When you untangle a comma, you often unravel a legend

In the 15th century, historian Flavio Biondo reported that the compass was invented by the people of Amalfi. Later, the philologist Giambattista Pio picked up the story and wrote it down like this: “Amalphi in Campania veteris magnetis usus inventus, a Flavio traditur,” which translates to: The use of the compass was invented in Amalfi, Campania, as reported by Flavio.

But then, something unexpected happened: someone shifted the comma. The new version—”Amalphi in Campania veteris magnetis usus inventus a Flavio, traditur”—completely altered the meaning: The use of the compass was invented in Amalfi, Campania, by Flavio, as reported.

This subtle mix-up passed through the ages, and just like that, Flavio Gioia, the “inventor” of the compass, was born. Interestingly, “Gioia” is a toponym, pointing to an imaginary birthplace in Apulia.

It’s wild how one misplaced comma can spin a whole new tale! While Gioia’s story is fun, the compass itself goes way back. It was first used in China during the Han dynasty (around 206 BC), but not for navigation—rather, for divination. It didn’t get turned into a navigation tool until the Song dynasty in the 11th century. And as for Europe and the Islamic world? They didn’t catch on until around 1190. So, the compass’s history is a bit more complex than a single legend.

The Science of Light: From White to RGB

When a beam of white light, composed of three converging monochromatic sources—red, green, and blue—passes through a slit, it is decomposed into its constituent colors. This results in three distinct vertical bands—red, green, and blue—which are projected onto a screen.

If an obstacle, such as a vertical wooden rod, is placed before the slit, it partially blocks some of the light components. As a result, three vertical stripes—cyan, magenta, and yellow—appear at the location of the slit. These colors are the complements of the original light sources and emerge through subtractive color mixing:

  • Cyan appears where red is blocked.
  • Magenta appears where green is blocked.
  • Yellow appears where blue is blocked.

By moving the rod, one can control which complementary color passes through the slit. This complementary color then cancels out its corresponding primary color behind the slit. For example, if magenta passes through, it eliminates green from the screen.

The concept of additive color mixing can be confusing for those who aren’t familiar with artistic or design principles. This is because people are generally more accustomed to subtractive color mixing, which is how colors blend in the physical world, such as when mixing pigments like paints or inks. In contrast, the additive color model describes how light produces color.

The Soul of Books: A Journey from Bark to Pages

I must have been born in a library, for the love I hold for books is immeasurable. A book awakens all the senses in me: the visual pleasure, the tactile warmth, the scent of cinnamon or vanilla from old pages, the soft rustle of turning leaves, and even the taste… To me, no digital book will ever replace the presence of a real one, with its soul and essence.

But the journey from tablet to scroll, to codex, and finally to the modern book spans millennia. The codex, the direct ancestor of today’s book, introduced a revolutionary format—pages bound along one edge—laying the foundation for how we read and store knowledge today.

Books, as we recognize them, became widespread during the Middle Ages, largely due to Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press. However, the codex itself dates back much further. It was made of sheets folded multiple times, often twice, to form a bifolio. These bifolia were sewn together into gatherings, allowing for binding and, when needed, rebinding. The most common structure consisted of four bifolia—eight sheets, totaling sixteen pages—known in Latin as quaternio. This term later gave rise to quaderno in Italian, cahier in French, and quire in English. Interestingly, the Latin word codex originally meant a block of wood, a nod to the materials once used for writing.

Even the word book has deep roots—its Old English form, bōc, likely stems from the Germanic root bōk-, meaning beech. This isn’t just a linguistic coincidence; early writings may have been carved into beech wood. In Slavic languages, the word for “letter,” буква (bukva), shares this origin. In Russian, Serbian, and Macedonian, букварь (bukvar’) or буквар (bukvar) refers to a child’s first reading textbook.

Similarly, the Latin word liber, which gave rise to libro in Italian and livre in French, originally meant “bark,” reinforcing the deep connection between books and trees. The Greek root biblio, is believed to be derived from βύβλος (búblos), meaning “papyrus,” named after the ancient Phoenician city of Byblos, a major hub of the papyrus trade.

From carved wood and tree bark to bound pages and printed volumes, books have always been deeply rooted in nature—both in language and in form.

Culture: Incompatible with Universality

While technology may expand globally and permeate every facet of our daily lives, CULTURE, with a capital C, will inevitably remain rooted in specific places and times. It cannot be universal because its true essence lies precisely in that uniqueness. The idea of an “open culture” is a fallacy, as such a concept would erase its own meaning. While some cultures may appear inclusive, this openness always occurs within the boundaries of their own identity, preserving their core values and norms. A striking example of this is the ancient Romans, who, rather than resisting, embraced and integrated elements from civilizations radically different from their own into their laws, religion, language, cuisine, and daily life. This process reflects their remarkable ability to absorb and enrich their culture without betraying it—a true feat.

Another aspect of culture is that, like us, it too is destined to die. At some point in history, it fades away gradually or disappears abruptly. Furthermore, it is impossible to measure a culture from within, much like the eye that can see but cannot look at itself. It is through the lens of an outside perspective—another culture—that we can evaluate it. It is difficult to have an objective view of one’s own culture without reducing it to superficialities. Confronting cultures without falling into the trap of simplistic analogies or discrimination is no easy task, but it is achievable if we abandon preconceived notions.

The darker side of culture lies in its expansionism, which can easily slip into hegemony. It’s important to emphasize that hegemony is not the same as universality. While expansionism imposes and overwhelms, universality reflects shared values that connect cultures without erasing their uniqueness. Throughout history, people have embraced dominant cultures—sometimes abandoning their own—either because they were fashionable or aligned with the spirit of the times. But where do we draw the line between natural influence and disguised colonialism? Consider the global reach of American pop culture, shaping tastes and behaviors worldwide, while some traditions persist, resisting this wave of uniformity.

Multiculturalism, often touted as an ideal by well-meaning elites, obscures a fundamental truth: a culture, like a living organism, inevitably seeks to assert itself at the expense of others. It feeds, grows, and struggles to find its place in an ever-moving, chaotic world.

Invisible Artworks: The Absurdity of Nothingness in Contemporary Art?

MU, Kanji

In the world of contemporary art, the concept of invisibility has become an imaginative playground for creativity. Here’s a glimpse into some intriguing—and often humorous or haunting—examples of invisible artworks that challenge our perceptions and redefine what art can be.

Notable Invisible Artworks:

1. Yves Klein – Zone de Sensibilité Picturale Immatérielle’ (1959)

   Klein sold ownership of empty space, allowing collectors to own nothingness itself. A bold move that encourages us to consider the value of absence!

2. Marinus Boezem – Show V: Immateriële ruimte (1965)

    This piece features “air doors” made of cold and warm air currents, inviting viewers to experience immateriality.

3. Michael Asher – Vertical Column of Accelerated Air (1966) 

    Asher composed a work entirely of drafts of pressurized air, encouraging participants to engage through sensation rather than sight.

4. Art & Language – Air-Conditioning Show’ (1967)

   This installation featured an empty room with two air conditioning units, emphasizing that the true art lies in the feelings and conversations it inspires. Talk about a cool concept!

5. James Lee Byars – The Ghost of James Lee Byars (1969)

   Byars designed a pitch-black room, inviting visitors to contemplate emptiness. It’s like stepping into a fridge at midnight—dark and full of existential questions.

6. Robert Barry – Telepathic Piece’ (1969)

   Barry’s artwork consisted of thoughts communicated mentally to visitors. A reminder that sometimes art is all about connection—without any visual representation!

7. Andy Warhol – Invisible Sculpture (1985) *

   Warhol’s intangible sculpture, presented atop a white pedestal, exemplifies the idea that art can exist without form, challenging us to think beyond traditional boundaries.

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Sphere of Influence of Our Ego

Imperialism is not limited to a group or a country. In fact, each of us is, in essence, an imperialist, striving—whether subtly or forcefully, skillfully or clumsily—to expand his / her sphere of influence in the world. The methods we employ vary from person to person: some are conciliators, while others are more combative.
When I was 25, I empirically explored how these spheres of influence, which I termed ECFs, interacted between two individuals. To make the concept understandable, I employed the metaphor of colors. This brief is discussed in my book, “Le Voile d’Iris” (French edition, see image below). Perhaps one day, I will revisit this study to develop it into something more rigorous.

The ‘Sassy Sparkler’ Sea Worm: Nature’s Deep-Sea Light Show

While exploring the Chile Margin along South America’s coastline, researchers made a dazzling discovery with their robotic explorer, ROV SuBastian: the iridescent ‘sassy sparkler‘ sea worm.

At first glance, this deep-sea polychaete worm appears unremarkable with its bristly body. But as it moves, its shimmering bristles reflect light, creating a pink iridescent glow. The secret lies in nanoscale structures within the bristles that act like prisms, scattering light to produce shifting colors depending on the angle of view.

This optical illusion not only mesmerizes but also serves practical purposes. The worm’s changing hues help with camouflage, communication, and UV protection in the deep ocean.

Polychaetes like the ‘sassy sparkler’ play essential roles in marine ecosystems, thriving in extreme environments like hydrothermal vents and contributing to nutrient cycling in ocean depths.

Apparition: The Face That Transforms

I’m pleased to announce that my work Apparition will be featured in the 6th volume of Taschen’s Library of Esoterica, set to release in early 2025.

This portrait, created by combining photographs of 50 different human faces, presents a ghostly image that endlessly shifts its features as you look at it. The effect is driven by the neural adaptation phenomenon, similar to Troxler fading, along with the brain’s face-recognition circuits, which complete the image.

You can explore this piece and more with prints available from my online gallery.

For a deeper dive, visit Spirit Worlds here to explore art, rituals, and myths from hidden realms.

Van Gogh and the Path to Abstraction

In the painting La Maison Blanche, la Nuit (1890), Vincent van Gogh’s vivid brushstrokes, layered over background hues, give the artwork a surreal dimension. His late works are marked by these expressive strokes, almost like vectors of the soul, stirring and expanding the space within his compositions.

La Maison Blanche, la Nuit, 1890, Vincent van Gogh, in the Hermitage Museum.

Had Van Gogh shifted toward a greater focus on minimalist expression rather than detailed representation, his work might have evolved in a more abstract direction. This evolution could have shared similarities with pioneers like Kandinsky and Mondrian, particularly in their use of pure form and color. However, Van Gogh’s distinct style would have likely led him toward a more organic abstraction, where his vibrant palette could have become swirling, interlacing forms—creating a dynamic sense of color and movement that might have hinted at the future development of Abstract Expressionism.