This essay is an examination of the influence of Ralph Waldo Emerson on the development of American art through his essays, specifically his writings on nature and self-reliance. Through emphasizing individual potential, Emerson also influenced the visual arts. Instead of following the required formula in Europe of attending certain ateliers and seeking prestigious patronage, American artists, namely the Luminists and the Ashcan School, sought to address the issues of their day and portray life as it existed around them. Each of these groups formed during periods of time when American society was shifting and the American identity was evolving. Through addressing the issues at hand, artists formed an American aesthetic separate from the traditional methodologies in Europe, in turn, contributing to a national identity. After the Civil War, the United States underwent considerable change as different areas of the nation redefined themselves in conjunction to new laws and shifts in social structure. For the Luminists, the writings of Emerson concerning nature were especially applicable during this time since most people in the United States lived in rural circumstances and still struggled to define a national art separate from European tradition. Emerson focused on nature's ability to uplift and inspire mankind, bringing them closer to the Divine and America's unique and untamed nature was one aspect that separated it from Europe. The Luminists focused on their surrounding natural environment, portraying the connection between man and nature. During the Progressive Age, Robert Henri followed Emerson's instruction to illustrate life as it existed for him in the early twentieth century. By this time, most people had moved to the cities in search of employment and everyone was crammed into small tenements. Henri taught his art students to value and illustrate life in all of its gritty reality. In this way, he followed Emerson to communicate beauty through an honest interpretation of life. Although diverse in their techniques, the Luminists and Robert Henri both utilized the ideas of Emerson to help define an American aesthetic.

The existence of a metaphoric female standing in for poetic style was only plainly discussed in a paper from 1987 concerned with Roman elegiac poetry. This figure is given the title of scripta puella or written woman, since her existence depends solely on the writings of an author. These females often appear to have basis in reality; however there is insufficient evidence to allow them to cross out of the realm of fantasy. The term scripta puella in poetry refers to a perfected poetic form, one the author prefers over all others, and a human form creates the illusion of a mistress. Using this form, usually described in basic terms which create an outline of a woman, a poet easily expresses his inclination towards specific poetic styles and elements. While other scholars recognize the scripta puella in elegiac poetry, little research has been done into other genres. For this thesis, the focus is on the genre called Latin verse satire. The genre contains four recognized authors: Lucilius, Horace, Persius, and Juvenal. In order to prove her existence, each collection of satires is examined in its original language and analyzed with heavy emphasis on recognizing key phrases and attributes of scriptae puellae. Her appearances can be difficult to determine, as some examples will show, yet the existence of scriptae puellae enrich modern understanding of ancient texts. In addition to the four authors, articles and books dealing with women, satire, and women in satire are consulted to aid in explanation and support. With this body of proof, scriptae puellae are shown to exist within the Latin verse satirists' texts; they act as a link between the four authors and as a link to Greek poetry, which has been considered a possible predecessor for satire. This knowledge allows for a better explanation of satire as a genre and opens up the possibilities for further study in other genres which contain women of various forms.

The Greek tragedies of Classical Athens frequently portray mothers in central roles, but despite this significance, the relationship between mother and child has long been overshadowed in secondary scholarship by the relationship between husband and wife. This study demonstrates the direct relationship between a female character's active possession of her children and her autonomy, or her ability to act in her own interests, in three plays of Euripides: Electra, Medea, and Ion. In general, women who internalize their ownership of their children, expressed on stage both in word and action, have greater influence over the men around them and the power to enact the revenge they desire. Once their ends have been achieved, however, these tragic mothers often devalue their relationship with their children, leading to a decrease in power that restores the supremacy of the patriarchal order. Within this broad framework, Euripides achieves different results by adjusting aspects of this cycle of maternal empowerment. The Electra follows this outline just as its predecessor the Oresteia does; however, Euripides invents a fictional child for Electra, extending the concept of maternal empowerment to Electra and defining Clytemnestra as both mother and grandmother. In Medea, Euripides demonstrates the significance of Medea's children to her power, and Medea does devalue her children enough to destroy them, the source of her influence, but she is not punished and cannot be reabsorbed into the patriarchal structure, which leaves an audience with a heightened sense of anxiety at the threat of maternal empowerment. Finally, the Ion initially demonstrates a cycle similar to Medea: empowered by her ownership of the child she believes she has lost, Creusa attempts revenge against the young man who threatens her but is in fact her lost son. In the end, however, Creusa uses her empowerment to achieve recognition between mother and son and voluntarily relinquishes her ownership, resulting in a peaceful reabsorption into patriarchal society and a happy ending. Despite the variations on this cycle presented by Euripides, one theme persists: motherhood was both empowering and threatening, and it required strict male control to avoid tragic results. Thus as scholars of tragedy, we cannot ignore the mother-child relationship, not only for its power to illuminate the feminine, but also for its capacity to reveal the vulnerabilities of the masculine.

Many histories of modern Japanese literature see the "completion" of the modern vernacular style in the writings of Shiga Naoya (1883--1971), Mushakōji Saneatsu (1885--1976) and Takamura Kōtarō (1883--1956). Why and how this critical-historical perception of stylistic normalcy arose and still continues is better understood, I propose, through a close reading of key texts that identifies instances and patterns of creative manipulation of-as opposed to mere determination by or complicity with-certain philosophical, social, and historical discourses.How this creative manipulation plays out varies in prose and poetry and from text to text. In Mushakōji's Omedetaki hito (1911; The Simpleton), temporal and generic transitions establish a doubled discourse of sincerity that normalizes the genbun itchi prose into the background. In Shiga's An’ya kōro (1921--37; A Dark Night's Passing), certain syntactical and lexical innovations construct a new and rigid model of intuitive interiority. Takamura's Dōtei (1914; The Journey) reverses, to its own literary historical advantage, gendered discourses on the Japanese language and Japanese literary history.

The purpose of this study is to explore how memory functions ecologically in the poetry of Tomas Tranströmer. The term ecology is useful because of its connotative associations with the natural world as well as its broader definition of being a network of relationships as they function within and relate to their environment. Throughout his oeuvre, Tranströmer positions memory as being an external presence with which he interacts primarily because he honors it as a living being and he feels a poetic responsibility to it. As such, he grapples with the challenges of representation, particularly the limitations of language. Ultimately, he employs an ecopoetic strategy in honoring his duty to memory and creating poems that are themselves ecological milieux in which such memories can live on.

The Iliad and Heike monogatari are each seen as seminal pieces of literature in Greek and Japanese culture respectively. Both works depict famous wars from which subsequent generations of warriors, poets, and other artists in each society drew their inspiration for their own modes of conduct and creation. While neither work is emphatically pro-war, both were used extensively by the warrior classes of both cultures to reinforce warrior culture and to inculcate proper battlefield behavior. In spite of this, however, both tales contain a strong undercurrent of anti-war sentiment which contrasts sharply with their traditionally seen roles of being tales about warriors and their glorious deeds. This thesis examines these works and details the presence of anti-war sentiment while also highlighting its emergence to greater prominence in later works found within the genres of Greek tragedy and nō theater. Ultimately, the Iliad and Heike monogatari act as foundational sources of anti-war sentiment for the later dramatic works, which poets of both cultures used to decry the woeful effects of war on both combatants and the innocent. By examining the presence of anti-war sentiment in two cultures that share surprising similarities but are widely separated by geography and chronology, we are presented with both a broader and deeper understanding of the effects of warfare on society and of the historical responses of citizen populations to events in war.

This thesis examines the relationship between art and fashion in order to first, justify fashion as an art form, and second, demonstrate the applicability of critical theory to the study of fashion through an examination of Alexander McQueen's Spring/Summer 2006 menswear collection, titled “Killa,” presented in Milan, Italy, in 2005. “Killa,” loosely based on William Golding's 1954 novel Lord of the Flies and its 1963 film adaptation, opens with crisp, white, tailored suits worn by neatly groomed models. Steadily throughout the collection, these tailored suits are exchanged for wide-legged, cropped shorts, and tanks in browns and beiges. By the end, models appear on the runway with painted faces, wild hair, and highly patterned, dark-colored body suits and billowing capes. While “Killa” appears to demonstrate the narrative regression from civilized to savage demonstrated in Golding's novel, this thesis argues that McQueen's collection actually strives to promote a more positive ennobling of the Other. A careful study of his life and career suggests that McQueen perceived himself as the Other within the community in which he worked and lived. Frustrated by frequent misinterpretations of his work and false accusations of his character, “Killa” becomes McQueen's ultimate confrontation with Otherness. Positioning the Other at the climax of an elite fashion show, represented by Mesoamerican designs depicted through the highest quality tailoring, McQueen's Other is respected and revered, rather than looked down upon. In this way, McQueen challenges the perception of his own character within the fashion community. Ultimately this thesis seeks to demonstrate the necessity of the application of critical theory to objects of fashion. As demonstrated through the case study of McQueen's 2006 menswear collection, this academic consideration has the potential to reveal important overlooked meanings within the art of fashion. This suggests that McQueen's work, as well as the work of other contemporary fashion designers, merits more thoughtful and careful interpretation in the study of postmodern art history.

In recent years, the concept of monstrosity has received renewed attention by literary critics. Much of this criticism has focused on horror texts and other texts that depict supernatural monsters. However, the way that monster theory explores the connection between specific cultures and their monsters illuminates not only our understanding of horror texts, but also our understanding of any significant cultural artwork. Applying monster theory to non-horror texts is a useful and productive way to more fully understand the cultural fears of a society. One text that is particularly fruitful to explore in this context is John Steinbeck’s 1952 novel, East of Eden. The personification of evil in the text is one of the most memorable monsters in 20th century American literature—Cathy Ames Trask. Described by the narrator as a monster from birth, Cathy haunts the text. She rejects any and all attempts to force her to behave in socially acceptable ways. Cathy refuses to abide by the roles that mid-century American culture assigned to women, particularly the roles of wife and mother. Feminist theorists have often examined Cathy’s character in this context, although many of them emphasize Steinbeck’s personal misogyny. While Steinbeck’s personal fears have clearly formed the basis of Cathy’s character, the concept of the monster extends beyond idiosyncratic fears. Monster theory, through its emphasis on the particular cultural moment of the monster, allows for a broader understanding of cultural fears. Although the description of Cathy in the text connects her to a long tradition of female monsters, including Lilith and the Siren, Steinbeck’s characterization of the monstrous woman focuses on specific mid-century American cultural fears. The most significant of these cultural fears are those of emasculation and the potential flexibility of gender roles. These fears have often been associated with the feminine monster, but they became a crucial part of postwar American cultural discourse. The character of Cathy Trask, while exhibiting many traits that have been assigned to female monsters during the course of Western history, is essentially a 20th century American monster, one who encapsulates the fears of midcentury American men faced with rapidly changing gender roles and boundaries. The creation of such a horrifyingly monstrous woman, one that continues to haunt the reader even after her eventual de-monstration, testifies to the intense cultural anxiety about gender roles, particularly in the context of the heterosexual nuclear family, present in post-World War II America. This anxiety is dealt with in the figure of the monster Cathy, who represents forbidden desires and is then punished for those desires; her eventual demise reinforces the culturally patriarchal social structure and serves as a warning against transgressive gender behavior.

Because of the mainly scholarly studies of Milton’s works, and the many questions that have yet to be resolved, an annotated bibliography of Milton’s classicism is indispensable in enabling one to survey the ground that has been covered and to clarify the issues further. The observation that John M. Steadman makes about Paradise Lost also applies to Milton’s entire canon. The items in this bibliography are organized in five categories: (1) epic, (2) tragedy, (3) prose, (4) minor poetry, and (5) general criticism. Listings within these categories are alphabetical.

The Moors have been regarded by Graeco-Roman authors with a mixture of ambivalence and admiration. From the highly positive characterizations of Moorish giants like Masinissa (238-148 BCE) whose achievements the Romans lauded, to figures like Jugurtha (fl. 118-104 BCE) and Gildo (fl. 396-398 CE) whose hostilities with Rome earned them both scorn and ridicule, Moorish figures loom large in the pages of ancient historians from Herodotus to Procopius. This thesis examines the shifting portrayal of Moors from their earliest literary depictions in Greek literary sources to the late Roman literary portrayals of the sixth century CE. It argues that certain stereotypes regarding Moors, a problematic term that will be discussed in greater detail, continued relatively unchanged in Graeco-Roman authors, and that this was highly dependent on genre, political context, and intertextuality. It further argues that negative vs. positive portrayals of Moors can be understood better via an examination of the context of an author on an individual level, where political background was key to an historian’s evaluation of a certain Moorish figure or of Moors in general.