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From the University of North Carolina at Asheville's 1971 yearbook. For an explanation of how this scanned page captures a genuine spirit, see that remarkable book The Ghost in the [Scanning] Machine, which makes good on its promises of real ghosts, actual hauntings, and necromancy by proxy.
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From a ghost's autobiography: The Story of My Life by the late Colonel Meadows Taylor, 1878. For an explanation of how this scanned page captures a genuine spirit, see that remarkable book The Ghost in the [Scanning] Machine, which makes good on its promises of real ghosts, actual hauntings, and necromancy by proxy.
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"Casting out the evil spirits," plus the same scene in the ghostly realm (courtesy of the scanning process at Google Books), from The Rappers, Or, The Mysteries, Fallacies, and Absurdities of Spirit-rapping, Table-tipping, and Entrancement by A Searcher After Truth, 1854.
This recalls our repository of ghostly images that were never meant to be, entitled The Ghost in the [Scanning] Machine. The specters were conjured unwittingly, through a mechanical process of book scanning. Their portraits technically do not exist, except within this context. To explain: in old books, frontispieces were typically protected by a sheet of translucent tissue paper. So thorough is the Google Books scanning process that even this page of tissue paper is scanned. The figure in the plate beneath the tissue—"beyond the veil,” as it were—emerges as from a foggy otherworld. The frontispieces were never meant to be seen this way. Their wraithlike manifestations have been artificially "fixed" in time by the scanning process. In essence, timeless phantasms of dead writers have been captured and bound into a new age. And so we call this phenomenon "unforeseen art," as it constitutes an aesthetic expression without original intent. Just as artists often credit their inspiration to a Muse, the accidental art herein is in the domain of real ghosts; every author here has departed to the Other Side. We call it "necromancy by proxy," as the scanning machine serves as our "spirit medium" or shaman.
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"Photography is inherently occult, a medium contacting the dead without contagion." —Gus Blaisdell (via Mitch Cullen)
This recalls our repository of ghostly images that were never meant to be, entitled The Ghost in the [Scanning] Machine. The specters were conjured unwittingly, through a mechanical process of book scanning. Their portraits technically do not exist, except within this context. To explain: in old books, frontispieces were typically protected by a sheet of translucent tissue paper. So thorough is the Google Books scanning process that even this page of tissue paper is scanned. The figure in the plate beneath the tissue—"beyond the veil,” as it were—emerges as from a foggy otherworld. The frontispieces were never meant to be seen this way. Their wraithlike manifestations have been artificially "fixed" in time by the scanning process. In essence, timeless phantasms of dead writers have been captured and bound into a new age. And so we call this phenomenon "unforeseen art," as it constitutes an aesthetic expression without original intent. Just as artists often credit their inspiration to a Muse, the accidental art herein is in the domain of real ghosts; every author here has departed to the Other Side. We call it "necromancy by proxy," as the scanning machine serves as our "spirit medium" or shaman.
Pictured below, a page from our book featuring a portrait from The Confessions of a Beachcomber. Note that the fisherman’s ghostly spear pierces the veil to make contact with the material realm.
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