Much as I hate to admit it, semicolons are terribly old-fashioned; look, now that I’ve consciously used one, I feel like saying “Harrumph!“, “2nd inst.“, “Yrs etc.” In fact, these days it would be a pretty safe bet that more semicolons are used for winking smileys than for punctuation. 😉

Yet here’s a lovely little 2008 article from the New York Times about the public recognition received by a semicolon put in a City Transit sign by the transit agency employee Neil Neches.

Apropos of nothing, of course; I just thought you’d like it! 😉

The Voynich Manuscript belongs to an elite club of mysterious and as-yet-unread historical artefacts. But might this club be about to lose a member?

An article in the July-August 2008 edition of the archaeology journal Minerva (as reported by the Times) declares that the Phaistos Disc may well be a hoax. Having already debunked a number of questionable artefacts in the past, Jerome Eisenberg is well-placed to spot fakes: he now suggests that the Italian archaeologist Luigi Pernier did not discover it in 1908 in the Minoan palace of Phaistos on Crete, so much as plant it there, to try to keep up with the stream of Cretan discoveries being made at the time by Sir Arthur Evans and Federico Halbherr.

As evidence for a hoax, Eisenberg points to the (implausibly) perfect uniformity of the “pancake” with its (implausibly) cleanly cut edge, together with the (implausible) movable-type-style stamping.

As evidence against, other people point to similarities between the Phaistos Disc and the marks on the Arkalochori Axe, as well as the subtle similarities between Phaistosese and Linear A.

It’s a Gordian knot, one which only a sharpened knife can untie satisfactorily: best of all would be a non-destructive thermoluminescence test, to determine when the object was fired – and if it was fired circa 1908, that would be the end of that.

What do I think? Having been to Crete for my own close look at the Phaistos Disc in the museum (and yes, I bought a reproduction home, it’s a bit touristy but what the hey), I have to say I’m far from convinced it’s a hoax. What particularly intrigued me was the place where the reproduction and the original differed – around the rim. You see, if you look really closely at the rim, you can see traces of marks that appear to have been worn away – yet (as far as I know) these marks have not been transcribed or reproduced anywhere.

At the time, this seemed to me to be the topmost portion of an entire iceberg of detail. In the same way that you can often learn more from the marginalia than the text, here I suspect that you can learn more about the Phaistos Disc from its rim than from its stamped letters. What seem to be unique features may well turn out to be improvised solutions to problems specific to the particular function that the disc performed. But that’s another story!

For more discussion (including some comments from Jerome Eisenberg himself), there’s a useful page here. You might also be interested to see this wonderful page full of (mostly) mad Phaistos Disc / Phaistos Disk theories, which rather puts my list of Voynich theories to shame. Oh well!

Another day, another curiously contentful blog to set me thinking: this time it’s Alterati, “The Inside Scoop on The Outside Culture”, and specifically a two-part article there from October 2007 entitled “The Yellow Sign: Manuscripts, Codices, and Grimoires“.

In Part 1, the discussion swoops from our old friend the Codex Seraphinianus (yet again), to Borges’ Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius, to Newbold’s claimed microscopic writing in the VMs, and then on to a powerful idea: that “a void, the right void, will spontaneously generate a stop-gap if there’s enough market pressure“, i.e. given sufficient market demand to scratch an itch, people will start selling backscratchers.

Or perhaps ideas manifest themselves – the more real an idea is the quicker it pops into existence in library-space […]. I still think of grimoires as notes from a journey rather than road maps but I’m now also starting to think of these books as emergent properties of a weird market pressure which demands sources for belief systems“: i.e. given sufficient ‘market demand’ for a religion, books claiming to be the sources of those religions will spontaneously appear.

Here, I suspect the Alterati blogger is thinking about the legend surrounding the Codex Gigas (because that’s what he goes on to discuss), but that seems a little dubious: just about all of the Codex Gigas is mundane, if not actually dull (there’s a set of hi-res scans here, the famous devil picture is on p.290, but big deal, I say). However, it’s actually far closer to the truth with The Grand Grimoire, which is supposed to date to 1522 but which seems to scratch a peculiarly 19th century itch.

In Part 2, the focus shifts to Roman Polanski’s The Ninth Gate, a film I really enjoyed but thought no more than a piece of celluloid mythmaking, a seductive summoning-up of the taste of the Devil’s sulphurous kiss to titillate and amuse. However, I had no idea at all that it was based upon a book – The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte. Fascinating stuff! (And yes, I’ve already ordered myself a copy). There’s also a set of the engravings from the film online.

After various idle speculations on the Lovecraftian mythos, our Alterati blogger friend wonders whether the mysterious roving figure of Corso (the book dealer / detective in The Ninth Gate / Club Dumas) is actually based on Wilfrid Voynich. Hmmm… Wilfrid Voynich, as played by Johnny Depp? It’s fairly sublime (I get more of a David Suchet vibe): but perhaps I’m wrong…


I think you’ll have to decide for yourself. 🙂

Over the past few months, I’ve been tracking where this Voynich News blog appears in Google’s search results for “Voynich”: it has been as high as #1 and as low as #13, which is quite a variation. It seems to lurch up to #5 (behind Wikipedia and voynich.nu, with two links each), before slowly sinking down to about #12 over the following fortnight, before cycling back up to #5 (or occasionally #1) again.

The other sites in the top 12 typically date from 2004 or before (equivalent to about 30 Internet years) and refer to each other a fair bit: and their age, interconnectedness, and accumulated inward links all work together to give them a Google PageRank of 5 or more when viewed as a network.

By way of comparison, Voynich News is part of a small new network of Voynich-related sites with few inbound links, and so has a PageRank of only 3. Furthermore, because the older sites are rarely (if ever) updated, their PageRank won’t “flow” to Voynich News, whereas whenever Voynich News links to one of them, part of its PageRank flows out to supports theirs.

So why does Voynich News cycle around the first 12 places? I strongly suspect that to keep the PageRank values “fresh”, every once in a while Google completely discards its PageRank cache and incrementally rebuilds it as it crawls around the Net. And so, without the impact of PageRank on its position, Voynich News would consistently be at #1-#5 (i.e. based solely on its content relevance). But as the PageRank cache gets progressively rebuilt, down it slides. 🙁

To get a higher PageRank, I’d need people to mention it on their blogs and sites: but this rarely happens (Google also tries to filter out backlinks in comments, for example, as this was how an earlier generation of trolls tried to artificially inflate their PageRank). However, there’s a big wave of Voynich interest coming later this year and forwards, so my only real crime is to be ahead of the game. Shame on me for being too early! 😉

I’ve been updating this blog with (I hope) relevant and interesting Voynich-related stuff pretty much every day for ages now: but I’ve pretty much hit the limit of what I can do with Google and Blogger alone. For example, Blogger sites get penalised by Google because Blogger does not place different keywords or descriptions in the META tags in the header: but Google owns Blogger, for goodness’ sake!

If Blogger simply added a set of META “keywords” based on the tags in a post, and had a configurable META “description” that only got put on the root page of the blog, I think that would be a huge improvement as far as SEO (“Search Engine Optimisation”) goes. But Blogger seems more interesting in adding in useless sidebar Gadgets that nobody really benefits from, which is a shame.

I’d love to go in and turn Blogger round, as I think right now it’s a wasted opportunity for Google: but it seems easier from where I’m sitting just to start my blog all over with a different blogging host, one which gets the SEO basics right. Which would be a shame, but there you go.

There’s one little-known curiosity about META tags: if you don’t have them on a web page (like most of the older sites in the Voynich network I mentioned above), then Google may well use the description given for the site in the Open Directory Project (though you can disable this with “NOODP” in a META tag). Seeing all the descriptions from the ODP I had recently edited suddenly popping up in the search listings for Voynich was quite a surreal experience for me (even though they have since disappeared again!)

My top blogger tips for high Google search results are therefore:-

  • Find out the PageRank of sites that rank highly on searches for your keyword – this is the value your blog will have to match in order to appear near the top most of the time (for comparable content, that is). You can find this out with the PageRank searcher from SEO Chat, or the SEOQuake plugin (for IE and Firefox).
  • PageRank is based on unique contentful inbound links to your blog (a repeated link in a site template, such as someone’s sidebar list of blogs, makes little or no difference). How do you get these? Be nice to other bloggers lots of times, and hope some link back to you!
  • Getting from PR3 to PR4 (and then to PR5) will take time and effort. Even high quality inbound links from directories (such as the Open Directory Project, which people always used to think was helpful) may also not help because these often get duplicated around the Web – and when Google notices duplicates, it can reject all of them (pretty much).
  • Don’t use Blogger, find a blog host who gives you proper control over META tags (sorry, Google/Blogger, but that’s the way it is right now).

On 12th April 2008, artist and well-respected alchemy expert Adam McLean posted up a fascinating picture of the baths of Pozzuoli he had found from the third quarter of the fifteenth century, and commented on its many strong similarities with the Voynich Manuscript’s water section. Excellent research, I thought… but how come I hadn’t seen it before?

Though Adam didn’t mention his source, a little detective work revealed that the image is entitled “Balneum Sulphatara“, folio 4 of Valencia Bibl. Universitaria MS 860 (formerly 138). And I had seen it before: an extremely over-exposed black-and-white version appears as plate 62 of C. M. Kauffmann’s classic 1959 “The Baths of Pozzuoli: A Study of the Medieval Illuminations of Peter of Eboli’s Poems“. But really, you’d barely recognize them as the same.

Unusually, Valencia MS 860 has good date and provenance information for it. Kauffman (p.82) says that De Marinis dates it between 1455 and 1458: and that it stayed in the “Aragonese royal library in Naples until the Franco-Spanish conquest of 1501“, when it moved to Spain until the present day. Kauffman also asserts that it was derived from the Bodmer (Geneva, Bibliotheca Bodmeriana) De Balneis MS, which he dates to the “third quarter of the fourteenth century”, and placed as “Southern Italian”.

If you compare the Bodmer Balneum Sulphatara drawing (f.3, Kauffman plate 21) with the Valencia one (f.4, Kauffman plate 62), you can see the reasons why the former was very probably the source of the latter: every figure is reproduced between the two MSS, each with extremely similar size and orientation. Their differences are merely ornamental: the wooden bath sides got upgraded with a fancy fish-like motif in the Valencia MS, while the top edge of the cave has taken on a stone-like ‘wolkenband’ appearance there.

But the big question: was either of these also a source for the Voynich Manuscript? I’ve gone through all the plates in Kauffman really closely, and I have to say that on that evidence I really don’t think that the water section of the VMs is an enciphered De Balneis. However, I am quite sure that the VMs’ author had definitely seen a copy of De Balneis and was influenced by it when constructing his pictures, in the same way that Rene Zandbergen persuasively argues that the author must have seen the manuscript now known as MS Vat. Gr. 1291 before drawing the zodiac section.

In fact, I interpret this in terms of steganography, in that I believe the style used for Vat. Gr. 1291 was appropriated as the cover cipher for the VMs’ zodiac section, while the style used for the Bodmer MS and Valencia MS 860 formed the cover cipher for its water section. Whereas the particular drawing similarities between the VMs and Valencia MS 860 simply arose from having been drawn in the same general period: correlation, but not causation.

I should close by noting that Adam McLean made his own in-depth art history study of the Voynich Manuscript, posting his results on the set of pages here. One of the most compelling similarities comes from his comparison of the lozenge-shaped tiles in the picture here: but that’s a discussion for another day…

Flicking through a fairly recent copy of the New Yorker in the dentist’s waiting room just now, I read a review of Jean Hollander’s translation of (and Robert Hollander’s extensive notes on) Dante’s Paradiso, the third part of the Divine Comedy. To be honest, I never had much patience with the Paradiso, all the fun in Dante was in the Inferno, a point of view this Slate article basically seems to agree with: so I never got to read about the pilgrim’s meeting with God right at the end…

Which is a shame, because there’s something interesting there which deserves a closer look. While it’s not strictly speaking cryptographic, it is linked in with the whole sacred geometry thing which people insist on projecting onto late medieval / early modern paintings and architecture, and which is essentially a form of hidden messaging (“Neoplatonic steganography“, if you will).

In the final canticle (Canticle 33) of Paradiso, Dante struggles to find words to describe the experience of meeting God: and in the end settles on an intense light (but one which the eye is attracted to rather than repelled away from), inside of which can be seen “three orbs of triple hue” (though I think the Hollanders translate these as “circles”). Dante finishes by comparing his attempts at describing the experience as no less futile than attempts to square the circle: where Man (extending the geometric metaphor just that little bit further than other poets would) is the square and God is the circle.

Anyone with even a passing familiarity with Leonardo should be aware of his representation of “squaring the circle” in his ‘Vitruvian man’. But there are a number of other early modern artworks which supposedly use a square to represent Man or Earth and a circle to represent God or Heaven. Jerusalem was supposedly round because it was a representation of Heaven, which (as any fule kno) was perfectly circular (Ptolemaic epicycles notwithstanding): which forms a (forgive me) circular argument within whose causal chains it is hard to disentangle the Platonic from the Ideal from the proto-religious.

Having said all that, Charles Hope’s argument as to the non-existence of most claimed examples of Neoplatonist allegories in Renaissance art would seem to cut a big Wile E. Coyote hole beneath most supposed examples of Renaissance sacred geometry. Even a big modern book in this general vein such as Richard Stemp’s “The Secret Language of the Renaissance” contains hardly any persuasive examples of sacred geometry: Stemp’s discussion of Massaccio’s Trinity (pp.210-213) seems a little forced in the way he ‘finds’ a circle in the background to enclose the square he has constructed around Christ.

But there is at least one artwork of the period with an inherently geometrical construction, and where Man is represented as a square and God as a great big dove at the centre of a circle, with Christ in the overlap between the two (though I can’t for the life of me think of the name of it). I had thought of this as a possible counterexample to Charles Hope’s skepticism about Neoplatonism, in that it does seem to bear the hallmarks of what is generally known as sacred geometry. However, a careful visual reading of it (when I can remember what it is!) may instead simply show it to be no more than an allegory literally derived from the last canticle of Dante’s Paradiso: in which case it may well be that we can basically consign Renaissance sacred geometry to the historical scrapheap.

Something to think about, anyway. 🙂

Another day, another Voynich novel to read: but “Enoch’s Portal” by A.W.Hill is certainly one with a heady sense of ambition. The flame the author wants us readers to touch is nothing short of an occult ‘Theory Of Everything‘: a kind of quantum alchemy, linking Cathar euthanasia with Renaissance magic all the way through to Nazi Germany, the Temple of the Sun (though this is the name of a 1969 Tintin film, the Order of the Solar Temple is what is really meant) and the twin modern magics of finance and Hollywood. And the threads binding this bulging mass of ideas together are the Voynich Manuscript, an impossibly virginal woman called Sofia, an impossibly filmic hero called Stephan Raszer, and… former Czech president Vaclav Havel. Ohhhh yes.

The Voynich aspect of the book is straightforward enough: the author buys in to Leo Levitov’s whole Cathar Endura ritual reading of the manuscript, along with all the John Dee fairy dust that people like to sprinkle on the VMs to make an otherwise unpalatable mystery taste that little bit sweeter. Yet the author has a character called Dr Noel Branch describe the VMs as “A theurgic riddle in the guise of soft-core pornography” and insisting that the “the key might lie in those silly illustrations” which are usually dismissed as nonsense: which would seen to indicate that Hill has at least properly engaged with the VMs on some level. 🙂

But for me, Hill gets enough of the history wrong in important places to break the narrative spell: for example, John Dee was never Emperor Rudolf’s alchemist (though Edward Kelley was, and Sinapius / de Tepenecz arguably came close enough too [though one might perhaps call him the “Imperial Distiller”]). Which is a bit of a shame, as this isn’t really a key support for the story.

Speaking of the story: in it, Stephan Raszer’s job is basically to track down rich women lost in cults, empathize with them, show them his own scarred wrists, have them fall in love with his failed-actor good looks, and convince them to transfer their (implicitly sexual) passion for the cult over to him… so that he can then haul them back to the pampered bland existance in Richville they worked so hard to escape from, thereby earning his handsome fee.

But Raszer is not so much a character as a filmic construct, formed from the unholy merging of a Kundalini/chakra-obsessed later Stevan Seagal (though Raszer never actually fights as such), a later Arnold Schwarzenegger (his “I don’t shoot peepul, I only saif cheeldren” phase), and the asexual 1990s James Bonds, who (along with their audiences) were neither shaken nor stirred by the various Dreary Hi-Tech Plot Devices Of Doom placed in their paths.

Females in “Enoch’s Portal” fare little better: Raszer’s partner comes from the same mop-up-all-the-loose-plot-threads school as did Tom Cruise’s impossibly capable assistant in “The Firm” (Holly Hunter); while the empowered modern women Raszer meets are all so, errrm, “enmoistened” by his good looks that they basically make love to him while his soul leaves his body on a brief spiritual holiday. Ghastly stuff.

All the same, there was a good idea in here: though Raszer lives in a supernatural world of walk-ins, succubi, and the like, the cults he deals with are basically spiritual frauds – which leads to an (actually quite interesting) question of whether Raszer is in fact delusional… but this is never obviously addressed.

Really, the problem I had with the book is that (whether it is actually true or not) it comes across again and again as having been written by someone who has watched too many trashy 1990s action movies and taken too many drugs, all the while not really engaging with the world around them. The thought kept returning when I was reading the book that it could all have been redeemed if only the author had done X or pulled back from Y… *sigh*. All in all, I just wish that Hill had had the courage of his convictions and written a screenplay instead, rather than the book of the film in his head. Oh, well!

It all started off with a plausibly-phrased story making an incredible claim via a dodgy animated GIF…

A March 2008 article by Ryan Ball in Animation Magazine claimed that the oldest piece of animation had been discovered: a 5,200-year-old rotating bowl from Tehran, a bit like an inside-out zoetrope depicting a jumping goat. When I saw this, I immediately wanted to blog about it: but there was something wrong about the 9-frame animated GIF at the bottom that held me back…

Reading a little more (as you do), I found a 2006 post on Neil Cohn’s Visual Linguist website (apparently the jumping goat bowl had originally been news in 2005) that deconstructed the GIF: the sequence of frames had been doctored to make it look more like an animation (a term Cohn felt wasn’t really justifiable) than it really was, because there were only actually 5 “frames” in the sequence on the bowl.

The last comment on Cohn’s page points to Alexis Chazard’s more appropriate 5-frame animation of the goat, taken directly (as far as was possible) from actual pictures of the bowl. There’s also a nice set of photographs from Iran that put the bowl more into context here.

All in all, I think it’s a huge shame that someone went to the trouble of mocking up a dodgy 9-frame GIF, apparently to try to oversell the animation aspect of the bowl. If that person had simply assembled the 5 frames exactly as they appeared (particularly if they had found specific evidence of an axis of rotation and had specifically taken 5 pictures at 72 degree rotation intervals, la la la), it would have been a perfectly acceptable demonstration. Basically,in a 5000-year-old artefact, nobody’s expecting Shrek to jump out at us, och no, Donkey. 😉

Incidentally, the first documented zoetrope came from the Chinese inventor Ting Huan in about 180AD: not many people know that, unless you’re a bit of a Wikipede (or should I say “Wikipedant“?) (or “Wikipedophile“?)

Voynich News just raced past the 2000 visitor mark (not counting mails sent to email/blog subscribers), which is nice: time to take stock and aim for a million visitors now, surely?

Over the last few days, I’ve been trying to do too many things at once, particularly with the arrival of a truly fabulous book from the American Philosophical Society (Vincent Ilardi’s “Renaissance Vision from Spectacles to Telescopes”), which has somehow even been able to displace Thorndike Volume IV from the top of my reading list. I’ve also been writing an article, writing up more of the Treadwell’s Magic Circles evening, reviewing both Evelyn Welch’s “Shopping in the Renaissance” and an incredible web-based “booklet” that has to be seen to be believed… but I’m getting ahead of myself. You’ll see soon enough!

The Voynich Manuscript meme continues to tap at our cultural windows, asking politely to be let in from the rain. And sometimes people do…

For example, here’s a knitted squid sitting on a copy of Gawsewitch’s “Le Code Voynich” (don’t be put off by the LiveJournal 14+ age warning, it really is a knitting page).

Over at evilbore, Eric P is getting cross about how the VMs is sneaking in under the cultural radar: “What’s caused this subconscious societal permeation of this obscure text?” he asks, before linking to Voynich News (good call!)

Or alternatively, here’s someone called Malcolm starting a game of Lexicon based around a (fictional) deciphering of the VMs. Lexicon is an RPG where players take on the role of cranky scholars building a faux Wikipedia (one letter at a time, hence the name) around a fictional world, while trying not to cite themselves. Errrm… just like the real Wikipedia, then. 😉

Norbert R. Ibanez has posted up some thoughts on the VMs in ‘English’ (with a PDF you can download): though his ideas may be basically OK, I don’t like his automatic translator much. 🙁

And finally, I’ve had some visitors from a posting about my VQ (“Voynich Quotient“) page put up on the Yog-Sothoth forums (dedicated to H. P. Lovecraft and Call of Cthulhu players). One poster mentions “Keeper’s Companion Vol. 1, p.63“, where it presumably links the VMs to the Necronomicon: add that to the ever-growing web of Voynich references out there.