Introducing Chesslock Holmes
"Mathematics and Art" chess set of Chesslock Holmes © Renate Otterbach (text and images)

Introducing Chesslock Holmes

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Preface:

Chesslock Holmes is interested in everything related to chess. He is as obsessed with chess as Sherlock Holmes was with crime. His friend and chronicler, Cheston, accompanies him on many of his adventures, although not on all of them. Life at 212 B, Chessnut Lane is never boring, but let Cheston tell the story.

Our Neighborhood

Hi, my name is Cheston, and I live at 221B Chessnut Lane, a luxurious neighborhood. Originally, it was named after the Chestnut trees that line the street, but over time, it became a street populated by many chess enthusiasts dedicated to the game of chess. A punster called it "Chessnut Lane," and the name stuck. The residents enjoy the pun.

Our neighborhood is generally quiet, with few altercations occurring.   There are times, however, when the street gets rowdy; normally, it is during special chess events, such as the Olympiad. Then you can hear people shouting in the cacophony of languages:

"Sack the queen!"

 "Oh, not he blundered his rock!"

"Nh5" etc.

Normally, however, chess players act like ladies and gentlemen. Yes, our neighborhood has its fair share of female chess players.

 In many ways, our neighborhood remains largely unchanged from its appearance in the 1890s, when Sherlock Holmes resided on Baker Street. From time to time, you can even hear a hansom cab trotting down the street, while the occupant analyses a chess problem in his head, listening to the rhythmic two-beat gait of the horse. Many chess players tell me that the rhythmic sound of the hoofbeat enables them to forget the busyness of modern life.

                              My Roommate and Companion: Chesslock Holmes

Chesslock Holmes, like his predecessor, is endowed with an excessive amount of energy, which he uses to master the game. Not to be the best at the game, that is easy, according to him. No, he wants to master the game. Which, according to him, means being able to understand and explain the underlying mathematical foundation of the game. And beyond that, to appreciate the aesthetic and artistic beauty of the game.

When he first mentioned that, I said, "Isn't the goal of the game to win? That is what Carlson would say."

He smiled. "Carlson and I have different goals; his search ended when he with the world championship, mine is a never-ending quest. Theoretically possible, not realistically unattainable.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Chess is mathematics, and mathematics is finite, and what is finite can be mastered."

"Who said that chess was mathematics?" I asked.

"Bobby Fischer," he replied, "And I believe that he was correct. He had an excellent logical mind."

He paused for a moment reflectively and then continued in a thoughtful, introspective voice. "The nearly impossible challenge-- that is yet possible-- is what intrigues me."

We sat in thoughtful silence. I had gained an unexpected insight.

"And yet," he continued thoughtfully, "It goes beyond Euclidean Geometry to fractals – the place where mathematic and art meet, a place of infinite possibilities." 

"Fractals? Could you elaborate?"

"Sure," he replied. "Let me give you an example.

Snowflakes are similar in many ways, yet each one is unique. Each snowflake has its own mathematical proportions, but it is also a work of art. Look:

In 1904, the Swedish Mathematician Helge von Knoch published the original article on the Knoch curve. You can observe the progressive stages from a triangle to a snowflake here." "ttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koch_snowflake.

"Here are some images of Knoch's snowflakes with their mathematical formula."

 "The Koch curve is one of the earliest fractals to be described. It went beyond Euclidean geometry, and yet it was built on it. This is very much like chess. The board and figurines are based on simple Euclidean geometry, but underlying key concepts of force, time, space, and pawn structure add a level of complexity far beyond the limitations of the board and figurines, very much like the discovery of fractals added a new dimension to our understanding of mathematics."

"I studied the snowflakes. I had not realized that there were so many different types of snowflakes., This is fascinating," I said. "Each snowflake seems to be a work of art." 

"Yes!" "Holmes exclaimed. "Look at these beautiful snowflakes!"

"They are beautiful, some of them are complex, and others are simple, but elegant. And the details, look at all the details." I  exclaimed.

"Simple, elegant, and complex," Holmes iterated, "Like Capablanca vs. Alekhine?" Holmes chuckled.

"Exactly like that, Capablanca traded off everything the get the endgame he wanted, and Alekhine thrived on complexity," added.

Holmes smiled as we sat in companionable silence.

"I want to show you one more snowflake, which I think embodies the essence of chess." He finally said.  

I studied it for a moment. "It nearly looks like a sculpture."

"Yes, he replied. It appears to be a work of art. Multi-layered, detailed on the inside, and more blurred on the outside. The geometric feel is achieved by repeated patterns. Like chess, it is the repeatable patterns that give the game its mathematical structure, but it is the infinite combination of applying these patterns that gives it its beauty.

I reflected on this for a moment. "Maybe that explains why Marcel Duchamp became obsessed with chess at the height of his career."

"Holmes chuckled. "Yes, and it cost him his first marriage."

"Well, spending your entire honeymoon studying chess problems would not endear you to your spouse."

"Neither would cluing the chess figurines on the chess board as revenge." Chuckled Holmes[i].

"No." I concurred, chuckling.

"It is not surprising that the marriage did not last longer than three months."

"Yes, the story of Marcel Duchamp is an interesting one. Duchamp integrated many geometrical and mathematical concepts into his work, including the use of strings with slightly different curvatures," Holmes said. "There is an interesting article about his artwork and his chess career."

https://www.toutfait.com/duchamps-perspectivethe-intersection-of-art-and-geometry/

"And then he became obsessed with chess and ignored his art like his wife," I said. "At the height of his career, not during a time of stagnation; that I could understand." 

"Yes, but he was able to explore both art and mathematics through chess. Later in his chess career, he became fascinated with endgames. It is said that he developed endgames that are still unsolved to this day.[i] Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any of them."

"He also returned to art in the 1940s, frequently incorporating chess themes into his work. His artwork had morphed into something new, and that is what he valued: the constant exploration of boundaries." He continued.

 "He even married again, and this marriage lasted."  

"Do you think it helped that she was an avid chess player?" I asked.

"I am sure that it did not hurt; she definitely would not clue his chess pieces to the board."

"No," I laughed, "because then they could not play chess," we said simultaneously.

"But that was later in life. He did not remarry until 1954. More than 20 years after his first marriage." Holmes added.

"I can imagine them playing chess and exploring different chess ideas," I said.

Holmes took a deep breath and sat reflectively in his chair by the fireplace.

"It was in his mid-thirties when he abandoned art to dedicate himself to chess."

"Can you still find his games?" I asked.

"Yes, many of them are still available in the databases. However, the simultaneous exhibition game in Paris, where Alekhine played 34 exhibition games against teams of chess players, is difficult to find. Duchamp's team consisted of himself, Pierre Biscay, and Marcel Berman.[i] And they beat Alekhine. Alekhine underestimated the power of passed pawns in this game. You can find a copy of the game here."

h "tps://www.chess.com/classroom/spiky-indigo-stork

"I am sure Nimzowitsch had something to say about this," I said.

"I am sure he did," Holmes laughed. "Especially, as he was considered second, after Alekhine."

"But if you want to get a real feel of Duchamp's games," Homes continued, "I suggest that you watch WGM Jennifer Shahada's video, 'The Legend: Marcel Duchamp.' 'Here is the link."

https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=mcafee&p=What+years+did+Marcel+Duchamp+play+competitive+chess&type=E210US1045G0#id=52&vid=4e43363d18771f92f8f361a1359387e8&action=viewI

"Interestingly, Duchamp's games became the inspiration for the art pieces of Tom Hackney."

https://worldchesshof.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/hackney-wchofall-the-arts-fall-2016.png

"I often reflect on this conversation with Holmes. It happened early in our acquaintanceship. It was then that I realized his obsession with chess and the agility of his mind. And yet, like Duchamp, he is difficult to classify; he seemed to be conversant with a wide range of topics. Not unusual among chess players."

"i] Duchamp unsolvable endgames: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcel_Duchamp

[i] The Immortal Game: A History of Chess by David Shenk. (2007) Anchor Books.

Note:  Images generated were AI-generated and edited in Photoshop as needed

I have decided to start a series of blogs in the new year. As I thought about it, many ideas presented themselves. I may pursue them later, but as it is Christmas time, I thought I would start with a series of blogs honoring three people who have deeply and profoundly affected my attitude toward chess and life. The first blog, today’s blog, will set the background. 

Toward the end of his life, William  Lombardy visited the Mechanics Institute in San Francisco, California. I remember when he came in and sat next to me on the first day of the Imre Koenig event. This was a special two-day round-robin event where invited grandmasters competed against each other. If I remember correctly, there were only four players, Daniel Naroditsky and Sam Shankland among them.

I did not recognize the stranger who sat next to me, but John Donaldson, the MI chess director, did. He greeted him and brought out an old picture of a chess event with Lombardy sitting in the front row. Handing the picture to Lombardy, he asked Lombardy if he remembered. Lombardy smiled. Then John invited him to join us the following day for a special grandmaster luncheon.

After the luncheon, while I was cleaning up, Lombardy and I talked. I asked him what I could do to improve in chess. I told him I studied games by analyzing them, but It was a very slow and time-consuming process. He suggested that I spend 10 minutes a day going quickly through as many games as possible. “That won’t work,” I responded. So he tried a different track; he asked me if I stopped it every few minutes to analyze it when I listened to music. Hmm, he had a point; I do not stop the music every few minutes while listening. Lombardy and I spent an hour or two that afternoon discussing many things. We had a wonderful time.

After that event, Lombardy often visited the MI, especially on Tuesday nights when the place was buzzing with people. Tuesday is the night of the historic Tuesday Night Marathon, which often draws more than 100 players.

As participants finish, they gather in the skittles room, a special room with walls covered with pictures of famous chess players. A tall picture of Tal smoking his cigar is on one side, a photograph of Spassky giving a simultaneous exhibition at the Mechanics Institute on the other side. Over the door to the office is a framed picture of Bobby Fischer on the cover of Time magazine. Additional pictures are scattered over the walls, such as Frank Sinatra and Walter Browne playing chess, giving the room the comfortable feeling of a home rather than a club. The room is filled with solid wooden chess tables, each with its history.

On Tuesday nights, the room is full as the players of the Tuesday night marathon stream in. “What would you have done if I played this?’’ “Why did you play this move?” “What were you thinking here?” “You nearly got me there.”  “Why didn’t you play this move?”

These questions, asked quietly at various tables as players analyze their games at each table, give the room a quiet buzz of fellowship and camaraderie. Lombardy and I were sitting at one of the tables across from each other. He had been talking to one of his friends, who just had left. So I set down across from him, handing him a poem I wrote about Bobby Fischer. I always wondered if my portrayal of Bobby Fischer was accurate, and here I had someone who knew him well. I was not going to let this opportunity slip by.

At first, he was reluctant to read it, but he agreed. As he started reading the poem, I heard him comment, “I like this….” “The wording here needs to be changed…” etc. When he had finished, I looked eagerly at him. “Did I capture Bobby Fischer?” He nodded; there was a pause, and then I heard him quietly say, “It could have been me.”