Religious organizations are asking for permission to use this photo by Marac Andrev Kolodzinski
Hand-lettering by Edward Gorey, Anchor’s first art director, 1953-1960.
roof-streets of Masuleh, Iran
The interior of La Compania Church in Quito, Ecuador, January 1929.Photograph by Jacob J. Gayer, National Geographic
Treasures of Faith Preview
Here’s a 1593 edition of Thomas Aquinas’s complete works. This engraved title page features an ornate pediment with Christ at its center. Corinthian columns double as frames, bolstered by female figures (anthropomorphic renderings of Theology and Philosophy). Beneath the title is a portrait medallion of St. Thomas, who stands amongst the cameos of four Church Fathers.
This beautiful piece—a shining example of early modern theological writings—belongs to Treasures of Faith: Twenty Years of Acquisitions, a spotlight exhibition that’ll open on Wednesday. It’s one of several extraordinary items, selected from the 8,000 religious volumes that the Newberry has acquired in recent years. Highlights include a critical edition of Augustine’s Works; the Decretals of Pope Gregory IX (1227-1241), which are a fundamental compilation of canon law; and a stunning 1648 King James Bible, bound in elegant silver.
Treasures of Faith would not have been possible without the Sister Ann Ida Gannon Initiative. Launched in 2010, this massive project—named for Sister Ann Ida Gannon, former president of Mundelein College—was designed to conserve and catalog more than 8,000 volumes. In 1991, Gannon transferred the Mundelein rare book collection to the Newberry. Her generosity inspired subsequent gifts from Chicago-area religious institutions.
It’s not quite relevant, but we couldn’t resist: In honor of Earth Day (April 22), here’s an issue of Mother Earth, printed in August of 1914. On its cover is a drawing by Man Ray, the famed Dada artist. The image offers a bleak portrayal of humanity, torn asunder by capitalism and government.
Mother Earth was an early twentieth-century journal, edited by known anarchists Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman. It was, in its own words, “devoted to social science and literature.” Mother Earth’s pages contained articles on labor practices, education, literature, state and government control, and women’s emancipation. Its subscribers and supporters were a “who’s who” of the radical left, including Ben Hecht, Leo Tolstoy, Margaret Sanger, and Eugene O’Neill.
The machine’s interface—its outward representation of the numeric self—is no longer the cold, bureaucratic punchcard. It’s the avatar, the selfie: the lovingly curated, intangible image of the I. The cloud, and particularly its social-networking mechanism, personalizes depersonalization. It allows us to design our own representation of the numeric self. Behind the scenes, it’s still all ones and zeroes, but whereas the punchcard brought the binary code into clear view, the avatarial image hides it. The apparatus of control wears a new face, and that face is our own.
The Umbrellas (Project for Japan and Western USA), Christo, 1987
Twitter is a deliberate abstention. Somehow I hate the idea of there always being, in the back of my mind, this little voice saying: “Oh, I should tweet about this.” Which knowing me, I know there would be. I’m sure some people can do it in a fun and healthy way, but I don’t think I could. Plus, it’s kind of funny – I’ve spent my whole life learning to write very slowly, for maximum expressiveness, and for money. So the idea of writing really quickly, for free, offends me. Also, one of the simplify-life things I’m doing is to try to just write fiction, period. There was a time there a few years back where I was writing humour, and screenplays, and travel journalism so on – just trying to keep the juices flowing and kick open some new doors. These, in turn, led to a period of sort of higher public exposure – TV appearances here in the US and some quasi-pundit-like moments. To be honest, this made me feel kind of queasy. I’m not that good on my feet and I found that I really craved the feeling of deep focus and integrity that comes with writing fiction day after day, in a sort of monastic way. So that’s what I’m trying to do now, as much as I can manage. And Twitter doesn’t figure into that.