Journal articles: 'Carriages and carts in art' – Grafiati (2024)

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Relevant bibliographies by topics / Carriages and carts in art / Journal articles

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Author: Grafiati

Published: 4 June 2021

Last updated: 31 July 2024

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1

Fomin,O. "ASSESSMENT CARTS STRENGTH INDICATORS WAGONS WITH EXPIRED SERVICE LIFE." Collection of scientific works of the State University of Infrastructure and Technologies series "Transport Systems and Technologies" 1, no.37 (June29, 2021): 68–75. http://dx.doi.org/10.32703/2617-9040-2021-37-8.

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Currently, a significant number of units of specialized cars of 1520 mm gauge in Ukraine has a service life that exceeds that assigned by the manufacturer. At the same time, many years of experience in diagnosing and analyzing the operation of carts of these cars by specialized organizations, shows that their technical condition after long operation shows that the specified service life specified in the technical conditions in most cases far from the limit. This is largely due to the significant margin of safety, which is laid down in the design, and the peculiarities of the operation of a particular type of car. The paper considers the issues of assessing the operation of such cars on the example of the carriage of the weighing car, bogie model 18-102, and the carriage of the passenger car model KVZ-TsNII used in the track economy for transportation of workers. The average daily mileage of such cars is 60-70 percent less than the average mileage that is laid down when calculating the service life assigned by the manufacturer. The evaluation and methods of determining the strength of the frames of carriages of special cars are performed. Conclusions are made based on the results of the analysis of the strength of the carriages of special cars.

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2

Wess, Jane. "Lecture demonstrations and the real world: the case of cart-wheels." British Journal for the History of Science 28, no.1 (March 1995): 79–90. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/s0007087400032702.

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A quotation from J. T. Desaguliers, one of the foremost scientific lecturers in England until his death in 1744, contrasts the use of demonstrations to show physical principles and those designed to imitate real situations:I have indeed a Machine with brass wheels whose steel axes have very small pivots nicely made that any of the wheels set in motion will turn for the space of more than half an hour… but the use of my machine being chiefly to show how near these kinds of experiments may be brought to agree with a mathematical theory; we cannot expect that any carriage to bear weight can have so little friction. Therefore I choose to relate Monsieur De Camus's Experiments made on Models of Carriages of an inch to a Foot every way representing Carts and Waggons… because it shows us directly what is the real Friction in the carriages at present in use.

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3

Solovyeva,SofiaN. "Vienna 18th Century Rococo Ceremonial Carriages." Observatory of Culture 20, no.6 (December21, 2023): 605–21. http://dx.doi.org/10.25281/2072-3156-2023-20-6-605-621.

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The aim of this paper is to describe and review 18th century Viennese parade carriages from the point of view of arts and crafts. Carriages are a small architectural form and are “programme works”, examples of the synthesis of arts, harmoniously combining the principles of architecture, sculpture, painting, decorative art, carpentry, as well as the skills of carvers, gilders, bronzers, embroiderers. At the same time, carriages were an integral part of ceremonies and participated in the most important state ceremonies (coronations, weddings, funerals, baptism of heirs). Certain types of carriages, such as carousel chariots and masquerade sleighs, were used for court entertainments, festivals and games. Imperial ceremonial carriages of the 17th—18th centuries served to represent the monarch’s power on a par with the throne and regalia and were created as true works of art, using expensive materials and sophisticated decoration techniques.The research is based on the study of natural material — original carriages from the collection of the Wagenburg Museum (Schoenbrunn Palace, Vienna) and the Armoury Chamber of the State Historical and Cultural Museum-Reserve “Moscow Kremlin”, its tasks include determining the model range of actual forms and designs, identifying the characteristic artistic methods, techniques of execution and decorative motifs of rococo. For the first time it is proposed to consider carriages from Russian museum collections in the context of the European carriage school that created them, combining the knowledge of foreign and domestic researchers about carriages of the 18th century. A separate research task is the integration of Viennese carriages from the Armoury Chamber of the Moscow Kremlin into a single analogue series with models from Wagenburg, which allows to expand the understanding of the Viennese carriage school of the 18 century.A review of the main models of rococo parade carriages created in the Viennese royal workshops from the 1720s to the 1760s is made. They are considered from the point of view of artistic value of the carriages, emphasis is made on the description of objects, decorative techniques and methods of artistic work. The material is divided into groups according to the statuses of the carriages: ceremonial official gala carriages of the emperor, retinue carriages and running holiday carriages. The specimens are arranged in chronological order, which illustrates the development of carriage-making from the model of the large carriage to the more technically advanced Berlines. It is shown that Viennese carriages are masterpieces of decorative and applied art, combining the highest level of skill of the creators of carriage projects (architects, decorators) and performers (carpenters, carvers, gilders, painters, weavers, embroiderers, blacksmiths and foundry workers).

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4

K.S. Kaspakbayev, A.T. Serikkulova, A.P. Karpov, R.S. Ustemirova, and A.A. Asanov. "FORMATION OF THE COMPOSITION ON THE RAILWAY TRACK WITH A DIFFERENT GAUGE." Herald of KSUCTA n a N Isanov, no.3 (September23, 2019): 411–19. http://dx.doi.org/10.35803/1694-5298.2019.3.411-419.

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At the present stage of development of the economy of Kazakhstan, the strengthening of international trade relations (including with foreign countries) is one of the main tasks of economic policy, the successful solution of which largely determines the result of the reforms implemented in the country. As a result of multiple couplers, uncoupling and replacement of wheeled carts, international trains at a station can be up to 3 hours losing travel time. At the beginning of the twentieth century, attempts were made to develop the technology of moving cars from one gauge to another, and vice versa. A more progressive way was the rearrangement of carriages of passenger and freight cars for different gauge widths in specially organized permutation stations of carriages at border junctions (PPV). For the timely formation of a competitive international transport corridor on the territory of Kazakhstan, it is necessary to foresee various options for solving existing problems, including those associated with train traffic on sections with different track gauges, including designs of a sliding wheelset from Kazakhstani specialists.

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5

Velame, João Vítor. "Cuaderno (etno)gráfico." Desde el Sur 16, no.2 (April30, 2024): e0021. http://dx.doi.org/10.21142/des-1602-2024-0021.

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The purpose of this essay is to present and reflect on the creation of an «(ethno)graphic notebook» based on a master's research on the uses and meanings attributed to instruments with wheels (handcarts, loading carts, refrigerator carts, warehouse carts, supermarket carts, etc.), in and around a public market (Velame, 2023) in João Pessoa-PB, Brazil. Between 2021 and 2023, drawings, photo collages and paintings were produced, forming a visual ethnography of the «carrinhos» present in the lives of various social actors. This essay reflects on the creative, imaginative and data organization processes in the construction of this drawn (ethno)graphy, exploring a visual perspective on the wheelbarrows and their narratives. The work is enriched by methodological techniques, standing out for the «critical and dense description» (Tsing, 2019; Geertz, 2015), adopting an ethnographic approach focused on the «art of seeing, art of being, art of writing» (Winkin, 1998).

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6

montague, julian. "The Stray Shopping Cart Project." Gastronomica 8, no.4 (2008): 21–23. http://dx.doi.org/10.1525/gfc.2008.8.4.21.

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The Project is a long term conceptual art project that documents and categorizes stray shopping carts based on the situations in which they are found. The overarching goal was to look at the ways in which language and scientific systems of classification shape our perception of things. Thousands of stray carts have been catalogued and categorized into thirty-three types. The two man types are Class A: False Carts and Class B: True Carts. Photographs from the project are included in the article.

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7

Rudiansyah, Rudiansyah. "Dynamics and Existence of Angkong in East Sumatra." Jurnal Cakrawala Mandarin 6, no.2 (November8, 2022): 332. http://dx.doi.org/10.36279/apsmi.v6i2.214.

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This paper reviewed the 'Dynamics and Existence of Angkong in East Sumatra'. Angkong is one of the public transportation used during the Dutch East Indies period in East Sumatra. This transportation is also known as the Hong Kong rickshaw. Humans formerly pulled it by running. These human-drawn angkong were generally brought indirectly by the Chinese who worked on the plantations. As Viktor Purcell wrote, most Chinese worked in the logging industry and as angkong porters. Before this, other forms of transportation were used, such as horse-drawn carriages, ox-carts, or buffalo carts. These kinds of transportation were used for special needs, such as in forest areas, and as a means to enter plantation areas that gardeners used at that time. This research intended to explain the dynamics and existence of rickshaw transportation in East Sumatra using the desk research method on research reports, various sources of books, journals, and related articles. This research also utilized the historical explanation theory from Kuntowijoyo. The distribution of angkong in East Sumatra did not immediately become public transportation but started from private ownership. It started with the gardeners seeing and supervising the plantations they manage.

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8

Fagurel,JuliaE. "More on the Existence of Masquerade Racing Sledges in Russiain the 18-th Century (according to the materials from the collection of carriages of the State Historical Museum)." Observatory of Culture, no.4 (October28, 2015): 122–27. http://dx.doi.org/10.25281/2072-3156-2015-0-4-122-127.

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The article is devoted to the existence of masquerade racing sledges - special carriages for court festivities - in Russia. Basing on the study of archival materials and monuments of the art of carriage-making from the State Historical Museum (SHM), the author identifies and analyzes some features of the masquerade racing sledges manufacturing and using and also determines chronological framework of the existence of this type of carriages in Russia.

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9

Wilson,RalphF., JamesB.Pettijohn, and ShannonD.McMurtrey. "Online Shopping Carts: The State-of-the-Art." Journal of Internet Commerce 5, no.2 (August7, 2006): 75–94. http://dx.doi.org/10.1300/j179v05n02_05.

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10

Terra, Paulo Cruz. "Free and Unfree Labour and Ethnic Conflicts in the Brazilian Transport Industry: Rio de Janeiro in the Nineteenth Century." International Review of Social History 59, S22 (October10, 2014): 113–32. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/s0020859014000376.

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AbstractOver the course of the nineteenth century, major changes transformed the transport of people and freight in Rio de Janeiro, the capital of Brazil during this period. These transformations involved both technological change, as transport evolved first from carriages and carts to horse-drawn trams and then to electric trams, as well as economic developments, such as the establishment of the first tram companies, many of which became important vehicles for foreign capital to enter Brazil. Although there has been extensive research from various angles into the changes undergone by the city's transport sector, there remains, however, a significant lacuna in the existing literature: the workers involved in that sector. The aim of this article is to analyse the workforce of the urban transport sector in Rio de Janeiro in the nineteenth century, and to understand the labour that these workers provided, how they were affected by the transformations in the sector, and, at the same time, how they responded to those transformations. During this period, issues such as the connections between free and unfree labour, ethnic conflicts, and work regulation were very important in transport work in Rio de Janeiro, and they are explored in the text.

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11

ROHOTCHENKO, Oleksii. "IMAGES OF GYPSY CARTS IN FINE ART OF 19TH – EARLY 21ST CENTURIES." Humanities science current issues 3, no.71 (2024): 51–56. http://dx.doi.org/10.24919/2308-4863/71-3-8.

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12

BEYN, Dmitri Gr, Ekaterina Al ISPOLOVA, Yuri Borisovich ZHITKOV, and Roman Al SAKHAROV. "DESIGN AND ASSESSMENT OF STRENGTH MAGNETO-LEVITATION BOGIE." Transportation systems and technology 1, no.1 (March15, 2015): 49–58. http://dx.doi.org/10.17816/transsyst20151149-58.

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The article presents the results of the prototype magneto-levitation bogie for the transport of containers using the technology of magneto-dynamic levitation «Inductrack». The main elements of the prototype bogie are: - supporting welded steel frame, which is attached to the container stops, blocks, magnets, support and guide wheels; - the magnets are combined into blocks according to the scheme «an Array of Halbach»; - shunting wheel required for pre-acceleration of the bogie (with levitation wheels not touching the track structure); - guide wheels, which serve for centering the bogie on the road when driving on a plot of acceleration. Cart design was developed taking into account the possibility of placing massive superconductors instead of permanent magnets. Carts are designed to carry containers of various types, it does not require additional devices for connecting the carriages together. To assess the strength of the construction was taken following calculation modes: - the moving bogie, when you turn on linear synchronous motor, a trolley supported by shunting wheel and operate the inertial load; - braking when the bogie is in magneto-levitation flight support with the maneuvering of the wheel is missing, there are inertial load; - support bogie magnets on when the bogie is in magneto-levitation flight; - support the trolley on the shunting wheel, the linear synchronous motor is turned off. The calculation was carried out by finite element method using the design package «Ansys Workbench».

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13

Tai, Sue-Yen Tjong Tjin. "Building Carriage, Wagon and Motor Vehicle Bodies in the Netherlands: The 1900–40 Transition." Journal of Transport History 36, no.2 (December 2015): 188–208. http://dx.doi.org/10.7227/tjth.36.2.4.

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During the motorisation boom in the Netherlands in the 1920s, Dutch wagonmakers started making bodies for motorised utility vehicles. Prior to this, luxury carriage builders already had made the transition to production of automobiles or the bodies for these new vehicles. For wagonmakers, the decline in demand for their traditional business and farm wagon and carts began after World War I. However, the automobile industry created many opportunities for them as well. Archival information shows that the Dutch trade associations and government agency Rijksnijverheidsdienst, played a key role in the innovation and retraining process by building a network, stimulating wagonmakers to modernise and retrain, and by transferring and developing knowledge.

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14

Wachsmann, Shelley, and Donald Sanders. "Reconstructing a late Archaic-period Dionysian ship cart." Zbornik radova Filozofskog fakulteta u Pristini 53, no.3 (2023): 135–69. http://dx.doi.org/10.5937/zrffp53-45389.

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The Greek deity Dionysos had a particular affinity for war galleys, a relationship perhaps explained by the Homeric Hymn to Dionysos in which Tyrsenian pirates kidnap him on their galley. Soon grape vines entangle the rigging and some of the pirates attempt to escape their fate by jumping into the sea: Dionysos transforms them into dolphins. This hymn served as an occasional motif in pagan art and may explain the miniaturized replicas of seagoing oared ships that played an integral role in the ancient Dionysian cult. These flimsy Dionysian ship carts moved overland in parades, either on wheels or upon the shoulders of celebrants. While the earliest examples may date to the Late Bronze Age, they are best known from a series of three late Archaic-period representations on black-figure skyphoi, now in museums in Athens, Bologna and London. No two Archaic-period Dionysian ship-cart representations are identical in all details. While perhaps due to painters' whims, this diversity in appearance may reflect changes to the ship carts at each annual appearance, analogous to modern-day parade floats. Due to the two-dimensional nature of these ship-cart images, it is impossible today to determine whether the Dionysian ship carts reflected in them consisted of actual vessels-purpose-built and placed on wagons during the procession, employed solely for the Dionysian celebrations-or floats in the form of miniaturized galleys. This paper supplies context and explains the process of creating a three-dimensional digital reconstruction of a generic Late Archaic-period Dionysian ship cart employing contemporaneous imagery and artifacts.

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15

Islam,M.A., S.M.S.Quli, and Tahir Mushtaq. "Wasteland reclamation strategy for household timber security of tribes in Jharkhand, India." Journal of Applied and Natural Science 9, no.4 (December1, 2017): 2264–71. http://dx.doi.org/10.31018/jans.v9i4.1522.

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The study sought to examine the timber dependency on forests and evolve wasteland reclamation strategy to eliminate the forest dependency in Bundu block of Ranchi District in Jharkhand, India. Multi-stage random sampling technique was applied to select 164 tribal households from 9 sample villages. Data were collected using structured interviews and non-participant observations which were analyzed using descriptive statistics viz., frequency, percentage, mean and range. Results revealed that forests contributed maximum timber (136.36 m3 annum-1) followed by traditional agroforestry (69.09 m3 annum-1), community forestry (41.33 m3 annum-1) and homestead forestry (35.71 m3 annum-1). Timber extracted is mostly consumed in housing (124.66 m3 annum-1) followed by agricultural implements (82.71 m3 annum-1), furniture (35.25 m3 annum-1), carts/ carriages (17.60 m3 annum-1), fencing (10.23 m3 annum-1), cattle shed/ store house (9.10 m3 annum-1) and others (2.94 m3 annum-1). Forests were exposed to timber pressure of 136.36 m3 annum-1 (48.27%) posing ample deforestation and degradation. The strategy consisted of timber and bamboo plantations is designed which would secure 1065.60 m3 annum-1 of timber, 0.455 lakh annum-1 of bamboo culms, 568.26 tons annum-1 of bamboo leaf and agricultural products. The strategy would yield income of Rs. 34210.78 household-1 annum-1 and employment of 67.15 person-days household-1 annum-1. Financial viability of proposed interventions has been worked out by meticulous economic calculations of Net Present Value, Benefit Cost Ratio and Internal Rate of Return. The execution of strategy would eliminate the current unsustainable timber extraction, safeguard the future timber predicament and ensure environmental security.

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Stefaniu, Luciana Fracasse, and LucianaC.FerreiraDiasRaimo. "O espaço urbano, o grafite e a identidade do sujeito catador." RUA 22, no.1 (June16, 2016): 19. http://dx.doi.org/10.20396/rua.v22i1.8646064.

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Considerando a problemática da constituição do sujeito no espaço urbano nos estudos de perspectiva discursiva, este trabalho busca refletir sobre os processos de textualização e circulação de carroças de catadores que foram repaginadas pelo projeto artístico “Pimp my carroça", idealizado pelo grafiteiro Tiago Mundano, que mescla a arte do grafite, crítica social e recursos de segurança. Buscamos compreender os efeitos de sentidos produzidos na/pela arte do grafite articulando o movimento do catador ao movimento da própria cidade.Abstract: Considering the problem of the constitution of the subject in the urban space in discursive perspective studies, this paper seeks to reflect on the textualization processes and circulation collectors carts that were repaginate the artistic project "Pimp my cart," designed by graffiti artist Thiago Mundano that mixes graffiti art, social critique and security features. We try to understand the effects of meanings produced in / by the graffiti art that articulates movement of the collector to move the city itself.Keywords: graffiti, city, urban discourse, collector of recyclable material´s identity.

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17

Kholeif, Omar. "Lubaina Himid." Nka: Journal of Contemporary African Art 2024, no.54 (May1, 2024): 6–23. http://dx.doi.org/10.1215/10757163-11205409.

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Dr Omar Kholeif maps out the life and practice of the path-breaking British-artist, Lubaina Himid RA CBE (born, Zanzibar 1954) through a considered engagement of her multivalent creative output—in visual art, writing, and exhibition-making. A leading figure in the British Black Arts Movement, Himid is renowned for her narrative paintings, which interrogate historical representations of Black people’s creativity—from the eighteenth century to the present day. Painted canvasses, cut-out figures, drawers, and found carts find home in exhibitions that reveal the artist’s engagement with opera, performance, and architecture. Kholeif notes that Himid’s expressions have heralded a distinct re-formulation of Black visuality, achieved through a re-imagining of Black life—framed through the lens of the present. In “Do You Want an Easy Life?” Kholeif pays special attention to the artist’s collaborative art making and argues that through these forays that Himid is concerned with “making space” for what official record and history often elides. Kholeif argues that Himid’s artistic realm is constructed through a form of “female worlding” that presages an intertextual palette for art and its history—one which demands crucial revision.

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18

Rutkoff,PeterM., and WilliamB.Scott. "Before the Modern: The New York Renaissance, 1876–95." Prospects 25 (October 2000): 281–310. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/s0361233300000673.

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On the evening of March 31, 1895, three hundred of New York City's most notable artists and patrons assembled in Madison Square Garden to honor Chicago architect Daniel H. Burnham. Led by Burnham, Chicago had bested New York in a hotly contested competition for sponsorship of the Columbian World Exposition that proudly exhibited the nation's Gilded Age accomplishments in art, architecture, and technology. Astride New York's most prestigious public square, Madison Square Garden might well have been built for the occasion. Arriving by carriages in livery, New York's fin de siècle elite, dressed in top hats, black ties, and tails, leisurely entered architect Stanford White's resplendent edifice, accompanied by their glitteringly attired female companions. Atop the Garden's Florentine tower rested a nude sculpture of Diana, Greek goddess of the hunt.

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19

Vergatti, Radu. "THE CHURCH OF THE BAIA DE ARAMĂ MONASTERY BETWEEN THE TRUTH AND THE TREASURE HUNTERS’ FANTASY." CaieteARA. Arhitectură. Restaurare. Arheologie, no.11 (2020): 151–62. http://dx.doi.org/10.47950/caieteara.2020.11.09.

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The church dedicated to the Holy Voivodes of the Baia de Aramă Monastery was built between 1699 and 1703. Its founders were the Great Ban Cornea Brăiloiu and the man of fortune Milco Băieşul. The church stands as an historical, art and architectural monument of the Brâncoveanu era. A fantastic legend has been created that beneath it the treasure of Wallachian prince Constantin Basarab Brâncoveanu was hidden..., which was not possible. At 3.5 meters below the church floor there is granite rock that cannot be dug. Also, 80 tons of gold could have been brought in about 160 carts, a situation that would have awakened the suspicion of the Sublime Porte. The attempts of the archaeologists who carried out the excavations, following this legend, with the approval of the Ministry of Culture, have destroyed the monument. Recently, a restoration has begun.

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20

Li, Jie. "A Comparative Aesthetics Analysis on Song Dynasty Lacquer Dish in the Form of Plum Blossoms with a Red-brushed Pattern of Two Phoenixes." Communications in Humanities Research 8, no.1 (October31, 2023): 148–53. http://dx.doi.org/10.54254/2753-7064/8/20230987.

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The Chinese artcraft in Song and Ming Dynasty set a standard that is understood as both unique and influential. Through comparative research, the lacquered Artcraft in East Asia and Europe would provide a holistic view of how Chinese lacquer art craft transferred through dynasties. Two Chinese crafts, Ming Yongle red-painted tea flower round plate and the Song dynasty Lacquer dish in the form of plum blossoms with a red-brushed pattern of two phoenixes are illustrated. It then presents a gilt-bronze inlaid lacquer vessel from France in the reign of Louis XV, made by the Japanese and European Lacquer Bureau, and one can see the great difference between it and the two previous ones made in China. It is inlaid on the top surface with figures, carriages, and horses, as well as with figures of mountains, rocks, and trees, with most of the figures concentrated on the left side, while the right side is left relatively empty of white space. It is argued that from several aspects, the comparison is worthwhile.

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21

Gertsen,AlexanderG.,., AntonA.Dushenko, and VladimirL.Ruev. "A Rock Art Panel near the Village of Krasnyi Mak in the Crimea." Materials in Archaeology, History and Ethnography of Tauria, no.XXVI (2021): 5–21. http://dx.doi.org/10.37279/2413-189x.2021.26.5-21.

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Since there are a very few monuments of the Stone and Bronze Age art found in the Crimea, the discovery of a new object of the kind is an important event for local archaeology. This paper addresses a recently discovered site, the complex of rock paintings located in the south-western area of the Crimean foothills, on the western slope of the mountain of Kyzyk-Kulak-Kaia, which is a part of the Second (Inner) Range of the Crimean Mountains, south of the village of Krasnyi Mak, Bakhchisarai District. The rock paintings appeared in a grotto in rock on the western precipice of the mountain. The surface of the rock houses three compositions comprising anthropomorphic figures, images of beasts, and symbolic pictures. By all appearance, rock paintings of Kyzyk-Kulak-Kaia feature migrations of a cattle-breeding tribe, driving of a herd of horses, and the scene of a ritual performed by a shaman. The complex of images contains the main chronological components, wheeled carts and horse-riders, dating the paintings to the period no earlier than the Bronze Age. The dating of this complex by analogies is possible with the attraction of both a few parallels from the Crimea and also the finds from Khakassia and the Southern Ural area. This publication has also analysed semantic similarities and differences with the images from other Crimean archaeological sites such as the stations of Tash-Air and Alimova Ravine, a cist from the vicinity of the village of Dolinnoe in the Bakhchisarai District, and relief pictures on the steles uncovered near the villages of Kazanki and Bakhchi-Eli.

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Xu, Rui, and Changying Li. "A Review of High-Throughput Field Phenotyping Systems: Focusing on Ground Robots." Plant Phenomics 2022 (June17, 2022): 1–20. http://dx.doi.org/10.34133/2022/9760269.

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Manual assessments of plant phenotypes in the field can be labor-intensive and inefficient. The high-throughput field phenotyping systems and in particular robotic systems play an important role to automate data collection and to measure novel and fine-scale phenotypic traits that were previously unattainable by humans. The main goal of this paper is to review the state-of-the-art of high-throughput field phenotyping systems with a focus on autonomous ground robotic systems. This paper first provides a brief review of nonautonomous ground phenotyping systems including tractors, manually pushed or motorized carts, gantries, and cable-driven systems. Then, a detailed review of autonomous ground phenotyping robots is provided with regard to the robot’s main components, including mobile platforms, sensors, manipulators, computing units, and software. It also reviews the navigation algorithms and simulation tools developed for phenotyping robots and the applications of phenotyping robots in measuring plant phenotypic traits and collecting phenotyping datasets. At the end of the review, this paper discusses current major challenges and future research directions.

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Cieślińska-Lobkowicz, Nawojka. "Predator. The Looting Activity of Pieter Nicolaas Menten (1899–1987)." Zagłada Żydów. Studia i Materiały, Holocaust Studies and Materials (December6, 2017): 112–47. http://dx.doi.org/10.32927/zzsim.712.

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The Nazi looting of works of art and cultural goods during 1933–1945 is usually divided into institutionalized and unauthorized, that is, wild one. The former was conducted by state and party special organizations and authorities, while the latter, widespread extensively in the east, was practiced by many Germans on their own account. The author suggests introducing a separate category of “specialized looting”, encompassing those who engaged in looting with full awareness – on their own account and/or on commission – and who were proficient in evaluation of the artistic goods and knew where and in whose possession they could be found. In the Reich and in occupied France and Holland there were many such expert robbers. In Poland their number remained small after the initial wave of official confiscations. The most notable exception was the Dutchman, Pieter Nicolaas Menten (1899–1987), who after the war became one of the wealthiest citizens of Holland and owner of a private art collection unavailable to the public. The scope, character, and methods of the looting conducted by Menten for his private use in Kraków and Lvov during the German occupation between early 1940 and the end of 1942 make him a very special case in the history of Nazi looting. These aspects are analyzed on the basis of extensive archival materials and evidence collected in Holland and Poland during the investigations and trials against Menten (the first one took place in the late 1940s and was followed by next ones in the late 1970s), who was accused of collaboration with the Germans and the massacre of Jewish inhabitants of the Galician villages of Urycz and Podhorodce in the summer of 1941. Menten was never sentenced for the looting of works of art in Kraków, where he was an appointed forced administrator of four Jewish artistic salons, or in Lvov, where he appropriated art collections and furnishings of several Lvov professors murdered on 4 July 1941. He was never found guilty even though when in January 1943 he left the General Government and went to Holland he took – with Himmler’s special permission – four railway carriages of valuable works of art, gold and silverware, antique furniture, and Oriental rugs. The post-war collection of works of art in Menten’s possession wasn’t liable to confiscation under Dutch law and has become dispersed.

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Troitskaya,N.A. "An Innovative Approach to Creation of New Types of Urban Passenger Transport." World of Transport and Transportation 20, no.1 (December17, 2022): 36–49. http://dx.doi.org/10.30932/1992-3252-2022-20-1-5.

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Currently, the population is increasingly concentrated in large cities and metropolitan areas, urban outskirts are being actively built up. According to sociologists, more than 80 % of the population will live in cities by 2025. Megacities are characterised by social tension associated with the transport and environmental situation, which is aggravated due to population growth, an increase in its density and an increase in the number of cars per capita.The «city–transport» system has feedback features. When the city will exhaust the capacity of the created transport system regarding rapid and convenient movement of passengers, it will be necessary to change the characteristics of urban transport vehicles up to creation of fundamentally new ones based on modern energy sources.Transport is a service industry and must meet the requirements of those who use it. For urban passenger transportation, the core thing is the quality of service.At all times, people had a desire to move around, using a variety of animals for this depending on the region of residence. Wealthy people had special carts, carriages, and animals in their property. Ordinary people travelled on foot, but with the growth of settlements and cities, they began to experience great difficulties in moving over long distances. The idea of creating public transport, i.e., available for use by any inhabitant for a moderate fee was formulated by the famous natural philosopher, mathematician, physicist, writer Blaise Pascal in 1661.This idea saw serious development later due to the intensive growth of cities and due to developments of scientists in the field of exact sciences.This review article has used research method which is the analysis of the history of emergence and development of each mode of transport in world and domestic practices, that has made it possible to trace evolution of urban transport up to the present day. The objective of this article is to present further evolution of the city’s transport service, which requires an innovative approach to creation of new modes of transport.The author’s research has been reflected in the relevant articles, as well as in the chapters on «Urban transport» of several textbooks.The article discusses an innovative approach to modernisation of existing urban vehicles and creation of new ones that will ensure environmental friendliness, accident-free operation, reduce the occupancy of the city, create comfortable conditions for transportation of passengers, etc. This provides for the widespread use of digital technologies, as well as of non-traditional transport systems.The prospective introduction of fundamentally new vehicles is considered and analysed using the examples of the experience of cities and megacities in Russia and abroad.

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Campbell,ElizabethA. "DON'T SAY IT WITH NIGHTSHADES: SENTIMENTAL BOTANY AND THE NATURAL HISTORY OFATROPA BELLADONNA." Victorian Literature and Culture 35, no.2 (June29, 2007): 607–15. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/s1060150307051662.

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THE VICTORIANS' PASSION FORplants has been well established as a defining feature of the period, and scholars from the humanities and the sciences – from literature, history, anthropology, botany, art, and religion – have lavishly documented how this obsession pervaded every aspect of nineteenth-century British life, creating what was truly the golden age for the “Culture of Flowers,” to borrow the title of Jack Goody's ethnobotanical study tracing traditional and ceremonial uses of flowers through history and around the globe. As Brent Elliott argues, improvements in greenhouse design beginning in 1817 and the use of the Wardian case from the 1830s for transporting plants by ship led to an unprecedented number of plant introductions to England, especially those intended for ornamental purposes (8–13). Decorative plants either of the indigenous, old-fashioned varieties or exotic new species were now widely available and visible everywhere – in vast public garden beds or small cottage plots; in pots or cut arrangements in the homes and on the window sills of the middle class and the well-to-do; in theaters, meeting halls, and fashionable shops; in churches for weddings, funerals, and holidays; in the boutonnieres of dandies and at the wrists, bosoms, and in the hair of ladies; for sale on the streets in flower carts and stalls; and in the shops of the burgeoning florist trade.

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Allen,AndrewJ. "Selected advances in small-angle scattering and applications they serve in manufacturing, energy and climate change." Journal of Applied Crystallography 56, no.3 (May29, 2023): 787–800. http://dx.doi.org/10.1107/s1600576723003898.

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Innovations in small-angle X-ray and neutron scattering (SAXS and SANS) at major X-ray and neutron facilities offer new characterization tools for researching materials phenomena relevant to advanced applications. For SAXS, the new generation of diffraction-limited storage rings, incorporating multi-bend achromat concepts, dramatically decrease electron beam emittance and significantly increase X-ray brilliance over previous third-generation sources. This results in intense X-ray incident beams that are more compact in the horizontal plane, allowing significantly improved spatial resolution, better time resolution, and a new era for coherent-beam SAXS methods such as X-ray photon correlation spectroscopy. Elsewhere, X-ray free-electron laser sources provide extremely bright, fully coherent, X-ray pulses of <100 fs and can support SAXS studies of material processes where entire SAXS data sets are collected in a single pulse train. Meanwhile, SANS at both steady-state reactor and pulsed spallation neutron sources has significantly evolved. Developments in neutron optics and multiple detector carriages now enable data collection in a few minutes for materials characterization over nanometre-to-micrometre scale ranges, opening up real-time studies of multi-scale materials phenomena. SANS at pulsed neutron sources is becoming more integrated with neutron diffraction methods for simultaneous structure characterization of complex materials. In this paper, selected developments are highlighted and some recent state-of-the-art studies discussed, relevant to hard matter applications in advanced manufacturing, energy and climate change.

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Freire, Luane Maciel, and Giovana Cardoso Versolatto. "O conceito "museu é o mundo" de Hélio Oiticica no projeto "Pimp my carroça" do grafiteiro Mundano." Jangada: crítica | literatura | artes, no.10 (April7, 2018): 33–52. http://dx.doi.org/10.35921/jangada.v0i10.80.

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RESUMO: Hélio Oiticica a partir da noção “museu é o mundo” ressalta a importância de se pensar as manifestações artísticas como pertencentes ao cotidiano e não somente a espaços específicos. Em confluência com esta perspectiva o projeto "Pimp my carroça", uma iniciativa do artista Mundano, busca valorizar o trabalho dos catadores de reciclável, ao grafitar suas carroças e através disso, transpor sua arte para a movimentação das ruas. Neste trabalho buscamos compreender como o projeto "Pimp my carroça" pode convergir com a ótica da concepção "museu é o mundo". Para tal, apresentamos o conceito de Oiticica, contextualizamos os objetivos do projeto do artista Mundano e por fim analisamos se as duas perspectivas compartilham seus intentos. Identificamos semelhanças nas duas iniciativas, Oiticica a partir de suas teorizações proporcionou, indiretamente, aporte ao projeto do grafiteiro Mundano. PALAVRAS-CHAVE: Hélio Oiticica, Mundano, museu é o mundo, Pimp my carroça. ____________________________________________ ABSTRACT : Hélio Oiticica, from the notion “museum is the world” highlights the importance of thinking artistic manifestations as belonging to the everyday life and not only specific places. In confluence with this perspective the project “Pimp my carroça”, an initiative by artist Mundano, seeks to value the work of recyclable waste pickers, by graffiting their carts and throught it, transpose his art to the streets movement. In this paper we seek to undestand how the project “Pimp my carroça” can converge in the view of the concept “museum is the world”. For such, we present Oiticica’s concept, contextualize the objectives of the artist Mundano’s project and finally analize if both perspectives share their intentions. We identified similarities in both iniciatives, Oiticica from his theorization provided, indirectly, contribution to gaffiti artist Mundano. KEYWORDS: Helio Oiticica, Mundano, Museum is the world, pimp my carroça.

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Frunt,O.S. "ON THE HISTORY OF SCYTHIAN POLE-TOPS STUDY." Archaeology and Early History of Ukraine 41, no.4 (October1, 2021): 199–214. http://dx.doi.org/10.37445/adiu.2021.04.16.

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Metal pole-tops of the 7th—4th centuries BC is one of the most wander materials associated with the tribes of the Eastern and Central Europe of the Scythian Age. However, opinions on their function are diverse. Now the pole-tops have a rather general name reflecting the purpose of these objects only approximately. Nevertheless, the study of these artifacts allow us to distinguish three periods: the first (1850—1940s), the second (1950—1980s) and the third (from the 1990s to the present). The first period (1950—1980s) begins with the excavations by I. E. Zabelin of steppe aristocratic barrows. In such barrows as Krasnokutsky, Slonovskaya Bliznitsa, Chertomlyk, a lot of Scythian pole-tops have been discovered. Thanks to localization of the finds in the burials I. E. Zabelin was able to suggest the function of these objects. He believed that the pole-tops could be the decoration of carts, nomadic tents on a chariot. The period is associated with the works of A. S. Lappo-Danilevsky, E. Minns, I. I. Tolstoy and N. P. Kondakov, J. Hampel, P. Reinicke, L. Marton et al. The result was summed up in the research of M. I. Rostovtsev. He supports the idea of a funerary vehicle and connects the origin of the finds with Hittite and Assyrian art, Transcaucasian tombs. In the second period (1950—1980s) there is a noticeable intensity of research on Scythian pole-tops, systematization of artifacts and the use of new approaches to the study. The typology proposed at this time is still used in research now. Almost all finds known at the end of the 70s were systematized in the paper by E. V. Perevodchikova. Different approaches were used in order to interpret the meaning of the pole-tops: as a part of the drawbar of a chariot (V. V. Shleev), shamanic musical instruments (K. Bakai), as the embodiment of the idea of a world tree which marks the ritual space (E. V. Perevodchikova, D. S. Raevsky). V. A. Ilyinskaya considered these artifacts to be multifunctional. The study of the chemical composition of the metal by T. B. Bartseva is important, since it demonstrates the existence of several production centers and sheds light on the origin of the finds. In the third period (from the 1990s to the present) the issue of the functional purpose and origin of the Scythian pole-tops was clarified. The scholars consider them the indicators, marking the arrival of Scythians in North Caucasus and North Pontic region (V. I. Klochko, V. Yu. Murzin, A. Yu. Alekseev, S. A. Skory, D. S. Grechko). T. V. Ryabkova connects the origin of the spherical pole-tops with the eastern territories considering these finds to be purely nomadic. N. L. Chlenova, M. M. Pogrebova, M. Castelluccia, R. Dan lead the line of origin of Scythian pole-tops from the rattles of Iran and Transcaucasia. The study of the technology of making bronze finds and their designs shows that they were cast on a lost wax model or in bivalve molds. In the interpretation of the function of Scythian pole-tops in the period of the 1990s—2010s the researchers depending on the context of discovery correlate these objects from burials with carts (Yu. V. Boltryk) or wooden poles that limited the ritual space for sacrifices (A. R. Kantorovich, V. R. Erlikh). H. Parzinger and S. Hasanov associate their use with shamanism. Thus, the history of the study of Scythian pole-tops made it possible to highlight topical issues. These are the origin and function, improvement of typology using new methods, clarification of chronology, correlation of the distribution of finds with key events in history in Eastern and Central Europe during the Scythian Age.

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Schoon,PeterJ. "Een notitieboekje van Philip Tiedeman (1657-1705)." Oud Holland - Quarterly for Dutch Art History 104, no.1 (1990): 31–45. http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/187501790x00020.

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AbstractBesides several paintings and drawings, the Amsterdam artist Philip Ticdcman (1657-1705) left two notebooks. This study is devoted to one of them, which is kept in the Rijksprentenkabinet in Amsterdam. In this document Tiedeman kept a record of the commissions he received between 1694 and 1697, often adding a brief description of the work, a hastily scribbled sketch and the customer's name. As well as these purely businesslike data, the artist also jotted down some extremely frank observations about himself and various people of his acquaintance. All this information enables us to form a more complete picture of Tiedeman, notably with regard to his ideas about art, his activities, his patrons and his person. As Houbraken tells us in his Groote Schouburgh, the teachers of the Hamburg-born artist were Nicolaes de Raes and Gerard de Lairesse. Tiedeman's studies with De Lairesse, which probably took place between about 1680 and 1683, with a follow-up in 1695, had a decisive influence on his artistic development. His notebook contains a variety of theoretical observations which echo De Lairesse's ideas as recorded in the Groot Schilderboek and the Grondlegginge ter Teekenkonst. In Tiedeman's opinion for instance, nature (nutura), art (ars) and practice (exercitatio) arc necessary for the making of a complete artist. He also thought that the painter should be a scholar, a pictor doctus. Tiedeman evidently cast himself in this role, judging by the marked attention his notebook pays to various iconographical and historical sources, including the Bible, Ripa's Iconologia, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey and Ovid's Metamorphoses. Although Tiedeman felt that artistic creation was largely an intellectual pursuit, this does not imply that he was inventive in devising his allegories. Studying the designs in his notebook, we see that his approach, in common with that of so many others, did not display great erudition: instead of gathering his information from different iconographical and historical works, he relied chiefly on Ripa's Iconologia. Tiedeman was influenced not only by his teacher's De Lairesse ideas but by his work as well. The commissions he recorded in his book show that he, too, painted ceilings and rooms and designed decorations for a wide range of objects such as fans, maps, carriages, fences, title-pages, wedding medals and tea-trays. His choice of subject-matter - he produced quite a lot of allegorical and mythological work - was entirely in keeping with the standards of his day. There was thus no lack of orders, most of which, as in the case of his teacher, came from private Amsterdam citizens. Among his patrons were wealthy merchants, many of whom were Baptists, as well as Amsterdam publishers, print and map sellers. Tiedeman's notebook is one of the few surviving seventeenth-century documents to provide a picture of the patron-artist relationship. It seems that the artist often had to cater to his customer's wishes. The information contained in the book not only gives us an idea of Tiedeman the artist but of the man himself. He did after all entrust fairly confidential information to his notebook. He emerges as a hard-working and in particular an arrogant man who nonetheless was acutely conscious of his own frustrations and deficiencies. He presents himself not only as a man burdened by his physical appearance and mental weakness, but also as the artist who, in his own words, 'by dint of constant diligence' and 'with Gods's help' had ensured that his work could be 'placed alongside the best of [his] age.' One wonders whether Tiedeman's notes were meant for his eyes only, or for others. Nothing suggests that the book was ever read by anyone else. but if not for other readers, why did he write it at all? Well, the notebook acted as an aide-mémoire to Tiedeman in his work. It was a means of letting off steam in trying circumstances, and gave him an opportunity to confess his own mistakes. Finally, as stated above, Tiedeman's work was much in demand, but little has survived. A pity, for Tiedeman's notebook would have greater appeal if we could see the final results of the concepts he jotted down in it. None of this detracts from the importance of the notebook in the Rijksprentenkabinet for affording us a glimpse of the daily round of an Amsterdam artist in the last quarter of the seventeenth century.

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Егорова,Ю.А., Т.А.Стрелкова, and О.И.Нестеренко. "History of the creation and development of the water supply in Samara." Vodosnabzhenie i sanitarnaia tehnika, no.9 (September13, 2021): 6–13. http://dx.doi.org/10.35776/vst.2021.09.01.

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Представлена история создания и развития водоснабжения в г. Самаре. Современному жителю большого города сейчас трудно понять, но на протяжении нескольких столетий Самара испытывала серьезные проблемы из-за хронической нехватки воды. В город, стоящий между двумя реками, воду ежедневно доставляли многочисленные водовозы на конных повозках в бочках и прочих емкостях. Самара была беспомощна перед регулярно вспыхивавшими в ней пожарами, от которых периодически город выгорал почти целиком. Такая ситуация продолжалась почти до конца XIX века. Попытки построить водопровод в Самаре были, но оказались неудачными. В 1881 г. в журнале «Зодчий» был объявлен конкурс на составление технического проекта устройства водоснабжения г. Самары, в июне 1883 г. на конкурс было представлено 11 проектов. После их обсуждения первую премию в 3000 руб. получил проект заведующего московскими водопроводами инженера Николая Петровича Зимина. Строительство самарского водопровода началось сразу же после подписания договора с компанией «Торговый дом братьев Бромлей и К°» на выполнение работ. И уже 1 октября 1886 г. началась подача воды на главные улицы города. Благодаря уникальным инженерным решениям Н. П. Зимина в Самаре стал действовать оборудованный по последнему слову техники первый в России противопожарный водопровод. В то время только некоторые города Европы имели это чудо техники. Сейчас история самарского водопровода насчитывает 135 лет. Для сохранения истории создания системы водоснабжения города с 13 июля 2018 г. на площадке Городской водопроводной станции действует музей истории самарского водопровода «На Дне». Современная водопроводная система городского округа Самара снабжает питьевой водой более 1,2 млн жителей. Развитие продолжается. The history of the creation and development of the water supply in Samara is presented. It is difficult for a modern resident of a large city to understand now; however, for several centuries Samara has experienced serious problems due to a persistent deficit of water. Numerous water carriers on horse-drawn carriages in barrels and other containers delivered water to the city located between two rivers. Samara was helpless before the fires that regularly flared up in it that resulted in almost entire city burning out. This situation preserved almost until the end of the 19th century. There were attempts, however unsuccessful, to build a water supply system in Samara. In 1881, the Zodchii magazine announced a competition to draw up a technical project for a water supply system for the city of Samara; in June 1883, 11 projects were submitted for the competition. After appropriate reviewing, the first prize of 3000 rubles was awarded to the project by engineer Nikolai Petrovich Zimin, the head of the Moscow water supply system. The construction of the Samara water supply system started immediately after the signing of an agreement with the company «Trading House of Brothers Bromley and Co.» for the execution of works. And already on October 1, 1886, the water supply to the main streets of the city began. Owing to the unique engineering solutions of N. P. Zimin, the first fire-fighting water supply system in Russia, equipped with a state-of-the-art-infrastructure was commissioned in Samara. At that time, only a few cities in Europe had this marvel of engineering. Now the history of the Samara water supply system goes back 135 years. To preserve the history of the creation of the municipal water supply system, «Na Dne» («At the Bottom») museum of the history of the Samara water supply system has been operating since July 13, 2018 at the premises of the municipal water treatment plant. The modern water supply system of the Samara urban district supplies drinking water to more than 1.2 million residents. Development continues.

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Fedenko, Alevtyna. "The importance of M. Kropyvnytskyi’s children’s theater for the formation of a professional musical children’s theater in Ukraine." Aspects of Historical Musicology 19, no.19 (February7, 2020): 332–45. http://dx.doi.org/10.34064/khnum2-19.19.

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Introduction and statement of the problem. Before the revolution of 1917, artists, writers, musicians and teachers created a rich literary fund that could be the basis for professional musical children’s theater in Ukraine. That is why there is a need to study the children’s musical and dramatic heritage of the past, which is an inexhaustible treasury of cultural and educational ideas that can be creatively developed and successfully applied in modern conditions. The process of creative development of the genre of children’s musical performance is today one of the most pressing problems of professional theater for children, take in account its growing popularity, both in the world and in Ukrainian musical culture. The lack of scientific research that fully and comprehensively cover the scientific and practical significance of musical children’s plays by Marko Kropyvnytskyi for the development of musical children’s theater in Ukraine indicates the need for more in-depth researching of the chosen topic. In our research, we rely on the works and articles of authoritative experts – in particular, I. Franko (1910), M. Voronyi (1913), D. Antonovich (1925), P. Rulin (1929), I. Mar’ianenko (1953), P. Kyrychok (1985), N. Yosipenko (1958), P. Perepelitsa (1956), A. Novikov (2007; 2011), L. Moroz (1990). The vast majority of researchers noted the great merits of the artist to the national drama in particular and Ukrainian culture in general. Among the scientific works devoted to Kropyvnytskyi as a children’s playwright, one can distinguish the research by A. Novikov (2007), which focuses on the history of creation of the first children’s troupe in the country, which had no analogues in the history of the world theater, since the actors in it were peasant children. In mentioned critical and scientific works, the innovative features of the playwright’s creative heritage are outlined, attention is focused on the specifics of the genre and problem-thematic range, literary-aesthetic, socio-political, and pedagogical views. The literary and theatrical activity of M. Kropyvnytskyi has been thoroughly studied. However, there is still no work that comprehensively reveal his musical and dramatic creativity for children. The purpose of the article is to show the significant role of M. Kropyvnytskyi in the development of children’s musical theater in Ukraine based on the research of children’s musical and dramatic creativity by the artist. The research methodology is integrative. The work uses knowledge of various fields of art history and related sciences: history and theory of theater, music theory, music and theater psychology, vocal and theater pedagogy. Presentation of the main material. A great pride of the playwright is the foundation by him on the territory of his village Zatyshok of the children’s theater, “actors” in which were his own and peasant children. This event was and remains unprecedented, since nothing like this has been observed in the history of Ukrainian and European culture. The troupe consisted of peasant children aged 10–13. For performances, Kropyvnytskyi assigned the largest room (hall) in the old house, where, as in a real theater, the stage was equipped. The first performance, “Goat-Dereza” (“Koza-dereza”), took place on Christmas day, 1906. The playwright drew the scenery himself, and prepared the costumes together with the children. The play was a great success. A few days later, the children’s troupe was invited to a “tour” in the neighboring village, and the entire theater with the scenery on five carts went on a journey of six versts (Novikov, 2007: 33). In the children’s repertoire at that time, there was, in fact, only one work – the opera by M. Lysenko “Goat-Dereza” (“Koza-dereza”) (libretto by Dniprova Chaika). Ukrainian children’s repertoire did not exist at that time, and in 1907, Kropyvnytskyi created two plays for young performers based on folk tales – “Ivasyk-Telesyk” and “At the behest of the pike” (“Po shchuchomu velinniu”). The performances included vocal numbers composed by M. Kropyvnytskyi on the themes of Ukrainian folk melodies. In a letter to his good friend entrepreneur A. Suslov in January 1908, the writer, in particular, notes: “I have assembled a troupe of peasant children and I am staging in the villages: Goat-dereza, IvasykTelesyk, and At the behest of the pike (the latter both are my)” (Kropyvnytskyi, 1960: 530). Based on the plot of folk tales of the same name, he wrote original musical and dramatic works for children of great educational value. The plays are quite simple in meaning and clearly depict the images of all the negative and positive characters. The first represent such social vices as lies and insincerity, and the second are carriers of eternal positive qualities – sincerity, candor, hard work. The plays are written in an exquisite Ukrainian language, close to the oral poetic creativity. All this, as M. Yosypenko rightly notes, is evidence of “a serious approach of M. Kropyvnytskyi to the business of writing plays for children, a deep knowledge of the psychology of the young audience and its cultural and educational needs and demands” (Yosypenko, 1958: 265). The performances require participation of music, which organic include into the language range of the play itself. Music explains and complements the true meaning of the situation to the young audience. Ukrainian musical folklore material formed the basis of the musical solution of M. Kropyvnytskyi’s children’s performances. Most often, folk songs served as a means to create the image and were introduce before the dramatic action mainly by the method of self-presentation: performing a particular song, the characters showed certain traits of their nature. The songs help to reveal the inner world of the characters, to express their state of mind and moods; often they contributed to the creation of the necessary stage atmosphere: festivities, fun and jokes. A significant part of the characters could not be imagined without songs. Using some folk melodies, Kropyvnytskyi mainly wrote original music, close in melody to the folk-song sources. Solo numbers, ensembles, and choirs are organically woven into the dramaturgy of these plays. A clear reflection of the integrity and unity of the musical and dramatic process is the principle of end-to-end development of the main musical idea of performances. In preparation for productions of his children’s plays, Kropyvnytskyi wrote an orchestration for them also. Intending to put these plays on the professional stage, Kropyvnytskyi wrote down advice to future directors regarding the production of their children’s plays. He began to think of broader horizons for them. In the spring of 1910, small artists had to show their art to the audience of the neighboring county town Kupyansk. However, the premature death of the Ukrainian playwright did not allow this plan to be realized. The children’s troupe soon ceased to exist. Kropyvnytskyi children’s troupe and the repertoire he created for it became a prologue to the development of the Ukrainian theater’s creativity for young viewers. In nowadays from the repertoire do not go off the pearls of drama for children “Ivasik-Telesik’ and “At the behest of the pike”. Conclusions. Marko Kropyvnytskyi’s creative heritage and practical activities wrote the gold pages to the history of Ukrainian musical children’s drama and Ukrainian children’s theater. Children’s musical and dramatic works of the writer based on song folklore are the effective mean to educate positive attitude of young Ukrainians to folk tradition as well as to form positive nature traits: generosity, hospitality, goodwill, charity.

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Wienberg, Jes. "Kanon og glemsel – Arkæologiens mindesmærker." Kuml 56, no.56 (October31, 2007): 237–82. http://dx.doi.org/10.7146/kuml.v56i56.24683.

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Canon and oblivion. The memorials of archaeologyThe article takes its point of departure in the sun chariot; the find itself and its find site at Trundholm bog where it was discovered in 1902. The famous sun chariot, now at the National Museum in Copenhagen, is a national treasure included in the Danish “Cultural Canon” and “History Canon”.The find site itself has alternated bet­ween experiencing intense attention and oblivion. A monument was erected in 1925; a new monument was then created in 1962 and later moved in 2002. The event of 1962 was followed by ceremonies, speeches and songs, and anniversary celebrations were held in 2002, during which a copy of the sun chariot was sacrificed.The memorial at Trundholm bog is only one of several memorials at archaeological find sites in Denmark. Which finds have been commemorated and marked by memorials? When did this happen? Who took the initiative? How were they executed? Why are these finds remembered? What picture of the past do we meet in this canon in stone?Find sites and archaeological memorials have been neglected in archaeology and by recent trends in the study of the history of archaeology. Considering the impressive research on monuments and monumentality in archaeology, this is astonishing. However, memorials in general receive attention in an active research field on the use of history and heritage studies, where historians and ethnologists dominate. The main focus here is, however, on war memorials. An important source of inspiration has been provided by a project led by the French historian Pierre Nora who claims that memorial sites are established when the living memory is threatened (a thesis refuted by the many Danish “Reunion” monuments erected even before the day of reunification in 1920).Translated into Danish conditions, studies of the culture of remembrance and memorials have focused on the wars of 1848-50 and 1864, the Reunion in 1920, the Occupation in 1940-45 and, more generally, on conflicts in the borderland bet­ween Denmark and Germany.In relation to the total number of memorials and public meeting places in Denmark, archaeological memorials of archaeology are few in number, around 1 % of the total. However, they prompt crucial questions concerning the use of the past, on canon and oblivion.“Canon” means rule, and canonical texts are the supposed genuine texts in the Bible. The concept of canon became a topic in the 1990s when Harold Bloom, in “The Western Canon”, identified a number of books as being canonical. In Denmark, canon has been a great issue in recent years with the appearance of the “Danish Literary Canon” in 2004, and the “Cultural Canon” and the “History Canon”, both in 2006. The latter includes the Ertebølle culture, the sun chariot and the Jelling stone. The political context for the creation of canon lists is the so-called “cultural conflict” and the debate concerning immigration and “foreigners”.Canon and canonization means a struggle against relativism and oblivion. Canon means that something ought to be remembered while something else is allowed to be forgotten. Canon lists are constructed when works and values are perceived as being threatened by oblivion. Without ephemerality and oblivion there is no need for canon lists. Canon and oblivion are linked.Memorials mean canonization of certain individuals, collectives, events and places, while others are allowed to be forgotten. Consequently, archaeological memorials constitute part of the canonization of a few finds and find sites. According to Pierre Nora’s thesis, memorials are established when the places are in danger of being forgotten.Whether one likes canon lists or not, they are a fact. There has always been a process of prioritisation, leading to some finds being preserved and others discarded, some being exhibited and others ending up in the stores.Canonization is expressed in the classical “Seven Wonders of the World”, the “Seven New Wonders of the World” and the World Heritage list. A find may be declared as treasure trove, as being of “unique national significance” or be honoured by the publication of a monograph or by being given its own museum.In practice, the same few finds occur in different contexts. There seems to be a consensus within the subject of canonization of valuing what is well preserved, unique, made of precious metals, bears images and is monumental. A top-ten canon list of prehistoric finds from Denmark according to this consensus would probably include the following finds: The sun chariot from Trundholm, the girl from Egtved, the Dejbjerg carts, the Gundestrup cauldron, Tollund man, the golden horns from Gallehus, the Mammen or Bjerringhøj grave, the Ladby ship and the Skuldelev ships.Just as the past may be used in many different ways, there are many forms of memorial related to monuments from the past or to archaeological excavations. Memorials were constructed in the 18th and 19th centuries at locations where members of the royal family had conducted archaeology. As with most other memorials from that time, the prince is at the centre, while antiquity and archaeology create a brilliant background, for example at Jægerpris (fig. 2). Memorials celebrating King Frederik VII were created at the Dæmpegård dolmen and at the ruin of Asserbo castle. A memorial celebrating Count Frederik Sehested was erected at Møllegårdsmarken (fig. 3). Later there were also memorials celebrating the architect C.M. Smith at the ruin of Kalø Castle and Svend Dyhre Rasmussen and Axel Steensberg, respectively the finder and the excavator of the medieval village at Borup Ris.Several memorials were erected in the decades around 1900 to commemorate important events or persons in Danish history, for example by Thor Lange. The memorials were often located at sites and monuments that had recently been excavated, for example at Fjenneslev (fig. 4).A large number of memorials commemorate abandoned churches, monasteries, castles or barrows that have now disappeared, for example at the monument (fig. 5) near Bjerringhøj.Memorials were erected in the first half of the 20th century near large prehistoric monuments which also functioned as public meeting places, for example at Glavendrup, Gudbjerglund and Hohøj. Prehistoric monuments, especially dolmens, were also used as models when new memorials were created during the 19th and 20th centuries.Finally, sculptures were produced at the end of the 19th century sculptures where the motif was a famous archaeological find – the golden horns, the girl from Egtved, the sun chariot and the woman from Skrydstrup.In the following, this article will focus on a category of memorials raised to commemorate an archaeological find. In Denmark, 24 archaeological find sites have been marked by a total of 26 monuments (fig. 6). This survey is based on excursions, scanning the literature, googling on the web and contact with colleagues. The monuments are presented chronological, i.e. by date of erection. 1-2) The golden horns from Gallehus: Found in 1639 and 1734; two monu­ments in 1907. 3) The Snoldelev runic stone: Found in c. 1780; monument in 1915. 4) The sun chariot from Trundholm bog: Found in 1902; monument in 1925; renewed in 1962 and moved in 2002. 5) The grave mound from Egtved: Found in 1921; monument in 1930. 6) The Dejbjerg carts. Found in 1881-83; monument in 1933. 7) The Gundestrup cauldron: Found in 1891; wooden stake in 1934; replaced with a monument in 1935. 8) The Bregnebjerg burial ground: Found in 1932; miniature dolmen in 1934. 9) The Brangstrup gold hoard. Found in 1865; monument in 1935.10-11) Maglemose settlements in Mulle­rup bog: Found in 1900-02; two monuments in 1935 and 1936. 12) The Skarpsalling vessel from Oudrup Heath: Found in 1891; monument in 1936. 13) The Juellinge burial ground: Found in 1909; monument in 1937. 14) The Ladby ship: Found in 1935; monument probably in 1937. 15) The Hoby grave: Found in 1920; monument in 1939. 16) The Maltbæk lurs: Found in 1861 and 1863; monument in 1942. 17) Ginnerup settlement: First excavation in 1922; monument in 1945. 18) The golden boats from Nors: Found in 1885; monument in 1945. 19) The Sædinge runic stone: Found in 1854; monument in 1945. 20) The Nydam boat: Found in 1863; monument in 1947. 21) The aurochs from Vig: Found in 1904; monument in 1957. 22) Tollund Man: Found in 1950; wooden stake in 1968; renewed inscription in 2000. 23) The Veksø helmets: Found in 1942; monument in 1992. 24) The Bjæverskov coin hoard. Found in 1999; monument in 1999. 25) The Frydenhøj sword from Hvidovre: Found in 1929; monument in 2001; renewed in 2005. 26) The Bellinge key: Found in 1880; monument in 2003.Two monuments (fig. 7) raised in 1997 at Gallehus, where the golden horns were found, marked a new trend. From then onwards the find itself and its popular finders came into focus. At the same time the classical or old Norse style of the memorials was replaced by simple menhirs or boulders with an inscription and sometimes also an image of the find. One memorial was constructed as a miniature dolmen and a few took the form of a wooden stake.The finds marked by memorials represent a broader spectrum than the top-ten list. They represent all periods from the Stone Age to the Middle Ages over most of Denmark. Memorials were created throughout the 20th century; in greatest numbers in the 1930s and 1940s, but with none between 1968 and 1992.The inscriptions mention what was found and, in most cases, also when it happened. Sometimes the finder is named and, in a few instances, also the person on whose initiative the memorial was erected. The latter was usually a representative part of the political agency of the time. In the 18th and 19th centuries it was the royal family and the aristocracy. In the 20th century it was workers, teachers, doctors, priests, farmers and, in many cases, local historical societies who were responsible, as seen on the islands of Lolland and Falster, where ten memorials were erected between 1936 and 1951 to commemorate historical events, individuals, monuments or finds.The memorial from 2001 at the find site of the Frydenhøj sword in Hvidovre represents an innovation in the tradition of marking history in the landscape. The memorial is a monumental hybrid between signposting and public art (fig. 8). It formed part of a communication project called “History in the Street”, which involved telling the history of a Copenhagen suburb right there where it actually happened.The memorials marking archaeological finds relate to the nation and to nationalism in several ways. The monuments at Gallehus should, therefore, be seen in the context of a struggle concerning both the historical allegiance and future destiny of Schleswig or Southern Jutland. More generally, the national perspective occurs in inscriptions using concepts such as “the people”, “Denmark” and “the Danes”, even if these were irrelevant in prehistory, e.g. when the monument from 1930 at Egtved mentions “A young Danish girl” (fig. 9). This use of the past to legitimise the nation, belongs to the epoch of World War I, World War II and the 1930s. The influence of nationalism was often reflected in the ceremonies when the memorials were unveiled, with speeches, flags and songs.According to Marie Louise Stig Sørensen and Inge Adriansen, prehistoric objects that are applicable as national symbols, should satisfy three criteria. The should: 1) be unusual and remarkable by their technical and artistic quality; 2) have been produced locally, i.e. be Danish; 3) have been used in religious ceremonies or processions. The 26 archaeological finds marked with memorials only partly fit these criteria. The finds also include more ordinary finds: a burial ground, settlements, runic stones, a coin hoard, a sword and a key. Several of the finds were produced abroad: the Gundestrup cauldron, the Brangstrup jewellery and coins and the Hoby silver cups.It is tempting to interpret the Danish cultural canon as a new expression of a national use of the past in the present. Nostalgia, the use of the past and the creation of memorials are often explained as an expression of crisis in society. This seems reasonable for the many memorials from 1915-45 with inscriptions mentioning hope, consolation and darkness. However, why are there no memorials from the economic crisis years of the 1970s and 1980s? It seems as if the past is recalled, when the nation is under threat – in the 1930s and 40s from expansive Germany – and since the 1990s by increased immigration and globalisation.The memorials have in common local loss and local initiative. A treasure was found and a treasure was lost, often to the National Museum in Copenhagen. A treasure was won that contributed to the great narrative of the history of Denmark, but that treasure has also left its original context. The memorials commemorate the finds that have contributed to the narrative of the greatness, age and area of Denmark. The memorials connect the nation and the native place, the capital and the village in a community, where the past is a central concept. The find may also become a symbol of a region or community, for example the sun chariot for Trundholm community and the Gundestrup cauldron for Himmerland.It is almost always people who live near the find site who want to remember what has been found and where. The finds were commemorated by a memorial on average 60 years after their discovery. A longer period elapsed for the golden horns from Gallehus; shortest was at Bjæverskov where the coin hoard was found in March 1999 and a monument was erected in November of the same year.Memorials might seem an old-fashioned way of marking localities in a national topography, but new memorials are created in the same period as many new museums are established.A unique find has no prominent role in archaeological education, research or other work. However, in public opinion treasures and exotic finds are central. Folklore tells of people searching for treasures but always failing. Treasure hunting is restricted by taboos. In the world of archaeological finds there are no taboos. The treasure is found by accident and in spite of various hindrances the find is taken to a museum. The finder is often a worthy person – a child, a labourer or peasant. He or she is an innocent and ordinary person. A national symbol requires a worthy finder. And the find occurs as a miracle. At the find site a romantic relationship is established between the ancestors and their heirs who, by way of a miracle, find fragments of the glorious past of the nation. A paradigmatic example is the finding of the golden horns from Gallehus. Other examples extend from the discovery of the sun chariot in Trundholm bog to the Stone Age settlement at Mullerup bog.The article ends with a catalogue presenting the 24 archaeological find sites that have been marked with monuments in present-day Denmark.Jes WienbergHistorisk arkeologiInstitutionen för Arkeologi och ­Antikens historiaLunds Universitet

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Tumurbaatar, Tuvshinjargal, and Ankhsanaa Ganbold. "Representation of early cattle carts in Mongolian petroglyphs." Studia Archaeologica, June30, 2023, 92–107. http://dx.doi.org/10.5564/sa.v42i1.2822.

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Wheeled transport using cattle and other large bovids is a core element of pastoral tradition in some areas of eastern Eurasia, and recent archaeological data suggests that cattle transport likely served as the earliest form of animal transit in the eastern reaches of the Eurasian steppe. While many rock art images of early cattle show activities such as riding or pack-carrying and horse carts/chariots are common in late Bronze Age imagery, however, almost no direct evidence characterizes the use of wheeled cattle-drawn carts in the region’s archaeological record. In this paper, we synthesize archaeological evidence for cattle-drawn vehicles in ancient Mongolia, including both newly-discovered and previously published petroglyphs. Our results suggest that during the Early Bronze Age (3rd millennium BCE), four wheeled carts likely were pulled by cattle. These images show chronological patterning in their style of depiction, with Early to Late Bronze Age vehicles depicted in dorsal, top-down view, and later images linked to the Early Iron Age and early pastoral empires shown in lateral profile. By the second half of the 2nd millennium BC, rock art imagery shows horses widely used to pull chariots and occupied a special place in social life and with a human consciousness due to their speed which might have caused the scarcity of cattle cart depiction in petroglyphs. In Eurasia since the Early Bronze Age, carts were an important part of burial rituals for most historic periods, and it is likely that some carts depicted in rock paintings are also linked with ritual activity. Хадны зураг дахь үхэр тэрэгний дүрслэл Товчлол. Монгол улсын бүс нутгийн хүрээнд үхэр тэрэгний үүсэл, хөгжил болон эртний баримт хэрэглэгдэхүүний талаар тухайлан өгүүлсэн нь үгүй бөгөөд магадгүй хадны зураг дахь үхэр тэрэгний дүрслэл нь морин тэрэгтэй харьцуулахад маш цөөн тоотой илэрч олдсон байдаг тул судлаачдын анхаарлыг тэр бүр татдаггүй байж болох талтай. Энэ удаад бид Монгол улсын нутгаас илэрч олдоод буй хадны зураг дахь 18 үхэр тэрэгний зургийг нэгтгэн авч үзсэн бөгөөд үүнд үхэр тэрэгний хөгжлийн эхэн үе буюу түрүү болон хөгжингүй хүрлийн үеийн 3 (?), хожуу хүрлийн 4, түрүү төмөр болон эртний улсуудын үед холбогдох 8 дурсгалт газрын 11 хадны зургийн үхэр тэрэгний талаар өгүүлэв. Судалгааны үр дүнгээс харахад дэлхий нийтэд тэрэг анх дэлгэрсэн он цагаас төдий л хожуугүй буюу НТӨ III мянган жилийн эхэн үеэс Алтайн бүс нутагт тархсан Афанасьев болон Хэмцэгийн соёлт ард түмэн үхэр тэргийг энэ бүс нутагт анхлан ашиглах болсон байх дүр зураг харагдаж байна. Харин хожуу хүрлийн үе буюу НТӨ II мянганы сүүл хагас НТӨ I мянган жилийн эхэн үеэс хөнгөн тэргэнд адуу хөллөх явдал түгээмэл дэлгэрсэн учир үхрийг тэргэнд хөллөх эсвэл үхэр тэргийг хаданд сийлэх нь ховор байжээ. Хүннү болон эртний улсуудын үеэс босоо мухлагтай эсвэл сүйх тэргэнд адуунаас гадна үхэр хөллөх болсон ба нүүдэлчдийн хөдөлгөөнт амьдралын хэв маягт зохицсон гэр хэлбэрийн жижиг мухлагтай тэрэгний хэлбэр ч энэ үеэс бий болж улмаар Монголын эзэнт гүрний үед олон үхэр хөллөдөг нүсэр том гэр тэргийг ашиглах болжээ. Эцэст нь тэмдэглэхэд Евразийн бүс нутагт аль түрүү хүрлийн үеэс эхлэн түүхэн ихэнх цаг үед тэрэг нь оршуулгын зан үйлийн нэгэн чухал бүрдэлдэхүүнд багтаж байсан бөгөөд үүний илрэл нь хадны зургийн зарим тэрэгний дүрслэлд ч тусгагдсан байх магадлалтай байна. Түлхүүр үг: Үхэр тэрэг, гэр тэрэг, хадны зураг, түрүү хүрлийн үе, хожуу хүрлийн үе, хүннүгийн үе

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Bekeshov,S.S. "Historiography of kazakh traditional wood carving." Journal of history 100, no.1 (2021). http://dx.doi.org/10.26577/jh.2021.v100.i1.010.

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This article examines the main elements of the subject and spiritual culture of the Kazakh traditional wooden ornament. The study examines the primordially preserved original wood products and crafts of carpenters of the 18th – early 20th centuries. Review of the works of the peoples of Central Asia on the art of woodcarving, design and decoration. Including «Kazakh yurt» by M. S. Mukanov, voluminous research work of H. Argynbaev «Craft of the Kazakh people», «The culture of Kazakh crafts» by Zhanibekov, «Folk decorative and applied art of Kazakhs» which was written by ethnographer and researcher N.A. Orazbayeva, S. Kasimanova «Crafts of the Kazakh people» demonstrates the technology of processing wood and types of ornaments, «Kazakh ornament» by K. Ibraeva, «Kazakh folk ornament» by T.K. Basenova. In the significant work of U.Kydyralin “The traditional economy of the Mangistau Kazakhs” in the section «Handiwork related to home craft» male and female crafts are scientifically differentiated, the authors considered the techniques of craftsmen. Their creative heritage includes household items, dishes, carts, chariots, saddles and objects related to customs and traditions. These exhibits became the basis for special research and scientific analysis. In addition to important research objects, methods and techniques of wood carving, preserved in a certain form in products, are also the result of studying the tools of craftsmen. The study examines the art of woodcarving as a whole, in the context of traditional Kazakh culture, the main directions of its development from the point of view of every day and funeral customs. Key words: wood, ornamentation, carving, Kazakhs, handicrafts.

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Rogenhofer, Nina, Arseni Markoff, Xenia Ennerst, Nadja Bogdanova, and Christian Thaler. "Maternal and paternal carriage of the annexin A5 M2 haplotype: a possible risk factor for recurrent implantation failure (RIF)." Journal of Assisted Reproduction and Genetics, November24, 2020. http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10815-020-01978-1.

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Abstract Objective This study was carried out to determine the potential role of the M2/ANXA5 haplotype as a risk factor for recurrent implantation failure (RIF). Carriage of the M2/ANXA5 haplotype that induces prothrombotic changes has been implicated in failure of early pregnancies and placenta-mediated complications (preeclampsia, IUGR, preterm birth). Material and methods In the present case control study, 63 couples (females and males) with RIF presenting for IVF/ICSI to the Fertility Center of [masked] were analyzed. RIF was defined as ≥ 4 consecutive failed ART-transfers of ≥ 4 blastocysts or ≥ 8 cleavage-stage embryos of optimal quality and maternal age ≤ 41. Fertile female controls (n = 90) were recruited from the same center. Population controls (n = 533) were drafted from the PopGen biobank, UKSH Kiel. Results Couples carrying the M2/ANXA5 haplotype turned out to have a significantly increased relative risk (RR) for RIF. Compared with female fertile controls, RR was 1.81 with p = 0.037 (OR 2.1, 95%CI 1.0–4.3) and RR was 1.70, with p = 0.004 (OR 2.0, 95%CI 1.2–3.1) compared with population controls (15.4% M2 carriers). Male partners were comparable with RIF females for M2/ANXA5 haplotypes (28.6% vs. 23.8%, p = 0.54). RIF females compared with population controls had a RR of 1.55 (p = 0.09) and RIF males compared with population controls had a RR of 1.9 (p = 0.01). Couples with ≥ 7 failed transfers showed a RR of 1.82 (p = 0.02) compared with population controls. Conclusion Our findings suggest that maternal as well as paternal M2/ANXA5 haplotype carriages are risk factors for RIF. These results allow new insights into the pathogenesis of RIF and might help to identify relevant risk groups.

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Laba, Martin. "Culture as Action." M/C Journal 3, no.2 (May1, 2000). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1837.

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Culture is a mercurial concept -- volatile, contested, and somehow, less than the sum of its parts. Its anthropology, it can be argued, was rooted in an exoticising scholarship typical of the late 19th-century colonialist ruminations on all things "other"; in contemporary terms of course, this exoticising tendency would be termed, as it should, "Orientalist". Still, there is something more than merely residual in the persistence of a notion of culture as a summary, as a package of knowledge and practice, as a name for identity, or even politics, all of which draw clearly from the well of Edward B. Tylor's bold attempt to terminologically and conceptually capture "the most complex whole", a people's entire way of life (albeit non-white, non-literate, non-western people) from what we can trust were the considerable comforts of his armchair. This Tylorean notion of culture, as Clifford Geertz once suggested, leads to a "conceptual morass" that "obscures a great deal more than it reveals" (4). Another definitional foundation of culture for consideration is the philosophical tradition of German Idealism. Culture as a process of aesthetic education was for Friedrich Schiller a means of progressing from a state of nature to a state of reason without the destruction of nature. Schiller offered a critique of Kant's account of the development of reason (the achievement of the state of rationality as key to the education and progress of humanity) as necessarily predicated on the containment and ultimately, the destruction of nature (against the chaos and moral abyss that is nature). Schiller argued for the capacity of art to infuse nature with morality, to serve as an intermediary of sorts, between chaotic nature and the structures of pure reason. It is the cultivation of moral character -- Bildung -- that is the foundation of this capacity, and that defines the nature and purpose of "culture" as a process of aesthetic education. There were two influential trajectories that seem inspired by this philosophical source. First, there was an important sense from the German Idealists that culture was a determining principle of nation (the nation-state is achieved through Bildung, through cultivation), and accordingly, culture was understood as the source of nationhood. Second, culture took on the sense of moral authority, an Arnoldian equation of culture with high culture and a concomitant mistrust of all things democratic and popular, which debase and ultimately threaten the authority of high culture. Raymond Williams's reinterpretation of culture merits attention because of its departure from previous traditions of defining culture, and because it is a useful foundation for the view of culture proposed later in this discussion. Williams offered a detailed historical analysis of the reasons for the under-theorisation of the British labour movement, and the glaring dislocation of the English proletariat from the ideas, the concepts, the political theory of capitalism. Actual working classes in Britain, the "lived culture" of workers, fit neither into broad political theoretical currents, nor into an examination of workers as elements in a historical process -- this lived culture defied the embrace of political analysis. Williams argued for a more anthropological view of culture, and decisively shifted the concept away from the British literary-cultural tradition, away from Arnold's "high culture", to a view of culture as a whole way of life, and open to the vision and the possibilities of social integration, popular classes, and popular struggles in ordinary, everyday life. Williams argued compellingly for the "ordinariness" of culture. As Bill Readings notes, "Williams's insistence that culture is ordinary was a refusal to ignore the actual working classes in favor of the liberated proletarians who were to be their successors after the revolution" (92). In this sense, culture confounds political theory -- or to stretch the point, culture confounds systematic theorising. In a similar vein, and in a classic of anthropological inquiry, Clifford Geertz argued that the analysis of culture was "not an experimental science in search of law, but an interpretive one in search of meaning" (4). Such an "interpretive" project demands above all, that that the analyst is also a participant in a dimension of the culture she/he is describing. I want to consider two of Geertz's assertions in his interpretive theory of culture to frame my proposal for a concept of culture-as-action. Geertz maintained that cultural analysis is guesswork rather than systematic theorising, which he regarded as a manipulation or reconstruction of reality through analytical practices in search of elegant schemata. Cultural analysis is "guessing at meanings, assessing the guesses, and drawing explanatory conclusions from the better guesses, not discovering the Continent of Meaning and mapping out its bodiless landscape" (20). Clearly, Geertz trained his critical sights on anthropological trends to extrapolate from material data singularly coherent, even symmetrical systems, orders, properties, and universals in a method that wants to imitate, but is not science. Interpretation resists scientism. In a second assertion, Geertz argued that any sustained symbolic action -- the stuff of culture -- is "saying something of something" (448-53). While this assertion appears disarmingly simple, it is profound in its implications. It points to the possibility that cultural analysis, if it is to grasp and interpret layered, textured, and often thoroughly complex significations, must attend to "semantics" rather than "mechanics"; the representation of the substance of culture, its symbolic expressive forms and its unfolding action, rather than the insinuation, or even the bold declaration of systems and formulas, however elegant, of cultural patterns and process. The concern in interpretation -- a form of representation -- is that "a good interpretation of anything -- a poem, a person, a history, a ritual, an institution, a society -- takes us into the heart of that of which it is the interpretation" (18). To describe culture is to attend to action -- actual and resonant -- and such descriptions representations have responsibility; specifically, they must seek to grasp and portray social discourse and its possible meanings in ways that allow symbolic action -- the vocabulary of culture -- to speak on its own behalf. We arrived back in Lahore after a day's journey by jeep over the bone-dry and dusty roads of rural Punjab. The air was a toxic soup, and the heat was crushing, as it always is in Pakistan in monsoon season. The interior of the vehicle was an oven, and I was feeling sealed and cooked, even with all the windows open. My friend and driver, Ashicksahib and I were soaked with sweat from the journey, and we were eager to finally get out of the jeep as we pulled into the city in the late afternoon. I had been through a half dozen bottles of water, but I still felt dizzy with dehydration. I knew that this day was the celebration of Mohammed's birthday, and while I expected many people on the streets, I was unprepared for the magnitude of the event that was taking place. The crowds consumed us. We crawled along until we couldn't continue. The jeep had to stop as the sea of celebrants became denser and denser inside the city, and Ashicksahib shrugged his massive shoulders, smiled at me from under his thick white moustache, wiped his neck with a sodden cloth, and said in Urdu, "That's it, we cannot move, there's nowhere for us to go. We must be patient." I had never seen this much humanity gathered in a single place before. There were only boys and men of course, thousands and thousands of them moving along in joyous procession -- on foot, piled on platforms of flatbed trucks, stuffed into rickshaws, two or three sharing scooters and bicycles. The usual animal multitudes -- herds of water buffalo, goats, some camels, the ubiquitous miserable and thread- bare donkeys with their carts -- all stood passively in the midst of the chaos, too exhausted or too confused to register any instinctive response. Blasting loudspeakers competed from a hundred different directions, chants and patriotic music, prayers and devotional declarations, the staccato delivery of fundamentalist pedagogy and the improvised reveries of individuals with small bullhorns. The soft drink vendors shouted to the crowds to make way as they spun their carts around over and over again, and darted off into fray. I brought out my camera, and because the noise was deafening, I mimed to Ashicksahib my intention to take some photos from the roof of the jeep. He motioned with an affirmative sweep of his hand and the typical and essential south Asian head roll, and I pried open the door and squeezed out against the celebrants pressed up to the side of the jeep. I hoisted myself onto the roof and sat cross-legged to steady myself for some wide- angle shots of the celebrations. I had some concern over my obviousness -- white and western -- but everyone who saw me shouted greetings in Urdu or Punjabi, waved and smiled, and young boys ran up very close to the jeep to see what I was up to. I heard Ashicksahib laughing, and all seemed safe -- until the squadrons of Sunni fundamentalists caught sight of me as their trucks crawled by in a formation that seemed remarkably disciplined and militaristic in the direct contrast to the emotionalism and formlessness of the event. Like the wave in a sports stadium, the young men stood up one by one on the back of the trucks, their green turbans cut into the indefinite wash of a grey, polluted sky, their eyes searching until they fixed on me, now exposed and vulnerable on the roof of the jeep. And quickly they leapt from their trucks like a SWAT team responding crisply to a crisis, precise and efficient, jaws clenched, cocked for action. I saw them first through the lens of my camera, and uttered an expletive or two appropriate to the situation. I knew I was in trouble, and clearly, I had nowhere to go. The turbans formed a green ribbon winding through the mass. As they approached, the eyes of the militants were trained on me with the focus of a predator about to take down its prey. I slipped back into the jeep through the window, and motioned for Ashicksahib to look over the crowd and see the slow and steady movement of the green turbans toward us. His smile vanished instantly, and he readied himself for confrontation. When the first militant reached the jeep's window, Ashicksahib's entire body was taut and urgent, like a finger twitching on the trigger of a pistol. "American! American! No photo! No photo!" The leader of the group shouted at me in English and began to bang the side of the jeep. Ten or twelve young men, eyes flaring under their turbans, screamed at me and joined in the assault on the jeep. Ashicksahib had waited for a particular moment, it occurred to me later, a certain point in the rising arc of tension and emotion. He opened his door, but did not leave the jeep. Instead he stood on the step on the driver's side, half in and half out, slowly unfurled his considerable frame to its full height, and began his verbal assault. He stood on his perch above the action and in a play of passions, he shouted his opponents into submission. There were a few physical sorties by the militants, attempts to kick the door of the jeep into Ashicksahib, but these were displays, and Ashicksahib kicked back only once. And suddenly they wavered, an erosion of spirit evidenced in their eyes, a bending to the force roaring above them. They gave up their attempts to grab my camera, to gain entry to the jeep, and with a swift gesture of his hand, the leader called his small army into retreat. This same festival that mobilised great masses of people in celebration, that enacted the inextricableness of nationalist and Pakistani Muslim commitment and identity, that on the surface appeared to articulate and demonstrate a collective belief and purpose, also dramatised conflictive divisions and the diverse interpretations of what it means to be a Pakistani, a Muslim, a Punjabi, an Indus person, a Lahori, a poor person, a person of means, and numerous other identities at stake. As an obvious westerner in the midst of the event, I was variously ignored, warmly greeted as a friendly foreigner, or accosted as an unwelcome interloper, each interaction unfolding within a broader and deeper passionate ritual which for some meant play and celebration, and for others meant a serious and forceful demonstration of affiliation, faith, and nationalism. I had been working in both village and urban contexts on issues and strategies around communication/education and advocacy with South Asia Partnership-Pakistan, a non-government organisation based in Lahore that was engaged in front-line work for social change. The organisation was driven by the pursuit of the principles of civil society, and on a daily basis, it contended with the brutal contradictions to those principles. Its work was carried out against a bulwark of poverty and fundamentalism that seemed impenetrable, and this moment of imminent confrontation resonated with the complex historical, cultural, and political dynamics of identity, religion, nationalism, colonialism, and a seething cauldron of south Asian geopolitics. As Paulo Freire argued that world views are manifested in actions that offer insight into broader and prevailing social and political conditions, so Geertz maintained that societies "contain their own interpretations". This was not essentialism -- there were none of the conceits or romanticism of essentialist readings of the commonplace as encapsulated social and political axioms. Rather, these views were a call for analytical honesty, a participatory and political dimension to cultural analysis that works to gain some access to these "interpretations" by encountering and apprehending culture in forms of action. Cultural analysis becomes a kind of trial-by-fire, a description from a viewpoint of participatory engagement. By "participatory", I mean everything that the bloodlessness and obfuscation of so much of Cultural Studies is not -- an actual stake in action and consequence in a real world of politics. The interpretation of culture is valuable when it attends to action rather than theoretical insinuation; to cultural volatility and contingency, and the broad determinants of social discourse rather than schemata and structure as critical ends. Interpretation has a participatory dimension -- an involvement, an engagement with culture described and interpreted -- which eschews the privilege of theory unimpeded by empirical evidence. References Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Harmondsworth. Penguin, 1972. Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books, 1973. Readings, Bill. The University in Ruins. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1996. Schiller, Friedrich. Notes on the Aesthetic Education of Man. Trans. E.M. Wilkinson and L.A. Willoughby. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967. Tylor, Edward B. Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development of Mythology, Philosophy, Religion, Language, Art and Customes. 2 vol. New York: Henry Holt, 1877. Williams, Raymond. "Culture is Ordinary". Resources of Hope: Culture, Democracy, Socialism. Ed. Robin Gable. London: Verso, 1989. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Martin Laba. "Culture as Action." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.2 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api- network.com/mc/0005/action.php>. Chicago style: Martin Laba, "Culture as Action," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 2 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/action.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Martin Laba. (2000) Culture as action. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(2). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/action.php> ([your date of access]).

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37

Milne, Esther. "'The Ministers of Locomotion'." M/C Journal 3, no.3 (June1, 2000). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1844.

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'The vital experience of the glad animal sensibilities made doubts impossible on the question of our speed; we heard our speed, we saw it, we felt it as a thrilling; and this speed was not the product of blind insensate agencies, that had no sympathy to give, but was incarnated in the fiery eyeballs of the noblest amongst brutes, in his dilated nostril, spasmodic muscles, and thunder-beating hoofs.' -- Thomas de Quincey (1849), "The English Mail-Coach" For Thomas de Quincey, the thrust of speed is intimately linked with the thrust of the body. Subjectivity is formed by and through a corporeal experience of acceleration. In this way, De Quincey has the jump on those other lovers of automated speed: the Italian Futurists. That heady clash of bodies, speed and information, or the technological sublime, we characteristically associate with the development of twentieth-century communication is already articulated some sixty years before Marinetti imagines the 'divine fusion' of body and machine. Thomas de Quincey's 1849 ode to the postal service -- "The English Mail Coach" -- functions as a significant text in modernity's velocity culture. Specifically, de Quincey allows us to historicise the critical terms of 'speed', 'body' and 'circulation'. This paper makes some preliminary historical observations about the acceleration of communication and transport systems and how this rapidity might give rise to new forms of subjectivity or the emergence of what Jeffrey T. Schnapp calls 'the kinematic subject'. The perceptual reconfiguration of time and space is central to an understanding of modernity's preoccupation with speed. Rapid data circulation through digital information systems means that distance appears to shrink and time seems to collapse. Manuel Castells calls this a 'new time regime' (429). Temporality now functions according to a double logic: a simultaneous binary of 'the eternal and of the ephemeral'. The contemporary 'manipulation of time' turns on 'instantaneity and eternity: me and the universe, the self and the net' (462-3). For David Harvey the defining feature of postmodernity is 'time-space compression'. Capitalism is 'characterised by speed-up in the pace of life, while so overcoming spatial barriers that the world sometimes seems to collapse inwards upon us' (241). Castells and Harvey are not, of course, the first to notice the degree to which the changing rhythms of a communication vehicle might impact upon perceptions of time and space. In 1909 Marinetti announces its demise: 'Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed'. Yet this death is prefigured some 120 years before by the 18th century author Hannah More in a letter where, quoting Alexander Pope, she illustrates her reaction to the introduction of the mail coach: I have just been thinking that if the amorous poet, who modestly wished to annihilate time and space had lived to see our fortunate days, he would have seen his prophetic visions realised... cards having well-nigh accomplished the first, and mail-coaches the last. (Qtd. in Lewis 264) This letter is dated 1788, only four years after the establishment of the mail coach system. Initially the service ran between London and Bristol so that Hannah More writing from Somerset would complain of being bypassed by this new mode of information circulation: Of the other blessing, the annihilation of space, I cannot partake; mail-coaches, which come to others, come not to me. Letters and newspapers, now that they travel in coaches like gentlemen and ladies, come not within ten miles of my hermitage. (265) More here identifies an important historical factor in the transformation of information networks. It concerns the coupling of transportation and communication: information travels 'in coaches like gentlemen and ladies'. In More's 18th century account the two remain connected while, as James Carey has noted, the significance of the 19th century's invention of the telegraph is that it splits the two processes. The telegraph 'allowed symbols to move independently of geography and independently of and faster than transport' (213). For de Quincey, a pivotal feature of the mail coach is the way in which communication and transportation function coextensively. Recounting his travels on the coach as it distributes news from the Napoleonic wars he notes that 'the grandest chapter of our experience, within the whole mail-coach service, was on those occasions when we went down from London with the news of victory' (290). For de Quincey, as for other commentators, the mail coach is a political instrument. Through the increasing efficiency of its communication infrastructure, it 'binds the nation together' (Austen 361). As de Quincey puts it 'the mail-coach, as the national organ for publishing these mighty events, thus diffusively influential, became itself a spiritualised and glorified object to an impassioned heart' (272). What impresses de Quincey most, however, is the speed of this vehicle. Or perhaps, more accurately, it is a particular relation between the self and speed, which confers on the mail coach a 'glory of motion' (270). By the time he publishes his essay, postal and newspaper circulation by mail-coach is nearly at an end. The last mail coach ceases action in London in 1846 (Daunton 123) and postal distribution begins to be carried out by rail. De Quincey clearly mourns the loss of this form of communication. And his regret depends on the self's perception of speed. That is, to qualify as an authentic act of transportation (of the body, of the post or of language), one must, to some degree, be aware of the systems of circulation, the modes of delivery and the vehicle of communication. One ought to be able to experience the speed at which one travels or the mail is delivered. The body must remain in contact with the message. In de Quincey's view the railway communication system fails for these sorts of reasons: The modern modes of travelling cannot compare with the mail-coach system in grandeur and power. They boast of more velocity, not however as a consciousness, but as a fact of our lifeless knowledge, resting upon alien evidence; as, for instance, because somebody says that we have gone fifty miles in the hour though we are far from feeling it as a personal experience ... . Apart from such an assertion, or such a result, I myself am little aware of the pace. But, seated on the old mail-coach, we needed no evidence out of ourselves to indicate the velocity. (283, emphasis in the original) Perched atop the careening mail coach, the self needs no secondary evidence to confirm its propulsion: 'we heard our speed, we saw it, we felt it as a thrilling'. But with the emergence of railway systems, the self somehow becomes cut off or distanced from the mode of transport: 'But now, on the new system of travelling, iron tubes and boilers have disconnected man's heart from the ministers of his locomotion' (284). To be sure, rail is faster. But that fails to impress de Quincey for the rail cannot offer him the same sublime effect. The mail coach is drawn by 'royal horses like cheetahs' (282) while the train lacks the power to raise even 'an extra bubble in a steam-kettle' (284). The sublimity of speed is also aural. But once again the railroad fails to inspire awe: 'the trumpet that once announced from afar the laurelled mail; heartshaking, when heard screaming on the wind ... has now given way for ever to the pot-wallopings of the boiler' (284). In Burke's formulation of the sublime there is danger and terror but there must also be a certain distance from this threat. It is 'simply painful' when we are aroused by causes that 'immediately affect us' but it is sublime when 'we have an idea of pain and danger, without being actually in such circumstances' (51) . For de Quincey sitting inside the carriage seems to offer too much safety and distance, the interior reserved as it is for the 'porcelain variety of the human race' (273). Instead, he travels aloft near the driver because of 'the air, the freedom of prospect, the proximity to the horses, the elevation of seat' (275). And he has the possibility of reining them in himself: 'the certain anticipation of purchasing occasional opportunities of driving' (275)1. The closer he is to the ministers of his locomotion, the better de Quincey likes it. The more he becomes the agent of his own speed, the more immediate, authentic and sublime seems his journey. For de Quincey, then, the superiority of the mail coach over the railroad lies not in terms of absolute speed but rather it concerns issues about the body's experience of and relation to that speed. As Matthew Schneider (1995) puts it 'the difference between the two with respect to their speed, privileges mail coaches by virtue of their violent immediacy, their ability to transmit the actual or living sensations rather than one that is intermediate or representational' (152)2. In a fascinating paper about the correlation between speed and subjectivity Jeffrey T. Schnapp identifies the mail coach in general and de Quincey in particular as emblematic of an 'inaugural moment' in the development of an 'anthropology of speed' (3). With a quick side swipe at the ahistorical and apocalyptic underpinning of Paul Virilio's Speed and Politics, Schnapp argues that although speed has always been 'an agent of individuation' it is with modernity that it begins to depend on the relation between self and vehicle: ... the mere experience of riding on horseback was not enough to establish a modern culture of velocity. Speed's rise as a cultural thematic, its move into an everyday realm of perceptibility, its adoption as sacrament of modern individualism, became possible only with the development of mechanical buffers between rider, horse, and roadway: buffers that enable new fantasies of attachment, first, between rider and engine, and, then, according to a more complex logic, between rider, engine, vehicle, and/or landscape. (10-1) What is particularly productive about Schnapp's account is that he schematises the history of transportation in terms of the relation between speed, body and vehicle. For Schnapp this is a pivotal dynamic. De Quincey's equestrian desire and his disdain for railroad travel, is part of a historical process where individuality comes to be 'identified with administration of one's own speed' (14). In Schnapp's model, there are 'two concurrent yet distinct experiences of velocity', one that he calls 'thrill-based' and the other 'commodity-based'. The first is experienced in modes such as on top of the mail-coach and later, cars, motorbikes and aeroplanes. 'Commodity-based' refers to train and bus travel. The difference between the two is that thrill-based transportation occurs when the passenger 'can envisage himself as the author of his velocity' while in 'commodity-based' forms the traveller is 'shielded from the natural environment and the engine, and passively submits himself to velocity' (18-9). De Quincey's essay is a valuable resource for communications historiography. Like Jacques Derrida, he recognises how the rhythms of the postal service function to construct identity. As a system of circulation and exchange, the post office institutionalises modes of correspondence, producing and regulating particular subjectivities. And like Postman Pat, de Quincey knows the corporeal pleasures of delivering the mail. Footnotes There are also issues of class at work here. Tickets were more expensive to sit inside the carriage which de Quincey, then a student at Oxford, could not afford. He attempts to reverse these class distinctions by arguing that 'inside which had been traditionally regarded as the only room tenantable by gentlemen, was, in fact, the coal-cellar in disguise' (187). The secondary material on de Quincey is quite extensive. In the last 15 years his work has been investigated from a number of different angles including poststructuralist approaches to language and his transitional status as a figure between Romanticism and Modernism. As well as Schneider, see Clej and Snyder. References Austen, Brian. British Mail-Coach Services 1784-1850. New York and London: Garland, 1986. Burke, Edmund. A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. Ed. James T. Boulton. 2nd ed. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987. Carey, James W. Communication as Culture: Essays on Media and Society. Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1988. Castells, Manuel. The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture. Volume 1: The Rise of the Network Society. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishers, 1996. Clej, Alina. A Genealogy of the Modern Self: Thomas De Quincey and the Intoxication of Writing. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1995. Daunton, M.J. Royal Mail: The Post Office since 1840. London: The Athlone Press, 1985. De Quincey, Thomas. "The English Mail-Coach." The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey. Ed. David Masson. Vol. 13. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1890. Derrida, Jacques. The Postcard: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond. Trans. Alan Bass. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987. Harvey, David. The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishers, 1990. Lewis, W.S., ed. Horace Walpole's Correspondence. Vol 31. New Haven: Yale UP, 1961. Marinetti, FT. "The Founding and Manifesto of Futurism." First published 1909. Futurist Manifestos. London: Thames and Hudson, 1973. Schnapp, Jeffrey T. "Crash (Speed as Engine of Individuation)." Modernism/Modernity 6.1 (1999): 1-49. Schneider, Matthew. Original Ambivalence: Autobiography and Violence in Thomas De Quincey. New York: Peter Lang, 1995. Snyder, Robert Lance, ed. Thomas De Quincey Bicentenary Studies. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1985. Virilio, Paul. Speed and Politics: An Essay on Dromology. Trans. Mark Polizzotti. New York: Semiotexte, 1986. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Ester Milne. "'The Ministers of Locomotion': Some Historical Speculations on Velocity Culture." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.3 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0006/ministers.php>. Chicago style: Ester Milne, "'The Ministers of Locomotion': Some Historical Speculations on Velocity Culture," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 3 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0006/ministers.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Ester Milne. (2000) 'The ministers of locomotion': some historical speculations on velocity culture. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(3). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0006/ministers.php> ([your date of access]).

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38

Wilken, Rowan. "Walkie-Talkies, Wandering, and Sonic Intimacy." M/C Journal 22, no.4 (August14, 2019). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1581.

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IntroductionThis short article examines contemporary artistic use of walkie-talkies across two projects: Saturday (2002) by Sabrina Raaf and Walk That Sound (2014) by Lukatoyboy. Drawing on Dominic Pettman’s notion of sonic intimacy, I argue that both artists incorporate walkie-talkies as part of their explorations of mediated wandering, and in ways that seek to capture sonic ambiances and intimacies. One thing that is striking about both these works is that they rethink what’s possible with walkie-talkies; both artists use them not just as low-tech, portable devices for one-to-one communication over distance, but also—and more strikingly—as (covert) recording equipment for capturing, while wandering, snippets of intimate conversation between passers-by and the “voice” of the surrounding environment. Both artworks strive to make the familiar strange. They prompt us to question our preconceived perceptions of, and affective engagements with, the people and places around us, to listen more attentively to the voices of others (and the “Other”), and to aurally inhabit in new ways the spaces and places we find ourselves in and routinely pass through.The walkie-talkie is an established, simple communication device, consisting of a two-way radio transceiver with a speaker and microphone (in some cases, the speaker is also used as the microphone) and an antenna (Wikipedia). Walkie-talkies are half-duplex communication devices, meaning that they use a single radio channel: only one radio on the channel can transmit at a time, but many can listen; when a user wishes to talk, they must turn off the receiver and turn on the transmitter by pressing a push-to-talk button (Wikipedia). In some models, static—known as squelch—is produced each time the push-to-talk button is depressed. The push-to-talk button is a feature of both projects: in Saturday, it transforms the walkie-talkie into a cheap, portable recorder-transmitter. In Walk That Sound, rapid fire exchanges of conversation using the push-to-talk button feature strongly.Interestingly, walkie-talkies were developed during World War Two. While they continue to be used within certain industrial settings, they are perhaps best known as a “quaint” household toy and “fun tool” (Smith). Early print ads for walkie-talkie toys marketed them as a form of both spyware for kids (with the Gabriel Toy Co. releasing a 007-themed walkie-talkie set) and as a teletechnology for communication over distance—“how thrilling to ‘speak through space!’”, states one ad (Statuv “New!”). What is noteworthy about these early ads is that they actively promote experimental use of walkie-talkies. For instance, a 1953 ad for Vibro-Matic “Space Commander” walkie-talkies casts them as media transmission devices, suggesting that, with them, one can send and receive “voice – songs – music” (Statuv “New!”). In addition, a 1962 ad for the Knight-Kit walkie-talkie imagines “you’ll find new uses for this exciting walkie-talkie every day” (Statuv “Details”). Resurgent interest in walkie-talkies has seen them also promoted more recently as intimate tools “for communication without asking permission to communicate” (“Nextel”); this is to say that they have been marketed as devices for synchronous or immediate communication that overcome the limits of asynchronous communication, such as texting, where there might be substantial delays between the sending of a message and receipt of a response. Within this context, it is not surprising that Snapchat and Instagram have also since added “walkie-talkie” features to their messaging services. The Nextel byline, emphasising “without asking permission”, also speaks to the possibilities of using walkie-talkies as rudimentary forms of spyware.Within art practice that explores mediated forms of wandering—that is, walking while using media and various “remote transmission technologies” (Duclos 233)—walkie-talkies hold appeal for a number of reasons, including their particular aesthetic qualities, such as the crackling or static sound (squelch) that one encounters when using them; their portability; their affordability; and, the fact that, while they can be operated on multiple channels, they tend to be regarded primarily as devices that permit two-way, one-to-one (and therefore intimate, if not secure) remote communication. As we will see below, however, contemporary artists, such as the aforementioned earlier advertisers, have also been very attentive to the device’s experimental possibilities. Perhaps the best known (if possibly apocryphal) example of artistic use of walkie-talkies is by the Situationist International as part of their explorations in urban wandering (a revolutionary strategy called dérive). In the Situationist text from 1960, Die Welt als Labyrinth (Anon.), there is a detailed account of how walkie-talkies were to form part of a planned dérive, which was organised by the Dutch section of the Situationist International, through the city of Amsterdam, but which never went ahead:Two groups, each containing three situationists, would dérive for three days, on foot or eventually by boat (sleeping in hotels along the way) without leaving the center of Amsterdam. By means of the walkie-talkies with which they would be equipped, these groups would remain in contact, with each other, if possible, and in any case with the radio-truck of the cartographic team, from where the director of the dérive—in this case Constant [Nieuwenhuys]—moving around so as to maintain contact, would define their routes and sometimes give instructions (it was also the director of the dérive’s responsibility to prepare experiments at certain locations and secretly arranged events.) (Anon.) This proposed dérive formed part of Situationist experiments in unitary urbanism, a process that consisted of “making different parts of the city communicate with one another.” Their ambition was to create new situations informed by, among other things, encounters and atmospheres that were registered through dérive in order to reconnect parts of the city that were separated spatially (Lefebvre quoted in Lefebvre and Ross 73). In an interview with Kristin Ross, Henri Lefebvre insists that the Situationists “did have their experiments; I didn’t participate. They used all kinds of means of communication—I don’t know when exactly they were using walkie-talkies. But I know they were used in Amsterdam and in Strasbourg” (Lefebvre quoted in Lefebvre and Ross 73). However, as Rebecca Duclos points out, such use “is, in fact, not well documented”, and “none of the more well-known reports on situationist activity […] specifically mentions the use of walkie-talkies within their descriptive narratives” (Duclos 233). In the early 2000s, walkie-talkies also figured prominently, alongside other media devices, in at least two location-based gaming projects by renowned British art collective Blast Theory, Can You See Me Now? (2001) and You Get Me (2008). In the first of these projects, participants in the game (“online players”) competed against members of Blast Theory (“runners”), tracking them through city streets via a GPS-enabled handheld computer that runners carried with them. The goal for online players was to move an avatar they created through a virtual map of the city as multiple runners “pursued their avatar’s geographical coordinates in real-time” (Leorke). As Dale Leorke explains, “Players could see the locations of the runners and other players and exchange text messages with other players” (Leorke 27), and runners could “read players’ messages and communicate directly with each other through a walkie-talkie” (28). An audio stream from these walkie-talkie conversations allowed players to eavesdrop on their pursuers (Blast Theory, Can You See Me Now?).You Get Me was similarly structured, with online players and “runners” (eight teenagers who worked with Blast Theory on the game). Remotely situated online players began the game by listening to the “personal geography” of the runners over a walkie-talkie stream (Blast Theory, You Get Me). They then selected one runner, and tracked them down by navigating their own avatar, without being caught, through a virtual version of Mile End Park in London, in pursuit of their chosen runner who was moving about the actual Mile End Park. Once their chosen runner was contacted, the player had to respond to a question that the runner posed to them. If the runner was satisfied with the player’s answer, conversation switched to “the privacy of a mobile phone” in order to converse further; if not, the player was thrown back into the game (Blast Theory, You Get Me). A key aim of Blast Theory’s work, as I have argued elsewhere (Wilken), is the fostering of interactions and fleeting intimacies between relative and complete strangers. The walkie-talkie is a key tool in both the aforementioned Blast Theory projects for facilitating these interactions and intimacies.Beyond these well-known examples, walkie-talkies have been employed in productive and exploratory ways by other artists. The focus in this article is on two specific projects: the first by US-based sound artist Sabrina Raaf, called Saturday (2002) and the second by Serbian sound designer Lukatoyboy (Luka Ivanović), titled Walk That Sound (2014). Sonic IntimaciesThe concept that gives shape and direction to the analysis of the art projects by Raaf and Lukatoyboy and their use of walkie-talkies is that of sonic intimacy. This is a concept of emerging critical interest across media and sound studies and geography (see, for example, James; Pettman; Gallagher and Prior). Sonic intimacy, as Dominic Pettman explains, is composed of two simultaneous yet opposing orientations. On the one hand, sonic intimacy involves a “turning inward, away from the wider world, to more private and personal experiences and relationships” (79). While, on the other hand, it also involves a turning outward, to seek and heed “the voice of the world” (79)—or what Pettman refers to as the “vox mundi” (66). Pettman conceives of the “vox mundi” as an “ecological voice”, whereby “all manner of creatures, agents, entities, objects, and phenomena” (79) have the opportunity to speak to us, if only we were prepared to listen to our surroundings in new and different ways. In a later passage, he also refers to the “vox mundi” as a “carrier or potentially enlightening alterity” (83). Voices, Pettman writes, “transgress the neat divisions we make between ‘us’ and ‘them’, at all scales and junctures” (6). Thus, Pettman’s suggestion is that “by listening to the ‘voices’ that lie dormant in the surrounding world […] we may in turn foster a more sustainable relationship with [the] local matrix of specific existences” (85), be they human or otherwise.This formulation of sonic intimacy provides a productive conceptual frame for thinking through Raaf’s and Lukatoyboy’s use of walkie-talkies. The contention in this article is that these two projects are striking for the way that they both use walkie-talkies to explore, simultaneously, this double articulation or dual orientation of sonic intimacy—a turning inwards to capture more private and personal experiences and conversations, and a turning outwards to capture the vox mundi. Employing Pettman’s notion of sonic intimacy as a conceptual frame, I trace below the different ways that these two projects incorporate walkie-talkies in order to develop mediated forms of wandering that seek to capture place-based sonic ambiances and sonic intimacies.Sabrina Raaf, Saturday (2002)US sound artist Sabrina Raaf’s Saturday (2002) is a sound-based art installation based on recordings of “stolen conversations” that Raaf gathered over many Saturdays in Humboldt Park, Chicago. Raaf’s work harks back to the early marketing of walkie-talkie toys as spyware. In Raaf’s hands, this device is used not for engaging in intimate one-to-one conversation, but for listening in on, and capturing, the intimate conversations of others. In other words, she uses this device, as the Nextel slogan goes, for “communication without permission to communicate” (“Nextel”). Raaf’s inspiration for the piece was twofold. First, she has noted that “with the overuse of radio frequency bands for wireless communications, there comes the increased occurrence of crossed lines where a private conversation becomes accidentally shared” (Raaf). Reminiscent of Francis Ford Coppola’s film The Conversation (1974), in which surveillance expert Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) records the conversation of a couple as they walk through crowded Union Square in San Francisco, Raaf used a combination of walkie-talkies, CB radios, and “various other forms of consumer spy […] technology in order to actively harvest such communication leaks” (Raaf). The second source of inspiration was noticing the “sheer quantity of non-phone, low tech, radio transmissions that were constantly being sent around [the] neighbourhood”, transmissions that were easily intercepted. These conversations were eclectic in composition and character:The transmissions included communications between gang members on street corners nearby and group conversations between friends talking about changes in the neighbourhood and their families. There were raw, intimate conversations and often even late night sex talk between potential lovers. (Raaf)What struck Raaf about these conversations, these transmissions, was that there was “a furtive quality” to most of them, and “a particular daringness to their tone”.During her Saturday wanderings, Raaf complemented her recordings of stolen snippets of conversation with recordings of the “voice” of the surrounding neighbourhood—“the women singing out their windows to their radios, the young men in their low rider cars circling the block, the children, the ice cream carts, etc. These are the sounds that are mixed into the piece” (Raaf).Audience engagement with Saturday involves a kind of austere intimacy of its own that seems befitting of a surveillance-inspired sonic portrait of urban and private life. The piece is accessed via an interactive glove. This glove is white in colour and about the size of a large gardening glove, with a Velcro strap that fastens across the hand, like a cycling glove. The glove, which only has coverings for thumb and first two fingers (it is missing the ring and little fingers) is wired into and rests on top of a roughly A4-sized white rectangular box. This box, which is mounted onto the wall of an all-white gallery space at the short end, serves as a small shelf. The displayed glove is illuminated by a discrete, bent-arm desk lamp, that protrudes from the shelf near the gallery wall. Above the shelf are a series of wall-mounted colour images that relate to the project. In order to hear the soundtrack of Saturday, gallery visitors approach the shelf, put on the glove, and “magically just press their fingertips to their forehead [to] hear the sound without the use of their ears” (Raaf). The glove, Raaf explains, “is outfitted with leading edge audio electronic devices called ‘bone transducers’ […]. These transducers transmit sound in a very unusual fashion. They translate sound into vibration patterns which resonate through bone” (Raaf).Employing this technique, Raaf explains, “permits a new way of listening”:The user places their fingers to their forehead—in a gesture akin to Rodin’s The Thinker or of a clairvoyant—in order to tap into the lives of strangers. Pressing different combinations of fingers to the temple yield plural viewpoints and group conversations. These sounds are literally mixed in the bones of the listener. (Raaf) The result is a (literally and figuratively) touching sonic portrait of Humboldt Park, its residents, and the “voice” of its surrounding neighbourhoods. Through the unique technosomatic (Richardson) apparatus—combinations of gestures that convey the soundscape directly through the bones and body—those engaging with Saturday get to hear voices in/of/around Humboldt Park. It is a portrait that combines sonic intimacy in the two forms described earlier in this article. In its inward-focused form, the gallery visitor-listener is positioned as a voyeur of sorts, listening into stolen snippets of private and personal relationships, experiences, and interactions. And, in its outward-focused form, the gallery visitor-listener encounters a soundscape in which an array of agents, entities, and objects are also given a voice. Additional work performed by this piece, it seems to me, is to be found in the intermingling of these two form of sonic intimacy—the personal and the environmental—and the way that they prompt reflection on mediation, place, urban life, others, and intimacy. That is to say that, beyond its particular sonic portrait of Humboldt Park, Saturday works in “clearing some conceptual space” in the mind of the departing gallery visitor such that they might “listen for, if not precisely to, the collective, polyphonic ‘voice of the world’” (Pettman 6) as they go about their day-to-day lives.Lukatoyboy, Walk That Sound (2014)The second project, Walk That Sound, by Serbian sound artist Lukatoyboy was completed for the 2014 CTM festival. CTM is an annual festival event that is staged in Berlin and dedicated to “adventurous music and art” (CTM Festival, “About”). A key project within the festival is CTM Radio Lab. The Lab supports works, commissioned by CTM Festival and Deutschlandradio Kultur – Hörspiel/Klangkunst (among other partnering organisations), that seek to pair and explore the “specific artistic possibilities of radio with the potentials of live performance or installation” (CTM Festival, “Projects”). Lukatoyboy’s Walk That Sound was one of two commissioned pieces for the 2014 CTM Radio Lab. The project used the “commonplace yet often forgotten walkie-talkie” (CTM Festival, “Projects”) to create a moving urban sound portrait in the area around the Kottbusser Tor U-Bahn station in Berlin-Kreuzberg. Walk That Sound recruited participants—“mobile scouts”—to rove around the Kottbusser Tor area (CTM Festival, “Projects”). Armed with walkie-talkies, and playing with “the array of available and free frequencies, and the almost unlimited amount of users that can interact over these different channels”, the project captured the dispatches via walkie-talkie of each participant (CTM Festival, “Projects”). The resultant recording of Walk That Sound—which was aired on Deutschlandradio (see Lukatoyboy), part of a long tradition of transmitting experimental music and sound art on German radio (Cory)—forms an eclectic soundscape.The work juxtaposes snippets of dialogue shared between the mobile scouts, overheard mobile phone conversations, and moments of relative quietude, where the subdued soundtrack is formed by the ambient sounds—the “voice”—of the Kottbusser Tor area. This voice includes distant traffic, the distinctive auditory ticking of pedestrian lights, and moments of tumult and agitation, such as the sounds of construction work, car horns, emergency services vehicle sirens, a bottle bouncing on the pavement, and various other repetitive yet difficult to identify industrial sounds. This voice trails off towards the end of the recording into extended walkie-talkie produced static or squelch. The topics covered within the “crackling dialogues” (CTM Festival, “Projects”) of the mobile scouts ranged widely. There were banal observations (“I just stepped on a used tissue”; “people are crossing the street”; “there are 150 trains”)—wonderings that bear strong similarities with French writer Georges Perec’s well-known experimental descriptions of everyday Parisian life in the 1970s (Perec “An Attempt”). There were also intimate, confiding, flirtatious remarks (“Do you want to come to Turkey with me?”), as well as a number of playfully paranoid observations and quips (“I like to lie”; “I can see you”; “do you feel like you are being recorded?”; “I’m being followed”) that seem to speak to the fraught history of Berlin in particular as well as the complicated character of urban life in general—as Pettman asks, “what does ‘together’ signify in a socioeconomic system so efficient in producing alienation and isolation?” (92).In sum, Walk That Sound is a strangely moving exploration of sonic intimacy, one that shifts between many different registers and points of focus—much like urban wandering itself. As a work, it is variously funny, smart, paranoid, intimate, expansive, difficult to decipher, and, at times, even difficult to listen to. Pettman argues that, “thanks in large part to the industrialization of the human ear […], we have lost the capacity to hear the vox mundi, which is […] the sum total of cacophonous, heterogeneous, incommensurate, and unsynthesizable sounds of the postnatural world” (8). Walk That Sound functions almost like a response to this dilemma. One comes away from listening to it with a heightened awareness of, appreciation for, and aural connection to the rich messiness of the polyphonic contemporary urban vox mundi. ConclusionThe argument of this article is that Sabrina Raaf’s Saturday and Lukatoyboy’s Walk That Sound are two projects that both incorporate walkie-talkies in order to develop mediated forms of wandering that seek to capture place-based sonic ambiances and sonic intimacies. Drawing on Pettman’s notion of “sonic intimacy”, examination of these projects has opened consideration around voice, analogue technology, and what Nick Couldry refers to as “an obligation to listen” (Couldry 580). In order to be heard, Pettman remarks, and “in order to be considered a voice at all”, and therefore as “something worth heeding”, the vox mundi “must arrive intimately, or else it is experienced as noise or static” (Pettman 83). In both the projects discussed here—Saturday and Walk That Sound—the walkie-talkie provides this means of “intimate arrival”. As half-duplex communication devices, walkie-talkies have always fulfilled a double function: communicating and listening. This dual functionality is exploited in new ways by Raaf and Lukatoyboy. In their projects, both artists turn the microphone outwards, such that the walkie-talkie becomes not just a device for communicating while in the field, but also—and more strikingly—it becomes a field recording device. The result of which is that this simple, “playful” communication device is utilised in these two projects in two ways: on the one hand, as a “carrier of potentially enlightening alterity” (Pettman 83), a means of encouraging “potential encounters” (89) with strangers who have been thrown together and who cross paths, and, on the other hand, as a means of fostering “an environmental awareness” (89) of the world around us. In developing these prompts, Raaf and Lukatoyboy build potential bridges between Pettman’s work on sonic intimacy, their own work, and the work of other experimental artists. For instance, in relation to potential encounters, there are clear points of connection with Blast Theory, a group who, as noted earlier, have utilised walkie-talkies and sound-based and other media technologies to explore issues around urban encounters with strangers that promote reflection on ideas and experiences of otherness and difference (see Wilken)—issues that are also implicit in the two works examined. In relation to environmental awareness, their work—as well as Pettman’s calls for greater sonic intimacy—brings renewed urgency to Georges Perec’s encouragement to “question the habitual” and to account for, and listen carefully to, “the common, the ordinary, the infraordinary, the background noise” (Perec “Approaches” 210).Walkie-talkies, for Raaf and Lukatoyboy, when reimagined as field recording devices as much as remote transmission technologies, thus “allow new forms of listening, which in turn afford new forms of being together” (Pettman 92), new forms of being in the world, and new forms of sonic intimacy. Both these artworks engage with, and explore, what’s at stake in a politics and ethics of listening. Pettman prompts us, as urban dweller-wanderers, to think about how we might “attend to the act of listening itself, rather than to a specific sound” (Pettman 1). His questioning, as this article has explored, is answered by the works from Raaf and Lukatoyboy in effective style and technique, setting up opportunities for aural attentiveness and experiential learning. However, it is up to us whether we are prepared to listen carefully and to open ourselves to such intimate sonic contact with others and with the environments in which we live.ReferencesAnon. “Die Welt als Labyrinth.” Internationale Situationiste 4 (Jan. 1960). International Situationist Online, 19 June 2019 <https://www.cddc.vt.edu/sionline/si/diewelt.html>Blast Theory. “Can You See Me Now?” Blast Theory, 19 June 2019 <https://www.blasttheory.co.uk/projects/can-you-see-me-now/>.———. “You Get Me.” Blast Theory, 19 June 2019 <https://wwww.blasttheory.co.uk/projects/you-get-me/>.Cory, Mark E. “Soundplay: The Polyphonous Tradition of German Radio Art.” Wireless Imagination: Sound, Radio, and the Avant-garde. Eds. Douglas Kahn and Gregory Whitehead. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1992. 331–371.Couldry, Nick. “Rethinking the Politics of Voice.” Continuum 23.4 (2009): 579–582.CTM Festival. “About.” CTM Festival, 2019. 19 June 2019 <https://www.ctm-festival.de/about/ctm-festival/>.———. “Projects – CTM Radio Lab.” CTM Festival, 2019. 19 June 2019 <https://www.ctm-festival.de/projects/ctm-radio-lab/>.Duclos, Rebecca. “Reconnaissance/Méconnaissance: The Work of Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller.” Articulate Objects: Voice, Sculpture and Performance. Eds. Aura Satz and Jon Wood. Bern: Peter Lang, 2009. 221–246. Gallagher, Michael, and Jonathan Prior. “Sonic Geographies: Exploring Phonographic Methods.” Progress in Human Geography 38.2 (2014): 267–284.James, Malcom. Sonic Intimacy: The Study of Sound. London: Bloomsbury, forthcoming.Lefebvre, Henri, and Kristin Ross. “Lefebvre on the Situationists: An Interview.” October 79 (Winter 1997): 69–83. Leorke, Dale. Location-Based Gaming: Play in Public Space. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019.Lukatoyboy. “Walk That Sound – Deutschlandradiokultur Klangkunst Broadcast 14.02.2014.” SoundCloud. 19 June 2019 <https://soundcloud.com/lukatoyboy/walk-that-sound-deutschlandradiokultur-broadcast-14022014>.“Nextel: Couple. Walkie Talkies Are Good for Something More.” AdAge. 6 June 2012. 18 July 2019 <https://adage.com/creativity/work/couple/27993>.Perec, Georges. An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris. Trans. Marc Lowenthal. Cambridge, MA: Wakefield Press, 2010.———. “Approaches to What?” Species of Spaces and Other Pieces. Rev. ed. Ed. and trans. John Sturrock. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1999. 209–211.Pettman, Dominic. Sonic Intimacy: Voice, Species, Technics (Or, How to Listen to the World). Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 2017.Raaf, Sabrina. “Saturday.” Sabrina Raaf :: New Media Artist, 2002. 19 June 2019 <http://raaf.org/projects.php?pcat=2&proj=10>.Richardson, Ingrid. “Mobile Technosoma: Some Phenomenological Reflections on Itinerant Media Devices.” The Fibreculture Journal 6 (2005). <http://six.fibreculturejournal.org/fcj-032-mobile-technosoma-some-phenomenological-reflections-on-itinerant-media-devices/>. Smith, Ernie. “Roger That: A Short History of the Walkie Talkie.” Vice, 23 Sep. 2017. 19 June 2019 <https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/vb7vk4/roger-that-a-short-history-of-the-walkie-talkie>. Statuv. “Details about Allied Radio Knight-Kit C-100 Walkie Talkie CB Radio Vtg Print Ad.” Statuv, 4 Jan. 2016. 18 July 2019 <https://statuv.com/media/74802043788985511>.———. “New! 1953 ‘Space Commander’ Vibro-Matic Walkie-Talkies.” Statuv, 4 Jan. 2016. 18 July 2019 <https://statuv.com/media/74802043788985539>.Wikipedia. “Walkie-Talkie”. Wikipedia, 3 July 2019. 18 July 2019 <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walkie-talkie>.Wilken, Rowan. “Proximity and Alienation: Narratives of City, Self, and Other in the Locative Games of Blast Theory.” The Mobile Story: Narrative Practices with Locative Technologies. Ed. Jason Farman. New York: Routledge, 2014. 175–191.

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See, Pamela Mei-Leng. "Branding: A Prosthesis of Identity." M/C Journal 22, no.5 (October9, 2019). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1590.

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This article investigates the prosthesis of identity through the process of branding. It examines cross-cultural manifestations of this phenomena from sixth millennium BCE Syria to twelfth century Japan and Britain. From the Neolithic Era, humanity has sort to extend their identities using pictorial signs that were characteristically simple. Designed to be distinctive and instantly recognisable, the totemic symbols served to signal the origin of the bearer. Subsequently, the development of branding coincided with periods of increased in mobility both in respect to geography and social strata. This includes fifth millennium Mesopotamia, nineteenth century Britain, and America during the 1920s.There are fewer articles of greater influence on contemporary culture than A Theory of Human Motivation written by Abraham Maslow in 1943. Nearly seventy-five years later, his theories about the societal need for “belongingness” and “esteem” remain a mainstay of advertising campaigns (Maslow). Although the principles are used to sell a broad range of products from shampoo to breakfast cereal they are epitomised by apparel. This is with refence to garments and accessories bearing corporation logos. Whereas other purchased items, imbued with abstract products, are intended for personal consumption the public display of these symbols may be interpreted as a form of signalling. The intention of the wearers is to literally seek the fulfilment of the aforementioned social needs. This article investigates the use of brands as prosthesis.Coats and Crests: Identity Garnered on Garments in the Middle Ages and the Muromachi PeriodA logo, at its most basic, is a pictorial sign. In his essay, The Visual Language, Ernest Gombrich described the principle as reducing images to “distinctive features” (Gombrich 46). They represent a “simplification of code,” the meaning of which we are conditioned to recognise (Gombrich 46). Logos may also be interpreted as a manifestation of totemism. According to anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, the principle exists in all civilisations and reflects an effort to evoke the power of nature (71-127). Totemism is also a method of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166).This principle, in a form garnered on garments, is manifested in Mon Kiri. The practice of cutting out family crests evolved into a form of corporate branding in Japan during the Meiji Period (1868-1912) (Christensen 14). During the Muromachi period (1336-1573) the crests provided an integral means of identification on the battlefield (Christensen 13). The adorning of crests on armour was also exercised in Europe during the twelfth century, when the faces of knights were similarly obscured by helmets (Family Crests of Japan 8). Both Mon Kiri and “Coat[s] of Arms” utilised totemic symbols (Family Crests of Japan 8; Elven 14; Christensen 13). The mon for the imperial family (figs. 1 & 2) during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia flowers (Goin’ Japaneque). “Coat[s] of Arms” in Britain featured a menagerie of animals including lions (fig. 3), horses and eagles (Elven).The prothesis of identity through garnering symbols on the battlefield provided “safety” through demonstrating “belongingness”. This constituted a conflation of two separate “needs” in the “hierarchy of prepotency” propositioned by Maslow. Fig. 1. The mon symbolising the Imperial Family during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia. "Kamon (Japanese Family Crests): Ancient Key to Samurai Culture." Goin' Japaneque! 15 Nov. 2015. 27 July 2019 <http://goinjapanesque.com/05983/>.Fig. 2. An example of the crest being utilised on a garment can be found in this portrait of samurai Oda Nobunaga. "Japan's 12 Most Famous Samurai." All About Japan. 27 Aug. 2018. 27 July 2019 <https://allabout-japan.com/en/article/5818/>.Fig. 3. A detail from the “Index of Subjects of Crests.” Elven, John Peter. The Book of Family Crests: Comprising Nearly Every Family Bearing, Properly Blazoned and Explained, Accompanied by Upwards of Four Thousand Engravings. Henry Washbourne, 1847.The Pursuit of Prestige: Prosthetic Pedigree from the Late Georgian to the Victorian Eras In 1817, the seal engraver to Prince Regent, Alexander Deuchar, described the function of family crests in British Crests: Containing The Crest and Mottos of The Families of Great Britain and Ireland; Together with Those of The Principal Cities and Heraldic Terms as follows: The first approach to civilization is the distinction of ranks. So necessary is this to the welfare and existence of society, that, without it, anarchy and confusion must prevail… In an early stage, heraldic emblems were characteristic of the bearer… Certain ordinances were made, regulating the mode of bearing arms, and who were entitled to bear them. (i-v)The partitioning of social classes in Britain had deteriorated by the time this compendium was published, with displays of “conspicuous consumption” displacing “heraldic emblems” as a primary method of status signalling (Deuchar 2; Han et al. 18). A consumerism born of newfound affluence, and the desire to signify this wealth through luxury goods, was as integral to the Industrial Revolution as technological development. In Rebels against the Future, published in 1996, Kirkpatrick Sale described the phenomenon:A substantial part of the new population, though still a distinct minority, was made modestly affluent, in some places quite wealthy, by privatization of of the countryside and the industrialization of the cities, and by the sorts of commercial and other services that this called forth. The new money stimulated the consumer demand… that allowed a market economy of a scope not known before. (40)This also reflected improvements in the provision of “health, food [and] education” (Maslow; Snow 25-28). With their “physiological needs” accommodated, this ”substantial part” of the population were able to prioritised their “esteem needs” including the pursuit for prestige (Sale 40; Maslow).In Britain during the Middle Ages laws “specified in minute detail” what each class was permitted to wear (Han et al. 15). A groom, for example, was not able to wear clothing that exceeded two marks in value (Han et al. 15). In a distinct departure during the Industrial Era, it was common for the “middling and lower classes” to “ape” the “fashionable vices of their superiors” (Sale 41). Although mon-like labels that were “simplified so as to be conspicuous and instantly recognisable” emerged in Europe during the nineteenth century their application on garments remained discrete up until the early twentieth century (Christensen 13-14; Moore and Reid 24). During the 1920s, the French companies Hermes and Coco Chanel were amongst the clothing manufacturers to pioneer this principle (Chaney; Icon).During the 1860s, Lincolnshire-born Charles Frederick Worth affixed gold stamped labels to the insides of his garments (Polan et al. 9; Press). Operating from Paris, the innovation was consistent with the introduction of trademark laws in France in 1857 (Lopes et al.). He would become known as the “Father of Haute Couture”, creating dresses for royalty and celebrities including Empress Eugene from Constantinople, French actress Sarah Bernhardt and Australian Opera Singer Nellie Melba (Lopes et al.; Krick). The clothing labels proved and ineffective deterrent to counterfeit, and by the 1890s the House of Worth implemented other measures to authenticate their products (Press). The legitimisation of the origin of a product is, arguably, the primary function of branding. This principle is also applicable to subjects. The prothesis of brands, as totemic symbols, assisted consumers to relocate themselves within a new system of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166). It was one born of commerce as opposed to heraldry.Selling of Self: Conferring Identity from the Neolithic to Modern ErasIn his 1817 compendium on family crests, Deuchar elaborated on heraldry by writing:Ignoble birth was considered as a stain almost indelible… Illustrious parentage, on the other hand, constituted the very basis of honour: it communicated peculiar rights and privileges, to which the meaner born man might not aspire. (v-vi)The Twinings Logo (fig. 4) has remained unchanged since the design was commissioned by the grandson of the company founder Richard Twining in 1787 (Twining). In addition to reflecting the heritage of the family-owned company, the brand indicated the origin of the tea. This became pertinent during the nineteenth century. Plantations began to operate from Assam to Ceylon (Jones 267-269). Amidst the rampant diversification of tea sources in the Victorian era, concerns about the “unhygienic practices” of Chinese producers were proliferated (Wengrow 11). Subsequently, the brand also offered consumers assurance in quality. Fig. 4. The Twinings Logo reproduced from "History of Twinings." Twinings. 24 July 2019 <https://www.twinings.co.uk/about-twinings/history-of-twinings>.The term ‘brand’, adapted from the Norse “brandr”, was introduced into the English language during the sixteenth century (Starcevic 179). At its most literal, it translates as to “burn down” (Starcevic 179). Using hot elements to singe markings onto animals been recorded as early as 2700 BCE in Egypt (Starcevic 182). However, archaeologists concur that the modern principle of branding predates this practice. The implementation of carved seals or stamps to make indelible impressions of handcrafted objects dates back to Prehistoric Mesopotamia (Starcevic 183; Wengrow 13). Similar traditions developed during the Bronze Age in both China and the Indus Valley (Starcevic 185). In all three civilisations branding facilitated both commerce and aspects of Totemism. In the sixth millennium BCE in “Prehistoric” Mesopotamia, referred to as the Halaf period, stone seals were carved to emulate organic form such as animal teeth (Wengrow 13-14). They were used to safeguard objects by “confer[ring] part of the bearer’s personality” (Wengrow 14). They were concurrently applied to secure the contents of vessels containing “exotic goods” used in transactions (Wengrow 15). Worn as amulets (figs. 5 & 6) the seals, and the symbols they produced, were a physical extension of their owners (Wengrow 14).Fig. 5. Recreation of stamp seal amulets from Neolithic Mesopotamia during the sixth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49.1 (2008): 14.Fig. 6. “Lot 25Y: Rare Syrian Steatite Amulet – Fertility God 5000 BCE.” The Salesroom. 27 July 2019 <https://www.the-saleroom.com/en-gb/auction-catalogues/artemis-gallery-ancient-art/catalogue-id-srartem10006/lot-a850d229-a303-4bae-b68c-a6130005c48a>. Fig. 7. Recreation of stamp seal designs from Mesopotamia from the late fifth to fourth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49. 1 (2008): 16.In the following millennia, the seals would increase exponentially in application and aesthetic complexity (fig. 7) to support the development of household cum cottage industries (Wengrow 15). In addition to handcrafts, sealed vessels would transport consumables such as wine, aromatic oils and animal fats (Wengrow 18). The illustrations on the seals included depictions of rituals undertaken by human figures and/or allegories using animals. It can be ascertained that the transition in the Victorian Era from heraldry to commerce, from family to corporation, had precedence. By extension, consumers were able to participate in this process of value attribution using brands as signifiers. The principle remained prevalent during the modern and post-modern eras and can be respectively interpreted using structuralist and post-structuralist theory.Totemism to Simulacrum: The Evolution of Advertising from the Modern to Post-Modern Eras In 2011, Lisa Chaney wrote of the inception of the Coco Chanel logo (fig. 8) in her biography Chanel: An Intimate Life: A crucial element in the signature design of the Chanel No.5 bottle is the small black ‘C’ within a black circle set as the seal at the neck. On the top of the lid are two more ‘C’s, intertwined back to back… from at least 1924, the No5 bottles sported the unmistakable logo… these two ‘C’s referred to Gabrielle, – in other words Coco Chanel herself, and would become the logo for the House of Chanel. Chaney continued by describing Chanel’s fascination of totemic symbols as expressed through her use of tarot cards. She also “surrounded herself with objects ripe with meaning” such as representations of wheat and lions in reference prosperity and to her zodiac symbol ‘Leo’ respectively. Fig. 8. No5 Chanel Perfume, released in 1924, featured a seal-like logo attached to the bottle neck. “No5.” Chanel. 25 July 2019 <https://www.chanel.com/us/fragrance/p/120450/n5-parfum-grand-extrait/>.Fig. 9. This illustration of the bottle by Georges Goursat was published in a women’s magazine circa 1920s. “1921 Chanel No5.” Inside Chanel. 26 July 2019 <http://inside.chanel.com/en/timeline/1921_no5>; “La 4éme Fête de l’Histoire Samedi 16 et dimache 17 juin.” Ville de Perigueux. Musée d’art et d’archéologie du Périgord. 28 Mar. 2018. 26 July 2019 <https://www.perigueux-maap.fr/category/archives/page/5/>. This product was considered the “financial basis” of the Chanel “empire” which emerged during the second and third decades of the twentieth century (Tikkanen). Chanel is credited for revolutionising Haute Couture by introducing chic modern designs that emphasised “simplicity and comfort.” This was as opposed to the corseted highly embellished fashion that characterised the Victorian Era (Tikkanen). The lavish designs released by the House of Worth were, in and of themselves, “conspicuous” displays of “consumption” (Veblen 17). In contrast, the prestige and status associated with the “poor girl” look introduced by Chanel was invested in the story of the designer (Tikkanen). A primary example is her marinière or sailor’s blouse with a Breton stripe that epitomised her ascension from café singer to couturier (Tikkanen; Burstein 8). This signifier might have gone unobserved by less discerning consumers of fashion if it were not for branding. Not unlike the Prehistoric Mesopotamians, this iteration of branding is a process which “confer[s]” the “personality” of the designer into the garment (Wengrow 13 -14). The wearer of the garment is, in turn, is imbued by extension. Advertisers in the post-structuralist era embraced Levi-Strauss’s structuralist anthropological theories (Williamson 50). This is with particular reference to “bricolage” or the “preconditioning” of totemic symbols (Williamson 173; Pool 50). Subsequently, advertising creatives cum “bricoleur” employed his principles to imbue the brands with symbolic power. This symbolic capital was, arguably, transferable to the product and, ultimately, to its consumer (Williamson 173).Post-structuralist and semiotician Jean Baudrillard “exhaustively” critiqued brands and the advertising, or simulacrum, that embellished them between the late 1960s and early 1980s (Wengrow 10-11). In Simulacra and Simulation he wrote,it is the reflection of a profound reality; it masks and denatures a profound reality; it masks the absence of a profound reality; it has no relation to any reality whatsoever: it is its own pure simulacrum. (6)The symbolic power of the Chanel brand resonates in the ‘profound reality’ of her story. It is efficiently ‘denatured’ through becoming simplified, conspicuous and instantly recognisable. It is, as a logo, physically juxtaposed as simulacra onto apparel. This simulacrum, in turn, effects the ‘profound reality’ of the consumer. In 1899, economist Thorstein Veblen wrote in The Theory of the Leisure Class:Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods it the means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure… costly entertainments, such as potlatch or the ball, are peculiarly adapted to serve this end… he consumes vicariously for his host at the same time that he is witness to the consumption… he is also made to witness his host’s facility in etiquette. (47)Therefore, according to Veblen, it was the witnessing of “wasteful” consumption that “confers status” as opposed the primary conspicuous act (Han et al. 18). Despite television being in its experimental infancy advertising was at “the height of its powers” during the 1920s (Clark et al. 18; Hill 30). Post-World War I consumers, in America, experienced an unaccustomed level of prosperity and were unsuspecting of the motives of the newly formed advertising agencies (Clark et al. 18). Subsequently, the ‘witnessing’ of consumption could be constructed across a plethora of media from the newly emerged commercial radio to billboards (Hill viii–25). The resulting ‘status’ was ‘conferred’ onto brand logos. Women’s magazines, with a legacy dating back to 1828, were a primary locus (Hill 10).Belonging in a Post-Structuralist WorldIt is significant to note that, in a post-structuralist world, consumers do not exclusively seek upward mobility in their selection of brands. The establishment of counter-culture icon Levi-Strauss and Co. was concurrent to the emergence of both The House of Worth and Coco Chanel. The Bavarian-born Levi Strauss commenced selling apparel in San Francisco in 1853 (Levi’s). Two decades later, in partnership with Nevada born tailor Jacob Davis, he patented the “riveted-for-strength” workwear using blue denim (Levi’s). Although the ontology of ‘jeans’ is contested, references to “Jene Fustyan” date back the sixteenth century (Snyder 139). It involved the combining cotton, wool and linen to create “vestments” for Geonese sailors (Snyder 138). The Two Horse Logo (fig. 10), depicting them unable to pull apart a pair of jeans to symbolise strength, has been in continuous use by Levi Strauss & Co. company since its design in 1886 (Levi’s). Fig. 10. The Two Horse Logo by Levi Strauss & Co. has been in continuous use since 1886. Staff Unzipped. "Two Horses. One Message." Heritage. Levi Strauss & Co. 1 July 2011. 25 July 2019 <https://www.levistrauss.com/2011/07/01/two-horses-many-versions-one-message/>.The “rugged wear” would become the favoured apparel amongst miners at American Gold Rush (Muthu 6). Subsequently, between the 1930s – 1960s Hollywood films cultivated jeans as a symbol of “defiance” from Stage Coach staring John Wayne in 1939 to Rebel without A Cause staring James Dean in 1955 (Muthu 6; Edgar). Consequently, during the 1960s college students protesting in America (fig. 11) against the draft chose the attire to symbolise their solidarity with the working class (Hedarty). Notwithstanding a 1990s fashion revision of denim into a diversity of garments ranging from jackets to skirts, jeans have remained a wardrobe mainstay for the past half century (Hedarty; Muthu 10). Fig. 11. Although the brand label is not visible, jeans as initially introduced to the American Goldfields in the nineteenth century by Levi Strauss & Co. were cultivated as a symbol of defiance from the 1930s – 1960s. It documents an anti-war protest that occurred at the Pentagon in 1967. Cox, Savannah. "The Anti-Vietnam War Movement." ATI. 14 Dec. 2016. 16 July 2019 <https://allthatsinteresting.com/vietnam-war-protests#7>.In 2003, the journal Science published an article “Does Rejection Hurt? An Fmri Study of Social Exclusion” (Eisenberger et al.). The cross-institutional study demonstrated that the neurological reaction to rejection is indistinguishable to physical pain. Whereas during the 1940s Maslow classified the desire for “belonging” as secondary to “physiological needs,” early twenty-first century psychologists would suggest “[social] acceptance is a mechanism for survival” (Weir 50). In Simulacra and Simulation, Jean Baudrillard wrote: Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal… (1)In the intervening thirty-eight years since this document was published the artifice of our interactions has increased exponentially. In order to locate ‘belongness’ in this hyperreality, the identities of the seekers require a level of encoding. Brands, as signifiers, provide a vehicle.Whereas in Prehistoric Mesopotamia carved seals, worn as amulets, were used to extend the identity of a person, in post-digital China WeChat QR codes (fig. 12), stored in mobile phones, are used to facilitate transactions from exchanging contact details to commerce. Like other totems, they provide access to information such as locations, preferences, beliefs, marital status and financial circumstances. These individualised brands are the most recent incarnation of a technology that has developed over the past eight thousand years. The intermediary iteration, emblems affixed to garments, has remained prevalent since the twelfth century. Their continued salience is due to their visibility and, subsequent, accessibility as signifiers. Fig. 12. It may be posited that Wechat QR codes are a form individualised branding. Like other totems, they store information pertaining to the owner’s location, beliefs, preferences, marital status and financial circumstances. “Join Wechat groups using QR code on 2019.” Techwebsites. 26 July 2019 <https://techwebsites.net/join-wechat-group-qr-code/>.Fig. 13. Brands function effectively as signifiers is due to the international distribution of multinational corporations. This is the shopfront of Chanel in Dubai, which offers customers apparel bearing consistent insignia as the Parisian outlet at on Rue Cambon. Customers of Chanel can signify to each other with the confidence that their products will be recognised. “Chanel.” The Dubai Mall. 26 July 2019 <https://thedubaimall.com/en/shop/chanel>.Navigating a post-structuralist world of increasing mobility necessitates a rudimental understanding of these symbols. Whereas in the nineteenth century status was conveyed through consumption and witnessing consumption, from the twentieth century onwards the garnering of brands made this transaction immediate (Veblen 47; Han et al. 18). The bricolage of the brands is constructed by bricoleurs working in any number of contemporary creative fields such as advertising, filmmaking or song writing. They provide a system by which individuals can convey and recognise identities at prima facie. They enable the prosthesis of identity.ReferencesBaudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. United States: University of Michigan Press, 1994.Burstein, Jessica. Cold Modernism: Literature, Fashion, Art. United States: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012.Chaney, Lisa. Chanel: An Intimate Life. United Kingdom: Penguin Books Limited, 2011.Christensen, J.A. Cut-Art: An Introduction to Chung-Hua and Kiri-E. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1989. Clark, Eddie M., Timothy C. Brock, David E. Stewart, David W. Stewart. Attention, Attitude, and Affect in Response to Advertising. United Kingdom: Taylor & Francis Group, 1994.Deuchar, Alexander. British Crests: Containing the Crests and Mottos of the Families of Great Britain and Ireland Together with Those of the Principal Cities – Primary So. London: Kirkwood & Sons, 1817.Ebert, Robert. “Great Movie: Stage Coach.” Robert Ebert.com. 1 Aug. 2011. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-stagecoach-1939>.Elven, John Peter. The Book of Family Crests: Comprising Nearly Every Family Bearing, Properly Blazoned and Explained, Accompanied by Upwards of Four Thousand Engravings. London: Henry Washbourne, 1847.Eisenberger, Naomi I., Matthew D. Lieberman, and Kipling D. Williams. "Does Rejection Hurt? An Fmri Study of Social Exclusion." Science 302.5643 (2003): 290-92.Family Crests of Japan. California: Stone Bridge Press, 2007.Gombrich, Ernst. "The Visual Image: Its Place in Communication." Scientific American 272 (1972): 82-96.Hedarty, Stephanie. "How Jeans Conquered the World." BBC World Service. 28 Feb. 2012. 26 July 2019 <https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-17101768>. Han, Young Jee, Joseph C. Nunes, and Xavier Drèze. "Signaling Status with Luxury Goods: The Role of Brand Prominence." Journal of Marketing 74.4 (2010): 15-30.Hill, Daniel Delis. Advertising to the American Woman, 1900-1999. United States of Ame: Ohio State University Press, 2002."History of Twinings." Twinings. 24 July 2019 <https://www.twinings.co.uk/about-twinings/history-of-twinings>. icon-icon: Telling You More about Icons. 18 Dec. 2016. 26 July 2019 <http://www.icon-icon.com/en/hermes-logo-the-horse-drawn-carriage/>. Jones, Geoffrey. Merchants to Multinationals: British Trading Companies in the 19th and 20th Centuries. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002.Kamon (Japanese Family Crests): Ancient Key to Samurai Culture." Goin' Japaneque! 15 Nov. 2015. 27 July 2019 <http://goinjapanesque.com/05983/>. Krick, Jessa. "Charles Frederick Worth (1825-1895) and the House of Worth." Heilburnn Timeline of Art History. The Met. Oct. 2004. 23 July 2019 <https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/wrth/hd_wrth.htm>. Levi’s. "About Levis Strauss & Co." 25 July 2019 <https://www.levis.com.au/about-us.html>. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. Totemism. London: Penguin, 1969.Lopes, Teresa de Silva, and Paul Duguid. Trademarks, Brands, and Competitiveness. Abingdon: Routledge, 2010.Maslow, Abraham. "A Theory of Human Motivation." British Journal of Psychiatry 208.4 (1942): 313-13.Moore, Karl, and Susan Reid. "The Birth of Brand: 4000 Years of Branding History." Business History 4.4 (2008).Muthu, Subramanian Senthikannan. Sustainability in Denim. Cambridge Woodhead Publishing, 2017.Polan, Brenda, and Roger Tredre. The Great Fashion Designers. Oxford: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2009.Pool, Roger C. Introduction. Totemism. New ed. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969.Press, Claire. Wardrobe Crisis: How We Went from Sunday Best to Fast Fashion. Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing, 2016.Sale, K. Rebels against the Future: The Luddites and Their War on the Industrial Revolution: Lessons for the Computer Age. Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley, 1996.Snow, C.P. The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959. Snyder, Rachel Louise. Fugitive Denim: A Moving Story of People and Pants in the Borderless World of Global Trade. New York: W.W. Norton, 2008.Starcevic, Sladjana. "The Origin and Historical Development of Branding and Advertising in the Old Civilizations of Africa, Asia and Europe." Marketing 46.3 (2015): 179-96.Tikkanen, Amy. "Coco Chanel." Encyclopaedia Britannica. 19 Apr. 2019. 25 July 2019 <https://www.britannica.com/biography/Coco-Chanel>.Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study in the Evolution of Institutions. London: Macmillan, 1975.Weir, Kirsten. "The Pain of Social Rejection." American Psychological Association 43.4 (2012): 50.Williamson, Judith. Decoding Advertisements: Ideology and Meaning in Advertising. Ideas in Progress. London: Boyars, 1978.

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Richardson, Nicholas. "Wandering a Metro: Actor-Network Theory Research and Rapid Rail Infrastructure Communication." M/C Journal 22, no.4 (August14, 2019). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1560.

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Abstract:

IntroductionI have been studying the creation of Metro style train travel in Sydney for over a decade. My focus has been on the impact that media has had on the process (see Richardson, “Curatorial”; “Upheaval”; “Making”). Through extensive expert, public, and media research, I have investigated the coalitions and alliances that have formed (and disintegrated) between political, bureaucratic, news media, and public actors and the influences at work within these actor-networks. As part of this project, I visited an underground Métro turning fifty in Montreal, Canada. After many years studying the development of a train that wasn’t yet tangible, I wanted to ask a functional train the simple ethnomethodological/Latourian style question, “what do you do for a city and its people?” (de Vries). Therefore, in addition to research conducted in Montreal, I spent ten days wandering through many of the entrances, tunnels, staircases, escalators, mezzanines, platforms, doorways, and carriages of which the Métro system consists. The purpose was to observe the train in situ in order to broaden potential conceptualisations of what a train does for a city such as Montreal, with a view of improving the ideas and messages that would be used to “sell” future rapid rail projects in other cities such as Sydney. This article outlines a selection of the pathways wandered, not only to illustrate the power of social research based on physical wandering, but also the potential power the metaphorical and conceptual wandering an Actor-Network Theory (ANT) assemblage affords social research for media communications.Context, Purpose, and ApproachANT is a hybrid theory/method for studying an arena of the social, such as the significance of a train to a city like Montreal. This type of study is undertaken by following the actors (Latour, Reassembling 12). In ANT, actors do something, as the term suggests. These actions have affects and effects. These might be contrived and deliberate influences or completely circumstantial and accidental impacts. Actors can be people as we are most commonly used to understanding them, and they can also be texts, technological devices, software programs, natural phenomena, or random occurrences. Most significantly though, actors are their “relations” (Harman 17). This means that they are only present if they are relating to others. These relations and the resulting influences and impacts are called networks. A network in the ANT sense is not as simple as the lines that connect train stations on a rail map. Without actions, relations, influences, and impacts, there are no actors. Hence the hyphen in actor-network; the actor and the network are symbiotic. The network, rendered visible through actor associations, consists of the tenuous connections that “shuttle back and forth” between actors even in spite of the fact their areas of knowledge and reality may be completely separate (Latour Modern 3). ANT, therefore, may be considered an empirical practice of tracing the actors and the network of influences and impacts that they both help to shape and are themselves shaped by. To do this, central ANT theorist Bruno Latour employs a simple research question: “what do you do?” This is because in the process of doing, somebody or something is observed to be affecting other people or things and an actor-network becomes identifiable. Latour later learned that his approach shared many parallels with ethnomethodology. This was a discovery that more concretely set the trajectory of his work away from a social science that sought explanations “about why something happens, to ontological ones, that is, questions about what is going on” (de Vries). So, in order to make sense of people’s actions and relations, the focus of research became asking the deceptively simple question while refraining as much as possible “from offering descriptions and explanations of actions in terms of schemes taught in social theory classes” (14).In answering this central ANT question, studies typically wander in a metaphorical sense through an array or assemblage (Law) of research methods such as formal and informal interviews, ethnographic style observation, as well as the content analysis of primary and secondary texts (see Latour, Aramis). These were the methods adopted for my Montreal research—in addition to fifteen in-depth expert and public interviews conducted in October 2017, ten days were spent physically wandering and observing the train in action. I hoped that in understanding what the train does for the city and its people, the actor-network within which the train is situated would be revealed. Of course, “what do you do?” is a very broad question. It requires context. In following the influence of news media in the circuitous development of rapid rail transit in Sydney, I have been struck by the limited tropes through which the potential for rapid rail is discussed. These tropes focus on technological, functional, and/or operational aspects (see Budd; Faruqi; Hasham), costs, funding and return on investment (see Martin and O’Sullivan; Saulwick), and the potential to alleviate peak hour congestion (see Clennell; West). As an expert respondent in my Sydney research, a leading Australian architect and planner, states, “How boring and unexciting […] I mean in Singapore it is the most exciting […] the trains are fantastic […] that wasn’t sold to the [Sydney] public.” So, the purpose of the Montreal research is to expand conceptualisations of the potential for rapid rail infrastructure to influence a city and improve communications used to sell projects in the future, as well as to test the role of both physical and metaphorical ANT style wanderings in doing so. Montreal was chosen for three reasons. First, the Métro had recently turned fifty, which made the comparison between the fledgling and mature systems topical. Second, the Métro was preceded by decades of media discussion (Gilbert and Poitras), which parallels the development of rapid transit in Sydney. Finally, a different architect designed each station and most stations feature art installations (Magder). Therefore, the Métro appeared to have transcended the aforementioned functional and numerically focused tropes used to justify the Sydney system. Could such a train be considered a long-term success?Wandering and PathwaysIn ten days I rode the Montreal Métro from end to end. I stopped at all the stations. I wandered around. I treated wandering not just as a physical research activity, but also as an illustrative metaphor for an assemblage of research practices. This assemblage culminates in testimony, anecdotes, stories, and descriptions through which an actor-network may be glimpsed. Of course, it is incomplete—what I have outlined below represents only a few pathways. However, to think that an actor-network can ever be traversed in its entirety is to miss the point. Completion is a fallacy. Wandering doesn’t end at a finish line. There are always pathways left untrodden. I have attempted not to overanalyse. I have left contradictions unresolved. I have avoided the temptation to link paths through tenuous byways. Some might consider that I have meandered, but an actor-network is never linear. I can only hope that my wanderings, as curtailed as they may be, prove nuanced, colourful, and rich—if not compelling. ANT encourages us to rethink social research (Latour, Reassembling). Central to this is acknowledging (and becoming comfortable with) our own role as researcher in the illumination of the actor-network itself.Here are some of the Montreal pathways wandered:First Impressions I arrive at Montreal airport late afternoon. The apartment I have rented is conveniently located between two Métro stations—Mont Royal and Sherbrooke. I use my phone and seek directions by public transport. To my surprise, the only option is the bus. Too tired to work out connections, I decide instead to follow the signs to the taxi rank. Here, I queue. We are underway twenty minutes later. Travelling around peak traffic, we move from one traffic jam to the next. The trip is slow. Finally ensconced in the apartment, I reflect on how different the trip into Montreal had been, from what I had envisaged. The Métro I had travelled to visit was conspicuous in its total absence.FloatingIt is a feeling of floating that first strikes me when riding the Métro. It runs on rubber tyres. The explanation for the choice of this technology differs. There are reports that it was the brainchild of strong-willed mayor, Jean Drapeau, who believed the new technology would showcase Montreal as a modern world-scale metropolis (Gilbert and Poitras). However, John Martins-Manteiga provides a less romantic account, stating that the decision was made because tyres were cheaper (47). I assume the rubber tyres create the floating sensation. Add to this the famous warmth of the system (Magder; Hazan, Hot) and it has a thoroughly calming, even lulling, effect.Originally, I am planning to spend two whole days riding the Métro in its entirety. I make handwritten notes. On the first day, at mid-morning, nausea develops. I am suffering motion sickness. This is a surprise. I have always been fine to read and write on trains, unlike in a car or bus. It causes a moment of realisation. I am effectively riding a bus. This is an unexpected side-effect. My research program changes—I ride for a maximum of two hours at a time and my note taking becomes more circumspect. The train as actor is influencing the research program and the data being recorded in unexpected ways. ArtThe stained-glass collage at Berri-Uquam, by Pierre Gaboriau and Pierre Osterrath, is grand in scale, intricately detailed and beautiful. It sits above the tunnel from which the trains enter and leave the platform. It somehow seems wholly connected to the train as a result—it frames and announces arrivals and departures. Other striking pieces include the colourful, tiled circles from the mezzanine above the platform at station Peel and the beautiful stained-glass panels on the escalator at station Charlevoix. As a public respondent visiting from Chicago contends, “I just got a sense of exploration—that I wanted to have a look around”.Urban FormAn urban planner asserts that the Métro is responsible for the identity and diversity of urban culture that Montreal is famous for. As everyone cannot live right above a Métro station, there are streets around stations where people walk to the train. As there is less need for cars, these streets are made friendlier for walkers, precipitating a cycle. Furthermore, pedestrian-friendly streets promote local village style commerce such as shops, cafes, bars, and restaurants. So, there is not only more access on foot, but also more incentive to access. The walking that the Métro induces improves the dynamism and social aspects of neighbourhoods, a by-product of which is a distinct urban form and culture for different pockets of the city. The actor-network broadens. In following the actors, I now have to wander beyond the physical limits of the system itself. The streets I walk around station Mont Royal are shopping and restaurant strips, rich with foot traffic at all times of day; it is a vibrant and enticing place to wander.Find DiningThe popular MTL blog published a map of the best restaurants the Métro provides access to (Hazan, Restaurant).ArchitectureStation De La Savane resembles a retro medieval dungeon. It evokes thoughts of the television series Game of Thrones. Art and architecture work in perfect harmony. The sculpture in the foyer by Maurice Lemieux resembles a deconstructed metal mace hanging on a brutalist concrete wall. It towers above a grand staircase and abuts a fence that might ring a medieval keep. Up close I realise it is polished, precisely cut cylindrical steel. A modern fence referencing another time and place. Descending to the platform, craggy concrete walls are pitted with holes. I get the sense of peering through these into the hidden chambers of a crypt. Overlaying all of this is a strikingly modern series of regular and irregular, bold vertical striations cut deeply into the concrete. They run from floor to ceiling to add to a cathedral-like sense of scale. It’s warming to think that such a whimsical train station exists anywhere in the world. Time WarpA public respondent describes the Métro:It’s a little bit like a time machine. It’s a piece of the past and piece of history […] still alive now. I think that it brings art or form or beauty into everyday life. […] You’re going from one place to the next, but because of the history and the story of it you could stop and breathe and take it in a little bit more.Hold ups and HostagesA frustrated General Manager of a transport advocacy group states in an interview:Two minutes of stopping in the Métro is like Armageddon in Montreal—you see it on every media, on every smartphone [...] We are so captive in the Métro [there is a] loss of control.Further, a transport modelling expert asserts:You’re a hostage when you’re in transportation. If the Métro goes out, then you really are stuck. Unfortunately, it does go out often enough. If you lose faith in a mode of transportation, it’s going to be very hard to get you back.CommutingIt took me a good week before I started to notice how tired some of the Métro stations had grown. I felt my enthusiasm dip when I saw the estimated arrival time lengthen on the electronic noticeboard. Anger rose as a young man pushed past me from behind to get out of a train before I had a chance to exit. These tendrils of the actor-network were not evident to me in the first few days. Most interview respondents state that after a period of time passengers take less notice of the interesting and artistic aspects of the Métro. They become commuters. Timeliness and consistency become the most important aspects of the system.FinaleI deliberately visit station Champ-de-Mars last. Photos convince me that I am going to end my Métro exploration with an experience to savour. The station entry and gallery is iconic. Martins-Manteiga writes, “The stained-glass artwork by Marcelle Ferron is almost a religious experience; it floods in and splashes down below” (306). My timing is off though. On this day, the soaring stained-glass windows are mostly hidden behind protective wadding. The station is undergoing restoration. Travelling for the last time back towards station Mont Royal, my mood lightens. Although I had been anticipating this station for some time, in many respects this is a revealing conclusion to my Métro wanderings.What Do You Do?When asked what the train does, many respondents took a while to answer or began with common tropes around moving people. As a transport project manager asserts, “in the world of public transport, the perfect trip is the one you don’t notice”. A journalist gives the most considered and interesting answer. He contends:I think it would say, “I hold the city together culturally, economically, physically, logistically—that’s what I do […] I’m the connective tissue of this city”. […] How else do you describe infrastructure that connects poor neighbourhoods to rich neighbourhoods, downtown to outlying areas, that supports all sorts of businesses both inside it and immediately adjacent to it and has created these axes around the city that pull in almost everybody [...] And of course, everyone takes it for granted […] We get pissed off when it’s late.ConclusionNo matter how real a transportation system may be, it can always be made a little less real. Today, for example, the Paris metro is on strike for the third week in a row. Millions of Parisians are learning to get along without it, by taking their cars or walking […] You see? These enormous hundred-year-old technological monsters are no more real than the four-year-old Aramis is unreal: They all need allies, friends […] There’s no inertia, no irreversibility; there’s no autonomy to keep them alive. (Latour, Aramis 86)Through ANT-based physical and metaphorical wanderings, we find many pathways that illuminate what a train does. We learn from various actors in the actor-network through which the train exists. We seek out its “allies” and “friends”. We wander, piecing together as much of the network as we can. The Métro does lots of things. It has many influences and it influences many. It is undeniably an actor in an actor-network. Transport planners would like it to appear seamless—commuters entering and leaving without really noticing the in-between. And sometimes it appears this way. However, when the commuter is delayed, this appearance is shattered. If a signal fails or an engine falters, the Métro, through a process mediated by word of mouth and/or social and mainstream media, is suddenly rendered tired and obsolete. Or is it historic and quaint? Is the train a technical problem for the city of Montreal or is it characterful and integral to the city’s identity? It is all these things and many more. The actor-network is illusive and elusive. Pathways are extensive. The train floats. The train is late. The train makes us walk. The train has seeded many unique villages, much loved. The train is broken. The train is healthy for its age. The train is all that is right with Montreal. The train is all that is wrong with Montreal. The artwork and architecture mean nothing. The artwork and architecture mean everything. Is the train overly limited by the tyres that keep it underground? Of course, it is. Of course, it isn’t. Does 50 years of history matter? Of course, it does. Of course, it doesn’t. It thrives. It’s tired. It connects. It divides. It’s functional. It’s dirty. It’s beautiful. It’s something to be proud of. It’s embarrassing. A train offers many complex and fascinating pathways. It is never simply an object; it lives and breathes in the network because we live and breathe around it. It stops being effective. It starts becoming affective. Sydney must learn from this. My wanderings demonstrate that the Métro cannot be extricated from what Montreal has become over the last half century. In May 2019, Sydney finally opened its first Metro rail link. And yet, this link and other ongoing metro projects continue to be discussed through statistics and practicalities (Sydney Metro). This offers no affective sense of the pathways that are, and will one day be, created. By selecting and appropriating relevant pathways from cities such as Montreal, and through our own wanderings and imaginings, we can make projections of what a train will do for a city like Sydney. We can project a rich and vibrant actor-network through the media in more emotive and powerful ways. Or, can we not at least supplement the economic, functional, or technocratic accounts with other wanderings? Of course, we can’t. Of course, we can. ReferencesBudd, Henry. “Single-Deck Trains in North West Rail Link.” The Daily Telegraph 20 Jun. 2012. 17 Jan. 2018 <https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/nsw/single-deck-trains-in-north-west-rail-link/news-story/f5255d11af892ebb3938676c5c8b40da>.Clennell, Andrew. “All Talk as City Chokes to Death.” The Daily Telegraph 7 Nov. 2011. 2 Jan 2012 <http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/opinion/all-talk-as-city-chokes-to-death/story-e6frezz0-1226187007530>.De Vries, Gerard. Bruno Latour. Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2016.Faruqi, Mehreen. “Is the New Sydney Metro Privatization of the Rail Network by Stealth?” Sydney Morning Herald 7 July 2015. 19 Jan. 2018 <http://www.smh.com.au/comment/is-the-new-sydney-metro-privatisation-of-the-rail-network-by-stealth-20150707-gi6rdg.html>.Game of Thrones. HBO, 2011–2019.Gilbert, Dale, and Claire Poitras. “‘Subways Are Not Outdated’: Debating the Montreal Métro 1940–60.” The Journal of Transport History 36.2 (2015): 209–227. Harman, Graham. Prince of Networks: Bruno Latour and Metaphysics. Melbourne: re.press, 2009.Hasham, Nicole. “Driverless Trains Plan as Berejiklian Does a U-Turn.” Sydney Morning Herald 6 Jun. 2013. 16 Jan. 2018 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/driverless-trains-plan-as-berejiklian-does-a-u-turn-20130606-2ns4h.html>.Hazan, Jeremy. “Montreal’s First-Ever Official Metro Restaurant Map.” MTL Blog 17 May 2010. 11 Oct. 2017 <https://www.mtlblog.com/things-to-do-in-mtl/montreals-first-ever-official-metro-restaurant-map/1>.———. “This Is Why Montreal’s STM Metro Has Been So Hot Lately.” MTL Blog 22 Sep. 2017. 11 Oct. 2017 <https://www.mtlblog.com/whats-happening/this-is-why-montreals-stm-metro-has-been-so-hot-lately>. Latour, Bruno. We Have Never Been Modern. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993.———. Aramis: Or the Love of Technology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996. ———. Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network-Theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.Law, John. After Method: Mess in Social Science Research. New York: Routledge, 2004.Magder, Jason. “The Metro at 50: Building the Network.” Montreal Gazette 13 Oct. 2016. 18 Oct. 2017 <http://montrealgazette.com/news/local-news/the-metro-at-50-building-the-network>.Martin, Peter, and Matt O’Sullivan. “Cabinet Leak: Sydney to Parramatta in 15 Minutes Possible, But Not Preferred.” Sydney Morning Herald 14 Aug. 2017. 7 Dec. 2017 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/cabinet-leak-sydney-to-parramatta-in-15-minutes-possible-but-not-preferred-20170813-gxv226.html>.Martins-Manteiga, John. Métro: Design in Motion. Dominion Modern: Canada 2011.Richardson, Nicholas. “Political Upheaval in Australia: Media, Foucault and Shocking Policy.” ANZCA Conference Proceedings 2015. Eds. D. Paterno, M. Bourk, and D. Matheson.———. “A Curatorial Turn in Policy Development? Managing the Changing Nature of Policymaking Subject to Mediatisation” M/C Journal 18.4 (2015). 7 Aug. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/998>.———. “‘Making it Happen’: Deciphering Government Branding in Light of the Sydney Building Boom.” M/C Journal 20.2 (2017). 7 Aug. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1221>.Saulwick, Jacob. “Plenty of Sums in Rail Plans But Not Everything Adds Up.” Sydney Morning Herald 7 Nov. 2011. 17 Apr. 2012 <http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/politics/plenty-of-sums-in-rail-plans-but-not-everything-adds-up-20111106-1n1wn.html>.Sydney Metro. 16 July 2019. <https://www.sydneymetro.info/>.West, Andrew. “Second Harbour Crossing – or Chaos.” Sydney Morning Herald 31 May 2010. 17 Jan. 2018 <http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/second-harbour-crossing--or-chaos-20100530-wnik.html>.

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"Cercetări efectuate la Băile Figa în anii 2016–2019 și considerații privind deslușirea valențelor unui peisaj salin hibrid / Research carried out at Băile Figa during 2016–2019 Revealing the potential of a hybrid saltscape." ANGVSTIA, December15, 2019, 9–108. http://dx.doi.org/10.36935/ang.v23.1.

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The article presents the preliminary results of the interdisciplinary research (geological and geospatial studies, archaeological excavations, salt production experiments, and ethnographic survey) carried out during 2016-2019, in the site and hybrid saltscape of Băile Figa, well known for its remarkable environmental, ancient and current salt exploitation evidence. Besides, the article aims to evaluate the contribution of the recent research to a better understanding of the environmental context of the site and ancient salt production technology in the Inner Carpathian region. Also, it focuses on the hybrid character of the site and its potential to the transdisciplinary and holistic study. Environmental context. The site is rich in environmental, archaeological and ethnographic evidence. It is positioned in the salt-rich area of the Someșul Mare Basin at the northern edge of the Transylvanian Plain (Fig. 1/2; 2/1). The site is part of the landscape that was and is strongly affected by the dynamics of a salt diapir (Fig. 2/2) and deposits of salt mud, brine and halo-biotic factors, as well as by the intense human activity. Excavation. The excavation was carried out in Trench S.XV (16 m x 14 m), located in the central-southern sector of the site. The trench cut through the stream-bed and steep and high banks of the salt stream that crosses the site from south to north (Fig. 4; 5, 10). Its profile sections show four major stratigraphic units: a blackish topsoil, yellow clay mixed with gravel, salty mud, and the rock salt massif. The excavation was conducted in the mud layer, in the central sector of the trench, and in the clay-and-gravel layer found in its lateral sectors. In the area of ca. 60 square meters of the central sector, the excavation has reached the rock salt massif (Fig. 7-11). The excavation in the trench has uncovered rich evidence for Late Bronze Age salt production: seven interconnected features and around one hundred artifacts. The vast majority of the finds have been uncovered in the mud layer. The uncovered features included five timber structures surviving in the salt mud layer, as well as a ditch and a pit dug in the rock salt massif. Feature 1-XV-2013 (Fig. 12; 14/1) is a structure that includes a cone-shaped wattle-lined pit surrounded by a roundish wattle-made fence. The pit cuts through the mud up to the rock salt massif. Its rock salt bottom was sectioned by a ditch, 0.4-0.5 m wide and over 0.9 m deep. It seems that first, by rather extensive digging, the soil and mud were removed down to the salt massif. Then, a ditch, about 5 m long, 0.4 m wide and over 0.9 m deep (see below), was dug in the rock, from east to west. After that, a cone-shaped outer framework made of wattle (D maximal: 1.2 m, D minimal: 0.4 m, H: 1.8 m) was placed over the ditch, narrow end down. After that, the empty space around the framework was filled with mud. Then the pit was surrounded by a roundish wattle fence. A 1.6 m long massive rope made of three twisted threads (Clematis vitalba) has been found in the ditch (Fig. 41). Four samples taken from the wattle framework have produced five dates which fall between 2821±24 and 2778±26 BP. Feature 2-XV-2013 (Fig. 13) was uncovered in the northern part of the trench, on the right side of the stream, between feature 1-XV-2013 (see above) and the north edge of the trench. It was a rectilinear fence, 3.6 m long, built of vertical planks, split troughs, and channelled pieces, pushed into the mud down to the rock salt massif. Three fragments of the troughs from the fence were dendrochronologically dated to the period between 996 and 980 BC. Feature 1-XV-2015 (Fig. 14) was uncovered in the central-southern part of the trench. It was a corridor, 2.5 m long and 1 m wide, oriented E – W, made of two parallel rectilinear alignments of massive upright poles driven into the mud. One of its poles was at the same time part of the fence of the Feature 1-XV-2013. The corridor, on the base of three samples, has been radiocarbon-dated between 2870±32 and 2718±30 BP. Feature 1-XV-2018 (Fig. 15-17) was partially uncovered in the north-west part of the trench, about 3.5 m west of the stream. It is a 5 m long fence, oriented S – N, made of vertical planks, stakes (Fig. 17/2), and a split trough (Fig. 17/1), stuck into the mud, and four horizontal planks linking them to each other (Fig.17/2). Not dated. Feature 2-XV-2018 (Fig. 18; 19/1) was partially uncovered in the western part of the trench, in the rock salt massif. It is a roundish pit (over 2.5 x 1.8 m) with irregular edges, ca. 1.7 m deep below the salt massif surface. Not dated. Feature 3-XV-2018 (Fig. 19; 20) was uncovered in the central part of the trench. It was a ditch dug in the salt massif, 0.4 to 0.8 m wide, over 0.9 m deep, and about 4 m long. It cuts through the bottom of feature 1-XV-2013 (Fig. 12/2) and links it to the feature 2-XV-2018. Not dated. Feature 4-XV-2018 (Fig. 19/1; 20-22) was uncovered in the south-east corner of the trench, covering about 4 x 4 m, and consisted of a cluster of parallel beams laying on the salt massif, and a few vertical poles. The feature continues eastwards and southwards beyond the sides of the trench. On the base of three samples, it was radiocarbon-dated between 2856±31 and 2817±30 BP. Artifacts. We found some 100 artifacts in Trench S.XV during the excavation seasons, between 2016 and 2019. Most of them were made of wood, 1 of hemp (?), and 3 of stone (basalt). The wooden artifacts include 31 component pieces and fragments of trough bodies (Fig. 24-27), 17 channelled pieces (Fig. 28-30), 2 shovels (Fig. 33), 12 paddles (Fig. 31; 32), 4 mallets (Fig. 34/2,3), an L-shaped haft for a socketedaxe (Fig. 34/1), 2 pans (Fig. 35), a bowl (Fig. 36), fragments of 2 ladders (Fig. 37), 3 knife-shaped tools (Fig. 38/2,3), 11 rods with pointed end (Fig. 38/4), 4 loops made of twisted twigs (Fig. 40), a massive rope made of three twisted threads (Clematis vitalba) (Fig. 41), and 5 wedges. One of the artifacts found was made of plant material, possibly hemp: a small twisted cord (it may come from a peg inserted in the trough hole). Stone (basalt) artifacts include 2 mining hammers (mining tools) with engraved grooves aimed to fix the bindings (Fig. 44/1,3), an ovoid-shaped object with many percussion marks at its thicker end (Fig. 44/2). The chronology of the finds. In 2018 4 samples (wattle) from the Feature 1-XV-2013 were dated at Oxford University Research Laboratory for Archaeology and the History of Art / Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit. In 2019 some of the timber features (1-XV-2015 and 4-XV-2018) and wooden artifacts (the ladder, the troughs nos. 4 and 5 and some others) were radiocarbon dated by “Horia Hulubei” National Institute for Research and Development in Physics and Nuclear Engineering. Most of the dates fall between 1000 – 900 cal BC. Just one date (a wooden bowl) falls between ca. 1419-1262 cal BC (Tabels 1, 2, 3). The structures and most of the artifacts uncovered in S.XV date to ca. XI-IX centuries cal BC and seem to have been part of a complex production system aimed at brine and rock salt processing. Differential distribution of finds across the site. The research has revealed differential distribution of finds across the site. Thus, the evidence dating to ca. 2300 – 2000 cal BC (a pit dug in the rock massif and pottery), 1600 – 1400 cal BC (a wattle-built structure and wooden troughs), and 400 – 180 cal BC (timber-lined shaft, a wooden ladder and pottery) is mainly concentrated in the southern sector of the site. In exchange, the finds dating to ca. 1400 – 1100 cal BC have mainly been uncovered in the south-central part of the site (timber structures) and northern part of the site (pottery). The evidence dating to about 1050 – 850 cal BC covers two distinct areas: the south-central and northern sectors of the site. While about thirty fragmented troughs have been found in the south-central sector, no one object of this kind has been found in the northern sector. There are also differences concerning the timber structures between these sectors of the site. These strongly suggest that in XI – IX centuries cal BC, at least two different and complementary production areas were active in the site. Salt production experiments. The experiments on salt production, using faithful replicas of Late Bronze Age artifacts uncovered in trenches S.I and S.XV – troughs, channelled pieces, mallets, wedges, stone mining hammers, etc. – aimed to obtain from the different source material – rock salt massif, brine, and mud – various forms of salt: lumps of rock salt, fine salt, and highly concentrated and pure brine. The experiments showed the technical validity of several techniques. The most effective were as follows: 1. Detaching lumps of rock salt from the massif. By means of jets of fresh water directed with the troughs (along the twisted cords fitted in the perforations of the sticks that went through the pegs which were fixed in the holes at the base of the trough) depressions were simultaneously created in the rock salt at ten to twenty spots, 10 to 15 cm apart and 7 to 12 cm deep. This process took few hours (Fig. 45/1). It was noticed that each hole generated one to three cracks in the salt massif, around 1 m long and 5 to 10 cm deep. The holes and cracks allowed the insertion of wooden wedges. By hitting them with heavy wooden mallets, the wedges were pushed down to ca. 20 cm deep. Finally, using hooked sticks, many blocks of rock salt could be detached from the massif. The larger blocks were easily broken by stone hammers (mining tools). 2. Producing small pieces of salt and fine salt from the rock salt massif. The first stages of the process were identical to the previously described. After the holes and cracks were created, the rock salt mass was beaten with stone hammers (mining tools) along the cracks and holes, so that small pieces of salt, as well as wet and soft fine salt, were easily separated from the mass. Thus, about 50 kilograms of fine salt were collected in 30 minutes during the experiment (Fig. 45/2). 3. Boiling brine in the troughs with hot stones and drawing off the brine. Stones heated as much as possible in a fire were immersed in the brine with which the trough was filled, thus bringing it to the boil (Fig. 46). The boiling continued until the salt begun to crystallize. After that, the trough, full of highly concentrated brine, was left motionless for several hours. The insoluble impurities of the brine sedimented according to their specific weight: the lightest of them floated to the top, while the heaviest (metals and minerals) settled on the bottom. Above the sediment lying on the bottom of the trough and under that at the top remained a rather thick layer of fairly clean brine. During the experiments, the lower sediment has never reached 3 cm in thickness. The wider tops of the plugs that were inserted into the holes found at the bottom of the trough, were at least 3 cm high. Because of this, the upper edges of the plugs remained above the sediment on the bottom of the trough. We then slightly raised the long sticks that were tightly inserted into the axial holes of the plugs, which in turn tightly closed the holes in the trough’s bottom. The sticks were fixed and maintained in a slightly raised position by a kind of pliers – half split twigs – set transversely over the trough opening. In this way, the brine was allowed to drain easily into channelled pieces set under the trough. The brine then flowed through the channelled pieces to the next trough(s). The process could be repeated in the next trough(s) until the salt makers would get a fairly clean and highly concentrated brine. Ethnographic survey. Băile Figa and its surroundings are places where the evidence for ethnographic research, of what is commonly called ‘the traditional salt civilization’, can still be found. In every ancient salt production archaeological site known in Romania, without any exception, the current folk salt exploitation is still in progress. The latter offers to these sites a valuable research potential, almost unique in Europe, for the ethnoarchaeological research. The ethnographic survey has attested a number of aspects of the present-day folk ways of exploiting brine, rock salt, salt mud, and halophytic vegetation, as well as other traditional practices and customs related to these resources. Brine folk exploitation. The most exploited saline occurrence at Băile Figa is currently brine. Brine is taken directly from the numerous springs filling the central salty stream valley (Fig. 48/1). Then, it is loaded into plastic drums of 50 to 200 litres and transported by carts to the neighbouring villages (Fig. 48/2). The locals told us that, in the past, the brine was transported in large, cone-shaped barrels, called “bote mari”, of 60 litres, made of softwood boards connected to each other with circles of hazel twigs (Fig. 49/5), in smaller containers, of approx. 20 litres, called “barbânțe” (Fig. 49/3), as well as in smaller containers hollowed out of tree trunks and called “bote” (Fig. 49/2). The most remote localities, to which the brine from Băile Figa is transported, are situated at a distance of 11 km. But most people that currently get brine from Băile Figa live within a maximum perimeter of 6 km. Brine is mainly used for preserving meat, bacon (especially around the winter holidays), and vegetables. Sometimes the brine is used for health care purposes, mainly against colds, rheumatic pains, skin diseases or circulatory deficiencies, either on the spot or at home. In the 1960s and 1970s, the locals built two brine ponds and used them for health cure baths. Rock salt folk exploitation. According to some elderly locals, until 1989, the rock salt was periodically extracted at Băile Figa, by manual or mechanized digging of vertical pits. It was mainly used to supplement the feed of domestic animals in the individual households, sheepfolds (Fig. 50) and collective farms or state agricultural enterprises. Sometimes, the locals crushed and grinded salt lumps. In some households in the village of Figa, we have identified and documented some primitive millstones used in salt grinding (Fig. 49/1). Ground salt is added to animal feed and very rarely in human food, people being sure that this kind of salt can harm their health. Sapropelic mud folk exploitation. The ethnographic surveys have documented the traditional exploitation of sapropelic mud at Băile Figa. It is found only in some limited spots of the salt stream valley. The spots with small deposits of sapropelic mud are known only by “connoisseurs” who, among the clues, are guided by a specific smell. The sapropelic mud is used for health care purposes, especially for the treatment of rheumatic diseases. The mud is applied, either on most of the body or only on the parts affected by pain. Sometimes, the mud is applied to animal wounds, for disinfection and drying. Mud-based treatments are done both on-site and at home. Shepherding. Until the building, during 2007 – 2011, of the leisure resort, Băile Figa was the favourite place for grazing for the local domestic animals (sheep, cows, buffaloes, and horses). The animals, according to the information delivered by the shepherds, loved salt grass and brine (Fig. 49/2). Shepherds tried to prevent the animals from drinking brine from the springs because their fondness of the salty taste made them to drink it in unhealthy quantities, so that they could “swell” and die. Beekeeping. In the northern sector of the salt stream valley, at the surface of the soil, in the summer of 2018, a primitive beehive made of a hollowed-out oak trunk was discovered (Fig. 48/4). So far, as we can know, it is a unique find of this sort in a saline context.

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Harrison, Paul. "Remaining Still." M/C Journal 12, no.1 (February25, 2009). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.135.

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A political minimalism? That would obviously go against the grain of our current political ideology → in fact, we are in an era of political maximalisation (Roland Barthes 200, arrow in original).Barthes’ comment is found in the ‘Annex’ to his 1978 lecture course The Neutral. Despite the three decade difference I don’t things have changed that much, certainly not insofar as academic debate about the cultural and social is concerned. At conferences I regularly hear the demand that the speaker or speakers account for the ‘political intent’, ‘worth’ or ‘utility’ of their work, or observe how speakers attempt to pre-empt and disarm such calls through judicious phrasing and citing. Following his diagnosis Barthes (201-206) proceeds to write under the title ‘To Give Leave’. Here he notes the incessant demand placed upon us, as citizens, as consumers, as representative cultural subjects and as biopolitical entities and, in this context, as academics to have and to communicate our allegiances, views and opinions. Echoing the acts, (or rather the ‘non-acts’), of Melville’s Bartleby, Barthes describes the scandalous nature of suspending the obligation of holding views; the apparent immorality of suspending the obligation of being interested, engaged, opinionated, committed – even if one only ever suspends provisionally, momentarily even. For the length of a five thousand word essay perhaps. In this short, unfortunately telegraphic and quite speculative essay I want pause to consider a few gestures or figures of ‘suspension’, ‘decline’ and ‘remaining aside’. What follows is in three parts. First a comment on the nature of the ‘demand to communicate’ identified by Barthes and its links to longer running moral and practical imperatives within Western understandings of the subject, the social and the political. Second, the most substantial section but still an all too brief account of the apparent ‘passivity’ of the narrator of Imre Kertész’s novel Fatelessness and the ways in which the novel may be read as a reflection on the nature of agency and determination. Third, a very brief conclusion, the question directly; what politics or what apprehension of politics, could a reflection on stillness and its ‘political minimalism’ offer? 1.For Barthes, (in 1978), one of the factors defining the contemporary intellectual scene was the way in which “politics invades all phenomena, economic, cultural, ethical” coupled with the “radicalization” of “political behaviors” (200), perhaps most notably in the arrogance of political discourse as it assumes the place of a master discourse. Writing in 1991 Bill Readings identified a similar phenomenon. For Readings the category of the political and politically inspired critique were operating by encircling their objects within a presupposed “universal language of political significance into which one might translate everything according to its effectivity”, an approach which has the effect of always making “the political […] the bottom line, the last instance where meaning can be definitively asserted” (quoted in Clark 3) or, we may add, realized. There is, of course, much that could be said here, not least concerning the significant differences in context, (between, for example, the various forms of revolutionary Marxism, Communism and Maoism which seem to preoccupy Barthes and the emancipatory identity and cultural politics which swept through literature departments in the US and beyond in the last two decades of the twentieth century). However it is also possible to suggest that a general grammar and, moreover, a general acceptance of a telos of the political persists.Barthes' (204-206) account of ‘political maximalisation’ is accompanied by a diagnosis of its productivist virility, (be it, in 1978, on the part of the increasingly reduced revolutionary left or the burgeoning neo-liberal right). The antithesis, or, rather, the outside of such an arrangement or frame would not be another political program but rather a certain stammering, a lassitude or dilatoriness. A flaccidness even; “a devirilized image” wherein from the point of view of the (political) actor or critic, “you are demoted to the contemptible mass of the undecided of those who don’t know who to vote for: old, lost ladies whom they brutalize: vote however you want, but vote” (Barthes 204). Hence Barthes is not suggesting a counter-move, a radical refusal, a ‘No’ shouted back to the information saturated market society. What is truly scandalous he suggests, is not opposition or refusal but the ‘non-reply’. What is truly scandalous, roughish even, is the decline or deferral and so the provisional suspension of the choice (and the blackmail) of the ‘yes’ or ‘no’, the ‘this’ or the ‘that’, the ‘with us’ or ‘against us’.In Literature and Evil Georges Bataille concludes his essay on Kafka with a comment on such a decline. According to Bataille, the reason why Kafka remains an ambivalent writer for critics, (and especially for those who would seek to enrol his work to political ends), lays precisely in his constant withdrawal; “There was nothing he [Kafka] could have asserted, or in the name of which he could have spoken. What he was, which was nothing, only existed to the extent in which effective activity condemned him” (167). ‘Effective activity’ refers, contextually, to a certain form of Communism but more broadly to the rationalization or systematization intrinsic to any political program, political programs (or ideologies) as such, be they communist, liberal or libertarian. At least insofar as, as implied above, the political is taken to coincide with a certain metaphysics and morality of action and the consequent linking of freedom to work, (a factor common to communist, fascist and liberal political programs), and so to the labour of the progressive self-realization and achievement of the self, the autos or ipse (see Derrida 6-18). Be it via, for example, Marx’s account of human’s intrinsic ‘capacity for work’ (Arbeitskraft), Heidegger’s account of necessary existential (and ultimately communal) struggle (Kampf), or Weber’s diagnoses of the (Protestant/bourgeois) liberal project to realize human potentiality (see also Agamben Man without Content; François 1-64). Hence what is ‘evil’ in Kafka is not any particular deed but the deferral of deeds; his ambivalence or immorality in the eyes of certain critics being due to the question his writing poses to “the ultimate authority of action” (Bataille 153) and so to the space beyond action onto which it opens. What could this space of ‘worklessness’ or ‘unwork’ look like? This non-virile, anti-heroic space? This would not be a space of ‘inaction’, (a term still too dependent, albeit negatively, on action), but of ‘non-action’; of ‘non-productive’ or non-disclosive action. That is to say, and as a first attempt at definition, ‘action’ or ‘praxis’, if we can still call it that, which does not generate or bring to light any specific positive content. As a way to highlight the difficulties and pitfalls, (at least with certain traditions), which stand in the way of thinking such a space, we may highlight Giorgio Agamben’s comments on the widespread coincidence of a metaphysics of action with the determination of both the subject, its teleology and its orientation in the world:According to current opinion, all of man’s [sic] doing – that of the artist and the craftsman as well as that of the workman and the politician – is praxis – manifestation of a will that produces a concrete effect. When we say that man has a productive status on earth, we mean, that the status of his dwelling on the earth is a practical one […] This productive doing now everywhere determines the status of man on earth – man understood as the living being (animal) that works (laborans), and, in work, produces himself (Man without Content 68; 70-71 original emphasis).Beyond or before practical being then, that is to say before and beyond the determination of the subject as essentially or intrinsically active and engaged, another space, another dwelling. Maybe nocturnal, certainly one with a different light to that of the day; one not gathered in and by the telos of the ipse or the turning of the autos, an interruption of labour, an unravelling. Remaining still, unravelling together (see Harrison In the absence).2.Kertész’s novel Sorstalanság was first published in his native Hungary in 1975. It has been translated into English twice, in 1992 as Fateless and in 2004 as Fatelessness. Fatelessness opens in Budapest on the day before György Köves’ – the novel’s fourteen year old narrator – father has to report for ‘labour service’. It goes on to recount Köves’ own detention and deportation and the year spent in the camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau, Buchenwald and Zeitz. During this period Köves’ health declines, gradually at first and then rapidly to a moment of near death. He survives and the novel closes with his return to his home town. Köves is, as Kertész has put it in various interviews and as is made clear in the novel, a ‘non-Jewish Jew’; a non-practicing and non-believing Hungarian Jew from a largely assimilated family who neither reads nor speaks Hebrew or Yiddish. While Kertész has insisted that the novel is precisely that, a novel, a work of literature and not an autobiography, we should note that Kertész was himself imprisoned in Buchenwald and Zeitz when fourteen.Not without reservations but for the sake of brevity I shall focus on only one theme in the novel; determination and agency, or what Kertész calls ‘determinacy’. Writing in his journal Galley Boat-Log (Gályanapló) in May 1965 Kertész suggests ‘Novel of Fatelessness’ as a possible title for his work and then reflects on what he means by ‘fate’, the entry is worth quoting at length.The external determinacy, the stigma which constrains our life in a situation, an absurdity, in the given totalitarianism, thwarts us; thus, when we live out the determinacy which is doled out to us as a reality, instead of the necessity which stems from our own (relative) freedom – that is what I call fatelessness.What is essential is that our determinacy should always be in conflict with our natural views and inclinations; that is how fatelessness manifests itself in a chemically pure state. The two possible modes of protection: we transform into our determinacy (Kafka’s centipede), voluntarily so to say, and I that way attempt to assimilate our determinacy to our fate; or else we rebel against it, and so fall victim to our determinacy. Neither of these is a true solution, for in both cases we are obliged to perceive our determinacy […] as reality, whilst the determining force, that absurd power, in a way triumphs over us: it gives us a name and turns us into an object, even though we were born for other things.The dilemma of my ‘Muslim’ [Köves]: How can he construct a fate out of his own determinacy? (Galley Boat-Log 98 original emphasis).The dilemma of determinacy then; how can Köves, who is both determined by and superfluous to the Nazi regime, to wider Hungarian society, to his neighbours and to his family, gain some kind of control over his existence? Throughout Fatelessness people prove repeatedly unable to control their destinies, be it Köves himself, his father, his stepmother, his uncles, his friends from the oil refinery, or even Bandi Citrom, Köves’ mentor in the camps. The case of the ‘Expert’ provides a telescoped example. First appearing when Köves and his friends are arrested the ‘Expert’ is an imposing figure, well dressed, fluent in German and the director of a factory involved in the war effort (Fatelessness 50). Later at the brickworks, where the Jews who have been rounded up are being held prior to deportation, he appears more dishevelled and slightly less confident. Still, he takes the ‘audacious’ step of addressing a German officer directly (and receives some placatory ‘advice’ as his reward) (68-69). By the time the group arrives at the camp Köves has difficulty recognising him and without a word of protest, the ‘Expert’ does not pass the initial selection (88).Köves displays no such initiative with regard to his situation. He is reactive or passive, never active. For Köves events unfold as a series of situations and circumstances which are, he tells himself, essentially reasonable and to which he has to adapt and conform so that he may get on. Nothing more than “given situations with the new givens inherent in them” (259), as he explains near the end of the novel. As Köves' identity papers testify, his life and its continuation are the effect of arbitrary sets of circumstances which he is compelled to live through; “I am not alive on my own account but benefiting the war effort in the manufacturing industry” (29). In his Nobel lecture Kertész described Köves' situation:the hero of my novel does not live his own time in the concentration camps, for neither his time nor his language, not even his own person, is really his. He doesn’t remember; he exists. So he has to languish, poor boy, in the dreary trap of linearity, and cannot shake off the painful details. Instead of a spectacular series of great and tragic moments, he has to live through everything, which is oppressive and offers little variety, like life itself (Heureka! no pagination).Without any wilful or effective action on the part of the narrator and with only ‘the dreary trap of linearity’ where one would expect drama, plot, rationalization or stylization, Fatelessness can read as an arbitrarily punctuated series of waitings. Köves waiting for his father to leave, waiting in the customs shed, waiting at the brick works, waiting in train carriages, waiting on the ramp, waiting at roll call, waiting in the infirmary. Here is the first period of waiting described in the book, it is the day before his father’s departure and he is waiting for his father and stepmother as they go through the accounts at the family shop:I tried to be patient for a bit. Striving to think of Father, and more specifically the fact that he would be going tomorrow and, quite probably, I would not see him for a long time after that; but after a while I grew weary with that notion and then seeing as there was nothing else I could do for my father, I began to be bored. Even having to sit around became a drag, so simply for the sake of a change I stood up to take a drink of water from the tap. They said nothing. Later on, I also made my way to the back, between the planks, in order to pee. On returning I washed my hands at the rusty, tiled sink, then unpacked my morning snack from my school satchel, ate that, and finally took another drink from the tap. They still said nothing. I sat back in my place. After that, I got terribly bored for another absolute age (Fatelessness 9). It is interesting to consider exactly how this passage presages those that will come. Certainly this scene is an effect of the political context, his father and stepmother have to go through the books because of the summons to labour service and because of the racial laws on who may own and profit from a business. However, the specifically familial setting should not be overlooked, particularly when read alongside Kertész’s other novels where, as Madeleine Gustafsson writes, Communist dictatorship is “portrayed almost as an uninterrupted continuation of life in the camp – which in turn [...] is depicted as a continuation of the patriarchal dictatorship of a joyless childhood” (no pagination, see, for example, Kertész Kaddish). Time to turn back to our question; does Fatelessness provide an answer to the ‘dilemma of determinacy’? We should think carefully before answering. As Julia Karolle suggests, the composition of the novel and our search for a logic within itreveal the abuses that reason must endure in order to create any story or history about the Holocaust […]. Ultimately Kertész challenges the reader not to make up for the lack of logic in Fatelessness, but rather to consider the nature of its absence (92 original emphasis).Still, with this point in mind, (and despite what has been said above), the novel does contain a scene in which Köves appears to affirm his existence.In many respects the scene is the culmination of the novel. The camps have been liberated and Köves has returned to Budapest. Finding his father and step-mother’s apartment occupied by strangers he calls on his Aunt and Uncle Fleischmann and Uncle Steiner. The discussion which follows would repay a slower reading, however again for the sake of brevity I shall focus on only a few short excerpts. Köves suggests that everyone took their ‘steps’ towards the events which have unfolded and that prediction and retrospection are false perspectives which give the illusion of order and inevitability whereas, in reality, “everything becomes clear only gradually, sequentially over time, step-by-step” (Fatelessness 249): “They [his Uncles] too had taken their own steps. They too […] had said farewell to my father as if we had already buried him, and even later has squabbled about whether I should take the train or the suburban bus to Auschwitz” (260). Fleischmann and Steiner react angrily, claiming that such an understanding makes the ‘victims’ the ‘guilty ones’. Köves responds by saying that they do not understand him and asks they see that:It was impossible, they must try to understand, impossible to take everything away from me, impossible for me to be neither winner nor loser, for me not to be right and not to be mistaken that I was neither the cause nor effect of anything; they should try to see, I almost pleaded, that I could not swallow that idiotic bitterness, that I should merely be innocent (260-261).Karolle (93-94) suggests that Köves' discussion with his uncles marks the moment where he accepts and affirms his existence and, from this point on begins to take control of and responsibility. Hence for Karolle the end of the novel depicts an ‘authentic’ moment of self-affirmation as Köves steps forward and refuses to participate in “the factual historical narrative of Auschwitz, to forget what he knows, and to be unequivocally categorized as a victim of history” (95). In distinction to Karolle, Adrienne Kertzer argues that Köves' moment of self-affirmation is, in fact, one of self-deception. Rather than acknowledging that it was “inexplicable luck” and a “series of random acts” (Kertzer 122) which saved his life or that his near death was due to an accident of birth, Köves asserts his personal freedom. Hence – and following István Deák – Kertzer suggests that we should read Fatelessness as a satire, ‘a modern Candide’. A satire on the hope of finding meaning, be it personal or metaphysical, in such experiences and events, the closing scenes of the novel being an ironic reflection on the “desperate desire to see […] life as meaningful” (Kertzer 122). So, while Köves convinces himself of his logic his uncles say to each other “‘Leave him be! Can’t you see he only wants to talk? Let him talk! Leave him be!’ And talk I did, albeit possibly to no avail and even a little incoherently” (Fatelessness 259). Which are we to choose then? The affirmation of agency (with Karolle) or the diagnosis of determination (with Kertzer)? Karolle and Kertzer give insightful analyses, (and ones which are certainly not limited to the passages quoted above), however it seems to me that they move too quickly to resolve the ‘dilemma’ presented by Köves, if not of Fatelessness as a whole. Still, we have a little time before having to name and decide Köves’ fate. Kertész’s use of the word ‘hero’ to describe Köves above – ‘the hero of my novel…’ – is, perhaps, more than a little ironic. As Kertész asks (in 1966), how can there be a hero, how can one be heroic, when one is one’s ‘determinacies’? What sense does it make to speak of heroic actions if “man [sic] is no more than his situation”? (Galley Boat-Log 99). Köves’ time, his language, his identity, none are his. There is no place, no hidden reservoir of freedom, from which way he set in motion any efficacious action. All resources have already been corrupted. From Kertész’s journal (in 1975): “The masters of thought and ideologies have ruined my thought processes” (Galley Boat-Log 104). As Lawrence Langer has argued, the grammar of heroics, along with the linked terms ‘virtue’, ‘dignity’, ‘resistance’ ‘survival’ and ‘liberation’, (and the wider narrative and moral economies which these terms indicate and activate), do not survive the events being described. Here the ‘dilemma of determinacy’ becomes the dilemma of how to think and value the human outside or after such a grammar. How to think and value the human beyond a grammar of action and so beyond, as Lars Iyer puts it, “the equation of work and freedom that characterizes the great discourses of political modernity” (155). If this is possible. If such a grammar and equation isn’t too all pervasive, if something of the human still remains outside their economy. It may well be that our ability to read Fatelessness depends in large part on what we are prepared to forsake (see Langar 195). How to think the subject and a politics in contretemps, beyond or after the choice between determination or autonomy, passive or active, inaction or action, immoral or virtuous – if only for a moment? Kertész wonders, (in 1966), ”perhaps there is something to be savaged all the same, a tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail that may be a sign of the will to live and still awakens sympathy” (Galley Boat-Log 99). Something, perhaps, which remains to be salvaged from the grammar of humanism, something that would not be reducible to context, to ‘determinacies’, and that, at the same time, does not add up to a (resurrected) agent. ‘A tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail’. The press release announcing that Kertész had been awarded the Nobel prize for literature states that “For Kertész the spiritual dimension of man lies in his inability to adapt to life” (The Swedish Academy no pagination). Despite the difficulties presented by the somewhat over-determined term ‘spiritual’, this line strikes me as remarkably perspicuous. Like Melville’s Bartleby and Bataille’s Kafka before him, Kertész’s Köves’ existence, insofar as he exists, is made up by his non-action. That is to say, his existence is defined not by his actions or his inaction, (both of which are purely reactive and functional), but rather by his irreducibility to either. As commentators and critics have remarked, (and as the quotes given from the text above hopefully illustrate), Köves has an oddly formal and neutral ‘voice’. Köves’ blank, frequently equivocal tone may be read as a sign of his immaturity, his lack of understanding and his naivety. However I would suggest that before such factors, what characterizes Köves’ mode of address is its reticence to assert or disclose. Köves speaks, he speaks endlessly, but he says nothing or almost nothing - ‘to no avail and even a little incoherently’. Hence where Karolle seeks to recover an ‘intoned self-consciousness’ and Kertzer the repressed determining context, we may find Köves' address. Where Karolle’s and Kertzer’s approaches seek in some way to repair Köves words, to supplement them with either an agency to-come or an awareness of a context and, in doing so, pull his words fully into the light, Köves, it seems to me, remains elusive. His existence, insofar as we may speak of it, lies in his ‘inability to adapt to life’. His reserves are not composed of hidden or recoverable sources of agency but in his equivocality, in the way he takes leave of and remains aside from the very terms of the dilemma. It is as if with no resources of his own, he has an echo existence. As if still remaining itself where a tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail.3.Is this it? Is this what we are to be left with in a ‘political minimalism’? It would seem more resignation or failure, turning away or quietism, the conceit of a beautiful soul, than any type of recognisable politics. On one level this is correct, however any such suspension or withdrawal, this moment of stillness where we are, is only ever a moment. However it is a moment which indicates a certain irreducibility and as such is, I believe, of great significance. Great significance, (or better ‘signifyingness’), even though – and precisely because – it is in itself without value. Being outside efficacy, labour or production, being outside economisation as such, it resides only in its inability to be integrated. What purpose does it serve? None. Or, perhaps, none other than demonstrating the irreducibility of a life, of a singular existence, to any discourse, narrative, identity or ideology, insofar as such structures, in their attempt to comprehend (or apprehend) the existent and put it to use always and violently fall short. As Theodor Adorno wrote;It is this passing-on and being unable to linger, this tacit assent to the primacy of the general over the particular, which constitutes not only the deception of idealism in hypostasizing concepts, but also its inhumanity, that has no sooner grasped the particular than it reduces it to a thought-station, and finally comes all too quickly to terms with suffering and death (74 emphasis added).This moment of stillness then, of declining and remaining aside, represents, for me, the anarchical and all but silent condition of possibility for all political strategy as such (see Harrison, Corporeal Remains). A condition of possibility which all political strategy carries within itself, more or less well, more or less consciously, as a memory of the finite and corporeal nature of existence. A memory which may always and eventually come to protest against the strategy itself. Strategy itself as strategy; as command, as a calculated and calculating order. And so, and we should be clear about this, such a remaining still is a demonstration.A demonstration not unlike, for example, that of the general anonymous population in José Saramago’s remarkable novel Seeing, who ‘act’ more forcefully through non-action than any through any ends-directed action. A demonstration of the kind which Agamben writes about after those in Tiananmen Square in 1989:The novelty of the coming politics is that it will no longer be the struggle for control of the state, but a struggle between the State and the non-State (humanity) […] [who] cannot form a societas because they do not poses any identity to vindicate or bond of belonging for which to seek recognition (Coming Community 85-67; original emphasis).A demonstration like that which sounds through Köves when his health fails in the camps and he finds himself being wheeled on a handcart taken for dead;a snatch of speech that I was barely able to make out came to my attention, and in that hoarse whispering I recognized even less readily the voice that has once – I could not help recollecting – been so strident: ‘I p … pro … test,’ it muttered” (Fatelessness 187 ellipses in original).The inmate pushing the cart stops and pulls him up by the shoulders, asking with astonishment “Was? Du willst noch leben? [What? You still want to live?] […] and right then I found it odd, since it could not have been warranted and, on the whole, was fairly irrational (187).AcknowledgmentsMy sincere thanks to the editors of this special issue, David Bissell and Gillian Fuller, for their interest, encouragement and patience. Thanks also to Sadie, especially for her comments on the final section. ReferencesAdorno, Theodor. Minima Moralia: Reflections on a Damaged Life. London: Verso, 1974.Agamben, Giorgio. The Coming Community. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1990.———. The Man without Content. Stanford: Stanford U P, 1999.Barthes, Roland. The Neutral. New York: Columbia U P, 2005.Bataille, Georges. Literature and Evil. London: Marion Boyars, 1985.Clarke, Timothy. The Poetics of Singularity: The Counter-Culturalist Turn in Heidegger, Derrida, Blanchot and the Late Gadamer. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U P, 2005.Deák, István. "Stranger in Hell." New York Review of Books 23 Sep. 2003: 65-68.Derrida, Jacques. Rogues. Two Essays on Reason. Stanford: Stanford U P, 2005.François, Anne-Lise. Open Secrets. The Literature of Uncounted Experience. Stanford: Stanford U P, 2008.Gustafsson, Madeleine. 2003 “Imre Kertész: A Medium for the Spirit of Auschwitz.” 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/articles/gustafsson/index.html›.Harrison, Paul. “Corporeal Remains: Vulnerability, Proximity, and Living On after the End of the World.” Environment and Planning A 40 (2008): 423-445.———.“In the Absence of Practice.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space forthcoming.Heidegger, Martin. Introduction to Metaphysics. London: Yale U P, 2000.Iyer, Lars. Blanchot’s Communism: Art, Philosophy and the Political. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004.Karolle, Julia. “Imre Kertész Fatelessness as Historical Fiction.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue U P, 2005. 89-96.Kertész, Imre. 2002 “Heureka!” Nobel lecture. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2002/kertesz-lecture-e.html›.———. Fatelessness. London: Vintage, 2004.———. Kaddish for an Unborn Child. London: Vintage International, 2004.———.“Galley Boat-Log (Gályanapló): Excerpts.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2005. 97-110.Kertzer, Adrienne. “Reading Imre Kertesz in English.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári, and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue U P, 2005. 111-124.Langer, Lawrence. Holocaust Testimonies: The Ruins of Memory. London: Yale U P, 1991.Melville, Herman. Bartleby the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street. New Jersey: Melville House, 2004.Marx, Karl. Capital Volume 1. London: Penguin Books, 1976.Readings, Bill. “The Deconstruction of Politics.” In Deconstruction: A Reader. Ed Martin McQuillan. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U P, 2000. 388-396.Saramago, José. Seeing. London: Vintage, 2007. The Swedish Academy. "The Nobel Prize in Literature 2002: Imre Kertész." 2002. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2002/press.html›.Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. London: Routledge, 1992.

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