help us to understand how poets across the ages have thought about their relation to their predecessors, and about their own contributions to what Shelley would call ‘that great poem, which all poets… have built up since the beginning of the world’.
This book offers a comprehensive account of the methods and practice of learning modern languages, particularly Italian, in late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century England. It suggests that there is a fundamental connection between these language-learning habits and the techniques for both reading and imitating Italian materials employed by a range of poets and dramatists, such as Daniel, Drummond, Marston and Shakespeare, in this period. The widespread use of bilingual parallel-text instruction manuals from the 1570s onwards, most notably those of the Italian teacher John Florio, highlights the importance of translation in the language-learning process. More advanced students attempt translation exercises from Italian poetry to increase their linguistic fluency, but even beginners are encouraged to use the translations in these manuals as a means of careful parallel reading. This study emphasises the impact of both aspects of language-learning translation on contemporary habits of literary imitation, in its detailed analyses of Daniel's sonnet sequence ‘Delia’ and his pastoral tragicomedies, and Shakespeare's use of Italian materials in Measure for Measure and Othello. By focusing on Shakespeare as a typical language-learner of the period (one who is certainly familiar with Florio's two manuals), it argues that the playwright was clearly influenced by these Italian reading practices.
Didi-Huberman and the image is an introduction to French art historian and philosopher Georges Didi-Huberman. With an enormous body of work spanning four decades, Didi-Huberman is considered one of the most innovative and influential critical thinkers writing in France today. In this monograph art historian Chari Larsson presents the first extensive English-language study of Didi-Huberman’s research on images. Placing Didi-Huberman’s project in relation to major historical and philosophical frameworks, this book shows not only how Didi-Huberman modifies dominant traditions, but also how the study of images is central to a new way of thinking about poststructuralist-inspired art history. This book explores the origins of Didi-Huberman’s project, arguing he has sought renewal by turning the discipline of art history on its axis, wresting it away from its founding ‘fathers’ such as Giorgio Vasari and Erwin Panofsky and instead reorganising it along the poststructuralist lines of Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida and Gilles Deleuze. An image is a form of representation, but what is the philosophical framework supporting it? Didi-Huberman takes up this question repeatedly over the course of his career.
experimentation, crafters began producing elaborate daggers in flint (Frieman and Eriksen 2015 ). Although widely considered imitations of metal daggers, instead they seem to emerge from exactly the same sort of technological tradition, and in some places they pre-dated the adoption of copper daggers by generations (Ihuel et al . 2015 ; Steiniger 2015 ).
In other words, while the first Europeans to smelt copper may have lived in southeast Europe sometime in the fifth millennium BCE, as metallurgy was adopted more broadly it was re-interpreted and re-invented repeatedly to
Real sympathy, the imitation of suffering and the visual arts after Burke’s sublime
Wounding realities and ‘painful
excitements’: real sympathy, the imitation
of suffering and the visual arts after
Edmund Burke’s Philosophical Enquiry (1757/59) is bustling with claims
calculated to destabilise established views on taste.1 In particular, the focus
of his theory of the sublime on physical pain threw the spotlight on various
irregular experiences that changed the polite conformation of the fine arts.
After years of scholarly neglect,2 David Bromwich has drawn attention to
the shocking aspects of Burke’s book,3
most of his contemporary commentators on the theatre, Heywood is more interested in the history of staged performance than literary history. 2 Accordingly, he looks to Greece especially for the origins of acting, which he locates provocatively in the charged figure of Hercules. 3 By shifting his focus from written texts to embodied performance, Heywood alters a familiar account of theatre’s Greek origins into a strange and unsettling model of imitation and its consequences.
Heywood rests his defence of acting on a set of assumptions about imitation. If copying
importance: the number of people using the platform, and the number of
different code repositories stored there. I deal in this chapter only with
the things – the repositories – not the people. The counting I undertake will focus on problems of copying, duplicating, and imitation of
things – repositories – that render large numbers a moving substrate.
Software developers (coders, hackers, geeks, software engineers,
software architectures, programmers, scientists etc.) turn to Github
to find, deposit, discuss, collaborate, publish and tinker with code.
Across a gamut of