Zeitschriftenartikel zum Thema „United States National Museum. Hippisley Collection“

The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History (NMNH) Department of Paleobiology (Paleo) is the steward of the world’s largest fossil collection. The collection is made of 40 million objects housed in 11,000 cases plus 2,600 square meters in oversized housing, all spread over four separate facilities. The collection contains fossil representatives of the entire history of life. The Smithsonian has been accessioning fossils since the late 1880s, and the collection is actively growing through field research of museum scientists as well as through the acquisition of sizeable orphaned collections. The collection database (Axiell EMu) contains about 660,000 specimen catalog records of the estimated 14,000,000 records required to digitally database the entire collection. NMNH Paleo strives to care for and manage the collection in a way that meets the highest standards for collections accessibility and accountability. Our collections management priorities are: ensuring the collections are physically preserved, housed, and arranged to ensure long-term preservation and accessibility; making the collections holdings and associated data digitally discoverable and accessible through Smithsonian data-management systems and global data-sharing utilities; establishing and implementing best-practice systems for managing research-quality specimen data and data-lifecycle management; implementing sustainable workflows for mass-digitization specimen databasing, 2D and 3D imaging, georeferencing, and transcription of relevant collections labels and analog records; requiring all registration activities including acquisitions, loans, borrows, disposals, shipments, permits, and repository agreements meet the highest ethical and legal standards for documentation; leveraging our professional expertise in collections management to train students and avocational collectors in fossil collections care; and to actively collaborate with paleobiologists and other museum researchers and stakeholders to advance the discipline of paleobiology and collections-based research. Addressing these priorities at the scale of the NMNH Paleo collection requires a deliberate strategy and disciplined project management, especially given that staff and resources are limited. The NMNH and the overarching Smithsonian organizational structure use several museum- and institution-wide metrics and reporting systems for evaluating the collections against its strategic goals. Within NMNH Paleo, these metrics are applied to and enhanced by projects that address the priorities listed above. The projects presented here were developed as part of a strategy to meet departmental, museum, and institutional goals. They are integrated across the department and include surveys, assessments, and the development of data standards and workflows. The success of the projects is most dependent on strong communication and teamwork among the department staff.

This article describes the National Park Service's (NPS) progress in an ongoing effort to develop museum collection significance criteria for its geology, paleontology, biology, archeology, ethnography/ethnology, history, and archival collections. The goal is to create sets of significance criteria that are practical, flexible, recognize the associative value of the NPS's collections, and provide continuity and context for the stewardship of collections over time. Effective significance criteria will increase the intellectual understanding of collections; inform and record collection acquisition and deaccession; and assist in management decisions related to collections. This is an immense undertaking complicated by differences among disciplines and a large geographic scope. The significance criteria effort requires agency support through a national staff coordinator and funding for the final development and implementation phases.

Mites in the family Trombiculidae sensu lato are parasites of terrestrial vertebrates, even humans, in their larval stage. There are more than 3,700 species of chiggers, and about one-third of these species are represented by type specimens in the Smithsonian Institution’s United States National Museum Entomology Collection. Here we provide a catalog of all primary and secondary type specimens of chiggers (holotype, paratype, syntype, lectotype, and paralectotype) housed in the collection. Listed herein are 1,026 type specimens with 645 representing holotypes, 782 paratypes, 69 syntypes, 19 lectotypes, and 16 paralectotypes of larvae, deutonymphs, and adult chiggers.

ABSTRACT Southeast Michigan is home to one of the largest, most highly concentrated populations of people of Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) descent in the United States. This case study includes summaries of MENA-related collections at four separate repositories: the Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan, the Arab American National Museum, the Dearborn Historical Museum, and Eastern Michigan University Archives. This region not only provides unparalleled archival holdings, but researchers and archivists are actively working with local MENA communities to create future collections. In this study, staff from each of the four profiled institutions have contributed a summary that links collections across institutions and illustrates the importance of visiting two or more sites to fully understand the region's Arab American community. The authors reveal how researchers can find a rich collection of artifacts and photographs, oral histories, personal papers and organizational records, published materials, and government documents all within a half-hour drive of the Detroit Metro Airport. These collections, which are local, national, and international in scope, make metropolitan Detroit a crucial research site for historians, anthropologists, sociologists, and other scholars examining the life and culture of MENA communities across the United States.

AbstractAlloxysta Förster, 1869 (Hymenoptera: Figitidae) type material of 19 nominal species deposited in the Canadian National Collection of Insects (Ottawa, Ontario, Canada) and the United States National Museum of Natural History (Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America) were studied. Nine species are treated as valid: A. australiae (Ashmead, 1900), A. commensuratus Andrews, 1978, A. japonicus (Ashmead, 1904), A. lachni (Ashmead, 1885), A. longiventris Baker, 1896, A. minuscula Andrews, 1978, A. nothofagi Andrews, 1976, A. vandenboschi Andrews, 1978, and A. xanthopsis (Ashmead, 1896). The following synonymies are established: A. affinis (Baker, 1896) and A. quebeci Andrews, 1978 junior synonyms of A. castanea (Hartig, 1841); A. alaskensis Ashmead, 1902 and A. coniferensis Andrews, 1978 junior synonyms of A. macrophadna (Hartig, 1841); A. bicolor (Baker, 1896) and A. anthracina Andrews, 1978 junior synonyms of A. obscurata (Hartig, 1840); A. dicksoni Andrews, 1978 junior synonym of A. pilipennis (Hartig, 1840); and A. leguminosa (Weld, 1920), A. megourae (Ashmead, 1887), and A. rauchi Andrews, 1978 junior synonyms of A. brevis (Thomson, 1862). The type material of A. schlingeri Andrews, 1978 and A. halli Andrews, 1978 could not be found and we consider them as nomina dubia. Alloxysta vandenboschi Andrews is removed from synonymy with A. obscurata and considered a valid species. Comments on the type material are given. Complete redescriptions and images are presented for the valid species.

The cooling during the Pliocene that preceded major continental glaciation in North America is recorded by thick fluvial and lacustrine sequences at Hagerman Fossil Beds National Monument (HAFO) in southcentral Idaho (McDonald et al., 1996). Fossiliferous beds at HAFO occur within the nearly 200 m of exposed Glenns Ferry Formation west of the Snake River. This formation extends from southwestern Idaho into easternmost Oregon (Malde and Powers, 1962). The Glenns Ferry Formation within HAFO contains hundreds of localities that are within the Blancan North American Land Mammal Age. Collection of specimens from these localities since the late 1920s has resulted in large repositories of fossils currently housed, in part, at the United States National Museum, the University of Michigan Museum of Paleontology (UMMP), and the Idaho Museum of Natural History (IMNH); additionally, smaller collections were accumulated by other museums (McDonald et al., 1996). Today the paleontological resources of HAFO are stewarded by the National Park Service. In spite of the extensive previous collections, significant new discoveries are still being made at HAFO.

Friable natural products are often used in articles of personal adornment, and the perishable nature of these materials presents a unique challenge to museums. At the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History, a collection of gowns worn by the First Ladies of the United States is a popular display of historical and sentimental import. Opened to the public on February 1, 1914, fifteen gowns were displayed as part of a “Period Costumes“ exhibit in the U.S. National Museum (now known as the Arts and Industries Building). Within just a few years, the exhibit was recognized as “one of the most interesting and popular in the Museum.” A First Ladies' Hall was created in the mid-1950s to exhibit the gown collection in period room settings. This design theme continued when the Hall moved to the Museum of American History and Technology (now the National Museum of American History) in 1964. The First Ladies' Hall was closed for renovation in 1987, allowing the curatorial staff to reassess the collection's use and conservators to perform long overdue examinations and treatments. Reinstallation of the exhibit is scheduled for spring 1992.The First Ladies' conservation project includes a history of each gown's use and exhibition as related to its physical condition and also includes stabilization treatments to meet the demands of future display. The current conservation project provided an unusual opportunity for extensive research into fabric deterioration of a popular and important collection. The goals of the research are twofold: first, to determine each object's state of preservation by studying the effectivenss of several analytical approaches with minimal destructive sampling and, second, to begin investigating the mechanisms involved in the degradation of silk, the material predominant in this collection.

Since the granting of Native American materials – excavated in archaeological projects sponsored by federal and state governments across the United States in the 20th century – to public repositories, museum professionals have sought to manage such collections with care. At the University of Missouri, students responding to the local mandate of NAGPRA advocated a public investigation into the issue of Native American collections repatriation in the early 1990s. Their activism in part transformed campus praxis in three ways, effecting ethical shared decision-making, appropriate public access, and policy-level leadership. This paper examines the primary sources generated by students, faculty, and local and national journalists to broadly comprehend how community members continue to address Native collections management and access in a public land-grant university setting.

Examination of a small collection of Oniscidea from Costa Rica revealed the presence of two species new to science (Ischioscia martinae sp.nov. and Scleropactes talamancensis sp.nov.). Further specimens from the collection of the United States National Museum were reexamined to reconsider the status of Philoscia muscorum (Scopoli, 1793) and Ischioscia variegata (Dollfus, 1893), both of which have been reported from Costa Rica. The specimens belong to two new species (Ischioscia muelleri sp.nov. and Ischioscia elongata sp.nov.). Redescriptions of Ligia baudiniana Milne Edwards, 1840 from the shores of both the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean and the type material of Ischioscia variegata (Dollfus, 1893) from Venezuela are also presented.

A total of 1557 species belonging to 56 families of the order Lepidoptera is listed from Cuba, along with the source ofeach record. Additional literature references treating Cuban Lepidoptera are also provided. The list is based primarily onliterature records, although some collections were examined: the Instituto de Ecología y Sistemática collection, Havana,Cuba; the Museo Felipe Poey collection, University of Havana; the Fernando de Zayas private collection, Havana; andthe United States National Museum collection, Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC. One family, Schreckensteinidae,and 113 species constitute new records to the Cuban fauna. The following nomenclatural changes are proposed: Paucivenahoffmanni (Koehler 1939) (Psychidae), new comb., and Gonodontodes chionosticta Hampson 1913 (Erebidae), syn. nov.,is a synonym of Gonodontodes dispar Hampson 1913. Burca cubensis (Skinner 1913) (Hesperiidae), and Eulepidotis reflexa (Herrich-Schäffer 1869) (Erebidae) are revised and revalidated.

ABSTRACTIn 2003, the Autry Museum of the American West merged with the Southwest Museum of the American Indian, which housed the second largest collection of Native American objects in the country. Included within this collection is the Braun Research Library Collection, which consists of works of art on paper, rare books, scholarly publications, manuscripts, photographs, correspondences, maps and sound recordings, and other archival materials, many of which relate to the early development of the disciplines of archaeology and anthropology in the United States. For over a century, both national and international researchers have used the museum's collections and archival materials with a relative open access. However, due to the culturally sensitive nature of many of these collections and the growth of how information can be made accessible, the Autry institution is currently developing procedures that affect access, especially for those researchers who wish to study archaeological archives. Staff from multiple departments are collaborating on addressing these concerns, including developing new policies while improving access to Native American tribes, communities, and researchers in preparation for the new off-site Autry Resources Center and storage facility where the collection will be housed in the future.

The collection of the United States National Museum of Natural History includes 183 type specimens of Yponomeutoidea: 106 holotypes, 24 lectotypes, 2 neotypes and 14 species described from syntypes. The primary type specimens of Yponomeutoidea are catalogued with annotations of their collecting data, specimen condition and, if any, uncertainty involving in the type series. Lectotypes are designated for 23 species comprising six Argyresthiidae: Argyresthia alternatella Kearfott, 1908, A. bolliella Busck, 1907, A. castaneella Busck, 1915, A. furcatella Busck, 1916, A. laricella Kearfott, 1908, A. libocedrella Busck, 1916; two Attevidae: Atteva exquisita Busck, 1912, Oeta comptana var. floridana Neumoegen, 1891; Bedelliidae: Bedellia minor Busck, 1900; two Glyphipterigidae: Abrenthia cuprea Busck, 1915, Glyphipterix semiflavana Issiki, 1930; two Heliodinidae: Lamprolophus lithella Busck, 1900, Scelorthus pisoniella Busck, 1900; three Lyonetiidae: Leucoptera erythrinella Busck, 1900, L. pachystimella Busck, 1904, L. smilaciella Busck, 1900; Praydidae: Eucatagma amyrisella Busck, 1900; three Yponomeutidae: Swammerdamia castaneae Busck, 1914, Zelleria celastrusella Kearfott, 1903, Z. gracilariella Busck, 1904; three putative yponomeutoids: Pliniaca bakerella Busck, 1907, Pl. sparsisquamella Busck, 1907, Podiasa chiococcella Busck, 1900.

Mariusz Hermansdorfer (1940–2018) passed away in Wrocław on the 18th of August this year. He was a director of the National Museum in Wrocław in the years 1983–2013, custodian of the contemporary art department of this museum from 1972, critic, curator of exhibitions, one of the most significant figures in Polish Culture of the past half-century. Born in Lviv, he studied art history at the University of Wrocław. While still at university, he started working for the Silesian Museum (since 1970 named the National Museum). In 1967, he moved to the branch of the Municipal Museum of Wrocław – the Museum of Current Art, which at the time was getting ready for its opening. There he worked together with Jerzy Ludwiński, one of their achievements being the memorable Fine Arts Symposium Wrocław ’70, and was engaged in the activity of the Mona Lisa Gallery run by Ludwiński. He returned to the National Museum in 1972, and became a custodian of the contemporary art department up to his retirement in 2013. There he created, starting practically from scratch, one of the best collections of Polish contemporary art in the country, abundant in works of such artists as Magdalena Abakanowicz, Tadeusz Brzozowski, Edward Dwurnik, Józef Gielniak, Władysław Hasior, Józef Hałas, Maria Jarema, Jerzy Kalina, Tadeusz Kantor, Jan Lebenstein, Natalia LL, Jerzy Nowosielski, Jerzy Rosołowicz, Jonasz Stern, Jan Tarasin and many others. The predominant artists of this collection were those of metaphor and expression. From the mid-1970s he was a curator of Polish presentations at international art festivals – in Cagnessur- Mer, São Paulo and New Delhi. He used to organise exhibitions from museum collections in Germany, Great Britain, the United States and the Netherlands. As an art critic he was writing mainly for the monthly “Odra”; in 1990 he became a member of its Editorial Board. The writings of Mariusz Hermansdorfer can also be found in catalogues and scholarly publications of the National Museum in Wrocław.

John Rae, a Scottish antiquarian collector and spirit merchant, played a highly prominent role in the local natural history societies and exhibitions of nineteenth-century Aberdeen. While he modestly described his collection of archaeological lithics and other artefacts, principally drawn from Aberdeenshire but including some items from as far afield as the United States, as a mere ‘routh o’ auld nick-nackets' (abundance of old knick-knacks), a contemporary singled it out as ‘the best known in private hands' (Daily Free Press 4/5/91). After Rae's death, Glasgow Museums, National Museums Scotland, the University of Aberdeen Museum and the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, as well as numerous individual private collectors, purchased items from the collection. Making use of historical and archive materials to explore the individual biography of Rae and his collection, this article examines how Rae's collecting and other antiquarian activities represent and mirror wider developments in both the ‘amateur’ antiquarianism carried out by Rae and his fellow collectors for reasons of self-improvement and moral education, and the ‘professional’ antiquarianism of the museums which purchased his artefacts. Considered in its wider nineteenth-century context, this is a representative case study of the early development of archaeology in the wider intellectual, scientific and social context of the era.

One of the major issues confronting U. S. courts in international cultural property cases is the significance of foreign export restriction violations. This is a particularly sensitive issue for museums in art purchasing nations since aggressive support of the view that export restriction violation is theft could result in the return of much of a museum's collection. In fact, Thomas Hoving, past director of New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art stated, “almost every antiquity that has arrived in America in the past ten to twenty years has broken the laws of the country from which it came.”

An annotated checklist of the soft scale insects (Hemiptera: Coccidae) is given for the Central American country of Guatemala. Host and locality data is presented for each species, along with notes on its taxonomic status. The list was developed from study of materials collected in Guatemala by the author and others during the years 1990-2007, and from a review of the literature and records and slide material in the United States National Museum Coccoidea Collection. A study of these materials has increased the number of soft scale insects currently known from Guatemala to 29 species belonging to 23 genera. Guatemala currently ranks second in the number of soft scale insects known from Central American countries below Panama, which has 36 recorded species belonging to 18 genera.

A total of 67 specimens from the National History Museum, London, UK and from the United States National ParasiteCollection, Beltsville, USA, which had previously been identified as Mesocoelium monas Rudolphi, 1819 from a varietyof definitive hosts (amphibians, reptiles and a fish), were reevaluated using available literature and the keys to nine bodytypes of species developed by Dronen et al. (2012). Fifteen specimens were of insufficient quality to be placed into a bodytype. In the remaining 52, only four body types (mesembrinum, monas, lanceatum, and pesteri) were encountered. Noneof the 52 specimens conformed to either the original description of M. monas by Rudolphi in 1819 or the subsequent re-description by Freitas in 1958. Although some authors have proposed sweeping synonymies of species in the genus re-ducing the number of species to as few as four in a study by Nasir & Dìaz in 1971, the results of the present study suggestthat there are likely numerous species worldwide. The usefulness of some characters in separating species of Mesocoelium is discussed.

Xyleborini currently consists of more than 1168 species in 36 genera, nearly all of which were described in Xyleborus (Hulcr et al. 2015; Smith 2017). The tribe has been the focus of considerable taxonomic attention over the last decade resulting in phylogenetically based revisions and the erection of new genera (e.g. Hulcr et al. 2007, Hulcr and Cognato 2010). However in the Old World these efforts have largely been restricted to faunas of particular countries such as Taiwan (Beaver and Liu 2010), Thailand (Beaver et al. 2014), and Papua New Guinea (Hulcr and Cognato 2008). The region’s fauna was primarily described from the 1890s to the 1940s by three authors, W.F.H. Blandford, Hans Eggers and Karl Schedl. During the 1920s to the 1940s Eggers described numerous Xyleborus species from India and Myanmar (Burma), typically from single specimens or a small series, and deposited them in the Forest Research Institute (FRI) in Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India. Cotypes (paratypes), if present for the species, were kept in his collection. Upon his death, his collection was sent to the United States National Museum of Natural History but Schedl retained many of the types that are now at the Naturhistorisches Museum Wien (NHMW). In all, FRI houses 50 xyleborine holotypes, and most of these species are solely known from the holotype.

The Goose Lake meteorite, a 2,573 lb (1,167 kg) iron, was found by three deer hunters on lava beds in the Modoc National Forest in northeast California in October, 1938. Although several California persons wanted possession of the meteorite for various California institutions, under the powers of the 1906 Antiquities Act meteorites found on US federal lands were typically transferred to the US National Museum at the Smithsonian Institution and accessioned into the National Collection of Meteorites. With authorization from the US Department of Agriculture, the Smithsonian began a correspondence with one of the meteorite's finders to arrange for its retrieval. But the situation became complicated and controversial when meteorite collector/dealer Harvey H. Nininger (1887-1986), who harboured hopes that the meteorite might be on a parcel of private land in the National Forest, falsely presented himself to the finder as a Smithsonian agent, and was taken to the site of the meteorite. A survey showed the meteorite was on federal land, however, and the Smithsonian reluctantly allowed Nininger to oversee its recovery. During the time that the meteorite was on loan from the Smithsonian and on exhibit at the San Francisco World's Fair, considerable pressure from various California individuals and institutions was put on the Smithsonian to keep the meteorite in California, but it was accessioned into the Smithsonian's National Collection of Meteorites and shipped to Washington, DC. The controversial history of the Goose Lake meteorite affirmed the applicability of the Antiquities Act with regard to the disposition of meteorites found on US federal lands, and set the stage for the later court rulings involving the Old Woman meteorite, a large (2,753 kg) iron found on government land in California in 1976. Problematic ownership issues like those involving the Goose Lake meteorite exist in other countries besides the United States, and in other branches of natural history, especially paleontology. The Goose Lake meteorite is famous for its numerous and enigmatic large holes and cavities, and is a popular attraction at the Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC.

During a study of members of the genus Pygidiopsis from wading birds from the Texas gulf coast, specimens of Caiguiria anterouteria from the United States National Parasite Collection and from the Senckenberg Museum, Frankfurt and specimens of Pygidiopsis macrostomum from the Natural History Museum, London were examined. These specimens demonstrated ranges of characteristics that called in to question their assignment to either Pygidiopsis or Caiguiria. Species of Pygidiopsis are divided into 4 distinct morphological groups based on the presence or absence of spines on the oral sucker, the distribution of the vitellaria and the anterior extent of the uterus. The subfamily Caiguiriinae is emended to include those species with an unarmed oral sucker and vitelline follicles that reach the level of the acetabulum anteriorly, and C. anterouteria is redescribed based on existing museum specimens consistent with the holotype specimen. The genus Caiguiria is emended to include species where the vitelline follicles reach the level of the acetabulum anteriorly but do not extensively invade the postesticular space. Pygidiopsis crassus is assigned to Caiguiria as Caiguiria crassa n. comb., and the subfamily Pygidiopsinae is emended to include those species where the vitelline follicles extend from the level of the acetabulum posteriorly in to the posttesticular space and where the uterus is confined to the hindbody. The validity of Pygidiopsis pelecani and Pygidiopsis piclaumoreli is discussed.

The history of Prajnaparamita, Goddess of Wisdom, a twelfth-century Indian Buddhist sculpture in the National Gallery of Australia collection, has been researched and evaluated through a dedicated Asian Art Provenance Project. This article describes how the sculpture was traced from twelfth-century Odisha, India, to museums in Depression-era Brooklyn and Philadelphia, through dealers and private collectors Earl and Irene Morse, to Canberra, Australia, where it has been since 1990. Frieda Hauswirth Das (1886–1974), previously obscured from art-collecting records, is revealed as the private collector who purchased the sculpture in India in around 1930. Incidental discoveries are then documented, extending the published provenance of objects in museum collections in the United States and Europe. Finally, consideration is given to the sculpture’s changing legal and ethical position, and the collecting rationales of its various collectors. The case study illustrates the contributions provenance research can make to archeological, art-historical, and collections knowledge, and elucidates aspects of the heterodox twentieth-century Asian art trade, as well as concomitant shifts in collecting ethics.

The article presents an archivistics review of documents on Russian displaced persons, their internment and subsequent repatriation after end of World War II, which were deposited in the National Archive of the Principality of Liechtenstein (Liechtenstein Landesarchiv). In the fond of the Government of Liechtenstein from the National Archive of the Principality of Liechtenstein, there are some few documents on displaced persons of the Second World War; some shed light on the stay of the detachment of B. A. Smyslovsky on the territory of the principality in 1945–47. A group of 494 Russian servicemen led by B. A. Smyslovsky crossed the Liechtenstein border near Schellenberg overnight into May 3, 1945. Later, 290 voluntarily returned to the USSR. The fate of those internees who remained in Liechtenstein was decided in 1947. B. A. Smyslovsky obtained permission to enter Argentina, about 100 former servicemen of the 1st RNA moved to Argentina with him. Some few army officers and soldiers were able to leave for European countries, primarily, France. The last servicemen of the B. A. Smyslovsky’s detachment left the principality in October 1947. In general, documents from the National Archive of the Principality of Liechtenstein are quite informative and useful for researchers of the history of post-war displaced persons. However, they need to be checked. In addition, researchers can refer to the documents of the personal provenance fond of the rector of the Intercession Church in Zurich, archpriest David Chubov, which is kept in the Museum of Russian Culture in San Francisco in the United States. The fond contains archpriest David Chubov’s correspondence with servicemen interned in Liechtenstein, his correspondence with the government of the principality, Protopresbyter Konstantin Izraztsov, the Argentine Consulate in Switzerland, and charitable organizations discussing legal paperwork for entry into Argentina. Since 2003, the documents have become available for Russian researchers in the State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF) in form of microfilms. The documents of the Museum of Russian Culture in San Francisco were acquired by the GARF in 2002-03. In 2003, they formed a separate collection “Microfilm Collection of the Museum of Russian Culture in San Francisco. 1948-2000.”

In this publication, an overview of the American-Ukrainian collection of scientific articles and materials «Sharing America’s Story With Ukraine: The Voice of America’s Ukrainian Service, 1949–2019», presented in Ukraine and the United States is carried out. Collection, prepared on the initiative of the Department of Modern and Contemporary History of Foreign Countries of Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv, of the Ukrainian Museum-Archive in Cleveland and the Ukrainian Association of American Studies, dedicated to the 70th anniversary of Ukrainian Service «Voice of America». It first reviewed the history of the Ukrainian service «Voice of America» from the appearance of until now. Attention is accentuated in the most important milestones and aspects of its activities, in particular in the conditions of ideological and information struggle of the USA and the USSR in the Cold War, coverage of independent Ukraine, its socio-political transformations and revolutionary events of the modern time, the contribution of Ukrainian service «Voice of America» in the formation of Ukrainian democratic media, etc. Also the collection included general research on the history of service, an overview of the context of its work and research on several directors. Particularly valuable are the memoirs of Adrian Karmazyn about his almost 30-years work for the «Voice of America» and a number of documents of Soviet special services associated with Western radio voices. Articles included in the collection prepared primarily on the basis of unique documents on personal archives, as well as the Sectocal state archive of the Security Service of Ukraine, memoirs of participants in fateful events, the most significant video materials and publications placed on the official website of the Ukrainian service «Voice of America». The importance of the appearance of such publications, and in particular this collection certifies attention to it and positive reviews of Ukrainian and American scientists, media, representatives of the Ukrainian diaspora in the United States. As well as the spread of a collection on authoritative websites, for example, in one of the largest resources of the Ukrainian diaspora «Diasporiana.org.ua». And although the collection of articles and materials «Sharing America’s Story With Ukraine: The Voice of America’s Ukrainian Service, 1949-2019» came out quite voluminous, many aspects of the history of the Ukrainian «Voice of America» remained unproven and need further research. Thus, the publication should be considered as a peculiar foundation for a further purposeful comprehensive study of the history of the Ukrainian service «Voice of America», published in it articles and materials, undoubtedly will be useful to the next researchers. The presentation of the collection took place on February 12, 2020 at the Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv on the basis of the Department of New and Contemporary History of Foreign Countries. Members of the author’s team, teachers and students – аmericanists of historical faculty, correspondents of «Voice of America» took part in it, as well as in video conference – one of the compilers and editors of the collection Adrian Karmazyn from Washington and the director of the Ukrainian Archive-Museum in Cleveland Andriy Fedynskiy. During the discussion about the role and place of «Voice of America» in the Ukrainian and world information space, the presentation participants emphasized the relevance and prospects of further research of the history of its Ukrainian service.

With the continuous evolution of permitting regulations the Department of Botany at the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH) in Washington D.C., invited an agent from the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service (APHIS) to discuss requirements for obtaining import permits for plant specimens. This meeting lead to the planning of restructuring existing procedures, workflows and modifications to the physical workspaces within our facilities. It also prompted the collection management staff to be well versed in the current regulations. APHIS requires individuals applying for a permit to submit a Standard Operational Procedure document (SOP) of their facilities. The APHIS agent will review the sterile entry procedures in the SOP and determine if the facility qualifies. Before we drafted our final SOP, we researched SOPs from other APHIS compliant herbaria. Most of the facilities at NMNH, constructed in 1910 and 1965, predates climate control and pest management best practice standards. After meeting with the APHIS agent, we reevaluated our packing and unpacking procedures. It was apparent that the frontline to combat pests should be as close to the shipping office entry point as possible. The ideal room is our drying room located next to the shipping office. Other room renovations where specimen processing occurs will be discussed in detail. PowerPoint is a major tool that helped with the visualization of the renovations. However, modifying and renovating spaces within the museum is not an easy feat because of the large scale coordinating efforts within the institution. Beyond the physical changes, there has been unexpected changes as to the role of collection staff in the permitting process. The APHIS requirements have created new challenges. Collection management staff are now sources of information about what collectors need to know before applying for a permit. Collection staff must also know about the various tools available for answering collectors’ questions, such as being well versed in the USDA Phytosanitary export database (PExD). Overall, new restrictions and guild lines create unexpected changes for the overall form and function of collection management.

The Invertebrate Paleontology Collection at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County (NHMLA) has received support from the United States National Science Foundation (NSF DBI 1702342) to digitize the museum’s unique and historic collection of 28,000+ fossil insects. The primary goal of this project, “Fossil Insects of L.A.”, is to increase access to these collections for both research and education. Key collections to be become discoverable through iDigBio and iDigPaleo include the Georg Statz Collection (Oligocene, Rott Formation, Germany) and three faunas from Southern California: Barstow (Miocene), Rancho La Brea (Pleistocene), and McKittrick (Pleistocene). Fossil Insects of L.A. constitutes the final contribution to the Fossil Insect Collaborative Thematic Collections Network (TCN), a consortium of institutions that have been digitizing the largest fossil insect collections in the United States. As a project beginning at the tail-end of the TCN’s active funding, Fossil Insects of L.A. is actively leveraging existing TCN knowledge and resources to streamline workflows and efficiently achieve project goals. In addition to basing imaging and preservation protocols on those designed by TCN partners, Fossil Insects of L.A. is using a layered approach to provide high-quality taxonomic information without sacrificing the pace of specimen digitization. Previously unidentified specimens are initially identified only to Order, allowing them to quickly continue through the digitization process; specimens can then be re-examined by experienced project participants and external experts, who are able to reference the specimen images generated during digitization. A critical and novel aspect of this component of the project’s workflow is the concurrent digitization of the literature associated with the Statz Collection. These data will be used as a test case for the "Enhancing Paleontological and Neontological Data Discovery API" (ePANDDA) project (NSF ICER 1821039), which seeks to associate related datasets found in iDigBio, iDigPaleo, and the Paleobiology Database. Fossil Insects of L.A. will digitize and make 10,960 specimens publically available online, of which over 6,200 will include images. An additional 15,684 specimen records from the Rancho La Brea Tar Pits will also be included in the data mobilization. In doing so, Fossil Insects of L.A. intends to dramatically enhance the research potential of these formerly hidden collections, as well as synthesize and demonstrate digitization best practices generated through the TCN.

Abstract:This article traces the provenance and migration of a painting by Jan van Goyen (1595–1656), River Landscape with a Swineherd, from the Jacques Goudstikker Collection and now in Gdańsk Muzeum Narodowe. After the “red-flag sale” of the Goudstikker Collection in July 1940 to German banker Alois Miedl, and then to Hermann Göring, this painting—after its sale on Berlin’s Lange Auction in December 1940 to Hitler’s agent Almas-Dietrich—was returned to Miedl-Goudstikker in Amsterdam. Miedl then sold it (with two other Dutch paintings) to the Nazi Gauleiter of Danzig, Albert Forster, among many wartime Dutch acquisitions for the Municipal Museum (Stadtmuseum). Evacuated to Thuringia and captured by a Soviet trophy brigade, it thus avoided postwar Dutch claims. Returned to Poland from the Hermitage in 1956, it was exhibited in the Netherlands and the United States (despite its Goudstikker label). Tracing its wartime and postwar odyssey highlights the transparent provenance research needed for Nazi-era acquisitions, especially in former National Socialist (NS) Germanized museums in countries such as Poland, where viable claims procedures for Holocaust victims and heirs are still lacking. This example of many “missing” Dutch paintings sold to NS-era German museums in cities that became part of postwar Poland, raises several important issues deserving attention in provenance research for still-displaced Nazi-looted art.

Diversity, distribution patterns and hotspots of the irregular equinoids (Echinoidea: Irregularia) of Mexico.Irregular echinoids can be found in almost all marine habitats, from the polar to the equatorial regions, and from the intertidal zone to great depths; some species have a cosmopolitan distribution, but most are geographically restricted, and all live in very particular habitats to a greater or lesser degree in Mexico has 153 species distributed within the coastal limits. Geographic barriers (terrestrial barriers and large ocean basins) and ocean current patterns act as primary modulators of the distribution of echinoids; however, there are factors that define the local distribution. The purpose of this work is to analyze the diversity of irregular echinoids in Mexico, as well as to explain the patterns of distribution and to explore the hotspots through panbiogeography as units of high richness. The study area covers all the territorial waters of Mexico in the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic and Caribbean Sea. To obtain the geographical coordinates we used the distribution data of 68 species of irregular echinoids recorded at different depths. We reviewed the specimens deposited in five scientific collections, in addition to the revision of other records from online databases: 1. National Collection of Echinoderms “Ma. Elena Caso Muñoz” of the Instituto de Ciencias del Mar y Limnología (ICML), of the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM); 2. Regional Collection of Invertebrates of the Academic Unit Mazatlán, ICML, UNAM. 3. Invertebrate Zoology Collection, Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, Washington, D.C., United States of America, (USA); 4. Invertebrate Collection, Museum of Comparative Zoology, University of Harvard, Boston, Massachusetts; 5. Invertebrate Zoology, Peabody Museum, Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut; National Information System on Biodiversity (SNIB-CONABIO) and Global Biodiversity Information (GBIF). The generalized tracks were performed by the analysis of endemicity based on the optimization method, using the NDM/VNDM program with a 2° x 2° latitude/longitude grid. Hotspots were obtained by overlapping the generalized tracks using the ArcView program. The best represented was family Brissidae, with 15 species, most of them belonging to the genus Brissopsis, followed by the family Mellitidae (with 12 species), half of them belongs to the genus Encope. The families of irregular sea urchins with a smaller number of species were: Echinoneidae, Plexechinidae, Palaeotropidae and Paleopneustidae, each represented by a single species. The following general patterns of distribution were recognized: 1) groups of widely distributed species and 2) restricted species living in the first few meters of depth (0-20m). Nine consensus areas or generalized tracks were obtained in the Endemicity Analysis and 47 hotspots were recognized. Three areas with high specific wealth were obtained: West Coast of the Gulf of Mexico, Bank of Campeche/Mexican Caribbean and Gulf of California. The Gulf of California area has the highest diversity of irregular echinoids. This is the first approximation in the study of the panbiogeography of echinoderms of Mexico. Rev. Biol. Trop. 65(Suppl. 1): S42-S59. Epub 2017 November 01.

Species of Baculites are important marker fossils in the Upper Cretaceous rocks of the Western Interior of the United States and provide indices for 20 of the 29 Campanian and Maastrichtian zones recognized by Cobban (in Gill and Cobban, 1966; Cobban, 1977). They often occur in rock-forming proportions (Gill and Cobban, 1966, Pl. 11, fig. 3) and are common up through the lower Maastrichtian Baculites clinolobatus zone. In the type area of the Fox Hills Formation in west-central South Dakota, B. clinolobatus is present in the lower part of the Mobridge Member of the Pierre Shale, but Baculites are rare or absent in the rest of the member as well as in the overlying Elk Butte Member that forms the uppermost part of the Pierre Shale (Waage, 1968, p. 50, 51, fig. 6). Only the diminutive Baculites columna Morton, 1834, has been noted from the succeeding Fox Hills Formation (Waage, 1968). The highest marine Cretaceous rocks of the Western Interior are characterized instead by Sphenodiscus and a range of scaphitid species (Hoploscaphites, Discoscaphites). It is therefore of some interest to describe, for the first time, the baculitids from the very high Cretaceous of the Western Interior. The material described below was collected from the Fox Hills Formation by N. L. Larson, P. L. Larson, and R. A. Farrar of the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, Hill City, South Dakota. We are grateful to them for allowing us to describe this interesting collection. Specimens cited below are deposited in the collections of the Black Hills Institute (BHI) and in the U.S. National Museum of Natural History (USNM) in Washington, D.C.

The artist Moisey Fradkin (1904–1974) was a bright talented person in a brilliant galaxy of Ukrainian artists of the late 1920s – mid 1930s. He was a direct participant in the process of forming a special national “face” of graphic art. His works, which were exhibited at numerous foreign exhibitions in Europe and the United States, were noted as “strong and magical.” However, the further Fradkin’s creative destiny was not triumphant – after a very bright surge of original talent, his art was muted in the Procrustean bed of the Stalinist ideology, from about the end of the 1930s to the 1960s. He did not lose his skills, but only at the end of his life, full of wise experience, Fradkin again acquired bright energy and youthful enthusiasm in his work. Fradkin was a widely educated person, he taught at the Kharkiv Art Institute, was an active illustrator, author of easel compositions and graphic miniatures-exlibrises, worked in the field of industrial graphics for many years, headed the section of decorative and applied arts of the Kharkiv Club of Exlibrisists, collected a huge library. He and his wife, H. Krieger put together a unique collection of paintings, graphics and decorative and applied arts (more than 4000 items), which was later inherited by the Kharkiv Art Museum. The museum’s archives contain scattered sheets with fragments of Fradkin’s memoirs about his years of study at the Kharkiv Art College-Institute, which emotionally describe the time of the rapid reform of art education, which was full of contradictions. The article is based on these, not completely deciphered notes, and on the personal memoirs of the author of the article, who was familiar with the artist in the last four years of his life.

Abstract Background It is very forward-looking and urgent to clarify the academic status. The evolution and development trend in the field of international museum display design reveals the theme development and Path Evolution of museum display design academia in the face of the development trend of audience psychological experience under the trend of global academic research on museum display design from collection centered to audience centered. At the same time, the curatorial design of the museum will also affect the emotional changes of the audience. Research Objects and Methods The relevant academic documents from 1990 to 2020 in the science network database were selected as the data basis. Based on the scientific measurement method and with the help of information visualization CiteSpace software, this paper makes a quantitative map analysis of academic papers in the field of museum display design. Two dimensions of locus of control scale were used as measurement indicators. The so-called psychological locus of control refers to people's general view of the outcome of behavior or events. One pole of this continuous spectrum is internality and the other pole is externality. The internality of locus of control (internal control) refers to people's belief that they are responsible for the results of things, that is, personal behavior, personality and ability are the determinants of things. The externality of locus of control refers to people's belief that the outcome of an event is mainly affected by external factors, such as luck, social background and others. The preparation process of the scale can be seen in Rotter's special report. The version introduced here contains 23 items and 6 insertion questions. Each item is a group of internal control statements and external control statements. The subjects are required to choose one from them and score the external control selection, with the score ranging from 0 (extreme internal control) to 23 (extreme external control). The scale is a self-rated scale, which is completed within 15 minutes. It is most commonly used for college students and other groups. From several studies that have been done, we can see that the norm of I-E scale is different. Owens (1966) reported that male = 8 2 (SD = 4.0) female = 8.5 (SD = 3.9) Parkes (1985) reported male (n = 146) x = 11.5 6 (SD = 3.3) female (n = 260) x = 12.6 (SD = 3.7). Results (1) In the past 30 years, the number of papers published in this field has increased significantly compared with 2005 and 2015; (2) The United States, Britain, Italy and China are the main sources of contribution, which generally presents the characteristics of “large concentration and small dispersion”; (3) Formed a group of cooperative teams with a certain sense of cooperation; (4) The topics of papers published in the academic field of museum display design are becoming richer and richer, and the research perspectives are becoming more and more diverse, with a total of about 4000 keywords, showing a good development trend of interdisciplinary integration and “clustering”; (5) From the perspective of evolutionary path, the focus of academic research in this field has experienced the transformation of “theoretical method” → “interactive experience” → “participation service”, and the relevant research objects have also experienced the change of “exhibits” → (6) the research has initially formed two directions of knowledge flow, of which the more important is the influence of sociology represented by psychology on the academic research of exhibition design, which has important relevance and relevance. At the same time, our results show that although curatorial design is positively correlated with audience emotion, it is not statistically significant (P > 0.05). Among the audience's emotional changes, positive emotions dominated, and the results were statistically significant (P < 0.01). This means that positive emotion can be used as an indicator to measure the change of audience emotion. Our results show that the quality of exhibits is negatively correlated with positive emotions. The Pearson correlation of negative emotions was significantly greater than that of positive emotions. This shows that the audience with high appreciation level is more likely to cause emotional changes than the students with low appreciation level. Independent sample t-test confirmed that there was significant difference in positive emotion between the two groups (P < 0.01), but there was no significant difference in promoting emotion (P > 0.05). Conclusion The research focus is no longer the accessibility of the museum or the relevance of the exhibits, but the psychological needs of the audience, such as participation experience, culture and education and leisure and entertainment. Therefore, the research on audience orientation and psychological experience has become an important topic and core content of academic research on museum display design. However, CiteSpace application software has some limitations, which makes it unable to grasp the structure of a discipline or knowledge field more comprehensively and deeply. However, in general, this study has enlightenment significance for the subsequent academic research innovation of the development and Path Evolution of the discipline of exhibition design in international museums. In short, we should give full play to the important role of irrational factors in design elements, actively pay attention to their psychological, emotional and behavioral changes, their abilities and response measures, pay attention to the impact of exhibition design and emotional changes, and be good builders, managers, coordinators and collaborators of design methods. According to the psychological characteristics of this part of the audience, we should actively and flexibly organize rich activities, create high-quality and rich curatorial level, observe and study this part of the audience, adjust their emotional state to the best state, and promote the healthy development of their good cognition and life. Acknowledgements This paper is an outcome of the project “Digital archive, creative platform and global communication of the Chinese intangible cultural heritage” (No.19ZDA336) supported by the National Social Science Foundation of China, the project “Application research of interaction design in the field of cultural heritage display and communication” (No. 20BG127) supported by National Social Science Foundation of China art Project, the project “Knowledge organization and service for cultural heritage” (No. 20215080008) supported by Independent research project of Tsinghua University, and the project “Winter Olympics Olympic Digital Museum Presentation and Communication Technology Research and Application Demonstration” (No. 2021YFF0307700).

A fungus was isolated consistently from dead shoot tips and flag leaves of Arundo donax L. (Poaceae) in France, Crete, Cyprus, Italy, Morocco, and Spain from April of 2003 through September of 2005. The fungus was identified as Nigrospora oryzae (Berk. & Br.) Petch (teleomorph Khuskia oryzae) on the basis of morphological characteristics (1). The mean diameter of 80 conidia obtained from sporulating plant specimens collected in France, Crete, and Cyprus were 14, 15, and 15 μm, respectively. The mean diameters of 25 conidiogenous cells and conidiophores were 7 and 4 μm, respectively. Identification was confirmed by comparing the sequence of the ribosomal DNA internal transcribed spacer 1 and 4 regions from the French isolate (GenBank Accession No. DQ219433) with the sequence of a voucher specimen from the Museum National d'Histoire Naturelle, Paris, France. The isolate of N. oryzae from France was deposited at the CBS collection in Utrecht, the Netherlands (CBS 113884). N. oryzae is known to be a weak pathogen on a wide range of plants but has not been reported on A. donax, which is now a well-established weed in the United States and North America, probably originating from the Mediterranean Region. Herein, the possible use of N. oryzae as a biological control agent was investigated. Twenty young A. donax shoots growing in the greenhouse and 20 emerging canes in the field were selected on the basis of uniformity in size. A spore suspension in distilled water adjusted to 5 × 105 conidia/ml of the French isolate was prepared and 0.5 ml was injected with a syringe just below the growing point of the flag leaf in onehalf of the greenhouse and field plants. The remaining plants were injected with 0.5 ml of distilled water as controls. Infection and death of the flag leaf occurred in 30% of the shoots in the greenhouse and 50% of the canes in the field 21 days from inoculation. No disease developed on the control plants. Greenhouse inoculation tests were repeated once. N. oryzae was reisolated from dead leaves and the terminal node of inoculated shoots, satisfying Koch's postulate. Attempts made to induce disease symptoms by applying spore suspensions on the whorl of leaves surrounding the apical tip failed. This is an indication that an insect vector may be needed to carry and deposit N. oryzae spores into the tight, whorled flag leaf for infection and disease development to occur. To our knowledge, this is the first report of foliar and cane rot of A. donax caused by N. oryzae. References: (1) K. H. Domsch et al. Page 515 in: Compendium of Soil Fungi. IHW-Verlag, Eching, Germany, 1993.

This overview of the Luciolinae addresses the fauna of S. E. Asia including India, Sri Lanka, China, Japan, Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia, the Philippines, the Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia, and the Australopacific area of Australia, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, New Caledonia, Vanuatu and Fiji.Of the 28 genera now recognised in the Luciolinae we address 27 genera from the study area as defined above, including three new genera which are described herein, and 222 species including 13 species newly described herein. Photuroluciola Pic from Madagascar is the only Luciolinae genus not addressed here. A key to genera is presented. Keys to species are either included here or referenced in existing literature. Twelve genera have had no new taxonomic decisions made nor are any new species records listed, and are addressed in an abbreviated fashion, with short diagnoses and plates of features of life stages: Aquatica Fu et al. 2010, Australoluciola Ballantyne 2013, Convexa Ballantyne 2009, Emeia Fu et al. 2012a, Inflata Boontop 2015, Lloydiella Ballantyne 2009, Missimia Ballantyne 2009, Pteroptyx Olivier 1902, Pyrophanes Olivier 1885, Sclerotia Ballantyne 2016, Triangulara Pimpasalee 2016, and Trisinuata Ballantyne 2013. Abscondita Ballantyne 2013 contains 8 species, and includes new records for Abs. anceyi (Olivier 1883), Abs. chinensis (L.) (which is newly synonymised with Luciola succincta Bourgeois), Abs. terminalis (Olivier 1883) including a first record from both Laos and Thailand, and Abs. perplexa (Walker 1858). Luciola pallescens Gorham 1880 is transferred to Abscondita and the pronotal colour range is addressed from a wide range of localities. Abs. berembun Nada sp. nov. and Abs. jerangau Nada sp. nov. are described from Malaysia. Hooked bursa plates are described for pallescens and berembun. Aquilonia Ballantyne 2009 is expanded to include 3 species. Gilvainsula Ballantyne 2009, represented by two species from the south eastern coast of New Guinea is synonymised under Aquilonia Ballantyne 2009, which is briefly redescribed and keyed from: Aquil. costata (Lea) from northern Australia, including many new records, Aquil. messoria (Ballantyne) comb. nov. and Aquil. similismessoria (Ballantyne) comb. nov. Asymmetricata Ballantyne 2009 now includes 4 species. As. bicoloripes (Pic 1927) comb. nov. and As. humeralis (Walker 1858) comb. nov. are transferred from Luciola, with L. doriae Olivier 1885, L. impressa Olivier 1910b and L. notatipennis Olivier 1909a newly synonymised with As. humeralis. Luciola aemula Olivier 1891 is synonymised with As. ovalis (Hope 1831). The variation in the extent of the anterior median emargination of the light organ in ventrite 7, and the possibility of a bipartite light organ in males of As. circumdata (Motsch. 1854) is explored. Females of both As. circumdata and As. ovalis (Hope 1831) are without bursa plates and the distinctively shaped median oviduct plate in each is described. Records from Thailand are recorded for both As. circumdata and As. ovalis. Atyphella Olliff 1890 now contains 28 species with 4 transferred from other genera, and one new species: Aty. abdominalis (Olivier 1886) comb. nov. and Aty. striata (Fabricius 1801) comb. nov. are transferred from Luciola, with Aty. carolinae Olivier 1911b and Aty. rennellia (Ballantyne 2009) comb. nov. transferred from Magnalata Ballantyne 2009. Atyphella telokdalam Ballantyne sp. nov. from Indonesia is described herein. Atyphella is now known from records in the Philippines and Indonesia as well as Australia and New Guinea. Colophotia Motschulsky 1853 is considered here from seven species for which intact types can be located for three. An abbreviated revision based on the United States National Museum collection only is presented, with specimens of C. bakeri Pic 1924, C. brevis Olivier 1903a, C. plagiata (Erichson 1834) and C. praeusta (Eschscholtz 1822) redescribed, using where possible features of males, females and larvae. Colophotia particulariventris Pic 1938 is newly synonymised with C. praeusta. Colophotia miranda Olivier 1886 and L. truncata Olivier 1886 are treated as species incertae sedis. Curtos Motschulsky 1845 includes 19 species with suggestions made, but not yet formalised, for the possible transfer of the following seven species from Luciola: Luciola complanata Gorham 1895, L. costata Pic 1929, L. delauneyi Bourgeois 1890, L. deplanata Pic 1929, L. extricans Walker 1858, L. multicostulata Pic 1927 and L. nigripes Gorham 1903. Curtos is not revised here. Emarginata Ballantyne gen nov. is described for E. trilucida (Jeng et al. 2003b) comb. nov., transferred from Luciola and characterised by the emarginated elytral apex. An extended range of specimens from Thailand is listed. Kuantana Ballantyne gen. nov. from Selangor, Malaysia is described from K. menayah gen. et sp. nov. having bipartite light organs in ventrite 7 and an asymmetrical tergite 8 which is not emarginated on its left side. Female has no bursa plates. Luciola Laporte 1833 s. stricto as defined by a population of the type species Luciola italica (L. 1767) from Pisa, Italy, is further expanded and considered to comprise the following19 species: L. antipodum (Bourgeois 1884), L. aquilaclara Ballantyne 2013, L. chapaensis Pic 1923 which is synonymised with L. atripes Pic 1929, L. curtithorax Pic 1928, L. filiformis Olivier 1913c, L. horni Bourgeois 1905, L. hypocrita Olivier 1888, L. italica (L. 1767), L. kagiana Matsumura 1928, L. oculofissa Ballantyne 2013, L. pallidipes Pic 1928 which is synonymised with L. fletcheri Pic 1935, L. parvula Kiesenwetter 1874, L. satoi Jeng & Yang 2003, L. tuberculata Yiu 2017, and two species treated as near L. laticollis Gorham 1883, and near L. nicollieri Bugnion 1922. The following are described as new: L. niah Jusoh sp. nov., L. jengai Nada sp. nov. and L. tiomana Ballantyne sp. nov. Luciola niah sp. nov. female has two wide bursa plates on each side of the bursa. Luciola s. lato (as defined here) consists of 36 species. Twenty-seven species formerly standing under Luciola have been assigned to other genera or synonymised. Seven species are recommended for transfer to Curtos, and 32 species now stand under species incertae sedis. Magnalata Ballantyne is reduced to the type species M. limbata and redescribed. Medeopteryx Ballantyne 2013 is expanded to 20 species with the addition of two new combinations, Med. semimarginata (Olivier 1883) comb. nov. and Med. timida (Olivier 1883) comb. nov., both transferred from Luciola, and one new species, Med. fraseri Nada sp. nov. from Malaysia. The range of this genus now extends from Australia and the island of New Guinea to SE Asia. Medeopteryx semimarginata females have wide paired bursa plates. Pygoluciola Wittmer 1939 now includes 19 species with 5 new species: P. bangladeshi Ballantyne sp. nov., P. dunguna Nada 2018, P. matalangao Ballantyne sp. nov. (scored by the code name ‘Jeng Matalanga’ in Ballantyne & Lambkin 2013), P. phupan Ballantyne sp. nov. and P. tamarat Jusoh sp. nov. Six species are transferred from Luciola: P. abscondita (Olivier 1891) comb. nov., P. ambita (Olivier 1896) comb. nov., P. calceata (Olivier 1905) comb. nov., P. insularis (Olivier 1883) comb. nov., P. nitescens (Olivier 1903b) comb. nov. and P. vitalisi (Pic 1934) comb. nov., and redescribed from males, and includes female reproductive anatomy for P. nitescens comb. nov. and P. dunguna, both of which have hooked bursa plates. Serratia Ballantyne gen. nov. is erected for S. subuyania gen. et sp. nov. and characterised by the serrate nature of certain antennal flagellar segments in the male. The following 37 species listed under species incertae sedis are further explored: Colophotia miranda Olivier 1886, Lampyris serraticornis Boisduval 1835, Luciola angusticollis Olivier 1886, L. antennalis Bourgeois 1905, L. antica (Boisduval 1835), L. apicalis (Eschscholtz 1822), L. aurantiaca Pic 1927, L. bicoloriceps Pic 1924, L. binhana Pic 1927, L. bourgeoisi Olivier 1895, L. dilatata Pic 1929, L. exigua (Gyllenhall 1817), L. exstincta Olivier 1886, L. fissicollis Fairmaire 1891, L. flava Pic 1929, L. flavescens (Boisduval 1835), L. fukiensis Pic 1955, L. immarginata Bourgeois 1890, L. incerta (Boisduval 1835), L. infuscata (Erichson 1834), L. intricata (Walker 1858), L. japonica (Thunberg 1784), L. klapperichi Pic 1955, L. lata Olivier 1883, L. limbalis Fairmaire 1889, L. marginipennis (Boisduval 1835), L. melancholica Olivier 1913a, L. robusticeps Pic 1928, L. ruficollis (Boisduval 1835), L. spectralis Gorham 1880, L. stigmaticollis Fairmaire 1887, L. tincticollis Gorham 1895, L. trivandrensis Raj 1947, L. truncata Olivier 1886, L. vittata (Laporte 1833) Pteroptyx atripennis Pic 1923 and P. curticollis Pic 1923. While phylogenetic analyses indicate their distinctiveness, no further taxonomic action is taken with Luciola cruciata Motschulsky 1854 and L. owadai Sâtô et Kimura 1994 from Japan given the importance of the former as a national icon. Analyses also indicate that Lampyroidea syriaca Costa 1875 belongs in Luciola s. str. A much wider taxonomic analysis of this genus including all the species is necessary before any further action can be taken.

As the national design collection of the United States, Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum in New York City is dedicated to historical and contemporary design with a collection of over 215,000 objects. Since its founding in 1897 as the Cooper Union Museum for the Arts of Decoration, its collection departments have been defined taxonomically by materials. In 2022, the museum created a new collecting department for the first time in its history, acknowledging that Digital collections represent a separate “material.” The introduction of a Digital department stakes a claim that digital design is itself a separate discipline with its own needs of collections management, curation, and conservation. Digital design as both process and product is now pervasive throughout design fields and the collection will continue to grow as the museum strives to represent contemporary design practice. While the museum’s early digital collecting came from a lineage of graphic design and typography, this article discusses the challenges inherent in developing new taxonomies, typologies, classifications, and collections management and preservation processes.

Details the career of Marvette Perez (1961–2013), the first Latina curator at the National Museum of American History. Essay emphasizes her curatorial accomplishments, focusing on her collecting practices including some of the larger and smaller acquisitions that she added to the national collections of the Smithsonian Institution. Large collections discussed include the Teodoro Collection of Puerto Rican History, the Goya Foods Inc. Collection, and the Celia Cruz Collection. Smaller collections mentioned include the Diosa Costello Collection, the Tito Puente Collection, the Mongo Santamaria Collection, and a collection of panos from New Mexico. Archival collections are also referenced such as the Clotilde Arias Collection, Latin Jazz Oral History Program, and the Puerto Rican Division of Community Education. Also mentioned is the prior history of Hispanic collecting in the museum conducted by curator Richard Ahlborn which focused on Spanish settlements in the southwestern United States.

Traditional histories of forensic anthropology focus on key figures, events, and/or publications within a larger narrative of disciplinary formation and expansion. These histories typically highlight individuals such as Thomas Dwight or institutions such as the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History. This project represents an interdisciplinary collaboration with the goal of shedding new light onto the origins of forensic anthropology in the United States. By pulling from a number of published scholarly sources, as well as some unpublished correspondence, this project expands upon the more established historical events concerning the history of forensic anthropology. Here we argue that the origins of contemporary forensic anthropology not only trace back to the work of Wilton Krogman but that Krogman’s forensic anthropology must be understood through the life and work of his mentor, T. Wingate Todd, as well as the Hamann-Todd Collection, early efforts toward personal identification of human skeletal remains, and a complex amalgamation of US and UK influences that Krogman was exposed to through Todd’s mentorship efforts.

Treehopper insect populations (Hemiptera: Membracidae) were surveyed in 2018 in Benton, Josephine, and Yamhill Counties, Oregon to determine their potential roles in the epidemiology of Grapevine red blotch virus. Stictocephala basalis and Tortistilus albidosparsus were identified through a taxonomic assessment of samples collected by hand near vineyards and in a natural area. Historical presence of Spissistilus festinus in the Willamette Valley is discussed. Voucher specimens were deposited in the Oregon State Arthropod Collection and at the United States National Museum of Natural History.

The United States Patent Office maintains an archive of cultural artifacts of both ornamental and functional designs. Design patents protect “any new, original, and ornamental design for an article of manufacture” [23] such as busts, statues, and the shape or configuration of any article of manufacture. The Patent Office archive originally contained both drawings and models as an effort to preserve a chronological history of the science and culture of the United States. This collection was devastated by two fires in 1836 and 1877 which destroyed or damaged more than 100,000 patent models. The Patent Office began divesting its collection in 1908 and Congress ultimately chose to dissolve the collection in 1926. 10,000 of the original models are preserved in the collections of the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C., and another 5,000 are preserved in the collections of the Hagley Museum and Library in Wilmington, Delaware. While most of the physical artifacts no longer exist, documents describing the original physical models remain. These documents show each artifact as a collection of multiple black and white images depicting the artifact from different views. We propose an algorithm to reconstruct 3D point cloud models of the original artifacts from multiview images collected directly from the Patent Office archives. The use of 3D point cloud models allows both local and global geometric properties of the artifact to be described in a single vector representation. This vector representation of the artifact may be used individually or in combination with other descriptors for retrieval and classification tasks. For collections that are unclassified or where differing classification systems are used, these vector representations allow clustering of artifacts into meaningful groupings.

In April 2020, the National Nordic Museum (NNM) in Seattle launched an oral history initiative titled “A Pandemic Preserved: The COVID-19 Crisis in the Nordic Countries and the Pacific Northwest.” Utilizing the video conferencing platform Zoom, the NNM has collected the stories of individuals impacted by the coronavirus in Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Washington state, the first reported epicenter in the United States. Augmenting an existing collection of more than 900 oral history interviews, “A Pandemic Preserved” privileges current perspectives of ongoing events over retrospection. With the consent of the participants, the recordings are made accessible to researchers through the Museum’s collection management system (CMS), as well as promoted periodically to a general audience through social media channels to foster online engagement during closure. This article will examine the project’s scope, execution, products, dissemination to academic and general audiences, and relation to the NNM’s existing oral history collection. It will also consider how a project that captures response to a global health crisis realizes the Museum’s collecting goals in comparative and area studies.

On June 18, 2022, the National Museum of the American Latino (NMAL) debuted the Molina Family Latino Gallery (MFLG), the Museum’s first exhibition space. Inside the National Museum of American History (NMAH), the Gallery opened ¡Presente! A Latino History of the United States, an exhibition affirming NMAL’s credo that Latino history is U.S. history. In the 4,500 ft2 Gallery, objects on loan from six Smithsonian (SI) units and over 50 external lenders are on display in large wall cases and highlight “nooks.” Despite all objects being behind large glass doors, visitors can engage with multi-sensory interactives, digital interfaces, and the 500 ft2 General Motors Learning Lounge. One nook highlights a ceramic Tree of Life by Veronica Castillo on a rotating base. The QR codes throughout the Gallery allow visitors to explore the Museum’s online presence, including a 3D-scan of Castillo’s piece. Even with efforts for broader accessibility, the Gallery still faces unexpected challenges when considering exhibit access and safety. This article explores MFLG from many angles and the balance between collection care and interactivity. From environmental monitors to enthusiastic visitors, ¡Presente! demonstrates the challenges that museums face and serves as a platform to prepare for the new National Museum of the American Latino.

AbstractBiodiversity loss amplifies the need for taxonomic understanding at global, regional, and local scales. The United Nations Environmental Programme Sustainable Development Goals are explicit in their demand for greater accountability with respect to ecosystem management, and Sustainable Development Goal 15, Life on Land, specifically calls for a halt to biodiversity loss. Pollinators (bees and butterflies) are two functional groups with public attention for protection, yet little long-term data availability. National Parks, including those in the United States, act as optimal sites to study biodiversity loss, but historic data tends to vary in availability. This study addresses systematic taxonomic and digitalization biases present within historic (museum), modern (citizen science), and non-digitized (private collection) datasets for Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks from 1900 to 2021. We find that, although database record availability is representative of butterfly and bumble bee groups known for the area, categories such as data rescue, digitalization/availability, and management/archiving vary across database types. These findings on virtual datasets offer opportunities for conservationists to understand the efficacy of digitized collections in addressing questions of species loss over time, including the strengths and pitfalls of digitized data repositories. Additionally, virtual datasets can be utilized to monitor biodiversity under Sustainable Development Goal 15 targets while also promoting broader access to resources such as museum collections for educational purposes.

The Specify Collections Consortium ("SCC") is a member-funded organization currently comprised of 70 biodiversity collection institutions--universities, research centers, and government agencies from around the globe. In 2018, the SCC was created as a follow-on to the Specify Software Project that had a 20-year history as a US NSF grant funded biological collections software engineering and technical support project. Founding members of the Consortium include the National Natural History Museum of Denmark, and in the United States, the Universities of Florida, Michigan, and Kansas. The SCC plans to build on its open-source collections computing platforms to bring research analysis and integration to the collections curation environment. The inclusion and integration of genetic data standards, Nagoya Protocol business rules, and biogeographical analysis in Specify platforms will extend museum digitization and cataloging to engage collections in broader computational communities, for increased research, educational, and policy impact. Significant investments by the South African National Biodiversity Institute, the Natural History Museum of Geneva, and regional collections in additional countries are contributing to the Consortium's growth and financial sustainability. Code contributions from Consortium members have supplemented their financial commitments to produce capabilities that immediately benefit all members. We will present an update on the Specify Consortium's progress during its first 1.5 years, and outline its near- and long-term priorities for collections community engagement and technological innovation.

The early documented marine microalgae from the Philippines were done between 1853–1925. A total of 801 taxa were identified and distributed into three phyla, i.e. the Cyanobacteria, the Rhodophyta, and the Bacillariophyta. About 99% of these taxa belong to the Bacillariophyta. Of the 797 total diatom taxa identified by early scientists, there are only 281 species that are accepted as current valid names based on AlgaeBase and DiatomBase. These accepted diatom taxa belong to 63 genera. The three genera with the greatest number of species in decreasing order are Amphora (46), Biddulphia (29), and Campylodiscus (16). Out of the 797 diatom species, 190 species have the Philippines as the type locality and these specimens are deposited in the United States (US) – specifically, at the Farlow Herbarium and in the US National Museum in Washington, DC and in London, England at the Diatom section of the British Museum of Natural History. All these algal materials were part of the collection of four different naval scientific exploring expeditions that visited the Philippines in 1842–1910 – namely, the US Exploring (Wilkes) Expedition (1842), the HMS Challenger (1874–1875), the Italian Cruiser Vettor Pisani (1884), and the USS Albatross (1907–1910). The greatest number of microalgae collected was 743 by USS Albatross, followed in decreasing order by HMS Challenger (57), US Exploring Expedition (17), and Vettor Pisani (1). These early collections of marine microalgae provided invaluable contributions in laying the groundwork for the development of Philippine phycology.

Woven straw work produced in the Caribbean in the early twentieth century represented a small but sustainable percentage of the region's exports. Following the US occupation in Haiti (1915–1934), handicrafts were promoted as economic ‘development’: commodified folklore fashioned for the delight of visiting tourists. Up until 1946 in Curaçao, as a strategy of the Catholic church's civilising mission, young women trained to plait the so-called ‘Panama hat’ at technical schools (Römer, 1977); the products of their labour were often exhibited at international expositions and exported for sale in Europe and the United States. This article argues that missionary education that claimed to modernise, industrialise and revalue local handicraft skills to the benefit of local populations in Haiti and the Dutch Caribbean has instead perpetuated colonial gendered and racialised divisions of labour that prepare and discipline students for factory work in the global textile industries. I use straw artefacts and photographs from the collection of the Dutch National Museum of World Cultures as a starting point to trace the entanglements between imperial education and ethnographic exhibitions as sites of gender production. Drawing on Jean Casimir's concept of contre-plantation (2001), I explore how histories of indigenous craft knowledge during specific periods of resistance in Haiti have nurtured disidentification with a gendered logic of labour exploitation and racial capitalism.

The debate on the social role of museums trundles along in an age where complex associations between community, collections, and cultural norms are highly contested (Silverman 3–4; Sandell, Inequality 3–23). This article questions whether, in the case of community groups whose aspirations often go unrecognised (in this case people with either blindness or low vision), there is a need to discuss and debate institutionalised approaches that often reinforce social exclusion and impede cultural access. If “access is [indeed] an entry point to experience” (Papalia), then the privileging of visual encounters in museums is clearly a barrier for people who experience sight loss or low vision (Levent and Pursley). In contrast, a multisensory aesthetic to exhibition display respects the gamut of human sensory experience (Dudley 161–63; Drobnick 268–69; Feld 184; James 136; McGlone 41–60) as do discursive gateways including “lectures, symposia, workshops, educational programs, audio guides, and websites” (Cachia). Independent access to information extends beyond Braille on toilet doors.Underpinning this article is an ongoing qualitative case study undertaken by the author involving participant observation, workshops, and interviews with eight adults who experience vision impairment. The primary research site has been the National Museum of Australia. Reflecting on the role of curators as storytellers and the historical development of museums and their practitioners as agents for social development, the article explores the opportunities latent in museum collections as they relate to community members with vision impairment. The outcomes of this investigation offer insights into emerging issues as they relate to the International Council of Museums (ICOM) definitions of the museum program. Curators as Storytellers“The ways in which objects are selected, put together, and written or spoken about have political effects” (Eilean Hooper-Greenhill qtd. in Sandell, Inequality 8). Curators can therefore open or close doors to discrete communities of people. The traditional role of curators has been to collect, care for, research, and interpret collections (Desvallées and Mairesse 68): they are characterised as information specialists with a penchant for research (Belcher 78). While commonly possessing an intimate knowledge of their institution’s collection, their mode of knowledge production results from a culturally mediated process which ensures that resulting products, such as cultural significance assessments and provenance determinations (Russell and Winkworth), privilege the knowing systems of dominant social groups (Fleming 213). Such ways of seeing can obstruct the access prospects of underserved audiences.When it comes to exhibition display—arguably the most public of work by museums—curators conventionally collaborate within a constellation of other practitioners (Belcher 78–79). Curators liaise with museum directors, converse with conservators, negotiate with exhibition designers, consult with graphics designers, confer with marketing boffins, seek advice from security, chat with editors, and engage with external contractors. I question the extent that curators engage with community groups who may harbour aspirations to participate in the exhibition experience—a sticking point soon to be addressed. Despite the team based ethos of exhibition design, it is nonetheless the content knowledge of curators on public display. The art of curatorial interpretation sets out not to instruct audiences but, in part, to provoke a response with narratives designed to reveal meanings and relationships (Freeman Tilden qtd. in Alexander and Alexander 258). Recognised within the institution as experts (Sandell, Inclusion 53), curators have agency—they decide upon the stories told. In a recent television campaign by the National Museum of Australia, a voiceover announces: a storyteller holds incredible power to connect and to heal, because stories bring us together (emphasis added). (National Museum of Australia 2015)Storytelling in the space of the museum often shares the histories, perspectives, and experiences of people past as well as living cultures—and these stories are situated in space and time. If that physical space is not fit-for-purpose—that is, it does not accommodate an individual’s physical, intellectual, psychiatric, sensory, or neurological needs (Disability Discrimination Act 1992, Cwlth)—then the story reaches only long-established patrons. The museum’s opportunity to contribute to social development, and thus the curator’s as the primary storyteller, will have been missed. A Latin-American PerspectiveICOM’s commitment to social development could be interpreted merely as a pledge to make use of collections to benefit the public through scholarship, learning, and pleasure (ICOM 15). If this interpretation is accepted, however, then any museum’s contribution to social development is somewhat paltry. To accept such a limited and limiting role for museums is to overlook the historical efforts by advocates to change the very nature of museums. The ascendancy of the social potential of museums first blossomed during the late 1960s at a time where, globally, overlapping social movements espoused civil rights and the recognition of minority groups (Silverman 12; de Varine 3). Simultaneously but independently, neighbourhood museums arose in the United States, ecomuseums in France and Quebec, and the integral museum in Latin America, notably in Mexico (Hauenschild; Silverman 12–13). The Latin-American commitment to the ideals of the integral museum developed out of the 1972 round table of Santiago, Chile, sponsored by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Giménez-Cassina 25–26). The Latin-American signatories urged the local and regional museums of their respective countries to collaborate with their communities to resolve issues of social inequality (Round Table Santiago 13–21). The influence of Brazilian educator Paulo Freire should be acknowledged. In 1970, Freire ushered in the concept of conscientization, defined by Catherine Campbell and Sandra Jovchelovitch as:the process whereby critical thinking develops … [and results in a] … thinker [who] feels empowered to think and to act on the conditions that shape her living. (259–260)This model for empowerment lent inspiration to the ideals of the Santiago signatories in realising their sociopolitical goal of the integral museum (Assunção dos Santos 20). Reframing the museum as an institution in the service of society, the champions of the integral museum sought to redefine the thinking and practices of museums and their practitioners (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization 37–39). The signatories successfully lobbied ICOM to introduce an explicitly social purpose to the work of museums (Assunção dos Santos 6). In 1974, in the wake of the Santiago round table, ICOM modified their definition of a museum to “a permanent non-profit institution, open to the public, in the service of society and its development” (emphasis added) (Hauenschild). Museums had been transformed into “problem solvers” (Judite Primo qtd. in Giménez-Cassina 26). With that spirit in mind, museum practitioners, including curators, can develop opportunities for reciprocity with the many faces of the public (Guarini). Response to Social Development InitiativesStarting in the 1970s, the “second museum revolution” (van Mensch 6–7) saw the transition away from: traditional roles of museums [of] collecting, conservation, curatorship, research and communication … [and toward the] … potential role of museums in society, in education and cultural action. (van Mensch 6–7)Arguably, this potential remains a work in progress some 50 years later. Writing in the tradition of museums as agents of social development, Mariana Lamas states:when we talk about “in the service of society and its development”, it’s quite different. It is like the drunk uncle at the Christmas party that the family pretends is not there, because if they pretend long enough, he might pass out on the couch. (Lamas 47–48)That is not to say that museums have neglected to initiate services and programs that acknowledge the aspirations of people with disabilities (refer to Cachia and Krantz as examples). Without discounting such efforts, but with the refreshing analogy of the drunken uncle still fresh in memory, Lamas answers her own rhetorical question:how can traditional museums promote community development? At first the word “development” may seem too much for the museum to do, but there are several ways a museum can promote community development. (Lamas 52) Legitimising CommunitiesThe first way that museums can foster community or social development is to:help the community to over come [sic] a problem, coming up with different solutions, putting things into a new perspective; providing confidence to the community and legitimizing it. (Lamas 52)As a response, my doctoral investigation legitimises the right of people with vision impairment to participate in the social and cultural aspects of publicly funded museums. The Australian Government upheld this right in 2008 by ratifying the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (and Optional Protocol), which enshrines the right of people with disability to participate in the cultural life of the nation (United Nations).At least 840,700 people in Australia (a minimum of four per cent of the population) experiences either blindness or low vision (Australian Bureau of Statistics 2009). For every one person in the Australian community who is blind, nearly five other people experience low vision. The medical model of disability identifies the impairment as the key feature of a person and seeks out a corrective intervention. In contrast, the social model of disability strives to remove the attitudinal, social, and physical barriers enacted by people or institutions (Landman, Fishburn, and Tonkin 14). Therein lies the opportunity and challenge for museums—modifying layouts and practices that privilege the visual. Consequently, there is scope for museums to partner with people with vision impairment to identify their aspirations rather than respond as a problem to be fixed. Common fixes in the museums for people with disabilities include physical alterations such as ramps and, less often, special tours (Cachia). I posit that curators, as co-creators and major contributors to exhibitions, can be part of a far wider discussion. In the course of doctoral research, I accompanied adults with a wide array of sight impairments into exhibitions at the Museum of Australian Democracy at Old Parliament House, the Australian War Memorial, and the National Museum of Australia. Within the space of the exhibition, the most commonly identified barrier has been the omission of access opportunities to interpreted materials: that is, information about objects on display as well as the wider narratives driving exhibitions. Often, the participant has had to work backwards, from the object itself, to understand the wider topic of the exhibition. If aesthetics is “the way we communicate through the senses” (Thrift 291), then the vast majority of exhibits have been inaccessible from a sensory perspective. For people with low vision (that is, they retain some degree of functioning sight), objects’ labels have often been too small to be read or, at times, poorly contrasted or positioned. Objects have often been set too deep into display cabinets or too far behind safety barriers. If individuals must use personal magnifiers to read text or look in vain at objects, then that is an indicator that there are issues with exhibition design. For people who experience blindness (that is, they cannot see), neither the vast majority of exhibits nor their interpretations have been made accessible. There has been minimal access across all museums to accessioned objects, handling collections, or replicas to tease out exhibits and their stories. Object labels must be read by family or friends—a tiring experience. Without motivated peers, the stories told by curators are silenced by a dearth of alternative options.Rather than presume to know what works for people with disabilities, my research ethos respects the “nothing about us without us” (Charlton 2000; Werner 1997) maxim of disability advocates. To paraphrase Lamas, we have collaborated to come up with different solutions by putting things into new perspectives. In turn, “person-centred” practices based on rapport, warmth, and respect (Arigho 206–07) provide confidence to a diverse community of people by legitimising their right to participate in the museum space. Incentivising Communities Museums can also nurture social or community development by providing incentives to “the community to take action to improve its quality of life” (Lamas 52). It typically falls to (enthusiastic) public education and community outreach teams to engage underserved communities through targeted programs. This approach continues the trend of curators as advocates for the collection, and educators as advocates for the public (Kaitavouri xi). If the exhibition briefs normally written by curators (Belcher 83) reinforced the importance of access, then exhibition designers would be compelled to offer fit-for-purpose solutions. Better still, if curators (and other exhibition team members) regularly met with community based organisations (perhaps in the form of a disability reference group), then museums would be better positioned to accommodate a wider spectrum of community members. The National Standards for Australian Museums and Galleries already encourages museums to collaborate with disability organisations (40). Such initiatives offer a way forward for improving a community’s sense of itself and its quality of life. The World Health Organization defines health as a “state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity”. While I am not using quality of life indicators for my doctoral study, the value of facilitating social and cultural opportunities for my target audience is evident in participant statements. At the conclusion of one sensory based workshop, Mara, a female participant who experiences low vision in one eye and blindness in the other, stated:I think it was interesting in that we could talk together about what we were experiencing and that really is the social aspect of it. I mean if I was left to go to a whole lot of museums on my own, I probably wouldn’t. You know, I like going with kids or a friend visiting from interstate—that sort of thing. And so this group, in a way, replicates that experience in that you’ve got someone else to talk about your impressions with—much better than going on your own or doing this alone.Mara’s statement was in response to one of two workshops I held with the support of the Learning Services team at the National Museum of Australia in May 2015. Selected objects from the museum’s accessioned collection and handling collection were explored, as well as replicas in the form of 3D printed objects. For example, participants gazed upon and handled a tuckerbox, smelt and tasted macadamia nuts in wattle seed syrup, and listened to a genesis story about the more-ish nut recorded by the Butchulla people—the traditional owners of Fraser Island. We sat around a table while I, as the workshop mediator, sought to facilitate free-flowing discussions about their experiences and, in turn, mused on the capacity of objects to spark social connection and opportunities for cultural access. While the workshop provided the opportunity for reciprocal exchanges amongst participants as well as between participants and me, what was highly valued by most participants was the direct contact with members of the museum’s Learning Services team. I observed that participants welcomed the opportunity to talk with real museum workers. Their experience of museum practitioners, to date, had been largely confined to the welcome desk of respective institutions or through special events or tours where they were talked at. The opportunity to communicate directly with the museum allowed some participants to share their thoughts and feelings about the services that museums provide. I suggest that curators open themselves up to such exchanges on a more frequent basis—it may result in reciprocal benefits for all stakeholders. Fortifying IdentityA third way museums can contribute to social or community development is by:fortify[ing] the bonds between the members of the community and reaffirm their identities making them feel more secure about who they are; and give them a chance to tell their own version of their history to “outsiders” which empowers them. (Lamas 52)Identity informs us and others of who we are and where we belong in the world (Silverman 54). However, the process of identity marking and making can be fraught: “some communities are ours by choice … [and] … some are ours because of the ways that others see us” (Watson 4). Communities are formed by identifying who is in and who is out (Francois Dubet qtd. in Bessant and Watts 260). In other words, the construction of collective identity is reinforced through means of social inclusion and social exclusion. The participants of my study, as members or clients of the Royal Society for the Blind | Canberra Blind Society, clearly value participating in events with empathetic peers. People with vision impairment are not a homogenous group, however. Reinforcing the cultural influences on the formation of identity, Fiona Candlin asserts that “to state the obvious but often ignored fact, blind people … [come] … from all social classes, all cultural, racial, religious and educational backgrounds” (101). Irrespective of whether blindness or low vision arises congenitally, adventitiously, or through unexpected illness, injury, or trauma, the end result is an assortment of individuals with differing perceptual characteristics who construct meaning in often divergent ways (De Coster and Loots 326–34). They also hold differing world views. Therefore, “participation [at the museum] is not an end in itself. It is a means for creating a better world” (Assunção dos Santos 9). According to the Australian Human Rights Commissioner, Professor Gillian Triggs, a better world is: a society for all, in which every individual has an active role to play. Such a society is based on fundamental values of equity, equality, social justice, and human rights and freedoms, as well as on the principles of tolerance and embracing diversity. (Triggs)Publicly funded museums can play a fundamental role in the cultural lives of societies. For example, the Powerhouse Museum (Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences) in Sydney partnered with Vision Australia to host an exhibition in 2010 titled Living in a Sensory World: it offered “visitors an understanding of the world of the blindness and low vision community and celebrates their achievements” (Powerhouse Museum). With similar intent, my doctoral research seeks to validate the world of my participants by inviting museums to appreciate their aspirations as a distinct but diverse community of people. ConclusionIn conclusion, the challenge for museum curators and other museum practitioners is balancing what Richard Sennett (qtd. in Bessant and Watts 265) identifies as opportunities for enhancing social cohesion and a sense of belonging while mitigating parochialism and community divisiveness. Therefore, curators, as the primary focus of this article, are indeed challenged when asked to contribute to serving the public through social development—a public which is anything but homogenous. Mindful of cultural and social differences in an ever-changing world, museums are called to respect the cultural and natural heritage of the communities they serve and collaborate with (ICOM 10). It is a position I wholeheartedly support. This is not to say that museums or indeed curators are capable of solving the ills of society. However, inviting people who are frequently excluded from social and cultural events to multisensory encounters with museum collections acknowledges their cultural rights. I suggest that this would be a seismic shift from the current experiences of adults with blindness or low vision at most museums.ReferencesAlexander, Edward, and Mary Alexander. Museums in Motion: An Introduction to the History and Functions of Museums. 2nd ed. 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The global onset of the COVID-19 pandemic began in January 2020. In February, many academic and research institutions began to move to a telework environment. By March, many borders had been closed and nearly all institutions fully transitioned to telework. With their institutions closed and travel shut down, researchers lacked access to both specimen collections as well as the library and archives material needed to continue productive research. Preliminary research on the impact of COVID-19 on the research enterprise has been published. In the United States, the impact on federally funded research has been documented in Effects of COVID-19 on the Federal Research and Development Enterprise (Morgan and Sargent Jr. 2020). Likewise, What Happens to the Continuity and Future of the Research Enterprise? (Coalition for Networked Information 2020) is an initial appraisal of issues and concerns within the North American academic and research environment. Library and archives staff were limited in their access to collections-based work and needed valuable and impactful telework. The Biodiversity Heritage Library (BHL) was founded as a global, dispersed, and virtual library and thus was well-suited to continue to provide service to teleworking researchers as well as telework tasks for staff at BHL's partner institutions. Examples of the telework projects include enhancing BHL metadata, and uploading BHL illustrations to the BHL Flickr collection. BHL makes critical information available thanks to all of the partners' efforts to digitize for open access. The natural strengths of the BHL virtual organization include social distancing, virtual collaboration and opening up science; the pandemic world is a natural ecosystem for BHL partners. Initial analyses of BHL use have shown a significant increase in year-over-year usage of BHL content. The preliminary statistics have shown an approximate 25% increase in usage of the BHL site. BHL has also collected anecdotal evidence in the form of user comments and direct conversations with research staff at BHL partner institutions. Many national or pan-national organizations and projects were instigated to examine the impact of COVID-19 on library and archives materials. One key project that some BHL partners participated in is Reopening Archives, Libraries, and Museums (REALM) Information Hub: A COVID-19 Research Project. With most BHL partners pausing all digitization around the February-March 2020 time period, outcomes from studies such as REALM will assist partners in understanding when it will be safe for digitization to restart. This presentation will cover how usage of BHL changed from early 2020 to the present, showing trends and significant impact. The pivot of many BHL partner staff to improve BHL content and metadata for their local users as well as the global biodiversity community will be documented. Also covered will be the enhanced impact of digital libraries, such as BHL, in both the short and long terms along with lessons learned for expanded virtual open access for library collections supporting biodiversity and museum research.

IntroductionThe debate about the responsibility of museums to respect Indigenous peoples’ rights (Kelly and Gordon; Butts) has caught our attention on the basis of our previous research experience with regard to the protection of the tangible and intangible heritage of the San (former hunter gatherers) in Southern Africa (Martin and Vermeylen; Vermeylen, Contextualising; Vermeylen, Life Force; Vermeylen et al.; Vermeylen, Land Rights). This paper contributes to the critical debate about curatorial practices and the recovery of Indigenous peoples’ cultural practices and explores how museums can be transformed into cultural centres that “decolonise” their objects while simultaneously providing social agency to marginalised groups such as the San. Indigenous MuseumTraditional methods of displaying Indigenous heritage are now regarded with deep suspicion and resentment by Indigenous peoples (Simpson). A number of related issues such as the appropriation, ownership and repatriation of culture together with the treatment of sensitive and sacred materials and the stereotyping of Indigenous peoples’ identity (Carter; Simpson) have been identified as the main problems in the debate about museum curatorship and Indigenous heritage. The poignant question remains whether the concept of a classical museum—in the sense of how it continues to classify, value and display non-Western artworks—will ever be able to provide agency to Indigenous peoples as long as “their lives are reduced to an abstract set of largely arbitrary material items displayed without much sense of meaning” (Stanley 3). Indeed, as Salvador has argued, no matter how much Indigenous peoples have been involved in the planning and implementation of an exhibition, some issues remain problematic. First, there is the problem of representation: who speaks for the group; who should make decisions and under what circumstances; when is it acceptable for “outsiders” to be involved? Furthermore, Salvador raises another area of contestation and that is the issue of intention. As we agree with Salvador, no matter how good the intention to include Indigenous peoples in the curatorial practices, the fact that Indigenous peoples may have a (political) perspective about the exhibition that differs from the ideological foundation of the museum enterprise, is, indeed, a challenge that must not be overlooked in the discussion of the inclusive museum. This relates to, arguably, one of the most important challenges in respect to the concept of an Indigenous museum: how to present the past and present without creating an essentialising “Other”? As Stanley summarises, the modernising agenda of the museum, including those museums that claim to be Indigenous museums, continues to be heavily embedded in the belief that traditional cultural beliefs, practices and material manifestations must be saved. In other words, exhibitions focusing on Indigenous peoples fail to show them as dynamic, living cultures (Simpson). This raises the issue that museums recreate the past (Sepúlveda dos Santos) while Indigenous peoples’ interests can be best described “in terms of contemporaneity” (Bolton qtd. in Stanley 7). According to Bolton, Indigenous peoples’ interest in museums can be best understood in terms of using these (historical) collections and institutions to address contemporary issues. Or, as Sepúlveda dos Santos argues, in order for museums to be a true place of memory—or indeed a true place of recovery—it is important that the museum makes the link between the past and contemporary issues or to use its objects in such a way that these objects emphasize “the persistence of lived experiences transmitted through generations” (29). Under pressure from Indigenous rights movements, the major aim of some museums is now reconciliation with Indigenous peoples which, ultimately, should result in the return of the cultural objects to the originators of these objects (Kelly and Gordon). Using the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990 (NAGPRA) as an illustration, we argue that the whole debate of returning or recovering Indigenous peoples’ cultural objects to the original source is still embedded in a discourse that emphasises the mummified aspect of these materials. As Harding argues, NAGPRA is provoking an image of “native Americans as mere passive recipients of their cultural identity, beholden to their ancestors and the museum community for the re-creation of their cultures” (137) when it defines cultural patrimony as objects having ongoing historical, traditional or cultural importance, central to the Native American group or culture itself. According to Harding (2005) NAGPRA’s dominating narrative focuses on the loss, alienation and cultural genocide of the objects as long as these are not returned to their originators. The recovery or the return of the objects to their “original” culture has been applauded as one of the most liberating and emancipatory events in recent years for Indigenous peoples. However, as we have argued elsewhere, the process of recovery needs to do more than just smother the object in its past; recovery can only happen when heritage or tradition is connected to the experience of everyday life. One way of achieving this is to move away from the objectification of Indigenous peoples’ cultures. ObjectificationIn our exploratory enquiry about new museum practices our attention was drawn to a recent debate about ownership and personhood within the context of museology (Busse; Baker; Herle; Bell; Geismar). Busse, in particular, makes the point that in order to reformulate curatorial practices it is important to redefine the concept and meaning of objects. While the above authors do not question the importance of the objects, they all argue that the real importance does not lie in the objects themselves but in the way these objects embody the physical manifestation of social relations. The whole idea that objects matter because they have agency and efficacy, and as such become a kind of person, draws upon recent anthropological theorising by Gell and Strathern. Furthermore, we have not only been inspired by Gell’s and Strathern’s approaches that suggests that objects are social persons, we have also been influenced by Appadurai’s and Kopytoff’s defining of objects as biographical agents and therefore valued because of the associations they have acquired throughout time. We argue that by framing objects in a social network throughout its lifecycle we can avoid the recurrent pitfalls of essentialising objects in terms of their “primitive” or “traditional” (aesthetic) qualities and mystifying the identity of Indigenous peoples as “noble savages.” Focusing more on the social network that surrounds a particular object opens up new avenues of enquiry as to how, and to what extent, museums can become more inclusive vis-à-vis Indigenous peoples. It allows moving beyond the current discourse that approaches the history of the (ethnographic) museum from only one dominant perspective. By tracing an artwork throughout its lifecycle a new metaphor can be discovered; one that shows that Indigenous peoples have not always been victims, but maybe more importantly it allows us to show a more complex narrative of the object itself. It gives us the space to counterweight some of the discourses that have steeped Indigenous artworks in a “postcolonial” framework of sacredness and mythical meaning. This is not to argue that it is not important to be reminded of the dangers of appropriating other cultures’ heritage, but we would argue that it is equally important to show that approaching a story from a one-sided perspective will create a dualism (Bush) and reducing the differences between different cultures to a dualistic opposition fails to recognise the fundamental areas of agency (Morphy). In order for museums to enliven and engage with objects, they must become institutions that emphasise a relational approach towards displaying and curating objects. In the next part of this paper we will explore to what extent an online museum could progressively facilitate the process of providing agency to the social relations that link objects, persons, environments and memories. As Solanilla argues, what has been described as cybermuseology may further transform the museum landscape and provide an opportunity to challenge some of the problems identified above (e.g. essentialising practices). Or to quote the museologist Langlais: “The communication and interaction possibilities offered by the Web to layer information and to allow exploration of multiple meanings are only starting to be exploited. In this context, cybermuseology is known as a practice that is knowledge-driven rather than object-driven, and its main goal is to disseminate knowledge using the interaction possibilities of Information Communication Technologies” (Langlais qtd. in Solanilla 108). One thing which shows promise and merits further exploration is the idea of transforming the act of exhibiting ethnographic objects accompanied by texts and graphics into an act of cyber discourse that allows Indigenous peoples through their own voices and gestures to involve us in their own history. This is particularly the case since Indigenous peoples are using technologies, such as the Internet, as a new medium through which they can recuperate their histories, land rights, knowledge and cultural heritage (Zimmerman et al.). As such, new technology has played a significant role in the contestation and formation of Indigenous peoples’ current identity by creating new social and political spaces through visual and narrative cultural praxis (Ginsburg).Online MuseumsIt has been acknowledged for some time that a presence on the Web might mitigate the effects of what has been described as the “unassailable voice” in the recovery process undertaken by museums (Walsh 77). However, a museum’s online engagement with an Indigenous culture may have significance beyond undercutting the univocal authority of a museum. In the case of the South African National Gallery it was charged with challenging the extent to which it represents entrenched but unacceptable political ideologies. Online museums may provide opportunities in the conservation and dissemination of “life stories” that give an account of an Indigenous culture as it is experienced (Solanilla 105). We argue that in engaging with Indigenous cultural heritage a distinction needs to be drawn between data and the cognitive capacity to learn, “which enables us to extrapolate and learn new knowledge” (Langlois 74). The problem is that access to data about an Indigenous culture does not necessarily lead to an understanding of its knowledge. It has been argued that cybermuseology loses the essential interpersonal element that needs to be present if intangible heritage is understood as “the process of making sense that is generally transmitted orally and through face-to-face experience” (Langlois 78). We agree that the online museum does not enable a reality to be reproduced (Langlois 78).This does not mean that cybermuseology should be dismissed. Instead it provides the opportunity to construct a valuable, but completely new, experience of cultural knowledge (Langlois 78). The technology employed in cybermuseology provides the means by which control over meaning may, at least to some extent, be dispersed (Langlois 78). In this way online museums provide the opportunity for Indigenous peoples to challenge being subjected to manipulation by one authoritative museological voice. One of the ways this may be achieved is through interactivity by enabling the use of social tagging and folksonomy (Solanilla 110; Trant 2). In these processes keywords (tags) are supplied and shared by visitors as a means of accessing museum content. These tags in turn give rise to a classification system (folksonomy). In the context of an online museum engaging with an Indigenous culture we have reservations about the undifferentiated interactivity on the part of all visitors. This issue may be investigated further by examining how interactivity relates to communication. Arguably, an online museum is engaged in communicating Indigenous cultural heritage because it helps to keep it alive and pass it on to others (Langlois 77). However, enabling all visitors to structure online access to that culture may be detrimental to the communication of knowledge that might otherwise occur. The narratives by which Indigenous cultures, rather than visitors, order access to information about their cultures may lead to the communication of important knowledge. An illustration of the potential of this approach is the work Sharon Daniel has been involved with, which enables communities to “produce knowledge and interpret their own experience using media and information technologies” (Daniel, Palabras) partly by means of generating folksonomies. One way in which such issues may be engaged with in the context of online museums is through the argument that database and narrative in such new media objects are opposed to each other (Manovich, New Media 225). A new media work such as an online museum may be understood to be comprised of a database and an interface to that database. A visitor to an online museum may only move through the content of the database by following those paths that have been enabled by those who created the museum (Manovich, New Media 227). In short it is by means of the interface provided to the viewer that the content of the database is structured into a narrative (Manovich, New Media: 226). It is possible to understand online museums as constructions in which narrative and database aspects are emphasized to varying degrees for users. There are a variety of museum projects in which the importance of the interface in creating a narrative interface has been acknowledged. Goldblum et al. describe three examples of websites in which interfaces may be understood as, and explicitly designed for, carrying meaning as well as enabling interactivity: Life after the Holocaust; Ripples of Genocide; and Yearbook 2006.As with these examples, we suggest that it is important there be an explicit engagement with the significance of interface(s) for online museums about Indigenous peoples. The means by which visitors access content is important not only for the way in which visitors interact with material, but also as to what is communicated about, culture. It has been suggested that the curator’s role should be moved away from expertly representing knowledge toward that of assisting people outside the museum to make “authored statements” within it (Bennett 11). In this regard it seems to us that involvement of Indigenous peoples with the construction of the interface(s) to online museums is of considerable significance. Pieterse suggests that ethnographic museums should be guided by a process of self-representation by the “others” portrayed (Pieterse 133). Moreover it should not be forgotten that, because of the separation of content and interface, it is possible to have access to a database of material through more than one interface (Manovich, New Media 226-7). Online museums provide a means by which the artificial homogenization of Indigenous peoples may be challenged.We regard an important potential benefit of an online museum as the replacement of accessing material through the “unassailable voice” with the multiplicity of Indigenous voices. A number of ways to do this are suggested by a variety of new media artworks, including those that employ a database to rearrange information to reveal underlying cultural positions (Paul 100). Paul discusses the work of, amongst others, George Legrady. She describes how it engages with the archive and database as sites that record culture (104-6). Paul specifically discusses Legrady’s work Slippery Traces. This involved viewers navigating through more than 240 postcards. Viewers of work were invited to “first chose one of three quotes appearing on the screen, each of which embodies a different perspective—anthropological, colonialist, or media theory—and thus provides an interpretive angle for the experience of the projects” (104-5). In the same way visitors to an online museum could be provided with a choice of possible Indigenous voices by which its collection might be experienced. We are specifically interested in the implications that such approaches have for the way in which online museums could engage with film. Inspired by Basu’s work on reframing ethnographic film, we see the online museum as providing the possibility of a platform to experiment with new media art in order to expose the meta-narrative(s) about the politics of film making. As Basu argues, in order to provoke a feeling of involvement with the viewer, it is important that the viewer becomes aware “of the plurality of alternative readings/navigations that they might have made” (105). As Weinbren has observed, where a fixed narrative pathway has been constructed by a film, digital technology provides a particularly effective means to challenge it. It would be possible to reveal the way in which dominant political interests regarding Indigenous cultures have been asserted, such as for example in the popular film The Gods Must Be Crazy. New media art once again provides some interesting examples of the way ideology, that might otherwise remain unclear, may be exposed. Paul describes the example of Jennifer and Kevin McCoy’s project How I learned. The work restructures a television series Kung Fu by employing “categories such as ‘how I learned about blocking punches,’ ‘how I learned about exploiting workers,’ or ‘how I learned to love the land’” (Paul 103) to reveal in greater clarity, than otherwise might be possible, the cultural stereotypes used in the visual narratives of the program (Paul 102-4). We suggest that such examples suggest the ways in which online museums could work to reveal and explore the existence not only of meta-narratives expressed by museums as a whole, but also the means by which they are realised within existing items held in museum collections.ConclusionWe argue that the agency for such reflective moments between the San, who have been repeatedly misrepresented or underrepresented in exhibitions and films, and multiple audiences, may be enabled through the generation of multiple narratives within online museums. We would like to make the point that, first and foremost, the theory of representation must be fully understood and acknowledged in order to determine whether, and how, modes of online curating are censorious. As such we see online museums having the potential to play a significant role in illuminating for both the San and multiple audiences the way that any form of representation or displaying restricts the meanings that may be recovered about Indigenous peoples. ReferencesAppadurai, Arjun. The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1986. Bal, Mieke. “Exhibition as Film.” Exhibition Experiments. Ed. Sharon Macdonald and Paul Basu. Malden: Blackwell Publishing 2007. 71-93. Basu, Paul. “Reframing Ethnographic Film.” Rethinking Documentary. Eds. Thomas Austin and Wilma de Jong. Maidenhead: Open U P, 2008. 94-106.Barringer, Tim, and Tom Flynn. Colonialism and the Object: Empire, Material Culture and the Museum. London: Routledge, 1998. 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Material samples form an important portion of the data infrastructure for many disciplines. Here, a material sample is a physical object, representative of some physical thing, on which observations can be made. Material samples may be collected for one project initially, but can also be valuable resources for other studies in other disciplines. Collecting and curating material samples can be a costly process. Integrating institutionally managed sample collections, along with those sitting in individual offices or labs, is necessary to faciliate large-scale evidence-based scientific research. Many have recognized the problems and are working to make data related to material samples FAIR: findable, accessible, interoperable, and reusable. The Internet of Samples (i.e., iSamples) is one of these projects. iSamples was funded by the United States National Science Foundation in 2020 with the following aims: enable previously impossible connections between diverse and disparate sample-based observations; support existing research programs and facilities that collect and manage diverse sample types; facilitate new interdisciplinary collaborations; and provide an efficient solution for FAIR samples, avoiding duplicate efforts in different domains (Davies et al. 2021) enable previously impossible connections between diverse and disparate sample-based observations; support existing research programs and facilities that collect and manage diverse sample types; facilitate new interdisciplinary collaborations; and provide an efficient solution for FAIR samples, avoiding duplicate efforts in different domains (Davies et al. 2021) The initial sample collections that will make up the internet of samples include those from the System for Earth Sample Registration (SESAR), Open Context, the Genomic Observatories Meta-Database (GEOME), and Smithsonian Institution Museum of Natural History (NMNH), representing the disciplines of geoscience, archaeology/anthropology, and biology. To achieve these aims, the proposed iSamples infrastructure (Fig. 1) has two key components: iSamples in a Box (iSB) and iSamples Central (iSC). The iSC component will be a permanent Internet service that preserves, indexes, and provides access to sample metadata aggregated from iSBs. It will also ensure that persistent identifiers and sample descriptions assigned and used by individual iSBs are synchronized with the records in iSC and with identifier authorities like International Geo Sample Number (IGSN) or Archival Resource Key (ARK). The iSBs create and maintain identifiers and metadata for their respective collection of samples. While providing access to the samples held locally, an iSB also allows iSC to harvest its metadata records. The metadata modeling strategy adopted by the iSamples project is a metadata profile-based approach, where core metadata fields that are applicable to all samples, form the core metadata schema for iSamples. Each individual participating collectionis free to include additional metadata in their records, which will also be harvested by iSC and are discoverable through the iSC user interface or APIs (Application Programming Interfaces), just like the core. In-depth analysis of metadata profiles used by participating collections, including Darwin Core, has resulted in an iSamples core schema currently being tested and refined through use. See the current version of the iSamples core schema. A number of properties require a controlled vocabulary. Controlled vocabularies used by existing records are kept, while new vocabularies are also being developed to support high-level grouping with consistent semantics across collection types. Examples include vocabularies for Context Category, Material Category, and Specimen Type (Table 1). These vocabularies were also developed in a bottom-up manner, based on the terms used in the existing collections. For each vocabulary, a decision tree graph was created to illustrate relations among the terms, and a card sorting exercise was conducted within the project team to collect feedback. Domain experts are invited to take part in this exercise here, here, and here. These terms will be used as upper-level terms to the existing category terms used in the participating collections and hence create connections among individual participating collections. iSample project members are also active in the TDWG Material Sample Task Group and the global consultation on Digital Extended Specimens. Many members of the iSamples project also lead or participate in a sister research coordination network (RCN), Sampling Nature. The goal of this RCN is to develop and refine metadata standards and controlled vocabularies for the iSamples and other projects focusing on material samples. We cordially invite you to participate in the Sampling Nature RCN and help shape the future standards for material samples. Contact Sarah Ramdeen (sramdeen@ideo.columbia.edu) to engage with the RCN.

This study provided an understanding of feeding habit and intensity of the mudskipper Periophthalmodon septemradiatus, which was a potential aquarium pet, by analyzing the relative gut length (RGL) andgastro-somatic (GaSI) indexes. Fish specimens were caught by fishing rods from the estuary in Soc Trang province to the upstream in An Giang province of Hau River during a period of one year from August 2017 to July 2018. Data analysis of a collection of 1,504 fishes showed that RGL did not change with fish size, resulting in the feeding habit of P. septemradiatus did not change with fish size. By contrast, the feeding habit of this mudskipper varied with place, month and season as the RGL significantly different between place, month and season, but both males and females fall into carnivorous fish as RGL was <1. Similarly, the feeding intensity of this specice did not change with fish size, as the GaSI was not significantly different among four fish size groups. Meanwhile, the mudskipper displayed spatial, temporal and seasonal variations in feeding intensity since GaSI significantly changed with place, month and season. The changes of feeding habit and intensity of P. Septemradiatus were not regulated by the interaction of fish size and place, fish size and season, and place and season. These results provided new knowledge on feeding habit and intensity of this fish specice, being used for the understanding of fish adaption and conservation in the study region. Keywords Gastro-somatic index, mudskipper, Periophthalmodon septemradiatus, relative gut length References [1] Murdy, E. O. & Jaafar, Z., Taxonomy and systematics review, In: Z. Jaafar, E. O. Murdy (eds) Fishes out of water: biology and ecology of mudskippers, CRC Press, Boca Raton, pp. 1-36, 2017 [2] Murdy, E. O., A taxonomic revision and cladistic analysis of the oxudercine gobies (Gobiidae, Oxudercinae), Australian Museum Journal, 11 (1989) 93.[3] Murdy, E., Systematics of Oxudercinae, In: R. A. Patzner, J. L. V. Tassell, M. Kovacic, B. G. Kapoor (eds) The biology of gobies, Science Publishers, New Hampshire, United States, pp. 99-106, 2011 [4] Bhatt, N. Y., Patel, S. J., Patel, D. A. & Patel, H. P., Burrowing activities of goby fish in the recent intertidal mud flats along the Navinal coast, Kachchh, Western India, Journal of the Geological Society of India, 74 (2009) 515-530.[5] Al-Hussaini, A. H., On the functional morphology of the alimentary tract of some fish in relation to differences in their feeding habits: anatomy and histology, Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science, 3 (1949) 109-139.[6] Desai, V. R., Studies on fishery and biology of Tor tor (Hamilton) from river Narmada. I. Food and feeding habits, Journal of the Inland Fisheries Society of India, 2 (1970) 101-112.[7] Le, T., Nguyen, M. T., Nguyen, V. P., Nguyen, D. C., Pham, X. H., Nguyen, T. S., Hoang, V. C., Hoang, P. L., Le, H. & Dao, N. C., Provinces and City in the Mekong Delta, Education Publishing House, Ha Noi, 2006.[8] Khaironizam, M. Z. & Norma-Rashid, Y., First record of the mudskipper, Periophthalmodon septemradiatus (Hamilton) (Teleostei: Gobiidae) from Peninsular Malaysia, Raffles Bulletin of Zoology, 51 (2003) 97-100.[9] Wand, M. P., Data-based choice of histogram bin width, The American Statistician, 51 (1997) 59-64.[10] Vo, T. T. & Tran, D. D., Study on nutritional characteristics of Oxyeleotris urophthalmus fish distributed along the Hau River, Can Tho University Journal of Science, Fishery (2014) 192-197.[11] Dinh, Q. M., Nguyen, D. T. & Danh, S., Food and feeding habits of the broadheah sleeper Eleotris melanosoma from coastline in Soc Trang, Proceedings of the 7th National Scientific Conference on Ecology and Biological Resources, Publishing house for Science and Technology, 1873-1879, 2017.[12] Tran, D. D., Some aspects of biology and population dynamics of the goby Pseudapocryptes elongatus (Cuvier, 1816) in the Mekong Delta, PhD thesis, Universiti Malaysia Terengganu, 2008.[13] Dinh, Q. M., Qin, J. G., Dittmann, S. & Tran, D. D., Seasonal variation of food and feeding in burrowing goby Parapocryptes serperaster (Gobiidae) at different body sizes, Ichthyological Research, 64 (2017) 179-189.[14] Dinh, Q. M. & Tran, M. T. D., Digestive tract morphology, food and feeding habits of the goby Stigmatogobius pleurostigma (Bleeker, 1849) from the Coastline in Soc Trang, VNU Journal of Science: Natural Sciences and Technology, 34 (2018) 46-55.

Introduction“From every kind of man obedience I expect; I’m the Emperor of Japan.” (“Miyasama,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s musical The Mikado, 1885)This commentary is facilitated by—surprisingly resilient—oriental stereotypes of an imagined Japan (think of Oscar Wilde’s assertion, in 1889, that Japan was a European invention). During the Victorian era, in Britain, there was a craze for all things oriental, particularly ceramics and “there was a craze for all things Japanese and no middle class drawing room was without its Japanese fan or teapot.“ (V&A Victorian). These pastoral depictions of the ‘oriental life’ included the figures of men and women in oriental garb, with fans, stilt shoes, kimono-like robes, and appropriate headdresses, engaging in garden-based activities, especially tea ceremony variations (Landow). In fact, tea itself, and the idea of a ceremony of serving it, had taken up a central role, even an obsession in middle- and upper-class Victorian life. Similarly, landscapes with wild seas, rugged rocks and stunted pines, wizened monks, pagodas and temples, and particular fauna and flora (cranes and other birds flying through clouds of peonies, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums) were very popular motifs (see Martin and Koda). Rather than authenticity, these designs heightened the Western-based romantic stereotypes associated with a stylised form of Japanese life, conducted sedately under rule of the Japanese Imperial Court. In reality, prior to the Meiji period (1868–1912), the Emperor was largely removed from everyday concerns, residing as an isolated, holy figure in Kyoto, the traditional capital of Japan. Japan was instead ruled from Edo (modern day Tokyo) led by the Shogun and his generals, according to a strict Confucian influenced code (see Keene). In Japan, as elsewhere, the presence of feudal-style governance includes policies that determine much of everyday life, including restrictions on clothing (Rall 169). The Samurai code was no different, and included a series of protocols that restricted rank, movement, behaviour, and clothing. As Vincent has noted in the case of the ‘lace tax’ in Great Britain, these restrictions were designed to punish those who seek to penetrate the upper classes through their costume (28-30). In Japan, pre-Meiji sumptuary laws, for example, restricted the use of gold, and prohibited the use of a certain shade of red by merchant classes (V&A Kimono).Therefore, in the governance of pre-globalised societies, the importance of clothing and textile is evident; as Jones and Stallybrass comment: We need to understand the antimatedness of clothes, their ability to “pick up” subjects, to mould and shape them both physically and socially—to constitute subjects through their power as material memories […] Clothing is a worn world: a world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body. (2-3, emphasis added)The significant re-imagining of Japanese cultural and national identities are explored here through the cataclysmic impact of Western ideologies on Japanese cultural traditions. There are many ways to examine how indigenous cultures respond to European, British, or American (hereafter Western) influences, particularly in times of conflict (Wilk). Western ideology arrived in Japan after a long period of isolation (during which time Japan’s only contact was with Dutch traders) through the threat of military hostility and war. It is after this outside threat was realised that Japan’s adoption of military and industrial practices begins. The re-imagining of their national identity took many forms, and the inclusion of a Western-style military costuming as a schoolboy uniform became a highly visible indicator of Japan’s mission to protect its sovereign integrity. A brief history of Japan’s rise from a collection of isolated feudal states to a unified military power, in not only the Asian Pacific region but globally, demonstrates the speed at which they adopted the Western mode of warfare. Gunboats on Japan’s ShorelinesJapan was forcefully opened to the West in the 1850s by America under threat of First Name Perry’s ‘gunboat diplomacy’ (Hillsborough 7-8). Following this, Japan underwent a rapid period of modernisation, and an upsurge in nationalism and military expansion that was driven by a desire to catch up to the European powers present in the Pacific. Noted by Ian Ferguson in Civilization: The West and the Rest, Unsure, the Japanese decided […] to copy everything […] Japanese institutions were refashioned on Western models. The army drilled like Germans; the navy sailed like Britons. An American-style system of state elementary and middle schools was also introduced. (221, emphasis added)This was nothing short of a wide-scale reorganisation of Japan’s entire social structure and governance. Under the Emperor Meiji, who wrested power from the Shogunate and reclaimed it for the Imperial head, Japan steamed into an industrial revolution, achieving in a matter of years what had taken Europe over a century.Japan quickly became a major player-elect on the world stage. However, as an island nation, Japan lacked the essentials of both coal and iron with which to fashion not only industrial machinery but also military equipment, the machinery of war. In 1875 Japan forced Korea to open itself to foreign (read: Japanese) trade. In the same treaty, Korea was recognised as a sovereign nation, separate from Qing China (Tucker 1461). The necessity for raw materials then led to the Sino-Japanese War (1894–95), a conflict between Japan and China that marked the emergence of Japan as a major world power. The Korean Peninsula had long been China’s most important client state, but its strategic location adjacent to the Japanese archipelago, and its natural resources of coal and iron, attracted Japan’s interest. Later, the Russo-Japanese War (1904–05), allowed a victorious Japan to force Russia to abandon its expansionist policy in the Far East, becoming the first Asian power in modern times to defeat a European power. The Russo-Japanese War developed out of the rivalry between Russia and Japan for dominance in Korea and Manchuria, again in the struggle for natural resources (Tucker 1534-46).Japan’s victories, together with the county’s drive for resources, meant that Japan could now determine its role within the Asia-Pacific sphere of influence. As Japan’s military, and their adoption of Westernised combat, proved effective in maintaining national integrity, other social institutions also looked to the West (Ferguson 221). In an ironic twist—while Victorian and Continental fashion was busy adopting the exotic, oriental look (Martin and Koda)—the kimono, along with other essentials of Japanese fashions, were rapidly altered (both literally and figuratively) to suit new, warlike ideology. It should be noted that kimono literally means ‘things that you wear’ and which, prior to exposure to Western fashions, signified all worn clothing (Dalby 65-119). “Wearing Things” in Westernised JapanAs Japan modernised during the late 1800s the kimono was positioned as symbolising barbaric, pre-modern, ‘oriental’ Japan. Indeed, on 17 January 1887 the Meiji Empress issued a memorandum on the subject of women’s clothing in Japan: “She [the Empress] believed that western clothes were in fact closer to the dress of women in ancient Japan than the kimonos currently worn and urged that they be adopted as the standard clothes of the reign” (Keene 404). The resemblance between Western skirts and blouses and the simple skirt and separate top that had been worn in ancient times by a people descended from the sun goddess, Amaterasu wo mikami, was used to give authority and cultural authenticity to Japan’s modernisation projects. The Imperial Court, with its newly ennobled European style aristocrats, exchanged kimono silks for Victorian finery, and samurai armour for military pomp and splendour (Figure 1).Figure 1: The Meiji Emperor, Empress and Crown Prince resplendent in European fashions on an outing to Asukayama Park. Illustration: Toyohara Chikanobu, circa 1890.It is argued here that the function of a uniform is to prepare the body for service. Maids and butlers, nurses and courtesans, doctors, policemen, and soldiers are all distinguished by their garb. Prudence Black states: “as a technology, uniforms shape and code the body so they become a unit that belongs to a collective whole” (93). The requirement to discipline bodies through clothing, particularly through uniforms, is well documented (see Craik, Peoples, and Foucault). The need to distinguish enemies from allies on the battlefield requires adherence to a set of defined protocols, as referenced in military fashion compendiums (see Molloy). While the postcolonial adoption of Western-based clothing reflects a new form of subservience (Rall, Kuechler and Miller), in Japan, the indigenous garments were clearly designed in the interests of ideological allegiance. To understand the Japanese sartorial traditions, the kimono itself must be read as providing a strong disciplinary element. The traditional garment is designed to represent an upright and unbending column—where two meters of under bindings are used to discipline the body into shape are then topped with a further four meters of a stiffened silk obi wrapped around the waist and lower chest. To dress formally in such a garment requires helpers (see Dalby). The kimono both constructs and confines the women who wear it, and presses them into their roles as dutiful, upper-class daughters (see Craik). From the 1890s through to the 1930s, when Japan again enters a period of militarism, the myth of the kimono again changes as it is integrated into the build-up towards World War II.Decades later, when Japan re-established itself as a global economic power in the 1970s and 1980s, the kimono was re-authenticated as Japan’s ‘traditional’ garment. This time it was not the myth of a people descended from solar deities that was on display, but that of samurai strength and propriety for men, alongside an exaggerated femininity for women, invoking a powerful vision of Japanese sartorial tradition. This reworking of the kimono was only possible as the garment was already contained within the framework of Confucian family duty. However, in the lead up to World War II, Japanese military advancement demanded of its people soldiers that could win European-style wars. The quickest solution was to copy the military acumen and strategies of global warfare, and the costumes of the soldiery and seamen of Europe, including Great Britain (Ferguson). It was also acknowledged that soldiers were ‘made not born’ so the Japanese educational system was re-vamped to emulate those of its military rivals (McVeigh). It was in the uptake of schoolboy uniforms that this re-imagining of Japanese imperial strength took place.The Japanese Schoolboy UniformCentral to their rapid modernisation, Japan adopted a constitutional system of education that borrowed from American and French models (Tipton 68-69). The government viewed education as a “primary means of developing a sense of nation,” and at its core, was the imperial authorities’ obsession with defining “Japan and Japaneseness” (Tipton 68-69). Numerous reforms eventually saw, after an abolition of fees, nearly 100% attendance by both boys and girls, despite a lingering mind-set that educating women was “a waste of time” (Tipton 68-69). A boys’ uniform based on the French and Prussian military uniforms of the 1860s and 1870s respectively (Kinsella 217), was adopted in 1879 (McVeigh 47). This jacket, initially with Prussian cape and cap, consists of a square body, standing mandarin style collar and a buttoned front. It was through these education reforms, as visually symbolised by the adoption of military style school uniforms, that citizen making, education, and military training became interrelated aspects of Meiji modernisation (Kinsella 217). Known as the gakuran (gaku: to study; ran: meaning both orchid, and a pun on Horanda, meaning Holland, the only Western country with trading relations in pre-Meiji Japan), these jackets were a symbol of education, indicating European knowledge, power and influence and came to reflect all things European in Meiji Japan. By adopting these jackets two objectives were realised:through the magical power of imitation, Japan would, by adopting the clothing of the West, naturally rise in military power; and boys were uniformed to become not only educated as quasi-Europeans, but as fighting soldiers and sons (suns) of the nation.The gakuran jacket was first popularised by state-run schools, however, in the century and a half that the garment has been in use it has come to symbolise young Japanese masculinity as showcased in campus films, anime, manga, computer games, and as fashion is the preeminent garment for boybands and Japanese hipsters.While the gakuran is central to the rise of global militarism in Japan (McVeigh 51-53), the jacket would go on to form the basis of the Sun Yat Sen and Mao Suits as symbols of revolutionary China (see McVeigh). Supposedly, Sun Yat Sen saw the schoolboy jacket in Japan as a utilitarian garment and adopted it with a turn down collar (Cumming et al.). For Sun Yat Sen, the gakuran was the perfect mix of civilian (school boy) and military (the garment’s Prussian heritage) allowing him to walk a middle path between the demands of both. Furthermore, the garment allowed Sun to navigate between Western style suits and old-fashioned Qing dynasty styles (Gerth 116); one was associated with the imperialism of the National Products Movement, while the other represented the corruption of the old dynasty. In this way, the gakuran was further politicised from a national (Japanese) symbol to a global one. While military uniforms have always been political garments, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, as the world was rocked by revolutions and war, civilian clothing also became a means of expressing political ideals (McVeigh 48-49). Note that Mahatma Ghandi’s clothing choices also evolved from wholly Western styles to traditional and emphasised domestic products (Gerth 116).Mao adopted this style circa 1927, further defining the style when he came to power by adding elements from the trousers, tunics, and black cotton shoes worn by peasants. The suit was further codified during the 1960s, reaching its height in the Cultural Revolution. While the gakuran has always been a scholarly black (see Figure 2), subtle differences in the colour palette differentiated the Chinese population—peasants and workers donned indigo blue Mao jackets, while the People’s Liberation Army Soldiers donned khaki green. This limited colour scheme somewhat paradoxically ensured that subtle hierarchical differences were maintained even whilst advocating egalitarian ideals (Davis 522). Both the Sun Yat Sen suit and the Mao jacket represented the rejection of bourgeois (Western) norms that objectified the female form in favour of a uniform society. Neo-Maoism and Mao fever of the early 1990s saw the Mao suit emerge again as a desirable piece of iconic/ironic youth fashion. Figure 2: An example of Gakuran uniform next to the girl’s equivalent on display at Ichikawa Gakuen School (Japan). Photo: Emerald King, 2015.There is a clear and vital link between the influence of the Prussian style Japanese schoolboy uniform on the later creation of the Mao jacket—that of the uniform as an integral piece of worn propaganda (Atkins).For Japan, the rapid deployment of new military and industrial technologies, as well as a sartorial need to present her leaders as modern (read: Western) demanded the adoption of European-style uniforms. The Imperial family had always been removed from Samurai battlefields, so the adoption of Western military costume allowed Japan’s rulers to present a uniform face to other global powers. When Japan found itself in conflict in the Asia Pacific Region, without an organised military, the first requirement was to completely reorganise their system of warfare from a feudal base and to train up national servicemen. Within an American-style compulsory education system, the European-based curriculum included training in mathematics, engineering and military history, as young Britons had for generations begun their education in Greek and Latin, with the study of Ancient Greek and Roman wars (Bantock). It is only in the classroom that ideological change on a mass scale can take place (Reference Please), a lesson not missed by later leaders such as Mao Zedong.ConclusionIn the 1880s, the Japanese leaders established their position in global politics by adopting clothing and practices from the West (Europeans, Britons, and Americans) in order to quickly re-shape their country’s educational system and military establishment. The prevailing military costume from foreign cultures not only disciplined their adopted European bodies, they enforced a new regime through dress (Rall 157-174). For boys, the gakuran symbolised the unity of education and militarism as central to Japanese masculinity. Wearing a uniform, as many authors suggest, furthers compliance (Craik, Nagasawa Kaiser and Hutton, and McVeigh). As conscription became a part of Japanese reality in World War II, the schoolboys just swapped their military-inspired school uniforms for genuine military garments.Re-imagining a Japanese schoolboy uniform from a European military costume might suit ideological purposes (Atkins), but there is more. The gakuran, as a uniform based on a close, but not fitted jacket, was the product of a process of advanced industrialisation in the garment-making industry also taking place in the 1800s:Between 1810 and 1830, technical calibrations invented by tailors working at the very highest level of the craft [in Britain] eventually made it possible for hundreds of suits to be cut up and made in advance [...] and the ready-to-wear idea was put into practice for men’s clothes […] originally for uniforms for the War of 1812. (Hollander 31) In this way, industrialisation became a means to mass production, which furthered militarisation, “the uniform is thus the clothing of the modern disciplinary society” (Black 102). There is a perfect resonance between Japan’s appetite for a modern military and their rise to an industrialised society, and their conquests in Asia Pacific supplied the necessary material resources that made such a rapid deployment possible. The Japanese schoolboy uniform was an integral part of the process of both industrialisation and militarisation, which instilled in the wearer a social role required by modern Japanese society in its rise for global power. Garments are never just clothing, but offer a “world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body” (Jones and Stallybrass 3-4).Today, both the Japanese kimono and the Japanese schoolboy uniform continue to interact with, and interrogate, global fashions as contemporary designers continue to call on the tropes of ‘military chic’ (Tonchi) and Japanese-inspired clothing (Kawamura). References Atkins, Jaqueline. Wearing Propaganda: Textiles on the Home Front in Japan, Britain, and the United States. Princeton: Yale UP, 2005.Bantock, Geoffrey Herman. Culture, Industrialisation and Education. London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1968.Black, Prudence. “The Discipline of Appearance: Military Style and Australian Flight Hostess Uniforms 1930–1964.” Fashion & War in Popular Culture. Ed. Denise N. Rall. Bristol: Intellect/U Chicago P, 2014. 91-106.Craik, Jenifer. Uniforms Exposed: From Conformity to Transgression. 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