In 1895, the same year as Edison's and the Lumière brothers’ early film exhibitions, Stephen Crane, a 22-year-old bohemian New Yorker – a man who had never witnessed combat in his life – published The Red Badge of Courage. The novel was heralded as a graphic and compelling account of the United States Civil War, told through the eyes of a young Union private and based largely on accounts from veterans, historians, and a popular postwar anthology, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, a collection of essays and personal diary entries from both Union and Confederate veterans.1 Crane's novel, the story of Union private Henry Fleming's soldiering life, narrates the Civil War in first person and is informed by the emotive capacity and authoritativeness of first-person accounts of soldiers who fought the war. First-person testimonials, preserved in the letters and diaries of Civil War soldiers, evoked in Crane's novel, serve as competing histories to the ones written by historians and journalists. These competing histories can be read as counter-histories – alternative accounts that challenge the work of war journalists and even pictorial accounts – on the basis that a firsthand account serves as a more authoritative narrative of events.

More than a century later, in an early scene in Saving Private Ryan, General Marshall, while ordering the mission to find the missing James Ryan, reads aloud ‘The Bixby Letter’, words of condolences written by Abraham Lincoln to bereaved mother Lydia Bixby:

Nieuw Amsterdam, 1664

Fed by trade with the Caribbean, the Dutch Republic, and the Indians, Nieuw Nederland (New Netherland) nearly flourished. With the arrival of so many small, young families who had not realized the affluence and prosperity of the Gouden Eeuw (Golden Age), the population approached 9,000 souls. Here many achieved a measure of security and status thanks, in no small part, to their Indian neighbors. In an increasingly competitive market, however, the Indians who brought furs to Nieuw Amsterdam (New Amsterdam) were frequently assaulted. When they came to the shores of Manaháhtaan (Manhattan), traders such as Tomas Lambertsz, Juriaen Blanck, Jan Dircks Meijer, Harmen Douwensz, Juriaen Blanck de Jonge, and Jan Evertsz would not allow them to exchange their furs with whomever they wished. Rather Indians were frequently grabbed by the arm, taken to the home of a trader, and forced to exchange their furs. Such actions must have reinforced the image of the savage Dutch among the Lunaapeew (Lenape). Hoping to maintain the peace Dominee (Reverend) Selijns celebrated in his letter to the Classis of Amsterdam, the Council passed an ordinance to better regulate the Indian trade on June 23.

The English, on the other hand, did not remain quiet. After his brother, King Charles II of England, granted him vast tracts of land in North America that included Nieuw Nederland, James, Duke of York, sent Colonel Richard Nicolls to seize and administer the colony on his behalf.

In the late sixteenth century the Dutch Republic was inundated with Indian images. Bartolomé de las Casas's account of Spanish atrocities against American Indians, first published in Antwerp in 1578 as Seer cort verhael vande destructie van d’Indies, was subsequently published in Amsterdam in 1607, 1609, 1620, and 1640. In 1588 Hans Staden's account of his captivity among the Tupi Indians of Brazil came off a press in Antwerp as Warachtige historie ende beschrijvinge eens lants in America ghelegen. Ten years later, José de Acosta's account of the natural history of the West Indies was published in Haarlem. Given the popularity of these works among the literati in the Dutch Republic, it is quite clear that there were many people in the Nederlanden (Low Countries) who were just as curious about Indians as their European neighbors.

Dutch Reformed theologians were also curious and looked to the Bible to incorporate Indians into a Reformed worldview. The biblical “Other” were the Gentiles, or non-Jews, to whom Christ had called his followers to bring the good news of salvation. When Johannes Dyrkinus translated the Bible into the Dutch vernacular in 1562, he chose the term heydenen to describe the biblical “Other.” Subsequent translators did the same. Thus, when predikanten (preachers) conceptualized Indians in their sermons and pamphlets they presented Indians as blinde heydenen (blind Gentiles) to whom the Dutch were being called, by God, to present the gospel through the preaching of the Bible and the Christian conduct of colonists, which of course necessitated social interaction. These sermons and pamphlets were intended to convince the hearers and readers—including members of the Staten-Generaal (States General), the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie (United East India Company or VOC), the Geoctroyeerde West-Indische Compagnie (Chartered West India Company or WIC)—that spreading the gospel among American Indians ought to be a priority.

Since many of the founders and leaders of the WIC and the colony of Rensselaerswijck were ardent Calvinists themselves, their sermons did not fall on deaf ears. In fact, Dutch ziekentroosters (comforters of the sick) and predikanten were consistently given instructions to proselytize among the Indians over the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. These instructions were followed, to various degrees, by the ziekentroosters and predikanten who served in Nieuw Nederland (New Netherland).

According to literary scholar Kylie Cardell the contemporary diary can take a variety of forms: ‘a performative space, a print genre, a digital platform, a behavior regime, a smartphone app’. Traditionally, as Cardell reports, the diary is viewed as a fundamentally private and intimate mode of selfdocumentation and self-examination. Think here of old fashioned daily or nightly ‘Dear Diary’ regimes which provided a space to divulge (and commit to paper) one's innermost dreams, desires, thoughts, and feelings. When such diaristic activity is presented on a digital platform, the confidant invoked by ‘Dear Diary’ is replaced by the fickle and unreliable ‘Dear Public’ or ‘Dear World’ as the title of Cardell's book puts it.

On the typical online blog, the entries (daily or otherwise) that would normally constitute the substance of a personal diary are presented to readers in real time and are often subject to interaction from others; approbation or criticism can be expressed through the comments function. Alongside these kinds of text-based online life writings, increasingly images are being used as a means to chronicle the occurrences and concerns of daily life; photographs are as much ‘a trace of a moment’, as Phillipe Lejeune puts it, as a written diary note. Indeed Cardell cites James E. Young's contention that diaries are like photographs insofar as they are ‘remnants of their objects’ that have the authority of reality. This chapter considers what kinds of diaristic self-reporting and self-reflection are facilitated by the image-sharing digital platform Instagram.

The romance begins with the death of Hormuzd. Khusrau inherits a relatively stable empire, but he also struggles with the ongoing threat of insurrection by Bahram Chobin. He is eventually defeated by his rival, and Khusrau rides away from his kingdom into exile. As he travels alongside the painter Shahpur, his companion tells him stories of his travel to cheer him; Khusrau listens apathetically until Shahpur describes an Armenian painter who has created the portrait of a sweet woman (Shirin) on silk, that he has copied. Khusrau demands to see it and, upon gazing at her image, begs to know her identity. Shahpur informs him that this is Shirin, the niece of Queen Mihin Banu, and she is known for her wisdom, intelligence, bravery and beauty: qualities that make her worthy of a king. Inspired by this ringing endorsement, Khusrau rides towards Armenia, where he happens upon Shirin and her retinue on the hunting ground. The two are rendered speechless at their first meeting, and Shirin is thrilled to realize that this is the famous king Khusrau, with whom she is familiar by name and legend and has secretly longed to marry. She greets Khusrau humbly, kissing the ground in front of him and his stirrup; he in turn dismounts and kisses Shirin’s foot. Despite his insistence that he is en route to Byzantium, Shirin convinces him to accept her hospitality at the palace, and Khusrau is received with much respect by Mihin Banu.

A royal reception is prepared for the visitors and the wise men of the court. After an evening of wine drinking, Khusrau is offered a bedroom and five or six maidens for his pleasure, which he refuses. He is thinking only of his desire of Shirin, and she is in turn longing for him. The lovers declare their mutual affection and pass several days in revelry, but Shirin refuses to consummate the relationship. He confides in her about his trouble with Bahram Chobin and his intention to ask for assistance from the Byzantine emperor, and she offers the use of Shabdiz, the fastest horse in the kingdom. He promises to return for her hand once he has regained his throne, but when he reaches Rum, he is obligated to wed the emperor’s daughter, Maryam, in exchange for the support of the Byzantine army.

This study has illuminated several new aspects of life in the early modern Persianate world. At the heart of the research lies the ability to present one’s beliefs by donning clothing and textiles with iconography representing the inner self. Love in the Khamsa functions as a literal and metaphorical manifestation of the Sufi quest for union (tawhid) with the divine creator, and the woven images of lovers meeting allows the wearer to reference – and perhaps experience – the moment of ecstatic revelation.

The Khamsa lovers, penned originally by the twelfth-century poet Nizami Ganjavi and in response by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi in the late thirteenth century, were upheld in elite circles for centuries as edifying examples of proper behaviour. This includes the fallible but passionate Khusrau, whose desire for Shirin helped him evolve into a wise king, and the wandering poet Majnun who was transformed by his separation from Layla into an enlightened dervish. The beloved in each tale also embodies ideals for women: the virtues of patience, forbearance and steadfastness ultimately increase the lover’s devotion. Silk depictions of the narratives demonstrate the erudition and internal mystic striving of its wearers, whose characters were recognized by viewers familiar with Khamsa poetry, especially within the courts of Sufi kings from the Safavid and Mughal realms.

During the early stages of the Sino-Japanese war, which had erupted in July 1937, it quickly became apparent that the Chinese air force urgently required modern fighter aircraft which combined a high rate of climb with superior manoeuvrability.

The Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company (CAMCO), founded by American William Douglas Pawley, had assembled a series of Curtiss Hawk II and III fighter planes for the Chinese Nationalist government. Pawley was also president of Intercontinental Corporation, this company was sales representative for Curtiss-Wright in China during the second half of the 1930s. The strong ties between Pawley and Curtiss-Wright were the stepping stone for development of a new light weight fighter which would meet the demands of modern air war.

DEVELOPMENT

Work on this new fighter type started in the St. Louis branch of the Curtiss-Wright Company. The most important design philosophy was to employ a high power engine combined with an airframe as light and compact as possible. The design team, led by Willis Wells (project engineer) and George A. Page jr. (chief engineer), drafted a design which would evolve into the CW-21 fighter.

THE CURTISS-WRIGHT COMPANY

The Curtiss-Wright company was formed on 26 June 1929 when the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company merged with the Wright Aeronautical Corporation. The company was organised in an aircraft division (Curtiss) and a division constructing engines and propellers (Wright). The headquarters was located in New York City. During the years before the merger Curtiss had purchased the Keystone, Loening, Robertson, Travel Air and Moth companies, but these were all dissolved during the Great Depression of the 1930s. Production of some types were continued under the Curtiss-Wright company name at the St. Louis facilities – the former Robertson plant. Other businesses such as the Curtiss-Wright Flying service had to discontinue activities.

The completely redesigned CW-19R-12 advanced trainer, armed with two forward firing light machineguns. (Missouri historical society collection)

The new fighter shared some design elements first used in the CW-19L, which was originally designed by the Curtiss- Robertson company as CR-2 Coupe, before this company was absorbed in the Curtiss- Wright company. The CW-19L was introduced in 1935 and was intended as private aircraft featuring side by side seats and streamlined fixed landing gear, covered with trouser type fairings.

Abstract

This essay explores the topic of chopsticks to illustrate the haptic aesthetics of eating as a form of everyday aesthetics. After analyzing the art of eating, conceived in the stricter sense of styles of ingesting food, this chapter explores this art as a form of aesthetic and social performance in everyday life. It does so through the prism of chopsticks, noting in particular their relationship to haptic, proprioceptive, and other somaesthetic pleasures. Examining factors in the history of chopsticks in East Asian cultures, the essay highlights differences in the styles of chopsticks and their use in the food cultures of China, Japan, and Korea.

Keywords: chopsticks, eating, haptic aesthetics, somaesthetics, China, Japan, Korea

The activities of eating and drinking are manifestly present in every culture, in every age, and among all the different classes of society. Life would be impossible without such acts and their regular daily performance. Apart from occasional days of total fasting (such as the Jewish Yom Kippur), the everyday activities of eating and drinking are performed every day and most typically more than once a day. Not only a necessity of life-sustaining nourishment, they are a source of life-enriching pleasures and entertainment, and they have long been cultivated as such through the arts of cuisine, winemaking, and brewing, but also through the various decorative artistry of serving vessels and utensils with which we eat and drink. However, the dominant Western philosophical tradition has long excluded these arts and pleasures from the domain of aesthetics and the realm of beauty.

We see this already in Plato. In Greater Hippias 298e–299a, he limits beauty (τὸ καƛόν) to what is perceived through the senses of sight and hearing. He explicitly excludes the perceptual pleasures of “food and drinks” (as well as “making love”) from being beautiful because they depend on other senses, namely taste, smell, and touch. The privileging of the distant senses of sight and hearing over the more proximal senses of taste, touch, and smell remains central to the powerful idealist tradition of philosophical aesthetics and rests on the assumption that sight and hearing are both cognitively and spiritually superior because they are less bodily in that their objects are more remote from the body. Complementing this ancient argument against eating as an activity with aesthetic potential is a further argument from perhaps the most influential modern theory of aesthetics, that of Immanuel Kant.

Abstract

Art practice in Japan is intertwined with everyday life. The “tea ceremony” (cha-dô, literally the “way of tea”) is an example. This chapter focuses on the theory of the Japanese tea ceremony by Kakuzo Okakura and Yoshinori Onishi, exploring how everyday life is the main topic of modern Japanese aesthetics. The ceremony is an aestheticization of the ordinary action of drinking tea, testifying that beauty consists in treating the smallest incidents of life aesthetically. It is held in a teahouse designed for the ceremony, creating a space of conviviality. The focus of the tea ceremony is not a resulting work of art, but rather the process of performance, and also steady training in both a mental and physical sense. The essay argues that these characteristics are based on the Japanese understanding of the “dô” (in Chinese: dào) and that the creativity is not attributed to individuals but to it.

Keywords: tea ceremony, teahouse, dao aesthetics, Japanese aesthetics, cha dao

Introduction

Aesthetics as a modern philosophical discipline and the modern idea of art – both of which were established in eighteenth century Europe – were introduced in Japan in the late nineteenth century as a part of modernization or Westernization. At the turn of the century, however, aesthetics as a modern philosophical discipline took root in the Japanese intellectual world, where art was addressed chiefly in the context of everyday life. The idea of “the aesthetic life [biteki seikatsu]” – a term coined by Chogu Takayama (1871–1902) in 1901 – may be considered the leitmotiv of modern aesthetics in Japan and marked the Japanization of modern Western aesthetics. In my view, a traditional Japanese view of art in the sense of gei-do (literally “the way of art”) underlies this idea of aesthetic life. This chapter will focus mainly on the theory of the Japanese tea ceremony, cha-do (also pronounced as “sa-do,” literally “the way of tea”), by Kakuzo Okakura (1862–1913), also known by his sobriquet Tenshin, and Yoshinori Onishi (1888–1959) – two representatives of Japanese academic aesthetics in the first half of the twentieth century – and explore how and why everyday life became the main topic of modern Japanese aesthetics.

Art and Life

As a starting point for my argument, this section briefly examines the aesthetic theory of Ernest F. Fenollosa (1853–1908), who exerted significant influence on Okakura.