Online webcomic Sandra And Woo has just taken a detour into CryptoLand, with a Voynich-inspired page called The Book of Woo to celebrate its 500th edition. What’s more, author Oliver Knöerzer (AKA “Kernel River Zoo”) has offered a $250 reward to “the person who is able to provide a decipherment that’s sufficiently close to the plain text“, plus “another $100 to two charities determined by the readers who contributed the most useful information for breaking the code.” Really, Oliver, I’d have helped regardless. 😉

The Book of Woo’s most obvious predecessor would seem to be the Codex Seraphinianus, which is also “primarily a work of art, not a puzzle for the general public“, though I wouldn’t describe the Book of Woo as being quite as hardcore as that (but then again, what is?). The Vick Industries cipher seems to be a more design-oriented mindset entirely, though the art-house rationale behind that has yet to emerge into the light.

How is anyone supposed to decrypt The Book Of Woo? Helpfully, Knöerzer does throw a handful of hints in our path, though mainly about what it isn’t rather than about what it is. He says:-

* The encryption isn’t based on an algorithm only suitable for computers which executes a loop 100 times or something like that.
* The encryption isn’t based on some sort of device or mechanism that is hard to get.
* No “classical” steganographic method was used since that would just be impossibly hard to crack.
* The plain text is some sort of literature, as one can guess from Woo’s comment and the illustrations. A lot of time went into the plain text as well, it’s not just a copy of the first page of Rascal or something like that.

But he also warns that “[if] you think you can simply carry out a frequency analysis on the letters and be able to reconstruct the English or German plain text this way, well, that’s just a waste of time.” Indeed, even a brief look at the text reveals blocks of characters arranged in a very artificial CVCV (consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel) manner. There are also quite a few patterns that are repeated multiple times: here’s a colourized section of the first page, so you can see a bit of what I’m talking about…

book-of-woo-page-1-colourized-cropped

What’s going on here? Well… I’ve had a few brief email exchanges with Oliver recently, so have possibly at least a flicker of an idea. And given that he has already openly flagged both the Voynich Manuscript and my book on it (The Curse of the Voynich) as having been useful (he’s even reused the Voynich’s “T” gallows character in his cipher alphabet), it probably wouldn’t hurt to recap a few Voynich-related observations here. 🙂

The first thing to say about ‘Voynichese’ (the structure that shapes the Voynich Manuscript’s text) is that there seem to be two main schools of thought: (a) that it’s a cipher system that for some reason our statistical toolkits aren’t able to help us much with, and (b) that it’s a real language but we’re too in love with our analyses to see the bleedin’ obvious.

(For the record, I’m in the (a) camp, which means that when I look at a map of all the different types of Voynichese evidence, I want to understand what kind of trick was used to confound all the different statistical tests, rather than throw my hands up in the air and say “Stats, shmats!”.)

The second thing to note is that almost all of the Voynich Manuscript is written using a very compact alphabet (roughly 22 characters), whereas The Book of Woo uses something like fifty unique shapes (I haven’t transcribed it yet, but that’s how it looks). What connects them is that they are both very predictable at the character level… up to a point. That is, in some circumstances you can reliably predict what the next character along is going to be, but in other circumstances predictions can be of little use.

(For what it’s worth, I believe that it is this specific combination of predictability and unpredictability that convinces people that Voynichese is a language, whereas real languages only tend to work like that in a few very specific ways, e.g. “q” almost always being followed by “u”.)

Trying to account for this property ultimately led me to conclude that the Voynich Manuscript in part uses “verbose cipher”, i.e. employing pairs or groups of letters to encipher single letters in a misleading way. For example, the Voynichese letter-pair “or” gets repeated immediately after itself a number of times, with the best known examples being on page f15v:-

or-or-oro-r

Do any real-life languages do this? I don’t think so, but that remains a matter of opinion.

The Voynich Manuscript has a large number of extra curious properties that I believe point to other tricksy mechanisms (e.g. in-page transposition of some sort, if you please), but my suspicion right now (based only on having a nose around it) is that Oliver may have found these unnecessarily abstruse to build a cipher around.

No: I think what’s going on in The Book Of Woo will turn out to be largely based around verbose cipher – specifically a combination of paired letters. Having said that, the big problem with a simple verbose cipher is that it is, well, as verbose as it sounds: and so to make it not bloat as badly as a Microsoft application, it needs some compression tricks to be used at the same time.

In the case of the Voynich Manuscript, I suspect that verbose cipher gets combined with the kind of scribal abbreviation in use during the 15th century. Similarly, because the overall word-length isn’t too extreme for The Book of Woo, I suspect (a) that certain letters used at the start or end of words will encipher prefixes or suffixes, somewhat like a kind of shorthand; and (b) that it’s more likely to be English than German. 😉 It may well also be that certain letter pairs themselves encipher common letter pairs or even letter triples (such as “the”): these are the kinds of tricks I’d expect to see here being used to disguise the structure.

And yet… words seem to be words (i.e. it’s an aristocrat cryptogram rather than a patristocrat cryptogram), so it’s very much as if he wants to help us, not hinder us. So even though it looks a bit tricky at first glance, maybe it will all fall out nicely in the end. We shall see, hopefully before issue #1000! 😉

A nice-looking cipher mystery just arrived, courtesy of mystery man/woman “Vir”: his/her Vick Industries website has a 14-page art-house cipher that will no doubt intrigue a whole load of people. To my eye, it’s a sort of cross between the Codex Seraphinianus’ fussily over-evolved script and the desktop publishing zing of “Isaac”‘s CARET labs cipher.

Structurally, the text is written in columns of composite individual units, where most of the shapes are apparently formed of a palette of smaller shapes (thus resembling transcriptions such as Korean). Yet many composite units are repeated multiple times: I’ve only really checked the first page so far, and it looks as though half the composite shapes appear once, half appear multiple times. Here’s a version of page 1 I’ve added a little colour to, so as to make the repetitions a little more visible:-

vick-industries-page-1-coloured-small

This is, I guess, meant to resemble a formal design language, where the overriding design conceit seems to be to transform each word of the plaintext into a composite unit. Which may or may not actually be true, of course, but that’s what it resembles. As such, it seems that if you can transcribe it sensibly, you stand a pretty good chance of reading it. Maybe that’s the joke, who knows?

It’s not really my kind of thing (I’m more of an historian than a tinkery design crypto guy), but if it’s yours, go for it. Perhaps the mysterious “Vir” will emerge from the Vick Industries shadows before very long… we shall see!

Petra & Frank Mehler emailed me a nice photo of a curious plate they recently encountered in a restaurant in Rome:

SAMSUNG

Yes, it is indeed Luigi Serafini‘s signature in the corner:

SAMSUNG

It turns out that Luigi Serafini is (when in Rome) a regular visitor to the Armando al Pantheon restaurant, Salita de Crescenzi 31, Rome, which is where the Mehlers saw the plate. The menu explains…

Nostro Amico da Sempre, Luigi Serafini, ha creato per noi il logo del Ristorante. Per chi si domandasse il significato del disegno vi do l’interpretazione che ci e’ stata data da lui : Il foro del Pantheon, compie attraverso il suo linguaggio, una metamorfosi trasformandosi in Uovo. Ora, simbolicamente, per Luigi Serafini, l’Uovo e’ Appunto l’inizio del tutto… quindi essendo alla fine del disegno… L’Uovo Primordiale e’ al Centro dell’Universo e porta con se Il Pantheon e di conseguenza « Armando al Pantheon » !!!

Translating freely for flow and fun (rather than for strict accuracy), I think this means:-

Our restaurant’s logo was designed for us by our Eternal Friend Luigi Serafini. For those who would ask us its meaning, feel free to interpret the explanation that he gave: that the hole [at the top of the Pantheon’s dome] undergoes a linguistic metamorphosis into an egg. Now symbolically, according to Serafini, the Egg is eggsactly the beginning of everything… so placing it at the end of the design shifts the Primordial Egg to the Center of the Universe, thereby bringing with it the Pantheon and consequently the “Armando al Pantheon”!

Indeed, if you stand in the middle of the Pantheon in Rome (which is, unsurprisingly, only a few steps away from the restaurant) and look right up, do you not see a Cosmic Fried Egg hidden in plain sight in the cupola overhead?

480px-Pantheon_cupola

And now for something completely different… “The Voynich Experiment”, a free online Voynich-themed computer game by Marwane [Wan] Kalam-Alami, a software engineer from Lyon, France. Use the cursor keys to roll the ball around, and occasionally press [Enter] to “evolve” your ball, and then press [down]+[left] or [down]+[right] to rotate the evolved entity, solving puzzles as you go.

OK, OK, I admit that the history makes no real sense (dated 1642, and signed “A.K.”, presumably Athanasius Kircher a full 13 years before he had the real thing sent to him), and all that’s really taken from the Voynich is a blanked out scan of f67v and f68r (plus a few bits of Voynichese floating around in the intro), but… give the guy a break, it’s a bit of fun. *sigh*

Enjoy! 🙂

Ulrik Heltoft’s “The Voynich Botanical Studies and The Origin of Specimen 52v” artworks will be at Andersen’s Contemporary art gallery in Copenhagen over the next few weeks (20.04.2013 to 11.05.2013), and I have to say that they’re really rather… eerie. But in a nice way!

Essentially, what Heltoft and his collaborator Miljohn Ruperto have done is recreate (after a fashion) a number of the Voynich Manuscript’s curious plant drawings. Their manipulated images were then fixed as large silver gelatin prints, lifting the Voynich’s unpindownable unworldliness (and indeed impracticability) to curious new heights. Having said that, I’m not sure what “The Origin of Specimen 52v” specifically refers to (apart from f52v itself, of course). Perhaps it will become obvious as photos of the installation start to appear on the Internet.

Anyway, here’s their 52r plant side by side with the Voynich’s f52r plant:

f52r-comparison-small

If you want to see some more, here’s a link to four pretty high-resolution Voynich Botanical Studies images.

But why did they do it? Well, according to this site

Ulrik Heltoft (b. 1973) graduated from The Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in 1999 and from Yale University in 2001. He is an associate professor of photography at The Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts and has had solo exhibitions at Kirkhoff Contemporary Art, Raucci e Santamaria in Naples and Wilfried Lentz in Rotterdam. His works have also been shown at places such as Participants Inc., New Museum, Anthology Film Archive in New York, and the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles. Heltoft’s artistic activity is characterized by formally rigorous, technically perfect works in which minimal displacements suggest that “something else” is at play.

So basically, Heltoft is a Yale-graduated photography professor specializing in a rigorous-looking, false-historic aesthetic. Really, could there ever have been a flicker of a doubt in anyone’s mind that one day he’d ‘do’ the Voynich? Hmmm… maybe next he’ll do pages from its balneo section, but where every ‘nymph’ is the same model. Or perhaps instead he’ll move on to the Vinland Map? It’s always nice to have a Plan B, right? 😉

For over a year, I’ve been collecting links to modern versions of the Mona Lisa made of weird materials – leaves, make-up, chocolate, meat, Lego, coffee, toast, pasta, buttons, jelly beans, mushrooms, Rubik’s cubes, dominoes, ketchup… all sorts of odd stuff.

As such lists go, it’s not even remotely complete (in fact, there were about twenty ASCII Art versions, so I just chose the one that impressed me most). But the fact that I’ve collected over forty different types of Mona Lisa would surely have Leonardo da Vinci squirming in his wormy Renaissance repos. If that were possible. Which it’s not. (Hopefully.)

Just so you know, my favourite (so far) is #23 Buttona Lisa (below), a 3d version covered in buttons, on permanent display at the Hankyu Shopping Centre in Kobe, Japan. Please let me know if you find anything better!

buttona-lisa

Sometimes I see stuff sold on eBay or elsewhere that namechecks the Voynich Manuscript in a very superficial way, like a fine sprinkling of mystery pixie dust to elevate the ordinary into the not-quite-so-ordinary. But pretty much all I’ve seen before pales when compared with this handmade jewellery sales pages patter for (I swear it’s true, I couldn’t make it up) “NECKLACE of naiad nymph erotic magick sex slave voodoo multi lovers rare djinn“.

What kind of rare genius could construct such a wondrous-sounding sequence of allusive words? Well…

“I am one of the very few. As the last single translator of the Voynich manuscript, I am the only one who knows secret norse runic knowledge, and I have made a rare & amazing strange items to share. I come from a secret sect in Iceland of Ásatrúarfélagið Alchemists of The Exalted Most High Ones of Ásatrú. As a Most High One, I have influenced world leaders and everyday people alike. My power comes from secret sources long put aside by the waning influence of Germanic Norse Paganism and forgotten by modern man. After my teacher died and I am not teaching any further, my death shall mean my secrets will die with me. Knowledge of how to translate the Voynich manuscript with runes is something no other priest, witch, or other energy worker has. Most have no idea of its meaning whatsoever. My talents are more ancient than any other source on heaven, on earth, or in the secret hollow earth cities run by the reptilians.”

Sooooo… what do you get for your 19USD or so? Apparently “two bone beads around a coyote tooth on a hemp necklace“, which yields “an item of ultimate power and wisdom, made with runic wisdom. In this case I have harnessed the powers of the Voynich Runic Writings to achieve amazingly powerful positive results“.

What strikes me most from this is that at some point in the last couple of years, the “mysterious Voynich Manuscript” cultural meme seems to have broken out of its ‘hoodoo history’ micro-cage and gone diffusely viral into the world at large. I doubt if this was triggered by anything so rational or sensible as the Voynich Centenary Conference, or even by the whole Voynich centenary itself: rather, it seems to have “just grow’d”, one twisted little step at a time.

So in many ways I suspect the whole idea of the Voynich Manuscript now finds itself at a kind of Koyaanisqatsi-like paradoxical tipping point: a physical object that remains too incredible to be properly researched, yet which is well-known enough to find itself retrospectively attached to intangible / ethereal / insubstantial subjects that lack external credibility. In our culture at large, is it too credible or too incredible? Really, I just don’t know, sorry. 🙁

OK, let me try a Cipher Mysteries-themed mind-reading trick on you…

Perhaps you feel in the mood for a mooch around an art exhibition where all the pictures are inspired by the Voynich Manuscript, but you’d prefer to stay at home than catch a plane all the way to Ireland?

Well, if my mind-reading skills are on the mark, I can surely do no better than suggest the one-man show by Damien Flood called “The Theatre of the World” currently on display at Ormston House in Limerick, running until 27th October 2012. The blurb runs:-

“Through researching the Voynich Manuscript, Flood became interested in how people throughout the ages have created their own worlds in order to understand the one around them. The artist similarly uses paint to create a new place to situate the viewer and to give them a feeling of journeying through a new or parallel world that mixes micro and macro, the botanical and the astrological, and inner and outer consciousness. The paintings in Theatre of the World ask to be studied, for the viewer to take their time and allow each individual mystery to unfurl.

This body of work was developed for the the Italian-inspired architecture of Ormston House and with the building’s illustrious history of functions and uses in mind: a ‘cabinet of curiosities’ to question technological acceleration and our insatiable appetite for data consumption. These modern landscapes are not cryptic messages however, the ideas are explicitly present on the canvas and the implications beyond the frame highlight a loosening grip on our understanding of the physical world and our rejection of intuitive perception in favour of dubious scientific absolutism. The paintings are conversations (figurative and abstract) on the dichotomy between our understanding of the civilised world versus our understanding of nature, between fact and fiction and the slippages in-between.”

But wait! The neat bit is that there’s a four-minute video on YouTube taken walking around Flood’s exhibition. Hence the part about not catching a plane. Enjoy (virtually)!

Every once in a while, I get accosted by something delightfully tangential to the while cipher mysteries arena. A nice example of this recently popped up as part of the University of Western Australia’s Second Life (a well-known online virtual world) presence, where a certain ‘Hypatia Pickens’ built herself a Voynich-themed area, with odd-looking plants and nymphs sliding down a curious slide into the cool water.

Naturally, that’s not the real story here, not when the question I immediately wanted answered was “who is Hypatia Pickens, exactly?

It turns out Hypatia’s real name is Sarah Higley; she teaches medieval literature at the University of Rochester; she wrote a 2007 book on Hildegard of Bingen’s Lingua Ignota (which I wonder whether my friend Philip Neal has yet seen); she has created a conlang (constructed language) called Teonaht; and she created the (largely satirical) Star Trek character Reginald Barclay.

All of which probably serves to explain her interest in the Voynich Manuscript, which is surely – if you believe all you read on the Internet – nothing less than a medieval constructed lingua ignota invented by aliens… specifically Ferengi (simply because the world is itself a lovable medieval Arabic term meaning Franks). 🙂

I really don’t know how I managed not to pick up on it, but last year a group of German artists put on a VMs-themed installation at the Grauerhof in Aschersleben entitled “DAS VOYNICH MANUSKRIPT: eine künstlersicht auf ein rätsel” (an artist’s view of a mystery), featuring pieces by Rüdiger Giebler, Moritz Götze, Olaf Holzapfel, Alicja Kwade, Daniel Lergon / Gregory Carlock, Via Lewandowsky, Johannes Nagel, Jorinde Voigt, and Ralf Ziervogel. If you go to the site, clicking on any of the pictures launches a pop-up 32-slide slideshow tour of the exhibition, which is rather nice.

I particularly like Lergon and Carlock’s ‘book object’, with its spurious botany and implausible fold-out page arrangement. But perhaps the standout contemporary art piece of the show was by Berlin-based Via Lewandowsky (1963-) called “Okay“, formed of the Voynichese letters spelling ‘okay’ (in EVA) in striking green neon.

If you want to see ‘Okay’ for yourself, it’s currently on display at the Galerie Karin Sachs in Munich until the 3rd March 2011 as part of a show of Lewandowsky’s work called “Archäologie der Ähnlichkeit“.