EDITORIAL

In the 12th century, the French philosopher Bernard de Chartres used a powerful metaphor to describe humanity as dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants, referring to the idea of discovering by building on previous discoveries.  

Today, I believe discovery has shifted; it’s no longer about uncovering something entirely new but about inventing and reinventing through language and creativity. With the rise of advanced technologies—AI, AI-powered cameras, digital photography, etc.—our relationship with the past, with art, and with writing, whether creative or not, has become boundless. In this context, “boundless” captures both the infinite possibilities and how technology stretches and challenges the limits of traditional boundaries. These tools allow us to readdress issues differently and uniquely, building—agreeing and disagreeing—on the ideas of centuries-old philosophers, critics, and artists.

Yet despite this, some institutions of higher learning have expressed concern and even suggested the restriction or banning of some of these technologies. I was recently told by someone that technology corrupts reality, citing the hyper-realism of today’s high-definition photography, where what we see seems enhanced beyond what is real. Another academic implied that using AI compromises the integrity of research. The MLA, like other style manuals, now has guidelines for acknowledging AI use in educational work. In the humanities, at least in my experience, some scholars feel a need to stress that their research is untouched by AI, as if to affirm its purity, untainted by technology or outside influence or ideas.

But can we truly imagine modern philosophy without Plato, Aristotle, or Wittgenstein? Even when today’s philosophers may agree or not with these thinkers, they are still reacting to their ideas explicitly or implicitly. Can we think of post-structuralist art—whether in photography, sculpture, or painting—without recognizing Picasso or Braque’s influence? Can anyone claim to have written a truly original work of literature that carries no echoes of Homer? And could we ever have imagined universal knowledge without Gutenberg’s printing press?

In “The Essays”, Francis Bacon reflects on Solomon’s wisdom, noting, “There is no new thing upon the earth”. He reminds us that all knowledge is a reworking of what has come before. Plato imagined knowledge as recollection, while Solomon suggested that novelty is merely a form of forgetting. Bacon’s insight resonates with our contemporary world, where the vastness of information and the speed of technological progress might leave us feeling that nothing is new. But rather than discouraging us, this idea invites us to continuously redescribe what we know, adding layers of meaning with every iteration.

With this in mind, it is a pleasure to introduce the work of our featured artist, Wanda Koop (Canada). Wanda’s art, much like the technologies that shape our modern reality, challenges us to see beyond what is visible, pushing the boundaries of perception. We also feature the work of artists Ana Ivanovska (Macedonia), Stephen Mead (USA), and Flora Mae Nguyen (France), each of whom, in their own way, contributes to the ongoing dialogue between past, present, and the boundless possibilities of invention.

Jorge R. G. Sagastume 

Editor