Zeitschriftenartikel zum Thema „Feu – Façades“

Bowing is an uncommon pathology that can affect marble stone cladding of building façades, causing a large permanent deflection and the degradation of the flexural and anchoring strength of the stone slabs, which can lead to the cladding falling from the façades. Moreover, the combination of bowing with wind pressure effects on the building façades can increase the risk of fracture and collapse of the stone slabs, especially if this combination is not properly evaluated during design. Motivated by a case study, this work describes a stability evaluation of a 15-year-old building façade coated with marble stone cladding affected by bowing and subjected to wind pressures. This evaluation was focused on the stone slabs, and was performed through finite element model (FEM) numerical simulations of these slabs submitted to wind pressures and through lab tests using samples of stone slabs removed from the building façade. The results obtained demonstrated stability problems on the stone slabs caused by wind pressure-induced stresses combined with the loss of strength due to aging and bowing effects, especially for slabs with larger dimensions.

This paper presents a numerical analysis of a steel double-arm connector, according to the authors’ solution, designed for fixation of glass façades. The analysis was carried out in order to obtain a distribution of stresses and displacements, on the basis of which global displacements and maximum stresses were determined. An additional element of the solution was the use of the M8 bolt, as a linking element of the steel walls of both arms. The numerical simulation was performed using the ADINA program, which is based on the finite element method (FEM). The dynamic effect of wind gusts on the glass façade was assumed, taking into account both wind pressure and suction. The adoption of a rectangular element of the glass façade causes an unfavorable load distribution at the connection point. The conducted research allowed to determine displacements and stresses in a steel connector made of S355JR steel. The applicability of the proposed solution for glass façades with a height of up to 100 m has been demonstrated.

In recent years active façades have acquired greater importance given their capacity to improve the energy efficiency of buildings. One such type is the so-called Active Transparent Façade (ATF). A 3D numerical model based on computational fluid dynamics (CFD) and the Finite Element Method (FEM) has been generated to simulate the thermal performance of buildings equipped with this type of façade. This model is introduced for general application and allows the design parameters to be adapted for this system. The case study of Le Corbusier’s proposal for the City of Refuge in Paris, the clearest example of previous use of an ATF is examined. In addition, a proposal is presented for the energy improvement of Le Corbusier’s original solution. In order to do so, the conditions for the supply of air into the ATF cavity and in the mechanical ventilation system are assessed to guarantee comfort conditions.

Urban search and rescue (USaR) teams require a fast and thorough building damage assessment, to focus their rescue efforts accordingly. Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV) are able to capture relevant data in a short time frame and survey otherwise inaccessible areas after a disaster, and have thus been identified as useful when coupled with RGB cameras for façade damage detection. Existing literature focuses on the extraction of 3D and/or image features as cues for damage. However, little attention has been given to the efficiency of the proposed methods which hinders its use in an urban search and rescue context. The framework proposed in this paper aims at a more efficient façade damage detection using UAV multi-view imagery. This was achieved directing all damage classification computations only to the image regions containing the façades, hence discarding the irrelevant areas of the acquired images and consequently reducing the time needed for such task. To accomplish this, a three-step approach is proposed: i) building extraction from the sparse point cloud computed from the nadir images collected in an initial flight; ii) use of the latter as proxy for façade location in the oblique images captured in subsequent flights, and iii) selection of the façade image regions to be fed to a damage classification routine. The results show that the proposed framework successfully reduces the extracted façade image regions to be assessed for damage 6 fold, hence increasing the efficiency of subsequent damage detection routines. The framework was tested on a set of UAV multi-view images over a neighborhood of the city of L’Aquila, Italy, affected in 2009 by an earthquake.

Detecting buildings in the surroundings of an urban vehicle and matching them to building models available on map services is an emerging trend in robotics localization for urban vehicles. In this paper, we present a novel technique, which improves a previous work by detecting building façade, their positions, and finding the correspondences with their 3D models, available in OpenStreetMap. The proposed technique uses segmented point clouds produced using stereo images, processed by a convolutional neural network. The point clouds of the façades are then matched against a reference point cloud, produced extruding the buildings’ outlines, which are available on OpenStreetMap (OSM). In order to produce a lane-level localization of the vehicle, the resulting information is then fed into our probabilistic framework, called Road Layout Estimation (RLE). We prove the effectiveness of this proposal, testing it on sequences from the well-known KITTI dataset and comparing the results concerning a basic RLE version without the proposed pipeline.

Abstract This paper deals with the application of the semi-probabilistic design concept (level I, DIN EN 1990) to structural silicone adhesives in order to calibrate partial material safety factors for a stretch-based limit state equation. Based on the current legal situation for the application of structural sealants in façades, a new Eurocode-compliant design concept is introduced and compared to existing design codes (ETAG 002). This is followed by some background information on semi-probabilistic reliability modeling and the general framework of the Eurocode for the derivation of partial material safety factors at Level I. Within this paper, a specific partial material safety factor is derived for DOWSIL 993 silicone on the basis of experimental data. The data were then further evaluated under a stretch-based limit state function to obtain a partial material safety factor for that specific limit state function. This safety factor is then extended to the application in finite element calculation programs in such a way that it is possible for the first time to perform mesh-independent static calculations of silicone adhesive joints. This procedure thus allows for great optimization of structural sealant design with potentially high economical as well as sustainability benefits. An example for the static verification of a bonded façade construction by means of finite element calculation shows (i) the application of EC 0 to silicone adhesives and (ii) the transfer of the EC 0 method to the finite element method with the result that mesh-independent ultimate loads can be determined.

This paper proposes a methodological approach to energy renovation in valuable buildings, encompassing architectural, historical, and energy analyses. The research tests its application on a case study: a retrofit proposal for Palazzo Affari in Turin, an office building designed by Carlo Mollino for the Chamber of Commerce (1964–1974). The building, still in use, has never been thermally renovated yet. Palazzo Affari gathers structural, technological, and spatial experimentation worth to be preserved. The core of Mollino's design is a versatile plan, clear from any structural encumbrances, which was made possible thanks to an innovative structural technique. Façades are cladded with finely designed concrete prefabricated panels. As a 20th-century masterpiece, it must be recognized as culturally valuable but also shows enormous energy improvement potential, as many buildings of its age. Based on a deep understanding of the building, the paper proposes a combination of traditional and innovative ad hoc solutions for its renovation, mediated by the need for material and iconic preservation. Both the substitution of the façade panels and the insulation from the outside are excluded. The opaque parts of the façade are insulated from the inside using high-performance Vacuum-Insulation-Panels, and cladded by a new counter-facade conceived to be produced in panels through digital fabrication. On the other hand, windows are fully replaced by choosing glass which is both high-performing and respectful of the original chromaticity and transparency. The new window frames with thermal break are specially designed to respect the original external thickness. The design is configured as an add-in intervention, coherent with the pre-existence. Substitutions are carefully weighted and respect the original architectural features. FEM analysis demonstrates the reduction of the thermal flux through the opaque walls by 80% and through the windows by 65%. The solar factor is reduced by 35%, thus improving the summer internal thermal comfort.

In the quest for sufficient and comfortable housing in South Africa, attention to building orientation and thermal transmittance principles has significantly improved thermal performance in local houses. Thermal simulation and monitoring of houses in the Joe Slovo Phase Three development in Cape Town confirms improved performance by solar radiation blockage and shading. This paper simulates the thermal performance of a housing unit in this development. The house was instrumented with thermocouples, and monitored from March to December 2013 by Sustainable Energy Africa in collaboration with the National Department of Human Settlements. Sustainable Energy Africa reported significant improvement when compared to a nearby traditional Reconstruction and Development Programme house that had been monitored during the same period. With the benefit of the monitored thermal data, complete drawings, and specification details of the Joe Slovo Phase Three unit, the current research modelled and calibrated a simulation model in DesignBuilder. DesignBuilder was selected given its accreditation status for Green Star Rating of buildings in South Africa. An additional motivation for investigating this unit was the availability of recorded weather data from the nearby Cape Town International Airport, captured in the DesignBuilder climate data base for 2013, which was assumed relevant in lieu of complete weather station data measured at the location of the housing unit. The study aimed to simulate the monitored temperatures in the house with acceptable agreement, and to investigate further potential improvement in occupant thermal comfort by alternative 3D-printed concrete walling developed by the authors. Systematic finite element analysis (FEA) iteratively solved cavity radiation and convection in wall cavities to calibrate thermal transmittance parameters for DesignBuilder. The FEA results acceptably simulated temperatures monitored in this physical wall experiment. The calibrated DesignBuilder model simulated the indoor temperatures of the monitored house with acceptable agreement, and predicted significant improvement in occupant thermal comfort if the walls were 3D-printed with a particular cross-sectional design.

The prevalence of ventilated façade systems is not only due to their aesthetic properties but also due to the fact they provide mechanical and acoustic protection for the façade and reduce the energy demand of the building. However, it is essential to mention that the point thermal bridges of the fastening system with brackets and anchors are often neglected during simplified energy performance calculations and practical design tasks. The reason practitioners do not consider the brackets in the calculation is the lack of standards for the simplified calculation of point thermal transmittances, or there being no comprehensive, manufacturer-independent thermal bridge catalogue available. This study aims to evaluate the point thermal transmittances created by the brackets and anchors of the ventilated façade claddings by using 3D numerical thermal modelling. A broad point thermal bridge catalogue was created, considering multiple factors of the ventilated facades. The FEM-based results show that thermal breaks/isolators could reduce the point thermal transmittances by only 2 to 28%, depending on the material of the brackets and the isolators. The brackets’ material and geometrical properties/parameters could cause up to 70% of difference between corrected and uncorrected thermal transmittance values, as well as significant differences between the results if the brackets were applied to different kinds of masonry walls or reinforced concrete walls.

Regarding low-frequency sound transmission from building façades into room for outdoor noise, its mechanism is very complicated due to the combination of outer walls and windows, the vibration behavior of an entire building structure, and the acoustic coupling with an interior sound field. In particular, the installation of a double window system involves combined phenomena of its resonance transmission and normal modes of the room, which has not been fully understood. In order to investigate the phenomena, a theoretical examination is first conducted based on a one-dimension vibro-acoustic model assuming piston vibration of double windowpanes and air spring between them. Next, numerical simulations based on the vibro-acoustic FEM are performed for a house model that consists of outer walls and double windowpanes. The results are compared to clarify the effects of the thickness, stiffness and size of glazing and the air layer thickness for the double window, and also sound absorption of the room. Furthermore, the composite soundproofing effect of weight increasing of the outer walls and installation of the double window is examined to consider appropriate measures for low-frequency sound.

It is well known that finite element analysis (FEA) is a powerful tool when it comes to the design and analysis of complex structures for various load combinations, including light steel curve members. This abstract provides an overview of the FEA simulation process for designing such members (cure members), which involves constructing a 3D model, discretising the member into small elements, assigning material properties, defining boundary conditions, conducting the simulation, analysing the results, and making any necessary modifications to the design. FEA simulations can provide valuable insights into the behaviour of light steel curved members under different load combinations. This enables designers to optimise designs for strength, safety, and cost-effectiveness. This article proposes using two commercial 3D software programs, Rhino 7 and Strand7, to complete the FEA simulation of light steel curved members. The 3D model is created in Rhino 7, and the individual elements are discretised into more minor elements using Strand7 for assigning material properties, defining boundary conditions, running simulations, and analysing the results. The paper presents five case studies of steel–glass façades and applies the proposed methodology to each. Examples include Phoenix International Media Center in Beijing, Kazakhstan Pavilion and Science Museum in Astana, Moynihan Train Hall in New York City, Chadstone Shopping Centre in Melbourne, and the central light rail station in The Hague.

Glass façade curtain walls in buildings is the façade system of choice in modern architecture of mid- to high-rise buildings. This study investigates the seismic and thermal insulation performance of curtain wall systems through structural analysis using the finite element method (FEM) and LBNL Window&Therm insulation analysis. The aim was to optimize the capability of the curtain wall module system and the fastener element technology to respond to displacement and vibration caused by dynamic seismic waves. Using the structural analysis of the optimization process, a curtain wall system capable of withstanding earthquake waves of 0.4 Hz, displacement of ±150 mm or more, and capable of responding to three-axis (X, Y, and Z-axis) dynamic earthquakes, was fabricated. Then, a curtain wall system that satisfies not only the evaluation of seismic performance, but also the desired airtightness, watertightness, wind pressure, and insulation, which are essential requirements for field applications, was verified through an experiment. Based on this study, it is expected that a curtain wall system capable of responding to three-axis dynamic seismic waves can be applied to mid- and high-rise buildings to prevent secondary damage in the event of an earthquake.

A typical mast climbing work platform (MCWP) is introduced in this paper as a new type of construction machinery for façade renovation of high-rise buildings. The application of the MCWP is presented based on a real facade renovation project where a combined arrangement of linear and L-shaped MCWP is adopted. The FEM model of an L-shaped MCWP is also established in this paper and the results are obtained. It is indicated from the results that the serviceability of L-shaped meets the requirements of the standard. Based on the duration and cost of a control group, the MCWP method can greatly improve construction efficiency and reduce cost compared with a suspended basket method.

The reconstruction project of an existing masonry building will be presented in this paper. The building was erected in 1911. The building has a ground floor and three floors. Its façade is protected as cultural heritage. Due to the conversion of the building into a hotel, a lot of interventions have to be done on the existing structure, which significantly changes the properties of the structure and increases the weight of the building, and thus seismic forces. Due to structural assessment, the project was preceded by different on site structural tests. A very detailed 3D FEM model with solid elements was created on which the analysis of the structure was carried out. The results of nonlinear analysis for vertical loads, modal (eigenvalue) analysis, response spectrum analysis and push-over analysis (nonlinear construction stage analysis “sequence analysis”) will be shown. Only when carbon fibers reinforcement was included in the FEM model, the vertical loads were applied. It can be activated for earthquake forces. The comparison between the results for unreinforced and reinforced structure proves increasing carrying capacity of the stone masonry walls after reinforcement with carbon fibers was combined with the masonry walls grouting.

Sandwich structures are being used increasingly in civil engineering because of their high strength, stiffness, and stiffness-to-density ratio. The studied sandwich structure was made of glass fibre reinforced polymer (GFRP) skins, and GFRP reinforced core. Two case studies are presented in this paper: a use as lightweight floor in building rehabilitation, and an application as façade panels. In both cases, the GFRP sandwich structure can be associated with a mineral matrix because of conventional construction methods and acoustic floor insulation in the first case, and because of architectural issues in the second. To design the hybrid sandwich panel and ensure monolithic mechanical behaviour, a finite element method (FEM) that predicts the interface failure was introduced. To implement the FE model by mechanical interface properties, pull-off and push-out tests were performed to assess the mode I and mode II stress limits. Four GFRP surface roughnesses and two configurations with chemical additions were tested. The three configurations that performed the best were tested by submitting the hybrid sandwich structure to three-point bending loading. The prediction of the interface failure by the FEM was assessed by comparison to the experimental data. Finally, full-scale panels were experimentally tested and designed for the named two uses cases thanks to the FE model.

In the realm of modern architecture, the demand for materials that combine strength, durability, and aesthetic flexibility is ever-growing. Addressing this need, this paper presents a study on the innovative use of aluminum extrudates in construction. Focusing on the AA6005 alloy, which is known for its excellent balance of strength, corrosion resistance, and weldability, this research delves into the development of an extrusion process that yields thin-walled, lightweight, yet high-strength structural components. Using FEM simulations, a new extrudate of the AA6005A was developed. It is compatible with standard façade systems, with high-strength properties and a weight reduced by 20% compared to that of conventional extrudates made of the AA6063 alloy. Using CAD engineering and FEM simulations of aluminum extrusion process, an innovative die was designed for the extrusion process, ensuring uniform flow of metal from the bearing and minimizing the elastic deflection of the die. This resulted in an increase in the extrusion velocity of thin-walled extrudate from AA6005A by 24% compared to conventional profiles extruded from AA6063. As part of the research, a trial test was carried out in production conditions and the quality of the extrudates was tested by 3D optical scanning, mechanical and structural properties tests, and microstructure observation.

Building Integrated Photovoltaic (BIPV) systems can be defined as PV modules, which can be integrated in building's envelope by replacing conventional building materials such as windows, tiles etc. and have an impact on the functionality of the buildings. Considering the huge share (40%) of buildings in total energy consumption and nearly zero-energy building target of the European Union (EU), BIPV systems present a sustainable solution and have gained increased interest in last years. In this study, the performance of a BIPV system, which was installed on Feb. 8, 2016 on the façade of a campus building at Yasar University, İzmir, Turkey within the framework a EU/FP7 project and has a capacity of 7.44 kWp, is evaluated for a three-year period using first and second laws of thermodynamics. Within this context, real (experimental) monthly and yearly electricity productions are determined and compared with the results obtained from the simulations. Energy and exergy efficiencies and performance ratios of the system are also calculated based on the cell and total areas.

(francuski) Seules les descriptions de l'aspect ext?rieur de l'?glise de l'Ascension du Christ a Decani recourent a des termes aussi ?logieux que ceux employ?s roi parler de l'?glise du Saint-Sauveur a Zica. Et, de fait, La beaut? de cette derni?re a notamment ?t? tout particuli?rement soulign?e par les anciens ?crivains, Domentijan et Teodosije. Tout le sens de leurs paroles n'a toutefois ?t? perf qu'a la suite de r?cents travaux de restauration entrepris sur l'?glise s'?tant soldes par le d?gagement de restes de couches de peinture recouvrant ses murs ext?rieurs et ayant, de ce fait, permis d'entrevoir l'aspect originel de la d?coration poly chromatique ext?rieur de l'?glise. Les premi?res connaissances concernant la d?coration des fa?ades de l'?glise de Zica remontent aux ann?es vingt du XXe si?cle. On a alors d?gage deux couches dont la plus r?cente a ?t? dat?e de la quatri?me d?cennie du XIV femme si?cle (fig. 3, 4) alors qu'a plusieurs endroits a ?t? constat?e au-dessous de celle-ci, la couche de cr?pis originelle. Celle-ci recouvrait toutes les surfaces des murs a 1'exception des corniches, des frises des arcades et, vraisemblablement, des cadres des fen?tres (fig. 5, 6). La datation exacte de cette couche inferieure de cr?pis a ?t? possible gr?ce aux r?sultats de sondages effectues a la jonction des portiques pr?c?dant les par ?glises et, respectivement, des murs sud et nord de 1'exonarthex, ?riges au plus tard en 1230. Sur la partie frontale du mur du portique pr?c?dent la par ?glise sud d?di?e au saint premier martyr Etienne subsiste les restes d'une croix ornee de pierres pr?cieuses: creux gem mata, d'une grande taille au-dessus de laquelle apparait la partie inferieure d'une figure de saint (fig. 1, 7, 8, 10) alors que sur la fa?ade du portique nord on rel?ve les traces d'une composition histori?e non identifiable (fig. 12). II est donne question d'une trouvaille ferm?e dont la datation est parfaitement limit?e et dont G ex?cution peut ?tre tr?s pr?cis?ment plac?e a l'?poque ayant pr?c?d? le grand Sabor (concile) de 1221. En ce sens, il s'agit la de la plus ancienne donn?e sur la d?coration polychromique des fa9ades des ?glises de type rascien, venant, parall?lement, t?moigner des conceptions esth?tiques de l'?poque et nous renseigner sur 1'iconographie des fa?ades des ?difices eccl?siastiques.

AbstractThe research project presents the development of a fully digital design to manufacture process chain for high‐performance curved steel elements produced by laser cutting thin steel sheets and assembled through elastic deformation. Although there have been developments in industrial robotic setups to automate steel beam bending, these processes rely on an iterative approach and are time‐consuming and costly when there is a need for high accuracy.The paper shows how the production of tailor‐made geometric parts with interlocking connections enables the design of free‐form structure as well as the complete integration of secondary functions such as façade and mounting positions. The research is based on an integrated co‐development of the construction system, structural FEA analysis, as well as manufacturing and assembly methods. A computational tool was developed to combine geometric studies and structural analysis and to automate fabrication data. This project is situated in an industrial context to test the potential for upscaling the system and detailing techniques for the assembly of curved geometries. The potential of the system is demonstrated through the design and fabrication of a 1:1 scale canopy.

Some researcher missed the role of hooks in their bamboo reinforcement. Consequently, the bamboo reinforcement and concrete used to have slip and failure to composited, this make the concrete and bamboo working independently to sustain the given loading and the bond failure become the main issue than the beam failure. This research studied about the role of the pivot hooks that capable to enhance the loading capacity higher than the beams without the pivot hooks. Experimental test performed in order to identify the effect of the pivot hooks presence which added to the flexural reinforcement which made by bamboo materials to avoid the bond slip failure that mostly occur in the bamboo reinforced concrete beams. The experimental test which verified by the numerical analysis by FEA NX commercial software proof that the pivot hooks are able to increase the loading capacity of a concrete beam 33% - 40% higher than the bamboo reinforcement without the pivot hooks. Architectural façade and budget efficiency caused the bamboo become unavoidable material in construction, by adding the structure modification such as the pivot hooks for the bamboo reinforcement, the failure can be reduced, then the entanglement of bamboo in construction become more functional.

ABSTRACT Evaluating the structural integrity of curtain walls during the life cycle of a building project can assist architects in developing better designs, help contractors establish better installation methods, and allow facility managers make informed maintenance decisions. This paper presents an effort to develop a process which combines three types of technologies: 3D laser scanning, Building Information Modeling (BIM), and Finite Element Analysis (FEA), to evaluate the structural integrity of a curtain wall. In a case study, a 3D laser scanner was used to scan the curtain wall, the resulting set of point clouds was used to create an actual as-built BIM model. This “as-is” BIM model is different than a construction as-built BIM model in that the former model captures existing deformations developed during construction, installation, and maintenance phases. Then further analysis was completed using simulation with FEA using the BIM model to potentially predict any future structural issues. Wind loads on the building façade and their effect on unintentional stresses built into the glass panel were studied. The final results inform of deformities in the curtain wall and show the amount of wind load the structure can support before there is a risk of structural damage. The contribution of this study is that the harmonious three-step technique quickens the entire process of identifying the risks to a building element. An additional use for these common software packages would be beneficial to all the stakeholders involved in the life cycle of the building, especially those concerned with the facilities management and the building life cycle.

Tanulmányomban a templomhomlokzat és az oltárépítmény felépítésének, tagoló rendszerének párhuzamaira kívántam felhívni a figyelmet. Mind a homlokzatoknak, mind az oltárarchitektúráknak a tervezői építészek voltak, így természetes, hogy hasonló motívumokat használtak fel mind a két esetben. A tridenti zsinat utáni katolikus megújulás fontos szereplője, Borromei Szent Károly, új tabernákulumformát és tértípust hozott létre a lombard építész, Pellegrino Tibaldi közreműködésével. Pellegrinónak kulcsszerepe volt a jezsuita templomtípus megteremtésében, tervei nyomán nem csupán Milánóban, hanem Torinóban is épült templom; hatása kimutatható a bécsi domonkos templom homlokzatán is, amelynek építésze, a bissonei Giovanni Giacomo Tencalla családjának több tagja révén közvetíthette Magyarországra az itáliai hatást. Az építészek, mint például a bécsi Kirche am Hof tervezője, a luganói Filiberto Lucchese, maguk is terveztek oltárokat, vagy közreműködtek a stukkátorokkal, akik gyakran ugyanabból a régióból érkeztek, mint a tervező építész. Így fordulhatott elő, hogy a nyugat-dunántúli stukkóoltárokat általában észak-itáliai mesterek készítették a templomhomlokzatok nyomán.Summary. This study proposes to re-examine the dynamic interaction between the frontispiece of the church and the high altar. While the façade often functions as an open-air altarpiece, the altar itself is a “gate of Paradise.” Both the frontispieces and the altar structures were designed by architects, consequently, they use similar motives. Carlo Borromeo, as a key-figure of post-tridentine church reformed the sacred space and the tabernacle of the Cathedral in Milan following the designs of Pellegrino Tibaldi. Pellegrino played an eminent role in creating a new Jesuit church-type in San Fedele, Milan, which served as a model for the Corpus Christi basilica in Torino as well as for the Santa Maria Dominican Church in Vienna. The latter one was planned by Giovanni Giacomo Tencalla from Bissone (Lugano), and from the same family stemmed well-known stuccators and painters, who also worked for Hungarian commissioners. The architect of the Jesuit church Kirche am Hof in Vienna, Filiberto Lucchese, also worked for the Batthyány family, and designed altarpieces. In this way, we are able to establish a strong interaction between the altar-structure and façade, bringing considerable novelty in analysing architectural forms and design.

Abstract This paper presents a new approach to the design and construction of glazed building envelopes using salvaged insulated glazing units from demolition sites or surplus supply. Typically, Insulated Glazing Units (IGUs) are sent to landfill. Contemporary Architectural glazing is floated using virgin sand melted at 1700°C, a high energy extractive process. Obsolete architectural glass sent to recycling plants is not fed back into new float glass, rather it is downcycled to products such as glass bottles. This paper introduces a pathway for reusing obsolete and irregular Insulated Glazing Units into new curtainwalls; a pathway that currently does not exist. We demonstrate that the carbon footprint of glazed curtainwall could be halved by utilizing reclaimed IGUs. The system is a high-performance enclosure with weather tight compression gaskets and overlapping IGUs for thermal insulation and operational energy advantages over typical curtainwall systems. The system involves a computational configuration process for determining the best fit assembly of salvaged glass from a digitized inventory. The shingled glass façade system could be used in various applications, ranging from corporate offices to storefronts. This paper presents a one-to-one proof of concept, made from reclaimed IGUs of irregular size, collected in Lewes (UK).

The paper presents an innovative approach in the modelling of multi-storey timber-framed buildings, where double-skin façade elements (DSF) are additionally considered as load-bearing wall elements against a horizontal load impact. The mathematical model with a fictive diagonal element developed for timber-framed wall elements with classical oriented strand boards (OSB) or fibre–plaster sheathing boards (FPB) is upgraded for DSF elements. The diameter of the fictive diagonal is determined with either experimental results or numerically obtained results using the time-consuming FEM model with elastic spring elements, which simulates the bonding line between the timber frame and both glazing panes. In the second part of the study, the numerical analysis of a specially selected three-storey timber-framed building was performed using the developed mathematical model with fictive diagonal elements. Two alternative calculations were performed with the DSF elements as non-resisting and racking-resisting wall elements. It was demonstrated on the selected case that the racking resistance (R) of a building can essentially increase up to 35% if DSF elements are considered as resisting wall elements. As a secondary goal of the study, it is also important to point out that by using DSF elements as racking-resisting elements, the distortion in the first floor essentially decreased. It is demonstrated on the selected numerical example that this torsional influence decreased notably (by almost 18%) when the load-bearing DSF elements were used for seismic excitation in the X direction. Therefore, such an approach can open new perspectives in designing multi-storey timber-framed buildings with a more attractive and dynamic floor plan and structure.

Prefabricated forms of construction have led to the rapid onsite assembly of buildings however there are still on-site tasks and processes which can be reevaluated and redone specifically in keeping with the principles of prefabrication instead being adapted to fit its purpose. One such process is that of waterproofing between prefabricated panels and modules which come from the factory fully complete façade and all. Conventional means of waterproofing can be used however it results in more work done on site, potential delays and generally requires access from the external face of the building. This paper presents the Modelling, Implementation and Evaluation of purpose developed weatherproof seals specific for Prefabricated Construction. An overview is provided of the entire development process and specific focus is given to the modeling using finite element analysis (FEA) computer simulations, manufacturing and testing which then resulted in the implementation in a prefabricated panelised building which is used as a case study and the means of further evaluation. These strategies have enabled an efficient and robust prefabricated waterproofing solution specific for this form of construction to be understood and implemented. The resulting case study has successfully verified the time and cost savings when compared to conventional techniques whilst still providing a durable and effective weatherproof seal for prefabricated panelised and modular systems.

Ce travail vise à déterminer l’évolution des conditions d’exploitation du sel autour du site du Pontet au cours du Néolithique récent et de l’âge du Fer par la confrontation des données archéologiques et environnementales. Le site principal du Pontet est un site fossoyé de plateau qui a été occupé principalement durant le Néolithique récent (3600-2900 cal. BCE). Il domine un vallon à fond plat proche de l’estuaire de la Charente dont la paléogéographie est reconstituée grâce aux données géophysiques et à des carottages. Ces informations permettent de reconstituer la topographie du fond du vallon qui correspond à un talweg à pente régulière (~ 1%) façonné dans les calcaires lors du bas niveau marin durant le Stade Isotopique Marin 2 (SIM2). Cette topographie est fossilisée par les formations littorales transgressives et régressives mises en place lors de la remontée puis de la stabilisation du niveau marin holocène. Les formations marines les plus anciennes se mettent en place dans la partie aval de la vallée à partir de 5800 cal. BCE, alors que les versants au pied du site enregistrent un épisode de pédogenèse hydromorphe et sont donc hors d’eau. Lors de la première phase d’occupation du site au Néolithique récent I (3600-3300 cal. BCE) les Pleines Mer de Vives Eaux (PMVE) atteignent le bas des versants du site du Pontet ce qui est compatible avec une activité d’exploitation de sel ignigène au plus près de l’enceinte. Les débuts de la progradation des marais (mise en place d’un schorre) et l’éloignement de la limite des eaux atteintes lors de PMVE à partir de 3000 cal. BCE suggèrent qu’au cours du Néolithique récent II, les conditions d’exploitation du sel pourraient avoir été significativement modifiées et que des avant-sites isolés du site principal pourraient être devenus la règle comme cela est observé sur le site proche de La Garenne. Les colluvions de pied de versant mises en place entre la fin du Néolithique récent et le Bronze final servent de support à une réoccupation saunière datée de l’Âge du Fer, entre le VIIIe siècle et le IIIe siècle cal. BCE. La position de cette réoccupation en pied de versant est discutée quant à sa signification et est mise en relation avec une phase d’érosion et de recul des marais liée à la dégradation climatique et à l’augmentation des tempêtes qui caractérisent les débuts du 1er millénaire cal. BCE à l’échelle de la façade Atlantique. La position des sites sauniers de l’âge du Fer ne constitue donc pas, au moins à l’échelle locale, un indicateur du maximum transgressif qui est antérieur d’un millénaire.

With the advance of the Ottoman Empire the Archiepiscopate of Esztergom was forced to leave its seat and move to Nagyszombat. The buildings of mediaeval origin on Castle Hill, first housing royalties and later the archbishop, were appropriated by the military forces and suffered considerable damage from sieges and the Ottoman domination. The rule of the Turks ceased in Esztergom in 1683, but the archbishopric did not return before 1820. Nonetheless, the archbishops of the 18th century were also preoccupied with the fate and future of the buildings on Castle Hill.Archbishop Ferenc Barkóczy (1761–1765, fig. 4) commissioned the Vienna-based architect of French origin, Isidore Ganneval (1730–1786) to plan a centre of ecclesiastical management on Castle Hill. Unfortunately, it is hard to glean from the fragmentary archival sources what exactly Ganneval was asked to design. His extant survey drawings are only about the renaissance Bakócz chapel which survived the vicissitudes of the centuries relatively intact. Ganneval’s fairly modest fee and his stay of a few months only permit the assumption that he was contracted only to draw up a sketchy proposal. The wooden model (fig. 5) only known from a photograph and possibly perished by now, which can hardly be fitted among the subsequent plan variants, might as well reflect the ideas inspired by his planning work in Esztergom. The conception documented by the wooden mock-up does not take into account the existing, mostly ramshackle buildings and fortifications. The “Navis Ecclesiae” idea represented by the model shows the cathedral flanked by wings of the archiepiscopal palace, the buildings of the theological college are situated lower, and the main road to Visegrád is lined by the canons’ houses. The sanctuary of the cathedral faces west breaking with the tradition of the eastern apse. The groundplan is a fusion of centralized and longitudinal plans, its basic element is the Bakócz Chapel (fig. 6) the mass of which is reiterated and enlarged in it.This proposal ignored the possibility of preserving the mostly mediaeval buildings and fortifications on Castle Hill. In December 1761, however, Archbishop Barkóczy was compelled to sign the obligation by the War Council to undertake the maintenance of the Castle Hill fortifications and in case of enemy attacks to accommodate imperial troops there. It was only through the intervention of the Queen, Maria Theresa, that Barkóczy could be exempted from this obligation in 1763.The next plan of a church administration centre was elaborated by Franz Anton Hillebrandt (1719–1797) whose first plan series was made during the validity of the military obligation from December 1761 to March 1763. It is quite possible that the style of the architect of the Hungarian royal chamber was closer to the taste of the baroque art patron Barkóczy than that of Canneval twenty years his junior, representing the progressivity of revolutionary architecture. The latter was also commissioned by Anton Christoph Migazzi to design the cathedral of Vác, whose style did not attract followers in Hungary.Apart from the principal plan known in the copy by Anton Hartmann (fig. 7) only four pieces of the first plan series survive, including the first floor plan of the seminary building (fig. 8). This baroque conception keeps the fortified walls and bastions around Castle Hill but demolishes the military buildings on the plateau (barracks, hospital, stalls, etc.). It is like an architectural counter-proposal to Ganneval’s wooden model, taking into greater consideration the relief features than the perfunctory mock-up. Hillebrandt delivered these plans to Archbishop Barkóczy on 10 March 1763 and forwarded the queen’s message at the same time: the financial obligation to maintain the military defences of Castle Hill had been abrogated. It immediately invalidated the plans just presented, and obstacles from the path of planning were removed. That was probably the stimulus behind the free-handed amateur linear drawing of a groundplan made perhaps by the archbishop or his representative for the architect in 1763 (fig. 9) in which the functions of the buildings are defined. In a sense it returns to Ganneval’s model which handled Castle Hill without any restrictions.Only few – a mere six sheets – of Hillebrandt’s plans are known from after the sketch. (A part of the plans were probably taken by architect István Möller to Budapest in the first decades of the 20th century and possibly perished during the siege of the capital in 1945 or during the reconstruction.) Anyway, it must have been on the basis of this second series of plans that the demolition of mediaeval remains, soil levelling and the laying of foundations began in 1763. In 1764, the collapse of an Ottoman minaret built using a mediaeval stair-tower caused the crushing of Porta Speciosa, the main portal of the mediaeval St Adalbert cathedral. Mainly preparatory construction went on until the death of Archbishop Barkóczy in 1765. That interrupted the building of a baroque church administration centre for good.Building commissioner János Máthes (1785–1848) summed up in his work published in 1827 how far the construction had arrived and what was built later. Maria Theresa requested Hillebrandt to plan a church dedicated to King Saint Stephen for the garrison reinstated on Castle Hill, which was constructed in 1767–1770. It was – on a smaller scale – on the site of the planned baroque cathedral, certainly not using its foundation walls. About the situation a layout drawing (fig. 12), groundplan and design plan (fig. 13) are included in Máthes’s book. In addition, a now latent or extinct, mock-up (fig. 14) made by Máthes also reflects the situation on Castle Hill in the last quarter of the 18th century. In the lower part of the model made in the early 1820s groundplans of the buildings on Castle Hill could be seen (fig. 16). One of the specialties of the church was the copy of the Hungarian royal crown placed on the spire as the crowning ornament. On the façade on top of the stairs adjacent to the broad ramp leading to the basilica of today the statues of Saints Stephen and Ladislaus carved by the Pest sculptor József Hebenstreit were erected. Surviving items include side altar pictures painted by Anton Karl Rosier of Pozsony which are today in the Esztergom church of the Sisters of Mercy of Szatmár. The later rebuilt garrison church was pulled down in 1821 to make room for today’s cathedral. One of the first moves of the new construction was the transfer of the Bakócz Chapel to its present place. The cathedral, the construction of which started on plans by Pál Kühnel (1765–1824) and János Packh (1796–1839) fitted into a conception of a church government centre the model for which might have been provided by Ganneval’s plan of nearly sixty years before.

Curved and free-form glass façades represent a clear trend in architectural design. Hot bending is the most common technique used to produce curved Insulating Glass Units (IGU). Although its effectiveness has been proved in many projects, it is well known that it can also be very expensive due to the big number of moulds usually required to build up a free-form façade. As alternative to the ‘hot-bending’ technique, the increasingly used ‘cold-bending’ method is investigated in this paper being less expensive as well as more sustainable. Such method consists in imposing an out-of-plane displacement to flat insulating glass units and generally requires forces of limited magnitude applied on site during installation. Cold-bending introduces permanent loads into the glass panes, the glass interlayers, the secondary sealing as well as the primary sealing, the latter one responsible for the gas retention and the resistance to moisture penetration in the IGU cavity. The paper presents the results of FEM analysis as well as tests performed on double glazed units including Sikasil® IG-25 secondary sealing joints and SikaGlaze® IG-5 PIB as primary seal and investigates their behavior due to cold-bending and exposure to climate conditions in accordance with EN1279-2. The results show that appropriate FE analysis can well predict the behaviour of the cold-bent system and that the amount of out-of-plane displacement introduced in the IGUs does not affect their integrity and durability. As example, the cold-bent limit identified is applied for shaping a cold-bent IGUs façade in a high-rise building.

This paper presents a study of the thermo-hygrometric behaviour of a Double Skin Façade (DSF) unit. The study aims (i) at comparing currently used calculation procedures according to European and American standards (UNI EN ISO 10077, UNI EN ISO 12631:2018, ISO 15099:2003, ANSI/NFRC 100 for the thermal performance and ISO 13788:2012 (2012) for the condensation risk), and (ii) at assessing the 2D hygrothermal performance of a double skin module through a Finite Element Method (FEM)-based model. According to the current standards, a detailed characterization of thermal and fluid dynamic phenomena in closed and ventilated cavities is neglected and a simplified approach is proposed, which tends to overestimate the overall U-value of the curtain wall (UCW) due to an incremental thermal resistance that depends on the thickness of the air gap layer and the level of ventilation. The potential risk of this simplification is that the DSF estimated design performance, whilst complying with regulatory requirements, present inconsistencies respect to the real behaviour, impacting energy, comfort, material degradation, etc. Accurate assessments could be done already during design through detailed FEM multi-physic analyses. Nevertheless, those require a specific knowledge, are cost and time-consuming. As a first step, this study focuses on comparing the normed calculation approach for the design, against a detailed FEM-based multi-physics methodology. Specifically, this couples CFD, hygrothermal and Ray Tracing physics in a tool for the calculation of thermal transmittance, g-value and relative humidity of a DSF with a customizable geometry. As a second step, given a real DSF unit that showed unforeseen phenomena of surface condensation inside the cavity during several hours in spring and autumn, the multi-physic tool has been used to evaluate the condensation risk with the current and modified DSF design, under static and time-dependent boundary conditions.

Introduction Our era of urgent climate action is underpinned by a perplexing paradox: a continued reliance on fossil fuels is presented as a solution to the very crisis it perpetuates. We live in a world where this logical inconsistency is normalised and accepted; an artificial fantasy realm where we can have our fossil fuel cake and eat it as well. In this realm, society, business, and government acknowledge the reality of climate change and its cause, yet do little to alleviate it. Instead, they express bi-partisan support for zero emissions targets while expanding fossil fuel projects, and promote corporate decarbonisation pledges while advocating against legislation reducing greenhouse gas emissions. They celebrate manipulated emissions reduction data while pushing aside the reality of rapidly breaking heat records (UN News) and decades of locked-in continuous emissions increases (Bhatia) through unabated approvals of coal and gas mines (Roe and Lowrey). Our ability to construct and sustain artificial worlds is nothing new, having long featured in philosophical discourse. From Plato's Allegory of the Cave—where prisoners mistake shadows for reality—to modern conspiracy theories, people have long explored and exploited the notion that our understanding of the world has flexible epistemological foundations which can be easily manipulated. Modern scholars have expanded this analysis to a societal scale. For example, Jean Baudrillard explored how media and symbols can create a 'hyperreality' that obscures or replaces objective truth (Wolny), while Noam Chomsky and Edward Herman analysed the mechanisms of 'manufacturing consent', whereby public opinion is carefully curated to align with specific interests (Chomsky and Herman). Through our growing immersion in online communities, networks of power work to create epistemic bubbles and echo chambers. Information is curated to reinforce existing beliefs and exclude contradictory evidence, leveraging our tendency to reject information that does not align with our beliefs. These blurred lines of the fossil-fuelled artificial reality can be difficult to discern given the entrenched role these resources play in our society. Australia is one of the world’s largest fossil fuel exporters, with one of the highest carbon emissions per capita (Grant and Hare). Fossil fuels hold a central place in the Australian economy, community, and psyche (Botrel et al.). The pervasive grip of the fossil fuel industry compels our continued consumption regardless of climate concerns while offering few pathways for escape. This creates a profound cognitive dissonance: we must simultaneously acknowledge climate change while participating in the very systems that accelerate it. Not only that: in managing this psychological tension, we acquiesce to the industry’s preferred narrative of an ongoing fossil-fuelled future (Wright et al.). In this mythical future, fossil fuel expansion will bring unbridled collective goods so long as we sweep away any inconvenient concerns about climate change from our thoughts. In doing so, the direct link between fossil fuel production and carbon emissions is severed: rendered trivial, eclipsed by the carefully constructed myth of fossil fuel dependence. And thus a new world comes into existence, one where the use of fossil fuels becomes both necessary and inevitable. In this article, I explore the many channels by which the fossil fuel industry has constructed this artificial reality. I draw on parallels between the tactics employed by the fossil fuel industry and those previously used by other health- and planet-harming industries, particularly the tobacco industry (Lacy-Nichols et al.). Using data compiled from a comprehensive longitudinal database of state and federal lobbying registers, combined with online and archival sources, the following sections explore how the industry and its enablers wield these strategies to perpetuate this artificial reality. The Construction of the Artificial Fossil-Fuelled World Strategy 1: Constructing and Controlling the Narrative Sustaining this artificial reality requires narratives that mask fossil fuels' climate destruction. A veneer of plausibility justifies acceptance of this reality, making it crucial for the industry to control the narrative of its societal role. Accordingly, industry-favoured solutions—such as carbon capture and storage—are framed as 'common sense' (Parkin). Mirroring Gramsci’s concept of "cultural hegemony", this pro-fossil fuel ideology is perpetuated through the extensive material, organisational, and communicative power of the industry, allowing it to be accepted as natural and inevitable (Blondeel). These resources fuel the small army of PR firms, lobbyists, think tanks, and 'junk scientists', who all play various roles in customising narratives for different audiences in a way that is most likely to maintain this artificial reality, as described below (Hoggan and Littlemore). Promoting gas as a transition fuel. The idea of a ‘transition’ fuel has been highly effective in neutralising threats to fossil fuel extraction as well as renewable energy challenges (Heras 49). Through dedicated websites and industry reports like "Gas Vision 2050" the industry reframes gas as a climate solution while avoiding direct discussion of its climate impacts. This extends to misleading claims; the Australian Petroleum Production and Exploration Association (APPEA) framed gas as 50% cleaner than an unspecified alternative fuel, in claims subsequently found to have breached environmental advertising codes (Ad Standards Community Panel). Sowing doubt from denial to delay. Despite knowing about climate change since the 1960s, companies like Exxon Mobile promoted scepticism for decades (Bennett). Today, this narrative has now shifted from denial to delay (Hoggan and Littlemore). The industry acknowledges climate change while claiming its fossil fuel expansion serves the public good. Net zero targets are one particularly prominent narrative of delay: companies promote targets to postpone meaningful action while maintaining an appearance of progress (e.g., APPEA's rebranding to Australian Energy Producers). Another example is natural gas company Tamboran Resources, which mirrors this narrative in front-page claims about their net zero vision, despite its role in the controversial Beetaloo fracking project set to emit more greenhouse gases than all Pacific Island nations combined (Ogge, Emissions). Emphasising economic benefits. The fossil fuel industry maintains legitimacy by emphasising economic benefits and jobs (Bryson). Both major political parties adhere to this framing, enabling fossil fuel expansion to continue unabated while the role of other industries in providing jobs—such as renewable energy and tourism in the Great Barrier Reef—gains little space in the narrative (Bryson). Companies like Origin Energy promote direct benefits to landowners as “a valuable addition to farm income” (Origin Energy), aligning themselves with economic growth, stability, and the broader national interest while downplaying their role in climate-related disasters (Wright et al.). Capturing the media. Media outlets play a crucial role in reinforcing fossil fuel narratives. Some, like the West Australian, openly support the industry and attack climate initiatives (Dumas). More broadly, media outlets perpetuate the connection between fossil fuels and economic wellbeing, while overstating the industry's employment significance relative to environmental concerns (Nyberg and Wright). Strategy 2: Camouflaging and Greenwashing The second strategy used to maintain this artificial reality is camouflaging and greenwashing. These mechanisms actively work to disguise the industry's harmful impacts and present a deceptively eco-friendly image. They construct a picture of corporate virtue, allow destructive companies to deflect criticism, position themselves as solution providers, and act as mouthpieces for industry (Lacy-Nichols et al.). Fossil fuel companies seek to promote their public role through partnerships in the public sector, while sponsorship and advertising help deflect attention from emissions and minimise criticism (Nyberg and Wright; Plec and Pettenger). Three examples of camouflaging and greenwashing are presented below. Promoting front groups. The Climate Leaders Coalition has 47 members each paying around $3000 a year to join and claim their title as a climate leader (Fernyhough; Climate Leaders Coalition, "About"). Members of the group include major gas producers Santos and Woodside, who ostensibly agree with the statement "We take climate change seriously in our business" (Climate Leaders Coalition, "About"). This group is used as a way to overlay a fake climate lens to climate emissions, with Santos even earning its own climate case study in the 2020 Roadmap to Zero report (Climate Leaders Coalition, Roadmap). Fostering public-private partnerships. The Queensland Resources Council highlighted partnerships between Arrow Energy, Moranbah State High School, and Simply Sunshine Day Care (Queensland Resources Council), while Santos provided funding to Queensland police, regional councils, health committees, and government departments (Santos). Similarly, the Australian Earth Science Education Group is supported by Woodside, Santos, and Chevron, and promotes gas-positive education to children in Years 4-10 (AusEarthEd). Sponsorship and advertising. The Australian Institute of Marine Science, despite its goal of supporting sustainable use and protection of oceans, is sponsored by BHP, Santos, Shell, and Woodside (Australian Institute of Marine Science, "World’s"; Australian Institute of Marine Science, "Industry"). Fossil fuel companies advertise and sponsor sporting venues like the Canberra Tennis Arena (Rimmer), while hundreds of health, community, and education organisations receive sponsorship from energy companies. Major initiatives like Bright-r invest $750 million in community projects (Bright-r), while partnerships with state governments, like Western Australia’s Resources Community Investment Initiative, further legitimise the industry. Collectively they create a discourse of community wellbeing, supported by actors across industry, politics, and the media (Wright et al.). Strategy 3: Influencing Public Policy and Research Narrative control alone does not maintain fossil fuel dominance. Instead, "petro-hegemony" describes how companies gain deeper political and economic control through lobbying, undermining science, and funding climate denial (LeQuesne 19; Parkin). Fossil fuel interests are crafted to appear synonymous with democratic governance (LeQuesne), enabling them to counter climate policies that threaten their business model (Böhler et al.). In this "carbon democracy" (LeQuesne), historical links between coal and politics give lobbyists significant policy influence, turning modest economic gains into remarkable political power (Baer 199). As demonstrated below, the industry's extensive financial resources allow for persistent lobbying that climate advocates cannot match (Botrel et al.) often resulting in business-friendly policy outcomes (Meng and Rode). Lobbying. Major gas companies have been shown to engage in "predatory lobbying" to secure investments and influence policy (ACCR). This lobbying also involves developing alternatives to public policy, usually promoting options such as fast-tracking projects, tax breaks, self-regulation, or voluntary commitments. Industry bodies promote self-regulation and reduced climate reporting (EY; Minerals Council of Australia). The revolving door between politics and industry has been demonstrated to have influenced major projects (Lucas) and sought preferential treatment for certain companies such as Beach Energy, Sibelco, and Linc Energy (Aulby and Ogge). These lobbying efforts often emphasise decarbonisation risks to communities and employment, while highlighting the industry's economic contributions (Wright et al.; Minerals Council of Australia). Undermining legitimate science. The distortion of evidence and exaggeration of uncertainty is a well-established tactic to neutralise threats to business models (Lacy-Nichols et al.). The Gas Industry Social and Environmental Research Alliance (GISERA) exemplifies this approach: funded 75% by gas companies and overseen by industry executives (Ogge, GISERA; Australia Institute, “CSIRO”; Bambrick et al.), GISERA has been accused of publishing biased reports, such as claiming fracking was environmentally safe based on a limited sample of just six out of Queensland's 19,000 coal seam gas wells, and conducting surveys that inflate apparent support for coal seam gas projects (Australia Institute, “CSIRO”; Lock the Gate). Meanwhile, a 2010 Australian Research Council project on CSG health risks was reportedly not undertaken due to the industry partner, Santos, withdrawing funding (McCarron). Strategy 4: Leveraging State Power The alliance between state power and fossil fuel interests combines financial support with dissent suppression, protecting industry interests while maintaining the narrative that fossil fuels are essential for national prosperity. State support for expansion alongside suppression of protection as described below, makes it increasingly difficult for sustainable energy alternatives to gain public traction. Providing government support. State power actively supports fossil fuel expansion (e.g., see Nyberg and Wright), such as Queensland's backing of the Carmichael coal mine despite market doubts (Bryson). State support can be linked to political donations, as suggested by donations to the Western Australia Labor Party by Mineral Resources and Woodside during consideration of increasing gas export allowances (Readfearn). Financial support to the sector is also provided through the estimated A$14.5b annual cost to the state for various fossil fuel subsidies (Australia Institute, "Fossil"). Criminalising protest. Governments and corporations leverage state power to suppress, protest, and convert political communication practices into offences (Gulliver et al., "Criminalisation"). These include new anti-protest laws, expanded applications of existing discretionary powers, and portraying protesters as extremists (Brock et al.; Irwin et al.). Companies also use private security, strategic lawsuits, and surveillance, as well as attempting to remove environmental organisations' charitable status (Al-Azzawi et al.; Hoggan and Littlemore; Kirkwood). Our Shared Duplicity: Moral Disengagement and Identity Capture While personal choices offer accessible forms of dissent, a focus on individual responsibility to reduce individual emissions serves industry interests by deflecting attention from their role in perpetuating fossil fuel dependence. Two key psychological responses emerge to maintain fossil fuel control: moral disengagement and identity capture, both of which may help individuals cope with but ultimately reinforce the status quo. Moral disengagement. The ubiquitous influence wielded by the fossil fuel industry only succeeds because of societal acceptance of fossil fuel norms (Blondeel). These norms are often at their most visible amongst those who work in environmentally destructive industries where employees justify carbon impacts through various strategies: by emphasising the positive outcomes as opposed to the negative influence of their efforts, through promoting gradual change or relying on future solutions, and by dismissing carbon data (Torres-Delgado et al. 1). Identity capture. Simultaneously, climate change beliefs have become deeply tied to personal identity, with stronger identity attachments increasing resistance to change (Marquart-Pyatt et al.). Climate change beliefs are also substantially linked to, and constrained by, political affiliation (Hornsey et al.; Fielding et al.). This identity capture extends to professional spheres, as evidenced by Arctic tourism operators who morally disengage from their environmental impacts while portraying activities as sustainable (Vespestad et al.). Dismantling the Artificial World The industry gains popular consent by normalising the entrenched role of fossil fuels in our lives and rigorously challenging threats that question the assumptions, beliefs, and patterns that maintain these prevailing norms (Blondeel). However, history demonstrates that social movements offer a powerful mechanism for effectively challenging the status quo. Environmental movements constitute a counter-hegemonic force, mobilising resources, establishing alternative institutions, and developing organisational capacity to challenge the dominant power structure (Heras). In Australia, evidence suggests these efforts can be effective (Gulliver et al., "Understanding"; Gulliver et al., "Civil"). Advocacy groups across the country challenge the processes that enable fossil fuel companies and their enablers to perpetuate this artificial world by demanding greater action on climate change and transparency on climate-harming activities. Legal challenges focussing on climate accountability and greenwashing are proving to be effective avenues to shatter the industry's narrative veneer. Yet, despite increasing awareness of these strategies used to maintain this artificial world, emissions continue to rise. Dismantling this artificial world, therefore, requires more: a multifaceted approach that dismantles the industry's narrative control, economic influence, and societal embeddedness. By shifting focus from individual actions to the systemic forces that lock in fossil fuel use, we can more effectively confront the power structures that underpin the fossil fuel industry’s power. 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AbstractThis paper presents the first part of a study on the effect of wind loads on Vacuum Insulated Glass (VIG) units. The study provides background information on VIG and relevant Standards, explains the numerical modelling process, and discusses the implications of the results in relation to European and North American codes and Standards. The focus of the study is on vertical windows and façade installations in low-rise buildings (< 25 m) commonly found in residential buildings. The mechanical behaviour of VIG was analysed using the Finite Element Method (FEM) with respect to various design parameters such as glass pane size, glass thickness, surface pressure magnitude, and edge boundary conditions. The study analysed global deformation as well as the stresses on the outer glass surfaces. The VIG features such as pillar geometry and contact dynamics, and material non-linear effects, were explicitly modelled. In addition, monolithic glass plates were also modelled, and the FEM results of the monolithic cases were in reasonable agreement with an analytical solution obtained from linear thin plate theory. These results highlight the limit of linear behaviour in monolithic plate bending. The centre-of-pane deflection of the VIG was in good agreement with the FEM and analytical solutions of the equivalent thickness monolithic pane, for sample sizes below 800 × 800 mm. However, for larger glass sizes, a deviation was found, and the VIG exhibited a higher plate stiffness than the equivalent thickness monolithic pane. The simulations also showed that the stresses in the glass panes are highly dependent on the edge of glass boundary condition. Finally, the results demonstrated that with appropriate design choices, the VIG can satisfy the Standards requirements for wind load and glass design in both Europe and North America.

AbstractUrban heat islands can jeopardize urban inhabitants, but the installation of green roofs (GRs) and walls (GWs) can contribute to mitigating urban overheating. The present study provides novel indices to easily predict the spatial median variation in air temperature at pedestrian heights related to the application of GR- and GW-based scenarios during the hottest hours of a typical summer day by varying the building height (BH), coverage percentage, and leaf area index. The indices are meant to be applied to built areas with 0.3–0.4 urban density in the Mediterranean climate and are derived from regression models fed with the outputs of 281 simulations of three urban areas developed and run in ENVI-met software. The developed models are all highly significant. The GR model shows that mitigation is influenced by all three parameters, and it can estimate mitigation with a root mean square error of 0.05 °C. Compared with the other parameters, the GW models revealed that the BH did not influence the decrease in air temperature. The green façade and living wall (LW) indices predict mitigation with errors of 0.04 °C and 0.05 °C, respectively. However, for the LW model, further parameters should be considered to improve its reliability.

Application of double-skin façade (DSF) elements is an important approach in a designing process of contemporary multistory timber buildings. A double-skin facade is an envelope wall element that consists of two glass components separated by a cavity and can essentially improve building-physics properties of building envelope. In a sense to reduce global warming potential (GWP) an ecological solution with a timber frame is presented in this paper. Recently, many studies have analyzed thermal and acoustic performance of DSF elements, but practically none in a sense of structural behavior, especially in determination of racking resistance of such wall elements. Because costs of experiments performed on such full-scale DSF elements are very high and such experiments are also very time-consuming, a special mathematical model using a Finite Element Method (FEM) for analyzing the racking resistance and stiffness was further developed. Finally, a specially selected four-story timber-framed building is subjected to a seismic analysis comparing the influence of the developed timber DSF elements on the overall racking behavior of that structure with non-resisting DSF function. It is demonstrated in the presented study on the selected case that the racking resistance (R) and a consequent seismic resistance of a whole building can be essentially improved if DSF elements are considered as lateral load-bearing wall elements. Consequently, such an approach by using DSF elements as additional bracing wall elements can essentially further increase a potential of designing also high-rise timber buildings with asymmetric position of transparent areas.

Ever since the introduction of energy conversion systems in the built environment, buildings have become responsible for a considerable share of global energy consumption. Many countries have therefore aimed to invest on buildings’ energy efficiency plans to reduce the depletion rate of the fossil resources and the CO2 emissions associated with them. In this context, accurate determination of building’s thermo-physical characteristics is a necessity in the processes which lead to execution of energy conservation strategies in existing buildings. These characteristics are the essential inputs for buildings’ thermal modelling, quality control, energy audits, and energy labelling, the results of which are determinant for energy renovation decisions and policies. In practice, the values of these parameters are not always available because the current determination methods are time-and-effort-expensive, and consequently rarely used. In accordance with the large deviations observed between the in-lab and in-situ thermal behaviour of building components, a special attention is laid on in-situ methods. This thesis aims at developing and testing different in-situ determination methods and approaches at different levels. Theories, simulations, and experiments, are combined for determination of a number of buildings’ most important thermo-physical characteristics. Transmission losses through the façades are known to be responsible for a significant portion of heat loss in buildings and consequently are investigated in all standard energy calculation methods. Thus, the major part of the thesis is dedicated to the thermal behaviour of exterior walls. The exact construction of existing walls is generally unknown. Consequently, the estimation of their thermal resistance, thermal conductivity, and volumetric heat capacity can be erroneous. Later, the attention is upscaled to the building level where rather than local characteristics, global characteristics are determined. At the first stage, the walls’ in-situ determination of thermal resistance has been examined. Despite the advantages of the existing standard method, “ISO 9869 Average Method” for measuring this parameter, two problems have been pointed out: long duration and imprecision. Accordingly, this phase describes and demonstrates how the simplest modifications to this standard method can improve it in terms of solving these problems. Heat transfer simulations and experiments in a variety of wall typologies have been applied to show the effect of using an additional heat flux sensor, facing the first one, installed on the opposite side of the wall. Three estimations of thermal resistance based on either indoor or outdoor heat fluxes, and the average of the two values are then defined. It is shown that one of these values satisfies the convergence criteria earlier than the other two, leading to a quicker insitu determination of thermal resistance with a higher precision. To further shorten the measurement period, in the second phase, a new transient in-situ method, Excitation Pulse Method, EPM, is developed and examined experimentally on three walls. The method is inspired by the theory of thermal response factors. In EPM, a triangular surface temperature excitation is applied at one side of the wall and the heat flux responses at both sides are measured and converted into the wall’s corresponding response factors which then leads to the wall’s thermal resistance. To validate, the results are compared to the ones obtained following the ISO 9869. The good agreement of the results confirms the possibility of measuring the Rc-value within a couple of hours. Applying this method, the overestimation of around 400% between the actual and estimated values (in practice, often based on the construction year) of thermal transmittance was resolved. Thus, EPM is believed to significantly improve the required time and accuracy in determination of the thermal behavior of walls with unknown constructions. Experimental and practical details regarding the design and construction of the method’s prototype as well as its application range are demonstrated subsequently. EPM has been patented in the Dutch patent office (Patent No. 2014467) and can be applied on in-lab and in-situ circumstances. Following the success in the proof of principle, in the third phase, detailed conditions for correct application of EPM in heavy and multi-layered walls are further studied. Heat transfer theories, simulations, and experiments are combined to evaluate the method’s performance for different types of walls. A specific attention is devoted to the relationship between the walls’ thermal response time and the response factors’ time interval, affecting the accuracy of Rc-value determination. Additionally, other hidden information in the response factors of the walls such as the possible construction are revealed. It is moreover demonstrated that in addition to the thermal resistance, the two main thermo-physical properties of a wall, the thermal conductivity and the volumetric heat capacity, as well as the wall’s thickness can be determined using inverse modelling of the Response Factors. The accuracy and precision of the method is tested in many different ways, fortifying the confidence for future application of this method. In the last phase, the advancement of smart metering and monitoring systems in buildings are considered. Such smart technologies have led to utilization of the data from, for instance, home automation systems. This data acquisition is referred to as “on-board-monitoring” category of measurements, which removes the hassle, cost, and intrusion associated with locally-conducted experiments. The problem is then observed from a perspective wider than the component level. This time, the thermo-physical characteristics are studied for a whole building rather than just the walls. It is presumed that the current and future houses and their HVAC installations are by default, equipped with basic sensors, providing on-board monitored data. Therefore, the expected available data is measured and used as input parameters. A case study of an occupied apartment, in which air temperatures, humidity, and CO2 concentrations, gas consumption, and meteorological data have been measured for one year is investigated. Global characteristics such as the heat loss coefficient and thermal capacitance are estimated through inverse modelling of a 1st order circuit analogous to the thermal model of the building, and fed by the measurement data. In addition, using construction information, winter daily air change rates leading to ventilation and infiltration heat losses are estimated from the results of the inverse modelling. These results can be used to tailor the energy efficient use of the building. In summary, the in-situ determination of walls’ thermal resistance is conducted by two methods in this thesis. The first one calls for longer measurement methods (minimum three days), but includes a straight-forward, well-known procedure. This method is highly suitable for high temperature gradients across the wall. The second method, EPM, requires more complicated instrumentation, but in return, in addition to rapid (couple of hours) determination of the Rc-value, it provides the walls’ response factors which are required for a dynamic thermal building simulation. In addition, using the results of this method, the thermal conductivity and volumetric heat capacity can be determined. EPM is most suitable for light-to-medium weighted walls and for homogeneous walls of known thickness. Stable heat flux profiles at the surfaces of the wall increase the accuracy of the method, especially when the temperature gradients across the wall are lower. Finally, as a less intrusive approach, the data from the HVAC installations’ existing sensors can be used. Global characteristics including the heat loss coefficient and the global capacitance can be then determined for a whole building, followed by ventilation and infiltration losses. Despite the low accuracy, this process is more suitable when the smart meter data is available and measurements at component level are not desired. By introducing and testing new experimental and computational methods and approaches for reliable determination of buildings’ local and global thermo-physical characteristics, this thesis pays a significant contribution to the accuracy of the energy-related predictions and operations, especially within the built environment.

IntroductionUtopian and forward looking in tenor, official narratives of urban renewal and development implicitly promote normative ideals of progress and necessary civic improvement. Yet an underlying condition of such renewal is frequently the very opposite of building: the demolition of existing urban fabric. Taking as its starting point the large-scale demolition of buildings proposed for the NSW Government’s Sydney Metro rail project, this article interrogates the role of literary treatments of demolition in mediating complex, and often contradictory, responses to transformations of the built environment. Case studies are drawn from literary texts in which demolition and infrastructure development are key preoccupations, notably Louis Aragon’s 1926 Surrealist document of a threatened Parisian arcade, Paris Peasant, and the non-fiction accounts of the redevelopment of London’s East End by British writer Iain Sinclair. Sydney UnbuiltPresently, Australia’s biggest public transport project according to the NSW Government website, the Sydney Metro is set to revolutionise Sydney’s rail future with more than 30 metro stations and a fleet of fully-automated driverless trains. Its impetus extends at least as far back as the Liberal-National Coalition’s landslide win at the 2011 New South Wales state election when Barry O’Farrell, then party leader, declared “NSW has to be rebuilt” (qtd in Aston). Infrastructure upgrades became one of the Coalition’s key priorities upon forming government. Following a second Coalition win at the 2015 election, the state of NSW, or the city of Sydney more accurately, remains today deep amidst widespread building works with an unprecedented number of infrastructure, development and urban renewal projects simultaneously underway.From an historical perspective, Sydney is certainly no stranger to demolition. This was in evidence in Demolished Sydney, an exhibition at the Museum of Sydney that captured the zeitgeist of 2016 with its historical survey of Sydney’s demolished architecture. As the exhibition media release pointed out: “Since 1788 Sydney has been built, unbuilt and rebuilt as it has grown from Georgian town to Victorian city to the global urban centre it is today” (Museum of Sydney). What this evolutionist narrative glosses over, however, is the extent to which the impact of Sydney’s significant reinventions of itself through large-scale redevelopment are often not properly registered until well after such changes have taken place. With the imminent commencement of Sydney Metro Stage 2 CBD works, the city similarly stands to lose a number of buildings that embody the civic urban ideals of an earlier era, the effects of which are unlikely to be fully appreciated until the project’s post-demolition phase. The revelation, over the past year, of the full extent of demolition required to build Sydney Metro casts a spotlight on the project and raises questions about its likely impact in reconfiguring the character of Sydney’s inner city. An Environmental Impact Statement Summary (EISS) released by the NSW Government in May 2016 confirms that 79 buildings in the CBD and surrounding suburbs are slated for demolition as part of station development plans for the Stage 2 Chatswood to Sydenham line (Transport for NSW). Initial assurances were that the large majority of acquisitions would be commercial buildings. Yet, the mix also comprises some locally-heritage listed structures including, most notably, 7 Elizabeth Street Sydney (Image 1), a residential apartment tower of 54 studio flats located at the top end of the Sydney central business district.Image 1: 7 Elizabeth Street Sydney apartment towers (middle). Architect: Emil Sodersten. Image credit: Ella Mudie.As the sole surviving block of CBD flats constructed during the 1930s, 7 Elizabeth Street had been identified by the Australian Institute of Architects as an example of historically significant twentieth-century residential architecture. Furthermore, the modernist block is aesthetically significant as the work of prominent Art Deco architect Emil Sodersten (1899-1961) and interior designer Marion Hall Best (1905-1988). Disregarding recommendations that the building should be retained and conserved, Transport for NSW compulsorily acquired the block, evicting residents in late 2016 from one of the few remaining sources of affordable housing in the inner-city. Meanwhile, a few blocks down at 302 Pitt Street the more than century-old Druids House (Image 2) is also set to be demolished for the Metro development. Prior to purchase by Transport for NSW, the property had been slated for a state-of-the-art adaptive reuse as a boutique hotel which would have preserved the building’s façade and windows. In North Sydney, a locally heritage listed shopfront at 187 Miller Street, one of the few examples of the Victorian Italianate style remaining on the street, faces a similar fate. Image 2. Druids House, 302 Pitt Street Sydney. Image credit: Ella Mudie.Beyond the bureaucratic accounting of the numbers and locations of demolitions outlined in the NSW Government’s EISS, this survey of disappearing structures highlights to what extent, large-scale transport infrastructure projects like Sydney Metro, can reshape what the Situationists termed the “psychogeography” of a city; the critical manner in which places and environments affect our emotions and behaviour. With their tendency to erase traces of the city’s past and to smooth over its textures, those variegations in the urban fabric that emerge from the interrelationship of the built environment with the lived experience of a space, the changes wrought by infrastructure and development thus manifest a certain anguish of urban dynamism that is connected to broader anxieties over modernity’s “speed of change and the ever-changing horizons of time and space” (Huyssen 23). Indeed, just as startling as the disappearance of older and more idiosyncratic structures is the demolition of newer building stock which, in the case of Sydney Metro, includes the slated demolition of a well-maintained 22-storey commercial office tower at 39 Martin Place (Image 3). Completed in just 1972, the fact that the lifespan of this tower will amount to less than fifty years points to the rapid obsolescence, and sheer disposability, of commercial building stock in the twenty first-century. It is also indicative of the drive towards destruction that operates within the project of modernism itself. Pondering the relationship of modernist architecture to time, Guiliana Bruno asks: can we really speak of a modernist ruin? Unlike the porous, permeable stone of ancient building, the material of modernism does not ‘ruin.’ Concrete does not decay. It does not slowly erode and corrode, fade out or fade away. It cannot monumentally disintegrate. In some way, modernist architecture does not absorb the passing of time. Adverse to deterioration, it does not age easily, gracefully or elegantly. (80)In its resistance to organic ruination, Bruno’s comment thus implies it is demolition that will be the fate of the large majority of the urban building stock of the twentieth century and beyond. In this way, Sydney Metro is symptomatic of far broader cycles of replenishment and renewal at play in cities around the world, bringing to the fore timely questions about demolition and modernity, the conflict between economic development and the civic good, and social justice concerns over the public’s right to the city. Image 3: 39 Martin Place Sydney. Image credit: Ella Mudie.In the second part of this article, I turn to literary treatments of demolition in order to consider what role the writer might play in giving expression to some of the conflicts and tensions, as exemplified by Sydney Metro, that manifest in ‘unbuilding’ the city. How might literature, I ask, be uniquely placed to mobilise critique? And to what extent does the writer—as both a detached observer and engaged participant in the city—occupy an ambivalent stance especially sensitive to the inherent contradictions and paradoxes of the built environment’s relationship to modernity?Iain Sinclair: Calling Time on the Grand Projects For more than two decades, British author Iain Sinclair has been mapping the shifting terrain of London and its edgelands across a spectrum of experimental fiction and non-fiction works. In addition to the thematic attention paid to neoliberal capitalist processes of urban renewal and their tendency to implode established ties between place, memory and identity, Sinclair’s hybrid documentary-novels are especially pertinent to the analysis of “writing demolition” for their distinct writerly approach. Two recent texts, Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project (2011) and London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line (2015), highlight an intensification of interest on Sinclair’s part in the growing influence exerted by global finance, hyper consumerism and security fears on the reterritorialisation of the English capital. Written in the lead up to the 2012 London Olympics, Ghost Milk is Sinclair’s scathing indictment of the corporate greed that fuelled the large-scale redevelopment of Stratford and its surrounds ahead of the Games. It is an angry and vocal response to urban transformation, a sustained polemic intensified by the author’s local perspective. A long-term resident of East London, in the 1970s Sinclair worked as a labourer at Chobham Farm and thus feels a personal assault in how Stratford “abdicated its fixed identity and willingly prostituted itself as a backdrop for experimental malls, rail hubs and computer generated Olympic parks” (28). For Sinclair, the bulldozing of the Stratford and Hackney boroughs was performed in the name of a so-called civic legacy beyond the Olympic spectacle that failed to culminate in anything more than a “long march towards a theme park without a theme” (11), a site emblematic of the bland shopping mall architecture of what Sinclair derisorily terms “the GP [Grand Project] era” (125).As a literary treatment of demolition Ghost Milk is particularly concerned with the compromised role of language in urban planning rhetoric. The redevelopment required for the Olympics is backed by a “fraudulent narrative” (99), says Sinclair, a conspiratorial co-optation of language made to bend in the service of urban gentrification. “In many ways,” he writes, “the essential literature of the GP era is the proposal, the bullet-point pitch, the perversion of natural language into weasel forms of not-saying” (125). This impoverishment and simplification of language, Sinclair argues, weakens the critical thinking required to recognise the propagandising tendencies underlying so many urban renewal programs.The author’s vocal admonishment of the London Olympics did not go unnoticed. In 2008 a reading from his forthcoming book Hackney, That Rose-Red Empire (2009), at a local library was cancelled out of fear of providing a public platform for his negative views. In Ghost Milk Sinclair reflects upon the treatment of his not yet published docu-novel as “found guilty, with no right of reply, of being political but somehow outside politics” (115). Confronted with the type of large-scale change that underpins such projects as the Olympic Games, or the Sydney Metro closer to home, Sinclair’s predicament points to the ambiguous position of influence occupied by writers. On the one hand, influence is limited in so far as authors play no formal part in the political process. Yet, when outspoken critique resonates words can become suddenly powerful, radically undermining the authority of slick environmental impact statements and sanctioned public consultation findings. In a more poetic sense, Sinclair’s texts are further influential for the way in which they offer a subjective mythologising of the city as a counterpoint to the banal narratives of bureaucratised urbanism. This is especially apparent in London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line (2015), in which Sinclair recounts a single-day street-level pedestrian exploration of the 35-mile and 33-station circuit of the new London Overground railway line. Surveying with disapproval the “new bridges, artisan bakeries, blue-bike racks and coffee shops” (20) that have sprung up along the route of the elevated railway, the initial gambit of the text appears to be to critique the London Overground as a “device for boosting property values” (23). Rail zone as “generator for investment” (31), and driver of the political emasculation of suburbs like Hackney and Shoreditch. Yet as the text develops the narrator appears increasingly drawn to the curious manner in which the Overground line performs an “accidental re-mapping of London” (24). He drifts, then, in search of: a site in which to confront one’s shadow. In a degraded form, this was the ambition behind our orbital tramp. To be attentive to the voices; to walk beside our shadow selves. To reverse the polarity of incomprehensible public schemes, the secret motors of capital defended and promoted by professionally mendacious politicians capable of justifying anything. (London Overground 127)Summoning the oneiric qualities of the railway and its inclination to dreaming and reverie, Sinclair reimagines it as divine oracle, a “ladder of initiation” (47) bisecting resonant zones animated by traces of the visionary artists and novelists whose sensitivity to place have shaped the perception of the London boroughs in the urban imaginary. It is in this manner that Sinclair’s walks generate “an oppositional perspective against the grand projects of centralized planning and management of space” (Weston 261). In a kind of poetic re-enchantment of urban space, texts like Ghost Milk and London Overground shatter the thin veneer of present-day capitalist urbanism challenging the reader to conceive of alternative visions of the city as heterogeneous and imbued with deep historical time.Louis Aragon: Demolition and ModernityWhile London Overground was composed after the construction of the new railway circuit, the pre-demolition phase of a project is, by comparison, a threshold moment. Literary responses to impending demolition are thus shaped in an unstable context as the landscape of a city becomes subject to unpredictable changes that can unfold at a very swift pace. Declan Tan suggests that the writing of Ghost Milk in the lead up to the London Olympics marks Sinclair’s disapproval as “futile, Ghost Milk is knowingly written as a documentary of near-history, an archival treatment of 2012 now, before it happens.” Yet, paradoxically it is the very futility of Sinclair’s project that intensifies the urgency to record, sharpening his polemic. This notion of writing a “documentary of near-history” also suggests a certain breach in time, which in the case of Louis Aragon’s Paris Peasant is mined for its revolutionary energies.First published in book form in 1926, Paris Peasant is an experimental Surrealist novel comprising four collage-like fragments including Aragon’s famous panegyric on the Passage de l’Opéra, a nineteenth-century Parisian arcade slated for demolition to make way for a new access road to the Boulevard Haussmann. Reading the text in the present era of Sydney Metro works, the predicament of the disappearing Opera Arcade resonates with the fate of the threatened Art Deco tower at 7 Elizabeth Street, soon to be razed to build a new metro station. Critical of the media’s overall neglect of the redevelopment, Aragon’s text pays sympathetic attention to the plight of the arcade’s business owners, railing against the injustices of their imminent eviction whilst mourning the disappearance of one of the last vestiges of the more organic configuration of the city that preceded the Haussmann renovation of Paris:the great American passion for city planning, imported into Paris by a prefect of police during the Second Empire and now being applied to the task of redrawing the map of our capital in straight lines, will soon spell the doom of these human aquariums. (Aragon 14)In light of these concerns it is tempting to cast Paris Peasant as a classic anti-development polemic. However, closer interrogation of the narrator’s ambivalent stance points to a more complicated attitude towards urban renewal. For, as he casts a forensic eye across the arcade’s shops it becomes apparent that these threatened sites hold a certain lure of attraction for the Surrealist author. The explanatory genre of the guide-book is subverted in a highly imaginative inventory of the arcade interiors. Touring its baths, brothels and hair salon, shoe shine parlour, run-down theatre, and the Café Certa—meeting place of the Surrealists—the narrator’s perambulation provides a launching point for intoxicated reveries and effervescent flights of fancy. Finally, the narrator concedes: “I would never have thought of myself as an observer. I like to let the winds and the rain blow through me: chance is my only experience, hazard my sole experiment” (88). Neither a journalist nor an historian, Paris Peasant’s narrator is not concerned merely to document the Opera Arcade for posterity. Rather, his interest in the site resides in its liminal state. On the cusp of being transformed into something else, the ontological instability of the arcade provides a dramatic illustration of the myth of architecture’s permanency. Aragon’s novel is concerned then, Abigail Susik notes, with the “insatiable momentum of progress,” and how it “renders all the more visible what could be called the radical remainders of modernity: the recently ruined, lately depleted, presently-passé entities that, for better and for worse, multiply and accumulate in the wake of accelerated production and consumption in industrial society” (34). Drawing comparison with Walter Benjamin’s sprawling Arcades Project, a kaleidoscopic critique of commodity culture, Paris Vaclav similarly characterises Paris Peasant as manifesting a distinct form of “political affect: one of melancholy for the destruction of the arcades yet also of a decidedly non-conservative devotion to aesthetic innovation” (24).Sensitive to the contradictory nature of progress under late capitalist modernity, Paris Peasant thus recognises destruction as an underlying condition of change and innovation as was typical of avant-garde texts of the early twentieth century. Yet Aragon resists fatalism in his simultaneous alertness to the radical potential of the marvellous in the everyday, searching for the fault lines in ordinary reality beneath which poetic re-enchantment challenges the status quo of modern life. In this way, Aragon’s experimental novel sketches the textures and psychogeographies of the city, tracing its detours and shifts in ambience, the relationship of architecture to dreams, memory and fantasy; those composite layers of a city that official documents and masterplans rarely ascribe value to and which literary authors are uniquely placed to capture in their writings on cities. ConclusionUnable to respond within the swift publication timeframes of journalistic articles, the novelist is admittedly not well-placed to halt the demolition of buildings. In this article, I have sought to argue that the power and agency of the literary response resides, rather, in its long view and the subjective perspective of the author. At the time of writing, Sydney Metro is poised to involve a scale of demolition that has not been seen in Sydney for several decades and which will transform the city in a manner that, to date, has largely passed uncritiqued. The works of Iain Sinclair and Louis Aragon’s Paris Peasant point to the capacity of literary texts to deconstruct those broader forces that increasingly reshape the city without proper consideration; exposing the seductive ideology of urban renewal and the false promises of grand projects that transform multifaceted cityscapes into homogenous non-places. The literary text thus makes visible what is easily missed in the experience of everyday life, forcing us to consider the losses that haunt every gain in the building and rebuilding of the city.ReferencesAragon, Louis. Paris Peasant. Trans. Simon Taylor Watson. Boston: Exact Change, 1994. Aston, Heath. “We’ll Govern for All.” Sydney Morning Herald 27 Mar. 2011. 23 Feb. 2017 <http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/state-election-2011/well-govern-for-all-20110326-1cbbf.html>. Bruno, Guiliana. “Modernist Ruins, Filmic Archaeologies.” Ruins. Ed. Brian Dillon. London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2011. 76-81.Huyssen, Andreas. Present Pasts: Urban Palimpsests and the Politics of Memory. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2003.Museum of Sydney. Demolished Sydney Media Release. Sydney: Sydney Living Museums 20 Oct. 2016. 25 Feb. 2017 <http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/2016/12/05/new-exhibition-demolished-sydney>.Paris, Vaclav. “Uncreative Influence: Louis Aragon’s Paysan de Paris and Walter Benjamin’s Passagen-Werk.” Journal of Modern Literature 37.1 (Autumn 2013): 21-39.Sinclair, Iain. Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project. London: Penguin, 2012. ———. Hackney, That Rose Red Empire. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2009.———. London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2015.Susik, Abigail. “Paris 1924: Aragon, Le Corbusier, and the Question of the Outmoded.” Wreck: Graduate Journal of Art History, Visual Art, and Theory 2.2 (2008): 29-44.Tan, Declan. “Review of Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project by Iain Sinclair.” Huffington Post 15 Dec. 2011; updated 14 Feb. 2012. 21 Feb 2017 <http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/declan-tan/ghost-milk-ian-sinclair-review_b_1145692.html>. Transport for NSW, Chatswood to Sydenham: Environmental Impact Statement Summary. 25 Mar. 2017 <http://www.sydneymetro.info>. Sydney: NSW Government, May-June 2016.Weston, David. “Against the Grand Project: Iain Sinclair’s Local London.” Contemporary Literature 56.2 (Summer 2015): 255-79.

The term “coffee palace” was primarily used in Australia to describe the temperance hotels that were built in the last decades of the 19th century, although there are references to the term also being used to a lesser extent in the United Kingdom (Denby 174). Built in response to the worldwide temperance movement, which reached its pinnacle in the 1880s in Australia, coffee palaces were hotels that did not serve alcohol. This was a unique time in Australia’s architectural development as the economic boom fuelled by the gold rush in the 1850s, and the demand for ostentatious display that gathered momentum during the following years, afforded the use of richly ornamental High Victorian architecture and resulted in very majestic structures; hence the term “palace” (Freeland 121). The often multi-storied coffee palaces were found in every capital city as well as regional areas such as Geelong and Broken Hill, and locales as remote as Maria Island on the east coast of Tasmania. Presented as upholding family values and discouraging drunkenness, the coffee palaces were most popular in seaside resorts such as Barwon Heads in Victoria, where they catered to families. Coffee palaces were also constructed on a grand scale to provide accommodation for international and interstate visitors attending the international exhibitions held in Sydney (1879) and Melbourne (1880 and 1888). While the temperance movement lasted well over 100 years, the life of coffee palaces was relatively short-lived. Nevertheless, coffee palaces were very much part of Australia’s cultural landscape. In this article, I examine the rise and demise of coffee palaces associated with the temperance movement and argue that coffee palaces established in the name of abstinence were modelled on the coffee houses that spread throughout Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries during the Enlightenment—a time when the human mind could be said to have been liberated from inebriation and the dogmatic state of ignorance. The Temperance Movement At a time when newspapers are full of lurid stories about binge-drinking and the alleged ill-effects of the liberalisation of licensing laws, as well as concerns over the growing trend of marketing easy-to-drink products (such as the so-called “alcopops”) to teenagers, it is difficult to think of a period when the total suppression of the alcohol trade was seriously debated in Australia. The cause of temperance has almost completely vanished from view, yet for well over a century—from 1830 to the outbreak of the Second World War—the control or even total abolition of the liquor trade was a major political issue—one that split the country, brought thousands onto the streets in demonstrations, and influenced the outcome of elections. Between 1911 and 1925 referenda to either limit or prohibit the sale of alcohol were held in most States. While moves to bring about abolition failed, Fitzgerald notes that almost one in three Australian voters expressed their support for prohibition of alcohol in their State (145). Today, the temperance movement’s platform has largely been forgotten, killed off by the practical example of the United States, where prohibition of the legal sale of alcohol served only to hand control of the liquor traffic to organised crime. Coffee Houses and the Enlightenment Although tea has long been considered the beverage of sobriety, it was coffee that came to be regarded as the very antithesis of alcohol. When the first coffee house opened in London in the early 1650s, customers were bewildered by this strange new drink from the Middle East—hot, bitter, and black as soot. But those who tried coffee were, reports Ellis, soon won over, and coffee houses were opened across London, Oxford, and Cambridge and, in the following decades, Europe and North America. Tea, equally exotic, entered the English market slightly later than coffee (in 1664), but was more expensive and remained a rarity long after coffee had become ubiquitous in London (Ellis 123-24). The impact of the introduction of coffee into Europe during the seventeenth century was particularly noticeable since the most common beverages of the time, even at breakfast, were weak “small beer” and wine. Both were safer to drink than water, which was liable to be contaminated. Coffee, like beer, was made using boiled water and, therefore, provided a new and safe alternative to alcoholic drinks. There was also the added benefit that those who drank coffee instead of alcohol began the day alert rather than mildly inebriated (Standage 135). It was also thought that coffee had a stimulating effect upon the “nervous system,” so much so that the French called coffee une boisson intellectuelle (an intellectual beverage), because of its stimulating effect on the brain (Muskett 71). In Oxford, the British called their coffee houses “penny universities,” a penny then being the price of a cup of coffee (Standage 158). Coffee houses were, moreover, more than places that sold coffee. Unlike other institutions of the period, rank and birth had no place (Ellis 59). The coffee house became the centre of urban life, creating a distinctive social culture by treating all customers as equals. Egalitarianism, however, did not extend to women—at least not in London. Around its egalitarian (but male) tables, merchants discussed and conducted business, writers and poets held discussions, scientists demonstrated experiments, and philosophers deliberated ideas and reforms. For the price of a cup (or “dish” as it was then known) of coffee, a man could read the latest pamphlets and newsletters, chat with other patrons, strike business deals, keep up with the latest political gossip, find out what other people thought of a new book, or take part in literary or philosophical discussions. Like today’s Internet, Twitter, and Facebook, Europe’s coffee houses functioned as an information network where ideas circulated and spread from coffee house to coffee house. In this way, drinking coffee in the coffee house became a metaphor for people getting together to share ideas in a sober environment, a concept that remains today. According to Standage, this information network fuelled the Enlightenment (133), prompting an explosion of creativity. Coffee houses provided an entirely new environment for political, financial, scientific, and literary change, as people gathered, discussed, and debated issues within their walls. Entrepreneurs and scientists teamed up to form companies to exploit new inventions and discoveries in manufacturing and mining, paving the way for the Industrial Revolution (Standage 163). The stock market and insurance companies also had their birth in the coffee house. As a result, coffee was seen to be the epitome of modernity and progress and, as such, was the ideal beverage for the Age of Reason. By the 19th century, however, the era of coffee houses had passed. Most of them had evolved into exclusive men’s clubs, each geared towards a certain segment of society. Tea was now more affordable and fashionable, and teahouses, which drew clientele from both sexes, began to grow in popularity. Tea, however, had always been Australia’s most popular non-alcoholic drink. Tea (and coffee) along with other alien plants had been part of the cargo unloaded onto Australian shores with the First Fleet in 1788. Coffee, mainly from Brazil and Jamaica, remained a constant import but was taxed more heavily than tea and was, therefore, more expensive. Furthermore, tea was much easier to make than coffee. To brew tea, all that is needed is to add boiling water, coffee, in contrast, required roasting, grinding and brewing. According to Symons, until the 1930s, Australians were the largest consumers of tea in the world (19). In spite of this, and as coffee, since its introduction into Europe, was regarded as the antidote to alcohol, the temperance movement established coffee palaces. In the early 1870s in Britain, the temperance movement had revived the coffee house to provide an alternative to the gin taverns that were so attractive to the working classes of the Industrial Age (Clarke 5). Unlike the earlier coffee house, this revived incarnation provided accommodation and was open to men, women and children. “Cheap and wholesome food,” was available as well as reading rooms supplied with newspapers and periodicals, and games and smoking rooms (Clarke 20). In Australia, coffee palaces did not seek the working classes, as clientele: at least in the cities they were largely for the nouveau riche. Coffee Palaces The discovery of gold in 1851 changed the direction of the Australian economy. An investment boom followed, with an influx of foreign funds and English banks lending freely to colonial speculators. By the 1880s, the manufacturing and construction sectors of the economy boomed and land prices were highly inflated. Governments shared in the wealth and ploughed money into urban infrastructure, particularly railways. Spurred on by these positive economic conditions and the newly extended inter-colonial rail network, international exhibitions were held in both Sydney and Melbourne. To celebrate modern technology and design in an industrial age, international exhibitions were phenomena that had spread throughout Europe and much of the world from the mid-19th century. According to Davison, exhibitions were “integral to the culture of nineteenth century industrialising societies” (158). In particular, these exhibitions provided the colonies with an opportunity to demonstrate to the world their economic power and achievements in the sciences, the arts and education, as well as to promote their commerce and industry. Massive purpose-built buildings were constructed to house the exhibition halls. In Sydney, the Garden Palace was erected in the Botanic Gardens for the 1879 Exhibition (it burnt down in 1882). In Melbourne, the Royal Exhibition Building, now a World Heritage site, was built in the Carlton Gardens for the 1880 Exhibition and extended for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition. Accommodation was required for the some one million interstate and international visitors who were to pass through the gates of the Garden Palace in Sydney. To meet this need, the temperance movement, keen to provide alternative accommodation to licensed hotels, backed the establishment of Sydney’s coffee palaces. The Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company was formed in 1878 to operate and manage a number of coffee palaces constructed during the 1870s. These were designed to compete with hotels by “offering all the ordinary advantages of those establishments without the allurements of the drink” (Murdoch). Coffee palaces were much more than ordinary hotels—they were often multi-purpose or mixed-use buildings that included a large number of rooms for accommodation as well as ballrooms and other leisure facilities to attract people away from pubs. As the Australian Town and Country Journal reveals, their services included the supply of affordable, wholesome food, either in the form of regular meals or occasional refreshments, cooked in kitchens fitted with the latest in culinary accoutrements. These “culinary temples” also provided smoking rooms, chess and billiard rooms, and rooms where people could read books, periodicals and all the local and national papers for free (121). Similar to the coffee houses of the Enlightenment, the coffee palaces brought businessmen, artists, writers, engineers, and scientists attending the exhibitions together to eat and drink (non-alcoholic), socialise and conduct business. The Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace located in York Street in Sydney produced a practical guide for potential investors and businessmen titled International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney. It included information on the location of government departments, educational institutions, hospitals, charitable organisations, and embassies, as well as a list of the tariffs on goods from food to opium (1–17). Women, particularly the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) were a formidable force in the temperance movement (intemperance was generally regarded as a male problem and, more specifically, a husband problem). Murdoch argues, however, that much of the success of the push to establish coffee palaces was due to male politicians with business interests, such as the one-time Victorian premiere James Munro. Considered a stern, moral church-going leader, Munro expanded the temperance movement into a fanatical force with extraordinary power, which is perhaps why the temperance movement had its greatest following in Victoria (Murdoch). Several prestigious hotels were constructed to provide accommodation for visitors to the international exhibitions in Melbourne. Munro was responsible for building many of the city’s coffee palaces, including the Victoria (1880) and the Federal Coffee Palace (1888) in Collins Street. After establishing the Grand Coffee Palace Company, Munro took over the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor) in 1886. Munro expanded the hotel to accommodate some of the two million visitors who were to attend the Centenary Exhibition, renamed it the Grand Coffee Palace, and ceremoniously burnt its liquor licence at the official opening (Murdoch). By 1888 there were more than 50 coffee palaces in the city of Melbourne alone and Munro held thousands of shares in coffee palaces, including those in Geelong and Broken Hill. With its opening planned to commemorate the centenary of the founding of Australia and the 1888 International Exhibition, the construction of the Federal Coffee Palace, one of the largest hotels in Australia, was perhaps the greatest monument to the temperance movement. Designed in the French Renaissance style, the façade was embellished with statues, griffins and Venus in a chariot drawn by four seahorses. The building was crowned with an iron-framed domed tower. New passenger elevators—first demonstrated at the Sydney Exhibition—allowed the building to soar to seven storeys. According to the Federal Coffee Palace Visitor’s Guide, which was presented to every visitor, there were three lifts for passengers and others for luggage. Bedrooms were located on the top five floors, while the stately ground and first floors contained majestic dining, lounge, sitting, smoking, writing, and billiard rooms. There were electric service bells, gaslights, and kitchens “fitted with the most approved inventions for aiding proficients [sic] in the culinary arts,” while the luxury brand Pears soap was used in the lavatories and bathrooms (16–17). In 1891, a spectacular financial crash brought the economic boom to an abrupt end. The British economy was in crisis and to meet the predicament, English banks withdrew their funds in Australia. There was a wholesale collapse of building companies, mortgage banks and other financial institutions during 1891 and 1892 and much of the banking system was halted during 1893 (Attard). Meanwhile, however, while the eastern States were in the economic doldrums, gold was discovered in 1892 at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie in Western Australia and, within two years, the west of the continent was transformed. As gold poured back to the capital city of Perth, the long dormant settlement hurriedly caught up and began to emulate the rest of Australia, including the construction of ornately detailed coffee palaces (Freeman 130). By 1904, Perth had 20 coffee palaces. When the No. 2 Coffee Palace opened in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1880, the Australian Town and Country Journal reported that coffee palaces were “not only fashionable, but appear to have acquired a permanent footing in Sydney” (121). The coffee palace era, however, was relatively short-lived. Driven more by reformist and economic zeal than by good business sense, many were in financial trouble when the 1890’s Depression hit. Leading figures in the temperance movement were also involved in land speculation and building societies and when these schemes collapsed, many, including Munro, were financially ruined. Many of the palaces closed or were forced to apply for liquor licences in order to stay afloat. Others developed another life after the temperance movement’s influence waned and the coffee palace fad faded, and many were later demolished to make way for more modern buildings. The Federal was licensed in 1923 and traded as the Federal Hotel until its demolition in 1973. The Victoria, however, did not succumb to a liquor licence until 1967. The Sydney Coffee Palace in Woolloomooloo became the Sydney Eye Hospital and, more recently, smart apartments. Some fine examples still survive as reminders of Australia’s social and cultural heritage. The Windsor in Melbourne’s Spring Street and the Broken Hill Hotel, a massive three-story iconic pub in the outback now called simply “The Palace,” are some examples. Tea remained the beverage of choice in Australia until the 1950s when the lifting of government controls on the importation of coffee and the influence of American foodways coincided with the arrival of espresso-loving immigrants. As Australians were introduced to the espresso machine, the short black, the cappuccino, and the café latte and (reminiscent of the Enlightenment), the post-war malaise was shed in favour of the energy and vigour of modernist thought and creativity, fuelled in at least a small part by caffeine and the emergent café culture (Teffer). Although the temperance movement’s attempt to provide an alternative to the ubiquitous pubs failed, coffee has now outstripped the consumption of tea and today’s café culture ensures that wherever coffee is consumed, there is the possibility of a continuation of the Enlightenment’s lively discussions, exchange of news, and dissemination of ideas and information in a sober environment. References Attard, Bernard. “The Economic History of Australia from 1788: An Introduction.” EH.net Encyclopedia. 5 Feb. (2012) ‹http://eh.net/encyclopedia/article/attard.australia›. Blainey, Anna. “The Prohibition and Total Abstinence Movement in Australia 1880–1910.” Food, Power and Community: Essays in the History of Food and Drink. Ed. Robert Dare. Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1999. 142–52. Boyce, Francis Bertie. “Shall I Vote for No License?” An address delivered at the Convention of the Parramatta Branch of New South Wales Alliance, 3 September 1906. 3rd ed. Parramatta: New South Wales Alliance, 1907. Clarke, James Freeman. Coffee Houses and Coffee Palaces in England. Boston: George H. Ellis, 1882. “Coffee Palace, No. 2.” Australian Town and Country Journal. 17 Jul. 1880: 121. Davison, Graeme. “Festivals of Nationhood: The International Exhibitions.” Australian Cultural History. Eds. S. L. Goldberg and F. B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 158–77. Denby, Elaine. Grand Hotels: Reality and Illusion. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. Ellis, Markman. The Coffee House: A Cultural History. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004. Federal Coffee Palace. The Federal Coffee Palace Visitors’ Guide to Melbourne, Its Suburbs, and Other Parts of the Colony of Victoria: Views of the Principal Public and Commercial Buildings in Melbourne, With a Bird’s Eye View of the City; and History of the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880, etc. Melbourne: Federal Coffee House Company, 1888. Fitzgerald, Ross, and Trevor Jordan. Under the Influence: A History of Alcohol in Australia. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2009. Freeland, John. The Australian Pub. Melbourne: Sun Books, 1977. Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace. International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney, Restaurant and Temperance Hotel. Sydney: Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace, 1879. Mitchell, Ann M. “Munro, James (1832–1908).” Australian Dictionary of Biography. Canberra: National Centre of Biography, Australian National U, 2006-12. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/munro-james-4271/text6905›. Murdoch, Sally. “Coffee Palaces.” Encyclopaedia of Melbourne. Eds. Andrew Brown-May and Shurlee Swain. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00371b.htm›. Muskett, Philip E. The Art of Living in Australia. New South Wales: Kangaroo Press, 1987. Standage, Tom. A History of the World in 6 Glasses. New York: Walker & Company, 2005. Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company Limited. Memorandum of Association of the Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company, Ltd. Sydney: Samuel Edward Lees, 1879. Symons, Michael. One Continuous Picnic: A Gastronomic History of Australia. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2007. Teffer, Nicola. Coffee Customs. Exhibition Catalogue. Sydney: Customs House, 2005.

How much do you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? (Fight Club) …The fabric of the rhizome is the conjunction, “and…and…and…” This conjunction carries enough force to shake and uproot the verb “to be.” Where are you going? Where are you coming from…These are totally useless questions. (Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari 25) Fight Club (1999) depicts the struggle of Jack (Edward Norton) to determine a sense of identity in late capitalism, under which discipline gives way to control (Deleuze 177-182), and consumer culture feminises men. Within this social structure, people no longer occupy singular subjectivities, but instead are compelled to slide between infinite subject positions, always in a state of becoming, never arriving. Jack’s sense of identity, gleaned from shiny, new possessions, is exemplary of the postmodern subject who is all malleable surface and no depth, or, to use Jean Baudrillard’s lexicon, a schizophrenic “pure screen, a switching center [sic] for all the networks of influence” (a 133). As an alternative to this hollow and meaningless subjectivity, Fight Club suggests that there is a connection between pain and aggression and ‘knowing yourself’. Confronting and engaging with the primal feelings of pain and oblivion, it is implied, will bring Jack closer to a more authentic sense of identity than he could ever buy for himself from Ikea. Jack begins to attend support groups for the ill, in search of “real pain.” The crying and sense of oblivion experienced at these groups prove cathartic for Jack. These early scenes anticipate the idea that it is not through external things that one can attain an authentic sense of identity; rather, that the quest for authentic identity has become redundant and the only way out is to aspire to something less inauthentic. The way to do this, Fight Club suggests, is to embrace hopelessness, to return to degree zero and proceed in a simpler way. Jack’s apartment and the objects it contains are metonymic for his personality: recall the scene depicting his condo complete with descriptive captions and mood music, as if it were an advertisement. This is a visual enactment of Baudrillard’s theorisation of hyperreality, defined as the kind of reality that has resulted from an ideology that no longer represents real conditions of existence, because there are no longer any real objective truths to represent (b 6, 25). By extension, Jack’s personality is a piecemeal construct of these superficial objects: “I loved that condo. I loved every stick of furniture. That was not just a bunch of stuff that got destroyed; it was me.” After destroying Jack’s apartment, Tyler (Brad Pitt) confronts Jack with a critique of the consumer ideology by which he has lived his life. Confounding distrust of women and contempt for consumerism, Tyler points out that things “could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you’re asleep and toss it out of the window of a moving car,” before launching into an assault on Jack’s consumerist lifestyle asking why Is a duvet essential to our survival in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word…We’re consumers, we are by-products of the life-style obsession. Murder, crime, poverty: these things don’t concern me: celebrity magazines, television with five hundred channels, some guy’s name on my underwear…I say, “never be complete.” I say, “stop being perfect.” I say, “let’s evolve.” It is curious that Tyler carries out this tirade while consuming mass-produced beer and cigarettes. Fight Club overtly criticises ‘feminine’ modes of consumption—agonising over which ruffled valance to buy; taking pride in one’s home wares and condiments. However, this is undercut by its complicity with more ‘masculine’ modes of consumption—smoking and drinking - which are contingent on the rugged mode of masculinity it promotes. Fight Club does not only depict postmodern subjectivity in general as in crisis; rather, the suggestion is that in the postmodern era masculine subjectivity in particular is in trouble. Jack’s struggle to recuperate a sense of authentic masculine identity involves two different types of conflict: physical and political. Through physical violence we see fighting enacted in its arguably rawest sense: hyperreal violence with no coherent objective. Political conflict in this film includes but is not limited to physical brutality, propaganda, and acts of terrorism. The two different types of struggle in this film conduct themselves under the auspices of ‘Fight Club’ and ‘Project Mayhem’, respectively. Superficially, it would appear that Fight Club and Project Mayhem are two different things: Fight Club is for the sole purpose of men engaging in physical violence and an ensuing sense of abandon, while Project Mayhem is a tightly regimented organisation devoted to resisting and attacking the capitalist system and consumer culture. While considering the two different types of conflict in isolation would make it easier to unpack the complex set of ideas which the narrative device of fighting acts as a vehicle for in this film, this would be to ignore the fact that according to Fight Club the struggle for authentic subjectivity under late capitalism is a dubious objective to begin with, that “maybe it’s a mistake to believe in the existence of things, persons, or subjects” (Deleuze 26). Fight Club is represented as a way for Jack to subvert the ideology of late capitalism and its inherent consumerism that has, up to this point, defined his subjectivity. Fight Club potentially subverts the ideology of late capitalism in two ways: first, it provides a space where class hierarchy does not apply and allows lower-class workers to be momentarily “like gods” (this inversion proves, however, to be a hierarchical structure). Secondly, the evidence of physical violence can be read as subverting the ideology of respectable presentation in the bureaucratic work place. As Jack explains: “I got right in everyone’s hostile little face. Yes, these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I’m comfortable with that. I am enlightened.” Exactly what it is that is enlightening about fighting in this film is worth consideration. In the article ‘Fuck you Hero’ in Face magazine, Edward Norton describes the point of Fight Club as “needing the punch in the face to wake yourself up.” I think it’s about more than this. Notice that Jack continues to attend Fight Club long after he proclaims, “I am enlightened.” So, it’s safe to say it’s about more than simply ‘waking yourself up’. Jack describes how fighting makes him feel saved from the emptiness of his life, that it is “not about words.” An understanding of the explicit bodily violence depicted in Fight Club can be enhanced when considered with reference to John Fiske’s ‘Offensive Bodies and Carnival Pleasures’ (1989). Developing Michel de Certeau’s thesis that “there is no law that is not inscribed on bodies” (139), Fiske asserts the primacy of the body in ideological struggles, arguing “the body is where the social is most convincingly represented as the individual and where politics can best disguise itself as human nature” (70). In actively damaging the external façade of their bodies, therefore, the members of Fight Club reject the conservative politics that inscribe themselves on the neatly presented bodies of obedient workers. Fiske also makes reference to the psychoanalytic concept ‘jouissance’ defined as “a moment of pleasure when the body breaks free from social control” (94). Given that Jack describes the experience of Fight Club as defying words, fighting could be read as an experience of jouissance which allows members to escape the dominant system of signification and that momentarily transports these men, if not closer to the ‘truth’, at least further from social constraints. While Fight Club implicates other factors as being responsible for the contemporary demise of masculinity—including the breakdown of the family unit and absentee fathers—Tyler’s address to Fight Club foreshadowing Project Mayhem is perhaps the clearest articulation in Fight Club of the disaffection felt by these men and its alleged cause: I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who have ever lived—an entire generation pumping gas and waiting tables; or they’re slaves with white collars…Advertisements have them chasing cars and clothes, working jobs they hate so they can buy shit they don’t need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no Great War, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we’d be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars—but we won’t. And we’re learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off. Following this speech, Tyler hands out homework assignments. Tasks include the incitement of violence in the wider community, and the calculated vandalism of billboards, car-yards and public art. Tyler completes his own homework assignment, threatening a convenience store attendant with death unless he takes steps immediately to return to college and pursue his dream. This scene is exemplary of the ideology of ‘following your dream’, a perversion of the capitalist ethos, that pervades Fight Club. While threatening to drive the car they are both in into oncoming traffic, Tyler urges Jack to decide what it is he wants to accomplish before he dies. This appeal to individual fulfilment contradicts the hyper-collective mentality of Project Mayhem, which dictates that members renounce their names, shave their heads, wear identical black clothing and immerse themselves in dogma: “You are not special. You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.” Tyler’s appeal to Jack to “stop trying to control everything and just let go” is dissonant with the tightly regimented structure of Project Mayhem, complete with teams and committees. The notion of pain as a portal to ‘your true self’ is recalled when Tyler gives Jack a chemical burn. Tyler expounds: Without pain…we’d have nothing…what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment. This is the greatest moment of your life…It’s only after you’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. This ideology of abandon, of ‘losing it all,’ is contradicted throughout Fight Club by Tyler’s equal appeal to rules and structure. Furthermore, Jack’s description of the feelings he experienced after fighting—“when the fight was over, nothing was solved, but nothing mattered”—seems to be embracing the converse: if nothing was solved and nothing mattered, surely ‘finding yourself’ is not important. Slavoj Zizek’s consideration of the postmodern individual can stand as a summary of the depiction of subjectivity in Fight Club. Zizek posits a subjectivity that knows no limits, when [t]he inherent obverse of ‘Be your true Self!’ is…the injunction to cultivate permanent refashioning, in accordance with the postmodern postulate of the subject’s indefinite plasticity…in short, extreme individualism reverts to its opposite, leading to the ultimate identity crisis: subjects experience themselves as radically unsure, with no ‘proper face’, changing from one imposed mask to another, since what is behind that mask is ultimately nothing, a horrifying void they are frantically trying to fill in with their compulsive activity… (373) In this sense, the narrative on subjectivity in Fight Club becomes extremely complicated, conflating extreme individualism (“follow your dream”), extreme collectivism (“you are not special”), and an endless shifting from mask to mask to mask (Cornelius—Jack—Tyler…) where no mask is privileged as more authentic than another. Fight Club is fundamentally ambivalent towards all of the issues it would explore. It promotes a discourse of ‘finding yourself’ while simultaneously insisting “you are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.” Does it all simply dissolve into postmodern irony, or does a kernel of significance remain? Beneath the contradictions the message regarding subjectivity seems to be this: the only ‘authentic’ thing about contemporary subjectivity is that at its heart lies a void. Embracing this void, while a bleak prospect, rather than frantically trying to compensate for its absence, is the only authentic gesture that remains. Works Cited Baudrillard, Jean. ‘The Ecstasy of Communication’. 1983. Trans. John Johnston. Postmodern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. London: Pluto Press, 1990. . Simulations. Trans. Paul Foss, Paul Patton and Philip Beitchman. New York: Semiotext(e), 1983. De Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. 1984. Trans. Stephen Rendall. London: University of California Press, 1988. Deleuze, Gilles and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: capitalism and schizophrenia. 1987. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2002. Deleuze, Gilles. Negotiations: 1972-1990. New York: Columbia UP, 1995. Fight Club. Dir. David Fincher. Twentieth Century Fox, 1999. Fiske, John. ‘Offensive Bodies and Carnival Pleasures’. Understanding Popular Culture. 1989. London: Routledge, 1996. McLean, Craig. ‘Fuck you Hero.’ Face. #35, December 1999. Zizek, Slavoj. The Ticklish Subject: the Absent Centre of Political Ontology. London: Verso, 1999. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Greenwood, Kate. "“You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake” " M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 6.1 (2003). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0302/09-snowflake.php>. APA Style Greenwood, K., (2003, Feb 26). “You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake” . M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,(1). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0302/09-snowflake.html

Reality TV has emerged as a visible site for contemporary debates over modern fame. In fact, while issues of ‘taste’ and cultural value have long since shaped conceptions of celebrity (Turner, Bonner, Marshall 178), the issue of fame has played a central role in the negative cultural criticisms of Reality TV. Reality programming is often invoked as short-hand to illustrate the moral ills of contemporary fame – as if it has somehow swept away the certainties of ‘the past’ where discourses of public recognition, visibility and reward are concerned. In exploring Reality TV as a site of contemporary fame, I examine here some of these claims to ‘transformation’, not so much to defend the form’s participation in celebrity culture, as to indicate that there is more going on here than these (increasingly familiar) critiques appear to suggest. We can note, for example, their tendency to simplify the history of fame (which of course then makes it far easier to situate Reality TV as a conclusive break with the past). Equally, these criticisms seem of limited use when it comes to considering what is clearly a broader cultural fascination with fame in Reality TV. Furthermore, such critiques tend to operate at a very general level, often paying little attention to how fame is actually articulated in Reality TV, and the possibilities of differences between formats. The period 2000-1 saw a number of global reality game shows emerge in the UK and elsewhere and in general terms, critics often foregrounded fame as part of a broader negative response to the use of factual programming as primarily entertainment. The pervasive screen examples of ‘would-be presenters’ or ‘wannabe models’ were invoked as antithetical to perceptions of factual programming’s traditionally more ‘worthy’ (and implicitly public service) agenda (Holmes, “All”). But in the context of fame, it is more appropriate to suggest that a number of critical positions on Reality TV have emerged. For example, in what is probably the most prevalent perspective in circulation, contestants have persistently been constructed as exemplifying, and in many ways accelerating, a shift toward a fame culture in which an emphasis on ‘famous for being famous’ has regrettably triumphed over the concepts of ‘talent’ and ‘hard work’ (Holmes, “All”) (even though this perspective is clearly far from new) (see Marshall 9-11). Second, and related to the emphasis on ‘undeserved’ fame above, has been a position which foregrounds the prominence of falsity and manufacture. Here, Reality TV contestants are seen as falling victim to the manipulative powers of a ruthless fame-making machine. Often yoked to an emphasis on the ephemeral nature of their celebrity, here we encounter cautionary tales about the price of public visibility and the lure of immediate wealth, a penalty when, as one programme put it, ‘instant television fame is over in a dream’ (Tonight with Trevor McDonald, ITV1, 13 Feb. 2004). In contrast, the centrality of the ‘ordinary’ person turned celebrity has been read in terms of democratisation, both in relation to access to the televisual airwaves (a position championed by broadcasters and producers, for example) (Bazalgette) and to the dynamics of public/ media visibility itself (see Biressi and Nunn). These positions clearly intersect, their distinctions largely inflected by the perspective of the observer. For example, what is the producer’s claim to ‘democratisation’ is the critic’s class-based distaste for all these ‘awful ordinary’ people on television (see Bazalgette). While each of these positions is limited and simplistic, collectively they do speak to changing cultural conceptions of fame. Joshua’s Gamson’s (Claims, “Assembly”) work in particular has usefully suggested a picture in which certain positions on, or ‘explanations of fame’, have had a historical significance in vying for cultural visibility (although the contours of these narratives must be swiftly drawn here). With the growth of the arts and technologies and the establishment of celebrity as a mass phenomenon (see Gamson, “Assembly” 261), public visibility became increasingly detached from aristocratic standing, with discourses of democracy – as epitomised by the American context – increasingly coming to the fore. With the Hollywood studio system representing celebrity’s later period of industrialisation, and with a controlled production system producing celebrities for a mass audience, the earlier theme of ‘greatness’ became muted into questions of ‘star quality’ and ‘talent’ (Gamson, “Assembly” 264). While the focus may now have been predominantly on the culture of the ‘personality’, Gamson argues that the primary narrative was still one of ‘natural’ rise (“Assembly” 264). However, what is crucial here is that the increasing visibility of the publicity machine itself gradually began to pose a threat to this myth. Shaped by industrial and cultural shifts such as the decline of the Hollywood studio system and the emergence of television, as well as the increasing growth of celebrity journalism, the second half of the 20th century witnessed the increasing prevalence of the ‘manufacture’ discourse, where it henceforth becomes what Gamson describes as a ‘serious contender’ in explaining celebrity (Claims 44). This is not to suggest that the older ideological myths of fame are entirely obscured but rather that, perhaps as never before, the two positions precariously jostle for visibility in the same space. Indeed, Gamson suggests that by the late 20th century, it was possible to discern strategies intended to ‘cope’ with the increasing potential for disjuncture here. In particular, he points toward the twin devices of the ‘exposure’ of the process and the construction of an ironic and mocking perspective on celebrity culture, both of which can be seen to offer the audience a flattering position of power (Claims 276). In many ways, Reality TV would appear to be paradigmatic of these discursive shifts in fame. While I emphasise the specificity of particular formats below, Reality TV in the form of Big Brother, Pop Idol or celebrity-reality shows (such as I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!), have made a particular claim to ‘reveal’ or ‘expose’ the process of fame construction – whether in terms of following ‘ordinary’ hopefuls from the audition stages to their entrance into the media world, or by claiming to offer us an unprecedented ‘access’ to existing celebrities (‘stripping’ away the celebrity façade). (While of course what Richard Dyer termed ‘the negotiation of authenticity’, or the bid to think in terms of ‘really’, has long since structured the textual mediation of celebrity, it can conceivably be seen to have witnessed an accelerated shift in these contexts.) Equally, in terms of the decline of older myths of fame, these shows exhibit a self-conscious acknowledgement of the process of image production and construction, and the use of celebrity for commercial purposes. Lastly, in mediating the threat of the manufacture discourse, they evidently speak quite explicitly to an emphasis on the ‘power’ of the audience given that, through the now familiar use of interactivity (see Holmes, “But”), they construct the audience as operating as the ultimate creator of the celebrity. This already begins to indicate how, responding to and participating in particular discursive shifts in fame, Reality TV negotiates contemporary discourses on celebrity in complex and contradictory ways. Yet this would also need to acknowledge the differences and specificities of particular formats. For example, Big Brother may well be invoked as the ultimate example of the decline of older myths of fame. The programme does not suggest that a special ‘talent’, or ‘hard work’, are necessary for fame. Indeed, time in the house is clearly organised around an excess of leisured time in which, as the primary antidotes to boredom, eating, sleeping and sunbathing are repetitiously played out before the camera’s gaze. Contestants talk self-consciously about being ‘produced’ as celebrities while in the house (in terms of the programme and wider press coverage), with the understanding that each other’s behaviour and self-presentation is clearly directed to this end. The highly opportunistic and potentially calculating conception of fame is thus self-consciously displayed in the programme itself. In comparison, drawing on the older genre of the TV talent show, the Reality pop programmes such as Popstars (2001, UK), Pop Idol (2001-2, 2003, UK), Fame Academy (2002, 2003, UK) and most recently, The X-Factor (2004, UK) are more explicitly configured around the ‘search’ for a star. In this respect, they are specifically concerned with dramatising a power relationship between music industry and audience, a dialogue which is mapped onto the narrative of the star-making process. Certainly, on one level, they are self-consciously a product of the manufacture era of fame, produced for the scrutiny of a media-aware audience entirely conversant with the concept of ‘image’ construction. In tracking the contestants through auditions, training and re-styling, we witness the open production of the famous self – often trying on different ‘images’ week by week – and the ideological constraints (such as those pertaining to body image or physical appearance) under which this process must take place. The judges equally claim to be representative articulations of the ‘reality’ of the business by foregrounding the importance of image ‘packaging’ and the selling of the self. (As the notoriously ‘nasty’ judge Simon Cowell explains in one edition of Pop Idol, ‘Ten year old girls in Hull have to want to be you… They have to buy into the “image”. Do you see?’) (12 Sep. 2003). In short, they often boldly foreground the capitalistic nature of celebrity production. But at the same time, these programmes clearly draw upon, and arguably engage the audience by, much articulating older myths of fame. Given that, in Gamson’s terms, the pervasive nature of the manufacture discourse ultimately represents a threat to the commercial enterprise of celebrity, these shows provide exemplary evidence of the ways in which the two claims-to-fame stories continue to jostle for cultural legitimacy. Celebrating a mythic emphasis on a unique, authentic and gifted self, there is a persistent bid to lay claim to an indefinable sense of ‘specialness’. Indeed, the phrases ‘you’ve got “star quality” or the “X factor” have become an increasingly self-conscious convention in the shows themselves – as suggested by the naming of the most recent UK format, The X-Factor. In their emphasis on ‘ordinariness’, ‘lucky breaks’, ‘specialness’ and ‘hard work’, they are paradigmatic of the meritocratic ideology of the ‘access myth’ (Dyer, Stars). As Fame Academy’s singing coach Carrie Grant gravely tells the contestants: ‘The only place where “success” comes before work is in the dictionary’ (14 Dec. 2002). In this respect, without the irony or humour that has become such a pervasive aspect of contemporary celebrity coverage (see Gamson, Claims, “Assembly”), the programmes clearly also re-peddle traditional explanations of fame for contemporary cultural consumption (Holmes, “Reality”). Dismissals of these programmes in terms of their promotion of ‘manufactured pop’ ignore the fact that ‘authenticity’ is not really configured around the music itself. Pop music (and particularly TV pop) has historically been configured as ‘the most inauthentic music’ (Moore 220), whether in terms of industrial production, form/ sound, or artist expression and identity. But in many ways the programmes openly acknowledge the derivative and packaged nature of ‘pop’. The aspirant pop stars often sing cover versions on the shows (although they are valued and praised for inserting their ‘individual’ style), and in Pop Idol we witness each of the three finalists record the winning song in the studio prior to the result of the (live) television vote. In this respect, evoking Adorno’s famous critique of popular music’s standardised form, their voice is a cog in a wider machine – a component part which can be substituted and exchanged. But Reality TV’s serial form, aesthetic style and pursuit of ‘the real’, asks us to buy into the authenticity of the self, that the participants are – despite the image packaging – somehow the same person that auditioned at the start. There is often equally the suggestion that Reality TV may bring out the ‘real’, ‘special’ self that was partly inside all along: As one contestant in Fame Academy is chastised after a live performance: ‘We’ve had you showing that you can be Westlife or Bryan Adams, but have we had Barry yet? Where, Barry, is the “Barryness” of Barry?’ (19 Sep. 2003). But in broad terms, with factory workers, waitresses or train drivers turning into superstars, contestants are often imagined as being more ‘authentic’ because of their class background, something which has historically been conceived to signify ‘ordinariness’ within narratives of fame. This is again paradigmatic of the older, traditional discourse of the success myth (and its close companion, the American Dream) (Dyer, Stars). In the Reality format, this is also factored though the sense that we have ‘known’ them in the moment of authentic ‘pre-fame’, when, in short, they were ‘just like us’. In the context of his wider argument that stars work to articulate ideas of personhood or selfhood (Dyer, Stars), one of Richard Dyer’s key interventions was to suggest that stars function to work through discourses of individualism (see also Marshall). Working from a broadly Marxist perspective, he explained how the perpetual attempt to negotiate authenticity in the star image worked to promote a particular concept of personhood on which capitalist society depends. Dyer conceptualised this as ‘a separable, coherent quality, located “inside” consciousness and variously termed “the self”, “the soul”, “the subject”…’ (9). Although, in the context of contemporary celebrity culture and the discourses of postmodernism, Dyer’s model of the self has been critiqued and challenged (see Lovell, King), it by no means seems redundant here. We are absolutely encouraged to seek out, recognise, and believe in, the ‘inner’ self in Reality TV, while the highly performative and mediated context of the form makes this quest more paradoxical than ever. In fact, while programmes such as Big Brother and Pop Idol may display significantly different discourses on, or explanations of fame, this ideology of selfhood permeates much of Reality TV. While in Big Brother there is much self-reflexive and dizzying discussion of ‘who is being their real selves? Who is simply playing up for the camera?’, we are asked to judge the contestants (and they are asked to judge each other), precisely by this criteria of ‘authenticity’. We only need note that – from Big Brother, the pop programmes to the celebrity-reality shows – winners are often chosen and applauded because they are seen to have been the most ‘true’ to themselves. Again, despite the self-reflexive and performative context of Reality TV, this suggests highly conservative ideologies of selfhood and individualism. As Dyer reminds us, we have historically valued stars who appear to ‘bear witness to the continuousness of their own selves’, given that ‘sincerity and authenticity are two qualities greatly prized in stars’ (11). While it is not my intention to make assumptions about audience reading strategies here, it is worth noting that existing audience research (Hill, Jones) into Reality TV has emphasised how viewers indeed obtain satisfaction from the search for ‘the real’ in Reality TV, and from actively negotiating the tensions between construction, performance and authenticity. Annette Hill describes how the ‘game’ is ‘to find the “truth” in the spectacle/performance environment’ (337), and as this quote implies, this is far from suggesting that audiences have given up on the idea of ‘the real’ in Reality TV (Hill, Jones). The primary site on which this is played out is the representation of the self – an arena which stardom and celebrity has historically placed centre stage (Dyer, Marshall). As this suggests, then, the two fields have much to discuss. While I have only touched briefly on the detail of the formats here, this discussion emphasises how Reality TV demands closer consideration in the context of claims suggesting its ‘transformation’ of celebrity. Its position with a longer history of fame, the specificities of particular formats, and the ideological parameters in which they function, all question any simple or homogenous interpretation of its impact on celebrity culture. References Adorno, Theodor. “On Popular Music.” 1941. On Record: Rock, Pop and the Written Word. Eds. Simon Frith and Andrew Goodwin. London: Routledge, 1990. 22-38. Bazalgette, Peter. “Big Brother and Beyond.” Television (Oct. 2001): 20-3. Biressi, Anita, and Heather Nunn “The Especially Remarkable: Celebrity and Social Mobility in Reality TV.” Mediactive 2 (2004): 44-58. Dyer, Richard. Stars. London: BFI, 1979 (reprinted 1998). Dyer, Richard. Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society. London: BFI, 1986. Gamson, Joshua. Claims to Fame: Celebrity in Contemporary America. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Gamson, Joshua. “The Assembly Line of Greatness: Celebrity in Twentieth-Century America.” Popular Culture: Production and Consumption. Eds. C. Lee Harrington and Denise D. Bielby. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. 259-82. Hill, Annette “Big Brother: The Real Audience.” Television and New Media 3.3 (2002): 323-41. Holmes, Su. “’All You’ve Got to Worry about Is Having a Cup of Tea and Doing a Bit of Sunbathing…’: Approaching Celebrity in Big Brother.” Understanding Reality TV. Eds. Su Holmes and Deborah Jermyn. London: Routledge, 2004. 111-35. Holmes, Su. “But This Time You Choose!: Approaching the Interactive Audience of Reality TV.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 7.2 (2004): 213-31. Holmes, Su. “Reality Goes Pop!: Reality TV, Popular Music and Narratives of Stardom in Pop Idol.” Television and New Media 5.2 (2004): 147-72. Jones, Janet. “Show Your Real Face: A Fan Study of the UK Big Brother Transmissions (2000, 2001, 2002).” New Media and Society 5.3 (2003): 400-21. King, Barry. “Embodying an Elastic Self: The Parametrics of Contemporary Stardom.” Contemporary Hollywood Stardom. Eds. Thomas Austin and Martin Barker. London: Arnold, 2003. 29-44. Lovell, Alan. “I Went in Search of Deborah Kerr, Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore But Got Waylaid…” Contemporary Hollywood Stardom. Eds. Thomas Austin and Martin Barker. London: Arnold, 2003. 259-70. Marshall, P. David. Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture. Minnesota: U of Minnesota P, 1997. Turner, Graeme, Frances Bonner, and P. David Marshall. Fame Games: The Production of Celebrity in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Holmes, Susan. "'The Only Place Where ''Success'' Comes before ''Work'' Is in the Dictionary...?': Conceptualising Fame in Reality TV." M/C Journal 7.5 (2004). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/07-holmes.php>. APA Style Holmes, S. (Nov. 2004) "'The Only Place Where ''Success'' Comes before ''Work'' Is in the Dictionary...?': Conceptualising Fame in Reality TV," M/C Journal, 7(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/07-holmes.php>.

The whole problem of speaking about the end…is that you have to speak of what lies beyond the end and also, at the same time, of the impossibility of ending. Jean Baudrillard, The Illusion of the End(110) Jean Baudrillard’s insights into finality demonstrate that “ends” always prompt cultures to speculate on what can or will happen after these terminations and to fear those traumatic ends, in which the impossible actually occurs, may only be the beginning of chaos. In the absence of “rational” explanations for catastrophic ends and in the whirlwind of emotional responses that are their after-effects, the search for beginnings and origins – the antitheses of Baudrillard’s finality – characterises human response to tragedy. Strangely, Baudrillard’s engagement with the end is linked to an articulation predicated on our ability “to speak” events into existence, to conjure and to bridle those events in terms of recognisable, linear, and logical arrangements of words. Calling this verbal ordering “the poetry of initial conditions” (Baudrillard 113) in which memory imposes a structure so that the chaotic/catastrophic may be studied and its elements may be compared, Baudrillard suggests that this poetry “fascinates” because “we no longer possess a vision of final conditions” (113). The images of contemporary catastrophes and their subsequent visualisation serve as the ultimate reminders that we, as viewers and survivors, were not there – that visualisation itself involves a necessary distance between the horrified viewer and the viewed horror. In the case of the September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Centre, the need to “be there,” to experience vicariously a trauma as similarly as possible to those who later became its victims, perhaps explains why images of the planes first slamming into each of the towers were played and repeated ad nauseam. As Baudrillard suggests, “it would be interesting to know whether…effects persist in the absence of causes … whether something can exist apart from any origin and reference” (111). The ongoing search for these causes – particularly in the case of the World Trade Centre’s obliteration – has manifested itself in a persistent cycle of image production and consumption, prompting those images to serve as the visible/visual join between our own survival and the lost lives of the attacks or as surrogates for those whose death we could not witness. These images frequently allowed the West to legitimise its mourning, served as the road map by which we could (re-)explore the halcyon days prior to September 11, and provided the evidence needed for collective retribution. Ultimately, images served as the fictive embodiments of unseen victims and provided the vehicle by which mourning could be transformed from an isolated act to a shared experience. Visitors on the Rooftop: Visualising Origins and the Moments before Destruction It goes without saying that most have seen the famous photograph of the bundled-up tourist standing on the observation deck of the World Trade Centre with one of the jets ready to strike the tower shortly thereafter (see Figure 1). Though the photograph was deemed a macabre photo-manipulation, it reached thousands of e-mail inboxes almost two weeks following the horrific attacks and led many to ponder excitedly whether this image truly was the “last” image of a pre-September 11 world. Many openly debated why someone would fabricate such an image, yet analysts believe that its creation was a means to heal and to return to the unruffled days prior to September 11, when terrorism was thought to be a phenomenon relegated to the “elsewhere” of the Middle East. A Website devoted to the analysis of cultural rumours, Urban Legends, somewhat melodramatically suggested that the photograph resurrects what recovery efforts could not re-construct – a better understanding of the moments before thousands of individuals perished: The online world is fraught with clever photo manipulations that often provoke gales of laughter in those who view them, so we speculate that whoever put together this particular bit of imaging did so purely as a lark. However, presumed lighthearted motives or not, the photo provokes sensations of horror in those who view it. It apparently captures the last fraction of a second of this man’s life ... and also of the final moment of normalcy before the universe changed for all of us. In the blink of an eye, a beautiful yet ordinary fall day was transformed into flames and falling bodies, buildings collapsing inwards on themselves, and wave upon wave of terror washing over a populace wholly unprepared for a war beginning in its midst…The photo ripped away the healing distance brought by the nearly two weeks between the attacks and the appearance of this digital manipulation, leaving the sheer horror of the moment once again raw and bared to the wind. Though the picture wasn’t real, the emotions it stirred up were. It is because of these emotions the photo has sped from inbox to inbox with the speed that it has. (“The Accidental Tourist”) While the photograph does help the viewer recall the times before our fears of terrorism, war, and death were realised, this image does not episodically capture “the last fraction of a second” in a man’s life, nor does it give credibility to the “blink-of-an-eye” shifts between beautiful and battered worlds. The photographic analysis provided by Urban Legends serves as a retrospective means of condensing the space of time in which we must imagine the inevitable suffering of unseen individuals. Yet, the video of the towers, from the initial impacts to their collapse, measured approximately 102 minutes – a massive space of time in which victims surely contemplated escape, the inevitability of escape, the possibility of their death, and, ultimately, the impossibility of their survival (“Remains of a Day” 58). Post-traumatic visualising serves as the basis for constructing the extended horror as instantaneous, a projection that reflects how we hoped the situation might be for those who experienced it, rather than an accurate representation of the lengthy period of time between the beginning and end of the attacks. The photograph of the “accidental tourist” does not subscribe to the usual tenets of photography that suggest the image we see is, to quote W.J.T. Mitchell, “a purely objective transcript of reality” (Mitchell 281). Rather, this image invites a Burginian “inva[sion] by language in the very moment it is looked at: in memory, in association, [where] snatches of words and images continually intermingle and exchange one for the other” (Burgin 51). One sees the tourist in the photograph as a smiling innocent, posing at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Through that ascription, viewers may justify their anger and melancholy as this singular, visible body (about to be harmed) stands in for countless, unseen others awaiting the same fate. Its discrepancies with the actual opening hours of the WTC observation deck and the positioning of the aircraft largely ignored, the “accidental tourist” photo-manipulation was visualised by countless individuals and forwarded to a plethora of in-boxes because September 11 realities could not be shared intimately on that day, because the death of aircraft passengers, WTC workers, and rescue personnel was an inevitable outcome that could not be visualised as even remotely “actual” or explainable. Computer-based art and design have shown us that approximations to reality often result in its overall conflation. Accordingly, our desperate hope that we have seen glimpses of the moments before tragedy is ultimately dismantled by an acknowledgement of the illogical or impossible elements that go against the basic rules of visualisation. The “accidental tourist” is a phenomenon that not only epitomises Baudrillard’s search for origins in the wake of catastrophic effects, but underscores a collective need to visualise bodies as once-living rather than presently and inevitably dead. Faces in the Smoke: Visualising the Unseen Although such photo-manipulations were rampant in the days and weeks following the attack, many people constructed their own realities in the untouched images that the media streamed to them. The World Trade Centre disaster seemed to implore photography, in particular, to resurrect both the unseen, unremembered moments prior to the airliners’ slamming into the building and to perform two distinct roles as the towers burned: to reaffirm the public’s perception of the attack as an act of evil and to catalyse a sense of hope that those who perished were touched by God or ushered peacefully to their deaths. Within hours of the attacks, photographic stills captured what many thought to be the image of Satan – complete with horns, face, eyes, nose, and mouth – within the plumes of smoke billowing from one of the towers (see Figure 2 and its detail in Figure 3). The Associated Press, whose footage was most frequently used to reference this visual phenomenon, quickly dismissed the speculation; as Vin Alabiso, an executive photo editor for AP, observed: AP has a very strict policy which prohibits the alteration of the content of a photo in any way…The smoke in this photo combined with light and shadow has created an image which readers have seen in different ways. (“Angel or Devil?”) Although Alabiso’s comments defended the authenticity of the photographs, they also suggested the ways in which visual representation and perception could be affected by catastrophic circumstances. While many observers openly questioned whether the photographs had been “doctored,” others all too willingly invested these images with ethereal qualities by asking if the “face” they saw was that of Satan – a question mirroring their belief that such an act of terrorism was clear evidence of evil masterminding. If, as Mitchell has theorised, photographs function through a dialogical exchange of connotative and denotative messages, the photographs of the burning towers instead bombarded viewers with largely connotative messages – in other words, nothing that could precisely link specific bodies to the catastrophe. The visualising of Satan’s face happens not because Satan actually dwells within the plumes of smoke, but because the photograph resists Mitchell’s dialogue with the melancholic eye. The photograph refuses to “speak” for the individuals we know are suffering behind the layers of smoke, so our own eye constructs what the photograph will not reveal: the “face” of a reality we wish to be represented as deplorably and unquestionably evil. Barthes has observed that such “variation in readings is not … anarchic, [but] depends on the different types of knowledge … invested in the image…” (Barthes 46). In traumatic situations, one might amend this analysis to state that these various readings occur because of gaps in this knowledge and because visualisation transforms into an act based on knowledge that we wish we had, that we wish we could share with victims and fellow mourners. These visualisations highlight a desperate need to bridge the viewer’s experience of survival and their concomitant knowledge of others’ deaths and to link the “safe” visualisation of the catastrophic with the utter submission to catastrophe likely felt by those who died. Explaining the faces in the smoke as “natural indentations” as Alabiso did may be the technical and emotionally neutral means of cataloguing these images; however, the spotting of faces in photographic stills is a mechanism of visualisation that humanises a tragedy in which physical bodies (their death, their mutilation) cannot be seen. Other people who saw photographic stills from other angles and degrees of proximity were quick to highlight the presence of angels in the smoke, as captured by WABC from a perspective entirely different from that in Figure 2 (instead, see Figure 3). In either scenario, photography allows the visual personification of redemptive or evil influences, as well as the ability to visualise the tragedy not just as the isolated destruction of an architectural marvel, but as a crime against humanity with cosmic importance. Sharing the Fall: Desperation and the Photographing of Falling Bodies Perhaps what became even more troubling than the imagistic conjuring of human forms within the smoke was the photographing of bodies falling from the upper floors of the North Tower (see Figure 5). Though newspapers (re-)published photographs of the debris and hysteria of the attacks and television networks (re-)broadcast video sequences of the planes’ crashing into the towers and their collapse, the pictures of people jumping from the building were rarely circulated by the media. Dennis Cauchon and Martha T. Moore characterised these consequences of the terrorist attacks as “the most sensitive aspect of the Sept. 11 tragedy … [that] shocked the nation” (Cauchon and Moore). A delicate balance certainly existed between the media’s desire to associate faces with the feelings of desperation we know those who died must have experienced and a now-numb general public who ascribed to the photographs an unequivocal “too-muchness.” To read about those who jumped to escape smoke and flames reveals a horrific and frightfully swift narrative of panic: For those who jumped, the fall lasted 10 seconds. They struck the ground at just less than 150 miles per hour – not fast enough to cause unconsciousness while falling, but fast enough to ensure instant death on impact. People jumped from all four sides of the north tower. They jumped alone, in pairs and in groups. (Cauchon and Moore) The text contextualises these leaps to death in terms that are understandable to survivors who read the story and later discover these descriptions can never approximate the trauma of “being there”: Why did they jump? How fast were they travelling? Did they feel anything when their bodies hit the ground? Were they conscious during their jump? Did they die alone? These questions and their answers put into motion the very moment that the photograph of the jumping man has frozen. Words act as extensions of the physical boundaries of the photograph and underscore the horror of that image, from the description of the conditions that prompted the jump to the pondering of the death that was its consequence. If, as Jonathan Crary’s analysis of photographic viewing might intimate, visualisation prompts both an “autonomy of vision” and a “standardisation and regulation of the observer” (Crary 150), the photograph of a man plummeting to his death fashions the viewer’s eye as autonomous and alive because the image he/she views is the undeniable representation of a now-deceased Other. Yet, as seen in the often-hysterical responses to the threats of terrorism in the days following September 11, this “Other” embodies the very possibility of our own demise. Suddenly, the man we see in mid-air becomes the visualised “Every(wo)man” whose photographic representation also represents our unacknowledged vulnerabilities. Thus, trauma is shared through a poignant visual negotiation of dying: the certainty of the photographed man’s death juxtaposed with the newly realised or conjured threat of the viewer’s own death. In terms of humanness, those who witnessed these falls firsthand recall the ways in which the falling people became objectified – their fall seemingly robbing them of any visible sense of humanity. Eric Thompson, an employee on the seventy-seventh floor of the South Tower, shared an instantaneous moment with one of the victims: Thompson looked the man in the face. He saw his tie flapping in the wind. He watched the man’s body strike the pavement below. “There was no human resemblance whatsoever,” Thompson says. (Cauchon and Moore) Obviously, the in-situ experience of viewing these individuals hopelessly jumping to their deaths served as the prompt to run away, to escape, but the photograph acts as the frozen-in-time re-visitation and sharing of – a turning back toward – this scenario. The act of viewing the photographs reinstates the humanness that the panic of the moment seemingly removed; yet, the disparity between the photograph’s foreground (the jumping man) and its background (the building’s façade) remains its greatest disconcerting element. Unlike those photographic portraits that script behaviours and capture us in our most presentable states of being, this photograph reveals the unwilling subject – he who has not consented to share his state of being with the camera. Though W.J.T. Mitchell suggests that “[p]hotographs…seem necessarily incomplete in their imposition of a frame that can never include everything that was there to be…‘taken’” (Mitchell 289), the eye in times of catastrophe shifts between its desire to maintain the frame (that does not visually engage the inferno from which the man jumped or the concrete upon which he died) and its inability to do so. This photograph, as Mitchell might assert, “speaks” because visualisation allows its total frame of reference to extend beyond its physical boundaries and, as evidenced by post-September 11 phobias and our responses to horrific images, to affect the very means by which catastrophe is imagined and visualised. Technically speaking, the negotiated balance between foreground and background in the photograph is lost: the desperation of the falling man juxtaposed with a seemingly impossible background that should not have been there. Lost, too, is the viewer’s ability to “connect” visually with – literally, to share – that experience, to see oneself within the contexts of that particular visual representation. This inability to see the viewing self in the photograph is an ironic moment of experiential possibility that lingers still in the Western world’s fears surrounding terrorism: when the supposedly impossible act is finally visualised, territorialised, and rendered as possible. Dead Art: The Destructions and Resurrections of Works by Rodin In many ways, the photographing of those experiences so divorced from our own contributed to intense discussions of perspective in visualisation: the viewer’s witnessing of trauma by means of a camera and photographer that captured the image from a “safe” distance. However, the recovery of artwork that actually suffered damage as a result of the World Trade Centre collapse prompted many art historians and theorists to ponder the possibilities of art’s death and to contemplate the fate of art that is physically victimised. In an anticipatory vein, J.M. Bernstein suggests that “art ends as it becomes progressively further distanced from truth and moral goodness, as it loses its capacity to speak the truth about our most fundamental categorical engagements…” (Bernstein 5). If Bernstein’s theory is applied to those works damaged at the World Trade Centre site, the sculptures of Rodin, so famously photographed in the weeks of excavation that followed September 11, could be categorised as “dead” – distanced from the “truth” of human form that Rodin cast, even further from the moral goodness and the striving toward global peace that the Cantor Fitzgerald collection aimed to embrace. While many art critics believed that the destroyed works should not be displayed again, many (including Fritz Koenig, who designed The Sphere, which was damaged in the terrorist attacks) believe that such “dead art” deserves, even requires, resuscitation (see Figure 6). Much like the American flags that survived the infernos at the World Trade Centre and Pentagon site, these lost and re-discovered artworks have served as rallying points to accomplish both the sharing of trauma and an artistically inspired foundation for the re-development of the lower Manhattan site. In the case of Rodin’s The Thinker, which was recovered at the site and later presumed stolen, the statue’s discovery alongside aircraft parts and twisted steel girders served as a unique and rare survival story, almost as the surrogate representative body for those human bodies that were never found, never seen. Dan Barry and William K. Rashbaum recall that in the days following the sculpture’s disappearance, “investigators have been at Fresh Kills [landfill] and at ground zero in recent weeks, flashing a photograph of ‘The Thinker’ and asking, in effect: Have you seen this symbol of humanity” (Barry and Rashbaum)? Given such symbolic weight, sculpture most certainly took on superhuman proportions. Yet, in the days that followed the discovery of artwork that survived the attacks, only passing references were made to those figurative paintings and drawings by Picasso, Hockney, Lichtenstein, and Miró that were lost – perhaps because their subject matter or manner of artistic representation did not (or could not) reflect a “true” infliction of damage and pain the way a three-dimensional, human-like sculpture could. Viewers visualised not only the possibility of their own cultural undoing by seeing damaged Rodins, but also the embodiment of unseen victims’ bodies that could not be recovered. In a rousing speech about September 11 as an attack upon the humanities and the production of culture, Bruce Cole stated that “the loss of artifacts and art, no matter how priceless and precious, is dwarfed by the loss of life” (Cole). Nevertheless, the visualisation of maimed, disfigured art was the lens through which many individuals understood the immensity of that loss of life and the finality of their loved ones’ disappearances. What the destruction and damaging of artwork on September 11 created was an atmosphere in which art, traditionally conjured as the studied and inanimate subject, transformed from a determined to a determining influence, a re-working of Paul Smith’s theory in which “the ‘subject’ … is determined – the object of determinant forces; whereas ‘the individual’ is assumed to be determining” (Smith xxxiv). Damaged sculptures gave representative form to the thousands of victims we, as a visualising public, knew were inside the towers, but their survival spoke to larger artistic issues: the impossibility of art’s end and the foiling of its death. Baudrillard’s notion of the “impossibility of ending” demonstrates that the destruction of art (in the capitalistic sense that is contingent on its undamaged condition and its prescribed worth and “value”) does not equate to the destruction of meaning as such, but that the new and re-negotiated meanings deployed by injured art frighteningly implicate us – viewers who once assigned meaning becoming the subjects who long to be assigned something, anything, be it solace, closure, or retribution. Importantly, the latest plans for the re-vitalised World Trade Centre site indicate that the damaged Rodin and Koenig sculptures will semiotically mediate the significations established when the original World Trade Centre was a vital nexus of activity in lower Manhattan, the shock and pain experienced when the towers collapsed and individuals were searching for meaning in art’s destruction and survival, and the hope many have invested in the new buildings and their role in the maintenance and recovery of memory. A Concluding Thought Digital manipulation, photography, and the re-contextualisation of artistic “masterpieces” from their hermetic placement in the gallery to their brutal dumping in a landfill have served as the humanistic prompts that actively determined the ways in which culture grappled with and shared unimaginable horror. Images have transformed in purpose from static re(-)presentations of reality to active, changing conduits by which pasts can be remembered, by which the intangibility of death can be given substance, by which unshared moments can be more intimately considered. Oddly, visualisation has performed simultaneously two disparate functions: separating the living from the dead through a panoply of re-affirming visual experiences and permitting the re-visitation of those times, events, and people that the human eye could not see itself. Ultimately, what the manipulations, misinterpretations, and destructions of art show us is that the conveyance of meaning between individuals, whether dead or alive, whether seen or unseen, is the image’s most pressing and difficult charge. Works Cited “Angel or Devil? Viewers See Images in Smoke.” Click on Detroit. 17 Sep. 2001. 10 February 2003 <http://www.clickondetroit.com/sh/news/stories/nat-news-96283920010917-120936.php>. Barry, Dan, and William K. 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Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1988. “The Accidental Tourist.” Urban Legends. 20 Nov. 2001. 21 Feb. 2003 <http://www.snopes2.com/rumors/crash.htm>. Links http://www.clickondetroit.com/sh/news/stories/nat-news-96283920010917-120936.html http://www.sltrib.com/2002/sep/09042002/nation_w/768120.htm http://www.snopes2.com/rumors/crash.htm Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Smith, Royce W.. "The Image Is Dying" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0304/09-imageisdying.php>. APA Style Smith, R. W. (2003, Apr 23). The Image Is Dying. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0304/09-imageisdying.php>