Current Issue
Issue XVIII (Spring 2024)
Superman tends to be a divisive superhero, and the main issue is centered around his superpowers. While some fans are drawn to the immense scope of his powers, others find it a source of contention, as his abilities sometimes lead to questions about narrative tension and relatability. The ongoing discussion about the vast magnitude of Superman’s powers inherently delves into the complex nature of his dual identity. All-Star Superman (created by the author Grant Morrison and illustrator Frank Quitely in 2011) is a story that beautifully displays the dichotomy and harmony of Superman and Clark Kent. On a single page of the graphic novel, Superman’s narrative is challenged by seamlessly blending his two opposing sides into one through the visual integration of his dual identities.
The imaginary space is a significant element in any verse text, establishing a unique discursive situation between the poet and the reader. The creation of it involves a lot of riddles, hints, and specific pointing gestures, making it especially hard to translate. Is there even a way to translate the unique poetic effects of this section of the text into another language? In my research, various translations of Emily Dickinson’s poetry into German provide a source for the analysis of possible strategies of translators, among which Paul Celan is the most noticeable.
In examining open-source aesthetics, which are often clinical and exacting, this article explores how feminist methodologies might offer reparative modes of envisioning conflict to ensure greater social justice. The case study presented in this paper analyzes an open-source report produced by the New York Times Visual Investigations Unit, including a formal analysis of a contemporary video documenting the Ukrainian/Russian conflict, examining the way that truth claims are asserted through the “right to look,”, as theorized by Nicholas Mirzoeff. Through the prism of this theory, I contend that open-source counter-visualities can effectively challenge state power and could benefit from the deployment of feminist aesthetics that humanize digital formations of marginalized subjects with greater empathy, more robust ethical protocols, and efficacious strategies.
Although Frankenstein speaks exclusively through the voices of men, feminist ideals persist through the characters’ conflicts with each other as the novel unfolds. The prime example is Frankenstein’s protagonist, Victor Frankenstein, whose main conflict manifests between himself and his creation. This relationship parallels the emotionally complex experiences of women through the journey of pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood. Shelley uses Victor, to introduce issues of birth and creation without disrupting the status quo of male-dominated narratives popular at the time she was publishing. Shelley effectively creates a monster, both literal and metaphorical, that induces the same fears of getting pregnant and giving birth that women encounter in a society that already restricts and controls most aspects of their lives.
When analyzing these snapshots of native and North Africans, a few questions start to emerge: If ancient historians discriminated against these individuals, what do their sculptural representations say? Were they depicted similarly to their Italian neighbors? If so, can we say that they were equals? The Romans’ view of their new African subjects is nuanced and paradoxical. I argue that although Roman artists depicted politically powerful North Africans such as Juba II of Mauretania (ca. 50 BCE–24 CE) and Septimius Severus (ca. 145–211 CE) with reverence, common Black Africans were depicted as household items with exaggerated physical characteristics.
In nineteenth century English society, antisemitism resulted from long-standing antipathies towards Jewish people combined with societal conditions. Historians and literary scholars explain how Victorian authors encouraged antisemitism. However, they view these works as separate incidents of antisemitism, disconnected from both each other and places, like Eastern Europe. This limited perspective precludes a comprehensive understanding of the interwoven character and global ramifications of antisemitism during the Victorian era. By analyzing Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist and George du Maurier’s Trilby, this paper argues that while Victorian authors used antisemitic stereotypes because of historically ingrained hostilities towards Jews, antisemitism also arose as a response to particular circumstances and conditions that emerged in England during the nineteenth century. Exploring these works in relation to each other reveals how antisemitism in Victorian popular culture is part of an interlinked historical phenomenon of hostility toward Jews.
A “supermodel” of the Victorian Era, Elizabeth Siddall (1829–1862) is forever memorialized in the paintings and poetry of the men she sat for, the Pre-Raphaelite Brothers, including her eventual husband, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882). However, the depictions of Siddall created by these men are not authentic. They captured her likeness to create characters, using her image to tell stories of literary and historical figures and heroines of myths and legends — all with an aesthetic, romantic, and sensual undertone. Siddall was a face and body used for the Pre-Raphaelite method of art for art’s sake. An artist in her own right, Siddall is survived by her poetry and paintings. After Siddall’s death, few of her letters and diaries remained. Any conclusions made about her actual life and personality are drawn from these bodies of work. The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood’s portrayal of Siddall in their art and poetry created a narrative of her life that, when compared with Siddall’s own art, romanticized and glorified a life of struggle, illness, and addiction. To tell the story of Siddall, one must acknowledge both her art and that of the Brotherhood.