Journal articles on the topic 'Brown Council (Group of artists)'

This article outlines the practice of enter & inhabit, a UK, dance and photography collaboration in outdoor spaces which foregrounds a sensorial relationship to space and place. Photographic images and reflective writings from a three-year research council funded project entitled Sensing The City are shared as a means to offer insight into the artistic methodology of enter & inhabit. Credits Sensing The City Project Team: Natalie Garrett Brown, Amy Voris, Emma Meehan, Christian Kipp Photography: Christian Kipp Contributing Movement Artists (Postcards): Helen Poynor, Paula Kramer, Hilary Kneale, Sandra Reeve.

The displays of particular artistic associations in the Municipal Museum in Bydgoszcz between 1930 and 1936 are being discussed. The history of Pomeranian artistic associations is not a well-known subject, and no dedicated monographs have been written to date. It appears commonly in the history of the regional chapter of the Polish Association of Visual Artists (Związek Polskich Artystów Plastyków) located in Bydgoszcz. The basic sources include the Archive of the Leon Wyczółkowski District Museum in Bydgoszcz and information contained in Polish press of the period in question. There were two main goals to be achieved for the Pomeranian artists: while aspiring to equal the art represented by more important artistic centres of the country, to show a close connection with their own region and its Polish heritage. During the interwar period, a number of artistic organisations appeared in Bydgoszcz. The most significant were the local branch of the Society for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts (Towarzystwo Zachęty Sztuk Pięknych), established in September 1921, and the Artistic and Cultural Council (Rada Artystyczno-Kulturalna), founded in December 1934. The first exhibition of the Pomeranian Association of Visual Artists (Związek Plastyków Pomorskich) was opened in December 1930 as a summary of the Association’s achievements of that year. It comprised 92 works by 15 artists. Subsequent exhibitions in December 1931 and December 1932 served a similar purpose. The turning point in the history of Pomeranian artistic associations took place in 1933 when – as a result of an internal conflict – the Group of Pomeranian Visual Artists (Grupa Plastyków Pomorskich) was formed. The Group quickly became the leading artistic force of the region, with their first exhibition opening in December 1933. The 4th annual exhibition of the Group of Pomeranian Visual Artists took place in December 1934, simultaneously with the founding of the Artistic and Cultural Council (Rada Artystyczno-Kulturalna) in Bydgoszcz. The Council coordinated, implemented, and documented artistic movements in specially dedicated sections for literature, music, visual arts and radio, quickly becoming an intermediary between artists and their audience. Tanks to their efforts, the first Salon Bydgoski exhibition was organised in 1936. That very year the Group of Pomeranian Visual Artists changed their name to the Group of Visual Artists of Bydgoszcz. Both organizations lacked a well-defined artistic programme, whereas their members were mainly connected for non-artistic motivations, such as the possibility to exhibit their works in well-known institutions or prestige. All of the discussed displays were widely covered in the local press, especially by Henryk Kuminek and Marian Turwid, two leading art critics of the region.

Over 1949–1951 the Association of Friends of the Otago Museum purchased approximately 100 pieces of contemporary ceramic work described by them at the time as representing the best current English potters – work they felt would have a lasting value. Muriel Rose, the Crafts and Industrial Design Officer at the British Council, made the selection on their behalf and arranged transport. The group included work from Bernard Leach, the Leach Pottery, Michael Cardew, Katherine Pleydell-Bouverie, Steven Sykes, Henry Hammond and Margaret Leach, as well as Wetheriggs Pottery and examples of work from commercial factories, particularly Wedgwood, who employed highly regarded graphic artists. In 1951, HD Skinner suggested to Robert Falla, director of the Dominion Museum, that they share this group. This paper examines the acquisition as a whole, its background, and the logistics of the division between the two institutions.

As an architect with the London County Council (LCC), a newspaper columnist, friend of artists and an incipient collector, Colin St John Wilson is a fascinating figure in the interacting circles of 1950s London. It was Wilson’s sketch-plan that ordered the ‘market-stalls’ of the This is Tomorrow exhibition and – in the opinion of Theo Crosby – the display he created with architect Peter Carter, engineer Frank Newby and sculptor Robert Adams most closely achieved the exhibition’s original aim of an anonymous synthesis of the arts. In this article, the author interprets Wilson’s life, work and theory as both critique and commentary in an examination of three pertinent issues within the Independent Group: the possibilities of artistic collaboration in architecture; the creative tension in architecture between science/technology and art/humanism; and the potential for a deeper psychologising of space – linked to psychoanalytical debates of the time. Interrogating these concerns is of importance, the author proposes, as they were so central to the discourses and form-making of architecture both at the time and in the immediate futures of the 1960s, the 1970s and afterwards.

Joan Littlewood blamed anti-socialist prejudice for Theatre Workshop's hostile treatment by the Arts Council. Yet her failure to secure the Council's backing for the Fun Palace – an open-ended project for an arts, entertainment, and education centre she developed with architect Cedric Price – may be better expressed as a collision between anarchy and bureaucracy. Following Nadine Holdsworth's 1997 article for New Theatre Quarterly, ‘“They'd Have Pissed on My Grave”: the Arts Council and Theatre Workshop’, in this article Juliet Rufford argues that the project fell victim to a form of programme censorship because it broke the rules of culture and professionalism as defined by the major funding body for the arts. The concept of ‘fun’ is seen as vital to understanding the cynicism of the policy makers towards Price and Littlewood's proposals, but also as driving explorations of intermediality, interactive performance, and performative architecture that have since been taken up successfully by artists working within and beyond the subsidized sector. Juliet Rufford is a post-doctoral research associate at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and is co-convenor of the International Federation of Theatre Research's Theatre Architecture Working Group. She has written on theatre architecture, site-specific performance, scenography, and the politics of space for publications including Contemporary Theatre Review and the Journal of Architectural Education.

This article focuses on the lack of full compliance with teaching ethno–racial relations education in Brazilian university undergraduate programs, particularly law programs. Teaching this topic was specified by the Conselho Nacional de Educação (CNE, National Education Council) in Resolution CNE/CP no. 01/2004. Although teaching ethno–racial relations education has not been a panacea for judicial sentencing based on racial criteria, we propose the working hypothesis that teaching it is a tool that can help catalyze a reduction in racist sentences by courts, for example, a defendant not fitting the stereotypical criminal pattern by being white or being assumed to belong to some criminal group for being black (preto) or brown (pardo). Through surveys at sixty-nine federal universities and documentary research into law program curricula, it was discovered that Resolution CNE/CP no. 01/2004 is not being fully or appropriately implemented at these institutions, a fact that may be enabling the continuance of race-based penal sentencing, which is illegal and extremely harmful to the black/brown Brazilian population. To prevent or minimize this problem, full compliance with Resolution CNE/CP no. 01/2004 is suggested.

Abstract. The aim of scientific dissemination is to spread interest and knowledge of scientific issues by trying to reach people of all ages and social backgrounds. Simplifying, without trivializing, scientific concepts and making them attractive to the general public is therefore essential to achieve the previous objectives. For this purpose, it can be useful for scientists to work in close collaboration with artists, implementing new tools that can positively influence the emotional sphere and capture the attention of the people involved. Playful educational activity and visual language play a key role in this process, to convey interest and facilitate learning. An example of this approach are the educational laboratories structured as group games, in which great importance is given both to practical activities and to the transmission of concepts through their visualization in the form of images. Over the last 8 years, the Istituto Nazionale di Geofisica e Vulcanologia (National Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology, INGV), the Istituto di Scienze Marine del Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche (Institute of Marine Sciences of the National Research Council, CNR-ISMAR) and the Historical Oceanography Society (HOS) have collaborated in the organization of science dissemination events involving students from schools of different levels participating in educational experiences based on games, characterized by an essentially visual approach to the concepts presented. In this work, we would like to give a brief overview of these educational tools, retracing the choices made while ideating them, thanks mainly to the close collaboration with artists and illustrators.

In the context of the Catholic Reformation serious concerns were expressed about the affective potency of naturalistic depictions of beautiful, sensuous figures in religious art. In theological discourse similar anxieties had long been articulated about potential contiguities between elevating, licit desire for an extraordinarily beautiful divinity and base, illicit feeling. In the later fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, in the decades preceding the Council of Trent, a handful of writers, thinkers and artists asserted a positive connection between spirituality and sexuality. Leonardo da Vinci, and a group of painters working under his aegis in Lombardy, were keenly aware of painting’s capacity to evoke feeling in a viewer. Pictures they produced for domestic devotion featured knowingly sensuous and unusually epicene beauties. This article suggests that this iconography daringly advocated the value of pleasurable sensation to religiosity. Its popularity allows us to envisage beholders who were neither mired in sin, nor seeking to divorce themselves from the physical realm, but engaging afresh with age-old dialectics of body and soul, sexuality and spirituality.

e15541^ Background: We previously reported results of a phase I study of oxaliplatin, docetaxel, and capecitabine for advanced esophagogastric cancer (Evans et al, Am J C Onc 2007). In this phase II component we describe response rates, toxicity, and survival data. Methods: Patients with histologically confirmed metastatic esophagogastric squamous or adenocarcinoma were eligible. Patients received oxaliplatin 50mg/m2 and docetaxel 35mg/m2 on days 1 and 8 as well as capecitabine 750 mg/m2 twice daily on days 1–10 in each 21 day cycle. Results: 21 patients were enrolled and were evaluable. Median age was 65, range 46–83. All had adenocarcinoma histology. Three patients received prior adjuvant or neoadjuvant therapy. A total of 91 cycles were delivered, median of 4, range of 1–11. Median follow-up was 2 years; all patients have been followed for at least 1 year. Median overall survival was 11 months. The overall response rate was 43%. Three patients achieved a complete response. Two of these patients remain without evidence of disease at 38 and 12 months. Three patients experienced confirmed pulmonary emboli, and one patient expired at home with possible pulmonary embolism (exact cause unknown).Other Grade 3/4 toxicities were: nausea (3/21), fatigue (2/21), diarrhea (4/21), hand/foot (1/21), dehydration (3/21), esophagitis (2/21), infection (1/21), Electrolyte (3/21), neutropenic fever (2/21), neutropenia (4/21), anemia (1/21). Conclusions: DOC is an active and easily administered regimen for metastatic esophagogastric cancer. Consideration should be given for prophylactic anticoagulation for patients with metastatic esophagogastric cancer. [Table: see text] ASCO Conflict of Interest Policy and Exceptions In compliance with the guidelines established by the ASCO Conflict of Interest Policy (J Clin Oncol. 2006 Jan 20;24[3]:519–521) and the Accreditation Council for Continuing Medical Education (ACCME), ASCO strives to promote balance, independence, objectivity, and scientific rigor through disclosure of financial and other interests, and identification and management of potential conflicts. According to the ASCO Conflict of Interest Policy, the following financial and other relationships must be disclosed: employment or leadership position, consultant or advisory role, stock ownership, honoraria, research funding, expert testimony, and other remuneration (J Clin Oncol. 2006 Jan 20;24[3]:520). The ASCO Conflict of Interest Policy disclosure requirements apply to all authors who submit abstracts to the Annual Meeting. For clinical trials that began accrual on or after April 29, 2004, ASCO's Policy places some restrictions on the financial relationships of principal investigators (J Clin Oncol. 2006 Jan 20;24[3]:521). If a principal investigator holds any restricted relationships, his or her abstract will be ineligible for placement in the 2009 Annual Meeting unless the ASCO Ethics Committee grants an exception. Among the circumstances that might justify an exception are that the principal investigator (1) is a widely acknowledged expert in a particular therapeutic area; (2) is the inventor of a unique technology or treatment being evaluated in the clinical trial; or (3) is involved in international clinical oncology research and has acted consistently with recognized international standards of ethics in the conduct of clinical research. NIH-sponsored trials are exempt from the Policy restrictions. Abstracts for which authors requested and have been granted an exception in accordance with ASCO's Policy are designated with a caret symbol (^) in the Annual Meeting Proceedings. For more information about the ASCO Conflict of Interest Policy and the exceptions process, please visit www.asco.org/conflictofinterest .

Social and Cultural Conditions and Limitations of the Northern Ireland Peace ProcessThe conflict in Northern Ireland, sometimes called “the Troubles” (by British government), sometimes called “war” (by nationalists), has lasted since 1921. The article presents the historical, structural and cultural background of the conflict in Ulster. Two main communities – Catholic and Protestant – are divided because of lots of reasons: one of them is different interpretation of history (“imagined histories”). On the social level the dominant position of the Protestant community was supported by a system of discrimination. The two conflicted communities are integrated around different sets of values, symbols and norms, and their sense of belonging and group membership is connected with different ethnic identities.The peace process started in 1998 (Good Friday Agreement). Since then considerable changes have been implemented in order to end the political, social and cultural discrimination of the minority Catholic community. Changes (reforms) at the governmental level, like establishing the new Northern Ireland Assembly and the Police Service of Northern Ireland, are very important. But equally important are changes on cultural and symbolic levels because they create space to re-defining ethnic identities. A good example of this could be the Re-Imaging Communities Programme, an initiative launched in 2006 by the Arts Council of Northern Ireland. The idea of the programme is to change – in cooperation with local people and artists – sectarian and militant murals into neutral ones and create more friendly public space.

In 1934 ARD Fairburn published the essay "Some Aspects of N.Z. Art and Letters" in the journal Art in New Zealand. In it he criticized Alan Mulgan's book Home: A Colonial's Adventure, which had been first published in 1927, and was reprinted in 1934. It was, in Fairburn's view, an account unacceptably steeped in romantic melancholy for a distant motherland that was no longer as germane as it had once been. Instead he proposed looking to the American Transcendentalists Twain and Thoreau for direction. Also published in 1934 was a small book from the New Zealand Institute of Architects called Building in New Zealand. In it the NZIA made a case for the professional and social responsibilities of the architect in New Zealand and it is best described as conservative. However it is pertinent that this book was edited by Alan Mulgan. Here the role of the architect in cast in practical terms that bear direct comparison to the code of practice issue for the Royal Institute of British Architects. Mulgan's contribution to discussion on New Zealand architecture is limited to this publication, and it is likely his editorship of Building in New Zealand was motivated more by depression economics than architectural interest. However this book is still an important summary of the profession at that time, and it links architecture to Mulgan's romantic writings though the reiteration of a colonial fountainhead. By contrast Fairburn would go on to champion a national voice for New Zealand's writers, artists, and architects. Moreover he established a close relationship with Vernon Brown, and was to associate with Bill Wilson and the Architectural Group. Indeed, the limited writings available from these architectural associates often echo Fairburn's 1934 call for an antipodean "honesty" in "our" buildings. It is in the immediate post war period that the emergence of a national architectural expression in New Zealand is most celebrated, being lead in Auckland by Brown, Wilson, and the Architectural Group. However an examination of the writings by Fairburn and Mulgan shows that the elements of the debate were already in place well before then. I conclude that the antecedent for the emergence of debate on a national architectural character appears, however unintentionally, in the 1934 writings of Fairburn and Mulgan. Critical to this is discussion on we mean by "honest" architectural work.

Academic and heritage institutions worldwide use freezers to hold specimens, for a variety of stakeholders. At Otago Museum, the Natural Science freezer is utilised by a diverse range of organisations with widely differing end uses. As a repository for native species, Otago Museum accepts and stores specimens for possible addition to the collection, however the freezer unit is also used as a temporary holding space for material that will be used by others such as researchers, government bodies and the local community. This multi-use approach allows the museum to build and maintain important relationships beyond its walls. One important group to whom freezer space is allocated that is unique to Otago, is the Komiti Taoka Tuku Iho (KTTI), a committee which is made up of local indigenous community (runaka), museum, city council, and government department representatives. The KTTI committee oversees the allocation of local taoka species (those with a traditional significance to the community) to primarily traditional artists, and ensures the cultural use of these very desirable species continues in a sustainable way. Given the number of stakeholders involved, their very different objects and the impossibility of knowing exactly when specimens will arrive or when they will depart, managing a limited resource such as the Natural Science freezer can be a challenge. The issues involved in managing such an operation will be discussed, as will the significant benefits of working with local institutions and communities, with particular emphasis on the work that is done to assist the local runaka with decision making around specimens that hold particular cultural significance.

Abstract Objectives Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) prevalence is increasing, and no pharmacological intervention exists to treat it. Here, we determined the effect of feeding wild rice and brown rice on liver lipids and the gut microbiome when fed two different high fat background diets meant to induce fatty liver. Methods In the HFD trial, male Wistar rats (n = 8 per group) were fed either a high fat diet (HF), or a HF containing either 20% wild rice (WR) or 20% brown rice (BR) for 8 weeks. Cecal contents, liver, and epididymal fat pads were harvested. Microbiome analysis of cecal contents was conducted by 16S sequencing. In the TWD trial, male Wistar rats (n = 12 per group) were fed the AIN-93G diet (Basal), the Total Western Diet (TWD; a high fat diet that mimics the average American diet), or the TWD containing 30% WR (WR) for 10 weeks, then liver and epididymal fat pads were harvested. Results In the HFD trial, both WR and BR significantly reduced total liver lipids compared to HF (p < 0.0001). However, epididymal fat pad weight was not reduced in either of the rice groups compared to HF (p > 0.05). Serum cholesterol was also reduced in WR compared to HF (p < 0.0188). In the TWD trial, the TWD elevated total liver lipids compared to Basal, but WR reduced liver lipids significantly (p < o.oo6) compared to TWD. WR did not lower epididymal fat pad weight (p > 0.1) compared to TWD. Additionally, p-AMPK/AMPK was increased in WR compared to TWD (p < 0.003). This shift in AMPK activation was not seen in the HFD trial (p > 0.05). In the HFD trial microbiome analysis, the beta-diversity measure of community dissimilarity indicated that WR had a significantly different microbial profile compared to the animals fed the HF diet (p < 0.003) while BR had an increased abundance of lactobacillus (p < 0.03) compared to animals fed the HF diet. Conclusions Wild rice feeding reduced fatty liver, using two different high fat background diets, and altered the gut microbiome. Wild rice should be further explored as a dietary approach to prevent development of non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD), and to investigate whether hepatic lipid reductions are mediated by changes in the gut microbiome. Funding Sources The TWD trial was sponsored by the Whiteside Institute for Clinical Research and the HFD trial was sponsored by the Minnesota Cultivated Wild Rice Council.

Background: Palmo-plantar pustulosis (PPP) and palmoplantar psoriasis with pustules (PPso)/Palmoplantar pustular psoriasis are entities that present with chronic cyclical eruptions of vesicles and pustules of palms and soles, which were initially considered to be similar but was defined as separate entities by the international psoriasis council in 2007. Individuals with PPP are at increased risk of psoriasis vulgaris, psoriatic arthritis, autoimmune thyroid disease and 90% of pustulosis patients can have psoriasis-like rash at some stage of the disease. Aim was to assess the clinical, histopathological and dermoscopic features of PPP and palmoplantar psoriasis with pustules. Methods: A cross sectional analysis of all patients who presented to us over 1 year with vesicles and/or pustules of hands and/or feet and were diagnosed with PPP and palmoplantar psoriasis with pustules/palmoplantar pustular psoriasis, both clinically and histologically, were done. The severity was analysed using palmoplantar pustulosis area severity index (PPPASI) and the clinical, histological and dermoscopic features were noted. Results: Twenty-four patients were categorized into 2 groups of 12 each, with a male predominance in both the groups. Majority (66.6%) of PPP belonged to the age group of 20-40 years whereas 83% of PPso belonged to >40 years of age. Dermoscopic findings noted in both groups were translucent yellow areas, yellow/red-brown globules, dotted regularly arranged vessels, yellow crust and globules following dermatoglyphics. Conclusions: The study, though with limited sample size, highlights few clinical, histopathological and dermoscopic features which helps in differentiating the two groups.

In the course of my research in archives – in search of documents about the history of the Art Foundation of the People’s Republic (from 1968 Art Fund) – while leafing through the sea of files in the National Archives of Hungary (MNL OL) year after year, I came across so-far unknown documents on the life and fate of Béla Kondor which had been overlooked by the special literature so far.Some reflected the character of the period from summer of 1956 to spring 1957, more precisely to the opening of the Spring Exhibition. In that spring, after relieving Rákosi of his office, the HWP (Hungarian Workers’ Party, Hun. MDP) cared less for “providing guidance for the arts”, as they were preoccupied with other, more troublesome problems. In the winter/spring after the revolution started on 23 October and crushed on 4 November the echelon of the HSWP (Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party, Hun. MSzMP) had not decided yet whether to strike a league with extreme leftist artistic groups or to pay heed to Memos Makris (Hun. Makrisz Agamemnon), the ministerial commissioner designing the reform of the artists’ association and organizing the Spring Exhibition and to leave the artists – so-far forced into the strait-jacket of socialist realism – alone. I found some documents which shed bright light on the narrow-mindedness of the dogmatic artistic policy trying to bend the artists toward its goals now with the whip, now with milk cake.I start the series of recovered documents with a ministerial file dated summer 1956 on the decision to purchase Kondor’s diploma work (the Dózsa cycle). The next piece of good news is a record of the committee meeting in February 1957 awarding Kondor a Derkovits scholarship. This is followed by ministerial letters – mirrors of the new artistic policy – by a changed, truly partyist scholarship committee which apparently revel in lecturing talented Kondor who was not willing to give up his sovereignty, so his works were often refused to be bought on state funds for museums.In addition to whip-lashing documents, I also present a few which offered some milk cake: a letter inviting him to a book illustrating competition called by the Petőfi Literary Museum and one commissioning him to make the sheets on the Heves county part of a “liberation album”.Next, I put forth a group of illumining documents – long known but never published in details: the files revealing the story of the large panels designed for the walls of the “Uranium city” kindergarten in Pécs and those revealing the preparations for the exhibition in Fényes Adolf gallery in 1960 and the causes of the concurrent tensions – including texts on decisions to hinder the publication of Lajos Németh’s catalogue introduction.The last group includes futile efforts by architects to get Kondor commissions for murals. They give information on three possible works. Another for Pécs again (this time with Tibor Csernus), for works for a “men’s hostel” and on the failure of the possibility. The other is about works for Kecskemét’s Aranyhomok Hotel, another failure. The third is about a glass window competition for a new modern hotel to be built in Salgótarján, to which Kondor was also invited, but the jury did not find his work satisfactory in spite of the fact that the officials representing the city’s “party and council” organs, and the powerful head of the county and town, the president of the county committee of the HSWP all were in favour of commissioning him.Mind you, the architects’ efforts to provide the handful of modern artists with orders for “abstract” works caused headache for the masterminds of controlled art policy, too. On the one hand, they also tried to get rid of the rigidity of the ideologically dogmatic period in line with “who is not against us, is with us”, the motto spreading with political détente, and to give room to these genres qualified as “decoration”. On the other hand, they did not want to give up the figurative works of socialist contents, which the architects wanted to keep away from their modern buildings. A compromise was born: Cultural Affairs and the Art Fund remained supporters of figurative works, and the “decorative” modern murals, mosaics and sculptures were allowed inside the buildings at the cost of the builders.Apart from architects, naturally there were other spokesmen in favour of Kondor (and Csernus and the rest of the shelved artists). In an essay in Új Irás in summer 1961 Lajos Németh simply branded it a waste to deprive Kondor of all channels except book illustration, while anonymous colleagues of the National Gallery guided an American curator to him who organized an exhibition of Kondor’s graphic works he had packed into his suitcase in the Museum of Modern Art in Miami.From the early 1963 – as the rest of the explored documents reveal – better times began in Hungarian internal and cultural politics, hence in Béla Kondor’s life, too. The beginning is marked by a – still “exclusive” – exhibition he could hold in the Young Artists’ Studio in January, followed by a long propitiatory article urging for publicity for Kondor by a young journalist of Magyar Nemzet, Attila Kristóf. Then, in December Kondor became the Grand Prix winner of the second Graphic Biennial of Miskolc.From then on, the documents are no longer about incomprehensible prohibitions or at time self-satisfying wickedness, but about exhibitions (the first in King Stephen Museum, Székesfehérvár), prizes (including the Munkácsy Prize in April 1965), purchases, the marvellous panel for the Grand Hotel on Margaret Island, the preparations for the Venice Biennale of 1968, the exhibition in Art Hall/Műcsarnok in 1970 and its success, and Kondor’s second Munkácsy Prize.Finally, I chanced upon a group of startling and sofar wholly unknown notes which reveals that Béla Kondor was being among the nominees for the 1973 Kossuth Prize. News of his death on 12 December 1972, documents about the museum deposition of his posthumous works and the above group of files close the account of his life.I wrote a detailed study to accompany the documents. My intention was not to explain them – as they speak for themselves – but to insert them in the life-story of Kondor, trying to find out which and how, to what extent contributed to the veering of his life-course and to possibilities of publicity for his works. I obviously included several further facts, partly in the main body of the text, and partly in footnotes. Without presenting them here, let me just pick one or two.Events around the 1960 exhibition kindled the attention not only of the deputy minister of culture György Aczél, but also of the Ministry of the Interior: as Anikó B. Nagy dug out, they asked for an agent’s report on who Kondor was, what role he was playing among young writers, architects, artists, the circle around Vigilia and the intellectuals in general. Also: what role did human cowardice play in banning the panels for the Pécs kindergarten, and how wicked it was – with regulations cited – to ask back the advance money from an artist already hardly making a living with the termination of the Der ko vits scholarship. Again: what turn did modern Hungarian architecture undergo in the early sixties to dare and challenge the still prevalent culture political red tape? It was also a special experience to track down and describe the preparations for the Hungarian exhibition of the Venice Biennial of 1968 and to see how much caution and manoeuvring was needed even in those milder years to get permission for Béla Kondor (in the company of Tibor Vilt and Ignác Kokas) to feature in the pavilion. Finally, it was informative to follow the routes of Kondor’s estate as state acquisitions and museum deposits after his death which foiled his Kossuth Prize.

The Asia and Pacific Museum in Warsaw holds a significant collection of traditional Uzbek and Tajik ceramics representing the main centers of its production: Khorezm, Ferghana Valley, Bukhara and Samarkand. It was amassed by an outstanding Russian ethnologist Grigoriy Derwiz and the museum’s friend, artist and collector Andrzej Strumiłło during the years 1985–1990. The collection numbering nearly 250 objects consists mainly if decorative polychrome and enamel utensils i.e. large bowls badia, pilav plates lagan, bowls kosa and small goblets kosacha. The separate part includes earthenware toys – ocarinas khushtak in the form of fantastic animals, which were created particularly in workshops of famous masters: Hamro Rahimova from Uba in Uzbekistan and Gafur Khalilov from Ura-Tiube in Tajikistan. The dominant part, polychrome and enamel ceramics can be divided into two groups depending mainly on glaze color and style. The most numerous part of the collection is the characteristic, blue and white ceramics created since hundreds of years in famous production centers in Khorezm in central Uzbekistan and in Ferghana Valley in northeastern Uzbekistan and northern Tajikistan. Ceramics from Ferghana and Khorezm are characterized by their color based on shades of blue, turquoise and cobalt on a white background. The common feature for those products are intensive and bright colors which are obtained by a potassium enamel which also gives a specific blue shade. Objects from Khorezm have an orderly composition with symmetrical and rhythmical ornaments. These are the works of an outstanding artists: R. Matchanov from Khanki village near (Uzbekistan), S. Atajanov from Khiva (Uzbekistan) and Y. Sapayev from Kunya Urgench (Turkmenistan). The group of objects with varied ornaments and colors originates from several production centers in Ferghana Valley. They were created among others by Sohibov brothers from Chorku (Tajikistan), Y. Meliyev and B. Mavlanov from Kalibadam (Tajikistan), M. Rahimov from Gurumsay (Uzbekistan) and I. Kamilov from Rishtan (Uzbekistan). The other part of the collection is rather modest and consists of brown, green and yellowish ceramics, which has engraved decoration made of graphite originating from regions of Samarkand, Bukhara and Tashkent. That group is dominated by massive lagan plates from the workshops of Z. Muzafarow from Shahrisabz (Uzbekistan), M. Ablakulov from Urgut (Uzbekistan) and B. Khalilov from Denan (Uzbekistan).

Gapoktan Al-Barokah of Lombok Kulon, Wonosari Subdistrict, in Bondowoso Regency has started milling organic rice using husking machine thus produced raw red rice. Raw red rice is rice grain that has its husks removed. The study established that raw red rice is actually covered by hard husk which contains Phytic Acid that could obstruct nutrition absorption to the body. Other drawbacks from raw red rice is that soaking is required before cooking, the texture of the cooked rice is hard to eat, and its nutrition is difficult to digest. These make it less favorable among society therefore it is not in a good sale so far, resulting in low revenue of the organic rice farmers. Therefore, this program was initiated to enrich the quality of red rice products through adding a step into the milling process which is milling using sugawa machine to remove the hard husks. The final product expected from the program was organic embryo red rice that is easy for cooking, soft textured cooked rice, and digestable rice in order to increase the chance of optimal nutrition absorption to the body. Among several solutions offered in the program include supplying and testing a milling machine, production training and guidance, socializing and marketing. The first solution administered was supplying and testing a Sugawa machine to mill raw rice into embryo red and brown rice. Then, it was followed by providing a Sugawa pressure cooker tool to mix derived product from the materials used such as embryo rice and bran, that is embryo porridge and bran cereal. The training conducted in the program contains guidance for applying the SOP of producing embryo rice and its derivatives. While socialization was administered specifically to the board and partners of Gapoktan Al-Barokah, village government, field trainers, and muspika (council for local government) of Wonosari aiming to achieve a collective and sustainable movement, as well as a group of patients of degenerative illnesses from Community Health Center of Wonosari. Finally, it was followed by marketing that was performed during the socialization by providing samples of embryo red rice, embryo brown rice, and its derivatives. The embryo rice was packaged in a 1kg-vacuum bag, labelled with Botanik Beras Embrio Merah and Botanik Beras Embrio Coklat and thereby distributed to nearby stores around Wonosari subdistrict area.

Eric Barnard was a protein biochemist who played a leading role in the delineation of the molecular components of neuromuscular transmission and the emergence of molecular neuroscience as a scientific discipline. He began his career at King's College London, moving to the State University of Buffalo, New York, in 1965 before returning to Imperial College, London, in 1975. In 1985 he became the Director of the Medical Research Council (MRC) Molecular Neurobiology Unit in Cambridge. Upon retirement from the MRC, he moved to the Royal Free Hospital in London where he continued as Director of Molecular Neurobiology, but in 1998 returned to the University of Cambridge (Department of Pharmacology) as Emeritus Professor. In 2014, at the age of 86, he finally retired from active research. Although Eric was elected FRS for his early pioneering work on the protein chemistry of enzymes and the nicotinic acetylcholine receptor, his seminal contribution, initiated during his time at Imperial, was the application of molecular biological methods to the study of many neurotransmitter receptors. With Ricardo Miledi FRS (and later David Brown FRS and colleagues), he developed the Xenopus oocyte system for the expression of receptors from total tissue mRNA. His was the first group to clone a neurotransmitter receptor subunit cDNA, the nicotinic acetylcholine receptor α subunit of Torpedo marmorata . This was followed by purification and subsequent cloning of inhibitory γ-aminobutyric acid (GABA) A receptor subunit cDNAs. This achievement, driven by Eric and aided by his collaborator Peter Seeburg, led to the discovery of the ligand-gated ion channel superfamily, the discovery of neurotransmitter receptor heterogeneity, and the development of concepts of receptor families and superfamilies. His pioneering work was pivotal for the foundation of modern central nervous system drug discovery.

Lygodium japonicum (Thunb.) Swartz (Family, Schizaeaceae) is naturally distributed from Asia to Australia and has naturalized in the United States from Texas to the Carolinas and Florida (4). Recently, it has been declared a Category I weed (the most invasive group) by the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council. A foliar rust fungus was observed on a population of L. japonicum growing under the canopy of a pine/hardwood forest in Gainesville, FL. The lower surfaces of almost all the pinnules (foliage) were covered with cinnamon-brown eruptive pustules. Necrotic areas developed around mature, erupted, and coalesced pustules. Severely infected foliage were wilted and dried. Microscopic observations of the pustules and spore morphology revealed these eruptive structures to be uredinia. The dimensions (24.6 [+ 2.2] × 29.7 [+ 3.5] μm) and morphology (ellipsoid or obovoid, pale cinnamon-brown, and echinulate with indistinct pores) of urediniospore were similar to those reported for Puccinia lygodii (Har.) Arth. (Uredinales) (1). Therefore, the rust was identified as P. lygodii and confirmed by J. Hennen. P. lygodii is native to South America, where it has been recorded from L. volubile and L. venustum (2). This rust was previously identified as Milesia and Uredinopsis spp. on L. japonicum from Louisiana and Florida, respectively (3). Herein, we report the performance of Koch's postulates for P. lygodii on L. japonicum. Excised foliage bearing uredinia from plants collected near Gainesville were placed in a flask, flooded with deionized distilled water, shaken vigorously for a few minutes, and the suspension strained through four layers of cheesecloth. Urediniospores suspended in the filtrate were concentrated to 1.0 × 106 spores/ml, using sedimentation technique, and then misted onto 3-week-old foliage of fully expanded fronds of four juvenile L. japonicum plants grown in pots, until the foliage were completely wet. The plants were then covered with a plastic bag and placed in dappled shade. After 3 days, the bags were removed and the water-filled containers were placed around L. japonicum plants to maintain high ambient humidity. During the remaining 4-week experimental period, the temperature and relative humidity under the shaded areas ranged from 23 to 38°C and 38 to 93%, respectively. The plants were monitored daily for development of symptoms characteristics of P. lygodii. Minute cinnamon-brown flecks appeared on the foliage 20 days after inoculation. Within 3 to 5 days, these flecked areas expanded, erupted, and formed uredinia on the lower surface of the symptomatic foliage. The morphology and size range of the uredinia and urediniospores were the same as those of the P. lygodii applied in this test. This is the first report confirming pathogenicity of P. lygodii on L. japonicum. P. lygodii may be a potential biological control agent of L. japonicum in the Southeast United States. References: (1) J. C. Arthur. Bull. Torrey Club 51:55, 1924. (2) J. F. Hennen and J. W. McCain. Mycologia 85:970–986, 1993. (3) J. W. McCain, J. F. Hennen, and Y. Ono. Mycotaxon 39:281–300, 1990. (4) R. W. Pemberton and A. P. Ferriter. Am. Fern J. 88:165–175, 1998.

Objective: to analyze the epidemiological, sociodemographic and clinical profile of men in Rondônia, Western Amazonia (Brazil), diagnosed with the main types of cancer, during a period of 2 (two) years. Materials and Methods: it is an epidemiological, descriptive, cross-sectional and quantitative study, with the systematization of primary data according to the methodological model recommended by Paraguassu-Chaves et al [6]. We used an instrument developed by Paraguassu-Chaves et al [5], semi-structured composed of a series of epidemiological, clinical and sociodemographic variables. The research project is in compliance with Resolution 196/96 of the National Health Council of Brazil, taking into account the ethical aspects of research in Brazil. Main results: the 10 (ten) main types of cancer diagnosed by the location of the primary tumor in men were analyzed, corresponding to 1,163 (74.9%) cases of cancer in men, over a period of 2 (two) years. The 10 (ten) most common types of cancer in men were: prostate (30.9%), non-melanoma skin (22.9%), stomach (11.7%), bronchi and lungs (6.7%), colon (5.8%), leukemia (5.8%), esophagus (4.4%), central nervous system (4.2%), rectum (3.9%) and bladder (3.6%). The age group of 50 to 79 years old reaches 76.4% of the 10 main types of cancer in men. They are more frequent in brown (64.6%) and white (28%) men and with low education. 73.2% of men with cancer are married. 44.9% of men with cancer work in agriculture. 45.6% of men with cancer have a family history of cancer. The sum of smokers and ex-smokers reaches a relative frequency of 43.7%. 19.5% consume alcoholic beverages and 17.2% are ex-consumers. In 40.1%, "other isolated therapeutic procedures" were applied in the first treatment. 14.2% of diagnosed patients died from the disease. Conclusions: The scenario of cancer projection in men in Rondônia is worrying and requires an urgent redirection of actions and strategies for cancer prevention, control, assistance and treatment.

The development of cost-effective electrocatalysts for polymer electrolyte membrane fuel cells (PEM fuel cells) is essential for the widespread use of this technology. The high cost and limited availability of Pt-group metals (PGMs) used as catalyst materials are the main barriers to the widespread commercialization and development of PEM fuel cells. [1] Therefore, the use of high surface area and effective catalysts without Pt have gained great importance in PEM fuel cells. This study introduces high surface area electrocatalysts that are free of platinum group metals (non-PGM) consisting of iron-nitrogen-carbon (Fe-N-C). Here, the uniform distribution of Fe was achieved using graphene oxide (GO) nanoparticles to enhance the catalyst's performance for oxygen reduction reaction (ORR). [2] Furthermore, the addition of a small amount of cerium oxide (CeO2) nanoparticles to the catalyst layer helps to prevent the degradation of the catalyst and ionomer by preventing H2O2 formation as well as increasing the ORR activity due to high oxygen storage capacity. [3] Initially, GO is synthesized by improved Hummer’s method. The GO nanoparticles are obtained through a process involving ball-milling and acid treatment. These nanoparticles are then thermally reduced and nitrogen-doped to form nitrogen-doped reduced graphene oxide nanoparticles. Fe-N-C complexes are synthesized by reacting these nanoparticles with FeCl2 precursor, which are then hydrothermally treated to introduce CeO2 additives. The resulting catalysts are analyzed using various techniques (FT-IR, XPS, SEM, TEM, EDX) and display excellent electrochemical performance. The ORR activity of the Fe-N-C catalysts was investigated and compared with the electrocatalysts prepared with larger graphene oxide particles. A similar comparison is also made with and without CeO2 additives. The authors gratefully acknowledge the financial support of The Scientific and Technological Research Council of Turkey (TÜBİTAK) (Grant Number: 122M429) References [1] He, C., Desai, S., Brown, G., & Bolleplli, S. (2005). PEM fuel cell catalysts: Cost, performance, and durability. The electrochemical society Interface, 14(3), 41. [2] Weiss, J., Zhang, H., & Zelenay, P. (2020). Recent progress in the durability of Fe-NC oxygen reduction electrocatalysts for polymer electrolyte fuel cells. Journal of Electroanalytical Chemistry, 875, 114696. [3] Taşdemir, A., Iskandarani, B., Yürüm, A., Gürsel, S. A., & Kaplan, B. Y. (2021). CeO2 nanorod decorated NrGO additives for boosting PEMFC performance. International Journal of Hydrogen Energy, 46(63), 32250-32260.

BackgroundRheumatoid arthritis (RA) is associated with reduced bone mineral density and increased fracture risk. Bone sparing properties are reported for biological (b) disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs (DMARDs) (1), but previous studies have not found bDMARDs to reduce fracture risk [2]. Knowledge is sparce regarding fracture risk in individuals with RA using different types of DMARDs compared to the general population.ObjectivesTo investigate the effect of RA on fracture risk, and examine if bDMARD treatment influences this association.MethodsThe Trøndelag Health Study (HUNT) is a population-based longitudinal study in central Norway. We included all participants who had attended at least one of the latest three HUNT surveys, using the first participation as baseline. RA status was obtained by linkage to the patient records at the regional hospital using International Classification of Disease codes (ICD9 and 10) for Major Osteoporotic Fractures (MOF), as well as further validation of medical records regarding date of RA diagnosis and use of DMARDs (divided into the following groups: never DMARDs, conventional synthetic(cs) DMARDs only, or ever bDMARDs). All RA diagnoses were validated according to American College of Rheumatology/ European League Against Rheumatism criteria[3]. RA status was registered at baseline and updated if RA was diagnosed later. Participants were followed until the first MOF, death, emigration, or end of follow-up on 21.10.2021. Cox regression was used to estimate hazard ratios (HR) for MOF in RA participants in general and by treatment group, compared to the people without RA. Confounders were identified using directed acyclic graphs (DAGs) and included sex, age at inclusion and smoking status at baseline.ResultsIn total, 96,354 participants were included, 1,033 with RA (mean age 55.5 years, 65.8% women) and 95,321without RA (mean age 46.3 years, 53.0% women). Overall, 401 participants were diagnosed with RA before inclusion in HUNT and 632 during follow-up.Table 1.RA independent of treatment was associated with almost 50% increased risk of MOF compared to non-RA (HR 1.44). By treatment group, never DMARDs had highest risk of MOF, followed by csDMARDs. Treatment with bDMARDs was not associated with MOF. Incidence rates (IR) per 1000 person-years were higher in RA overall and in all DMARD treatment groups compared to non-RA.ParticipantsMOFUnadjustedAdjustednnIR95% CIHRHR95 % CINon-RA95,32110,5037.06.9-7.2RA independent of treatment1,03322118.015.8-20.52.351.441.25-1.65RA treatment groupNever DMARDs571733.420.7-53.74.422.051.28-3.31csDMARDs only72717520.517.7-23.82.681.501.29-1.75Ever bDMARDs230278.86.0-12.81.131.030.70-1.50Adjusted for age at inclusion, sex, and smoking status at baseline. CI: confidence interval. DMARDs group missing for 19 RA participants including 2 individuals with a MOF.ConclusionRA was associated with MOF. However, in RA individuals treated with bDMARDs, an association with MOF was not seen. This is an encouraging result and might be of importance when evaluation future treatment regiments in this patient group.References[1]Chen J-F, Hsu C-Y, Yu S-F, Ko C-H, Chiu W-C, Lai H-M, et al. The impact of long-term biologics/target therapy on bone mineral density in rheumatoid arthritis: a propensity score-matched analysis. Rheumatology. 2020;59(9):2471-80.[2]Shao F, Li HC, Wang MJ, Cui CM. Impact of biologic disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs on fracture risk in patients with rheumatoid arthritis: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Eur Rev Med Pharmacol Sci. 2021;25(9):3416-24.[3]Videm V, Thomas R, Brown MA, Hoff M. Self-reported diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis or ankylosing spondylitis has low accuracy: Data from the Nord-Trøndelag Health Study. J Rheumatol. 2017;44(8):1134-41.AcknowledgementsThe Trøndelag Health Study (HUNT) is a collaboration between HUNT Research Centre (Faculty of Medicine and Health Sciences, NTNU - Norwegian University of Science and Technology), Trøndelag County Council, Central Norway Regional Health Authority, and the Norwegian Institute of Public Health.We want to thank clinicians and other employees at Nord-Trøndelag Hospital Trust for their support and for contributing to data collection.Disclosure of InterestsIngebjørg Tronstad: None declared, Mari Hoff: None declared, Julie Horn: None declared, Sigrid Anna Vikjord: None declared, Vibeke Videm: None declared, Tom Nilsen: None declared, Arnulf Langhammer Speakers bureau: Paid as speaker by AstraZeneca, Boehringer Ingelheim, Glaxo-Smith-Klein, Consultant of: Paid consultant for Boehringer Ingelheim and AstraZeneca.

o-Toluidine is a substance produced in large amounts and used in rubber, dyeing and pharmaceutical industries and in the production of herbicide and other chemical compounds. The estimated number of people occupationally exposed to o-toluidine in EU is 5500, half of them is employed in chemical industry in the production of chemical fibers and rubber products. In the conditions of occupational exposure, o-toluidine is absorbed by skin and by inhalation. Regardless of route of exposure this compound is excreted in urine. The effects of acute inhalation exposure to high concentrations (>25 mg/m3) of o-toluidine are irritation of upper respiratory tract, irritation of eyes and skin, which is manifested by face, eyes and pharynx burning, cough, shortness of breath, weakness, nausea, vomit, headache and dizziness, tinnitus, methemoglobinemia, hematuria and hemorrhagic cystitis. In epidemiological studies, the mostly analyzed group of substances was aromatic amines (including o-toluidine). Available data mainly refer to exposure in dyeing and rubber industries. Described effects of chronic exposure are methemoglobinemia, hematuria and damage of bladder epithelium leading to malignant tumor of this organ. Carcinogenicity of o-toluidine was confirmed in tests on experimental animals, including rats and mice. Oral exposure to o-toluidine results in bladder cancer, primarily in female rats, to a lesser extent in male rats. In female rats F344 exposed to o-toluidine with feed, increase of the incidence of cancer from the bladder transitional cells was observed. Furthermore, in mice and rats fibromas and fibrosarcomas in subcutaneous tissue, angiomas and angiosarcomas in abdominal cavity and bladder, mesotheliomas of various organs, angiosarcomas in various organs, hepatocellular carcinomas and adenomas were observed. In experimental animals, o-toluidine exhibits moderate acute toxicity, LD50 values for intragastric administration are within the range 670–2951 mg/kg bw. In acute toxicity studies, rats exposed by inhalation to o-toluidine had cyanosis, contractions and muscle tremor, difficulty in breathing, red-brown rhinorrhea, corneal opacification, body weight loss, body temperature decrease, lethargy and extreme exhaustion. The effects of subchronic and chronic exposure of experimental animals to o-toluidine described in the literature include changes in the spleen, hematopoietic system, kidneys and bladder. Most of the mutagenicity tests in bacterial systems do not confirm mutagenicity of o-toluidine. A few works only described positive test result after metabolic activation. Both in vitro and in vivo studies confirmed induction of DNA damage by o-toluidine. o-Toluidine has harmonized classification in the EU as a category 1B carcinogen with assigned phrase H350 – may cause cancer. SCOEL experts classified it to group A of carcinogens, which means carcinogens with genotoxic properties. In Germany, DFG has ranked o-toluidine into category 1 of carcinogens, so substances that cause cancer in humans and substances that are believed to significantly affect the risk of cancer. IARC classified it into group 1, compounds with confirmed human carcinogenicity. On the basis of a quantitative assessment of the risk of cancer as a result of occupational exposure, it has been estimated that at a 40-year exposure period to o-toluidine at a concentration of 1 mg/m3, the additional risk of bladder cancer ranges from 2.4–3.1 · 10-4 (depending on the estimation method). The values of the determining exposure limits of o-toluidine applicable in the EU member states and in the world are 0.5–0.9 mg/m3; 4.5–8.8 mg/m3 and 22 mg/m3. In Poland, the applicable OEL value is 3 mg/m3. In SCOEL, no BOELV had been proposed, considering o-toluidine as a genotoxic carcinogen. Directive 2017/2398 of the European Parliament and of the Council (EU) of 12 December 2017 amending Directive 2004/37/EC on the protection of workers from the risks related to exposure to carcinogens or mutagens at work, a concentration of 0.5 mg/m3 was adopted (0.1 ppm) as a binding value for o-toluidine (based on socio-economic analysis, environmental risk assessment and risk of bladder cancer in professionally exposed workers). It has been proposed to reduce the OEL value of o-toluidine to 0.5 mg/m3, which will affect a nearly tenfold reduction in the risk of bladder cancer workers. In addition, according to CSI (Chief Sanitary Inspectorate) data in Poland, no exposure to o-toluidine in concentrations >3 mg/m3 and >1.5 mg/m3 (0.5 OEL values) have been found in years 2015–2016, while in conditions of exposure to concentrations from within the range of 0.3–1.5 mg/m3 (0.1 ÷ 0.5 of the OEL value), a dozen or so people only worked. There is no basis for determining the short-term exposure limit value (STEL). As a value of biological exposure index (BEI) of o-toluidine, it has been proposed to leave 2% level of the MetHb in the blood. The standard was labeled “skin” (the absorption of substances through the skin may be as important as in inhalation) and “Carc. 1B” (carcinogenic substance of category 1B).

An artful Facebook post after a research event, a spinning circle held at a state heritage listed former mill, is used to explore the intersection of craftivism and the politics around the future of this site. This article takes a new materialism approach to explore the dynamic interactions (intra-actions) and shifting power relations around place (territorialisations). Both the spinning circle and the post were a gentle activism, or as Greer (12) describes it, craftivism, whose essence lies in ‘creating something that gets people to ask questions’. In 2018, I conducted the research event, the Spinning Circle at the Mill, inviting the Spinners, Weavers, and Fibre Artisans of Ipswich group to hold a spinning circle at the former Queensland Woollen Manufacturing Company, now an empty factory space on the state’s heritage list. The event was part of a larger piece of research considering the generative nature of heritage. As the fibre artists worked, we yarned about their connections with the mill-site, its largely female workforce, and imagined what the future might hold for this heritage place. Before the day’s events started, I was busy arranging a table for the morning tea and setting out some artefacts and books that participants had brought. I noticed a few of the fibre artists wandering around the factory with a spinning wheel. I wasn’t quite sure what they were doing, and called them back a couple of times, worried everyone would wander off into the cavernous mill space. They returned, eventually, and we got on with the session. After the event, one artist, Mieke den Otter, shared a post Facebook (see fig. 1). When I saw the post, I laughed out loud – and it has haunted me. Her curation of the text and carefully placed wheel in the post’s photograph negotiated time, space and political boundaries with warmth and humour. Here in the realm of Facebook was a piece of data that “glowed”, exerting “a kind of fascination”, that animates further thought (MacLure 228). Social media posts are performative – they affect. Images created and shared extend what heritage sites can do – provoking, expressing new perspectives, and challenging narratives playfully though art. Posts shift conversations. Fig. 1: Facebook post from the Spinning Circle at the Mill. What does this Facebook post create? What does this assemblage, this intentional cutting-together of [spinning wheel-graffiti – woollen mill heritage – Facebook – photograph – post text] do? Methods, Materialities, and Entanglements This article uses a new materialism methodological framing to consider the dynamics of the events. It draws on Barad’s concepts of agential cuts – the intra-actions of elements cut ‘together-apart’, forming together and separating from others. Barad (Meeting 168) describes the dynamics of intra-actions as diffractions. Diffractions conjure up rippled waves crossing over, each disrupting the other, creating new patterns, the two waves changed and inseparable through the transition and never the same after. Barad’s term ‘intra-action’ considers the changes and inseparability occurring through interactions. Deleuze and Guattari‘s consideration of the dynamism of assemblages is also useful for thinking through craftivism. Their work offers two key pairings here: the interplay of materiality with expression, and the way physical and political territories are inhabited, highlighting the dynamic relations of power (territorialisations) that constantly challenge the boundaries. These views into the data help us discern what craft and craftivism can do, physically and through its presence on social media. We’ll start with the crafters’ physical presence at the mill. Ten members of the Spinners, Weavers, and Fibre Artists of Ipswich participated in the Spinning Circle, plus a Council Heritage officer. Two colleagues assisted me with sound recording and photographs. The event occurred 46 years after the mill closed its doors in 1971, having manufactured textiles for ninety-four years. The event was conducted under ethics approval (GU 2017/763), and I have permission from Mieke to write about her Facebook post. The spinning event at the mill was inspired by the go-along method (Kusenbach), which recognises the potential of accessing lived experiences in situ. The circle could be called a go-along focus group. What I was tapping into was the spinners encountering the empty mill: not their ‘natural environment’ but a space they emotionally connected with through their craft. Some had worked at one of the city’s woollen mills, and all were aware of the mills as part of the heritage of Ipswich. I further drew on the work of Edensor in recognising affects produced by walking through industrial ruins, decentring everyday divisions between past and present. I wanted the spinners to be affected by this unfamiliar space, in helping them consider what the space could be. We started by walking the mill site, becoming absorbed in both its emptiness and the haunting presences as a Council heritage officer and I guided them through the spaces. The two participants who had worked at other Ipswich mills shared some of their stories as we walked. Then the spinners sat in a circle to spin, knit, craft, and yarn, and it became a focus group where we imagined possible mill futures. Weavings and Intra-Actions of an Image The interplay of materiality and expression is a co-functioning of things, relations, languages, words, and meanings (Anderson and McFarlane). The point is awareness of what is being produced and understanding the conditions and intra-actions enabling and embedded in its production. Delving into the materialities draws other “entanglements” (Barad) – influences operating at a distance, often in a different space or temporality. Through entanglements, a complex web of phenomena emerges as elements come together and are set apart. Entanglements may be sensed rather than seen, felt rather than thought. Assemblages and their entities are not static, but act at various intensities and rhythms, affecting each other. Considering these dynamics as intra-actions emphasises that actions affect all that are connected though an event, blurring boundaries: there is no separation. In the Facebook post’s image, the physical spinning wheel has become part of the graffiti and graffiti part of the wheel, intra-acting, changing both, expressing something new. The intra-action extends to those setting up the image, photographing, observing, then the larger audience on Facebook. Affects flow and ripple through intra-actions across time, all the way to writing this article and beyond. The photo composition was purposeful; the position carefully sought out. The spinning wheel in its material expression is a modern tower wheel – compact for travel – and is used by many spinners. It expresses that the craft is alive and well, and its technologies are evolving. The wheel design, while modern, harks back to the seventeenth-century European adaption of this technology and to the cottage manufacture of textiles prior to the industrial revolution. No spinning wheels were present at the Ipswich mills. The industrial spinning mules and frames of the mill were about speed and volume. Hands worked the machines mainly to fix broken threads, not as a creative force as with a wheel, but rather to enable the machines to overcome their mechanical limitations. Bringing the wheels to the factory expresses a playful juxtaposition between manufacturing and crafting. After ceasing operations as a woollen mill in 1971, the building was used as plywood factory (Boral-Hancock Plywood) from 1984 until 2011 – it has been left empty since. Shortly after, the street artists ‘invaded’ creating this extensive graffiti gallery, which includes some standout-art artworks (see fig. 2). The background graffiti in the Facebook post shows a comfy lounge room, with sofa and TV. The graffiti expresses a scene totally anomalous to a hyper-heated, humid, noisy woollen mill or plywood factory. It possibly reflected the artist’s longing for some home comforts. The image also merged the artist’s presence with the graffiti. An earlier Facebook post about the day mentioned the artists seeking shelter and squatting at the mill. Around the factory the occasional cat image appears, just as a cat might. I’m not sure if they are a house cat, or a factory cat to deal with rodents, but they express comfort, and are likely by the same artist (see fig. 3). Fig. 2: An example of the range of graffiti at the mill. Image by Joan Kelly 2018. Fig. 3: An example of a cat drawn at the mill. Image by J. Hanley 2017. The text of the spinning wheel post is also deeply resonant: ‘every home needs a wheel’installation at the Old mill site The post’s text conjures pictures of homes with a spinning wheel at the ready. For a time, in pre-industrial Europe, spinning wheels were a necessary household item for clothing one’s own family and to make a living. Especially in agricultural districts, many families needed a wheel, and spinners worked long hours for economic survival (Pinchbeck). Clearly, today, other than for textile crafters, a spinning wheel is not a general item needed for the home – it’s a poignant joke that is created. Terming the wheel placement “an installation” elevates the assemblage of wheel and graffiti both as serious artwork and a production. Beyond that, the post works as a subtle form of activism. At the time of the visit to the mill, the site was undergoing conservation work and was not available for public use. To be in the space was exceptional: the was asserting the artist’s presence and staking a claim to the territory on behalf of the artists of Ipswich. Re/De-Territorialisations Territorialisations are the dynamics of the shifting boundaries of belonging and exclusion, power and subversion. Every assemblage carves out territory from the milieux, in this case the physical mill space, its former use as a textile mill, the circle participants and its physicality: to understand the assemblage is to understand the territoriality it envelops (Deleuze and Guattari). The former mill site is a politically contentious place. The mill was acquired by Ipswich City Council in 2015 (Queensland Government). The large riverside lot is close to the CBD, and adjacent to a sports field. The site was designated as a youth recreation centre in Council’s Open Space Strategic Master Plan (Ipswich City Council). Previously, the former mayor had promised the space as an arts hub (Queensland Times). However, by the time of our spinning circle, the mayor was up on corruption charges (Snowdon and Walsh), the whole council was under administration (Johnson), and the site was in a state of stasis. Based on conversations and gatherings, to this day the arts community claims the mill space as theirs despite Council reallocations. They want an arts hub, and they want it at the mill. Through the forces of re-territorialisation and de-territorialisation, assemblages change as elements, forms, and structures materialise and recede (Duff). The mill territory has suffered many disruptions. Re-territorialisation is the action by the owner, or holder of power in a space, to manage or reaffirm control. DeLanda uses the term ‘stabilisation’ but, depending on context, other terms can assist to understand re-territorialisation: take possession, colonisation, exert power over. The mill is currently Council territory by ownership, and Council’s activities of re-territorialisation – maintaining the territory, are planning, maintenance, and heritage conservation work. The added complexity in ownership at the time of the research event was that Council had itself been re-territorialised by the State Government administrators, however it still acts as the ‘Council’ entity. De-territorialisation is the disruptive action by those dominated, marginalised, or excluded in their efforts to exert a different kind of power. DeLanda terms this ‘destabilisation’, and other words might be to agitate, unsettle, upset, reclaim. These acts are not necessarily done by a unified group, and the array of elements acting can change the nature of destabilisation. At the mill, different community groups were interested in this territory, including street artists, crafters, and performing artists. The mill graffiti covering the walls are also de-territorialisations, attempting to take control of a space. The spectre of the street artists was a persistent backdrop to all activities on the day. Graves-Brown and Schofield discuss how the graffiti in a heritage site linked to the Sex Pistols punk band conjures a feeling of the band members’ presence as unruly ghosts, lounging on sofas, scribbling on walls. At the mill site, the street art at times overpowers. The emptiness of the factory floor accentuates both their art and the artists’ missing presence. There was even an alcove where spray cans were left on a ledge (see fig. 4). It gave a sense of having disturbed their workspace and that they had hastily run off. But who are the intruders here? Whose territory is this space? Considering the dynamics of territorialisations opens the politics of place, and contentions of ownership. It’s as if there is always some residue of past territorialisations, ready to be tapped, as the Facebook post has done. Fig. 4: Spray cans in an alcove at the mill. Image by Joan Kelly 2018. In the mill’s time of abandonment (2011–2015), the street artists had managed to not only disrupt and de-territorialise the factory, but had re-territorialised the space completely, in a sense owning it; their presence more pervasive than the former workers, and, for now, more enduring. The creation of the image was an intra-action turning the lounge graffiti into a different piece of art, and through the Facebook post, it became an act of craftivism and poetry. The spinning wheel installation at the mill was a clear act of de-territorialisation, through expressing, ‘I was here’: I was here as a crafter, and member of the arts community, and I created an art installation. All this was expressed with a ‘soft voice’ through materiality, images, and words, in a clever, artful, ‘craftivistic’ way. During the spinning circle (see fig. 6), conversations arose about others who shared the mill territory. That we were meeting on Aboriginal country of people of the Yagara/Yugara Language Group (the Jagera, Yuggera, and Ugarapul People), land re-territorialised by European colonisers was acknowledged. Given the long history of First Nations peoples in the area, little is known of the textiles that were created. However, we discussed the kinds of Indigenous textiles that might have been made locally, as well as the skills that the Pacific Islander migrants of recent times have brought to Ipswich. The spinners imagined creating a dyers’ garden outside the mill. They evoked the excitement of dyeing days, “whenever you are walking you are gathering”, “always looking down”, and using the incredible range of colours available from indigenous plants. Entanglements across time emerged: plants and dye making connect the here and now with makers in the past, and different places. Discussions also focussed on the workers, particularly the large female workforce, and ways to honour their stories through a combination of museum and textile arts of various forms, including manufacturing and hand crafts. Fig. 5: The Spinning Circle focus group. There are often competing urges to de-territorialise heritage. Many will claim a place as their heritage – to emphasise their story, or perhaps transport it into the present. In the case of the mill site, Council mostly dominates, although as a state heritage site, there are territory boundaries between Council and the Queensland government. The graffiti here will be tolerated as far as those who own the territory will allow it. Eventually wall territory will be reclaimed from the street artists in making room for the new. At the time of writing, it had started to happen already. Many of the internal walls from the plywood factory time have been removed, including the image of sofa, lamp, and TV. It is no more. The spray cans have been binned. It makes the Facebook post even more haunting. There is still an overwhelmingly large graffiti presence, but it is already starting to feel contained, edited down. The arts community, though, are committed to making the space their own. Those who worked there have little voice, possibly none in the mill's becoming, however there is a sense of deep community respect for the workers and these places of work. Conclusion The spinning wheel Facebook post embraced craft, heritage and art. Considering a social media post as an assemblage, emphasising intra-actions highlights the temporality of relations between bodies and things. Their forms, and what they express, accentuate the fragility through a moment captured in time. The re-territorialisations and de-territorialisations of the mill offer perspectives on what is being produced, recognising the forces at play. The mill site itself can be read in terms of the changes in territorialisations, and its dynamism over time: woollen mill company – plywood company – street artist domain – Council site being conserved – spinning circle (for the day) – Facebook post in moments of sharing – community mill sentiments. These are also entanglements of the site – influences at a distance and through different temporalities. The street artists initially were de-territorialising, disrupting the narrative of the mill, and for a year or two made it their own. Their enduring artwork helped engage the local arts community in claiming the mill spaces as their territory also; for a time capturing the political will of the Council’s former mayor. As the mayor’s fortune faded, so too did the hold over the territory by the arts community, the mill now re-territorialised by budgets and other priorities. Yet members of the arts community are determined to push their claims for the space. Coming together with the Ipswich spinners in situ as a research activity produced an embodied understanding through walking and yarning and feel for the space and its connections. The spinners owned the mill space for a few hours, bringing with them the sense of awe about the empty place and the richness it engendered. Their engagement with the space in situ and online served, for a time, to de-territorialise the space, plying threads from past and present with imaginings for the mill’s future. The Facebook form of craftivism, captured by the image and text of the post, seemed a natural progression from the day, a further disruption of the narrative. In determining potential futures for this space that are invigorating and respectful, Council will need the engagement of the myriad communities – the Yagara people, the former mill workers and former plywood workers connected to the site through often significant periods of employment, and communities of interest in Ipswich, like the Spinners and Weavers, who can bring new energy to the space. The future of the mill requires drawing together a living community that can bring the space to life. This Facebook craftivism is one provocation of a complex reimagining of the mill’s heritage futures – it’s a wave, small but able to diffract and create new patterns of conversation. References Anderson, Ben, and Colin McFarlane. "Assemblage and Geography." Area 43.2 (2011): 124-27. Barad, Karen. Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning. Durham: Duke UP, 2007. ———. "Diffracting Diffraction: Cutting Together-Apart." Diffracted Worlds – Diffractive Readings 18 Oct. 2018: 4-23. DeLanda, Manuel. A New Philosophy of Society: Assemblage Theory and Social Complexity. Hampshire: Continuum, 2006. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987. Duff, Cameron. "Assemblages, Territories, Contexts." International Journal of Drug Policy 33 (2016): 15-20. Edensor, Tim. "Walking through Ruins." Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot. Eds. T. Ingold and J.L. Vergunst. UK: Ashgate Aldershot, 2008. 123-42. Frederick, Ursula K. "Revolution Is the New Black: Graffiti/Art and Mark-Making Practices." Archaeologies 5.2 (2009): 210-37. Graves-Brown, Paul, and John Schofield. "The Filth and the Fury: 6 Denmark Street (London) and the Sex Pistols." Antiquity 85.330 (2011): 1385-401. Greer, Betsy. Craftivism : The Art of Craft and Activism. 2014. Johnson, Hayden. "Ipswich Crisis: Councillors Stunned by News of Dismissal." The Queensland Times 4 May 2018. Ipswich City Council. Open Space Strategic Master Plan. Ipswich: Ipswich City Council, 2018. Kusenbach, Margarethe. "Street Phenomenology: The Go-Along as Ethnographic Research Tool." Ethnography 4.3 (2003): 455-85. MacLure, Maggie. "The Wonder of Data." Cultural Studies? Critical Methodologies 13.4 (2013): 228-32. McIvor, Lachlan. "Woollen Mills Unused Six Years after Council Purchase." Queensland Times 19 Feb. 2021. Pinchbeck, Ivy. Women Workers and the Industrial Revolution. New York: F.S. Crofts, 1930. Queensland Government. "Queensland Heritage Register." Brisbane: Queensland Government, 2016. Queensland Times. "Mayor to Activate Arts Hub." Queensland Times 18 Mar. 2016. Snowdon, T., and L. Walsh. "Paul Pisasale Charged with Corruption, Possession of Sex Drug." Courier Mail 11 Oct. 2017.

Bouchard, David. Rainbow Crow – Nagweyaabi-Aandeg. Markham, ON: Red Deer Press, 2012 Print and CD-ROM.David Bouchard is a best-selling Métis author who has received literary awards and the Order of Canada. This volume is a retelling of the Lenape myth of how crows became black and acquired their raspy voices. The story is printed in English and Ojibwe. The accompanying CD-ROM is read in English, French (Bouchard) and Ojibwe (Jason Jones) with background music by the Paris-based Ecuadorian group, Manantial. The recordings are high quality and the readings clear and easy to understand. In the English reading, Bouchard incorporates some dramatic reading and changes of voice for different animals.Bouchard opens the book with a description of the appropriate protocol for storytelling. He asks listeners to sit in a circle, on the earth or floor. The story comes from a time before people, when the winters were very cold and the animals thought that they might perish. They send little Crow, a small bird with rainbow-coloured feathers and a beautiful song, to visit the Creator to get help. The Creator gives her a burning branch to take back, and on the return trip she is burned. The Creator rewards her bravery and sacrifices with beautiful black feathers that shine with the colours of the rainbow, a strong family and burnt-tasting flesh so that no one will want to hunt her.In the story, traditional values emerge. We see the Council at work, deciding how to solve the problem and agreeing on who should go to the Creator. We see the exchange of gifts as a method of maintaining relationships and bravery and sacrifice for the community being honoured and rewarded. Throughout, the story is illustrated by the paintings of Toronto artist David Jean, done on traditional drums. The images take up one full page and spill over onto the facing text page. The whole book is grounded in a brown and beige colour palette that incorporates the natural colour variations of the skin on a drum. Highlight colours are used, for example in the crow’s rainbow feathers, but the colours are muted. Overall this is fine book from a master story teller, with the added bonus of the audio-CD. Because traditional stories contain lessons for the whole community, this book is of interest to all ages and the CD makes it accessible to all ages. Rainbow Crow is also available in French and is a wonderful addition to school and public libraries. Highly recommended: 4 stars out of 4 Reviewer: Sandy CampbellSandy is a Health Sciences Librarian at the University of Alberta, who has written hundreds of book reviews across many disciplines. Sandy thinks that sharing books with children is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give.

For almost 40 years, the British jurist and Fellow of the Royal Society Taylor White (1701–1772) actively engaged in commissioning artists to paint plants and animals for his ‘paper museum’. White amassed a collection of almost 1000 drawings of birds, mammals, fish, amphibians and reptiles, acquired by McGill University in 1927. His first recorded purchase was a watercolour by George Edwards (1694–1773). He also acquired works from Eleazar Albin ( fl. 1690– ca 1742) and Jacob van Huysum ( ca 1687–1740), but the majority of the watercolours were painted by two artists, Charles Collins ( ca 1680–1744) and Peter Paillou ( ca 1712–1782). In 2018 a research group at McGill University Library received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for the project ‘Undescrib'd: Taylor White's paper museum’. The project produced a complete catalogue of the White collection, including attribution of all unsigned works, and digitized all paintings and notes. This paper documents the process surrounding the original creation of the collection, reviewing the careers of the artists and White's relationship with them, the value of the commissions and the challenges of painting natural history subjects. It also describes the mechanics of painting, including pigments, papers used and artists' techniques.

PurposeThe purpose of this paper is to discuss findings from an Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC)-funded research project into the heritage culture of British folk tales. The project investigated how such archival source material might be made relevant to contemporary audience via processes of artistic remediation. The research considered artists as “cultural intermediaries”, i.e. as actors occupying the conceptual space between production and consumption in an artistic process.Design/methodology/approachInterview data is drawn from a range of 1‐2‐1 and group interviews with the artists. These interviews took place throughout the duration of the project.FindingsWhen artists are engaged in a process of remediation which has a distinct arts marketing/audience development focus, they begin to intermediate between themselves and the audience/consumer. Artist perceptions of their role as “professionals of qualification” is determined by the subjective disposition required by the market context in operation at the time (in the case of this project, as commissioned artists working to a brief). Artists’ ability (and indeed willingness) to engage in this process is to a great extent proscribed by their “sense-of-self-as-artist” and an engagement with Romantic ideas of artistic autonomy.Originality/valueA consideration of the relationship between cultural intermediation and both cultural policy and arts marketing. The artist-as-intermediary role, undertaking creative processes to mediate how goods are perceived by others, enables value-adding processes to be undertaken at the point of remediation, rather than at the stage of intermediation.

This paper explores a Black music therapist’s experience within Turbulence, a therapeutic performance piece developed by Black and brown creative arts therapists and theatre artists in the Greater New York City area. The author shares her own personal experiences and reactions as a participant, process actor, musician, and music therapist within this group process. An examination of the integration of music within the performance will also be shared, particularly in terms of how certain music traditions can be used to elevate the expression of those with identities that have been historically marginalized. Additionally, this paper explores how social identity-based affinity groups supported by a creative process can decrease feelings of isolation and bolster a sense of empowerment amongst BPOC-identifying creative arts therapists.

Greetings Everyone,The news for this new year’s issue consists mainly of a list of a major children’s literature awards that have been announced, as well as a few upcoming conferences.AWARDS2017 ALSC (Association for Library Service to Children) Book and Media Award WinnersJohn Newberry MedalThe Girl Who Drank the Moon Written by Kelly Barnhill and published by Algonquin Young Readers, an imprint of Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, a division of Workman PublishingNewberry Honour BooksFreedom Over Me: Eleven Slaves, Their Lives and Dreams Brought to Life by Ashley Bryan written and illustrated by Ashley Bryan and published by Atheneum Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing DivisionThe Inquisitor’s Tale: Or, The Three Magical Children and Their Holy Dog written by Adam Gidwitz, illustrated by Hatem Aly and published by Dutton Children's Books, Penguin Young Readers Group, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLCWolf Hollow written by Lauren Wolk and published by Dutton Children's Books, Penguin Young Readers Group, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLCRandolph Caldecott MedalRadiant Child: The Story of Young Artist Jean-Michel Basquiat illustrated by Javaka Steptoe, written by Javaka Steptoe and published by Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.Caldecot Honour BooksDu Iz Tak? illustrated and written by Carson Ellis, and published by Candlewick PressFreedom in Congo Square illustrated by R. Gregory Christie, written by Carole Boston Weatherford and published by Little Bee Books, an imprint of Bonnier Publishing GroupLeave Me Alone! illustrated and written by Vera Brosgol and published by Roaring Brook Press, a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited PartnershipThey All Saw a Cat illustrated and written by Brendan Wenzel and published by Chronicle Books LLCLaura Ingalls Wilder AwardNikki Grimes -- Her award-winning works include “Bronx Masquerade,” recipient of the Coretta Scott King Author Award in 2003, and “Words with Wings,” the recipient of a Coretta Scott King Author Honor in 2014. Grimes is also the recipient of the Virginia Hamilton Literary Award in 2016 and the NCTE (National Council of Teachers of English) Award for Excellence in Poetry for Children in 2006.2018 May Hill Arbuthnot Honor AwardNaomi Shihab Nye will deliver the 2018 May Hill Arbuthnot Honor Lecture.Mildred L. Batchelder AwardCry, Heart, But Never Break - Originally published in Danish in 2001 as “Græd blot hjerte,” the book was written by Glenn Ringtved, illustrated by Charolotte Pardi, translated by Robert Moulthrop and published by Enchanted Lion Books.Batchelder Honour BooksAs Time Went By published by NorthSouth Books, Inc., written and illustrated by José Sanabria and translated from the German by Audrey HallOver the Ocean published by Chronicle Books LLC, written and illustrated by Taro Gomi and translated from the Japanese by Taylor NormanPura Belpre (Author) AwardJuana & Lucas written by Juana Medina, is the Pura Belpré Author Award winner. The book is illustrated by Juana Medina and published by Candlewick PressPura Belpre (Illustrator) AwardLowriders to the Center of the Earth illustrated by Raúl Gonzalez, written by Cathy Camper and published by Chronicle Books LLCAndrew Carnegie MedalRyan Swenar Dreamscape Media, LLC, producer of “Drum Dream Girl: How One Girl’s Courage Changed Music”Theodor Seuss Geisel AwardWe Are Growing: A Mo Willems’ Elephant & Piggie Like Reading! Book written by Laurie Keller. The book is published by Hyperion Books for Children, an imprint of Disney Book GroupRobert F. Sibert Informational Book MedalMarch: Book Three written by John Lewis and Andrew Aydin and illustrated by Nate Powell, published by Top Shelf Productions, an imprint of IDW Publishing, a division of Idea and Design Works LLC Stonewall Book Awards - ALA Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Round Table (GLBTRT)Mike Morgan & Larry Romans Children’s & Young Adult Literature AwardIf I Was Your Girl written by Meredith Russo and published by Flatiron BooksMagnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard: The Hammer of Thor written by Rick Riordan and published by Disney Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book GroupHonor BooksPride: Celebrating Diversity & Community written by Robin Stevenson and published by Orca Book PublishersUnbecoming written by Jenny Downham and published by Scholastic Inc. by arrangement with David Fickling BooksWhen the Moon Was Ours written by Anna-Marie McLemore and published by Thomas Dunne Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Press2017 Children’s Literature Association Phoenix AwardsPhoenix Award 2017Wish Me Luck by James Heneghan Farrar Straus Giroux, 1997Phoenix Honor Books 2017Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman HarperCollins, 1997Habibi by Naomi Shihab Nye Simon & Schuster, 19972017 Phoenix Picture Book AwardTell Me a Season by Mary McKenna Siddals & Petra Mathers Clarion Books, 1997One Grain of Rice: A Mathematical Tale by Demi Scholastic, 1997 CONFERENCESMarchSerendipity 2017: From Beginning to End (Life, Death, and Everything In Between) The Vancouver Children’s Literature Roundtable Mar. 4, 2017 | 8am to 3:30 pm | UBC Ike Barber LibraryJuneChildren’s Literature Association ConferenceHosted by the University of South Florida June 22-24, 2017 Tampa, FL Hilton Tampa Downtown Hotel Conference Theme: Imagined FuturesJulyInternational Research Society for Children’s Literature (IRSCL) Congress 2017 – Toronto July 29 - August 2, 2017 Keele Campus, York University The Congress theme is “Possible & Impossible Children: Intersections of Children’s Literature & Childhood Studies." That is all for this issue. Best wishes!Hanne Pearce, Communication Editor

The article is devoted to one of the directions of the art of post-modernism - street art, which became widespread in Kharkiv at the turn of the 20th - 21st centuries. This type of modern art quickly won the sympathy of city residents and found its supporters in a large group of young innovative artists (both professionals and amateurs, both individual authors and creative teams) who work in this style. The creation of murals quickly transformed from spontaneous work to managed by the city government, which supported this kind of change in urban decor. Kharkiv street art has come a long way in its formation: from the mysterious inscriptions of Oleg Mitasov to Ukraine’s largest mural depiction of the poet Taras Shevchenko. The article highlights the procedure for creating a mural image. At the turn of the XX-XXI centuries the first mural portraits in Kharkiv were created spontaneously, outside of any general urban development plan. In recent years, first, the city architectural department, and then the Department of Culture of the Kharkiv City Council, took control of such works and such activities became more focused and planned. Artists come to the Department of Urban Planning and Architecture of the Kharkiv City Council with the initiative to create a mural on a particular house and provide its sketch. That is, the artists themselves choose the image that will be created. In order for such an image to be created, it is first necessary to coordinate this issue with the owners of the house on which the image is planned to be placed. At the same time, a problem arises as to who will support the drawing after its creation, because the money for its possible restoration by the city budget is not provided, and some of the murals already need updating. The most characteristic examples of this art in Kharkiv are considered, several of its types are distinguished. It is concluded that, in general, street art positively influenced the appearance of the city, which became more vivid and filled with new meanings and content. It is noted that murals and graffiti perform not only a decorative, but also a cultural and educational role. The main characters of Kharkiv murals are natives of the city and prominent figures who have made a significant contribution to world art, science and literature.

ABSTRACT Objective: to identify the epidemiological profile of victims who suffered sexual violence, in Anápolis - Goiás - Brazil, between the years 2017 to 2020. Methods: descriptive study of quantitative nature. Data from the notification form of sexual violence registered in the Department of Epidemiological Surveillance were used. Chi-square test was used with a significance level of 5% (p<0.05). Results: 850 cases were notified, with the peak in 2020, 82.1% were female, between the age group of two to 10 years (42.2%), brown (61.2%) and single (37.1%). The main conduct carried out after sexual violence was blood collection (21.6%); the main aggressors were the parents (20.9%), the main type of sexual violence was rape (68.7%) and the victims were mainly referred to the Guardianship Council (48.2%). Conclusion: The results point to the need to strengthen interventions to expand the social protection network for children and adolescents.

In 2014-15 Hamilton Health Sciences (HHS), with supportive funding from the Ontario Arts Council, partnered with a local group of professional artists to develop a curriculum called Awakening Your Creative Power: a seminar series on creativity, compassion and play. In order to understand the feasibility and impact of this arts-based curriculum for healthcare personnel working within a hospital, HHS undertook a comprehensive program evaluation. Input from participants who attended the course was obtained in three ways: (1) weekly evaluation forms at the end of each session (2) a final evaluation that asked questions about the overall seminar series, and (3) a focus group discussion held 2 weeks after the seminar series ended. This paper reports on the outcomes of the evaluation and the evolution of the curriculum over the past 3 years, including its impacts on both participants and the arts partners. The evaluation data demonstrate that the course was successful in meeting its stated objectives which include: enhancing interpersonal skills, fostering self-reflection, deepening compassion, cultivating resilience, recognizing creative potential, applying intention and coping with daily stresses through the power of play. In addition, the course also: increased self-awareness, fostered a sense of community, emphasized the value of creativity for its own sake, empowered participants, provided participants with a sense of accomplishment and made participants feel valued by the institution. The paper concludes with some reflections on the potential of engaging arts professionals in health professional education.

BackgroundTelephone cognitive–behaviour therapy (TCBT) may be a cost-effective method for improving access to evidence-based treatment for obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) in young people.AimsEconomic evaluation of TCBT compared with face-to-face CBT for OCD in young people.MethodRandomised non-inferiority trial comparing TCBT with face-to-face CBT for 72 young people (aged 11 to 18) with a diagnosis of OCD. Cost-effectiveness at 12-month follow-up was explored in terms of the primary clinical outcome (Children's Yale-Brown Obsessive-Compulsive Scale, CY-BOCS) and quality-adjusted life-years (QALYs) (trial registration: ISRCTN27070832).ResultsTotal health and social care costs were higher for face-to-face CBT (mean total cost £2965, s.d. = £1548) than TCBT (mean total cost £2475, s.d. = £1024) but this difference was non-significant (P = 0.118). There were no significant between-group differences in QALYs or the CY-BOCS and there was strong evidence to support the clinical non-inferiority of TCBT. Cost-effectiveness analysis suggests a 74% probability that face-to-face CBT is cost-effective compared with TCBT in terms of QALYs, but the result was less clear in terms of CY-BOCS, with TCBT being the preferred option at low levels of willingness to pay and the probability of either intervention being cost-effective at higher levels of willingness to pay being around 50%.ConclusionsAlthough cost-effectiveness of TCBT was sensitive to the outcome measure used, TCBT should be considered a clinically non-inferior alternative when access to standard clinic-based CBT is limited, or when patient preference is expressed.Declaration of interestD.M.-C. reports research grants from the Swedish Research Council (Vetenskapsrådet), the Swedish Research Council for Health, working life and welfare (Forte), the US National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), the UK National Institute of Health Research (NIHR), as well as royalties from Wolters Kluwer Health and Elsevier, all unrelated to the submitted work.

This paper aims to describe the similarities and differences in fungal laryngitis’ clinical characteristics, endoscopic, and stroboscopic imaging between patients with positive and non-positive fungal identification results. The study enrolled 48 patients diagnosed with fungal laryngitis by the Endoscopy Department in the National ENT Hospital of Vietnam from August 2019 to March 2020. The study results show that the patients in both groups had dysphonia (100%), with insignificant difference in the severity. However, the patients in the Positive group were more likely to go to hospital right in the first month of the symptom (55%), whereas the patients in the Non-positive group usually waited for more than 3 months (57.1%), (p<0.05). In endoscopic imaging, fungal pseudomembrane could be found mainly on the vocal cords in both groups, with instances spreading to the subglottis (15%) and trachea (5%) in the Positive group (p<0.05). The tissue layer of the patients in the Positive group was mostly inflamed, meanwhile the patients in the Non-positive group were more prone to swelling tissue (67.9%), (p<0.05). In stroboscopic imaging, the difference was minimal. The patients in the Positive group were more likely to lose the mucosal wave formation (60%) than in the Non-positive group (46.4%). There were also insignificant differences in the mucosal wave’s characteristics: asymmetry (50% in the Positive group; 66.7% in Non-positive group), diverse periodicity (50% in the Positive group; 33.3% in the Non-positive group). The paper concludes that there were differences between the two groups of patients and the clinical, endoscopic and stroboscopic findings, fungal identification should be further implemented for definitive diagnosis in patients with fungal laryngitis. Keywords Fungal laryngitis, dysphonia, endoscopic imaging, stroboscopic imaging, fungal identification. References [1] G.D. Brown, D.W. Denning, N.A.R. Gow, and S.M. Levitz, Hidden killers: Human fungal infections. SciTransl Med (4) (2012) 1-6. https://doi.org/10.1126/scitranslmed.3004404 [2] M. Pal, Veterinary and medical mycology. 1st ed. New Delhi: Indian Council of Agricultural Research, 2007.[3] H. Luong, Diagnosis and treatment in patients with fungal laryngitis, Doctoral thesis, Hanoi Medical University, 2004.[4] D. Thai, D. Nguyen, Diagnosis and treatment in fungal laryngitis, Ho Chi Minh Med 15(1) (2011) 222-227.[5] J. Guinea, and M. Torres - Narbona, Pulmonary aspergillosis in patients with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease: incidence, risk factors, and outcome. Clin Microbiol Infect. 16 (7) (2010) 870-877. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1469-0691.2009.03015.x[6] J.M. Wood, Theodore Anthanasiadis, and Jacqui Allen. 2009. Laryngitis. BMJ (349) (2009) 5827. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.g5827.[7] A. Chindamporn, A. Chakrabarti, and R. Li, Survey of laboratory practices for diagnosis of fungal infection in seven Asian countries: An Asia Fungal Working Group (AFWG) initiative, Med Mycol 56 (2018) 416 - 425. https://doi.org/ 10.1093/mmy/myx066 [8] R. Pribuisiene, V. Uloza, and P Kupcinskas, Perceptual and acoustic characteristics of voice changes in reflux laryngitis patients. J Voice 20 (1) (2006) 128 - 136. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jvoice.2004.12.001.

Abstract Introduction Interpersonal violence is a phenomenon that can occur with different people and conditions. However, people with intellectual disabilities have increased vulnerability to this problem, with potential risks to their health and well-being. The aim of this study was to identify the sociodemographic characteristics of people with disabilities who have been victims of interpersonal violence, the profile of the perpetrators and the measures taken after the victims have been cared for. Methods This is an exploratory, descriptive, cross-sectional study using the Interpersonal Violence Notification Forms entered into the Brazilian Ministry of Health’s Notifiable Diseases Information System. The city of São Paulo was chosen as the setting because it is the largest city in Latin America and has a faster data processing system than other cities. The period covered notifications made between 2016 and 2022. The information was collected between October and November 2023 and a univariate statistical analysis was carried out. Fisher’s exact test was used, with a significance level of 5% (α = 0.05). Results There were 4,603 notifications against people with intellectual disabilities in the period. The forms of physical violence, neglect/abandonment and psychological/moral violence were more frequent in the 15–19 age group, while sexual violence was more frequent in the 10–14 age group (p < 0.001). The sex most often attacked was female in all the forms investigated (p < 0.001) and the skin colors of the most victimized people were black and/or brown, except in cases of neglect/abandonment (p = 0.058). Most of the victims had little schooling (p = 0.012). The aggressions were committed by one person (p < 0.001), known or related to the victim, such as mother or father, except in cases of sexual violence, where strangers were the main perpetrators (p < 0.001). The sex of the perpetrator was male, except in cases of neglect and/or abandonment (p < 0.001), and the age was between 25 and 29 (p = 0.004). In cases of sexual violence, rape was the most frequent and the procedures carried out were blood collection followed by prophylaxis for Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs) were the main procedures carried out by health professionals (p = 0.004). The majority of referrals made after receiving care were to the health and social assistance network, with few referrals to bodies such as the human rights reference center, guardianship council and police stations (p < 0.001). Conclusion People with intellectual disabilities are highly vulnerable to the forms of violence studied, especially children and adolescents, black or brown, with low levels of education. The perpetrators are usually close people, male and older than the victims. The referrals made by health professionals did not prioritize the victim’s safety and the guarantee of human rights. Lines of care for the health of victims of violence should be implemented, taking into account special aspects, such as people with intellectual disabilities, whose search for help can be difficult.

Briefs and Hot Brown Honey are two Brisbane based companies producing genre-bending work combining different mixes of circus, burlesque, hiphop, dance, boylesque, performance art, rap and drag. The two companies produce provocative performance that is entertaining and draws critical acclaim. However, what is particularly distinctive about these two companies is that they are both founded and directed by performers from Samoan cultural backgrounds who have leap-frogged over the normative whiteness of much contemporary Australian performance. Both companies have a radical political agenda. This essay argues that through the presentation of diverse alternative bodies, not only through the performing bodies presented on stage but also in the corporate bodies of the companies they have set up, they profoundly challenge the structure of the Australian performance industry and contribute a radical re-envisaging of the potential of circus to act as a vital political force.Briefs was co-founded by Creative Director, Samoan, Fez Fa’anana with his brother Natano Fa’anana in 2008. An experienced dancer and physical theatre performer, Fa’anana describes the company’s performances as the “dysfunctional marriage of theatre, circus, dance, drag and burlesque with the simplicity of a variety show format” (“On the Couch”). As Fa’anana’s alter ego, “the beautiful bearded Samoan ringmistress Shivannah says, describing The Second Coming, the Briefs show at the Sydney Festival 2017, the show is ‘A little bit butch with a f*** load of camp’” (Lavers). The show involves “extreme costume changes, extravagant birdbath boylesque, too close for comfort yo-yo tricks and more than one highly inappropriate banana” (“Briefs: The Second Coming”).Briefs is an all-male company with gender-bending forming an integral part of the ethos. In The Second Coming the accepted sinuous image of the female performer entwining herself around the aerial hoop or lyra is subverted with the act featuring instead a male contortionist performing the same seductive moves with silky smooth sensuousness. Another example of gender bending in the show is the Dita Von Teese number performed by a male performer in a birdbath filled with water with a trapeze suspended over the top of it. Perhaps the most sensational example of alternative bodies in the show is “the moment when performer Dallas Dellaforce, wearing a nude body stocking with a female body drawn onto it, and an enormously long, curly white-blond wig blown by a wind machine, stands like a high camp Botticelli Venus rising up out of the stage” (Lavers). The highly visible body of Fez Fa’anana as the gender-bending Samoan ringmistress challenges the pervasive whiteness in contemporary circus. Although there has been some discourse on the issue of whiteness within the context of Australian theatre, for example Lee Lewis arguing for an aggressive approach to cross-racial casting to combat the whiteness of Australian theatre and TV (Lewis), there has however been very little discussion of this issue within Australian contemporary circus. Mark St Leon’s discussion of historical attitudes to Aboriginal performers in Australian circus is a notable exception (St Leon).This issue remains widely unacknowledged, an aspect of whiteness that social geographers Audrey Kobashi and Linda Peake identify in their writing, whiteness is indicated less by its explicit racism than by the fact that it ignores, or even denies, racist indications. It occupies central ground by deracializing and normalizing common events and beliefs, giving them legitimacy as part of a moral system depicted as natural and universal. (Kobayashi and Peake 394)As film studies scholar, Richard Dyer writes,the invisibility of whiteness as a racial position in white (which is to say dominant) discourse is of a piece with its ubiquity … In fact for most of the time white people speak about nothing but white people, it’s just that we couch it in terms of ‘people’ in general. Research – into books, museums, the press, advertising, films, television, software – repeatedly shows that in Western representation whites are overwhelmingly and disproportionately predominant, have the central and elaborated roles, and above all, are placed as the norm, the ordinary, the standard. Whites are everywhere in representation … At the level of racial representation, in other words, whites are not of a certain race, they’re just the human race. (3)Dyer writes in conclusion that “white people need to learn to see themselves as white, to see their particularity. In other words whiteness needs to be made strange” (541). This applies in particular to contemporary circus. In a recent interview with the authors, ex-Circus Oz Artistic Director and CEO, Mike Finch, commented, “You could make an all-round entertaining family circus show with [racial] diversity represented and I believe that would be a deeply subversive act in a way in contemporary Australia” (Finch).Today in contemporary Australian circus very few racially diverse bodies can be seen and almost no Indigenous performers and this fact goes largely unremarked upon. In spite of there being Indigenous cultures within Australia that celebrate physical achievement, clowning and performance, there seem to be few pathways into professional circus for Indigenous athletes or artists. Although a considerable spread of social circus programs exists across Australia working with Indigenous youth at risk, there seem to be few structures in place to facilitate the transitioning between these social circus classes and entry into circus training programs or professional companies. Since 2012 Circus Oz has set up the program Blakflip to mentor and support young Indigenous performers to try and redress this problem. This has led to two graduates of the program moving on to perform with the company, namely Dale Woodbridge Brown and Ghenoa Gella, and also led to the mentorship and support of several students in gaining entry into the National Institute of Circus Arts in Melbourne. Circus Oz has also now appointed an Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Program Officer, Davey Thomson, who is working to develop networks between past and present participants in the Blakflip program and to strengthen links with Indigenous Communities. However, it could be argued that Fez Fa’anana with Briefs has in fact leapfrogged over these programs aimed at addressing the whiteness in contemporary circus. As a Samoan Australian performer he has not only co-founded his own contemporary performance company in which he takes the central performing role, but has now also established another company called Briefs Factory, which is a creative production house that develops, presents, produces and manages artists and productions, and now at any one time employs around 20 people. In terms of his performative physical presence on stage, in an interview in 2015, Fa’anana described his performance alter ego, Shivannah, as the “love child of the bearded lady and ring master.” In the same interview he also described himself tellingly as “a Samoan (who is not a security guard, football player nor a KFC cashier),” and as “an Australian … a legal immigrant” (“On the Couch”). The radical racial difference that the alternative body of Shivannah the ringmistress presents in performance is also constantly reinforced by Fa’anana’s repartee. At the beginning of the show he urges the audience “to put their feet flat on the floor and acknowledge the earth and how lucky we are to be in this beautiful country that for 200 years now has been called Australia” (Fa’anana). Comments about his Samoan ancestry are sprinkled throughout the show and are delivered with a light touch, constantly making the audience laugh. At one point in the show resplendent in a sequined costume, Fa’anana stands downstage in front of two performers on their knees cleaning up the mess left on the stage from the act before, and he says, “Finally, I’ve made it! I’ve got a couple of white boys cleaning up after me” (Fa’anana). In another part of the show, alluding to white stereotypes of Indigenous performers, Fa’anana thanks the drag artist who taught him how to put his drag make-up on, saying “I used to put my make-up on with a burnt stick before he showed me how to do it” (Fa’anana).In his book on critical pedagogy, political activist and scholar Peter McLaren writes on approaches to developing the means to resist and subvert pervasive whiteness, saying, “To resist whiteness means developing a politics of difference […] we need to re-think difference and identity outside a set of binary oppositions. We need to view identity as coalitional, as collective, as processual, as grounded in the struggle for social justice” (213). One example of how identity outside binary oppositions was explored in The Second Coming was in an act by drag artist Dallas Dellaforce, who dressedin a sumptuous fifties evening dress with pink balloon breasts rising out of the top of his low cut evening dress and wearing a Marilyn Monroe blonde wig, camped it up as a fifties coquette, flipping from sultry into a totally scary horror tantrum, before returning to coquette mode with the husky phrase, ‘I love you.’ When at the end of the song, stripped naked, sporting a shaved bald head and wearing only a suggestive long thin pink balloon, the full potential of camp to reveal different layers of artifice and constructed identity was revealed. (Lavers)Fez Fa’anana comments at the end of the show that The Second Coming was not aimed at any particular group of people, but instead aimed to “celebrate being human.” However, if this is the case, Fa’anana is demanding an extended definition of being human that through the inclusion of diverse alternative bodies pushes for a new understandings of what constitutes being human and how human identity can be construed. His work demands an understanding that is not oppositional nor grounded in binary opposition to normative whiteness but instead forms part of a re-thinking of human identity through alternative bodies that are presented as processual, and deeply grounded in the struggle for the social justice issue of acceptance of difference and alternatives.Hot Brown Honey is another Brisbane based company working with circus in conjunction with other forms such as burlesque, hip hop, and cabaret. The all-female company was recently awarded the UK 2016 Total Theatre Award for Innovation, Experimentation and Playing with Form. The company was co-founded by dancer and choreographer Lisa Fa’alafi, who is from the same Samoan family as Fez and Natano Fa’anana, with sound designer Kim “Busty Beatz” Bowers, a successful hip hop artist, poet and record producer. From the beginning Hot Brown Honey was envisaged as providing a performance space for women of colour. Lisa Fa’alafi says the company was formed to address the lack of performance opportunities available, “It’s plain knowledge that there are limited roles for people of colour, let alone women of colour” (quoted in Northover).Lyn Gardner, arts critic for The Guardian in the UK, describing Hot Brown Honey’s performance, writes that the company fights “gender and racial stereotypes with a raucous glee, while giving a feminist makeover to circus, hip-hop and burlesque” (Gardner). The company includes women mainly “of Indigenous, Pacific Islander and Indonesian heritage taking on colonialism, sexism, gender stereotypes and racism through often confronting performance and humour; their tagline is ‘fighting the power never tasted so sweet’” (Northover).In their show Hot Brown Honey present a straps act. Straps is a physically demanding aerial circus act that requires great upper body strength and is usually performed by male aerialists. However, in the Hot Brown Honey show gender expectations are subverted with the straps act performed by a female aerialist. Gardner writes of the performance of this straps act at the 2016 Edinburgh Festival Fringe as a “sequence that conjures the twisted moves of a woman trying to escape domestic violence,” and “One of the best circus sequences I’ve seen at this festival” (Gardner). Hula hoops, a traditionally female act, is also subverted and used to explore the stereotypes of the “exotic notion of Pacific culture” (Northover). Gardner writes of this act that the hoola hoops “are called into service to explore western tourists’ culture of entitlement”. Company co-founder Kim “Busty Beatz” Bowers, talks about the group’s approach to flipping perceptions of women of colour through investigating the power dynamics in gender relations, “We have a lot of flips around sexuality,” says Bowers. “Especially around the way people expect a black woman to be. We like to shift the exploitation and the power” (quoted in Northover).Another pressing issue that Hot Brown Honey address is a strange phenomenon apparent in much contemporary circus. In addition to the pervasive whiteness in contemporary circus, relatively few women are visible in many contemporary circus companies. Suzie Williams from Acrobatic Conundrum, the Seattle-based circus company, writes in her blog, “there are a lot of shows that feature many young, fit, exuberant guys and one flexible girl who performs a sensual/sentimental/romantic solo act” (Williams). Writing about Complètement Cirque, Montreal’s international circus festival which took place in July 2016, Williams says, “this year at the festival, my least favorite trend was … out of the 9 ticketed productions only one had more than one woman in it” (Williams, emphasis in original).Circus scholars have started to research this trend of lack of female representation both in contemporary circus schools and performance companies. “Gender in Circus Education: the institutionalization of stereotypes” was the title of a paper presented at the Circus and Its Others Conference in Montreal in July 2016 by Alisan Funk, a circus choreographer, teacher and director and an MA candidate at Concordia University in Montreal. Funk cited research from France showing that the educational programs and the industry are 70% male dominated. Although recreational programs in France have majority female populations, there appears to be a bottleneck at the level of entrance exams to superior schools. The few female students accepted to those schools are then frequently pushed towards solo aerial work (Funk). This push to solo aerial work means that the group floor work and acrobatics are often performed by men who create acrobatic groups that often then go on to form the basis for companies. (In this context the work of Circus Oz in this area needs to be acknowledged with the company having had a consistent policy over its 39 year existence of employing 50% female performers, however in the context of international contemporary circus this is increasingly rare).Williams writes in her blog about contemporary circus performance, “I want to see more women. I want to see women who look different from each other. I want to see so many women that no single women has to stand as a symbol of what all women can be” (Williams).Hot Brown Honey tackle the issue Williams raises head on, and they do it in the form of internationally award winning circus/cabaret that is all-female, where the bodies of the performers offer a radical alternative to the norms of contemporary circus and performance generally. The work shows women, a range of women performing circus-women of colour, with a wide range of bodies of varying shapes and sizes on stage. In Hot Brown Honey no single women in the show has to stand as a symbol of what all women can be. Briefs and Hot Brown Honey, through accessible yet political circus/cabaret, subvert the norms and institutionalized racial and gender-based biases inherent in contemporary circus both in Australia and internationally. By doing so these two companies have leap-frogged the normative presentation of performers in contemporary circus by speaking directly to a celebration of difference and diversity through the presentation of radical alternative bodies.ReferencesAlthusser, L. For Marx. Trans. Ben Brewster. London: Verso, 1965/2005.Beeby, J. “Briefs: The Second Coming – Jack Beeby Chats with Creative Director Fez Faanana.” Aussie Theatre 2015. <http://aussietheatre.com.au/features/briefs-the-second-coming-jack-beeby-chats-with-creative-director-fez-faanana>.“Briefs: The Second Coming.” Sydney Festival 2016. <http://www.sydneyfestival.org.au/2017/briefs>.Dyer, R. White: Essays on Race and Culture. New York: Routledge, 1997. Fa’anana, F. Repartee as Shivannah in The Second Coming by Briefs. Magic Mirrors Spiegeltent, Sydney Festival, 7 Jan. 2017. Performance.Finch, M. Personal communication. 13 Dec. 2016.Funk, A. “Gender in Circus Education: The Institutionalization of Stereotypes.” Paper presented at Circus and Its Others, July 2016.Gardner, L. “Shameless and Subversive: The Feminist Revolution Hits the Edinburgh Fringe.” The Guardian Theatre Blog 14 Aug. 2016. <https://www.theguardian.com/stage/theatreblog/2016/aug/14/feminist-revolution-edinburgh-stage-fringe-2016-burlesque>.Kyobashi A., and L. Peake. “Racism Out of Place: Thoughts on Whiteness and an Antiracist Geography in the New Millennium.” Annals of American Geographers 90.2 (2000): 392-403.Lavers, K. “Briefs: The Second Coming.” ArtsHub Reviews 2017. <http://performing.artshub.com.au/news-article/reviews/performing-arts/katie-lavers/briefs-the-second-coming-252936>.Lewis, L. Cross-Racial Casting: Changing the Face of Australian Theatre. Platform Papers No. 13. Strawberry Hills, NSW: Currency House, 2007. McLaren, P. Life in Schools: An Introduction to Critical Pedagogy in the Foundations of Education. 6th ed. New York: Routledge, 2016. McLaren, P., and R. Torres. “Racism and Multicultural Education: Rethinking ‘Race’ and ‘Whiteness’ in Late Capitalism.” Critical Multiculturalism: Rethinking Multicultural and Antiracist Education. Ed. S. May. Philadelphia, PA: Falmer Press, 1999. 42-76. Northover, K. “Melbourne International Comedy Festival: A Mix of Politically Infused Hip Hop and Cabaret.” Sydney Morning Herald 3 Apr. 2016. <http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/comedy/melbourne-international-comedy-festival-hot-brown-honey-a-mix-of-politicallyinfused-hiphop-and-cabaret-20160403-gnxazn.html>.“On the Couch with Fez Fa’anana.” Arts Review 2015. <http://artsreview.com.au/on-the-couch-with-fez-faanana/>.“Outrageous Boys’ Circus Briefs Is No Drag.” Daily Telegraph 2016. <http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/archive/specials/outrageous-boys-circus-briefs-is-no-drag/news-story/7d24aee1560666b4eca65af81ad19ff3>.St Leon, M. “Celebrated at First, Then Implied and Finally Denied.” The Routledge Circus Studies Reader. Eds. Katie Lavers and Peta Tait. London: Routledge, 2008/2016. 209-33. Williams, S. “Gender in Circus.” Acrobatic Conundrum 3 Aug. 2016. <http://www.acrobaticconundrum.com/blog/2016/8/3/gender-in-circus>.

AWARDSSome major international children’s literature awards have just been announced as I compile the news for this issue. Several of these have Canadian connections.2016 ALSC (Association for Library Service to Children) Book & Media Award WinnersJohn Newbery Medal"Last Stop on Market Street,” written by Matt de la Peña, illustrated by Christian Robinson and published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Books (USA) LLC Newbery Honor Books"The War that Saved My Life," written by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley and published by Dial Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Penguin Books (USA) LLC“Roller Girl,” written and illustrated by Victoria Jamieson and published by Dial Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Penguin Books (USA) LLC“Echo,” written by Pam Muñoz Ryan and published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.Randolph Caldecott Medal"Finding Winnie: The True Story of the World’s Most Famous Bear," illustrated by Sophie Blackall, written by Lindsay Mattick and published by Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.Caldecott Honor Books"Trombone Shorty," illustrated by Bryan Collier, written by Troy Andrews and published by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMS“Waiting,” illustrated and written by Kevin Henkes, published by Greenwillow Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers“Voice of Freedom Fannie Lou Hamer Spirit of the Civil Rights Movement,” illustrated by Ekua Holmes, written by Carole Boston Weatherford and published by Candlewick Press“Last Stop on Market Street,” illustrated by Christian Robinson, written by Matt de le Peña and published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Books (USA) LLC Laura Ingalls Wilder AwardJerry Pinkney -- His award-winning works include “The Lion and the Mouse,” recipient of the Caldecott Award in 2010. In addition, Pinkney has received five Caldecott Honor Awards, five Coretta Scott King Illustrator Awards, and four Coretta Scott King Illustrator Honors. 2017 May Hill Arbuthnot Honor Lecture AwardJacqueline Woodson will deliver the 2017 May Hill Arbuthnot Honor Lecture. Woodson is the 2014 National Book Award winner for her New York Times bestselling memoir, “Brown Girl Dreaming.” Mildred L. Batchelder Award“The Wonderful Fluffy Little Squishy,” published by Enchanted Lion Books, written and illustrated by Beatrice Alemagna, and translated from the French by Claudia Zoe BedrickBatchelder Honor Books“Adam and Thomas,” published by Seven Stories Press, written by Aharon Appelfeld, iIllustrated by Philippe Dumas and translated from the Hebrew by Jeffrey M. Green“Grandma Lives in a Perfume Village,” published by NorthSouth Books, an imprint of Nordsüd Verlag AG, written by Fang Suzhen, iIllustrated by Sonja Danowski and translated from the Chinese by Huang Xiumin“Written and Drawn by Henrietta,” published by TOON Books, an imprint of RAW Junior, LLC and written, illustrated, and translated from the Spanish by Liniers.Pura Belpre (Author) Award“Enchanted Air: Two Cultures, Two Wings: A Memoir," written by Margarita Engle and published by Atheneum Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing DivisionBelpre (Author) Honor Books"The Smoking Mirror," written by David Bowles and published by IFWG Publishing, Inc."Mango, Abuela, and Me," written by Meg Medina, illustrated by Angela Dominguez and published by Candlewick PressPura Belpre (Illustrator) Award"The Drum Dream Girl," illustrated by Rafael López, written by Margarita Engle and published by Houghton Mifflin HarcourtBelpre (Illustrator) Honor Books"My Tata’s Remedies = Los remedios de mi tata,” iIllustrated by Antonio Castro L., written by Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford and published by Cinco Puntos Press“Mango, Abuela, and Me,” illustrated by Angela Dominguez, written by Meg Medina and published by Candlewick Press“Funny Bones: Posada and His Day of the Dead Calaveras,” illustrated and written by Duncan Tonatiuh and published by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMSAndrew Carnegie Medal "That Is NOT a Good Idea," produced by Weston Woods Studios, Inc.Theodor Seuss Geisel Award"Don’t Throw It to Mo!" written by David A. Adler, illustrated by Sam Ricks and published by Penguin Young Readers, and imprint of Penguin Group (USA), LLCGeisel Honor Books "A Pig, a Fox, and a Box," written and illustrated by Jonathan Fenske and published by Penguin Young Readers, an Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) LLC"Supertruck," written and illustrated by Stephen Savage and published by A Neal Porter Book published by Roaring Brook Press, a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership"Waiting," written and illustrated by Kevin Henkes and published by Greenwillow Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.Odyssey Award"The War that Saved My Life," produced by Listening Library, an imprint of the Penguin Random House Audio Publishing Group, written by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley and narrated by Jayne EntwistleOdyssey Honor Audiobook"Echo," produced by Scholastic Audio / Paul R. Gagne, written by Pam Munoz Ryan and narrated by Mark Bramhall, David De Vries, MacLeod Andrews and Rebecca SolerRobert F. Sibert Informational Book Medal"Funny Bones: Posada and His Day of the Dead Calaveras,” written and illustrated by Duncan Tonatiuh and published by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMSSibert Honor Books"Drowned City: Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans," written and illustrated by Don Brown and published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt"The Boys Who Challenged Hitler: Knud Pedersen and the Churchill Club," by Phillip Hoose and published by Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers"Turning 15 on the Road to Freedom: My Story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March," written by Lynda Blackmon Lowery as told to Elspeth Leacock and Susan Buckley, illustrated by PJ Loughran and published by Dial Books, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) LLC"Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer, Spirit of the Civil Rights Movement," written by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Ekua Holmes and published by Candlewick PressCONFERENCES & EVENTSThis 2016 is shaping up to be a busy year for those of us involved with Canadian children’s literature. To tantalize your appetite (and encourage you to get involved) here are some highlights:January:Vancouver Children’s Literature Roundtable event: A Celebration of BC’s Award Children’s Authors and Illustrators with special guests Rachel Hartman and the Children’s Literature Roundtables of Canada 2015 Information Book Award winners Margriet Ruurs & Katherine Gibson, January 27, 2016, 7 – 9 pm. Creekside Community Centre, 1 Athletes Way, Vancouver. Free to members and students.April:Wordpower programs from the Young Alberta Book Society feature teams of Albertan children’s literary artists touring to schools in rural areas. Thanks to the generous sponsorship of Cenovus Energy, schools unable to book artist visits due to prohibitive travel costs are able to participate.April 4-8: Wordpower South will send 8 artist teams to communities roughly between Drumheller and Medicine Hat. Artists include Karen Bass, Lorna Shultz-Nicholson, Bethany Ellis, Marty Chan, Mary Hays, Sigmund Brouwer, Carolyn Fisher, Natasha DeenApril 25-29: Wordpower North will have a team of 8 artists traveling among communities in north-eastern Alberta such as Fort MacKay, Conklin, Wabasca, Lac La Biche, Cold Lake, and Bonnyville. The artists include Kathy Jessup, Lois Donovan, Deborah Miller, David Poulsen, Gail de Vos, Karen Spafford-Fitz, Hazel Hutchins, Georgia Graham May: COMICS AND CONTEMPORARY LITERACY: May 2, 2016; 8:30am - 4:30pm at the Rozsa Centre, University of Calgary. This is a one day conference featuring presentations and a workshop by leading authors, scholars, and illustrators from the world of comics and graphic novels. This conference is the 5th in the annual 'Linguistic Diversity and Language Policy' series sponsored by the Chair, English as an Additional Language, Werklund School of Education, University of Calgary. Tom Ricento is the current Chair-holder. The conference is free and lunch is provided. Seating is limited, so register early. The four presenters are:Jillian Tamaki, illustrator for This One Summer, and winner of the Governor General's Award for children's illustration.Richard van Camp, best-selling author of The Lesser Blessed and Three Feathers, and member of the Dogrib Nation.Dr. Nick Sousanis, post-doctoral scholar, teacher and creator of the philosophical comic Unflattening.Dr. Bart Beaty, University of Calgary professor, acclaimed comics scholar and author of Comics vs. Art TD Canadian Children’s Book Week 2016. In 2016, the Canadian Children's Book Centre celebrates 40 years of bringing great Canadian children's books to young readers across the country and the annual TD Canadian Children’s Book Week will be occurring this May across Canada. The theme this year is the celebration of these 40 years of great books written, illustrated and published in Canada as well as stories that have been told over the years. The 2016 tour of storytellers, authors and illustrators and their area of travel are as follows:Alberta: Bob Graham, storyteller; Kate Jaimet, authorBritish Columbia (Interior region) Lisa Dalrymple, author; (Lower Mainland region) Graham Ross, illustrator; (Vancouver Island region) Wesley King, author; (Northern region, Rebecca Bender, author & illustrator.Manitoba: Angela Misri, author; Allison Van Diepen, authorNew Brunswick: Mary Ann Lippiatt, storytellerNewfoundland: Maureen Fergus, authorLabrador: Sharon Jennings, authorNorthwest Territories: Geneviève Després, illustratorNova Scotia: Judith Graves, authorNunavut: Gabrielle Grimard, illustratorOntario: Karen Autio, author; Marty Chan, author; Danika Dinsmore, author; Kallie George, author; Doretta Groenendyk, author & illustrator; Alison Hughes, author; Margriet Ruurs, author.Prince Edward Island: Wallace Edwards, author & illustratorQuebec (English-language tour): LM Falcone, author; Simon Rose, author; Kean Soo, author & illustrator; Robin Stevenson, author; and Tiffany Stone, author/poet.Saskatchewan: (Saskatoon and northern area) Donna Dudinsky, storyteller; (Moose Jaw/Regina and southern area) Sarah Ellis, authorYukon: Vicki Grant, author-----Gail de Vos is an adjunct professor who teaches courses on Canadian children's literature, young adult literature, and comic books & graphic novels at the School of Library and Information Studies (SLIS) at the University of Alberta. She is the author of nine books on storytelling and folklore. Gail is also a professional storyteller who has taught the storytelling course at SLIS for over two decades.

IntroductionFestivals, according to Chris Gibson and John Connell, are like “glue”, temporarily sticking together various stakeholders, economic transactions, and networks (9). Australia’s First Nations peoples see festivals as an opportunity to display cultural vitality (Henry 586), and to challenge a history which has rendered them absent (587). The 2017 Australia Council for the Arts Showcasing Creativity report indicates that performing arts by First Nations peoples are under-represented in Australia’s mainstream venues and festivals (1). Large Aboriginal cultural festivals have long thrived in Australia’s northern half, but have been under-developed in the south. Each regional happening develops a cultural landscape connected to a long and intimate relationship with the natural environment.The Far South East coast and mountainous hinterland of New South Wales is rich in pristine landscapes that ground the Yuin and Monaro Nations to Country as the Monaroo Bobberrer Gadu (Peoples of the Mountains and the Sea). This article highlights cross-sector interaction between Koori and mainstream organisations in producing the Giiyong (Guy-Yoong/Welcoming) Festival. This, the first large festival to be held within the Yuin Nation, took place on Aboriginal-owned land at Jigamy, via Eden, on 22 September 2018. Emerging regional artists joined national headline acts, most notably No Fixed Address (one of the earliest Aboriginal bands to break into the Australian mainstream music industry), and hip-hop artist Baker Boy (Danzal Baker, Young Australian of the Year 2019). The festival followed five years of sustained community preparation by South East Arts in association with Grow the Music, Twofold Aboriginal Corporation, the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council, and its Elders. We offer dual understandings of the Giiyong Festival: the viewpoints of a male Yuin Elder wedded to an Australian woman of European descent. We acknowledge, and rely upon, key information, statistics, and photographs provided by the staff of South East Arts including Andrew Gray (General Manager), Jasmin Williams (Aboriginal Creative and Cultural Engagement Officer and Giiyong Festival Project Manager), and Kate Howarth (Screen Industry Development Officer). We are also grateful to Wiradjuri woman Alison Simpson (Program Manager at Twofold Aboriginal Corporation) for valuable feedback. As community leaders from First Nations and non-First Nations backgrounds, Simpson and Williams complement each other’s talents for empowering Indigenous communities. They plan a 2020 follow-up event on the basis of the huge success of the 2018 festival.The case study is informed by our personal involvement with community. Since the general population barely comprehends the number and diversity of Australia’s Indigenous ‘nations’, the burgeoning Indigenous festival movement encourages First Nations and non-First Nations peoples alike to openly and confidently refer to the places they live in according to Indigenous names, practices, histories, and knowledge. Consequently, in the mental image of a map of the island-continent, the straight lines and names of state borders fade as the colours of the Indigenous ‘Countries’ (represented by David Horton’s wall map of 1996) come to the foreground. We reason that, in terms of ‘regionality,’ the festival’s expressions of “the agency of country” (Slater 141) differ vastly from the centre-periphery structure and logic of the Australian colony. There is no fixed centre to the mutual exchange of knowledge, culture, and experience in Aboriginal Australia. The broader implication of this article is that Indigenous cultural festivals allow First Nations peoples cultures—in moments of time—to assume precedence, that is to ‘stitch’ back together the notion of a continent made up of hundreds of countries, as against the exploitative structure of ‘hub and region’ colonial Australia.Festival Concepts and ContextsHoward Becker observed that cultural production results from an interplay between the person of the artist and a multitude of support personnel whose work is not frequently studied: “It is through this network of cooperation that the art work we eventually see or hear comes to be and continues to be” (1). In assisting arts and culture throughout the Bega Valley, Eurobodalla, and Snowy Monaro, South East Arts delivers positive achievements in the Aboriginal arts and cultural sector. Their outcomes are significant in the light of the dispossession, segregation, and discrimination experienced by Aboriginal Australians. Michael Young, assisted by Indigenous authors Ellen Mundy and Debbie Mundy, recorded how Delegate Reserve residents relocating to the coast were faced with having their lives controlled by a Wallaga Lake Reserve manager or with life on the fringes of the towns in shacks (2–3). But as discovered in the records, “their retention of traditional beliefs, values and customs, reveal that the accommodation they were forced to make with the Europeans did not mean they had surrendered. The proof of this is the persistence of their belief in the value of their culture” (3–4). The goal of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation is to create an inclusive place where Aboriginal people of the Twofold Bay Region can be proud of their heritage, connect with the local economy, and create a real future for their children. When Simpson told Williams of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation’s and Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council’s dream of housing a large cultural festival at Jigamy, Williams rigorously consulted local Indigenous organisations to build a shared sense of community ownership of the event. She promoted the festival as “a rare opportunity in our region to learn about Aboriginal culture and have access to a huge program of Aboriginal musicians, dancers, visual artists, authors, academics, storytellers, cooks, poets, creative producers, and films” (McKnight).‘Uncle Ossie’ Cruse of Eden envisaged that the welcoming event would enliven the longstanding caring and sharing ethos of the Yuin-Monaro people. Uncle Ossie was instrumental in establishing Jigamy’s majestic Monaroo Bobberrer Gudu Keeping Place with the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council in 1994. Built brick by brick by Indigenous workers, it is a centre for the teaching and celebration of Aboriginal culture, and for the preservation of artefacts. It represents the local community's determination to find their own solutions for “bridging the gap” by creating education and employment opportunities. The centre is also the gateway to the Bundian Way, the first Aboriginal pathway to be listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Festival Lead-Up EventsEden’s Indigenous students learn a revived South Coast language at Primary and Secondary School. In 2015, Uncle Ossie vitally informed their input into The Black Ducks, a hip-hop song filmed in Eden by Desert Pea Media. A notable event boosting Koori musical socialisation was a Giiyong Grow the Music spectacle performed at Jigamy on 28 October 2017. Grow the Music—co-founded by Lizzy Rutten and Emily White—specialises in mentoring Indigenous artists in remote areas using digital recording equipment. Eden Marine High School students co-directed the film Scars as part of a programme of events with South East Arts and the Giiyong Festival 2018. The Eden Place Project and Campbell Page also create links between in- and out-of-school activities. Eden’s Indigenous students thus perform confidently at NAIDOC Week celebrations and at various festivals. Preparation and PersonnelAn early decision was made to allow free entry to the Giiyong Festival in order to attract a maximum number of Indigenous families. The prospect necessitated in-kind support from Twofold Aboriginal Corporation staff. They galvanised over 100 volunteers to enhance the unique features of Jigamy, while Uncle Ossie slashed fields of bushes to prepare copious parking space. The festival site was spatially focused around two large stages dedicated to the memory of two strong supporters of cultural creativity: Aunty Doris Kirby, and Aunty Liddy Stewart (Image 1). Image 1: Uncle Ossie Cruse Welcomes Festival-Goers to Country on the Aunty Liddy Stewart Stage. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Cultural festivals are peaceful weapons in a continuing ontological political contest (Slater 144). In a panel discussion, Uncle Ossie explained and defended the Makarrata: the call for a First Nations Voice to be enshrined in the Constitution.Williams also contracted artists with a view to capturing the past and present achievements of Aboriginal music. Apart from her brilliant centrepiece acts No Fixed Address and Baker Boy, she attracted Pitjantjatjara singer Frank Yamma (Image 2), Yorta Yorta singer/songwriter Benny Walker, the Central Desert Docker River Band, and Jessie Lloyd’s nostalgic Mission Songs Project. These stellar acts were joined by Wallaga Lake performers Robbie Bundle, Warren Foster, and Alison Walker as well as Nathan Lygon (Eden), Chelsy Atkins (Pambula), Gabadoo (Bermagui), and Drifting Doolgahls (Nowra). Stage presentations were technologically transformed by the live broadcast of acts on large screens surrounding the platforms. Image 2: Singer-Songwriter Frank Yamma Performs at Giiyong Festival 2018. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Giiyong Music and Dance Music and dance form the staple components of Indigenous festivals: a reflection on the cultural strength of ancient ceremony. Hundreds of Yuin-Monaro people once attended great corroborees on Mumbulla Mountain (Horton 1235), and oral history recorded by Janet Mathews evidences ceremonies at Fishy Flats, Eden, in the 1850s. Today’s highly regarded community musicians and dancers perform the social arrangements of direct communication, sometimes including their children on stage as apprentices. But artists are still negotiating the power structures through which they experience belonging and detachment in the representation of their musical identity.Youth gain positive identities from participating alongside national headline acts—a form of learning that propels talented individuals into performing careers. The One Mob Dreaming Choir of Koori students from three local schools were a popular feature (Image 3), as were Eden Marine student soloists Nikai Stewart, and Nikea Brooks. Grow the Music in particular has enabled these youngsters to exhibit the roots of their culture in a deep and touching way that contributes to their life-long learning and development. Image 3: The One Mob Dreaming Choir, Directed by Corinne Gibbons (L) and Chelsy Atkins (R). Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts. Brydie-Leigh Bartleet describes how discourses of pride emerge when Indigenous Australian youth participate in hip-hop. At the Giiyong Festival the relationship between musical expression, cultural representation, and political positioning shone through the songs of Baker Boy and Gabadoo (Image 4). Channelling emotions into song, they led young audiences to engage with contemporary themes of Indigeneity. The drones launched above the carpark established a numerical figure close on 6,000 attendees, a third of whom were Indigenous. Extra teenagers arrived in time for Baker Boy’s evening performance (Williams), revealing the typical youthful audience composition associated with the hip-hop craze (Image 5).Image 4: Bermagui Resident Gabadoo Performs Hip-Hop at the Giiyong Festival. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Image 5: A Youthful Audience Enjoys Baker Boy’s Giiyong Festival Performance. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Wallaga Lake’s traditional Gulaga Dancers were joined by Bermagui’s Gadhu Dancers, Eden’s Duurunu Miru Dancers, and Narooma’s Djaadjawan Dancers. Sharon Mason founded Djaadjawan Dancers in 2015. Their cultural practice connects to the environment and Mingagia (Mother Earth). At their festival tent, dancers explained how they gather natural resources from Walbanja Country to hand-make traditional dance outfits, accessories, and craft. They collect nuts, seeds, and bark from the bush, body paint from ancient ochre pits, shells from beaches, and bird feathers from fresh roadkill. Duurunu Miru dancer/didjeriduist Nathan Lygon elaborates on the functions of the Far South East Coast dance performance tradition:Dance provides us with a platform, an opportunity to share our stories, our culture, and our way of being. It demonstrates a beautiful positivity—a feeling of connection, celebration, and inclusion. The community needs it. And our young people need a ‘space’ in which they can grow into the knowledge and practices of their culture. The festival also helped the wider community to learn more about these dimensions. (n.p.)While music and dance were at the heart of the festival, other traditional skills were included, for example the exhibitions mounted inside the Keeping Place featured a large number of visual artists. Traditional bush cooking took place near Lake Pambula, and yarn-ups, poetry, and readings were featured throughout the day. Cultural demonstrations in the Bunaan Ring (the Yuin name for a corroboree circle) included ‘Gum Leaf Playing.’ Robin Ryan explained how the Yuin’s use of cultural elements to entertain settlers (Cameron 79) led to the formation of the Wallaga Lake Gum Leaf Band. As the local custodian of this unique musical practice, Uncle Ossie performed items and conducted a workshop for numerous adults and children. Festival Feedback and Future PlanningThe Giiyong Festival gained huge Indigenous cultural capital. Feedback gleaned from artists, sponsors, supporters, volunteers, and audiences reflected on how—from the moment the day began—the spirit of so many performers and consumers gathered in one place took over. The festival’s success depended on its reception, for as Myers suggests: “It is the audience who create the response to performance and if the right chemistry is achieved the performers react and excel in their presentation” (59). The Bega District News, of 24 September 2018, described the “incredibly beautiful event” (n.p.), while Simpson enthused to the authors:I believe that the amount of people who came through the gates to attend the Giiyong Festival was a testament to the wider need and want for Aboriginal culture. Having almost double the population of Eden attend also highlights that this event was long overdue. (n.p.)Williams reported that the whole festival was “a giant exercise in the breaking down of walls. Some signed contracts for the first time, and all met their contracts professionally. National artists Baker Boy and No Fixed Address now keep in touch with us regularly” (Williams). Williams also expressed her delight that local artists are performing further afield this year, and that an awareness, recognition, and economic impact has been created for Jigamy, the Giiyong Festival, and Eden respectively:We believe that not only celebrating, but elevating these artists and Aboriginal culture, is one of the most important things South East Arts can do for the overall arts sector in the region. This work benefits artists, the economy and cultural tourism of the region. Most importantly it feeds our collective spirit, educates us, and creates a much richer place to live. (Giiyong Festival Report 1)Howarth received 150 responses to her post-event survey. All respondents felt welcome, included, and willing to attend another festival. One commented, “not even one piece of rubbish on the ground.” Vanessa Milton, ABC Open Producer for South East NSW, wrote: “Down to the tiniest detail it was so obvious that you understood the community, the audience, the performers and how to bring everyone together. What a coup to pull off this event, and what a gift to our region” (Giiyong Festival Report 4).The total running cost for the event was $257,533, including $209,606 in government grants from local, state, and federal agencies. Major donor Create NSW Regional Partnerships funded over $100,000, and State Aboriginal Affairs gave $6,000. Key corporate sponsors included Bendigo Bank, Snowy Hydro and Waterway Constructions, Local Land Services Bega, and the Eden Fisherman’s Club. Funding covered artists’ fees, staging, the hiring of toilets, and multiple generators, including delivery costs. South East Arts were satisfied with the funding amount: each time a new donation arrived they were able to invite more performers (Giiyong Festival Report 2; Gray; Williams). South East Arts now need to prove they have the leadership capacity, financial self-sufficiency, and material resources to produce another festival. They are planning 2020 will be similar to 2018, provided Twofold Aboriginal Corporation can provide extra support. Since South East Arts exists to service a wider area of NSW, they envisage that by 2024, they would hand over the festival to Twofold Aboriginal Corporation (Gray; Williams). Forthcoming festivals will not rotate around other venues because the Giiyong concept was developed Indigenously at Jigamy, and “Jigamy has the vibe” (Williams). Uncle Ossie insists that the Yuin-Monaro feel comfortable being connected to Country that once had a traditional campsite on the east side. Evaluation and ConclusionAlthough ostensibly intended for entertainment, large Aboriginal festivals significantly benefit the educational, political, and socio-economic landscape of contemporary Indigenous life. The cultural outpourings and dissemination of knowledges at the 2018 Giiyong Festival testified to the resilience of the Yuin-Monaro people. In contributing to the processes of Reconciliation and Recognition, the event privileged the performing arts as a peaceful—yet powerful truth-telling means—for dealing with the state. Performers representing the cultures of far-flung ancestral lands contributed to the reimagining of a First Nations people’s map representing hundreds of 'Countries.’It would be beneficial for the Far South East region to perpetuate the Giiyong Festival. It energised all those involved. But it took years of preparation and a vast network of cooperating people to create the feeling which made the 2018 festival unique. Uncle Ossie now sees aspects of the old sharing culture of his people springing back to life to mould the quality of life for families. Furthermore, the popular arts cultures are enhancing the quality of life for Eden youth. As the cross-sector efforts of stakeholders and volunteers so amply proved, a family-friendly, drug and alcohol-free event of the magnitude of the Giiyong Festival injects new growth into an Aboriginal arts industry designed for the future creative landscape of the whole South East region. AcknowledgementsMany thanks to Andrew Gray and Jasmin Williams for supplying a copy of the 2018 Giiyong Festival Report. We appreciated prompt responses to queries from Jasmin Williams, and from our editor Rachel Franks. We are humbly indebted to our two reviewers for their expert direction.ReferencesAustralian Government. Showcasing Creativity: Programming and Presenting First Nations Performing Arts. Australia Council for the Arts Report, 8 Mar. 2017. 20 May 2019 <https://tnn.org.au/2017/03/showcasing-creativity-programming-and-presenting-first-nations-performing-arts-australia-council/>.Bartleet, Brydie-Leigh. “‘Pride in Self, Pride in Community, Pride in Culture’: The Role of Stylin’ Up in Fostering Indigenous Community and Identity.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. New York: Routledge, 2014.Becker, Howard S. Art Worlds. 25th anniversary edition. Berkeley: U of California P, 2008.Brown, Bill. “The Monaroo Bubberer [Bobberer] Gudu Keeping Place: A Symbol of Aboriginal Self-determination.” ABC South East NSW, 9 Jul. 2015. 20 May 2019 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2015/07/09/4270480.htm>.Cameron, Stuart. "An Investigation of the History of the Aborigines of the Far South Coast of NSW in the 19th Century." PhD Thesis. Canberra: Australian National U, 1987. Desert Pea Media. The Black Ducks “People of the Mountains and the Sea.” <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fbJNHAdbkg>.“Festival Fanfare.” Eden Magnet 28 June 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <edenmagnet.com.au>.Gibson, Chris, and John Connell. Music Festivals and Regional Development in Australia. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012.Gray, Andrew. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Henry, Rosita. “Festivals.” The Oxford Companion to Aboriginal Art and Culture. Eds. Syvia Kleinert and Margot Neale. South Melbourne: Oxford UP, 586–87.Horton, David R. “Yuin.” Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia. Ed. David R. Horton. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 1994.———. Aboriginal Australia Wall Map Compiled by David Horton. Aboriginal Studies Press, 1996.Lygon, Nathan. Personal Communication, 20 May 2019.Mathews, Janet. Albert Thomas Mentions the Leaf Bands That Used to Play in the Old Days. Cassette recorded at Wreck Bay, NSW on 9 July 1964 for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders (AIATSIS). LAA1013. McKnight, Albert. “Giiyong Festival the First of Its Kind in Yuin Nation.” Bega District News 17 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5649214/giiyong-festival-the-first-of-its-kind-in-yuin-nation/?cs=7523#slide=2>. ———. “Giiyong Festival Celebrates Diverse, Enduring Cultures.” Bega District News 24 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5662590/giiyong-festival-celebrates-diverse-enduring-cultures-photos-videos/>.Myers, Doug. “The Fifth Festival of Pacific Arts.” Australian Aboriginal Studies 1 (1989): 59–62.Simpson, Alison. Personal Communication, 9 Apr. 2019.Slater, Lisa. “Sovereign Bodies: Australian Indigenous Cultural Festivals and Flourishing Lifeworlds.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. London: Ashgate, 2014. 131–46.South East Arts. "Giiyong Festival Report." Bega: South East Arts, 2018.———. Giiyong Grow the Music. Poster for Event Produced on Saturday, 28 Oct. 2017. Bega: South East Arts, 2017.Williams, Jasmin. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Young, Michael, with Ellen, and Debbie Mundy. The Aboriginal People of the Monaro: A Documentary History. Sydney: NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, 2000.

Abstract The WHO has reported that mental health disorders are a leading cause of disability worldwide, and the gaps in access to treatment, especially in low resourced settings, are a global public health issue. Refugees and migrants are disproportionately negatively impacted by factors contributing to mental health disorders barriers to care. Although considerable advances have been made in the development of MHPSS interventions, the efficacy and sustainability of these strategies depends largely on the ability to provide effective educational and training programs preparing and incentivizing future students needed to design, implement, and deliver MHPSS services. This roundtable discussion convenes individuals working across public, private, and academic sectors to explore novel partnerships seeking to scale up and transform mental health education to support refugees and forcibly displaced migrants. Panelists will discuss multi sector and institutional collaborations are needed to address such large-scale mental health gaps. In addition, this panel will discuss recent projects expanding curricular development, educational and research partnerships, and the development of pedagogical tools for professionals working in the mental health field, undergraduate and graduate students, faculty, and community partners. Anne Jachmann, a member of the Migration and Medicine research division of the Emergency Department of the University of Bern, has been studying and development of new practices to reduce barriers to diagnosis and the development of early interventions for asylum seekers in the Emergency Room. Adam Brown is a Clinical Psychologist and Director of the Trauma and Global Mental Health Lab. He will be discussing new initiatives and partnership in New York City and Latin America to scale up clinical treatment and research capacity for refugee and immigrant communities. Maria Hoen is a Historian and the Principal Investigator of the Consortium for Forced Migration, Displacement, and Education, a network of universities and colleges that has been developing novel educational strategies for refugee students and scholars as well as those working in this context. Nicole Shea is the Director of the Council for European Studies and the Executive Editor of EuropeNow, a global publication for a broad, multi-disciplinary educated audience. She will discuss how findings disseminated by media outlets on mental health and migration are critical for shaping discourse, education, and policy. Finally, Kyle Farmbry, Principal Investigator of the University Alliance for Refugees and At-Risk Migrants will provide insights on how a group of researchers, practitioners, and policymaker are coordinating efforts to harness the potential of university communities for the empowerment and protection of refugees and at-risk migrants. A discussion with audience will follow the panelists presentations. Key messages This panel will explore ways mental health education and training may better address the needs of refugees and migrants, through promoting interdisciplinary collaborations. Discuss ways for interdisciplinary partnerships and multi-institutional collaborations to provide comprehensive and dynamic training opportunities in forced migration mental health care.

Compared to males, females are protected against adipose inflammation and insulin resistance (IR), major predictors of metabolic disease, until they experience loss of ovarian hormone production (e.g., menopause). Several studies implicate estrogen loss being primarily responsible for this protection, but the mechanisms are not known. Better understanding those mechanisms would have important health implications for both sexes. Females have greater brown adipose tissue (BAT) with increased expression of uncoupling protein 1 (UCP1), its signature protein. Because BAT, and upregulation of UCP1 in white adipose tissue (WAT), correlates inversely with IR, and prior studies have shown increased susceptibility for metabolic dysfunction with decreased BAT, we hypothesized that increased UCP1 expression may be mechanistically related to the greater metabolic protection observed in females. Our finding that UCP1 transiently increases in BAT following ovariectomy (OVX) led us to hypothesize that this compensatory response buffers OVX‐mediated metabolic dysfunction. As such, the purpose of this study was to investigate whether UCP1 knock‐out (KO) mice would experience exacerbated metabolic dysfunction following OVX compared to wild‐type (WT) controls. Female UCP1KO and WT mice received OVX or sham (SHM) surgeries at 16 weeks of age creating 4 groups (C57Bl6J background; n=10/group, housed at 25°C), which were followed for 14 weeks and finally compared for: body weight and adiposity gain (EchoMRI, depot weights), food intake, energy expenditure (EE) and spontaneous physical activity (SPA) (metabolic chambers), IR (HOMA‐IR, Adipo‐IR, and glucose tolerance test), and interscapular BAT phenotype (histology, gene expression via rtPCR). Statistics: 2‐way ANOVA for main effects of genotype (G), treatment (T), and GXT interactions considered significant when P<0.05. Main G effects were found for: increased BAT and WAT mass (both, P<0.01), BAT endoplasmic reticulum stress (increased ddit3, P<0.05), and increased Adipo‐IR (P<0.02). Main effects of T were found for decreased EE, SPA, food intake, and relative BAT mass (all P<0.05). However, KO mice experienced a more adverse metabolic response to OVX than WT, since OVX‐induced weight gain was ~5% greater in KO compared to WT (int trend, P=0.056) and there was a significant GXT interaction on HOMA‐IR (P<0.05), with OVX/KO having the worst scores. Those data paralleled GXT interactions for BAT adipokines, leptin (increased in OVX/KO) and adiponectin (decreased in OVX/KO) (both int P<0.05) and found OVX increased BAT UCP1 mrRNA in WT (GXT P<0.05). These results suggest AT UCP1 is protective against metabolic dysfunction associated with loss of ovarian hormones, opening the possibility that it may serve as a therapeutic target in those settings.Support or Funding InformationMU Research Council

Peripheral artery disease (PAD) is symptomatic of systemic atherosclerosis, and is characterized by the presence of plaques that occlude the arteries of the lower extremities. PAD substantially increases the incidence for myocardial infarction, ischemic stroke, and cardiovascular death. The risk factors for PAD include advanced age (over 40 years), smoking, hypertension, diabetes mellitus, hyperlipidemia, and hyperhomocysteinemia. Treatments for PAD can be divided into three categories: risk‐factor modification, drug therapy, and catheter‐based endovascular intervention.Bean consumption has been shown to reduce risk factors of PAD (e.g. blood pressure, LDL‐cholesterol), however, beans have not been directly investigated as a dietary intervention in the PAD population. Given that common beans (pinto, red kidney, black and navy) are rich in dietary fibre, this component has been assumed to be responsible for the cholesterol‐lowering effects. However, beans also contain phenolic acids, which may explain their risk factor lowering actions.ObjectiveTo determine whether 8 weeks of bean consumption affects the profile of metabolites in serum and urine of individuals with PAD. A non‐targetted metabolomics approach was therefore employed to profile compounds in serum and urine associated with bean consumption and with PAD.ParticipantsPAD patients (n=75) were randomly assigned to 3 groups (n=25/group): i. pulse‐free foods (rice instead of beans = control), ii. 1.5 cups/week, or iii. 3 cups/week of mixed cooked beans (pinto, red kidney, black and navy) for 8 weeks. Urine and serum were collected at baseline and week 8.Extraction ProcedureUrine (250 μL) and serum (100 μL) were extracted with 500 μL and 250 μL of acetonitrile, respectively, and centrifuged (10,000 g, 10 min at 4ºC). The supernatants were dried under vacuum and kept at −20ºC. Dried samples were reconstituted in 200 μL of 1:4 acetonitrile:deionized water (urine) and in 100 μL of 4:1 acetonitrile:deionized water (serum) using glass inserts and brown Gas Chromatography vials for Liquid chromatography‐Quadrupole Time Of Flight‐Mass Spectrometry analysis.ResultsSeveral endogenous metabolites in serum and urine were significantly affected (P<0.05; ≥2‐fold change) by the consumption of beans relative to the comparator study foods. Specific alterations were detected in several class of compounds, including amino acids (His, Arg, Ser, Pro, Leu, Glu), peptides (Lys‐Ala‐His), glutathione, bile salts (glycocholic acid), phospholipids (PE, PS, PI, LysoPE) and products of arachidonic acid metabolism by cyclooxygenase (prostaglandin E2 p‐acetamidophenyl ester). Additionally, this approach detected a number of pharmaceuticals and their corresponding metabolites. In a subset of participants, the decrease in the metabolites of several anti‐hypertensive drugs in urine after 8 weeks of bean consumption suggested the existence of potential drug‐diet interactions that could affect the required dosage of certain anti‐hypertensive medications.ConclusionThe use of a non‐targeted metabolomics approach in our study was invaluable as a screening tool to obtain insight into the biochemical pathways that are affected by bean consumption. Furthermore, by conducting these analyses on samples from individuals with PAD, it was revealed that bean consumption might influence management strategies for hypertension.Support or Funding InformationPulse Science Cluster, and Agriculture and Agri‐Food Canada, Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada and Canada Foundation for Innovation.

Introduction Artist: June 2 at 11.26pm:‘To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing.’ - Raymond Williams. (Singaporean Artists’ public Facebook Post) Can the critical arts exist without ‘place’?There is an ongoing debate on ‘place’ and where it begins and ends; on the ways that cities exist in both material and immaterial forms, and thereby, how to locate and understand place as an anchoring point amidst global flows (Massey; Merrifield). This debate extends to the global art- scape, as traditional conceptions of art and art-making attached to place require re-thinking in a paradigm where digital and immaterial networks, symbols and forums both complement and complicate the role that place has traditionally played (Luger, “Singaporean ‘Spaces of Hope?”). The digital art-scape has allowed for art-led provocations, transformations and disturbances to traditional institutions and gatekeepers (see Hartley’s “ Communication, Media, and Cultural Studies” concept of ‘gatekeeper’) of the art world, which often served as elite checkpoints and way-stations to artistic prominence. Still, contradictory and paradoxical questions emerge, since art cannot be divorced of place entirely, and ‘place’ often features as a topic, subject, or site of critical expression for art regardless of material or immaterial form. Critical art is at once place-bound and place-less; anchored to sites even as it transcends them completely.This paper will explore the dualistic tension – and somewhat contradictory relationship – between physical and digital artistic space through the case study of authoritarian Singapore, by focusing on a few examples of art-activists and the way that they have used and manipulated both physical and digital spaces for art-making. These examples draw upon research which took place in Singapore from 2012-2014 and which involved interviews with, and observation of, a selected sample (30) of art-activists (or “artivists”, to use Krischer’s definition). Findings point to a highly co-dependent relationship between physical and digital art places where both offer unique spaces of possibility and limitations. Therefore, place remains essential in art-making, even as digital avenues expand and amplify what critical art-practice can accomplish.Singapore’s Place-Bound and Place-Less Critical Art-Scape The arts in Singapore have a complicated, and often tense relationship with places such as the theatre, the gallery, and the public square. Though there has been a recent push (in the form of funding to arts groups and physical arts infrastructure) to make Singapore more of an arts and cultural destination (see Luger “The Cultural Grassroots and the Authoritarian City”), the Singaporean arts-scape remains bound by restrictions and limitations, and varying degrees of de facto (and de jure) censorship and self-policing. This has opened up spaces for critical art, albeit in sometimes creative and surprising forms. As explained to me by a Singaporean playwright,So they’re [the state] making venues, as well as festival organizers, as well as theatre companies, to …self-police, or self-censor. But for us on the ground, we use that as a way to focus on what we still want to say, and be creative about it, so that we circumvent the [state], with the intention of doing what we want to do. (Research interview, Singaporean playwright)Use of cyber-spaces is one way that artists circumvent repressive state structures. Restrictions on the use of place enliven cyberspace with an emancipatory and potentially transformative potential for the critical arts. Cyber-Singapore has a vocal art-activist network and has allowed some artists (such as the “Sticker Lady”) to gain wide national and even international followings. However, digital space cannot exist without physical place; indeed, the two exist, simultaneously, forming and re-forming each other. The arts cannot ‘happen’ online without a corresponding physical space for incubation, for practice, for human networking.It is important to note that in Singapore, art-led activism (or ‘artivism’) and traditional activism are closely related, and research indicated that activist networks often overlap with the art world. While this may be the case in many places, Singapore’s small geography and the relatively wide-berth given to the arts (as opposed to political activism) make these relationships especially strong. Therefore, many arts-spaces (theatres, galleries, studios) function as activist spaces; and non-art spaces such as public squares and university campuses often host art events and displays. Likewise, many of the artists that I interviewed are either directly, or indirectly, involved in more traditional activism as well.Singapore is an island-nation-city-state with a carefully planned urban fabric, the vast majority of which is state-owned (at least 80 % - resulting from large-scale land transfers from the British in the years surrounding Singapore’s independence in 1965). Though it has a Westminster-style parliamentary system (another colonial vestige), a single ruling party has commanded power for 50 years (the People’s Action Party, or PAP). Despite free elections and a liberal approach toward business, foreign investment and multiculturalism, Singapore retains a labyrinthine geography of government control over free expression, dictated through agencies such as the Censorship Review Committee (CRC); the Media Development Authority (MDA), and the National Arts Council (NAC) which work together in a confusing grid of checks and balances. This has presented a paradoxical and often contradictory approach to the arts and culture in which gradual liberalisations of everything from gay nightlife to university discourse have come hand-in-hand with continued restrictions on political activism and ‘taboo’ artistic / cultural themes. These ‘out of bounds’ themes (see Yue) include perceived threats to Singapore’s racial, religious, or political harmony – a grey area that is often at the discretion of particular government bureaucrats and administrators.Still, the Singaporean arts place (take the theatre, for example) has assumed a special role as a focal point for not only various types of visual and performance art, but also unrelated (or tangentially-related) activist causes as well. I asked a theatre director of a prominent alternative theatre where, in Singapore’s authoritarian urban fabric, there were opportunities for provocation? He stressed the theatres’ essential role in providing a physical platform for visual tensions and disturbance:You know, and on any given evening, you’ll see some punks or skinheads hanging outside there, and they kind of – create this disturbance in this neighbourhood, where, you know a passer-by is walking to his posh building, and then suddenly you know, there’s this bunch of boys with mohawks, you know, just standing there – and they are friendly! There’s nothing antagonistic or threatening, whatever. So, you know, that’s the kind of tension that we actually love to kind of generate!… That kind of surprise, that kind of, ‘oh, oh yes!’ we see this nice, expensive restaurant, this nice white building, and then these rough edges. And – that is where uh, those points where – where factions, where the rough edges meet –are where dialogue occurs. (Theatre Director, Singapore)That is not to say that the theatre comes without limits and caveats. It is financially precarious, as the Anglo-American model of corporate funding for the arts is not yet well-established in Singapore; interviews revealed that even much of the philanthropic donating to arts organizations comes from Singapore’s prominent political families and therefore the task of disentangling state interests from non-ideological arts patronage becomes difficult. With state - funding come problems with “taboo” subjects, as exemplified by the occasional banned-play or the constant threat of budget cuts or closure altogether: a carrot and stick approach by the state that allows arts organizations room to operate as long as the art produced does not disturb or provoke (too) much.Liew and Pang suggest that in Singapore, cyberspace has allowed a scale, a type of debate and a particularly cross-cutting conversation to take place: in a context where there are peculiar restrictions on the use and occupation of the built environment. They [ibid] found an emerging vocal, digital artistic grassroots that increasingly challenges the City-State’s dominant narratives: my empirical research therefore expands upon, and explores further, the possibility that Singapore’s cyber-spaces are both complementary to, and in some ways, more important than its material places in terms of providing spaces for political encounters.I conducted ‘netnography’ (see Kozinets) across Singapore’s web-scape and found that the online realm may be the ‘… primary site for discursive public activity in general and politics in particular’ (Mitchell, 122); a place where ‘everybody is coming together’ (Merrifield, 18). Without fear of state censorship, artists, activists and art-activists are not bound by the (same) set of restrictions that they might be if operating in a theatre, or certainly in a public place such as a park or square. Planetary cyber-Singapore exists inside and outside the City-State; it can be accessed remotely, and can connect with a far wider audience than a play performed in a small black box theatre.A number of blogs and satirical sites – including TheOnlineCitizen.sg, TheYawningBread.sg, and Demon-Cratic Singapore, openly criticize government policy in ways rarely heard in-situ or in even casual conversation on the street. Additionally, most activist causes and coalitions have digital versions where information is spread and support is gathered, spanning a range of issues. As is the case in material sites of activism in Singapore, artists frequently emerge as the loudest, most vocal, and most inter-disciplinary digital activists, helping to spearhead and cobble together cultural-activist coalitions and alliances. One example of this is the contrast between the place bound “Pink Dot” LGBTQ event (limited to the amount of people that can fit in Hong Lim Park, a central square) and its Facebook equivalent, We are Pink Dot public ‘group’. Pink Dot occurs each June in Singapore and involves around 10,000 people. The Internet’s representations of Pink Dot, however, have reached millions: Pink Dot has been featured in digital (and print) editions of major global newspapers including The Guardian and The New York Times. While not explicitly an art event, Pink Dot is artistic in nature as it uses pink ‘dots’ to side-step the official designation of being an LGBTQ pride event – which would not be sanctioned by the authorities (Gay Pride has not been allowed to take place in Singapore).The street artist Samantha Lo – also known as “Sticker Lady” – was jailed for her satirical stickers that she placed in various locations around Singapore. Unable to freely practice her art on city streets, she has become a sort of local artist - Internet celebrity, with her own Facebook Group called Free Sticker Lady (with over 1,000 members as of April, 2016). Through her Facebook group, Lo has been able to voice opinions that would be difficult – or even prohibited – with a loudspeaker on the street, or expressed through street art. As an open lesbian, she has also been active (and vocal) in the “Pink Dot” events. Her speech at “Pink Dot” was heard by the few-thousand in attendance at the time; her Facebook post (public without privacy settings) is available to the entire world:I'll be speaking during a small segment at Pink Dot tomorrow. Though only two minutes long, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my speech and finding myself at a position where there's just so much to say. All my life, I've had to work twice as hard to prove myself, to be taken seriously. At 18, I made a conscious decision to cave in to societal pressures to conform after countless warnings of how I wouldn't be able to get a job, get married, etc. I grew my hair out, dressed differently, but was never truly comfortable with the person I became. That change was a choice, but I wasn't happy.Since then, I learnt that happiness wasn't a given, I had to work for it, for the ability to be comfortable in my own skin, to do what I love and to make something out of myself. (Artists’ Facebook Post)Yet, without the city street, Lo would not have gained her notoriety; without use of the park, Pink Dot would not have a Facebook presence or the ability to gather international press. The fact that Singaporean theatre exists at all as an important instigator of visual and performative tension demonstrates the significance of its physical address. Physical art places provide a crucial period of incubation – practice and becoming – that cannot really be replicated online. This includes schools and performance space but also in Singapore’s context, the ‘arts-housing’ that is provided by the government to small-scale, up-and-coming artists through a competitive grant process. Artists can receive gallery, performance or rehearsal space for a set amount of time on a rotating basis. Even with authoritarian restrictions, these spaces have been crucial for arts development:There’s a short-term [subsidised] residency studio …for up to 12 months. And so that –allows for a rotating group of artists to come with an idea in mind, use it for whatever- we’ve had artists who were preparing for a major show, and say ‘my studio space, my existing studio space is a bit too tiny, because I’m prepping for this show, I need a larger studio for 3 months. (Arts Administrator, Singapore)Critical and provocative art, limited and restricted by place, is thus still intrinsically bound to it. Indeed, the restrictions on artistic place allow cyber-art to flourish; cyber-art can only flourish with a strong place- based anchor. Far from supplanting place-based art, the digital art-scape forms a complement; digital and place-based art forms combine to form new hybridities in which local context and global forces write and re-write each other in a series of place and ‘placeless’ negotiations. Conclusion The examples that have been presented in this paper paint a picture of a complex landscape where specific urban sites are crucial anchoring nodes in a critical art ecosystem, but much artistic disturbance actually occurs online and in immaterial forms. This may hint at the possibility that globally, urban sites themselves are no longer sufficient for critical art to flourish and reach its full potential, especially as such sites have increasingly fallen prey to austerity policies, increasingly corporate and / or philanthropic programming and curation, and the comparatively wider reach and ease of access that digital spaces offer.Electronic or digital space – ranging from e-mail to social media (Twitter, blogs, Facebook and many others) has opened a new frontier in which, “… material public spaces in the city are superseded by the fora of television, radio talk shows and computer bulletin boards” (Mitchell. 122). The possibility now emerges whether digital space may be even more crucial than material public spaces in terms of emancipatory or critical potential– especially in authoritarian contexts where public space / place comes with particular limits and restrictions on assembling, performance, and critical expression. These contexts range from Taksim Square, Istanbul to Tiananmen Square, Beijing – but indeed, traditional public place has been increasingly privatized and securitized across the Western-liberal world as well. Where art occurs in place it is often stripped of its critical potential or political messages, sanctioned or sponsored by corporate groups or sanitized by public sector authorities (Schuilenburg, 277).The Singapore case may be especially stark due to Singapore’s small size (and corresponding lack of visible public ‘places’); authoritarian restrictions and correspondingly (relatively) un-policed and un-censored cyberspace. But it is fair to say that at a time when Youtube creates instant celebrities and Facebook likes or Instagram followers indicate fame and (potential) fortune – it is time to re-think and re-conceptualise the relationship between place, art, and the place-based institutions (such as grant-funding bodies or philanthropic organizations, galleries, critics or dealers) that have often served as “gatekeepers” to the art-scape. This invites challenges to the way these agents operate and the decision making process of policy-makers in the arts and cultural realm.Mitchell (124) reminded that there has “never been a revolution conducted exclusively in electronic space; at least not yet.” But that was 20 years ago. Singapore may offer a glimpse, however, of what such a revolution might look like. This revolution is neither completely place bound nor completely digital; it is one in which the material and immaterial interplay and overlap in post-modern complexity. Each platform plays a role, and understanding the way that art operates both in place and in “placeless” forms is crucial in understanding where key transformations take place in both the production of critical art and the production of urban space.What Hartley (“The Politics of Pictures”) called the “space of citizenry” is not necessarily confined to a building, the city street or a public square (or even private spaces such as the home, the car, the office). Sharon Zukin likewise suggested that ultimately, a negotiation of a city’s digital sphere is crucial for current-day urban research, arguing that:Though I do not think that online communities have replaced face to face interaction, I do think it is important to understand the way web-based media contribute to our urban imaginary. The interactive nature of the dialogue, how each post feeds on the preceding ones and elicits more, these are expressions of both difference and consensus, and they represent partial steps toward an open public sphere. (27)Traditional gatekeepers such as the theatre director, the museum curator and the state or philanthropic arts funding body have not disappeared, though they must adapt to the new cyber-reality as artists have new avenues around these traditional checkpoints. Accordingly – “old” problems such as de-jure and de-facto censorship reappear in the cyber art-scape as well: take the example of the Singaporean satirical bloggers that have been sued by the government in 2013-2016 (such as the socio-political bloggers and satirists Roy Ngerng and Alex Au). No web-space is truly open.A further complication may be the corporate nature of sites such as Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, or Twitter: far from truly democratic platforms or “agoras” in the traditional sense, these are for-profit (massive) corporations – which a small theatre is not. Singapore’s place based authoritarianism may be multiplied in the corporate authoritarianism or “CEO activism” of tech titans like Mark Zuckerberg, who allow for diverse use of digital platforms and encourage open expression and unfettered communication – as long as it is on their terms, within company policies that are not always transparent.Perhaps the questions then really are not where ‘art’ begins and ends, or where a place starts or stops – but rather where authoritarianism, state and corporate power begin and end in the hyper-connected global cyber-scape? And, if these power structures are now stretched across space and time as Marxist theorists such as Massey or Merrifield claimed, then what is the future for critical art and its relationship to ‘place’?Despite these unanswered questions and invitations for further exploration, the Singapore case may hint at what this emerging geography of place and ‘placeless’ art resembles and how such a new world may evolve moving forward. ReferencesHartley, John. The Politics of Pictures: the Creation of the Public in the Age of Popular Media. Perth: Psychology Press, 1992.———. Communication, Media, and Cultural Studies: The Key Concepts. Oxford: Routledge, 2012. Kozinets, Robert. Netnography: Doing Ethnographic Research Online. New York: Sage, 2010. Krischer, Oliver. “Lateral Thinking: Artivist Networks in East Asia.” ArtAsia Pacific 77 (2012): 96-110. Liew, Kai Khiun. and Natalie Pang. “Neoliberal Visions, Post Capitalist Memories: Heritage Politics and the Counter-Mapping of Singapore’s City-Scape.” Ethnography 16.3 (2015): 331-351.Luger, Jason. “The Cultural Grassroots and the Authoritarian City: Spaces of Contestation in Singapore.” In T. Oakes and J. Wang, eds., Making Cultural Cities in Asia: Mobility, Assemblage, and the Politics of Aspirational Urbanism. London: Routledge, 2015: 204-218. ———. “Singaporean ‘Spaces of Hope?' Activist Geographies in the City-State.” City: Analysis of Urban Trends, Culture, Theory, Policy, Action 20.2 (2016): 186-203. Massey, Doreen. Space, Place and Gender. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1995. Merrifield, Andy. The Politics of the Encounter: Urban Theory and Protest under Planetary Urbanization. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2013. Mitchell, Don. “The End of Public Space? People’s Park, Definitions of the Public, and Democracy.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 85.1 (1996): 108-133. Schuilenburg, Marc. The Securitization of Society: Crime, Risk and Social Order. New York: New York University Press, 2015. Shirky, Clay. Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing without Organizations. New York: Penguin, 2008. Yue, Audrey. “Hawking in the Creative City: Rice Rhapsody, Sexuality and the Cultural Politics of New Asia in Singapore. Feminist Media Studies 7.4 (2007): 365-380. Zukin, Sharon. The Naked City: The Death and Life of Authentic Urban Places. London and New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.

Drawing on my recent experience of working in collaboration with the artist-led project, Open City, I want to explore the potential of an active and resistant - rather than passive and acquiescent – form of stillness that can be activated strategically within a performance-based practice. The article examines how stillness and other forms of non-productive or non-teleological activity might contribute towards the production of a radically dissenting – yet affirmative – model of contemporary subjectivity. It will investigate how the performance of stillness within an artistic practice could offer a pragmatic model through which to approach certain philosophical concepts in relation to the construction of subjectivity, by proposing a practical application of the various ideas explored therein. Stillness is often presented as antithetical to the velocity, mobility, speed and supposed freedom proposed by new technologies and the various accelerated modes by which we are encouraged to engage with the world. In one sense, stillness and slowness have been deemed outmoded or anachronistic forms of temporality, as fastness and efficiency have become the privileged terms. Alternatively, stillness has been reclaimed as part of a resistant – or at least reactive – “counter-culture” for challenging the enforced and increased pace at which we are required to perform. The intent, however, is not to focus on the transcendent possibilities – or even nostalgic dimension – of stillness, where it could be seen as a form of escape from the accelerated temporalities of contemporary capitalism, a move towards a slower, more spiritual or meditative existence by the removal of or self-imposed isolation from contemporary societal pressures. Instead, this article attempts to explore the potential within those forms of stillness specifically produced in and by contemporary capitalism, by reflecting on how they might be (re)inhabited – or appropriated through an artistic practice – as sites of critical action. The article will suggest ways in which habitually resented, oppressive or otherwise tedious forms of stillness, inaction or immobility can be turned into active or resistant strategies for producing the self differently to dominant ideological expectations or pressures. With reference to selected theoretical ideas primarily within the writing of Gilles Deleuze – especially in relation to Spinoza’s Ethics – I want to explore how the collective performance of stillness in the public realm produces an affect that both reveals and disrupts habitual patterns of behaviour. Stillness presents a break or pause in the flow of events, illuminating temporal gaps and fissures in which alternative or unexpected possibilities – for life – might be encountered and encouraged. The act of collective stillness can be understood as a mode of playful resistance to, or refusal of, societal norms, a wilful and collaborative attempt to break or rupture habitual flows. However, collective stillness also has the capacity to exceed or move beyond resistance by producing germinal conditions for a nascent community of experience no longer bound by existing protocol; a model of “communitas” emerging from the shared act of being still. The focus then, is to reflect on how the gesture of stillness performed within the context of an artistic practice – such as that of Open City – might offer an exemplar for the production of an affirmative form of subjectivity, by arguing how the practice of stillness paradoxically has the potential for increasing an individual’s capacity to act. Open City is an investigation-led artistic project – led by Andrew Brown and Katie Doubleday – that explores how public space is conceptualised and organised by interrogating the ways in which our daily actions and behaviours are conditioned and controlled. Their research activity involves inviting, instructing or working with members of the public to create discreet interventions and performances, which put into question or destabilise habitual patterns or conventions of public behaviour, through the use of invitations, propositions, site-specific actions and performative events. The practical and theoretical research phase of the Open City project was initiated in 2006 in collaboration with artist/performer Simone Kenyon. During this phase of research Open City worked with teachers of the Alexander Technique deconstructing the mechanics of walking, and observed patterns of group behaviour and ‘everyday’ movements in public spaces. This speculative phase of research was expanded upon through a pilot project where the artists worked with members of the public, inviting them to attempt to get lost in the city, to consider codes of conduct through observation and mimicry, to explore behavioural patterns in the public realm as a form of choreography, and to approach the spaces of the city as an amphitheatre or stage upon which to perform. This culminated in a series of public performances and propositional/instructive works as part of the nottdance festival in Nottingham (2007) where audiences were invited to participate in choreographed events, creating a number of fleeting and partially visible performances throughout the city. Members of the public were issued specific time-based invitations for collective and individual actions such as ‘Day or night – take a walk in which you notice and deliberately avoid CCTV cameras’ or ‘On the high street during rush hour … suddenly and without warning, stop and remain still for five minutes … then carry on walking as before.’ Image 1: Open City, documentation of publicly-sited postcards. As part of this phase of activity, I was invited by Open City to produce a piece of writing in response to their work – to be serialised over a number of publicly distributed postcards – which would attempt to critically contextualise the various issues and concerns emerging from the investigation-led research that the project had been developing in the public realm. The postcards included an instruction written by Open City on one side, and my serialised text on the other. I have since worked more collaboratively with Open City on new research investigating how the different temporalities within the public realm might be harnessed or activated creatively; how movement and mobility affect the way in which place and locality are encountered or understood. My involvement with the project has specifically been in exploring the use of text-based elements, instructions and propositions and has included further publicly-sited postcard texts and the development of sound-based works using iPod technology to create synchronised actions. In 2008, I successfully secured Arts Council of England funding for a practice-based research trip to Japan with Open City in which we initiated our specific investigations around stillness, slowness, obstruction, and blockage. During this phase of research we became interested in how speed and slowness can be utilised within a performance practice to create points of anchor and location within the urban environment, or in order to affect a psychological shift in the way that space is encountered and understood. Image 2: Open City, research investigations, Japan, 2008.On one level, Open City can be located within a tradition of publicly-sited performance practices. This genealogy of politically – and more often playfully – resistant actions, interventions and models of spatial occupation or navigation can be traced back to the ludic practice of Surrealist errance or aimless wandering into and through the Situationists’ deployment of the dérive and conceptualisation of “psychogeography” during the 1950s and 60s. In its focus on collective action and inhabitation of the everyday as a site of practice, Open City is also part of a trajectory of artistic activity – epitomised perhaps by Allan Kaprow’s Happenings – intent on blurring the line between art and life, or in drawing attention to those aspects of reality marginalised by dominant discourses and ideologies. Performed as part of an artistic practice, non-habitual or even habitually discouraged actions such as aimless wandering, standing still, even the (non)event of 'doing nothing' operate as subtle methods through which to protest against increasingly legislated conditions of existence, by proposing alternative modes of behaviour or suggesting flexibility therein. Artistic practice can be seen as a site of investigation for questioning and dismantling the dominant order – or “major” language – through acts of minor rebellion that – whilst predominantly impotent or ineffective – might still remind us that we have some agency and do not always need to wholly and passively acquiesce. Life itself becomes the material for a work of art, and it is through such an encounter that we might be encouraged to conceive other possibilities for life. Through art, life is rendered plastic and capable of being actively shaped or made into something different to how it might habitually be. However the notion of ‘life as a work of art’ is not exclusive to artistic practice. Various theorists and philosophers – including Nietzsche, Foucault, Spinoza, Deleuze and Guattari – have advocated the necessity of viewing life as a kind of project or mode of invention, suggesting ways in which one’s “style of life” or way of existing might be produced or constructed differently. They urge us to consider how we might actively and consciously attend to the full possibilities of life in order to become more human, by increasing our “affective capacity,” that is, our capacity to affect and be affected in affirming or “augmentative terms” (Deleuze, Spinoza and Us 124). In one sense, Spinoza’s Ethics offers a pragmatic model – or guide to living – through which to attempt to increase one’s potential capacity for being, by maximising the possibility of augmentative experiences or joyful encounters. Here, Spinoza formulates a plan or model through which one might attempt to move from the “inadequate” realm of signs and effects – the first order of knowledge in which the body is simply subject to external forces and random encounters of which it remains ignorant – towards a second order of knowledge. Here, the individual body is able to construct concepts of causes or “common notions” with other “bodies in agreement.” The “common notions” of the second order are produced at the point where the individual is able to rise above the condition of simply experiencing effects and signs in order to form agreements or joyful encounters with other bodies. These harmonious synchronicities with other bodies harness life-affirming affects whilst repelling those that threaten to absorb or deplete power. It is only through the construction of “concepts” – an understanding of causality – that it is possible to move from the realm of inadequate ideas towards the production of “adequate ideas from which true actions ensue” (Deleuze, Spinoza and the Three Ethics 143). According to Spinoza’s Ethics, the challenge is to attempt to move from a state in which existence is passively experienced – or suffered blindly – as a series of effects upon the body, towards understanding – and working harmoniously with – the causes themselves. In his reading of Spinoza’s Ethics, Gilles Deleuze suggests that this shift occurs through consciously selecting those affects that offer the possibilities of augmentation (an increase in power through joy) rather than diminution (the decrease of power through sadness). Whilst Spinoza appears to denounce affects as simply inadequate ideas that should be avoided, Deleuze argues that there are certain life-affirming or joyful affects that can be seen as the “dark precursors” of the notions (The Three Ethics 144). According to Deleuze, whilst such “signs of augmentation remain passions and the ideas that they presuppose remain inadequate,” they alone have the capacity to enable the individual to increase in power, for the “selection” of affect is in itself the “condition of leaving the first kind of knowledge, and for attaining the concept” (The Three Ethics 144). For Deleuze-Spinoza, the production of subjectivity is a form of endeavour or “passional struggle,” whereby the individual attempts to increase his or her capacity for turning affects or signs into common notions or concepts (The Three Ethics 145). Deleuze argues that the “common notions are an Art, the art of Ethics itself: organising good encounters, composing actual relations, forming powers, experimenting” (Spinoza and Us 119). This is then a life-long project or practice – the making of life into a work of art – focused on increasing one’s potential to affect and be affected by signs that increase power, whilst simultaneously reducing or minimising one’s threshold of affectivity towards those which diminish or reduce it. I am interested in the role that the artist or artist collective could have in the production of this Spinozist model of subjectivity; how they might function as an intermediary or catalyst, creating conditions or events in which augmentative affects – such as those made possible through a dynamic or active form of stillness – are increased and their energies harnessed. Here perhaps, the affective potential of an art practice is in itself the “dark precursor” of common notions, drawing together bodies in agreement by calling into being an audience or community of experience. On one level, the artist performs an analogous role to Spinoza’s “scholia” – the intermittent sequence of polemical notations “inserted into the demonstrative chain” of propositions – within the Ethics, which according to Deleuze:Operate in the shadows, trying to distinguish between what prevents us from reaching our common notions and what, on the contrary, allows us to do so, what diminishes and what augments our power, the sad signs of our servitude and the joyous signs of our liberations (The Three Ethics 146).Certainly the project, Open City, attempts to draw attention to the habitually endured –or suffered – signs and affects of contemporary experience; striving to remedy the sad affects of capitalism through the production of playful, disruptive or even joyful interventions, events and encounters between bodies in agreement. The disempowering experience or affect of being controlled – blocked, stopped or restricted – by societal or moral codes and civic laws, is replaced by a minor logic of ambiguous, arbitrary and optional rules. Such rules foreground experimentation and request an ethical rather than obedient engagement that in turn serves to liberate the individual from habitual passivity. Open City attempts to reveal – and then resist or refuse – the hidden rules that determine how to operate or perform within contemporary capitalism, the coded orders on how to behave, move and interact. It exposes such insidious legislation as constructs whose logic has been put in place or brought into effect over time, and which in turn might be revoked, dislocated or challenged. For Open City, the performance of stillness can be used as a gesture through which to break from or rupture the orchestrated and controlled flow of capitalist behaviours and its sad affects. Image 3: Open City, documentation of performance, Nottingham, 2008. Random acts of stillness produce moments of friction within the smooth, regulated flows of contemporary capitalism; singularised or inconsistent glitches or jolts that call to attention its unnoticed rhythms and temporal speeds, by becoming its counter-point or by appropriating its “language” for “strange and minor uses” (Deleuze and Guattari 17). Dawdling or meandering reveals the fierceness of the city’s unspoken bylaws, whilst the societal pressure towards speed and efficiency is thwarted by moments of deliberate non-production, inaction and the act of doing nothing. In one example of collective action – at noon on a shopping street – around fifty pedestrians, suddenly and without warning, stop still in their tracks and remain like this for five minutes before resuming their daily activity. In another, a group of individuals draw to a standstill and slowly sway from side to side; their stillness becomes a device for affecting a block or obstacle that limits or modifies others’ behaviour, creating an infinitely imaginable ricochet of further breaks and amendments to routine journeys and directional flows. Open City often mimics or misuses familiar behavioural patterns witnessed in the public realm, inhabiting their language or codes in a way that playfully transforms their use or proposes elasticity or flexibility therein. Habitual or routine actions are isolated and disinvested of their function or purpose, or become repeated until all sense of teleological imperative is wholly evacuated or rendered absurd. For example, a lone person stops still and holds their hand out to check for rain. Over and over, the same action is repeated but by different individuals; the authenticity of the original gesture shattered and separated from any causal motivation by the reverberations of its uncanny echo. Such performed actions remove or distance the response or reaction from its originary stimulus or excitation, creating an affective gap between – a no longer known or present – cause and its effect. This however, is not to return action back to realm of Spinoza’s first order of knowledge – where the body only experiences effects and remains ignorance of their cause – but rather an attempt to create a gap or space of “hesitancy” in which a form of creativity might emerge. Within the act of stillness, habitually imperceptible rhythms and speeds become visible. By being still it is possible to witness or attend to the presence of different or heterogeneous temporal “refrains” or durations operating beneath and within the surface appearance of capitalism’s homogeneous flow.Open City attempts to recuperate the creative potential within those moments of stillness generated through the accelerated technologies of contemporary capitalism: the situational ennui endured whilst waiting or queuing; the moments of collective and synchronised impasse controlled by technologies such as traffic lights and pedestrian crossings, and even – though perhaps more abstractly – the nebulous experience of paralysis and impotency induced by fear, anxiety and uncertainty. Performances attempt to neutralise these various diminutive affects by re-inhabiting or re-framing them; ‘turning’ their stillness towards a form of memorial, protest or social gathering, or alternatively rendering it seemingly empty, unreadable or absurd. This emptiness can also be understood as a form of disinterestedness that refuses to react to immediate stimulus – or lack of – and rather remains open to other possibilities of existence or inhabitation. Stillness is curiously equivocal, an “ambiguous or fluctuating sign” that has the capacity to “affect us with joy and sadness at the same time” (Deleuze The Three Ethics 140). The external appearance of stillness is ultimately blank, its “event” able to affect a “vectorial passage” of contradictory directions, towards an “increase or decrease, growth or decline, joy or sadness” (Deleuze, The Three Ethics 140). Open City attempts to transform the – potentially – diminutive affects of stillness into “augmentative powers” by occupying the stillness of contemporary capitalism as a disguise or camouflage for producing invisible performances that hijack a familiar language in order to misuse its terms. More recently Open City have adapted or occupied the moments of stillness made possible or enabled by everyday technologies: the inconsistent rhythm patterns of stopping, pausing or circling about on the spot exhibited by someone absorbed in a mobile-phone call, text messaging or changing a track on their MP3 player. Here, certain technologies allow, legitimate or even give permission for the disruption of the flow of movement within the city, or are used as a device through which to explore and exploit the potential of collective synchronised action through the use of recorded instructions.Image 4: Open City, public performance from the Dislocate festival (Yokohama, Japan, 2008).The alienating and atomising affects of such personal technologies – which are habitually used and isolate the individual from their immediate surroundings and from others around them – are transformed into tools for producing collective action. In one sense, Open City’s performances operate as a form of “minor art” as outlined by Deleuze and Guattari, where a major language – the dominant order of capitalism and control – is neutralised or deterritorialised before being “appropriated for strange and minor uses” (17). For Deleuze and Guattari a minor practice is always political and collective, signalling the “movement from the individual to a ‘collective multiplicity’” where there is no longer an individual subject as such but “only collective assemblages of enunciation”(18). The minor always operates within the terms of the major but functions as a destabilising agent where it attempts – according to Simon O’Sullivan – to “stammer and stutter the commodity form, disassembling those already existing forms of capital and indeed moving beyond the latter’s very logic” (73). However, as with all acts of deterritorialisation there is always the potential that they will in turn become reterritorialised; assimilated or absorbed back into the language of the “major”. This can be seen, for example, in the way that the proposed radical potential of the flash-mob phenomenon has been swiftly recuperated through the language of the corporate publicity campaigns of high-profile companies – specifically telecommunication multi-nationals - for whom the terms ‘community’ and ‘collectivity’ are developed as Unique Selling Points for further capitalist gain.By contrast, the intent of Open City is to create an event that operates not only as a visible rupture, but which also has the capacity to transform or radicalise the subjectivities of those involved beyond the duration of the event itself. Open City encourage the movement from the individual to a “collective multiplicity,” through performances that produce synchronised action where individuals become temporally united by a rule or instruction that they are collectively adhering to. Publicly distributed postcards have been used to invite or instruct as-yet-unknown publics to participate in collective action, setting the terms for the possibility of imagined or future assemblies. Or more recently, recorded spoken word instructions listened to using MP3 player technology have been used to harmonise the speeds, stillness and slowness of individual bodies to produce the possibility of a new collective rhythm or “refrain” (Guattari, Subjectivities). For example, within the Dislocate festival (Yokohama, Japan, 2008) a group of individuals were led on a guided walk in which they engaged with a series of spoken instructions listened to using MP3 player technology. The instructions invited a number of discreet performances culminating in a collective moment of stillness that was at once a public spectacle and a space of self-contained or private reflection. Image 5: Open City, public performance from the Dislocate festival (Yokohama, Japan, 2008). Once still, the individuals listened to a further spoken text which interrogated how the act of ‘being still’ might shift in meaning moving from or between different positions. For example, stillness can be experienced as a controlling or restrictive mode of enforced waiting, as an act of resistant refusal or protest, or alternatively as a model of quiet contemplation or idle daydreaming. For Spinoza, a body is defined by its speeds and slowness – by the relationship between motion and rest – and by its capacity to affect and be affected. In attempting to synchronise the speeds and affectivity of individuals through group action, Open City create the conditions for the production of Spinoza’s “common notions” – or second kind of knowledge – through the organisation of a collective or shared understanding of causality by bodies in agreement. Acts of collective stillness also function in an analogous manner to the transitional or liminal phase within ritual performance by producing the possibility of “communitas,” the transient experience of togetherness or even of collective subjectivity. In From Ritual to Theatre, The Human Seriousness of Play, anthropologist Victor Turner identifies a form of “existential or spontaneous communitas” – an acute experience of community – experienced by individuals immersed in the "no longer/not yet" liminal space of a given ritualistic process, in which “the past is momentarily negated, suspended or abrogated, and the future has not yet begun, an instant of pure potentiality when everything, as it were, trembles in the balance” (44). Stillness is presented as pure disinterestedness, a non-teleological event enabling nothing but the possibility of a community of experience to come into being.Within Open City then, the gesture of stillness recurs as a device or “event-encounter” for simultaneously producing a break or hiatus in an already existing formulation of experience, at the same time as creating a gap or space of possibility in which to imagine or affirm an alternative mode of being. Referring to the Deleuzian notion of encounter, O’Sullivan reflects on the dual presence of rupture and affirmation within the moment of encounter itself whereby “our typical ways of being in the world are challenged, our systems of knowledge disrupted” (Sullivan,xxiv). He argues that the encounter:Operates as a rupture in our habitual modes of being and thus in our habitual subjectivities. It produces a cut, a crack. However … the rupturing encounter also contains a moment of affirmation, the affirmation of a new world, in fact a way of seeing and thinking this world differently (Sullivan, xxv).Open City attempts to create the conditions for these dual possibilities – of rupture and affirmation – through the production of joyful encounters between bodies within the event of performed stillness. Stillness operates as a double gesture where it creates a stop or block – a break with the already existing or with the events of the past – and also a moment of pause, the liminal space of projection; a future-oriented or preparatory zone of pure potentiality. Stillness thus offers the simultaneous possibility of termination and of a new beginning, within which it becomes possible to move from a paradigm of resistance – to the present conditions of existence – towards one of augmentative refusal or proposal that invites reflection on a still future-possible way of life. Poised at a point of anticipation or as a prophetic mode of waiting, stillness offers the promise of as-yet-undecided possibilities where options for future action or existence remain momentarily open, not yet known. Collective stillness thus always has a quality of “futurity” by creating the transitional conditions of communitas or the possibility of a community emerging outside or beyond the temporal frame of capitalism: a community that is still in waiting. ReferencesBergson, Henri. Matter and Memory. Trans. N. M. Paul and W. S Palmer. New York: Zone Books, 1991.De Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. Trans. Steven Rendall. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari.“What Is a Minor Literature.” Kafka toward a Minor Literature. Trans. Dana Polan. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1986.Deleuze, Gilles. “Spinoza and the Three ‘Ethics’.” Essays Critical and Clinical. Trans D. W. Smith and M. A. Greco. London: Verso, 1998.———. “Life as a Work of Art.” Negotiations: 1972-1990. New York: Columbia U P, 1995.———. “Spinoza and Us.” Spinoza: Practical Philosophy. Trans. R. Hurley. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 1988. Guattari, Felix. “Subjectivities: For Better and for Worse.” The Guattari Reader. Ed. G. Genosko. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1996.Foucault, Michel. “An Aesthetics of Existence.” Politics, Philosophy, Culture. Ed. L. Kritzman. London: Routledge, 1990.O’Sullivan, Simon. Art Encounters Deleuze and Guattari. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.Spinoza, Benedict. Ethics. Trans. A Boyle. London: Everyman, 1989. Turner, Victor. From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play. New York: PAJ Publications, 1982.

In 2005, in response to student interest and at the request of Cathy Lane, at that time course director of Sound Arts and Design at the London College of Communication, I began to run courses in improvisation for 2nd year undergraduates. The workshops are a core option for the BA, alongside other courses such as environmental sound recording, studio production and Max/MSP. In 2004 I had been awarded a three year practice based research fellowship by the AHRC (Arts and Humanities Research Council); my project was entitled Sound Body, an investigation into the impact of digital technology on improvised music performance and other forms of sonic art. For this reason, and because only a minority of Sound Arts and Design students perform on conventional musical instruments, the course was called Digital Improvisation. In practice, however, the sound sources used were a rich and sometimes comical mix of laptop computers, turntables, homemade analogue electronic devices, power drills, electronic keyboards and sampling devices, and even an acoustic violin, though this was processed through another student’s equipment. Responding to the unpredictability of the mix, I called the group Unknown Devices, though within the college it is known more generically as the Laptop Orchestra. The digital improvisation workshop has three main aims: To encourage an awareness and understanding of musical, interpersonal and technical issues involved in sonic improvisation. To nurture confidence and sensitivity in the playing of improvised music. To develop a practical and professional approach to performing group improvisation. The sessions are held over six consecutive weeks and each may last from 90 minutes to 3 hours. Punctuality is stressed, partly to prepare those students who are unfamiliar with the practicalities of public performance, and partly to minimise the period of setting up that begins each class. The first session is devoted to a discussion in which students give their views on improvised music: what is it, how does it work, how does it relate to other forms of improvisation in the arts, and how might it connect with the improvisation of daily life? Many students begin with very limited ideas about improvisation. Some think of it as an excuse for ‘jamming’, which may seem an easy option for a Monday afternoon. For most of them this has connotations, either positive or negative depending on the student, of a self-indulgent free-for-all, an emotional outlet with little discipline and few boundaries. In order to refine these ideas, we begin to explore some of the hidden rules of improvisation, such as the necessity for restraint, collective discipline, self-control, self-criticism, close listening, dynamic group analysis, and a willingness to balance personal aims, desires and skills (or the lack of them) with the needs of the group. Though discussed from the outset, the concept of jamming remains as a grey eminence throughout. For some students it is hard to dislodge this approach, and equally hard for me, as the director of each session, to open up a path through which they can interact in more specific and considered ways. What is jamming, the question is asked, and the answer is that jamming is associated predominantly with a known form, the participants play in order to exercise their skill, even to the point of competitiveness, but also for the pleasure of interaction without the need for perfection. Perhaps this is why recorded jam sessions can be disappointing. Two examples from my own record collection – Charlie Christian experimenting with the new bebop at Minton’s Playhouse, and John McLaughlin with Jimi Hendrix – are both interesting as historic documents but pale beside the more finished work of all these artists. Improvisation demands a closer awareness of the group. During the first session, we consider some of the qualities that are needed to create improvisations that are satisfying both for the participant and for the listener. Students are given a worksheet, drawn from my own experience as an improviser, which lists examples of these qualities. From a list of 38, this is a selection: The urge to play. An aptitude for reacting quickly to unexpected, sometimes unwelcome developments. Being able to produce ideas and techniques that allow a variety of responses, both to individuals, and to the overall group sound. A sense of form. An acute awareness of time. The ability to identify the nature of a sound and produce an engaging response (this means being able to work with pitch relationships, rhythmic elements, or the complexity of individual sounds). Silence and stillness. A knowledge of your instrument, and confidence in using it. Patience. The ability to think and act at microscopic and macroscopic levels simultaneously. Experience in scanning and evaluating complex situations from moment to moment, yet maintaining personal focus. Tolerance. The strength to fight for space. The ability to turn any of the above qualities on their head. The strength to be quiet. Exercises in playing, listening, and mutual criticism are used to develop these qualities during the course of the six weeks. The class may be divided into two sections. One group performs an exercise; the other group listens and then gives a critique of the performance based on its success in achieving its aims. The worksheet includes observations which are analysed either in specific points of development during a class, or applied throughout the six sessions. From a list of 32, here are 6 examples: Learn to maintain intensity, concentration, and relaxation simultaneously. Consider the layout and appearance of whatever you’re playing. Is it set up so that you’re going to trip over a cable, or so that you can’t reach something quickly? Does it look like a pile of junk to the audience? Is that the effect you want to achieve? Are you invisible to the audience? Do you want that? Learn how to change a situation when it’s stuck. Learn how to be supportive, and how to be disruptive. Don’t try to be liked: don’t go out of your way to be disliked. Don’t be afraid to stay in one spot; don’t be afraid to move on. Some students have professional experience of performing and highly developed instrumental abilities. Others may have no experience of making live music or using any kind of instrument. Conflicts can arise in situations in which one person’s confidence may be excessive, their self-absorption effectively preventing them from listening or responding to the group, whereas another person may be so timid that their ability to participate is seriously impaired. Musical and aesthetic tastes and theories are also an issue, and clashes between incompatible styles are common. Such tensions may tap into conflicts and alliances that already exist at an interpersonal level, so a part of the development of the group will inevitably require a willingness to compromise and negotiate, and to find ways of resolving conflict through musical cooperation. I give them practical exercises during each class and certain of these exercises will be revisited over the 6 week period as a measure of progress. Four examples from the worksheet are given below: STILL: The group sits very quietly, listening to the sound of the room, identifying each component of the sound and placing it within the space. Each player is allowed one short contribution, which can be made after the stillness and the room sound has affected their ideas about what they might play. After making the one contribution, the player then sits quietly again. The piece ends when everybody has made their contribution. COMMUNITIES: The large group splits into three or four smaller groups. One group begins an improvisation; after five minutes, the second group joins in. The first group stops playing after a minute of overlap. Then the third group joins in after another five minutes, and the second group stops after a minute’s overlap. COMMUNITIES II: In a second version of this strategy, the groups decide when to make their own entries and exits. All groups may play at the same time, or stop at the same time, but they must stay aware of their role as a group within a group. Each group must find ways of starting together, and finishing together, without any verbal communication. CRESCENDO: beginning by listening closely to the room, the group moves from silence to loud noise at a similar pace, taking a few minutes to do so and adjusting volume to match volume levels as closely as possible. Everybody attempts to stop at the same time. DIMINUENDO: the group moves from loud noise down to silence over a three minute period, trying to match volume levels as closely as possible. At the end of the 6 week period, the group gives a public performance. This impending exposure to an audience is an important goal – a test of how far they have come and an incentive to resolve technical problems, focus on learning during each session, set aside conflicts, and even begin to self-organise. At the beginning of the course they are highly critical of their own capacity to work together as a group, and in some cases sceptical of the whole idea of improvisation. In all examples of the Orchestra giving a public performance, although individuals have expressed disappointment that certain pieces could have been played better, the overall feeling is a sense of pleasurable surprise that such a disparate group of people can avoid chaos or collapse to produce a sustained performance which gives them personal satisfaction, both as a participatory and listening experience. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Toop, David. "Jammed in an Unknown Device." M/C Journal 9.6 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/01-toop.php>. APA Style Toop, D. (Dec. 2006) "Jammed in an Unknown Device," M/C Journal, 9(6). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/01-toop.php>.

Neste artigo, apresentamos duas cenas de uma aula de português como língua de herança na Alemanha e demonstramos como os conceitos de cultura(s) como uma programação coletiva da mente (Woodside, 2010) e território(s) são úteis para entendermos como uma professora brasileira é surpreendida pelo modo como os seus alunos germânico-brasileiros, nascidos e criados na Alemanha, interpretam o texto-objeto de Ensino (uma propaganda verbo-visual impressa). Os apontamentos interculturais que realizamos nos auxiliam a acessar e a compreender circunstâncias que perfazem o trabalho com exemplares de textos no contexto de ensino-aprendizagem de língua de herança, o que, por sua vez, aponta para especificidades do trabalho do professor, que já atua ou quer atuar, nesse contexto. ANDRADE, Mariana Kuntz. Autenticidade de materiais e ensino de línguas estrangeiras. Pandaemonium Germanicum, v. 20, n. 31, p. 1-29, 2017.­BRONCKART, Jean Paul; MACHADO, Anna Rachel. Procedimentos de análise de texto sobre o trabalho educacional. In: MACHADO, Anna Rachel (Org.). O ensino como trabalho: uma abordagem discursiva. Londrina: EDUEL, 2004, p. 131-163.­CASTELLOTTI, V. & MOORE, D. Social Representations of Languages and Teaching. Guide for the Development of Language Education Policies in Europe From Linguistic Diversity to Plurilingual Education. Strasbourg, Council of Europe, 2002. http://www.coe.int/t/dg4/linguistic/source/castellottimooreen.pdf ­CELANI, Maria Antonieta Alba. A Relevância da Lingüística Aplicada na Formação de uma Política Educacional Brasileira. In: FORTKAMP, M.B.M.; TOMITCH, L.M.B. (Orgs.) Aspectos da lingüística aplicada. Florianópolis: Insular, 2000.­DURANTI, Alessandro. Theories of culture. In: DURANTI, Alessandro. The Anthropology of Intentions Language in a World of Others, Cambridge (U.K.): University Printing House, 2015, p. 23- 50. ­DUBOIS, D.; MONDADA, L. 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Fig 1: Image from a secret Rangoon fashion shoot. Photograph: Myanmar Photo Archive / Lukas Birk. Introduction NOTE: Rangoon, Burma has been known as Yangon, Myanmar, since 2006. I use Rangoon and Burma for the period prior to 2006 and Yangon and Myanmar for the period thereafter. In addition, I have removed the name of any activist currently in Myanmar due to the recent policy of executing political prisoners. On 1 February 2021, Myanmar was again plunged into political turmoil when the military illegally overthrew the country’s democratically elected government. This is the third time Myanmar, formally known as Burma, has been subject to a coup d’état; violent seizures of power took place in 1962 and in 1988-90. While those two earlier military governments met with opposition spearheaded by students and student organisations, in 2021 the military faced organised resistance through a mass Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM) initiated by government healthcare workers who refused to come to work. They were joined by private sector “strikes” and, perhaps most visible of all to western viewers, mass street demonstrations “led” by “Gen Z” activists—young people who had come of age during Myanmar’s brief decade of democracy. There is little doubt that the success of the CDM and associated protests is due to the widespread coverage and reach of social media as well as the creative communications skills of the country’s first “generation of digital natives”, who are sufficiently familiar and comfortable with social platforms to “participate and shape their identities in communication and dialogue with global digital media content” (Jordt et al. 12 ). The leveraging of global culture, including the use of English in protest signs, was notable in garnering international media coverage and so keeping Myanmar’s political plight front-of-mind with governments around the world. Yet this is not the whole story behind the effectiveness of these campaigns. As Lisa Brooten argues, contemporary networks are built on “decades of behind-the-scenes activism to build a multi-ethnic civil society” (East Asia Forum). The leading democracy activist, Min Ko Naing, aligned “veteran activists from previous generations with novice Gen Z activists”, declaring “this revolution represents a combination of Generations X, Y and Z in fighting against the military dictatorship’” (Jordt et al. 18). Similarly, the creative strategies used by 2021’s digital campaigners also build on protests by earlier generations of young, creative people. This paper looks at two creative protest across the generations. The first is “secret” fashion photography of the late 1970s collected in Lukas Birk’s Yangon Fashion 1979 – Fashion=Resistance. The second is the contemporary #100projectors campaign, a “projection project for Myanmar democracy movement against the military dictatorship” (in the interest of full disclosure, I took part in the #100projectors project). Drawing from the contemporary advertising principle of “segmentation”, the communications practice where potential consumers are divided into “subgroups … based on specific characteristics and needs” (WARC 1), as well as contemporary thinking on the “aesthetics” of “cosmopolitanism”, (Papastergiadis, Featherstone, and Christensen), I argue that contemporary creative strategies can be traced back to the creative tactics of resistance employed by earlier generations of protesters and their re-imagining of “national space and its politics” (Christensen 556) in the interstices of cosmopolitan Rangoon, Burma, and Yangon, Myanmar. #100projectors Myanmar experienced two distinct periods of military rule, the Socialist era between 1962 and 1988 under General Ne Win and the era under the State Law and Order Restoration Council – State Peace and Development Council between 1988 and 2011. These were followed by a semi-civilian era from 2011 to 2021 (Carlson 117). The coup in 2021 marks a return to extreme forms of control, censorship, and surveillance. Ne Win’s era of military rule saw a push for Burmanisation enforced through “significant cultural restrictions”, ostensibly to protect national culture and unity, but more likely to “limit opportunities for internal dissent” (Carlson 117). Cultural restrictions applied to art, literature, film, television, as well as dress. Despite these prohibitions, in the 1970s Rangoon's young people smuggled in illegal western fashion magazines, such as Cosmopolitan and Vogue, and commissioned local tailors to make up the clothes they saw there. Bell-bottoms, mini-skirts, western-style suits were worn in “secret” fashion shoots, with the models posing for portraits at Rangoon photographic studios such as the Sino-Burmese owned Har Si Yone in Chinatown. Some of the wealthier fashionistas even came for weekly shoots. Demand was so high, a second branch devoted to these photographic sessions was opened with its own stock of costumes and accessories. Copies of these head to toe fashion portraits, printed on 12 x 4 cm paper, were shared with friends and family; keeping portrait albums was a popular practice in Burma and had been since the 1920s and 30s (Birk, Burmese Photographers 113). The photos that survive this era are collected in Lukas Birk’s Yangon Fashion 1979 – Fashion=Resistance. #100projectors was launched in February 2021 by a group of young visual and video artists with the aim of resisting the coup and demanding the return of democracy. Initially a small group of projectionists or “projector fighters”, as the title suggests they plan to amplify their voices by growing their national and international network to 100. #100projectors is one of many campaigns, movements, and fundraisers devised by artists and creatives to protest the coup and advocate for revolution in Myanmar. Other notable examples, all run by Gen Z activists, include the Easter Egg, Watermelon, Flash, and Marching Shoes strikes. The Marching Shoe Strike, which featured images of flowers in shoes, representing those who had died in protests, achieved a reach of 65.2 million in country with 1.4 million interactions across digital channels (VERO, 64) and all of these campaigns were covered by the international press, including The Guardian, Reuters, The Straits Times, and VOA East Asia Pacific Session, as well as arts magazines around the world (for example Hyperallergic, published in Brooklyn). #100projectors material has been projected in Finland, Scotland, and Australia. The campaign was written about in various art magazines and their Video #7 was screened at the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre in February 2022 as part of Defiant Art: A Year of Resistance to the Myanmar Coup. At first glance, these two examples seem distant in both their aims and achievements. Fashion photos, taken in secret and shared privately, could be more accurately described as a grassroots social practice rather than a political movement. While Birk describes the act of taking these images as “a rebellion” and “an escape” in a political climate when “a pair of flowers and a pair of sunglasses might just start a revolution”, the fashionistas’ photographs seem “ephemeral” at best, or what Mina Roces describes as the subtlest form of resistance or ‘weapons of the weak’ (Scott in Roces 7). By contrast, #100projectors has all the hallmarks of a polished communications campaign. They have a logo and slogans: “We fight for light” and “The revolution must win”. There is a media plan, which includes the use of digital channels, encrypted messaging, live broadcasts, as well as in-situ projections. Finally, there is a carefully “targeted” audience of potential projectionists. It is this process of defining a target audience, based on segmentation, that is particularly astute and sophisticated. Traditionally, segmentation defined audiences based on demographics, geodemographics, and self-identification. However, in the online era segments are more likely to be based on behaviour and activities revealed in search data as well as shares, depending on preferences for privacy and permission. Put another way, as a digital subject, “you are what you choose to share” (WARC 1). The audience for #100projectors includes artists and creative people around the world who choose to share political video art. They are connected through digital platforms including Facebook as well as encrypted messaging. Yet this contemporary description of digital subjectivity, “you are what you choose to share”, also neatly describes the Yangon fashionistas and the ways in which they resist the political status quo. Photographic portraits have always been popular in Burma and so this collection does not look especially radical. Initially, the portraits seem to speak only about status, taste, and modernity. Several subjects within the collection are shown in national or ethnic dress, in keeping with the governments edict that Burma consisted of 135 ethnicities and 8 official races. In addition, there is a portrait of a soldier in full uniform. But the majority of the images are of men and women in “modern” western gear typical of the 1970s. With their wide smiles and careful poses, these men and women look like they’re performing sophisticated worldliness as well as showing off their wealth. They are cosmopolitan adepts taking part in international culture. Status is implicit in the accessories, from sunglasses to jewellery. One portrait is shot at mid-range so that it clearly features a landline phone. In 1970s Burma, this was an object out of reach for most. Landlines were both prohibitively expensive and reserved for the true elites. To make a phone call, most people had to line up at special market stalls. To be photographed with a phone, in western clothes (to be photographed at all), seems more about aspiration than anarchy. In the context of Ne Win’s Burma, however, the portraits clearly capture a form of political agency. Burma had strict edicts for dress and comportment: kissing in public was banned and Burmese citizens were obliged to wear Burmese dress, with western styles considered degenerate. Long hair, despite being what Burmese men traditionally wore prior to colonisation, was also deemed too western and consequently “outlawed” (Edwards 133). Dress was not only proscribed but hierarchised and heavily gendered; only military men had “the right to wear trousers” (Edwards 133). Public disrespect of the all-powerful, paranoid, and vindictive military (known as “sit tat” for military or army versus “Tatmadaw” for the good Myanmar army) was dangerous bordering on the suicidal. Consequently, wearing shoulder-length hair, wide bell bottoms, western-style suits, and “risqué” mini-skirts could all be considered acts of at least daring and definitely defiance. Not only are these photographs a challenge to gender constructions in a country ruled by a hyper-masculine army, but these images also question the nature of what it meant to be Burmese at a time when Burmeseness itself was rigidly codified. Recording such acts on film and then sharing the images entailed further risk. Thus, these models are, as Mina Roces puts it, “express[ing] their agency through sartorial change” (Roces 5). Fig. 2: Image from a secret Rangoon fashion shoot – illicit dress and hair. Photograph: Myanmar Photo Archive / Lukas Birk. Fig. 3: Image from a secret Rangoon fashion shoot. Photograph: Myanmar Photo Archive / Lukas Birk. Roces also notes the “challenge” of making protest visible in spaces “severely limited” under authoritarian regimes (Roces 10). Burma under the Socialist government was a particularly difficult place in which to mount any form of resistance. Consequences included imprisonment or even execution, as in the case of the student leader Tin Maung Oo. Ma Thida, a writer and human rights advocate herself jailed for her work, explains the use of creative tools such as metaphor in a famous story about a crab by the writer and journalist Hanthawaddy U Win Tin: The crab, being hard-shelled, was well protected and could not be harmed. However, the mosquito, despite being a far smaller animal, could bite the eyes of the crab, leading to the crab’s eventual death. ... Readers drew the conclusion that the socialist government of Ne Win was the crab that could be destabilized if a weakness could be found. (Thida 317) If the metaphor of a crab defeated by a mosquito held political meaning, then being photographed in prohibited fashions was a more overt way of making defiance and resistant “visible”. While that visibility seems ephemeral, the fashionistas also found a way not only to be seen by the camera in their rebellious clothing, but also by a “public” or audience of those with whom they shared their images. The act of exchanging portraits, what Birk describes as “old-school Instagram”, anticipates not only the shared selfie, but also the basis of successful contemporary social campaigns, which relied in part on networks sharing posts to amplify their message (Birk, Yangon Fashion 17). What the fashionistas also demonstrate is that an act of rebellion can also be a means of testing the limits of conformity, of the need for beauty, of the human desire to look beautiful. Acts of rebellion are also acts of celebration and so, solidarity. Fig. 4: Image from a secret Rangoon fashion shoot – illicit dress length. Photograph: Myanmar Photo Archive / Lukas Birk. Fig. 5: Image from a secret Rangoon fashion shoot – illicit trousers. Photograph: Myanmar Photo Archive / Lukas Birk. As the art critic and cultural theorist Nikos Papastergiadis writes, “the cosmopolitan imagination in contemporary art could be defined as an aesthetic of openness that engenders a global sense of inter-connectedness” (207). Inter-connectedness and its possibilities and limits shape the aesthetic imaginary of both the secret fashion shoots of 1970s Rangoon and the artists and videographers of 2021. In the videos of the #100projectors project and the fashion portraits of stylish Rangoonites, interconnection comes as a form of aesthetic blending, a conversation that transcends the border. The sitter posing in illicit western clothes in a photo studio in the heart of Rangoon, then Burma’s capital and seat of power, cannot help but point out that borders are permeable, and that national identity is temporally-based, transitory, and full of slippages. In this spot, 40-odd years earlier, Burmese nationalists used dress as a means of publicly supporting the nationalist cause (Edwards, Roces). Like the portraits, the #100projector videos blend global and local perspectives on Myanmar. Combining paintings, drawings, graphics, performance art recordings, as well as photography, the work shares the ‘instagrammable’ quality of the Easter Egg, Watermelon, and Marching Shoes strikes with their bright colours and focus on people—or the conspicuous lack of people and the example of the Silent Strike. Graphics are in Burmese as well as English. Video #6 was linked to International Women’s Day. Other graphics reference American artists such as Shepherd Fairey and his Hope poster, which was adapted to feature Aung San Suu Kyi’s face during then-President Obama’s visit in 2012. The videos also include direct messages related to political entities such as Video #3, which voiced support for the Committee Representing Pyidaungsu Hlutaw (CRPH), a group of 15 elected MPs who represented the ideals of Gen Z youth (Jordt et al., viii). This would not necessarily be understood by an international viewer. Also of note is the prevalence of the colour red, associated with Aung San Suu Kyi’s NLD. Red is one of the three “political” colours formerly banned from paintings under SLORC. The other two were white, associated with the flowers Aung Sang Suu Kyi wore in her hair, and black, symbolic of negative feelings towards the regime (Carlson, 145). The Burmese master Aung Myint chose to paint exclusively in the banned colours as an ongoing act of defiance, and these videos reflect that history. The videos and portraits may propose that culturally, the world is interconnected. But implicit in this position is also the failure of “interconnectedness”. The question that arises with every viewing of a video or Instagram post or Facebook plea or groovy portrait is: what can these protesters, despite the risks they are prepared to take, realistically expect from the rest of the world in terms of help to remove the unwanted military government? Interconnected or not, political misfortune is the most effective form of national border. Perhaps the most powerful imaginative association with both the #100projectors video projections and fashionistas portraits is the promise of transformation, in particular the transformations possible in a city like Rangoon / Yangon. In his discussion of the cosmopolitan space of the city, Christensen notes that although “digital transformations touch vast swathes of political, economic and everyday life”, it is the city that retains supreme significance as a space not easily reducible to an entity beneath the national, regional, or global (556). The city is dynamic, “governed by the structural forces of politics and economy as well as moralities and solidarities of both conservative and liberal sorts”, where “othered voices and imaginaries find presence” in a mix that leads to “contestations” (556). Both the fashionistas and the video artists of the #100projectors use their creative work to contest the ‘national’ space from the interstices of the city. In the studio these transformations of the bodies of Burmese subjects into international “citizens of the world” contest Ne Win’s Burma and reimagine the idea of nation. They take place in the Chinatown, a relic of the old, colonial Rangoon, a plural city and one of the world’s largest migrant ports, where "mobility, foreignness and cross-cultural hybridity" were essential to its make-up (Aung Thin 778). In their instructions on how to project their ideas as a form of public art to gain audience, the #100projectors artists suggest projectors get “full on creative with other ways: projecting on people, outdoor cinema, gallery projection” (#100projectors). It is this idea projection as an overlay, a doubling of the everyday that evokes the possibility of transformation. The #100projector videos screen on Rangoon bridges, reconfiguring the city, albeit temporarily. Meanwhile, Rangoon is doubled onto other cities, towns, villages, communities, projected onto screens but also walls, fences, the sides of buildings in Finland, Scotland, Australia, and elsewhere. Conclusion In this article I have compared the recent #100projectors creative campaign of resistance against the 2021 coup d’état in Myanmar with the “fashionistas” of 1970 and their “secret” photo shoots. While the #100projectors is a contemporary digital campaign, some of the creative tactics employed, such as dissemination and identifying audiences, can be traced back to the practices of Rangoon’s fashionistas of the 1970s. ­­Creative resistance begins with an act of imagination. The creative strategies of resistance examined here share certain imaginative qualities of connection, a privileging of the ‘cosmopolitan’ and ‘interconnectedness’ as well as the transformativity of actual space, with the streets of Rangoon, itself a cosmopolitan city. References @100projectors Instagram account. <https://www.instagram.com/100projectors/>. @Artphy_1 Instagram account. <https://www.instagram.com/artphy_1/>. 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Along with all the other baggage the British brought with them to Port Jackson in 1788 were laws of ownership that were totally foreign to the original inhabitants. The particular law I'll consider here is that of copyright. The result of a few hundred years of evolution, moulded by the common law and acts of Parliament, copyright protects the intellectual property of writers and artists (Saunders). It has three requirements: originality, material form and identifiable author. However, superimposed on the creative practices of the original inhabitants of Australia, copyright has proved a dismal failure. Its inability to continue its evolution means that it does not serve Indigenous Australians, whose creative practices do not fit neatly within its confines. The notions of 'rights' or 'ownership' inherent in current copyright law do not reflect, and are therefore unable to protect, Indigenous intellectual property. The limits of protection are summed up by Janke et al: '[c]ommercial interests are protected … rather than interests pertaining to cultural integrity … [r]ights are valid for a limited period … whereas under Indigenous laws, they exist in perpetuity. Individual notions of ownership are recognised, rather than the Indigenous concept of communal ownership' (Janke 1997). Practical effects of these limitations are the loss of copyright of stories written down or electronically recorded by outsiders, and the absence of special consideration for, or protection of, secret or sacred material (Janke 1997). Mansell notes that Aboriginal intellectual property rights are poorly protected by current laws be they copyright, patent, plant breeders, design laws or trademarks where 'the creative customs and practices of Aborigines' are different to those of whites, who 'emphasise the individual and provide the mechanisms for the commercialisation of an individual's activity. The traditional base of Aboriginal art forms was not created with this in mind' (Mansell 196). Indigenous cultures have their own systems for the protection of intellectual property which are predicated not on the protection of commercial advantage but on the meaning and cultural integrity of the work of art (Janke 1996 15; 1998a 4). Some of these so-called works of art are, in fact, 'law bearers'; these 'Indigenous traditional cultural productions are … legal titles to clan land' (Morris 6). Ignoring this meaning of cultural productions is a little like your bank manager framing your mortgage document or rental agreement for its aesthetic qualities, and evicting you from your house. While copyright law does acknowledge legally-defined entities like corporations or government departments as copyright holders, it is too limited in its definitions to recognise the complex familial relationships and reciprocal responsibilities of Aboriginal society. Under Indigenous laws 'individuals are differentiated in their awareness of elements of the local culture and in the way they make use of those elements depending on such things as their sex, their moiety or skin group, and their initiatory status' (Johnson 10). Given the complex nature of Indigenous attitudes to rights in and ownership of intellectual property, those concerned with questions of fairness in the administration of copyright law must take a new perspective. While copyright law appears, in the main, to have been unable to deal with a system of law which pre-dates it by thousands of years, there have recently been some tentative steps towards a recognition of Indigenous concerns. Golvan, acknowledging that much work needs to be done 'to ensure that the legal system is meaningful to Aboriginal people', sees some aspects of the judgement in the Carpets Case1 which 'show a strong determination to seek to unite Western copyright principles with the need to deal with issues of indigenous cultural harm' (Golvan 10). And, in Foster v Mountford 1976 (discussed below), Justice Muirhead noted that 'revelation of the secrets [contained in the offending book] … may undermine the social and religious stability of [the] hard-pressed community' (quoted in McDonald 24). These examples show some willingness on the part of the courts to take into account matters which fall outside of common law. While there has as yet been very little litigation regarding copyright ownership of written works, there is no reason to assume that this situation will continue. The first case of infringement of Aboriginal copyright to surface in the media occurred in 1966, when David Malangi's painting 'The Hunter' was adapted without permission as part of the design for the new one-dollar note (Johnson 13). Ten years later, the Pitjantjatjara Council was involved in litigation with Dr Mountford, 'an anthropologist who had been given information by the Pitjantjatjara people … in 1940 … about tribal sites and objects, communal legends, secrets, paintings, engravings, drawings and totemic geography' (McDonald 23). Interestingly, this particular case relied not on copyright law but on a breach of confidence as 'the material … was not protected by copyright, being material in which copyright either did not subsist, or in which copyright had expired' (23). This is a good example of the lack of protection afforded by copyright law to intellectual property of religious and spiritual significance.2 At first glance, the implications of the 1992 Mabo land rights case for publishing in Australia today might seem remote. However, some of the implications of this historic case hold the potential for a new approach to intellectual property rights which may actually serve the interests of Indigenous artists and writers. The importance to intellectual property rights of the Mabo decision lies in the fact that 'the Court held that … local law remains in place except to the extent that it may be in conflict with British law, and until it is over-ruled by the colonisers' 3 (McDonald 26). This meant that not only the myth of terra nullius was repudiated, but with it any notion that Australia was 'either a wild and lawless place or a legal blank slate. Indigenous customary law … was thereby given both recognition and validity' (26). Gray goes further than this, and states in relation to native title and Aboriginal art: 'the two in fact are quite inseparable if not exactly the same' (Gray 12). This statement strongly emphasises Morris' concerns expressed above, regarding the diminution of authority of 'cultural productions' when they are perceived as merely artistic objects. Pearson, in discussing Mabo, talks of native title as the 'recognition space' 4 between common law and Aboriginal law (Pearson 154). He points out that Aboriginal law exists, is practised is in fact a 'social reality', and adds that 'it is fictitious to assume that Aboriginal law is extinguished where the common law is unable to recognise that law' 5 (155). Recently the Australian Society of Authors (Heiss) prepared two discussion papers and a checklist for non-Indigenous writers who want to write about Indigenous culture. One of the papers, 'Australian Copyright vs Indigenous Intellectual and Cultural Property Rights', reiterates the point that the Copyright Act 1968 'as it stands is unsuited to protecting Indigenous culture'. It briefly discusses the desirability of the sharing of copyright between the Indigenous storyteller or informant and their non-Indigenous collaborator an issue I will examine in greater depth in my thesis on cross-cultural editing. A problematic practice, shared copyright deals with 'ownership' in a way that satisfies white or western conceptions but may compromise the Indigenous sense of (Indigenous) communal title to the work. The importance of effective copyright law for Indigenous Australians goes beyond the earning of royalties or the commercial 'ownership' of creative work: it refers to the protection of their cultural heritage (Heiss). One solution suggested by Janke is an amendment to 'the Copyright Act to provide moral rights (rights of attribution, no false attribution and cultural integrity)' (in Heiss). Another possible, though longer term solution, may lie in the way common law itself develops. It has evolved over time, albeit slowly, to suit the needs of the particular environment economic, technological, cultural or other in which it has to operate. As Ginsberg remarks in the context of the introduction of moral rights law to two common law countries, the US and Australia, regarding the gradual adoption of moral rights: 'a Common Law approach to moral rights … slowly builds up to the general principle from gritty examples worked out fact-by-fact. This accretion method is familiar to both our countries' legal approaches' (Ginsberg 34). This same accretion method could be used to change copyright law so that it more adequately protects Indigenous intellectual property. Whatever solution is reached, at present the copyright laws are colour-blind when presented with the complex and alien nature of Indigenous cultural practice. In the interests of reconciliation, natural justice and the integrity of Indigenous culture, reform cannot come too soon. NOTES 1. Milpurrurru v Indofurn Pty Ltd, 1995; an Australian company copied and adapted various Indigenous works of art and had them woven into carpets in Vietnam, and imported into Australia. Permission to use the designs was never sought. An award of almost $200,000 was made to the 8 artists involved, and the offending carpets were withdrawn from sale. By 1996, Indofurn had been wound up and the director declared bankrupt: the artists have not received a cent. (Janke 1998b 9). 2. Fortunately for the Pitjantjatjara elders, the court held that Mountford's book did constitute a breach of confidence. 3. 'The Court held that the rights of Indigenous inhabitants of a colony are the same as the rights of a conquered nation: local law remains in place except to the extent that it may be in conflict with British law, and until it is over-ruled by the colonisers' (McDonald 26). 4. 'Native title is therefore the space between the two systems, where there is recognition. Native title is, for want of a better formulation the recognition space between the common law and the Aboriginal law which now afforded recognition in particular circumstances' (Pearson 154). 5. However, some cases subsequent to Mabo place limitations upon the recognition of Indigenous traditional law. Justice Mason in Coe v Commonwealth of Australia (1993, at 115) stated that 'Mabo … is at odds with the notion … that [Indigenous Australians] are entitled to any rights and interest other than those created or recognised by the law of the Commonwealth, the [relevant] State… and the common law' (McDonald 2627). References Coe v Commonwealth of Australia (1993) 68 ALJR 110 Ginsberg, J. (1992). Moral Rights in a Common Law System. Moral Rights in a Copyright System. P. Anderson and D. Saunders. Brisbane, Qld: Institute for Cultural Policy Studies, Griffith University. Golvan, C. (1996). 'Aboriginal Art and Copyright.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 512. Gray, S. (1996). 'Black Enough? Urban and non-traditional Aboriginal art and proposed legislative protection for Aboriginal art.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 29-44 Heiss, A. (2001). Australian Copyright vs Indigenous Intellectual and Cultural Property Rights, Australian Society of Authors. < http://www.asauthors.org/resources> Accessed 15.08.01. Janke, T. (1996). 'Protecting Australian indigenous arts and cultural expression.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 1327. Janke, T. (1998a). Editorial. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 45. Janke, T. (1998b). Federal Court awards record damages to Aboriginal artists. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 89. Janke, T., Frankel, M. & Company, Solicitors (1997). Proposals For The Recognition and Protection of Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property, AIATSIS for the Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property Project. <http://www.icip.lawnet.com.au/> Accessed 25.4.98. Johnson, V. (1996). Copyrites: Aboriginal art in the age of reproductive technologies. Sydney, NSW: NIAAA & Macquarie University. Mansell, M. (1997). Barricading our last frontier Aboriginal cultural and intellectual propery rights. Our land is Our Life: Land rights past, present and future. G. Yunupingu. St Lucia, Qld, UQP: 195209. Milpurrurru v Indofurn Pty Ltd (1995) 30 IPR 209. Morris, C. (1998). The Responsibility of Maintaining the Oldest Continuous Culture in the World. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 67. Pearson, N. (1997). The Concept of Native Title at Common Law. Our Land is Our Life: Land rights past, present and future. G. Yunupingu. St Lucia, Qld, UQP: 150162. Saunders, D. (1992). Early Modern Law of Copyright in England: Statutes, courts and book cultures. Authorship and Copyright. D. Saunders. London, Routledge: 3574. Links http://www.icip.lawnet.com.au/ http://www.asauthors.org/resources Citation reference for this article MLA Style McDonnell, Margaret. "The Colour of Copyright" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.3 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php>. Chicago Style McDonnell, Margaret, "The Colour of Copyright" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 3 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style McDonnell, Margaret. (2002) The Colour of Copyright. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(3). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php> ([your date of access]).

Stand-up is a global phenomenon. It is Australia’s most significant form of advocatorial theatre and a major platform for challenging stigma and prejudice. In the twenty-first century, Australian stand-up is transforming into a more culturally diverse form and extending the spectrum of material addressing human rights. Since the 1980s Australian stand-up routines have moved beyond the old colonial targets of England and America, and Indigenous comics such as Kevin Kopinyeri, Andy Saunders, and Shiralee Hood have gained an established following. Additionally, the turn to Asia is evident not just in trade agreements and the higher education market but also in cultural exchange and in the billing of emerging Asian stand-ups at mainstream events. The major cultural driver for stand-up is the Melbourne International Comedy Festival (MICF), Australia’s largest cultural event, now over 30 years old, and an important site for dissecting constructs of democracy and nationhood. As John McCallum has observed, popular humour in post-World War II Australia drew on widespread feelings of “displacement, migration and otherness—resonant topics in a country of transplanted people and a dispossessed indigenous population arguing over a distinct Australian identity” (205–06). This essay considers the traditional comic strategies of first and second generation immigrant stand-ups in Australia and compares them with the new wave of post 9/11 Asian-Australian and Middle-Eastern-Australian stand-ups whose personas and interrogations are shifting the paradigm. Self-identifying Muslim stand-ups challenge myths of dominant Australian identity in ways which many still find confronting. Furthermore, the theories of incongruity, superiority, and psychological release re-rehearsed in traditional humour studies, by figures such as Palmer (1994) and Morreall (2009), are predicated on models of humour which do not always serve live performance, especially stand-up with its relational dependence on audience interaction.Stand-ups who immigrated to Australia as children or whose parents immigrated and struggled against adversity are important symbols both of the Australian comedy industry and of a national self-understanding of migrant resilience and making good. Szubanski and Berger hail from earlier waves of European migrants in the 1950s and 1960s. Szubanski has written eloquently of her complex Irish-Polish heritage and documented how the “hand-me-down trinkets of family and trauma” and “the culture clash of competing responses to calamity” have been integral to the development of her comic success and the making of her Aussie characters (347). Rachel Berger, the child of Polish holocaust survivors, advertises and connects both identities on her LinkedIn page: “After 23 years as a stand-up comedian, growing up with Jewish guilt and refugee parents, Rachel Berger knows more about survival than any idiot attending tribal council on reality TV.”Anh Do, among Australia’s most famous immigrant stand-ups, identifies as one of the Vietnamese “boat people” and arrived as a toddler in 1976. Do’s tale of his family’s survival against the odds and his creation of a persona which constructs the grateful, happy immigrant clown is the staple of his very successful routine and increasingly problematic. It is a testament to the power of Do’s stand-up that many did not perceive the toll of the loss of his birth country; the grinding poverty; and the pain of his father’s alcoholism, violence, and survivor guilt until the publication of Do’s ironically titled memoir The Happiest Refugee. In fact, the memoir draws on many of the trauma narratives that are still part of his set. One of Do’s most legendary routines is the story of his family’s sea journey to Australia, told here on ABC1’s Talking Heads:There were forty of us on a nine metre fishing boat. On day four of the journey we spot another boat. As the boat gets closer we realise it’s a boatload of Thai pirates. Seven men with knives, machetes and guns get on our boat and they take everything. One of the pirates picks up the smallest child, he lifts up the baby and rips open the baby’s nappy and dollars fall out. And the pirate decides to spare the kid’s life. And that’s a good thing cos that’s my little brother Khoa Do who in 2005 became Young Australian of the Year. And we were saved on the fifth day by a big German merchant ship which took us to a refugee camp in Malaysia and we were there for around three months before Australia says, come to Australia. And we’re very glad that happened. So often we heard Mum and Dad say—what a great country. How good is this place? And the other thing—kids, as you grow up, do as much as you can to give back to this great country and to give back to others less fortunate.Do’s strategy is apparently one of genuflection and gratitude, an adoption of what McCallum refers to as an Australian post-war tradition of the comedy of inadequacy and embarrassment (210–14). Journalists certainly like to bill Do as the happy clown, framing articles about him with headlines like Rosemary Neill’s “Laughing through Adversity.” In fact, Do is direct about his gallows humour and his propensity to darkness: his humour, he says, is a means of countering racism, of “being able to win people over who might have been averse to being friends with an Asian bloke,” but Neill does not linger on this, nor on the revelation that Do felt stigmatised by his refugee origins and terrified and shamed by the crippling poverty of his childhood in Australia. In The Happiest Refugee, Do reveals that, for him, the credibility of his routines with predominantly white Australian audiences lies in the crafting of himself as an “Aussie comedian up there talking about his working-class childhood” (182). This is not the official narrative that is retold even if it is how Do has endeared himself to Australians, and ridding himself of the happy refugee label may yet prove difficult. Suren Jayemanne is well known for his subtle mockery of multiculturalist rhetoric. In his 2016 MICF show, Wu-Tang Clan Name Generator, Jayemanne played on the supposed contradiction of his Sri Lankan-Malaysian heritage against his teenage years in the wealthy suburb of Malvern in Melbourne, his private schooling, and his obsession with hip hop and black American culture. Jayemanne’s strategy is to gently confound his audiences, leading them slowly up a blind alley. He builds up a picture of how to identify Sri Lankan parents, supposedly Sri Lankan qualities such as an exceptional ability at maths, and Sri Lankan employment ambitions which he argues he fulfilled in becoming an accountant. He then undercuts his story by saying he has recently realised that his suburban background, his numerical abilities, his love of black music, and his rejection of accountancy in favour of comedy, in fact prove conclusively that he has, all along, been white. He also confesses that this is a bruising disappointment. Jayemanne exposes the emptiness of the conceits of white, brown, and black and of invented identity markers and plays on his audiences’ preconceptions through an old storyteller’s device, the shaggy dog story. The different constituencies in his audiences enjoy his trick equally, from quite different perspectives.Diana Nguyen, a second generation Vietnamese stand-up, was both traumatised and politicised by Pauline Hanson when she was a teenager. Hanson described Nguyen’s community in Dandenong as “yellow Asian people” (Filmer). Nguyen’s career as a community development worker combating racism relates directly to her activity as a stand-up: migrant stories are integral to Australian history and Nguyen hypothesises that the “Australian psyche of being invaded or taken over” has reignited over the question of Islamic fundamentalism and expresses her concern to Filmer about the Muslim youths under her care.Nguyen’s alarm about the elision of Islamic radicalism with Muslim culture drives an agenda that has led the new generation of self-identified Muslim stand-ups since 9/11. This post 9/11 world is described by Wajahat as gorged with “exaggerated fear, hatred, and hostility toward Islam and Muslim [. . . ] and perpetuated by negative discrimination and the marginalisation and exclusion of Muslims from social, political, and civic life in western societies.” In Australia, Aamer Rahman, Muhamed Elleissi, Khaled Khalafalla, and Nazeem Hussain typify this newer, more assertive form of second generation immigrant stand-up—they identify as Muslim (whether religious or not), as brown, and as Australian. They might be said to symbolise a logical response to Ghassan Hage’s famous White Nation (1998), which argues that a white supremacism underlies the mindset of the white elite in Australia. Their positioning is more nuanced than previous generations of stand-up. Nazeem Hussain’s routines mark a transformation in Australian stand-up, as Waleed Aly has argued: “ethnic comedy” has hitherto been about the parading of stereotypes for comfortable, mainstream consumption, about “minstrel characters” [. . .] but Hussain interrogates his audiences in every direction—and aggravates Muslims too. Hussain’s is the world of post 9/11 Australian Muslims. It’s about more than ethnic stereotyping. It’s about being a consistent target of political opportunism, where everyone from the Prime Minister to the Foreign Minister to an otherwise washed-up backbencher with a view on burqas has you in their sights, where bombs detonate in Western capitals and unrelated nations are invaded.Understandably, a prevalent theme among the new wave of Muslim comics, and not just in Australia, is the focus on the reading of Muslims as manifestly linked with Islamic State (IS). Jokes about mistaken identity, plane crashes, suicide bombing, and the Koran feature prominently. English-Pakistani Muslim, Shazia Mirza, gained comedy notoriety in the UK in the wake of 9/11 by introducing her routine with the words: “My name’s Shazia Mirza. At least that’s what it says on my pilot’s licence” (Bedell). Stand-ups Negin Farsad, Ahmed Ahmed, and Dean Obeidalla are all also activists challenging prevailing myths about Islam, skin colour and terrorism in America. Egyptian-American Ahmed Ahmed acquired prominence for telling audiences in the infamous Axis of Evil Comedy Tour about how his life had changed much for the worse since 9/11. Ahmed Ahmed was the alias used by one of Osama Bin Laden’s devotees and his life became on ongoing struggle with anti-terrorism officials doing security checks (he was once incarcerated) and with the FBI who were certain that the comedian was among their most wanted terrorists. Similarly, Obeidalla, an Italian-Palestinian-Muslim, notes in his TEDx talk that “If you have a Muslim name, you are probably immune to identity theft.” His narration of a very sudden experience of becoming an object of persecution and of others’ paranoia is symptomatic of a shared understanding of a post 9/11 world among many Muslim comics: “On September 10th 2001 I went to bed as a white American and I woke up an Arab,” says Obeidalla, still dazed from the seismic shift in his life.Hussain and Khalafalla demonstrate a new sophistication and directness in their stand-up, and tackle their majority white audiences head-on. There is no hint of the apologetic or deferential stance performed by Anh Do. Many of the jokes in their routines target controversial or taboo issues, which up until recently were shunned in Australian political debate, or are absent or misrepresented in mainstream media. An Egyptian-Australian born in Saudi Arabia, Khaled Khalafalla arrived on the comedy scene in 2011, was runner-up in RAW, Australia’s most prestigious open mic competition, and in 2013 won the best of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival for Devious. Khalafalla’s shows focus on racist stereotypes and identity and he uses a range of Middle Eastern and Indian accents to broach IS recruitment, Muslim cousin marriages, and plane crashes. His 2016 MICF show, Jerk, was a confident and abrasive routine exploring relationships, drug use, the extreme racism of Reclaim Australia rallies, controversial visa checks by Border Force’s Operation Fortitude, and Islamophobia. Within the first minute of his routine, he criticises white people in the audience for their woeful refusal to master Middle Eastern names, calling out to the “brown woman” in the audience for support, before lining up a series of jokes about the (mis)pronunciation of his name. Khalafalla derives his power on stage by what Oliver Double calls “uncovering.” Double contends that “one of the most subversive things stand-up can do is to uncover the unmentionable,” subjects which are difficult or impossible to discuss in everyday conversation or the broadcast media (292). For instance, in Jerk Khalafalla discusses the “whole hating halal movement” in Australia as a metaphor for exposing brutal prejudice: Let me break it down for you. Halal is not voodoo. It’s just a blessing that Muslims do for some things, food amongst other things. But, it’s also a magical spell that turns some people into fuckwits when they see it. Sometimes people think it’s a thing that can get stuck to your t-shirt . . . like ‘Oh fuck, I got halal on me’ [Australian accent]. I saw a guy the other day and he was like Fuck halal, it funds terrorism. And I was like, let me show you the true meaning of Islam. I took a lamb chop out of my pocket and threw it in his face. And, he was like Ah, what was that? A lamb chop. Oh, I fucking love lamb chops. And, I say you fool, it’s halal and he burst into flames.In effect, Khalafalla delivers a contemptuous attack on the white members of his audience, but at the same time his joke relies on those same audience members presuming that they are morally and intellectually superior to the individual who is the butt of the joke. Khalafalla’s considerable charm is a help in this tricky send-up. In 2015 the Australian Department of Defence recognised his symbolic power and invited him to join the Afghanistan Task Force to entertain the troops by providing what Doran describes as “home-grown Australian laughs” (7). On stage in Australia, Khalafalla constructs a persona which is an outsider to the dominant majority and challenges the persecution of Muslim communities. Ironically, on the NATO base, Khalafalla’s act was perceived as representing a diverse but united Australia. McCallum has pointed to such contradictions, moments where white Australia has shown itself to be a “culture which at first authenticates emigrant experience and later abrogates it in times of defiant nationalism” (207). Nazeem Hussain, born in Australia to Sri Lankan parents, is even more confrontational. His stand-up is born of his belief that “comedy protects us from the world around us” and is “an evolutionary defence mechanism” (8–9). His ground-breaking comedy career is embedded in his work as an anti-racism activist and asylum seeker supporter and shaped by his second-generation migrant experiences, law studies, community youth work, and early mentorship by American Muslim comic trio Allah Made Me Funny. He is well-known for his pioneering television successes Legally Brown and Salam Café. In his stand-up, Hussain often dwells witheringly on the failings and peculiarities of white people’s attempts to interact with him. Like all his routines, his sell-out show Fear of the Brown Planet, performed with Aamer Rahman from 2004–2008, explored casual, pathologised racism. Hussain deliberately over-uses the term “white people” in his routines as a provocation and deploys a reverse racism against his majority white audiences, knowing that many will be squirming. “White people ask me how can Muslims have fun if they don’t drink? Muslims have fun! Of course we have fun! You’ve seen us on the news.” For Hussain stand-up is “fundamentally an art of protest,” to be used as “a tool by communities and people with ideas that challenge and provoke the status quo with a spirit of counterculture” (Low 1–3). His larger project is to humanise Muslims to white Australians so that “they see us firstly as human beings” (1–3). Hussain’s 2016 MICF show, Hussain in the Membrane, both satirised media hype and hysterical racism and pushed for a better understanding of the complex problems Muslim communities face in Australia. His show also connected issues to older colonial traditions of racism. In a memorable and beautifully crafted tirade, Hussain inveighed against the 2015 Bendigo riots which occurred after local Muslims lodged an application to Bendigo council to build a mosque in the sleepy Victorian town. [YELLING in an exaggerated Australian accent] No we don’t want Muslims! NO we don’t want Muslims—to come invade Bendigo by application to the local council! That is the most bureaucratic invasion of all times. No place in history has been invaded by lodging an application to a local council. Can you see ISIS running around chasing town planners? Of course not, Muslims like to wait 6–8 months to invade! That’s a polite way to invade. What if white people invaded that way? What a better world we’d be living in. If white people invaded Australia that way, we’d be able to celebrate Australia Day on the same day without so much blood on our hands. What if Captain Cook came to Australia and said [in a British accent] Awe we would like to apply to invade this great land and here is our application. [In an Australian accent] Awe sorry, mate, rejected, but we’ll give you Bendigo.As Waleed Aly sees it, the Australian cultural majority is still “unused to hearing minorities speak with such assertiveness.” Hussain exposes “a binary world where there’s whiteness, and then otherness. Where white people are individuals and non-white people (a singular group) are not” (Aly). Hussain certainly speaks as an insider and goes so far as recognising his coloniser’s guilt in relation to indigenous Australians (Tan). Aly well remembers the hate mail he and Hussain received when they worked on Salam Café: “The message was clear. We were outsiders and should behave as such. We were not real Australians. We should know our place, as supplicants, celebrating the nation’s unblemished virtue.” Khalafalla, Rahman, Elleissi, and Hussain make clear that the new wave of comics identify as Muslim and Australian (which they would argue many in the audiences receive as a provocation). They have zero tolerance of racism, their comedy is intimately connected with their political activism, and they have an unapologetically Australian identity. No longer is it a question of whether the white cultural majority in Australia will anoint them as worthy and acceptable citizens, it is a question of whether the audiences can rise to the moral standards of the stand-ups. The power has been switched. For Hussain laughter is about connection: “that person laughs because they appreciate the point and whether or not they accept what was said was valid isn’t important. What matters is, they’ve understood” (Low 5). ReferencesAhmed, Ahmed. “When It Comes to Laughter, We Are All Alike.” TedXDoha (2010). 16 June 2016 <http://tedxtalks.ted.com/video/TEDxDoha-Ahmed-Ahmed-When-it-Co>.Aly, Waleed. “Comment.” Sydney Morning Herald 24 Sep. 2013."Anh Do". Talking Heads with Peter Thompson. ABC1. 4 Oct. 2010. Radio.Bedell, Geraldine. “Veiled Humour.” The Guardian (2003). 8 Aug. 2016 <https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2003/apr/20/comedy.artsfeatures?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other>.Berger, Rachel. LinkedIn [Profile page]. 14 June 2016 <http://www.linkedin.com/company/rachel-berger>.Do, Anh. The Happiest Refugee. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2010. Doran, Mark. "Service with a Smile: Entertainers Give Troops a Taste of Home.” Air Force 57.21 (2015). 12 June 2016 <http://www.defence.gov.au/Publications/NewsPapers/Raaf/editions/5721/5721.pdf>.Double, Oliver. Getting the Joke: The Inner Workings of Stand-Up Comedy. 2nd ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014.Filmer, Natalie. "For Dandenong Comedian and Actress Diana Nguyen The Colour Yellow has a Strong Meaning.” The Herald Sun 3 Sep. 2013.Hage, Ghassan. White Nation: Fantasies of a White Supremacy in a Multicultural Age. Sydney: Pluto Press, 1998.Hussain, Nazeem. Hussain in the Membrane. Melbourne International Comedy Festival, 2016.———. "The Funny Side of 30.” Spectrum. The Age 12 Mar. 2016.Khalafalla, Khaled. Jerk. Melbourne International Comedy Festival, 2016.Low, Lian. "Fear of a Brown Planet: Fight the Power with Laughter.” Peril: Asian Australian Arts and Culture (2011). 12 June 2016 <http://peril.com.au/back-editions/edition10/fear-of-a-brown-planet-fight-the-power-with-laughter>. McCallum, John. "Cringe and Strut: Comedy and National Identity in Post-War Australia.” Because I Tell a Joke or Two: Comedy, Politics and Social Difference. Ed. Stephen Wagg. New York: Routledge, 1998. Morreall, John. Comic Relief. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009.Neill, Rosemary. "Laughing through Adversity.” The Australian 28 Aug. 2010.Obeidalla, Dean. "Using Stand-Up to Counter Islamophobia.” TedXEast (2012). 16 June 2016 <http://tedxtalks.ted.com/video/TEDxEast-Dean-Obeidalla-Using-S;TEDxEast>.Palmer, Jerry. Taking Humour Seriously. London: Routledge, 1994. Szubanski, Magda. Reckoning. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 2015. Tan, Monica. "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Allahu Akbar! Nazeem Hussain's Bogan-Muslim Army.” The Guardian 29 Feb. 2016. "Uncle Sam.” Salam Café (2008). 11 June 2016 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeQPAJt6caU>.Wajahat, Ali, et al. "Fear Inc.: The Roots of the Islamophobia Network in America.” Center for American Progress (2011). 11 June 2016 <https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/religion/report/2011/08/26/10165/fear-inc>.

Images 1-6: Photographs by Rachelle Viader Knowles (2012)This article discusses the cross-cultural, augmented artwork Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments (2012) by Rachelle Viader Knowles and Judy Anderson, that premiered at the First Nations University of Canada Gallery in Regina, on 2 March 2012, as part of a group exhibition entitled Critical Faculties. The work consists of two elements: wall pieces with black and white Quick Response (QR) codes created using traditional beading and framed within red Stroud cloth; and a series of videos, accessible via scanning the beaded QR codes. The videos feature Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people from Saskatchewan, Canada telling stories about their own personal experiences with new technologies. A QR code is a matrix barcode made up of black square modules on a white square in a grid pattern that is optically machine-readable. Performance artist and scholar Rebecca Caines was invited by the artists to participate in the work as a subject in one of the videos. She attended the opening and observed how audiences improvised and interacted with the work. Caines then went on to initiate this collaborative writing project. Like the artwork it analyzes, this writing documents a series of curated experiences and conversations. This article includes excerpts of artist statements, descriptions of artists’s process and audience observation, and new sections of collaborative critical writing, woven together to explore the different augmented elements of the artwork and the results of this augmentation. These conversations and responses explore the cross-cultural processes that led to the work’s creation, and describe the results of the technological and social disruptions and slippages that occurred in the development phase and in the gallery as observers and artists improvised with the augmentation technology, and with each other. The article includes detail on the augmented art practices of storytelling, augmented reality (AR), and traditional beading, that collided and mutated during this project, exploring the tension and opportunity inherent in the human impulse to augment. Storytelling through Augmented Art Practices: The Creation of the WorkJUDY ANDERSON: I am a Plains Cree artist from the Gordon’s First Nation, which is located in Saskatchewan, Canada. As a Professor of Indian Fine Arts at the First Nations University of Canada, I research and continue to learn about traditional art making using traditional materials creating primarily beaded pieces such as medicine bags and drum sticks. Of particular interest to me, however, is how such traditional practices manifest in contemporary Aboriginal art. In this regard I have been greatly influenced by my colleague and friend, artist Ruth Cuthand, and specifically her Trading series, which reframed my thinking about beadwork (Art Placement), and later by the work of artists like Nadia Myer, and KC Adams (Myer; KC Adams). Cuthand’s incredibly successful series taught me that beadwork does not only beautify and “augment” our world, but it has the power to bring to the forefront important issues regarding Aboriginal people. As a result, I began to work on my own ideas on how to create beadworks that spoke to both traditional and contemporary thoughts.RACHELLE VIADER KNOWLES: At the time we started developing this project, we were both working in leadership roles in our respective Departments; Judy as Coordinator of Indian Fine Arts at First Nations University, and myself as Head of Visual Arts at the University of Regina. We began discussing ways that we could create more interconnection between our faculty members and students. At the centre of both our practices was a dialogic method of back and forth negotiation and compromise. JA: Rachelle had the idea that we should bead QR codes and make videos for the upcoming First Nations and University of Regina joint faculty exhibition. Over the 2011 Christmas holiday we visited each other’s homes, beaded together, and found out about each other’s lives by telling stories of the things we’ve experienced. I felt it was very important that our QR codes were not beaded in the exact same manner; Rachelle built up hers through a series of straight lines, whereas mine was beaded with a circle around the square QR code, which reflected the importance of the circle in my Cree belief system. It was important for me to show that even though we, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people, have similar experiences, we often have a different approach or way of thinking about similar things. I also suggested we frame the black and white beaded QR codes with bright red Stroud cloth, a heavy wool cloth originating in the UK that has been used in North America as trade cloth since the 1680s, and has become a significant part of First Nations fabric traditions.Since we were approaching this piece as a cross-cultural one, I chose the number seven for the amount of stories we would create because it is a sacred number in my own Plains Cree spiritual teachings. As such, we brought together seven pairs of people, including ourselves. The participants were drawn from family and friends from reserves and communities around Saskatchewan, including the city of Regina, as well as colleagues and students from the two university campuses. There were a number of different age ranges and socioeconomic backgrounds represented. We came together to tell stories about our experiences with technology, a common cross-cultural experience that seemed appropriate to the work.RVK: As the process of making the beadworks unfolded however, what became apparent to me was the sheer amount of hours it takes to create a piece of “augmentation” through beading, and the deeply social nature of the activity. We also worked together on the videos for the AR part of the artwork. Each participant in the videos was asked to write a short text about some aspect of their relationship to technology and communications. We took the short stories, arranged them into pairs, and used them to write short scripts. We then invited each pair to perform the scripts together on camera in my studio. The stories were really broad ranging. My own was a reflection of the profound discomfort of finding a blog where a man I was dating was publishing the story of our relationship as it unfolded. Other stories covered the loss of no longer being able to play the computer games from teenage years, first encounters with new technologies and social networks, secret admirers, and crank calls to emergency services. The storytelling and dialogue between us as we shared our practices became an important, but unseen layer of this “dialogical” work (Kester).REBECCA CAINES: I came along to Rachelle’s studio at the university to be a participant in a video for the piece. My co-performer was a young woman called Nova Lee. We laughed and chatted and talked and sat knee-to-knee together to film our stories about technology, both of us focusing on different types of Internet relationships. We were asked to read one line of our story at a time, interweaving together our poem of experience. Afterwards I asked her where her name was from. She told me it was from a song. She found the song on YouTube on Rachelle’s computer in the studio and played it for us. Here is a sample of the lyrics: I told my daddy I'd found a girlWho meant the world to meAnd tomorrow I'd ask the Indian chiefFor the hand of Nova LeeDad's trembling lips spoke softlyAs he told me of my life twangs then he said I could never takeThis maiden for my wifeSon, the white man and Indians were fighting when you were bornAnd a brave called Yellow Sun scalped my little boySo I stole you to get even for what he'd doneThough you're a full-blooded Indian, son I love you as much as my own little fellow that's deadAnd, son, Nova Lee is your sisterAnd that's why I've always saidSon, don't go near the IndiansPlease stay awaySon, don't go near the IndiansPlease do what I say— Rex Allen. “Don’t Go Near the Indians.” 1962. Judy explained to Rachelle and I that this was a common history of displacement in Canada, people taken away, falling in love with their relatives without knowing, perhaps sensing a connection, always longing for a home (Campbell). I thought, “What a weight for this young woman to bear, this name, this history.” Other participants also learnt about each other this way through the sharing of stories. Many had come to Canada from other places, each with different cultural and colonial resonances. Through these moments of working together, new understandings formed that deeply affected the participants. In this way, layers of storytelling form the heart of this work.JA: Storytelling holds an incredibly special place in Aboriginal people’s lives; through them we learned the laws, rules, and regulations that governed our behaviour as individuals, within our family, our communities, and our nations. These stories included histories (personal and communal), sacred teachings, the way the world used to be, creation stories, medicine stories, stories regarding the seasons and animals, and stories that defined our relationship with the environment, etc. The stories we asked for not only showed that we as Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people have the same experiences, but also work in the way that a traditional story would. For example, Rachelle’s story taught a good lesson about how it is important to learn about the individual you are dating—had she not, her whole life could have been laid out to any who may have come across that man’s blog. My story spoke to the need to look up and observe what is around you instead of being engrossed in your own little world, because you don’t know who could be lifting your information. They all showed a common interest in sharing information, and laughing at mistakes and life lessons.Augmented Storytelling and Augmented RealityRC: This work relies on the augmented reality (AR) qualities of the QR code. Pavlik and Bridges suggest AR, even through relatively limited tools like a QR code, can have a significant impact on storytelling practices: “AR enriches an individual’s experience with the real world … Stories are put in a local context and act as a supplement to a citizen’s direct experience with the world” (Pavlik and Bridges 21). Their research shows that AR technologies like QR codes brings the story to life in a three dimensional and interactive form that allows the user a level of participation impossible in traditional, analogue media. They emphasize the different viewing possible in AR storytelling as: The new media storytelling model is nonlinear. The storyteller conceptualizes the audience member not as a consumer of the story engaged in a third-person narrative, but rather as a participant engaged in a first-person narrative. The storyteller invites the participant to explore the story in a variety of ways, perhaps beginning in the middle, moving across time, or space, or by topic. (Pavlik and Bridges 22) In their case studies, Pavlik and Bridges show AR has the “potential to become a viable storytelling format with a diverse range of options that engage citizens through sight, sound, or haptic experiences… to produce participatory, immersive, and community-based stories” (Pavlik and Bridges 39). The personal stories in this artwork were remediated a number of different ways. They were written down, then separated into one-line fragments, interwoven with our partners, and re-read again and again for the camera, before being edited and processed. Marked by the artists clearly as ‘Aboriginal’ and ‘non Aboriginal’ and placed alongside works featuring traditional beading, these stories were marked and re-inscribed by complex and fragmented histories of indigenous and non-indigenous relations in Canada. This history was emphasized as the QR codes were also physically located in the First Nations University of Canada, a unique indigenous space.To view this artwork in its entirety, therefore, two camera-enabled and internet-capable mobile devices were required to be used simultaneously. Due to the way they were accessed and played back through augmented reality technologies, stories in the gallery were experienced in nonlinear fashions, started part way through, left before completion, or not in sync with the partner they were designed to work with. The audience experimented with the video content, stopping and starting it to produce new combinations of words and images. This experience was also affected by chance as the video files online were on a cycle, after a set period of time, the scan would suddenly produce a new story. These augmented stories were recreated and reshaped by participants in dialogue with the space, and with each other. Augmented Stories and Improvised CommunitiesRC: In her 1997 study of the reception of new media art in galleries, Beryl Graham surveys the types of audience interaction common to new media art practices like AR art. She “reveals patterns of use of interactive artworks including the relation of use-time to gender, aspects of intimidation, and social interaction.” In particular, she observes “a high frequency of collective use of artworks, even when the artworks are designed to be used by one person” (Graham 2). What Graham describes as “collective” and “social,” I see as a type of improvisation engaging with difference, differences between audience members, and differences between human participants and the alien nature of sophisticated, interactive technologies. Improvisation “embodies real-time creative decision-making, risk-taking, and collaboration” (Heble). In the improvisatory act, participants participate in active listening in order to work with different voices, experiences, and practices, but share a common focus in the creative endeavour. Notions such as “the unexpected” or “the mistake” are constantly reconfigured into productive material. However, as leading improvisation studies scholar Ajay Heble suggests, “improvisation must be considered not simply as a musical or creative form, but as a complex social phenomenon that mediates transcultural inter-artistic exchanges that produce new conceptions of identity, community, history, and the body” (Heble). I watched at the opening as audience members in Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments paired up, successfully or unsuccessfully attempted to scan the code and download the video, and physically wrapped themselves around their partner (often a stranger) in order to hear the quiet audio in the loud gallery. The audience began to help each other through the process, to improvise together. The QR code was not always a familiar or comfortable object. The audience often had to install a QR code reader application onto their own device first, and then proceed to try to get the reader to work. Underfunded university Wi-Fi connections dropped, Apple ID logins failed, devices stalled. There were sudden loud cries when somebody successfully scanned their half of the work, and then rushes and scrambles as small groups of people attempted to sync their videos to start at the same time. The louder the gallery got, the closer the pairs had to stand to each other to hear the video through the device’s tiny speakers. Many people looked over someone else’s shoulder without their knowledge. Sometimes people were too close for comfort and behavior was negotiated and adapted. Sometimes, the pairs gave up trying; sometimes they borrowed each other’s devices, sometimes their phone or tablet was incompatible. Difference created new improvisations, or introduced sudden stops or diversions in the activities taking place. The theme of the work was strengthened every time an improvised negotiation took place, every time the technology faltered or succeeded, every time a digital or physical interaction was attempted. Through the combination of augmented bead practices used in an innovative way, and augmented technology with new audiences, new types of improvisatory responses could take place.Initially I found it difficult to not simplify and stereotype the processes taking place, to read it as a metaphor of the differing access to resources and training in Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities, a clear example of the ways technology-use marks wealth and status. As I moved through the space, caught up in dialogic, improvisatory encounters, cross-cultural experiences broke down, but did not completely erase, these initial markers of difference. Instead, layers of interaction and information began to be placed over the Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal identities in the gallery. My own assumptions were placed under pressure as I interacted with the artists and the other participants in the space. My identity as a relative newcomer to Saskatchewan was slowly augmented by the stories and experiences I shared and heard, and the audience members shifted back and forth between being experts in the aspects of the stories and technologies that were familiar, and asking for help to translate and activate the stories and processes that were alien.Augmented Art PracticesJA: There is an old saying, “if it doesn’t move, bead it.” I think that this desire to augment with the decorative is handed down through traditional thoughts and beliefs regarding clothing. Once nomadic we did not accumulate many goods, as a result, the goods we did keep were beautified though artistic practices including quilling and eventually beadwork (painting too). And our clothing was thought of as spiritual because it did the important act of protecting us from the elements, therefore it was thought of as sacred. To beautify the clothing was to honour your spirit while at the same time it honoured the animal that had given its life to protect you (Berlo and Phillips). I think that this belief naturally grew to include any item, after all, there is nothing like an object or piece of clothing that is beaded well—no one can resist it. There is, however, a belief that humans should not try to mimic perfection, which is reserved for the Creator and in many cases a beader will deliberately put a bead out of place.RC: When new media produces unexpected results, or as Rachelle says, when pixels “go out of place”, it can be seen as a sign that humans are (deliberately or accidently) failing to use the digital technology in the way it was intended. In Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments the theme of cross cultural encounters and technological communication was only enhanced by these moments of displacement and slippage and the improvisatory responses that took place. The artists could not predict the degree of slippage that would occur, but from their catalogue texts and the conversations above, it is clear that collective negotiation was a desired outcome. By creating a QR code based artwork that utilized augmented art practices to create new types of storytelling, the artists allowed augmented identities to develop, slip, falter, and be reconfigured. Through the dialogic art practices of traditional beading and participatory video work, Anderson and Knowles began to build new modes of communication and knowledge sharing. I believe there could be productive relationships to be further explored between what Judy calls the First Nations “desire to bead” whilst acknowledging human fallibility; and the ways Rachelle aims to technologically-augment conversation and storytelling through contemporary AR and video practices despite, or perhaps because of the possibility of risk and disruptions when bodies and code interact. What kind of trust and reciprocity becomes possible across cultural divides when this can be acknowledged as a common human quality? How could beads and/or pixels being “out of place” expose fault lines and opportunities in these kinds of cross-cultural knowledge transfer? As Judy suggested in our conversations, such work requires active engagement from the audience in the process that does not always occur. “In those instances, does the piece fail or people fail the piece? I'm not sure.” In crossing back and forth between these different types of augmentation impulses, and by creating improvisatory, dialogic encounters in the gallery, these artists began the tentative, complex, and vital process of cultural exchange, and invited participants and audience to take this step with them and to work “across traditional and contemporary modes of production” to “use the language and process of art to speak, listen, teach and learn” (Knowles and Anderson).ReferencesAdams, K.C. “Cyborg Hybrid \'cy·borg 'hi·brid\ n.” KC Adams, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://www.kcadams.net/art/arttotal.html›. Allen, Rex. “Don't Go Near the Indians.” Rex Allen Sings and Tells Tales of the Golden West. Mercury, 1962. LP and CD.Anderson, Judy, and Rachelle Viader Knowles. Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments. First Nations University of Canada Gallery; Slate Gallery, Regina, Saskatchewan, 2012. Art Placement. “Ruth Cuthand”. Artists. Art Placement, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://www.artplacement.com/gallery/artists.php›.Berlo, Janet Catherine, and Ruth B. Phillips. Native North American Art. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Campbell, Maria. Stories of the Road Allowance People. Penticton, B.C.: Theytus Books, 1995. Critical Faculties. Regina: University of Regina and First Nations University of Canada, 2012. Graham, Beryl C.E. “A Study of Audience Relationships with Interactive Computer-Based Visual Artworks in Gallery Settings, through Observation, Art Practice, and Curation”. Dissertation. University of Sunderland, 1997. Heble, Ajay. “About ICASP.” Improvisation, Community, and Social Practice. University of Guelph; Social Sciences Humanities Research Council of Canada, n.d. 16 Nov. 2011 ‹http://www.improvcommunity.ca/›.Kester, Grant. Conversation Pieces: Community and Communication in Modern Art. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Knowles, Rachelle Viader. Rachelle Viader Knowles, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://uregina.ca/rvk›.Myre, Nadia. Nadia Myre. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://nadiamyre.com/NadiaMyre/home.html›. Pavlik, John G., and Frank Bridges. “The Emergence of Augmented Reality (AR) as a Storytelling Medium in Journalism.” Journalism & Communication Monographs 15.4 (2013): 4-59.