The girl in the blue dress

Much has been made over the centuries over Leonardo's "Mona Lisa," much less has been said about del Piombo's "Salome" (1510) in the National Gallery, London.  The author has been arrested by the painting with its three-quarter profile of a contemporaneous Italian beauty with the remarkable gaze, the platter with the head of St. John the Baptist, and the window at right opening on to an expanse of sky and low cerulean mountains, matching in hue the color of Salome's dress.

The confrontational, direct gaze of this Salome is unlike any Renaissance or Baroque portrait that I know of it.  It predates Manet's "Olympia" by over three centuries. 

I would like to explore in this paper the historical background of the painting as well as offer possible interpretations of "the look," of the painting as a whole.

Outline for a memory play: The matrilinear patrimony

In psychological theme, closely related to Edvard Munch's famous "The Scream"
(1993, National Museum, Oslo) is Caravaggio's "Medusa" (1597) which I viewed in the Uffizi Gallery last spring.  Most people in the thronging crowds that day walked past it.

I cannot argue for any traditionally art-historical link between the two works of art, e.g., that Munch was inspired after having seen the earlier work or a copy of it.

But I do believe that thematically the two share a very strong link, one that transcends the absence of a traditional art-historical patrimony.

Some works of art took the artist several decades to arrive at a unfinished state, e.g., Rodin's "Gates of Hell" (Musee Rodin, Paris).   Others were apparently whipped off in a matter of hours.

The rough state of the surface of a work of art is no indicator of the quality of either the conception of or the work of art itself.

Logic, cold and often cruel.  Feeling, deeper, tempestuous.

One has been subjected to the dictates of the other, a thematic repeatedly asserted in coursework at institutions of higher learning.

To the lower depths, then...feeling...holding the hand of logic.

I was turned to stone

because I gazed into the

face of Medusa.

Unlike Perseus

I had no shield.

Unlike Perseus,

I had no sword.

Can stone be turned into water?

* * * * *

Dramatis personae:

Medusa,

Perseus,

The boy,

The mother,

The shooting stars,

The night.

academia article

"What did you learn in [graduate] school?" 

To see [what I had not been paying attention to]. To remember [what I did not want to]. "What is knowledge?" 

"How is knowledge used? Who determines how it is used? Who decides what is knowledge? Who is served by it?"

  I do know that apart from sporadic quarterly newsletters, which I have repeatedly refused, I have not announcements or any other communication from the department of art history at Kansas. I do not know why I receive the newsletter. 

 "What is academic freedom?" 

It is a deeply compromised by a system that can only be described as educational serfdom, with an entrenched hierarchy that looks out for its own interests before defending 'academic freedom' and diversity of opinion. 

As with serfdom, presumably, cases of extreme brutality have and do occur but rarely brought to light, much less punished. It has no real self-interest in taking more than a desultory self-examination of itself, its rules, written, spoken, and unspoken. Granted there must be certain individuals do not abuse the system or at least do it less than others. 

"Why are/have you been interested in 'history'--the past? What connection can something which is 'over,' 'dead,' and relegated to dusty volumes in libraries--where only pointy heads go--have with the present, or the future? What's the point of 'looking backwards' (at mostly 'dead white men') when we have to move forward?"  

This proposed article is not academic in the traditional sense but hopefully it does provide insight into one person's examination of an academic discipline as practiced by both the author and the object of his critical scrutiny at the University of Kansas, 1991-93, Kress Department of Art History. The goal is examination, self-knowledge, understanding, the dissemination of a history that has relevance to higher education as it practiced not in theory but in practice at least under the circumstances herein recounted. No, I am not providing a longitudinal study of the effects of negative professor-graduate student relationships at one or several institutions of higher learning. But I am being scrupulous and as objective as I can be in my recollection of conversations and interactions which have haunted me over the past 20+ years. I ask: What good is all the prize-winning scholarship in the world if one cannot be honest about what took place in one's classroom? If one cannot take responsibility for history as one lived and wrote it, however indirectly? As a child of the 1960s civil rights movement in the U.S. and one who lived in Beijing during the student movement in 1989, and one who personally witnessed how civic and educational institutions failed him, I am forced to confront these questions not merely on an academic but a personal level. We might be well reminded that each [living] moment passes into a moment of history, and that the living have this special responsibility to history if only because there is no way to live without having to live, construct, confront history. Each moment contains a kernel of courage, whatever the odds against it. Each moment can and should be lived with fearless honesty. ὁ ... ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ And to take responsibility for history. Sophocles in Oedipus Rex, said as much, as did Sigmund Freud centuries later.

 To cut to the chase, I would like to acknowledge that in 1992 U was used as an emotional punching bag by my professor, Marsha Weidner [now Marsha Haufler], resulting in psychological trauma for life, in hindsight, less important than the career derailment itself. Neither the University administration nor department offered any assistance, although I did visit the university health center and sought outside help as well. As I write this, I have fallen into a state of physiological depression, fevers and chills having anteceded the writing of this draft by about half a day. At the same time, I admit now they I could never have had the understanding I have now of Edvard Munch's "The Scream" without the experience(s) I had with Ms. Weidner at the University of Kansas. The scream is about one who has heard (Or more precisely, the recipient of the scream), not the one who has screamed. The painting has been misinterpreted: It is after the scream This was an interpretation no academic had clued me to. It "feels" intuitively correct. The air is set in motion from the scream though all is silent except in the soul of the receiver, who vainly and in disbelief covers his ears. The bulging eyes gap for a mouth. and the wraith-like body in sway tell us better than any words could what the subjective experience is. (No scene from "Star Wars" could ever be this more disturbing, more unreal and real at the same time). All I could say to the people I tried to tell was that "she screamed at me [in her office]. She screamed at me." Move on. Bury it. I tried to. For over 22 years. But the images, words, sounds will not die, do not die. They remain etched in memory and become our history. To recover the history which is ours and which lives every day even without our awareness or acknowledgment, that, to me, is the task of the historian of any stripe. Reclaiming the history of what was forgotten, lost, denied, unacknowledged, buried alive, buried dead, if you have it. Maybe this is the way I will move on. By sharing the strong connection between art and life. I ask myself now: Why is it that if anyone behaved the way she behaved when I was verbally and psychologically assaulted in her office one morning, I, or most people, would tell the person to "f--- off" immediately that I meekly listened to everything she screamed at me, not uttering a word in my defense? What circumstances, besides my sheer fear, hurt, and paralysis (the mouse before the python) contributed to this situation and resulted in a trauma that had unfortunate consequences for the rest of my life? By showing the underbelly of an education, I sincerely hope that this will in even a small way make it less likely that it will happen to another graduate student. It was easier to keep my silence, or so I thought. After all, it was expected of me. That is, ultimately, the coward's way out. Presumably, very few people will ever see this, much less be persuaded by what I have recounted. But even if it makes a minuscule difference, it is preferable to saying nothing. I do it for myself and at the same time for others. And perhaps for my parents as well who would have wanted me to take care of myself and who stressed the importance of an education. Having grown up in the United States and gone to a prominent liberal arts college, though, I endorse the notion that "education" is more the the recitation of facts or the ribbons of academic or professional accolades. This "confession" was not something I would have wanted to reveal. It took 22 years, nightmares, illness, and an indifference, a glaring silence from the University of Kansas, and a newsletter which followed me over that same time period, finding my new address whenever I moved, being sent against my express wishes. C'est pas vraiment mon truc...de me devoiler, ni de devoiler des autres dans un quelconque domaine publique, C'est pas mon intention. C'est d'abord de raconter l'histoire de mon education qui peut sembler invraisemblable mais qui est en rait la verite. Et c'est ca que je recherche. J'y dis ce que j'ai decouvert jusqu'ici et ce que je continue a chercher. A few years ago I wrote to Marsha Weidner aka Marsha Haufler about my experience ("Why did this happen?") but received no response. This indifference to the mental health of students may not suddenly be news, but the particularly severe circumstances of my ordeal warrant, in my opinion, much more attention from university administrators if the cycle of abuse is not to lead even worse things. What causes young people, and older people as well, to commit acts of violence, against themselves or others? My guess: The brutality of words, looks, actions, voices This should not be happening anywhere but certainly not in higher education. If Linda Nochlin can be permitted the use of a four-letter word whose use is strongly disapproved of in all but very private quarters, surely there is room for tolerance of the use of a certain five-letter word used widely to indicate disapprobation in the vernacular of the United States in 2016. Unfortunately, words--the stock-in-trade of the profession , not matter how strongly worded, are a weak stand-in for more actions which would be warranted. Assault--not just sexual or "physical"--can occur to those of a different gender, of a different skin colors than we are accustomed to hearing about, even if no one hears [about] them. Or, at least, believes, that they have, in fact, occurred. Suicides have occurred at my most liberal of alma maters because college administrators failed to provide adequate channels of support to students and, instead, implied that the students in question were at least partially to blame adn that they had done all that they could. I did not fail [at] the University of Kansas so much as the institution failed me, as it undoubtedly as has failed others. It failed to protect from the caprices and abusive behavior of one woman and from the indifference of a system that did live up to its self-laudatory ideals. Actually, two decades is only a short time in history. And dissent, including unconventional formats, is an honorable tradition within the Western Tradition. Without specifics, recounted perhaps even in numbing detail, our generalizations cannot but be shallow and unproven. Epatons la bourgeoisie, ceux qui parmi nous sont si complaisants. (Thank you, T.J. Clark).

Les saisons - petit adagio du ballet d'Alexandre Glazunov

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dum-2EKDBtY

What did you learn in [graduate] school]?

transcript of posting on academia.edu

"What did you learn in [graduate] school?" To see [what I had not been paying attention to]. To remember [what I did not want to]. "What is knowledge?" "How is knowledge used? Who determines how it is used? Who decides what is knowledge? Who is served by it?" "What is academic freedom?" It is a deeply compromised by a system that can only be described as educational serfdom, with an entrenched hierarchy that looks out for its own interests before defending 'academic freedom' and diversity of opinion. It has no real self-interest in taking more than a desultory self-examination of itself, its rules, written, spoken, and unspoken. Granted there must be certain individuals do not abuse the system or at least do it less than others. "Why are/have you been interested in 'history'--the past? What connection can something which is 'over,' 'dead,' and relegated to dusty volumes in libraries--where only pointy heads go--have with the present, or the future? What's the point of 'looking backwards' (at mostly 'dead white men') when we have to move forward?" This proposed article is not academic in the traditional sense but hopefully it does provide insight into one person's examination of an academic discipline as practiced by both the author and the object of his critical scrutiny at the University of Kansas, 1991-93, Kress Department of Art History. The goal is examination, self-knowledge, understanding, the dissemination of a history that has relevance to higher education as it practiced not in theory but in practice at least under the circumstances herein recounted. I understand that many, if not most academics, will think these disclosures inappropriate, not "scholarly." No, I am not providing a longitudinal study of the effects of negative professor-graduate student relationships at one or several institutions of higher learning. But I am being scrupulous and as objective as I can be in my recollection of conversations and interactions which have haunted me over the past 20+ years. I ask: What good is all the prize-winning scholarship in the world if one cannot be honest about what took place in one's classroom? If one cannot take responsibility for history as one lived and wrote it, however indirectly? The more footnotes, the more sheer enumerating of facts, the more quotations from people of "higher [scholarly] standing" does not make necessarily for an article or book that is "better," especially if it is passionless or has little relevance except in a very abstract way. The violence in our schools is not limited to middle schools (or elementary schools). The bullies only grow into adult bullies; they do not disappear or stop their behaviors upon graduation from college, notwithstanding popular images of cap-and-gown graduation ceremonies and ivory towers. As a child of the 1960s civil rights movement in the U.S. and one who lived in Beijing during the student movement in 1989, and one who personally witnessed how civic and educational institutions failed him, I am forced to confront these questions not merely on an academic but a personal level. We might be well reminded that each [living] moment passes into a moment of history, and that the living have this special responsibility to history if only because there is no way to live without having to live, construct, confront history. Each moment contains a kernel of courage, whatever the odds against it. Each moment can and should be lived with fearless honesty. ὁ ... ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ If no can be bothered (or is too afraid) to remember, what does this do to 'history'? {I respect very much the Tiananmen mothers for not wanting to 'let this die,' knowing that the Chinese government wants them to die off taking their memories with them). And to take responsibility for history. Sophocles in Oedipus Rex, said as much, as did Sigmund Freud centuries later. To cut to the chase, I would like to acknowledge that in 1992 U was used as an emotional punching bag by my professor, Marsha Weidner [now Marsha Haufler], resulting in psychological trauma for life, in hindsight, less important than the career derailment itself. Neither the University administration nor department offered any assistance, although I did visit the university health center and sought outside help as well. As I write this, I have fallen into a state of physiological depression, fevers and chills having anteceded the writing of this draft by about half a day. At the same time, I admit now they I could never have had the understanding I have now of Edvard Munch's "The Scream" without the experience(s) I had with Ms. Weidner at the University of Kansas. The scream is about one who has heard (Or more precisely, the recipient of the scream), not the one who has screamed. The painting has been misinterpreted: It is after the scream This was an interpretation no academic had clued me to. It "feels" intuitively correct. The air is set in motion from the scream though all is silent except in the soul of the receiver, who vainly and in disbelief covers his ears. The bulging eyes gap for a mouth. and the wraith-like body in sway tell us better than any words could what the subjective experience is. (No scene from "Star Wars" could ever be this more disturbing, more unreal and real at the same time). All I could say to the people I tried to tell was that "she screamed at me [in her office]. She screamed at me." Move on. Bury it. I tried to. For over 22 years. But the images, words, sounds will not die, do not die. They remain etched in memory and become our history. To recover the history which is ours and which lives every day even without our awareness or acknowledgment, that, to me, is the task of the historian of any stripe. Reclaiming the history of what was forgotten, lost, denied, unacknowledged, buried alive, buried dead, if you have it. Maybe this is the way I will move on. By sharing the strong connection between art and life. I ask myself now: Why is it that if anyone behaved the way she behaved when I was verbally and psychologically assaulted in her office one morning, I, or most people, would tell the person to "f--- off" immediately that I meekly listened to everything she screamed at me, not uttering a word in my defense? What circumstances, besides my sheer fear, hurt, and paralysis (the mouse before the python) contributed to this situation and resulted in a trauma that had unfortunate consequences for the rest of my life? By showing the underbelly of an education, I sincerely hope that this will in even a small way make it less likely that it will happen to another graduate student. It was easier to keep my silence, or so I thought. After all, it was expected of me. That is, ultimately, the coward's way out. Presumably, very few people will ever see this, much less be persuaded by what I have recounted. But even if it makes a minuscule difference, it is preferable to saying nothing. I do it for myself and at the same time for others. And perhaps for my parents as well who would have wanted me to take care of myself and who stressed the importance of an education. Having grown up in the United States and gone to a prominent liberal arts college, though, I endorse the notion that "education" is more the the recitation of facts or the ribbons of academic or professional accolades. This "confession" was not something I would have wanted to reveal. It took 22 years, nightmares, illness, and an indifference, a glaring silence from the University of Kansas, and a newsletter which followed me over that same time period, finding my new address whenever I moved, being sent against my express wishes. C'est pas vraiment mon truc...de me devoiler, ni de devoiler des autres dans un quelconque domaine publique, C'est pas mon intention. C'est d'abord de raconter l'histoire de mon education qui peut sembler invraisemblable mais qui est en rait la verite. Et c'est ca que je recherche. J'y dis ce que j'ai decouvert jusqu'ici et ce que je continue a chercher. A few years ago I wrote to Marsha Weidner aka Marsha Haufler about my experience ("Why did this happen?") but received no response. This indifference to the mental health of students may not suddenly be news, but the particularly severe circumstances of my ordeal warrant, in my opinion, much more attention from university administrators if the cycle of abuse is not to lead even worse things. What causes young people, and older people as well, to commit acts of violence, against themselves or others? My guess: The brutality of words, looks, actions, voices This should not be happening anywhere but certainly not in higher education. If Linda Nochlin can be permitted the use of a four-letter word whose use is strongly disapproved of in all but very private quarters, surely there is room for tolerance of the use of a certain five-letter word used widely to indicate disapprobation in the vernacular of the United States in 2016. Unfortunately, words--the stock-in-trade of the profession , not matter how strongly worded, are a weak stand-in for more actions which would be warranted. Assault--not just sexual or "physical"--can occur to those of a different gender, of a different skin colors than we are accustomed to hearing about, even if no one hears [about] them. Or, at least, believes, that they have, in fact, occurred. Suicides have occurred at my most liberal of alma maters because college administrators failed to provide adequate channels of support to students and, instead, implied that the students in question were at least partially to blame adn that they had done all that they could. I did not fail [at] the University of Kansas so much as the institution failed me, as it undoubtedly as has failed others. It failed to protect from the caprices and abusive behavior of one woman and from the indifference of a system that did live up to its self-laudatory ideals. Actually, two decades is only a short time in history. And dissent, including unconventional formats, is an honorable tradition within the Western Tradition. Without specifics, recounted perhaps even in numbing detail, our generalizations cannot but be shallow and unproven. Epatons la bourgeoisie, ceux qui parmi nous sont si complaisants. (Thanks, T.J. Clark).

Faure. Nocturne n. 13

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=noGIqp3pAk4

How violence spawns violence; the way out of the endless loop; the meaning of a lifetime

January 2016

The past is over, but can it ever be destroyed, enfolded as it forever is, into the atoms of the universe.  Is there an end to history?

Taking the "humanity" out of the humanities Redux.
For a better world, people need to begin telling the truth even when it feels uncomfortable to do so.
And since no one has apparently done this, out of sheer fear and/or
paralysis, I will take it upon myself to do so.

As I have asked hitherto, "What is history if not those things that have had a continuing impact on the present?  What is the role of a historian if not to document and explain that history?"


For Marsha Haufler, to whom I owe an enormous debt for having helped me over the years to understood how violence begets violence.


For the past 22 years I have never received notices of reunions, lectures, opportunities, other correspondance, etc. from the department in which I received my master's degree.

But I do keep receiving, erratically, the quarterly newsletter of the graduate department in which I received my masters degree at the University of Kansas in the early 1990's, even though (1) I have written to the department expressly requesting them to stop sending me the newsletter and (2) sent newsletters back to the University with the words "Refused--Return to Sender."

In the lingua franca of America 2016, not academese:

Someone could very possibly be excused for thinking,"Someone should have slapped that bitch* a long time ago."

* The customary word of many if not most Americans for a difficult person of the gentle sex.  In this case, it is being used, exceptionally, to indicate the egregious past behavior of the person in question.   There is no gender chauvinism, as it seems to me that most Americans will readily designate a difficult person of the other gender a "p----" in private.

I think it hypocritical to reserve in private what one does not say in public.  Gossip hurts another person more than being upfront.   I do not lie or insinuate.


Not all things should or can be forgiven, notwithstanding the adage.

The only regret is that I didn't say it 20 years ago to her face.  For myself...and for her, as well.

This needs to be said during my lifetime:  I found Marsha Weidner, whatever her scholarly accomplishments and sharp mind withstanding, to be an unprincipled person.  On repeated occasions, she did not tell the truth and, instead, demurred and/or covered it.   She knowingly, on the one hand, protected people who had committed inappropriate people and, on the other had, viciously attacked those she "had a beef with."   She did other things that were clearly contrary to what I and I believe most people would consider ethical, i.e., inflicting her own personal pain on others.

On a most basic level, she misused her authority in extraordinary ways.  I can only guess at what the effects those have had in the intervening years.

The question is:  besides myself, how many other people--students--has she reaped irreparable psychological damage on?   Has she crippled other people?  Did they defend themselves?  Did they offer any resistance?  Did they cry?   Or did they just whimper?  

What has she actually done in her lifetime to help another to grow in wisdom and compassion, not just to sprout outsized egos or to compile CD-ROM-sized stacks of historical reconstruction and passionless conceptually closed systems?

Even if she had turned into Florence Nightingale in the intervening years, her behavior during my time was egregiously wrong, not just inappropriate..

What happens when one chooses not to remember that which is actually important (to oneself, at least, if ostensibly not to others)?

How is it that the humanities produce people of her stature with such insensitivity to the needs, wants, and feelings of others?

Since when did cool condescension, insinuations, extremely violent outbursts of rage, cruelty, and verbal attacks become accepted within the terrarium?

Did she create a climate of terror in her classroom?   Is a climate of intense fear--that of searing mental pain meted out as punishment) and anxiety conducive to the pursuit of knowledge?

(I believe so).   Will any of her associates or (former) students be willing to come forward?

One which enabled her protege, An Pan-yi, was to shove me and verbally upbraid me in one instance and assault another fellow student, Diana Zhou (Zhou Yongkang) on another occasion?

The price of a piece of paper, a diploma (Ph.D.), should not have to be the sacrifice of one's self-respect and, in its stead, the grafting on of an inability to discern the difference between what is ethically acceptable and what is not.

I wrote to the present Chancellor of the University of Kansas recently on the above questions but received no response whatsoever.  I take the silence for either acquiescence or tacit approval.

If I, or another person, produced medical evidence of psychological trauma, would that change things?    

Is it power relations, not justice,  that is primarily and overwhelmingly the basis for the American way of life?  But we never tell young children this...what we know, in our guts, to be true.    Without a configuration of power relations, there is no justice, as the latter only exists in the abstract.  We reify a concept that does not exist.  A just outcome may be possible, but justice is not some eternal constituent component of the universe.  No wonder academia produces so many Marxist-leaning scholars:  academics learn first-hand that power comes out of the barrel, figurative or otherwise.  Who would deceive himself otherwise?

We're talking about the pursuit of power (whose instrument is force and which secures well-being and will presumably end in happiness), not truth, and most certainly not love (or understanding).

Even if you don't say, "If you don't do this, your going to get your ass kicked" (Mad Men), it is clear that the motivation, if not the actual language, is the same.  The stakes are different, but the Mafia has the odd virtue of at least being honest, if extreme in application of the general principles at work.

The reason Marsha Weidner never "got caught" is that no one really cares, because she was simply playing by rules that are tacitly accepted, even if she clearly brutalized (and threatened to do so even if she hadn't already) other people.  She may not even be clear that she did "anything wrong."  No one may ever have told her:  You've gone too far.  You are hurting me.

And if she can do it, why can't I?

That is the failure of the system.

She can change her hairstyle and even her name, but not history.

Whether she cares or not, I have no idea.  But even 20 years after the fact, with people saying, "It's water under the bridge, move on, get it?",  I say "the meaning of history is that it is about not forgetting what is important in order that the pain that others live not be repeated and that there be healing."

Those who remain silent with the history, with the knowledge are accomplices, as I was myself, in my own self-destruction.

No one ever cried, no one ever screamed, no one ever wept...no one dared to.

"We're waging a war against terror" is a pretty disingenuous if not outright dishonest statement. Abroad, at home, and in our minds and hearts.Those who say it is a fact of life that bosses at the workplace, and academics (in graduate school) sometimes yell or get angry at their students might reflect on my experience with that the professor in question left me 22 years thinking, "Marsha Weidner was a dictator.  She was Stalin incarnate.  I had never met anyone like her, and I still haven't.  She crushed not just dissent of any sort, she punished psychologically students, even her protege, that left students shaking--voice quavering, body shivering, or in tears.

No one dared to say anything that they feared would displease her.  Just one look, just the tone of the voice was enough to "turn someone into stone," metaphorically speaking.

I don't believe this is how any human being should treat another, much a professor towards his or her students.  It is a very poor model, and I don't see how academic freedom can exist in such an atmosphere.

What happened was a clear violation of humanity.  This was the sort of thing that happened or still happens to prisoners in Guantanamo.  No exaggeration.  The yelling in one's face, the rage, the red face, the accusations, blame, threats.

Standing up, even 22 years after the fact, enables me in some measure to (somewhat like a marriage vow) the world and myself, "I was violated.   But I know my limits now, and I will not let that happen again, short of having a gun held to my head."

 I offer this up because undoubtedly my experience will be swallowed up in indifference.  That a few people in this profession can get ahead despite this kind of behavior to me indicates that "the system of checks and balances" in graduate school emphatically leaves something to be desired.

I had a professor in my (liberal arts) college to whom I had written about an incident where I felt he had something deeply insulting and hurtful to me (and to Asian-Americans in general)--just one sentence.  I wrote him a few years ago, and I did get an apology.




What he said remained with me for almost 20 years, but it was nothing in comparison with what Marsha Weidner did.

I refuse to follow that model.  And what happened, I believe, needs to be known.









May what I say and do be of benefit to not only myself but to all sentient beings.




* * * * *

Matthew 18:3

“And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”

King James Version (KJV)