Inkblot establishes a hybrid institution which performs a range of functions. It is certainly a school, an extensive playground and a therapeutic facility in which the boys are helped to develop self-reliance, paralleling the worn-down appliances repaired by Mr Inkblot. The path to repair leads through a revolution in consciousness, a unique metanoia. The transformation is triggered by dialogue between the student and the teacher. In this sense, Mr Inkblot’s school is reminiscent of Plato’s Academy combined with a cheder or, considering the age of the boys, with a yeshiva.
As a result, the typical cheder rebbe comes across as merely a poor caricature of what a real teacher and guide should be, which is what Mr Inkblot professes and is considered to be. His exceptionality does not solely reside in his magical abilities, obvious attributes of the fairy-tale protagonist as they are, but first and foremost in his approach to learning and studying. Mr Inkblot becomes a second father to his boys,141 improving their minds and opening them up to dialogue.
Unlike in the cheder, his methods primarily appeal to the unfettered imagination of children. Instead of calligraphy lessons, he offers classes in inkblotgraphy. To grasp the meaning of his actions, we should examine the contrast between an inkblot and a calligraphed character. The teacher repudiates repetition, imitation and replication of the ancient pattern, instead prioritising activeness, dynamism, creation and naming. Like images in Rorschach tests, the shapes of inkblots compel the Academy students to be actively involved, enthusiastic and committed to constructing stories, all of which would be impossible without the ←63 | 64→work of their imaginations. A spot of ink on paper is submitted to imaginative interpretations, which presupposes creative freedom.
In Hebrew, the verb “to study” is symbolised by the letter lamed ‒ ל. As the only one of the twenty two characters in the alphabet, lamed extends above the line of script. Therefore, to study means to rise, to go beyond oneself and to open up to infinity. This process is usually dynamic; rather than wordless, silent and associated with the asceticism of individual study, it is captured in a metaphorical image of a battlefield. It is enveloped in motion and noise, takes place in the company of other learners and above all involves the presence of the master. Knowledge is acquired in this way not only by students at batei midrash, but also by the pupils of Mr Inkblot’s Academy.
The transgression of boundaries in emulation of the letter lamed is supposed to develop an open mind, to foster a creative imagination and to unblock intellectual capacities. Steeped in such an educational milieu, the individual “becomes,” and the teaching process never ends. Mr Inkblot insists that interpretation is not a given but a possibility which sets thinking in motion. Thus the task that Mr Inkblot devises for himself is to put thoughts in constant motion.
Stretching beyond the ruling, the letter lamed points to what forms the bedrock of studying. Studying is a continual “ascent towards” which defies any ultimate definition. It ensues from a creative refusal to answer the question lying at the core of the human being: Adam – “what?”. To answer it would mean the end of the quest and the achievement of stabilisation, which opposes the human calling to self-fulfilment through “being on the way.”
Therefore Mr Inkblot activates the imagination of his students in the belief that the teacher-student encounter is grounded in trust and an “honest” flow of knowledge. Such a relationship is well conveyed by a tale about Zeno of Citium and the meaning of his gestures. The philosopher would show his open hand and say “A visual appearance is like this.” Then, folding his fingers a little, he would explain: “An act of assent is like this.” Afterwards, he would clench his hand into a fist and say that this was what comprehension was like. Finally he would firmly press his left hand around his right hand and “say that such was knowledge, which was within the power of nobody save the wise man.”142 However, the ←64 | 65→Talmudic master critically reinterprets this tale. He starts by releasing the right fist from the left hand. Then he slowly extends his fingers, shows his hand resembling an open flower and comments that this is how intelligence blooms. In the following step, the open hand with stretched-out fingers expresses an invitation to encounter. This is the hand of the wise man who knows that dialogue is the greatest of gifts. Finally, his hands cross at wrists, forming wings of a bird. This bird ascends…143
This is the way in which Mr Inkblot opens up his students’ minds because he knows that only such an intellect mirrors transcendence, while restraints imposed on it produce stabilisation, which halts free thinking, a guarantee of life. Mr Inkblot seems to rely on characteristic yeshiva methods as by surprising his students he forces them to constantly reflect on the world. Specifically, his approach is reminiscent of pilpul, a method in which Biblical contradictions are studied and reconciled by recourse to various works of Talmudic literature.
Such a “flow” of ideas is vividly emblematised in the tablets of stone (luchot avanim). Eben means “stone.” The word can be parsed into av and ben, which denote respectively “father” and “son.” So what actually takes place in “stone” is a symbolic encounter of two generations. Given this, it is not in the static matter of stone but in the process of intergenerational transmission that the value of the stone-engraved record of the commandments itself lies.144
At the heart of studying lies an encounter with another human being (the face) and an exchange of thoughts in which a new meaning originates, briefly khidush.145 For this reason, studying is a loving exchange, and the Book transfigures into the master.146
Alojzy’s arrival marks the beginning of the Academy’s end. Certainly neither the boy nor his guardian Filip seeks an encounter or the self-development it is supposed to entail, let alone the values inherent in dialogue and communication. As a matter of fact, Jewish tradition envisages and even encourages a student’s rebellion against his teacher. However Alojzy is patently not the representation of the Other with whom it is possible to cohabit provided that the word appears in the space between him and those who are “at home.” The function of the word ←65 | 66→is to bind and to ensure the continuity of transmission. It is not a coincidence that “one” and “other” in Hebrew “bear the secret of peaceable existence: One is echad (aleph, chet, dalet). Other is acher (aleph, chet, resh). Both words […] start with the letter aleph. As the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, aleph has the numeric value of one. In Rabbinic tradition, aleph is associated with God, who is one. […] Neither I nor you can usurp the right to superiority because both one and other, all of us receive life from God.”147
This is not the only similarity of the two words. Importantly, they share the same root, which means a “brother,” which is itself etymologically related to the verb “to sew.”148 This produces a vivid image of brotherhood which is founded on sewing together – bringing people closer and building strong communal bonds.
Alojzy’s natural element, however, is destruction rather than construction. Being a mechanical doll, his artificiality prevents him from embracing dialogue and from being incorporated in the concept of brotherhood. He brazenly announces his intentions: “I will be destroying everything because that’s what I fancy doing!”149 He is bored with the company of the boys and would like to acquire the whole of knowledge quickly and almost “mechanically.” Mr Inkblot takes notice of the inhuman pace at which his pupil learns and finds it difficult to accept: “Basically, he has outdone all of us. He is simply a wonderful creation. He has learned everything there is to learn at the Academy, and he can even speak Chinese. It seems to me that he literally devoured my Chinese dictionary,
