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The harmony of the Apollonian and Dionysian aesthetics in Thomas Wolfe and in the visual responses of Douglas W. Gorsline and Harvey Harris.

[H]e tried to speak, to get into a... phrase, all the pain, the beauty, and the wonder of their lives....

Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel (500)

While periodization is always precarious, Modernism strikes one as being, in the words of J. A. Cuddon, an especially "comprehensive but vague term" (515). Finding a common creative concern among Modernism's philosophically and aesthetically disparate literary movements can seem a daunting intellectual exercise. However, in many ways these diverse schools were unified in their essential desire to discover, as H. H. Arnason asserted of the Modern visual artists, "not only ... new forms, a new plastic reality, but also ... a new content and new principles of synthesis" (67). In both the visual and literary arts, this pursuit of a new mode of creative expression gave rise to various aesthetics that blended Dionysian and Apollonian artistic tendencies. In The Birth of Tragedy Out of the Spirit of Music (1872), Friedrich Nietzsche developed the antinomy to distinguish differing artists' embrace of either "reason ... [and] culture" or "instinct ... and primitive nature" (Cuddon 49). Employing the figures of Apollo and Dionysus to embody these respective artistic impulses of intellectual order and physical delight or suffering, Nietzsche maintained that every artist, often unconsciously, exhibits a stylistic and thematic tendency toward one inclination or the other. Whereas Apollonian artists are largely bent on producing symmetrically "understandable and beautiful world[s]" (Preminger 41), the poet in whom the Dionysian impulse is dominant thrives in absolute physicality, searching out the "blind irrationality, pain, and suffering in the world which gives rise to the Dionysian dance of orgiastic worship" (41). Even the most cursory survey of the various movements within Modernism reveals a clear division between those schools that favored either the Apollonian or the Dionysian aesthetic. Nietzsche noted, however, that it was indeed possible to find a balance between the two, combining both creative forces to communicate more fully a human experience of complexities. The Modernist novelist Thomas Wolfe accomplished this feat to a degree that was rarely matched by his contemporaries. In his thematic concerns, his formal innovations, and his vision of life, the self, and society, Wolfe was able to explore the darker subjects, the moral and stylistic freedoms of the Dionysian aesthetic while maintaining an essentially Apollonian appreciation for order and the beautiful. This creative triumph must have made the individual projects of Douglas W. Gorsline and Harvey Harris, who both created strikingly beautiful sets of illustrations for Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel, all the more challenging. In creating visual accompaniments to Wolfe's novel that demonstrated their original artistic vision and yet maintained harmony with Wolfe's imagination, Gorsline and Harris set about to visually transmit, in markedly different ways, Wolfe's synthesis of Dionysian and Apollonian aesthetics.

As prelude to examination of Wolfe's, Gorsline's, and Harris's interaction with Apollonian and Dionysian aesthetics, it is fruitful to consider how these tendencies operated in Modernism more broadly. The French poet and theorist Aime Cesaire characterized the dawning of literary modernity in Paris as follows: "1850.--The revenge of Dionysus upon Apollo.... The great leap into the poetic void" (233). Undoubtedly, in emphasizing this date, Cesaire is asserting that the emergence of the art of the French Symbolists, such as Baudelaire and Rimbaud, served as a transformational literary moment in which "Poetry ceased to be a game.... ceased to be an occupation.... Poetry became an adventure. The most beautiful human adventure. At the end of the road: clairvoyance and knowledge" (233). While previous literary schools of the burlesque and carnal had existed throughout history, the ascension of the Symbolists and their accumulation of a minor but avidly loyal reading audience marked the preliminary rise of a popular and immensely influential literature of Decadence. In the modern world's mad pursuit to create and digest new materials, to search out and grasp subjects and themes that accurately portrayed their people's lives, their concerns, and their often dark realities, the Dionysian productions of the Symbolists gratified the desire for a literature completely inimical to Europe's poetic tradition. In a manner that anticipated Freud's conceptualization of the id, Rimbaud and his Symbolist contemporaries perceived the presence of an irrational and largely perverse component in the soul of man, an aspect of human personality that had previously remained largely unexplored and unmeasured. Seeking to expand mankind's base of knowledge by actively bringing the entire soul into an observed accord, the Symbolists suggested that modern authors must accept the duty of discovering, through personal experimentation, the "language ... of the soul, for the soul, containing everything, smells, sounds, colours; thought latching on to thought and pulling" (Rimbaud 148). Viewing the intellect's love of order and rationality as hindering this achievement, the Symbolists aimed to experience a "derangement of the senses" in which the very order and rationality of the senses was broken, leaving only illogical physicality. Thus Symbolist poetry becomes an apparatus through which humanity gains an awareness of those immoral impulses present in the recesses of their souls.

That Cesaire would see French Symbolism as a primary literary predecessor of Modernism seems at first entirely proper because Modernism continued to champion the Symbolists' call for a truly new art that reflected the entirety of the modern world's character. Cesaire's declaration that Symbolism's efforts to establish the supremacy of Decadent art gave birth to Modernism, however, must be vigorously questioned, for it intimates that the general character of Modernism was essentially Dionysian. While this assessment was perhaps true within Cesaire's own school of Surrealism, there were also several literary figures, such as T. S. Eliot, who sought to reestablish the aesthetically and classically beautiful within their artistic productions. While individuals like Ezra Pound and Eliot owed much to the Symbolists in formulating the need for a poetry that effectively dealt with modern circumstances and that remained grounded in contemporary subjects, they tempered the Dionysian perverseness of French Symbolist poetry with an Apollonian appreciation of culture and intellect. Eliot and Pound celebrated the fact that poetry now had at its disposal a plethora of new subjects and themes due to the Symbolist movement and recognized it as an important development in the shaping of a contemporary art form. Eliot and Pound nonetheless asserted a decisive separation from Symbolism through careful restoration of Apollonian ideals within their art. Perhaps seeking a reintegration of the beautiful within their works, Eliot and Pound sought to capture urbanized life both accurately and attractively. Significant to their achievement were Modernism's deep respect for traditions and their own accompanying reverence for intellectual order. It is vital to note that Eliot's conviction that true artists must fully assimilate the lessons of tradition within their art has far greater importance in light of the Dionysian/Apollonian distinction. Tradition does more than merely influence the verse forms and quantity of allusions within the Apollonian artist's work, for, as Preminger suggests, " [tradition] refers, in one sense, not to literature, but to culture and society ... religious and moral authority" (859). Whereas Dionysian Symbolists and Modernists argued that true knowledge is gained through an awareness of those more depraved impulses that have dominated the human soul from prehistoric times, the Apollonian artist Eliot suggested that such an exploration leads to "the wrong place," where "[one only] discovers the perverse" ("Tradition" 267). Instead, Eliot offered a path to enlightenment that followed in the vein of Matthew Arnold's declaration that literature and culture offer "the best which has been thought and said" (viii). Eliot seemed to challenge Rimbaud's assertion that one must have an intimate knowledge of one's own darkness in order to write poetry. Rather, Eliot believed that a careful cultivation of the intellect grants one a supreme understanding of everything, without the personal deprivation of an ethical bearing and cultured taste.

That Thomas Wolfe was influenced by the antagonism that existed between the Apollonian and Dionysian aesthetics during the Modernist period becomes quickly apparent upon review of his major works. Wolfe's fiction undoubtedly benefited from an absorption of the Dionysian creative vision, allowing him to fully confront the at-times dark desires and motives that reside within all individual psyches. The emerging sexual consciousness of Eugene Gant is treated as a normal and in fact necessary part of the protagonist's coming of age. Eugene's encounter with Ella Corpening, his visits to Lily Jones and the other women of Exeter, and his several fleeting erotic entanglements with various female boarders at Dixieland are all portrayed with absolute candor by Wolfe in Look Homeward, Angel. Through an honest engagement of these less-than-purely moral yearnings, Wolfe overlays the archetypal scene of the hero's loss of innocence with an awe-inspiring complexity, illuminating fully the various emotional contradictions that consume Eugene in the aftermath of his sexual initiation. Wolfe aimed to reveal in his fiction the "strange buried life" (485) that human beings attempt to hide from one another and even from themselves. The young artist Eugene Gant is described as possessing a "vast strange hunger for life ... [a belief] in the infinite rich variety," which enabled him to equally imagine that "[a]t the moment of passing any house ... someone therein might be at the gate of death, lovers might lie twisted in hot embrace, murder might be doing" (485). The juxtaposition of these three actions of dramatically different natures--of an event of tragedy, an event of love, and an event of malice--creates a cognitive dissonance within the reader and demonstrates the completeness of Wolfe's artistic vision. Thomas Wolfe seems to observe all happenings and events, integrating everything without censorship into his art in the hope of capturing through the described particular some universal truth of experience.

As the Dionysian exploration of the Symbolists had previously demonstrated, this universal truth of humanity must inevitably include facets of internal darkness, which Wolfe describes so hypnotically in Look Homeward, Angel as that "mad devil's hunger all men have in them, which lusts for darkness, the wind, and incalculable speed" (51). Furthermore, Wolfe's willingness to confront the more sinister aspects of the human mind also allows him to tackle the ethical failings of society at large. Throughout Look Homeward, Angel, many short stories, and especially You Can't Go Home Again, Wolfe creatively presents and critiques his contemporary society's racism, anti-Semitism, sexism, and economic inequality. Though Wolfe's protagonists, who are understood as fictional reflections of their creator, at times give voice to prejudice, this fact should be understood within the context of Wolfe's complete creative exposure of the malevolent, illogical, and spiteful forces that color all human beings' understanding of existence. Perhaps rather than understanding Wolfe's attribution of biased sentiments to Eugene Gant and George Webber as an outright endorsement of these prejudices--an endorsement that would seem to be contradicted by the many progressive passages in Wolfe's fiction--we should instead grasp this practice as a part of Wolfe's artistic program to illuminate how persistently even a socially minded ego will fall back on hurtful prejudices to explain external reality. Wolfe's confrontation with the Dionysian impulses latent in the individual and in humanity at large has to be seen, however, as more closely paralleling that of Eliot in "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" rather than that of Rimbaud in A Season in Hell. As the epigraph to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" conveys, Eliot followed Rimbaud's example in exploring the inner emotional, psychic Hell of humanity, but he importantly tempered the darkness of the subject with a rhetorical order and poetic beauty. Even the darkest passages in Thomas Wolfe's works like wise contain an essential descriptive beauty: when delivering papers in "Niggertown," Eugene describes the sounds of this place, with its "hived darkness" (Look 248), as the "low jungle cadences of dusk.... [rising] in an exhausting and unceasing frenzy ... in their wild jungle wail of sin and love and death" (245). The images and ideas of this passage shock us, while at the same time we are moved by its terrifying, awful splendor; the passage's beauty is of a sinister character, but it is beautiful nonetheless.

Notably, two of Wolfe's letters, composed within four days of each other, suggest that the author himself conceived of his own aesthetic as an interaction of competing creative forces. In a letter to Hamilton Basso on 22 July 1937, Wolfe voices a bitter rebuke of the contemporary writer's market that "is still cabin'd and confined to certain more or less conventional and restricted forms and mediums.... [which are part of the] 'accepted' way. ... the lazy, convenient or temporarily commercial one" (631). Channeling a Dionysian aesthetic sentiment that recalls Rimbaud's denunciation of tradition and literary decorum, Wolfe rejects those conventions
   that so many academic people consider as masterly and final
   definitions derived from the primeval source of all things
   beautiful or handed Apollo-wise from Mount Olympus, [but which] are
   really worn out already, will work no more, are already dead and
   stale as hell. (632)


Wolfe maintains that truly "new creations" (632) must be freed from both stylistic and thematic strictures, from the "neat definitions in convenient forms" that are antithetical to the "essential exploration" (633) of art. In many ways nothing short of a rousing call for the liberation of the Dionysian force, this letter communicates the aesthetic philosophy that made Wolfe willing to " [lead] us through the darkest and most convoluted passages of his consciousness; [tell] what is most secret and most personal without feeling shame, without embellishing, without concealing" (Smrchek 27). And yet, as his 26 July 1937 letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald suggests, Wolfe was also aware that truly great art nonetheless required a tempering of the Dionysian aesthetic: "I want to be a better artist. I want to be a more selective artist. I want to be a more restrained artist. I want to use such talent as I have, control such forces as I may own, direct such energy as I may use more cleanly, more surely and to a better purpose" (644). In this push and pull between a liberating and a restraining aesthetic, between a rejection of artificial conventions and an acceptance of guiding aesthetic principles, Wolfe presents himself as an artist aspiring toward a dialectic accommodation between the Apollonian and Dionysian artistic visions. In achieving this in his works, Wolfe formulates a personal aesthetic that is an innovative synthesis of the Dionysian liberation of the Symbolists and the steadfast belief in the beautiful that defined Eliot's more conservative brand of Modernism.

Timothy A. Riggs valuably discerned that, " [a] s memoir, as drama, as social commentary and satire, Look Homeward, Angel lends itself well to illustration, but there is another side to the book that is less amenable." Wolfe's "flow of words and sentences that convey his vision in torrential meditations" can create passages that "defy literal illustration" (17). (1) The power of Wolfe's art and his ability to balance the Dionysian and Apollonian creative tendencies seem to be so thoroughly intertwined with his unique rhetorical style that an exact visual parallel is hard to imagine. As Riggs maintains, the "visual equivalent [of such passages] is not realism or expressionism, but symbolism and surrealism" (17). These latter visual schools are essentially Dionysian in character, largely lacking the traditional conventions and forms that Apollonian artists understood as granting order and beauty. It thus seems fitting that both Douglas Gorsline and Harvey Harris set out to visually capture Wolfe's more harmonized aesthetic through less radically avant-garde styles. Indeed, it is here vital to note that the aesthetics governing both sets of illustrations reflect the respective artists' interpretations of Wolfe's creative voice and not merely Gorsline's and Harris's personal stylistic tendencies. The calls for illustrations to which Gorsline and Harris responded demanded a careful fidelity to the aesthetics of the source material. Among the guidelines of the Limited Editions Club competition for which Harris produced his illustrations was the condition that "the illustrations must bear evidence of a literary understanding; so that, if divorced from the book, they might still convey the mood of the author to the reader" (qtd. in McCullagh 11). Similarly, it is all but certain that Wolfe's editor and mentor, Maxwell Perkins, would have enforced a similar criterion upon his son-in-law, Douglas Gorsline. Edited by Janice McCullagh, The Look Homeward, Angel Illustrations of Harvey Harris (2011) grants us the occasion to examine how these artists each uniquely attempted to translate Wolfe's authorial vision and likewise sought to balance Apollonian and Dionysian aesthetics.

Much of the harmony Wolfe created between these artistic inclinations resides in his "prose-poems of lyrical rhapsody" (Donald xv), but it appears that the respective illustrations of Gorsline and Harris do in fact tend to incline toward one aesthetic or the other. Although, as McCullagh writes, "One imagines that each artist defined his task similarly.... [t]o interpret Wolfe's words with integrity ... [and to maintain an] accord with the author's worldview" (11), the responses that Gorsline and Harris had to Wolfe's novel seem at first glance strikingly dissimilar. For the genre of illustration, Gorsline's style is essentially realistic, the vast majority of depicted scenes being placed within a carefully constructed, largely rational pictorial space. Furthermore, these spaces reveal Gorsline's diligent attention to remaining relatively accurate to the described setting of Wolfe's novel. This attention and Gorsline's awareness of the historical developments in fashion serve to place the illustrated scenes within an exact historical period. Gorsline's depictions possess the general character of photographs in that they capture single fleeting moments of action and freeze them in time. The image of Ben's Fight with Steve is a striking example of the almost "snapshot" effect of some of these illustrations, as the physical actions of Eugene, Steve, and Ben--and even the falling of the chair--are petrified mid-movement. In developing a rational pictorial plane, in using complex perspectives when representing characters, and in his attention to time, Gorsline creates illustrations that emphasize the particular. These decisions not only advance the general realism of his illustrations, but also grant him the opportunity to create visually beautiful spaces and scenes.

Importantly, the beauty of Gorsline's illustrations is derived as much from their physical construction and depicted view as from the emotion and mood they convey. For instance, while we grasp and appreciate the inner conflict communicated in Gant Returning from California, a significant portion of viewers' enjoyment of this image resides in the conventional aesthetic beauty and order that Gorsline incorporates into his art. The illustration's careful balance of shadow and light along the diagonal axis and the corresponding patterns within and without the train car infuse the work with an almost palpable equilibrium. The similarity of the swirl patterning in the clouds and on the train seat, as well as the analogous cross-hatching of the rain and Gant's jacket, both reinforce the essential unity and paralleled symmetry of the illustration. Without knowledge of Wolfe's text and this scene's reference, it is unlikely that viewers would appreciate the emotional meaning of this--and, in fact, many of Gorsline's illustrations--as much as they would their visual charm. And yet, focused examination of the characters' subtle and poignantly communicative expressions reveals Gorsline's attention to the emotional complexities of Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel and testifies to his desire to incorporate also a Dionysian aesthetic in his productions. However, Gorsline almost always endows the at-times rough world described by Thomas Wolfe with such a level of beauty and order as to obscure the Dionysian aesthetic.

While Gorsline's attempts to translate visually Wolfe's aesthetic thus emphasize the Apollonian beauty and order of the text, Harvey Harris's illustrations utilize, as Janice McCullagh observes, "an expressionist approach insistently informed by Wolfe's vivid and powerful evocation of strong visions and intense feelings" (10). Whereas Gorsline represents events and individuals within a rational and particular setting, Harris's illustrations tend to dramatically de-emphasize setting, at times even to abstraction. Rather, Harris foregrounds a figure or event against an emotionally expressive background of colors, lines, and patterns. Furthermore, the colors that he chose for certain illustrations make little rational sense and are rather meant to intensify the depicted sensation. In Eugene with Bread, for instance, Harris completely undermines the potential naturalism of the illustration by assuming a unique perspective that diagonally tilts the composition and by using a red watercolor wash.

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Although neither stylistic choice makes logical sense, the peculiar perspective communicates Eugene's sense of entrapment while the red wash aptly captures the blind hostility and brutishness of his pursuers. The isolated placement of Eugene toward the lower left-hand corner of the composition makes his schoolmates seem to be advancing from higher ground toward the ensnared and vulnerable boy. These expressive stylistic practices allow the illustration to become an image of Eugene's fear and anxiety.

By and large discarding a mimetic visual language, Harris does not appear to be overly interested in directly and minutely transmitting the physical descriptions of Wolfe's novel. What we instead see in Harris is a visualization of Wolfe's description of how the scene is experienced by the characters of the work. In achieving this end, Harris uses a more unadorned visual style dominated by "fluid line and expressive shading" as he "balance[s] simplified compositions with careful detail" (McCullagh 23). What the viewer gains from such illustrations as W. O. Gant Enraged, Ben's Fight with Steve, or A Drunken Eugene are not the details of the depicted scene or even a realistic visual translation of it; rather, these illustrations are permeated with and defined by their representation of an emotional state. In examining two of Harris's treatments of Eugene's father, Portrait of W. O. Gant and Gant as an Old Man, the viewer is shown the emotional and psychic descent of the subject as much as his physical decline. Whereas Gorsline's portrayals of Gant are infused with an essential beauty deriving from the compositions' symmetry and order, Harris's Gant as an Old Man strips away all pretence of aestheticism in order to more fully examine the extent of Gant's ruin. The chaos and darkness of the abstract background throws the exaggerated emaciation and near skull-like profile of Gant into even greater relief. Through a rejection of all aestheticizing techniques, Harris crafts a haunting and disturbing portrait of mortality and utter degradation. Though some of Harris's illustrations are indeed visually attractive, predominantly the innate beauty of his illustrations is consumed by a too liberated Dionysian pursuit to startle the viewer with images of passion, violence, and disconcerting emotions.

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We can only guess as to whether Harvey Harris was correct in surmising that Maxwell Perkins was opposed to his illustrations because Perkins wanted something in a "prettier style" (qtd. in McCullagh 18). If such was really Perkins's criterion, clearly Gorsline's subsequently produced illustrations were of a more obviously beautiful style. We are indeed fortunate, however, that Harris's rejected drawings survived and came into the possession of the North Carolina Collection at Chapel Hill. (2) Although Gorsline usually operated within the Apollonian realm and Harris leaned toward Dionysian aesthetics, there are certain illustrations by each of them that achieve equilibrium between these tendencies. Gorsline's Gant in His Shop maintains an Apollonian beauty and order but is augmented and amplified by an emotional engagement with W.O.'s artistic longing to construct something imbued with a spiritual beauty, something that he hoped would transcend the gross reality of the imperfect material world. The scene is made tragic, however, by the fact that W.O. is shown as irrecoverably in the darkness, as separated and remote from the creative inspiration for which he longs. This at once beautiful and poignant composition captures that W.O.'s yearnings for creative expression were all frustrated and that he "never found it.... never learned to carve an angel's head" (Wolfe, Look 6) and died an embittered and lost man. Similarly, Gorsline's Coker Sits at Ben's Bedside combines a more expressionist quality--namely in the subtle identification of Coker's profile with that of a skull--that allows the work to communicate fully the despair and suffering of Ben's illness. Harvey Harris, likewise, achieves a harmony of the Apollonian and Dionysian tendencies in the illustration Eugene's Vision, in which the loneliness and despair that Harris captures elsewhere is now presented through a stunningly beautiful image that, in its simple yet striking view of the vastly extending row of pine trees, incorporates the Apollonian ideals of order, symmetry, and restrained expression. In these illustrations we find the full realization of Gorsline's and Harris's efforts to re-create visually Thomas Wolfe's aesthetic. Like so much of Wolfe's art, these images express a variety of human emotion with such depth and breathtaking precision while remaining grounded in the intrinsically beautiful. In finding a balance of the Apollonian and Dionysian aesthetics, they discover a beauty that is simultaneously of the intellect and the heart.

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... left alone to sleep within a shuttered room, with the thick sunlight printed in bars upon the floor, unfathomable loneliness and sadness crept through him: he saw his life down the solemn vista of a forest aisle, and he knew he would always be the sad one: caged in that little round of skull, imprisoned in that beating and most secret heart, his life must always walk down lonely passages.

--Look Homeward, Angel (32)

Works Cited

Anthony, Robert G., Jr. "The Harvey Harris Illustrations for Look Homeward, Angel." Thomas Wolfe Review32.1-2 (2008): 91-93. Print.

Anthony, Robert G., Jr., and Timothy A. Riggs eds. Look Homeward: Douglas Gorsline Illustrates Thomas Wolfe. Chapel Hill: North Carolina Collection, U of North Carolina, 1998. Print.

Arnason, H. H. History of Modern Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture. 1968. Englewood: Prentice, 1969. Print.

Arnold, Matthew. Culture and Anarchy: An Essay in Political and Social Criticism. London: Smith, 1869. Google Books. Web. 15 Nov 2012.

Cesaire, Aime. "Poetry and Knowledge." 1945. Trans. A. James Arnold. Kwasny 231-43.

Cuddon, J. A. The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory. 4th ed. New York: Penguin, 1999. Print.

Donald, David Herbert. Look Homeward: A Life of Thomas Wolfe. 1987. Cambridge: Harvard UP 2002. Print.

Eliot, T. S. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." 1915. The Complete Poems and Plays: 1909-1950.1952. New York: Harcourt, 1971. 3-7. Print.

--. "Tradition and the Individual Talent." 1919. Kwasny 260-68.

Kwasny, Melissa, ed. Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry, 1800-1950. Middletown: Wesleyan UP, 2004. Print.

McCullagh, Janice, ed. The Look Homeward, Angel Illustrations of Harvey Harris. Chapel Hill: Thomas Wolfe Society and North Carolina Collection, U of North Carolina, 2011. Print.

Preminger, Alex, ed. Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics. 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton UP 1974. Print.

Riggs, Timothy A. "Facing the Page: Douglas Gorsline in Look Homeward, Angel." Anthony and Riggs 8-24. Print.

--. "Pictures for Words: Douglas Gorsline's Illustrations for Look Homeward, Angel." North Carolina Literary Review 12 (2003): 80-83. Print.

Rimbaud, Arthur. "The 'Voyant' Letter to Paul Demeny." 1871. Kwasny 145-50.

Smrchek, M. N. "Wolfe's Early Aesthetic and Look Homeward, Angel." 1971. Trans. Margaret Winchell. Thomas Wolfe Review 5.1 (1981): 24-35. Print.

Wolfe, Thomas. The Letters of Thomas Wolfe. Ed. Elizabeth Nowell. New York: Scribner's, 1956. Print.

--. Look Homeward, Angel: A Story of the Buried Life. 1929. New York: Scribner, 2006. Print.

--. "To Hamilton Basso." 22 July 1937. Wolfe, Letters 630-34.

--. "To Scott Fitzgerald." 26 July 1937. Wolfe, Letters 641-45.

Notes

(1.) Also see Riggs, "Pictures."

(2.) For information about the University of North Carolina's acquisition of the Harvey Harris illustrations, see Anthony.

Editors' Note: The Look Homeward, Angel illustrations by both Douglas W. Gorsline (1913-85) and Harvey Harris (1915-99) are part of the North Carolina Collection at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Unfortunately, none of the Gorsline illustrations, the rights to which are now controlled by Simon & Schuster, were made available for reproduction with this article in the Thomas Wolfe Review.

In addition to the 1947 Scribner's illustrated edition of Look Homeward, Angel, selected Gorsline illustrations appear in Look Homeward: Douglas Gorsline Illustrates Thomas Wolfe (edited by Robert G. Anthony Jr. and Timothy A. Riggs) and The Look Homeward, Angel Illustrations of Harvey Harris (edited by Janice McCullagh), both of which are cited above; as well as Anthony's "Illustrating the Angel: Douglas W. Gorsline" (Thomas Wolfe Review 22.1 [1998]: 54-66) and Aldo P Magi's Portraits of a Novelist: Douglas Gorsline and Thomas Wolfe (Thomas Wolfe Society, 1995).
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Date:Jan 1, 2012
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