Heavy is the Head

         Here is an interesting woodcut from about 1540-50, by an unidentified Italian artist.  The subject of this portrait is Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent of the Ottoman Empire, but really the subject is the sultan’s magnificent jewel-studded helmet-crown, completed in 1532.  This helmet-crown was a very deliberate piece of propaganda.  Designed with one more tier than the papal tiara, it sent a clear message that the ruler of the Ottoman Empire was more universal and more powerful than the Pope or the Holy Roman Emperor.  Süleyman wore it to all his diplomatic audiences with Hapsburg rulers as he set off toward Vienna, intent on conquest.  (This was his second attempt to conquer Vienna, and they both ended in defeat, by the way.)

        The helmet-crown was made by Venetian jewelers and goldsmiths and was displayed in Venice at the Doge’s Palace after its completion before it was delivered to Süleyman, and the assumption is that the artist of this woodcut saw the helmet-crown in Venice.  In that case the artist had presumably not seen Süleyman wearing the crown, but had chosen to depict it that way in order to further legitimize the sultan’s claim to authority.  This is a large print, almost three feet tall by over 20 inches wide, carved on (at least?) two blocks and printed over (at least?) three combined sheets of paper, so it was probably intended for public display.

        This alone makes me curious about whether the artist was merely making a piece he thought would be popular with curious patrons, or whether he was actually a fan of the Ottoman sultan.  It also makes me curious about how heavy this crown actually was, and how onerous it would be to wear the darn thing.  But what really struck me about this jewel-studded helmet-crown is how much it reminds me of the radio-crown in children’s story Five Golden Wrens by Hugh Troy from 1946.

        I’ve mentioned Five Golden Wrens before, at this post.  The story includes not only the king’s radio-crown, but also a scheming queen who commissions jewelers and goldsmiths to create an even more impressive crown, which she wears on her diplomatic visit.  I can’t help wondering whether author-illustrator Troy could have been inspired by this woodcut of Süleyman the Magnificent’s helmet-crown!  Not only are the crowns similar, but so is Troy’s style of pen and ink drawing, showing every whisker of the king’s beard.  It’s certainly plausible that he could have seen a copy of this at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (although it is not currently on display), or elsewhere.  (I saw it in an exhibit at the Harvard Art Museum.  The version on top is at the Met, the version on the bottom is the one I saw at Harvard, owned by the Boston MFA.  They are not dated accurately enough to give a clue about why there are two versions, which came first, and whether they’re done by the same artist.  My guess would be that the second is a pirated version of the first, but I could be totally wrong about that.)

        Inspiration for stories can certainly come from all sorts of places, and I’d love to imagine that this woodcut from a turbulent time in Europe’s history provided inspiration to Troy during another turbulent time.  What do you think?

[Pictures: Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent, woodcut by anonymous artist, ca. 1540-50 (Images from The Met and Museum of Fine Arts, Boston);

Illustrations by Hugh Troy from Five Golden Wrens, 1946.]

Falling Short but Aiming High

         Frederick Douglass said, “Poets, prophets, and reformers are all picture-makers – and this ability is the secret of their power and of their achievements.  They see what ought to be by the reflection of what is, and endeavor to remove the contradiction.”  Artists are, of course, also picture-makers, and on Juneteenth it seems to me appropriate to share a linocut by Elmer William Brown (USA, 1909-1971).  Its carving is full of light and shadow, with dramatic dark-clouded sky and double outlines, both black and white, at the edges of many shapes.  I particularly like the pattern of the ground radiating out from the shovel, and the little cliff and tree to the left.  Its subject is a white overseer and a black chain gang, with all-too-many similarities to the abolished system of chattel slavery in the south.  The overseer looks scrawny and mean, the conditions rough, and an air of oppressive drama hangs over it.  Apparently the artist Brown had been incarcerated himself, for riding a freight chain illegally as a hobo, so he presumably had very personal emotions about the scene.

        This piece is showing “the reflection of what is,” in Douglass’s words, in order to get us to hold it up beside our ideals and see where we need to remove the contradiction.  Juneteenth is a commemoration simultaneously of celebration of the end of slavery, but also frustration and mourning that the promised freedom did not reach everyone as quickly or as completely as it should.  I believe it’s always important both to see the failures that exist but also to continue to hold up the ideals of what is possible without giving in to cynicism.

        (One final note.  A number of sources attribute the quotation from Douglass to a lecture he gave at Boston Tremont Temple in 1861.  However, I cannot actually confirm it in any primary source, which makes me uncomfortable.  Well, I’ve already spent enough time trying to track it down, so I just give you the caveat and leave it at that.  And of course if anyone can point me to the source, I’d be happy to see it!)

[Picture: Ol’ Peckerwood, linocut by Elmer William Brown, 1939 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art).]

Tribute to Jane Yolen

         Jane Yolen (USA, 1939-2026) was a giant in the world of speculative fiction, children’s books, and poetry.  She was the author or editor of over 450 books, including winners of the Caldecott Medal (Owl Moon), Nebula Award (Lost Girls), Locus Award (Pay the Piper), and World Fantasy Award (The Emerald Circus), plus she received a World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement.  I can’t add anything substantive to the recent articles celebrating her work, but I do want to acknowledge her life.

        In 2021 I was on a Poetry Reading panel with Yolen during the Boskone convention, and I was absolutely thrilled to be rubbing shoulders with some towering figures.  (Not just Jane Yolen - just look at this line-up!)  We had an absolute blast, making up silly little verses together as we waited for the panel to begin, admiring each other’s poems, and enjoying the great audience, as well.  Being in February of 2021, however, this convention was held on-line.  Afterwards I had a brief email correspondence with Yolen and then in subsequent years a couple of brief conversations with her at other (in-person) cons, mostly on the topic of Quakerism, which she had for a while been involved with.  In all of this she was gregarious, encouraging, and with a fun sense of humor.  I very much appreciated meeting her.

        Of course a blog about fantasy, with a special focus on juvenile fantasy, could hardly run for very long without mentioning some of Jane Yolen’s books.  Here are some prior posts in which I mentioned works of hers.

Fairy Tale Retellings (Briar Rose)

Feminist Fantasy Picture Books (Not One Damsel in Distress)

Monsters and Aliens (“The Giraft”)

Dinosaur Fantasy (How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?)

        On a seemingly unrelated note, in 2025 I did a Poet Laureate collaboration with Needham Open Studios in which I recruited artists to host Poetry Stations where visitors could collect ekphrastic poems: poems written in response to and about works of visual art.  The strange coincidence is that among the 10 poems I chose to be distributed, one was by Jane Yolen while another was a poem of my own inspired by a painting by David Hockney, who also happened to die on June 11, 2026.  I include them both here. (Don't forget you can click on the picture to make them big enough to read.)

        Jane Yolen will certainly be missed, but she leaves a huge legacy of thoughtful, sometimes funny, sometimes powerful, imaginative work for all ages.

[Pictures: Boskone58 program details, 2021, illustration by Julie Dillon;

“Grant Wood: American Gothic,” poem by Jane Yolen from Heart to Heart, ed. Greenberg, 2001; American Gothic, painting by Grant Wood, 1930 (Image from Art Institute of Chicago);

“Remembering Dreams,” poem by AEGNydam, 2025; Garrowby Hill, painting by David Hockney, 1998 (Image from Museum of Fine Arts, Boston).]

Jigsaw Printing

         The jigsaw method of printing is a way to print multiple colors while carving only one block.  The basic idea is that after carving a block you cut it apart into separate pieces for each color.  You can then ink each piece separately with a different color of ink, reassemble the inked block (hence the term “jigsaw”) and then print it all together as one block.  This has the advantage of saving time, as you’re pressing only once, and it also has the advantage of ensuring that all the different colors are perfectly lined up every time, which can be difficult when printing separately.

        I tend to think of this as a modern method, but in fact it was used in the second major book printed with moveable type in Europe: the Mainz psalter of 1457.  The Gutenberg Bible (about which you can read more here) included both black and red ink, but after a brief experiment with printing each page twice for the two colors, Gutenberg decided it was easier to print just once and have someone add the red letters by hand afterwards.  The Mainz psalter, printed by Johann Fust and Peter Schöffer, who had split from Gutenberg, included black, red, and blue ink.  It appears to have been printed with just one pressing for each page, meaning that the colored initials were inked separately and then set into the forme with the black letters.  And even more to the point for the jigsaw technique, the extra-fancy woodcut initials that include both red and blue ink were cut so that the letter slid apart from the ornamental surround, so they could be inked in two separate colors and then fit back together.

        Just for fun, I’ve included here for you the same letter B, once from the 1457 edition and once from 1459, because I think it’s interesting that the blue and red are reversed.

        Jigsaw printing is a technique I’ve wanted to try for a while, and I’ve just done a first simple experiment with this cat luxuriating on a comfy blanket.  The thing is, though, that Fust and Schöffer, as well as today’s artists who use the technique, use oil-based ink.  This allows them all the time in the world to ink as many different little bits of the block as they need and carefully reassemble them all before printing.  Because I generally use water-based ink which dries much more quickly, I don’t have time to ink multiple pieces and put them together before getting my paper pressed onto the reassembled block.  So this piece, while carved jigsaw style, was actually printed with each of the two pieces separate.  That meant I did still have the challenge of registration (getting the separate pressings to line up). 

        Despite not getting the full advantage of having my pieces reassembled before pressing, I’m still pretty pleased with this latest Cat Art.  (My next show isn’t until the fall, so I won’t know until then whether other people find it pleasing, too.)  At some point I may try a proper jigsaw block with oil-based ink - I do have a couple of ideas - but I confess that getting out multiple colors of oil-based ink at once may be a bigger mess than I have room for.  In any case, though, it’s an interesting technique.

[Pictures: Ornamental B and C, wood block prints from Mainz Psalter, 1457 (Images from University of Manchester);

Ornamental B and D, wood block prints from Mainz Psalter, 1459 (Images from Bodleian Libraries);

Life of Luxury, rubber block print by AEGNydam, plus photos of block, 2026 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

Creature Collections: Hidden Worlds

         Most of the Creature Collections I’ve featured over the years take the form of encyclopedias or field guides, listing a range of fantastical creatures said to be found in our world.  (If you’d like to see all the Creature Collections so far, look in the sidebar or here.)  Today I’m highlighting some books that play with the conceit of discovering different worlds of creatures.  Each of these books has actually been mentioned before in this blog, but I thought they deserved to be pulled together under the Creature Collections category.

        The Land of Neverbelieve, by Norman Messenger - This lavish book is the record of a visit to a mysterious island and the strange things seen there.  The watercolor and colored pencil illustrations are dreamlike, and the pages fold out to give even more room for pictures.  There is no story or apparent order to the information gathered here and Messenger's imagination has wandered freely, so there's a lot to look at.  Back when she was much younger my daughter T especially liked all the funny trees with their surreal shapes and produce.  I featured a few of these plants in my series of posts on the Botany of the Realms of Imagination: giant curly ferns, umbrella palms, and spaghetti trees.

However there are plenty of creatures in this book, as well!

Amarant, by Una Woodruff - This one reproduces the sketches and watercolors of a seventeenth century noblewoman whose travels brought her to the mysterious island of Amarantos, which was once known as Atlantis.  As a botanist, our artist was focussing her observations on plants, but the book finds its place among my creature collections because so many of the plants of Amarantos happen to be plant-animals hybrids with insects, birds, all kinds of other creatures, and even dragons.  This makes a fun coffee table book, excellent simply for admiring the pictures, however it dates back to 1981 and is no longer readily available.  I was lucky to find a used copy.  In past posts you can see the flower of immortality and a couple of insect-plants, as well as the Dragon Vine and Dillcorn.

        Codex Seraphinianus, by Luigi Serafini - This one is a little different in that it includes no story whatsoever, and all the text is written in an imaginary alphabet of some sort.  One chapter is on plants and you can see spreads of those illustrations here and here, but there are also chapters on machines and vehicles, cultural items, architecture, and of course creatures.  It’s another one that’s best for browsing through, and it’s beautiful, surreal, very weird, and definitely an oddity.  (Also first published in 1981, so clearly there was something in the air that year.)

        Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time, by James Gurney - The creatures in this book (followed by a series of books and other media) are not fantasy per se, since dinosaurs did of course actually exist.  But this is a fantasy version of dinosaurs, in which they have survived and evolved in intelligence but not form, and now are living in a collaborative society with humans.  As with the other books in today’s post, it’s the beauty of the illustrations that provides the appeal.  Like the others it’s in the form of an explorer’s notebook recording all the amazing things he discovers, and the magic of the book is in inviting us to immerse ourselves in the gorgeous pictures of wondrous things.  You can see mention of

Dinotopia along with some illustrations of these magical dinosaurs in a Steep Street, a Skybax rider, and Treetown.

        This is exactly the sort of book I was constantly devising in my childhood, with maps and short explanations, along with pictures of people, buildings, landscapes, and plenty of fantastical creatures.  Of course, my little booklets were neither as comprehensive nor as expertly illustrated as these!  If you’re in the mood for a strange and wondrous armchair journey, I recommend a look at any of these books, if you can find them.

[Pictures: Of Marsh and Stream, illustration by Norman Messenger from The Land of Neverbelieve, 2012;

Unicorn bird, illustration by Una Woodruff from Amarant, 1981;

Illustration by Luigi Serafini from Codex Seraphinianus, 1981;

Skybax Rider over Dinotopia, painting by James Gurney, c 1992 (Image from Heritage Auctions).]