Logwood Writing Inks: History, Production, Forensics, and Use

In the 16th century, the Spanish brought logwood from Mexico to Europe. Its extract was used for textile dyeing. The French introduced the logwood tree to Western Hispaniola, which became Haiti in 1804. Around 1880, Haiti exported most of its logwood to France. In 1847, Runge introduced the black chrome-logwood ink as an alternative for iron-gall ink, because the latter attacked the steel writing nibs. The most important constituents of logwood are hematoxylin and hematein. Due to the profitable import conditions from Haiti, chrome-logwood ink became the cheapest and most commonly used black writing ink in France. This could explain why Vincent van Gogh, during his French period, used it for writing and drawing and why most of the French postcards from the first half of the 20th century, studied in this publication, were written with chrome-logwood ink, while most of the Dutch postcards were written with an iron gall ink.

Looking for the missing link in the evolution of black inks

In the transition from carbon to iron-gall inks, the two documents from the Egyptian Museum and Papyrus Collection in Berlin with shelfmarks P 13500 and P 13501 discussed in this work present an important case. Their inks appear brownish, although they date back to the fourth and third century BCE, when carbon inks are believed to have been commonly if not exclusively used. Using imaging micro-X-ray fluorescence and infrared reflectography, we discovered that the inks in both documents contain a significant amount of copper in addition to carbon. Comparing the extant recipes for black writing inks and the experimental evidence, we suggest that these inks are a transition between the pure carbon and the iron-gall inks. Such inks may have been quite common before the production of iron-gall ink was clearly understood and established.

Where the Racial State Meets the Black Atlantic: Reflections on Winfried Siemerling’s The Black Atlantic Reconsidered

Winfried Siemerling’s The Black Atlantic Reconsidered: Black Canadian Writing, Cultural History, and the Presence of the Historical Past, to put it mildly, is an impressive piece of scholarship that will stand as one of the definitive works on the histories of Black writing in Canada for the foreseeable future. In his preface, Siemerling states that he embarked upon this undertaking when he learned, to his surprise (one is reminded here, incidentally, of Katherine McKittrick’s injunction that Black Canadian Studies is always constituted as a “surprise”), that there had been little written about Black contemporary writing aside from a few of the comprehensive and encyclopedic works that George Elliot Clarke published in the early to mid-1990s. It is this pioneering work upon which Siemerling builds. He starts with a discussion of “Modernity and Canadian Time-Spaces of the Black Atlantic” in his first chapter and introduction, where he lays out the analytical and conceptual approach of the work. Part 1, “Early Testimony and the Black Canadian Nineteenth Century,” includes chapters titled “Slavery and Early Black Canadian Writing” and “The Black Canadian Nineteenth Century.” Part 2, “The Presence of the Past,” highlights chapters that expand on the themes of “Slavery, the Black Canadian Nineteenth Century, and Caribbean Contexts in Contemporary Black Canadian Writing” and move into a discussion of what he calls “Other Black Canadas” and “Coda: Other Canadas, Other Americas, the Black Atlantic Reconsidered.”

The National, the Transnational, and the Diasporic: Black Canadian Writing and the Logic of Literary History

This response takes as its starting point the twofold agenda Winfried Siemerling pursues in The Black Atlantic Reconsidered: his systematic outline of a history of Black writing in Canada from the eighteenth century to the present and his goal to fill a geographical gap in Paul Gilroy’s influential concept of the Black Atlantic, thereby also offering a reconsideration of this concept. I suggest that, although Siemerling is clearly successful with regard to the first aspect, he is only partially so with regard to the second, with the logic of a nation-based literary history to some extent countering the agenda of the constitutive transnationality of the Black Atlantic. This tension between the two agendas, I suggest, results in crucial questions concerning the complex relationship among the national, the transnational, and the diasporic in the specific logic of literary histories.

Foundations: Defoe and Equiano

This chapter discusses Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe and Olaudah Equiano’s The Interesting Narrative as foundational texts of emergent enlightenment thinking about the subject in relation to modernity and slavery. The aesthetics of their entangled foundational tonality is characterised by self-reflexive descriptions of psychological interiority, a retrospective temporal framework, religious conversion, and a belief in the emerging modern market economy. While both self-made men develop an emotive claim to Britishness, the representation of familial feelings remains stifled. In contrast to insular adventurer Robinson Crusoe, former slave Olaudah Equiano’s life story is much more strongly reliant on bonds to establish commonality. Moreover, their constructions of masculinity are spatially distinct. While Equiano’s “oceanic” identity is mostly formed in movement on the sea, Crusoe’s “insular” version seems to fend off any form of Otherness. For Equiano claiming familiarity is instrumental in the process of being recognised as a citizen, for Crusoe, the flight from familial obligations is part of the narrative appeal of his adventure. Thus, this chapter argues that while Black writing is often dismissed as imitative, it is in fact the marginalised perspective of the ex-slave that can be considered foundational of a more realistic description of intersubjectivity in English writing.