Journal articles on the topic 'Dixson Library'

This paper concentrates on the spatial deixis and its morphological structures in Mǝriaq-mǝriqu dialect of Sasak language. It includes in a typological study with qualitative method. This research employs two forms of data; primary data and secondary data. The primary data include the information obtained from the informants from every dialect. Secondary data are the data obtained from any documents of Sasak language such as folklore. There are two methods of data collection; field linguistic method and library method. Of the two methods, there are two techniques used in collecting data: Observation and interview. The results of this study accommodated all types of demonstratives by Diessel (1999) and Dixon (1988) and discover some new types contributing to the theory. The types of spatial deixis in this dialect are pronominal, adnominal, quantifier, intensifier, identificational, adverbial, verbal, and referential. In term of morphological structure, the demonstrative in this dialect is constructed of some affixes and the combination of two or more spatial deixis. Nominal demonstrative usually becomes stem of other demonstratives. Quantifier is constructed of prefix ‘se-‘plus manner demonstrative adverb(MDA). Intensifier is constructed of prefix ‘s-‘ plus pronominal, LDA is constructed of prefix ‘n-‘ plus pronominal for proximal, MDA is constructed of prefix ‘mer-‘ and ‘m-‘ plus pronominals, verbal demonstrative is constructed of confix ‘pe-q’ plus MDA, Referential demonstrative is constructed of MDA plus suffix ‘-q’.

The type 4 phosphodiesterase (PDE) family comprises four enzymes (4A, 4B, 4C and 4D) that are characterized by their specificity for cAMP and selective inhibition by the antidepressant drug rolipram {4-[3-(cyclopentoxyl)-4-methoxyphenyl]2-pyrrolidone}. In common with other PDEs, they consist of a central conserved domain associated with catalytic activity in addition to two N-terminal upstream conserved regions (UCR1 and UCR2) that are unique to the type 4 enzymes. We have isolated a 2 kb cDNA encoding a full-length type 4A PDE {HS PDE4A4B [Bolger, Michaeli, Martins, St.John, Steiner, Rodgers, Riggs, Wigler and Ferguson (1993) Mol. Cell Biol. 13, 6558–6571]} from a human frontal cortex cDNA library. Northern blot analysis showed that the major PDE4A mRNA of 4.5 kb was widely distributed in different human tissues. The recombinant PDE4A expressed in COS cells had a molecular mass of approx. 117 kDa as revealed by SDS/PAGE/Western blotting with a PDE4A-specific antibody and was specific for cAMP with a Km of 4.8 μM. The enzyme activity was potently inhibited by R-rolipram (IC50 204 nM) and showed a 2.7-fold stereoselectivity over the S enantiomer. Analysis of the kinetics of inhibition indicated that R-rolipram did not behave as a simple competitive inhibitor. Dixon replots suggested that there was more than one mode of interaction consistent with the detection in the enzyme of a high-affinity binding site for R-rolipram with a Kd of 2.3 nM. Truncation of the PDE4A enzyme by deletion mutagenesis showed that neither of the UCRs was required for catalytic activity and identified an approx. 71 kDa core enzyme with a Km for cAMP of 3.3 μM. In contrast with the full-length PDE4A, R-rolipram behaved as a simple competitive inhibitor of this form of the enzyme with decreased potency (IC50 1022 nM) and no stereoselectivity. In addition, no high-affinity rolipram-binding site was detected in the truncated enzyme, indicating that this interaction involves sequences upstream of the catalytic domain of the enzyme.

Background:Chronic pain is common in rheumatic and musculoskeletal conditions, and a major driver of disability worldwide. Knowledge gaps exist with respect to correct estimates of chronic pain [1], what causes it and how best to manage it [2]. To address this, researchers need validated methods to measure pain in large, representative populations. Though many authors have recognised the potential benefits of paper-based and digital pain manikins [3]–[5], it is unknown to what extent studies have adopted digital manikins as a data collection tool.Objectives:The objective of our review was to identify and characterise published studies that have used digital pain manikins as a data collection tool.Methods:We systematically searched six electronic databases, including Medline, CINAHL, Embase, Scopus, IEEE Xplore digital library, ACM Digital Library, on 3-4 of November 2020 by using a pre-defined search strategy. We included a study in our review if it used a digital manikin for self-reporting any pain aspect (e.g., intensity, type) by people suffering from pain, and if its full text was published in English. We conducted this review by following the PRISMA reporting guidelines and conducted a descriptive synthesis of findings, including manikin-derived outcome measures.Results:Our search yielded 4,685 unique studies. After full text screening of 705 articles, we included 14 studies in our review. Most articles were excluded because they used either paper-based manikins or didn’t include enough details to determine that the manikin was digital (n=386). The majority of included studies were published in Europe (n=11). Most studies collected data on a manikin once (n=11); from people with pain conditions (n=9); and in clinical settings (n=9). There was only one study that collected digital pain manikin data in a large sized (i.e., ~20,000) population-based survey.In most studies participants shaded any painful area on manikin (n=9) and did not enable participants to record location-specific pain aspects (n=11). None of the manikins enabled participants to record location-specific pain intensity. Pain distribution (i.e. number or percentage of pre-defined body areas or locations experiencing pain) and pain extent (i.e. number or percentage of shaded pixels) were commonly used manikin-derived outcome measures. In six studies, a heat map was used to summarise the extent of pain across the population.Conclusion:Digital pain manikins have been available since the 1990s but their adoption in research has been slow. Few manikins enabled location-specific pain recording suggesting that the digital nature of the manikin is not yet fully utilised. Future development of a validated digital pain manikin supporting self-reporting of the location and intensity of pain, usable across any device and screen size, may increase uptake and value.References:[1]S. E. E. Mills, K. P. Nicolson, and B. H. Smith, “Chronic pain: a review of its epidemiology and associated factors in population-based studies,” Br. J. Anaesth., vol. 123, no. 2, pp. e273–e283, Aug. 2019.[2]D. B. Reuben et al., “National Institutes of Health Pathways to Prevention Workshop: The Role of Opioids in the Treatment of Chronic Pain,” Ann. Intern. Med., vol. 162, no. 4, p. 295, Feb. 2015.[3]R. Waller, P. Manuel, and L. Williamson, “The Swindon Foot and Ankle Questionnaire: Is a Picture Worth a Thousand Words?,” ISRN Rheumatol., vol. 2012, pp. 1–8, 2012.[4]M. Barbero et al., “Clinical Significance and Diagnostic Value of Pain Extent Extracted from Pain Drawings: A Scoping Review,” Diagnostics, vol. 10, no. 8, p. 604, Aug. 2020.[5]S. M. Ali, W. J. Lau, J. McBeth, W. G. Dixon, and S. N. van der Veer, “Digital manikins to self-report pain on a smartphone: A systematic review of mobile apps,” Eur. J. Pain, vol. 25, no. 2, pp. 327–338, Feb. 2021.Disclosure of Interests:None declared

Abstract Rab27B is a member of the Rab small GTPases that belong to the RAS-like GTPase superfamily. Rab27B has been shown to regulate endosomal trafficking, exosome secretion and delivery of secretory granules. However, the role of Rab27B in colorectal cancer (CRC) tumor biology is unknown. Using CRC tissue microarrays, a significant upregulation of Rab27B was detected in staged adenocarcinoma compared to normal colon tissue. Interestingly, microsatellite instable (MSI) tumors showed a higher increase in Rab27B (2.4-fold) than microsatellite stable (MSS) tumors (1.6-fold), consistent with TCGA data. To study the role of Rab27B in CRC, we targeted Rab27B in MSI HCT116 cell line by CRISPR-Cas9 deletion and siRNA knockdown. In both cases, loss of Rab27B resulted in a dysregulation of cellular autophagy. Rab27B-depleted cells showed an abnormal accumulation of autophagy vesicles and increase in autophagy markers LC3-II and p62, indicating a defect in autophagy flux. To characterize this autophagy defect, we used eGFP-mCherry-LC3 reporter, lysotracker and Cyto-ID staining to identify that autophagy flux is blocked at the autophagosome/lysosome fusion step when Rab27B is lost. As autophagy has been shown to have a pro-survival role in tumor growth and stress response, we hypothesized that this defect in autophagy flux resulting from Rab27B deletion will impact cellular stress response and reduce tumor growth. While Rab27B knockout (KO) cells show similar in vitro 2D-growth characteristics as wildtype cells under normal conditions, loss of Rab27B resulted in a 60% reduction in cell viability in response to starvation conditions. Similarly, a 94% reduction in colony formation was observed when grown in soft agar, along with deficiencies in spheroid formation. In vivo, Rab27B KO cells showed a major reduction (p<0.0001) in tumor growth xenografts compared to wildtype HCT116 cells. To analyze the therapeutic potential of Rab27B inhibition in CRC, we performed a high throughput drug screen to identify small-molecule inhibitors of Rab27B GTPase activity in vitro from a panel of ∼2,100 compounds contained within the KU-HTSL chemical library. This screening resulted in the identification of three compounds (BTB00809, BTB03584, and KM01532) that demonstrated Rab27B GTPase activity inhibition. Taken together, these results demonstrate a new role of Rab27B in the autophagy trafficking process in CRC. Futures studies will focus on further characterizing the relationship among Rab27B overexpression, microsatellite instability and autophagy in vitro and in vivo using Rab27B knockout mouse model, as well as investigating whether Rab27B can be targeted as a potential new therapeutic strategy. Citation Format: Sahida Afroz, Ranjan Preet, Vikalp Vishwakarma, Dan A. Dixon. Overexpression of the small GTPase Rab27B promotes tumor growth by regulating autophagy flux in colorectal cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR Special Conference on Colorectal Cancer; 2022 Oct 1-4; Portland, OR. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(23 Suppl_1):Abstract nr PR003.

Abstract Autophagy is a dynamic, multi-step process that cells use to degrade damaged, abnormal, and potentially harmful cellular substances. While autophagy is maintained at a basal level in all cells, it is activated at a higher level in many cancer cells and promotes tumor growth, anti-tumor immune response, and resistance to cancer therapy. As a result, autophagy is increasingly being recognized to have an important role in cancer progression and emerging as a potential target for cancer therapy. We recently discovered that small GTPase Rab27B, a well-known regulator of vesicle trafficking and exosome secretion, also regulates autophagy process. Depletion of Rab27B in colorectal cancer (CRC) cells by CRISPR-Cas9 and siRNA resulted in an abnormal accumulation of autophagy vesicles and increase in autophagy markers LC3-II and p62 indicating a defect in the autophagy flux. To characterize this autophagy defect, we used EGFP-mCherry-LC3 reporter, lysotracker and Cyto-ID staining and identified that the degradation step of the autophagy flux is inhibited when Rab27B is silenced. As autophagy has been shown to have a pro-survival role in tumor growth and stress response, we hypothesized that autophagy defect resulting from Rab27B deletion will cause reduced stress response and tumor growth. Indeed, Rab27B knockout resulted in a 60% reduction in cell viability in response to starvation and a 94% reduction in colony formation in soft agar assay. Rab27B deletion also prevented spheroid formation in vitro. Finally, to analyze the effect of Rab27B deletion in tumor formation in vivo, we performed a xenograft study with wildtype and Rab27B knockout CRC cells HCT116 and observed that Rab27B deletion resulted in a significant reduction of tumor size (p<0.0001). Next, to analyze the therapeutic potential of Rab27B inhibition in CRC, we sought to identify small-molecule inhibitors of Rab27B GTPase activity in vitro through high-throughput drug screening from a panel of ∼2,100 compounds contained within the KU-HTSL chemical library. This screening resulted in the identification of three compounds (BTB00809, BTB03584, and KM01532) that demonstrated Rab27B GTPase activity inhibition. Interestingly, inhibition of Rab27B in CRC cells with the compound km01532 resulted in a similar increase of LC3-II in CRC cells HCT116 and SW480 as seen in the Rab27B knockout. Taken together, these results demonstrate a new role of Rab27B in the autophagy trafficking process in CRC. Futures studies will focus on investigating the mechanism of how Rab27B functions in the autophagy process, and whether Rab27B can be targeted as a potential therapeutic strategy for CRC using the small molecule compound km01532. Citation Format: Sahida Afroz, Ranjan Preet, Vikalp Vishwakarma, Dan Dixon. Characterization of novel role for Rab27B in autophagy regulation in colorectal cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 3002.

Abstract Introduction: Nano formulations continue to be a very attractive venue for the development of “smart” drug delivery systems. Emerging green (organic) formulations do not require harsh chemical solvents and are easy to prepare. Solid Core Lipid Formulations: The lipid phase (l.p.) contained a solid fatty acid (lauric acid) and liquid lipid (oleic acid) with or without Doxorubicin. 55° surfactant containing an emulsifying agent (Brij-58) mixed with nonionic surfactant (Span 80) was dropwise added. The emulsion was cooled to form temperature-activated nanoparticles (TAN). Before usage, the emulsion was activated by heating to 41°C. Experiments: B16F10 melanoma, U87-MR glioblastoma, MDA-MB-231 and MCF-7 breast cancer cell lines were analyzed on a variety of quantitative Imaging platforms. Results iCyte (CompuCyte): Laser based instrument for obtaining quantitative fluorescence and light scatter measurements. We obtained single endpoint dosage response curves to compare the TAN with free Dox, and found the TANs were effective at 4-6 times lower equivalent Dox concentrations. Holomonitor (Phase Holographic Imaging): The HM4 resides in tissue culture incubators and allows long-term medium resolution holographic imaging. It offersa complete image processing library including routines for proliferation and cell tracking. We devised methods for 4-dimensional imaging (X pos. vs. Y pos. vs Time, vs. Density). Thus, we are able to monitor the temporal effects of the compounds. Cell Explorer (Nanolive): The Cell Explorer has a a rotating mirror that directs the laser in an orbit around the sample to obtain super-resolution 3D tomographs. It enables long-term time-lapse imaging via stage-top environmental chamber. It is well suited for quantifying sub cellular components such as mitochondria and lipids. HT-2 (Tomocube): The HT-2 is a label-free ultra-high resolution holotomography system complemented by fluorescence capabilities. Combined RI and fluorescence images give the highest information content of any of the platforms. Discussion: In 2012, Dixon et al described ferroptosis as a distinct new form of cell death through the iron dependent accumulation of oxidatively damaged phospholipids. They state that a diagnostic feature is mitochondrial shrinkage and collapse. We confirmed this in our tomographic imaging images. Other features that were detected and consistent with ferroptosis are loss of nuclear contents, a thickening of the nuclear membrane, and peri-nuclear mitochondrial accumulation. In 48-hour HM4 plots control cells show numerous mitotic events. Dox treated cells show cellular enlargement but no mitotic events. In the TAN population at about 20 hours, there is sudden death occurring in the entire population. Conclusion: Our experiments suggest a high potency of the newly developed TANs. Ferroptosis is the most likely mechanism of action. Citation Format: Farzana Parveen, Nina Filipczak, Asadullah Madni, Vladimir P. Torchilin, Ed Luther. Characterization of a green, temperature activated nano formulation that drives the mechanism of doxorubicin toxicity from apoptosis to ferroptosis [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 5327.

Abstract Many scientific studies showed that the carcinogenic effects of environmental contamination of several metal and metalloids on bone marrow stem cells of human body. These carcinogens include, Cadmium, Mercury, Chromium, Aluminum, Nickel and Arsenic. However, there was no such analysis for elucidating the mechanism of carcinogenic effects and epigenetic reprogramming of human bone marrow stem cells. In this study, we analyzed the carcinogenic effects of mentioned carcinogens, and the mechanism of epigenetic reprogramming using NIH Toxicology Data Network (TOXNET), Comparative Toxico-genomics Database (CTD), AACR Genomics Evidence Neoplasia Information Exchange (GENIE) database, database of Environmental Health Perspectives (EHP), National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS), and other bioinformatics database. We found from CTD analysis that the chemical gene interactions showed highly expressed of 272 common genes with miR140 by Cadmium, Mercury from total 3704 genes (approximately 7% affected genes). The AACR GENIE database analysis showed CDKN3, is associated with bone cancer (2 clinical data), HDAC7, TP53, MAPK3K1, MAP2K2 (8 clinical data) found among 272 genes regulated by Cadmium and Mercury. The CTD analysis showed the chemical gene interactions of highly expressed of 102 common genes with miR140 by Chromium, Mercury from a total of 1406 genes; 268 common genes with CD84, CD226 by Mercury, Nickel from a total of 5032 genes; 103 common genes with CD226 by Aluminum, Mercury from a total of 2556 genes; 248 common genes by Arsenic, Mercury from total 5508 genes. Among these 5508 genes, 248 common genes with ALDHA1, 247 common genes with CD40, 248 common genes with CD44, 247 common genes with CD423, 247 common genes with miR10A by Arsenic, Mercury from total 2556 genes. The epigenetic mechanisms of histone modifications (H3K9me3, H3K27me3, H3K27ac, H3K36me3, H3K4me1, H3K4me3 of B cells, hemopoietic stem cells, mesenchymal bone marrow, and chondrocyte stem cells and miRNAs) and these carcinogens have been revealed by the database of EHP, NIEHS, the NIH Roadmap Epigenomics Mapping Consortium, the National Center for Biotechnology Information (NCBI), and U.S. National Library of Medicine (NLM) database. Our previous study reported that the regulation of epigenetic bivalent histone modifications at transcript starts sequences (TSS) of target genes for heterogenic adult stem cells (CSCs)reprogramming and our current bioinformatics analysis revealed that TP53 is epigenetically reprogrammed with close interaction of thirteen genes by these carcinogens. Therefore, it is important to find the actual epigenetic mechanism both genomic and epigenomic transcriptional regulation and carcinogenic effects of these carcinogens on bone marrow stem cells, and our current study revealed this important relationship. Citation Format: Benedrica Solomon, Richgena Sturrup, Jada Dixon, Kiyona Jackson, Biancaliz Cruz, Charlissia Ferguson, Taylor Walker, Ralph Elisson, Nathan Harris, Jesennia Bonilla, Rose Mary Stiffin, Marilyn Sherman, Alessandra Manzon, Swarnava Das, Madhumita Das, Jayanta Kumar Das. Carcinogenic effects of metal and metalloids through epigenetic reprogramming of human bone marrow stem cells: The bioinformatics database analysis [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 5830.

This study aims to explain the gold miningarea in in Gunong Ujeun, Aceh jaya by using the theories of Thomas Homer-Dixon of the environmental scarcity. The data in this research was obtained through literature (library research) and field research. The research literature is done by reading textbooks, legislation, and other reading materials related to this research. While the field research conducted by interviewing informants.The results showed that the gold mining of people in Gunong Ujeun district of Aceh Jaya district is vulnerable to conflict. Theconflict that occurred in the Gunong Ujeun area is a horizontal latent conflict between the immigrant community and the local community. The causes of conflict are (1) logging in Gunong Ujeun (2) more difficult to get fresh fish. (3) Environmental pollution resulting from the use of mercury and cyanide. If the cause of the conflict is not well managed then it is feared that it will have an impact on the brutal conflict or even lead to acts of violence between migrantminers and local communities surrounding the gold mining areas that are disturbed by the security and comfort. Keywords: Conflict, environmental degradationand Peoples Mining.

IntroductionContemporary societies are increasingly becoming sites in which it is more difficult for people to respectfully negotiate disagreements about human diversity. This is exemplified by people who must oppose oppressive social conventions that marginalise them because they identify as belonging to one or more minority groups. One of the key factors in this dynamic is how people’s being in particular sites impacts their being as a person. The “fate of the stranger” is shaped by the spaces they inhabit and people are labelled as “insiders or outsiders” (Amin Land 2); for many people this means our societies are sites of dissatisfaction. For example, in some sites asylum seekers and refugees are referred to as “co-habitant and potential citizen,” while in other sites they are referred to as “impure and threats” (Amin Land 2). This process of defining a person’s being is also experienced by people who are “multi-abled, multi-sexed, multi-sexual, or multi-faith” (Garbutt 275). This article provides a reading of the Human Library in relation to contemporary understandings of space from human geographers such as Ash Amin, as a way of rethinking our everyday spaces as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. It primarily draws on my researching and organising Human Libraries across Australia.Protest can employ both instrumental and expressive forms of activism. Instrumental activism aims to change law or policy, gain improvements in living conditions, and win important human services. Expressive activism is often understood as a continuum of political acts extending from lawful demonstrations through to violent activities. Recent studies demonstrate that protest has developed beyond such conventional forms (Dalton, Van Sickle, and Weldon). Contemporary protest includes such things as: acts of spontaneity (Snow and Moss); advocating rights via cultural rather than political protest (Bruce); and activating spatial politics by engaging in urban public spaces to highlight long-standing socio-spatial inequalities (Marom).These examples demonstrate the tension that exists within contemporary protest. While some people accuse expressive activism of being “a thing-for-itself that is not aimed at producing results”, others recognise that “both expressive and instrumental activism are necessary and important” (Maddison and Scalmer 69-71). Far from being self-interested, protest that adopts expressive activism offers its practitioners an important tool:Expressive activism is oriented towards the construction, reconstruction and/or transformation of norms, values, identities and ways of living and being. It is not just about ‘who we are’ […] but also about ‘how we are’ in the world, consequently requiring evaluation of ‘what we do’ and ‘how we do it’. (Stammers 164-165)This understanding of expressive activism provides a useful lens for reading the Human Library as a means of rethinking everyday spaces as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. This is particularly so because the Human Library, as an activist organisation dedicated to increasing respect for difference, is situated within the contemporary anti-prejudice movement (Stammers; Chesters and Welsh; Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'").Introducing the Human LibraryHuman Libraries transform the spaces provided by traditional libraries into spaces that challenge contemporary socio-spatial dynamics. Human Libraries provide people (Readers) with a safe space in which they can choose another person (a volunteer known as a Human Book) and engage in a conversation or ‘reading’ about the way that people perceive and experience difference. Readers choose their Human Books from a catalogue of titles and descriptions which are developed by each Human Book.and express something about how they identify. For example, titles include such things as belonging to sexual minority groups, living with physical or mental impairment, or belonging to different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. Each ‘reading’ is defined by three rules: 1) you may raise any topic or ask any question; 2) a ‘reading’ is a dialogue so Human Books ask their Readers questions too; and 3) each person may decline to answer any question and to end the reading at any time. Using this method, Human Libraries protest the way in which socio-spatial norms marginalise people who are different. They enact a form of expressive activism that reconstructs the way that norms are used in local sites to marginalise different ways of living and being. This reconstruction of the relationship between norms and sites enables people to be “who we are” and “how we are” without having to be inauthentic about “what we do” and “how we do it” (Stammers 164-165).The first Human Library took place at the Roskilde Festival (Denmark) in the summer of 2000 and as an international activist organisation within the anti-prejudice movement, has since become active in over 80 countries and used in a variety of local community sites thus demonstrating its ability to “transcend borders and be adapted to different situations” (Abergel et al. 13). It now operates in such diverse settings as local libraries, universities, schools, music and cultural festivals and workplaces. Participants’ (Organisers, Readers and Human Books) reflections on their experiences of engaging in Human Libraries helps to illustrate how they perceive Human Libraries as sites that challenge socio-spatial norms.Human Libraries enable people to create sites that reverse our usual social interactions. The following phrases, used by participants to describe their contact with the Human Library, illustrate this. An Organiser, whose local government job requires her to develop projects that encourage interactions between in-groups and out-groups, explains that Human Libraries bring people who usually live “on the margins […] into the centre of the page” and that “the powerful people […] who are usually in the centre” are required to listen to different experiences. Likewise, Human Books describe themselves as being “totally open” in order to encourage their Readers to ask about topics that society labels as “taboo”. Readers illustrate how they encounter Human Libraries in ways that the other spaces in their day-to-day lives function. One Reader talks about “stumbling upon” a Human Library within a community event and describes this as “a kind of a stroke of brilliance to catch people at a place like that rather than in a more conventional library setting”. Other Readers emphasise the significance of this type of encounter when they explain that they “probably wouldn’t just go and bother someone in the street” and that participating in a Human Library has provided a type of conversation “that doesn’t happen in any other way”. The outcome of this is highlighted by a Reader who explains that she pushed herself “to go beyond […] just a polite social conversation” because the Human Library “lays it all out there and says, we’re here to talk” (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'" 124-132). These descriptions of people’s experiences of Human Libraries demonstrate how they perceive Human Libraries as spaces that enable them to have conversations with people they would not normally speak to about topics they would usually feel unable to speak about. Their examples are better appreciated when considered along with the scholarship on the interconnectedness of space and intergroup relations.The Interconnectedness of Space and Intergroup RelationsA multiplicity of spaces shape people’s everyday lives. The everyday refers to the “flow of routine” often defined by such mundane habitual practices as going to work, crossing streets and shopping (Dirksmeier and Helbrecht 495). Who a person is, where a person lives, the spaces a person can enter and move about, and how a person is treated in those spaces are intertwined. Belonging is not an abstract concept; as people move in and out of different spaces they demonstrate how belonging is “experienced differentially, and the pleasures and powers it confers are not distributed evenly but [are] linked to relations of inequality and practices of social exclusion” (Noble and Poynting 490). This warns us against romanticizing the urban space of the city and regarding it over-simplistically as neutral and accessible to all, as a space of open flow and untroubled human interaction and as a natural catalyst for proximate reflexivity (Noble and Poynting; Amin and Thrift; Amin Land; Priest et al.).Acknowledging the negative impacts inherent in the interconnectedness of the city and intergroup relations, some scholars have moved their attention from examining integration at the macrospatial level of society to studying the microecology of segregation (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon, Tredoux and Clack; Alexander and Tredoux; Priest et al.; Thomas; Dandy and Pe-Pua; Dixon and Durrheim; Durrheim et al.). This shifts the focus from a primary interest in the city and the neighbourhood to a closer examination of people’s everyday life spaces. This focus examines how members of different groups “share proximity and co-presence” (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux 2) and engage in informal practices that uphold barriers (Alexander and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim). For example, people were observed as they shared spaces such as beaches, school cafeterias and university class rooms and were found to use these spaces in ways that enacted segregation along lines of race, ethnicity, age, and gender. In examples such as these, everyday life spaces are seen to function in ways that (re)instate borders around difference through everyday spatial practices and they act as sites in which “informal segregation practices can be enacted and reproduced” (Priest et al. 32). The shift in scholarly interest to the microecology of segregation serves my interest in how we might use everyday spaces as sites to contest segregation. The following discusses three everyday spaces that serve this interest.The Space of the Everyday UrbanThe macrospatial terrain of the world’s cities and towns is increasingly defined by difference and their public spaces are often spaces of “visibility and encounter between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967). Negotiating difference is a natural part of living in these large urban spaces and it is an increasingly more common experience in, what was previously, the typically homogenous setting of rural communities. This process of negotiation occurs most noticeably within the microecology of the “everyday urban,” a context defined by the interconnection of everyday spaces and intergroup relations (Alexander and Tredoux; Durrheim et al.; Dixon and Durrheim). It is here that we find “the micropolitics of everyday social contact and encounter” (Amin "Ethnicity" 959). These everyday spaces include our streets, parks, malls, and cafes, and they are often described as shared spaces of freedom, mingling, and serendipitous encounters. However, while spaces such as these can place people from diverse backgrounds and groups in close proximity, it is important not to overstate their effectiveness in helping people negotiate difference (Wise; Noble "Cosmopolitan Habits"; Priest et al.; Valentine "Living"). This is the case because urban public spaces can carry a reverse side to the provision of proximity. They are often “spaces of transit with very little contact between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967). As such, urban public spaces do not naturally serve our need to negotiate our everyday encounters with others (Amin and Thrift; Amin, Massey, and Thrift; Rosaldo; Amin "Ethnicity").This illuminates the need to rethink our everyday public spaces and start to unsettle and shift how some spaces act to perpetuate negative and habitual socio-spatial norms which encourage avoidance rather than provide spaces to contest inequality and inequity (Alexander and Tredoux; Durrheim et al.; Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim; Wise). Participants at Human Libraries demonstrate that they recognise this when they explain that they do not feel able to approach and speak with people who are different in everyday spaces such as the street, public transport and shops. They point out that they feel that socio-spatial norms dictate that it is rude, impolite or intrusive to approach strangers and people who are different in public spaces and to begin a conversation, especially about difference (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"). Examples such as this signal how everyday urban spaces embody socio-spatial norms and practices that impede people’s capacity to engage in everyday acts that protest the marginalisation of difference. This clarifies why “even in the most carefully designed and inclusive spaces, the marginalised and the prejudiced stay away” (Amin "Ethnicity" 968). This alerts us to the need to better appreciate what occurs in other everyday spaces in which people associate even more closely.Spaces and the MicropublicOther everyday spaces in which people spend a significant amount of time are spaces of association, referred to as micropublics (Amin "Ethnicity"; Noble "Cosmopolitan Habits"). They include those places in which we work, study, play sports, and recreate. Micropublics function as spaces of habitual engagement, interdependence and “prosaic negotiations” (Amin "Ethnicity" 969). For example, we attend our place of work on a daily basis which requires us to communicate and interact with our colleagues as well as navigate other forms of elementary social etiquette. In this way, micropublics often bring people from diverse backgrounds and identity groups together in spaces that require them to interact with people who are different to themselves. In practice, however, the contact people undertake in their micropublics tends to be illusory and includes practices of informal segregation (Dixon and Durrheim; Alexander and Tredoux; Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux). This highlights that “co-presence and collaboration are two very different things” and that micropublics do not immediately serve as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference (Amin Land 59).Participants at Human Libraries share experiences taken from their own work places and schools and suggest that the codes of civility that are enforced within these micropublics make it difficult, if not impossible, to engage in certain conversations. For example, Readers at Human Libraries disclose that they do not feel comfortable discussing issues of physical impairment or mental illness with colleagues who live with disability and mental illness. Similarly, high school students explain that they feel unable to discuss what it means to be gay, lesbian or bisexual with their fellow-students who identity as LGBTQI (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"). Examples such as these demonstrate how micropublics embody “degrees and modalities of familiarity and strangeness” (Noble "Strange Familiarities" 33) and that even though they may embody degrees of collaboration and contribute to a shift in the way people develop various forms of familiarity, they do not naturally lend themselves to protesting the way in which codes of civility camouflage disrespect for difference. These experiences alert us to the way that our everyday spaces and the norms attached to them contribute to defining what it means to be and to belong.Spaces and BeingPeople’s experiences of marginalisation in public spaces illuminates how people’s freedom to be in particular spaces and their being – their humanity – are intimately connected. This happens as people who are made to feel that they should not be in a space are sent the message that they do not have the right to be at all (Noble and Poynting). Valentine ("Prejudice" 531) explains how this is demonstrated by the way some people speak about other people who are different in relation to public and private spaces:Individuals stated that they believed in individual freedom and were not prejudiced against minority groups and yet saw no contradiction in then expressing hostility towards seeing lesbians and gay men kissing on the street, or women wearing the hijab in their neighbourhood or feeling uncomfortable at the sight of a disabled person in public or being inconvenienced by disabled access provisions.This response reveals how some people frame acceptance of minority groups using the criteria of invisibility and how spatial norms define “appropriate embodied ways of being in public space” (Valentine "Prejudice" 532). This exemplifies how some people regard it as tolerable for minority groups to express their difference at home but not in public because this would be considered as imposing “their way of life” upon majority people, thus transgressing spatial norms about appropriate embodied ways of being in public spaces.People who participate at Human Libraries as Readers illustrate this dynamic when they share how, during the course of their everyday lives, they have come in contact with people with disabilities or met people who identify as gay, lesbian or transgender and have recognised negative feelings within themselves such as discomfort, embarrassment, or have refused to recognise a person’s authentic identity. They also admit to hiding these feelings in public but expressing them once they return home (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Kudo et al.). Similarly, people who volunteer as Human Books speak about their experiences of being in public spaces and feeling unsafe or the target of negative treatment. For example, Human Books who identify as gay comment that they need to do a “safety check” before showing signs of physical affection in public; Human Books whose physical appearance does not align with social constructs of gender relate that they have been banned from using public toilets; and Human Books with eating disorders speak about being labelled as “crazy” (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Watson "Being a Human Book"). Behaviours such as these demonstrate how people who are different are defined and treated as lesser beings in public spaces and are relegated to segregated micropublics such as their homes as well as groups and clubs dedicated to particular minorities.Conclusion: Rethinking Our SpacesThe above discussion includes a number of findings that are informative when thinking about how our everyday spaces might act as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. The following offers a concluding discussion about how we might approach such a project, paying particular attention to what we can learn from the Human Library.Firstly, Human Libraries exemplify the need to develop sites that protest the way in which our everyday public spaces do not naturally serve our need to negotiate our everyday encounter with difference (Noble and Poynting; Amin and Thrift; Amin Strangers; Priest et al.). Readers indicate that Human Libraries are spaces that make it possible for them to meet people they don’t feel able to approach in other everyday public spaces. As such, Human Libraries illuminate the importance of developing sites that protest social and spatial norms by enabling “encounter between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967).Secondly, Human Libraries protest the space of the micropublic as sites that are illusory, superficial, and bearers of informal segregation (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon, Tredoux and Clack; Alexander and Tredoux; Priest et al.; Thomas; Dandy and Pe-Pua; Dixon and Durrheim; Durrheim et al.). They achieve this by being sites in which no topic or question is taboo and that welcome and value respectful conversations about difference. Readers are able to speak to Human Books about differences such as what it is like to live with physical impairment, to be lesbian and/or to be an immigrant or a refugee. Their conversations are much deeper than the superficial conversations they feel restricted to within the confines of their everyday micropublics which enables them to protest codes of civility that render conversations about the marginalisation of difference as unacceptable (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Watson "Being a Human Book").Thirdly, Human Libraries provide sites that protest the way in which other spaces define people who are different as lesser beings because Human Libraries are spaces in which every person has the right to be their authentic self. They are spaces that make it possible for people to be 'who we are’ by authentically being ‘how we are’ (Stammers 164-165). They shed a light on the way that a person’s being is sometimes distorted by how they experience being in a particular space and in doing so protest spatial norms that divide, marginalise and diminish people by marginalising them via the criteria of invisibility (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim; Thomas). For this reason, Human Libraries can be regarded as safe spaces to meet people who are different and bring people from the margins of society to its centre as sites that protest the marginalisation of difference.ReferencesAbergel, Ronni, et al. Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover? The Living Library Organiser's Guide. Budapest: Council of Europe 2005.Alexander, Lameez, and Colin Tredoux. "The Spaces between Us: A Spatial Analysis of Informal Segregation at a South African University." Journal of Social Issues 66.2 (2010): 367-86.Amin, Ash. "Ethnicity and the Multicultural City: Living with Diversity." Environment and Planning A 34.6 (2002): 959-80.———. Land of Strangers. Cambridge: Polity, 2012.———, D. Massey, and Nigel Thrift. Cities for the Many Not the Few. Bristol: Policy P, 2000.———, and Nigel Thrift. Cities: Reimagining the Urban. Cambridge: Polity, 2002.Bruce, Katherine Mcfarland. "LGBT Pride as a Cultural Protest Tactic in a Southern City." Journal of Contemporary Ethnography 42.5 (2013): 608-35.Clack, Beverley, John Dixon, and Colin Tredoux. "Eating Together Apart: Patterns of Segregation in a Multi-Ethnic Cafeteria." Journal of Community & Applied Social Psychology 15.1 (2005): 1-16.Dalton, Russell, Alix Van Sickle, and Steven Weldon. "The Individual–Institutional Nexus of Protest Behaviour." Brit. J. Polit. Sci. 40.1 (2010): 51-73.Dandy, Justine, and Rogelia Pe-Pua. "Beyond Mutual Acculturation." Zeitschrift für Psychologie 221.4 (2013): 232-41.Dirksmeier, Peter, and Ilse Helbrecht. "Everyday Urban Encounters as Stratification Practices." City 19.4 (2015): 486-98.Dixon, John, and Kevin Durrheim. "Contact and the Ecology of Racial Division: Some Varieties of Informal Segregation." British Journal of Social Psychology 42.1 (2003): 1-23.———, Colin Tredoux, and Beverley Clack. "On the Micro-Ecology of Racial Division: A Neglected Dimension of Segregation." South African Journal of Psychology 35.3 (2005): 395-411.Durrheim, Kevin, et al. "From Exclusion to Informal Segregation: The Limits to Racial Transformation at the University of Natal." Social Dynamics 30.1 (2004): 141-69.Garbutt, Rob. "The Living Library: Some Theoretical Approaches to a Strategy for Activating Human Rights and Peace." Activating Human Rights and Peace: Universal Responsibility Conference 2008 Conference Proceedings. Ed. Rob Garbutt.Kudo, Kazuhiro, et al. "Bridging Difference through Dialogue: Preliminary Findings of the Outcomes of the Human Library in a University Setting." 2011 Shanghai International Conference on Social Science. Maddison, Sarah, and Sean Scalmer. Activist Wisdom: Practical Knowledge and Creative Tension in Social Movements. Sydney: UNSW P, 2006.Marom, Nathan. "Activising Space: The Spatial Politics of the 2011 Protest Movement in Israel." Urban Studies 50.13 (2013): 2826-41.Noble, Greg. "Cosmopolitan Habits: The Capacities and Habitats of Intercultural Conviviality." Body & Society 19.2-3 (2013): 162-85.———. "Strange Familiarities: A Response to Ash Amin's Land of Strangers." Identities 20.1 (2013): 31-36.———, and Scott Poynting. "White Lines: The Intercultural Politics of Everyday Movement in Social Spaces." Journal of Intercultural Studies 31.5 (2010): 489-505.Priest, Naomi, et al. "Patterns of Intergroup Contact in Public Spaces: Micro-Ecology of Segregation in Australian Communities." Societies 4.1 (2014): 30-44.Rosaldo, R. "Cultural Citizenship, Inequality and Multiculturalism." Race, Identity, and Citizenship. Eds. R. Torres, L. Miron, and J. Inda. Oxford: Blackwell, 1999.Snow, David A., and Dana M. Moss. "Protest on the Fly: Toward a Theory of Spontaneity in the Dynamics of Protest and Social Movements." American Sociological Review 79.6 (2014): 1122-43.Stammers, Neil. Human Rights and Social Movements. London: Pluto P, 2009.Thomas, Mary E. "‘I Think It's Just Natural’: The Spatiality of Racial Segregation at a US High School." Environment and Planning A 37.7 (2005): 1233-48.Valentine, Gill. "Living with Difference: Reflections on Geographies of Encounter." Progress in Human Geography 32.3 (2008): 323-37.———. "Prejudice: Rethinking Geographies of Oppression." Social & Cultural Geography 11.6 (2010): 519-37.Watson, Greg. "Being a Human Book: Conversations for Rupturing Prejudice." Rites of Spring. Ed. Julie Lunn. Perth: Black Swan P, 2017.———. "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer for Being Who You Are': An Examination of the Human Library Strategy for Challenging Prejudice and Increasing Respect for Difference." Curtin University, 2015.Wise, Amanda. "Hope in a Land of Strangers." Identities 20.1 (2013): 37-45.

This study aims to explain the gold mining in Gunong Ujeun, Aceh jaya by using the theories of Thomas Homer-Dixon of the environmental scarcity, whether in Gunong Ujeun mining can be categorized as a blessing or a disaster with a view of reality and phenomena that exist in the field. The data in this research was obtained through literature (library research) and field research. The results showed that small-scale gold mining in the region Gunong Ujeun has many benefits, it is a blessing bestowed by the Almighty to the people, especially for people who do the mining. Since 2008 has been a lot of things are changing in the region District of Krueng Sabee, ranging from forests to watersheds in the river. The destruction of the forest will be an impact on other natural resources such as soil cycles are no longer fertile, discoloration and quality of water, as well as damage to the fish that were in the river will die, and as a result of toxic mercury wastes are poured into the river. This caused conflict among the community. It is is a horizontal conflict between migrant and local communities. The cause of it, namely (1) frequent flooding aftermath of the mining (2) more difficult to get fresh fish and the water has been contaminated with mercury and cyanide. (3) government agency that is less concerned with the environment (4) Control of natural resources by immigrant communities. Keywords: Peoples Mining, conflict, environmental degradation.

Abstract Background Diagnostic and treatment response criteria for the JAK2/CALR/MPL mutation-related myeloproliferative neoplasms (MPNs) are largely based on bone marrow (BM) biopsy results. However, these biopsies have several limitations, such as the risk of sampling error. Also, the prognostic impact of BM abnormalities is largely unclear. Although not currently used in clinical practice, imaging techniques might offer additional information. In this review, we investigated the value of BM, liver, and spleen imaging for diagnosis, prognostication, and response monitoring of the JAK2/CALR/MPL mutation-related MPNs (i.e. essential thrombocythemia (ET), polycythemia vera (PV), and myelofibrosis (MF)). Methods A systematic literature search was performed via PubMed, Embase and the Cochrane Library up to 2020 March 26th. Of 5505 identified records, 55 publications met the eligibility criteria (i.e. containing original data on the imaging appearance of BM, spleen, or liver in adult ET, PV, or MF patients, published in a peer-reviewed journal, written in English). Results Many explorative studies described imaging features, sometimes with comparisons to clinical characteristics. Studies reporting measures of diagnostic accuracy included 1) splenic transient elastography to predict BM fibrosis grade in MF, 2) dynamic contrast-enhanced MRI to discern MF patients from ET patients and healthy controls, and 3) 18-fluorodeoxyglucose PET to detect residual disease after stem cell transplantation in MF. The diagnostic accuracies of radiography and 99mTc-colloid scintigraphy were derived from several other articles. Except for the study on 18-fluorodeoxyglucose PET, we established substantial concerns regarding risk of bias and applicability across these studies, using the QUADAS-2 tool. Three publications described a correlation between imaging results and prognosis, of which one quantified the effect. Conclusions Based on current data, MRI (T1-weighted/STIR, Dixon) seems especially promising for the evaluation of BM fat content - and indirectly cellularity/fibrosis - in MF, and possibly for estimating BM cellularity in ET/PV. 18-fluorodeoxyglucose and 18-fluorothymidine PET/CT might be useful for evaluating BM fibrosis, with good reported accuracy of the former for the diagnosis of residual disease. Further research on these and other techniques is warranted to determine their exact value. Future researchers should improve methodology and focus on evaluation of diagnostic accuracy and prognostic implications of results.

Introdução: O termo ageismo é definido como uma forma de intolerância relacionada com a idade por meio de estereótipos, ou seja, qualquer pessoa poderia ser alvo de discriminação pela idade que tem, sendo os idosos um dos grupos mais vulneráveis. Teoricamente qualquer pessoa pode ser atingida pelo ageísmo ao longo de sua vida, desde que viva o suficiente para envelhecer. Objetivos: O propósito desse trabalho foi apresentar o papel das Universidades no combate ao ageísmo. Métodos: Para a elaboração do presente trabalho as seguintes etapas foram percorridas: estabelecimento da hipótese e objetivos do estudo; estabelecimento de critérios de inclusão e exclusão de artigos (seleção da amostra). Formulou-se a seguinte questão: as Universidades contribuem para a redução do ageísmo? Os artigos foram selecionados utilizando a base de dados The National Library of Medicine, Washington DC (MEDLINE – PubMed) e Google Scholar. As estratégias utilizadas para localizar os artigos tiveram como eixo norteador a pergunta e os critérios de inclusão da revisão, previamente estabelecidos para manter a coerência na busca dos artigos e evitar possíveis vieses. Como descritores foram utilizados os termos “Ageísmo”, “Universidades”; Expectativa de Vida” e “Relação entre Gerações”, acordando com o Decs. Os critérios de inclusão foram artigos publicados em inglês, espanhol e português com os resumos disponíveis, no período compreendido entre 1990-2020. A partir da pesquisa preliminar nas bases de dados, leitura do título e resumo, 20 artigos foram selecionados para leitura na íntegra. Resultados: A Universidade, por meio de seus projetos de extensão universitária voltados aos idosos tem contribuído para redução das atitudes que nutrem papéis sociais estereotipados com base na idade das pessoas. Conclusões: As atividades universitárias voltados ao idoso têm contribuído para redução dos estereótipos mantidos pela sociedade e pelos próprios indivíduos com 60 anos ou mais, contribuindo não só para o bem estar e qualidade de vida desse segmento, como também para que a sociedade se beneficie do contato positivo intergeracional.Descritores: Ageísmo; Resiliência Psicológica; Universidades; Expectativa de Vida; Relação entre Gerações; Qualidade de Vida.ReferênciasOeppen J, Vaupel JW. Limites quebrados à expectativa de vida. Science. 2002; 296:1029-31.IBGE (Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatística). Tábuas Completas de Mortalidade. Disponivel em: https://www.ibge.gov.br /estatisticas/sociais/populacao/9126-tabuas-completas-de-mortalidade.html?=t=resultados.Aboim S. Narrativas do envelhecimento. Ser velho na sociedade contemporânea. Tempo Social. 2014;26(1):207-32.Vaupel JW, Carey JR, Christensen K, Johnson TE, Yashin AI, Holm NV et al. Biodemographic trajectories of longevity. Science. 1998; 280(5365):855-60.Donizzetti AR. Ageism in an Aging Society: The Role of Knowledge, Anxiety about Aging, and Stereotypes in Young People and Adults. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2019;16(8):1329.Butler RN. Why Survive? Being Old in America. New York: Harper Rowe; 1975.Iversen TN, Larsen L, Solem PE. A conceptual analysis of ageism. Nord Psychol. 2009;61(3):4-22.Levy BR, Kasl SV, Gill TM. Image of aging scale. Percept Mot Skills. 2004;99(1):208-10.Nelson T. Ageism. In: Nelson T (Ed.), Handbook of prejudice, stereotyping, and discrimination. New York, NY: Psychology Press; 2009. pp-431-40Abrams D, Eller A, Bryant J. An age apart: The effects of intergenerational contact and stereotype threat on performance and intergroup bias. Psychol Aging. 2006;21(4):691-702.Levy BR, Slade MD, Kunkel SR, Kasl SV. Longevity increased by positive self-perceptions of aging. J Pers Soc Psychol. 2002;83(2):261-70.Swift HJ, Abrams D, Lamont RA, Drury L. The risks of ageism model: how ageism and negative attitudes toward age can be a barrier to active aging. Soc Issues Policy Rev. 2017;11(1):195-231.Wurm S, Diehl M, Kornadt AE, Westerhof GJ, Wahl HW. How do views on aging affect health outcomes in adulthood and late life? Explanations for an established connection. Dev Rev. 2017;46:27-43.Meisner BA. A meta-analysis of positive and negative age stereotype priming effects on behavior among older adults. J Gerontol B Psychol Sci Soc Sci. 2012;67(1):13-7.Gil Barreiro M, Trujillo Grás O. Estereotipos hacia los ancianos. Rev Cubana Med Gen Integr. 1997;13(1): 34-8. Piato RS, Capalbo LC, Alves Rezende MIR, Lehfeld LS, Alves Rezende MCR. O papel da Universidade Aberta à Terceira Idade na educação ambiental. Arch Health Invest.2014;3(5):66-71.Schroyen S, Adam S, Marquet M, et al. Communication of healthcare professionals: Is there ageism? Eur J Cancer Care (Engl). 2018;27(1):10.1111.Chrisler JC, Barney A, Palatino B. Ageism can be hazardous to women’s health: ageism, sexism, and stereotypes of older women in the healthcare system. J Soc Issues. 2016;72(1):86-104.Arnold L, Shue CK, Jones D. Implementation of geriatric education into the first and second years of a baccalaureate-MD degree program. Acad Med. 2002;77(9):933-34.Thornhill J 4th, Richeson N, Roberts E. Senior mentor program: a geriatrics focused curriculum. Acad Med. 2002;77(9):934-35.Bates T, Cohan M, Bragg DS, Bedinghaus J. The Medical College of Wisconsin Senior Mentor Program: experience of a lifetime. Gerontol Geriatr Educ. 2006;27(2):93-103.Levy SR. Toward Reducing Ageism: PEACE (Positive Education about Aging and Contact Experiences) Model. Gerontologist. 2018;58(2): 226-32.Abrams D, Eller A, Bryant J. An age apart: the effects of intergenerational contact and stereotype threat on performance and intergroup bias. Psychol Aging. 2006;21(4):691-702.Swift HJ, Abrams D, Marques S. Threat or boost? Social comparison affects older people's performance differently depending on task domain. J Gerontol B Psychol Sci Soc Sci. 2013;68(1):23-30.Pruchno R, Heid AR, Genderson MW. Resilience and successful aging: aligning complementary constructs using a life course approach. Psychol Inquiry. 2015;26(2):200–7.Windle G. The contribution of resilience to healthy ageing. Perspect Public Health. 2012;132(4):159-60.Liébana-Presa C, Andina-Díaz E, Reguera-García MM, Fulgueiras-Carril I, Bermejo-Martínez D, Fernández-Martínez E. Social Network Analysis and Resilience in University Students: An Approach from Cohesiveness. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2018;15(10):2119.Fernández-Martínez E, Andina-Díaz E, Fernández-Peña R, García-López R, Fulgueiras-Carril I, Liébana-Presa C. Social Networks, Engagement and Resilience in University Students. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2017;14(12):1488.Montepare JM, Farah KS. 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Special Care Notice This article contains images of deceased people that might cause sadness or distress to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers. Introduction Like many cities, Perth was founded on wetlands that have been integral to its history and culture (Seddon 226–32). However, in order to promote a settlement agenda, early mapmakers sought to erase the city’s wetlands from cartographic depictions (Giblett, Cities). Since the colonial era, inner-Perth’s swamps and lakes have been drained, filled, significantly reduced in size, or otherwise reclaimed for urban expansion (Bekle). Not only have the swamps and lakes physically disappeared, the memories of their presence and influence on the city’s development over time are also largely forgotten. What was the site of Perth, specifically its wetlands, like before British settlement? In 2014, an interdisciplinary team at Edith Cowan University developed a digital visualisation process to re-imagine Perth prior to colonisation. This was based on early maps of the Swan River Colony and a range of archival information. The images depicted the city’s topography, hydrology, and vegetation and became the centerpiece of a physical exhibition entitled Re-imagining Perth’s Lost Wetlands and a virtual exhibition hosted by the Western Australian Museum. Alongside historic maps, paintings, photographs, and writings, the visual reconstruction of Perth aimed to foster appreciation of the pre-settlement environment—the homeland of the Whadjuck Nyoongar, or Bibbulmun, people (Carter and Nutter). The exhibition included the narrative of Fanny Balbuk, a Nyoongar woman who voiced her indignation over the “usurping of her beloved home ground” (Bates, The Passing 69) by flouting property lines and walking through private residences to reach places of cultural significance. Beginning with Balbuk’s story and the digital tracing of her walking route through colonial Perth, this article discusses the project in the context of contemporary pressures on the city’s extant wetlands. The re-imagining of Perth through historically, culturally, and geographically-grounded digital visualisation approaches can inspire the conservation of its wetlands heritage. Balbuk’s Walk through the City For many who grew up in Perth, Fanny Balbuk’s perambulations have achieved legendary status in the collective cultural imagination. In his memoir, David Whish-Wilson mentions Balbuk’s defiant walks and the lighting up of the city for astronaut John Glenn in 1962 as the two stories that had the most impact on his Perth childhood. From Gordon Stephenson House, Whish-Wilson visualises her journey in his mind’s eye, past Government House on St Georges Terrace (the main thoroughfare through the city centre), then north on Barrack Street towards the railway station, the site of Lake Kingsford where Balbuk once gathered bush tucker (4). He considers the footpaths “beneath the geometric frame of the modern city […] worn smooth over millennia that snake up through the sheoak and marri woodland and into the city’s heart” (Whish-Wilson 4). Balbuk’s story embodies the intertwined culture and nature of Perth—a city of wetlands. Born in 1840 on Heirisson Island, Balbuk (also known as Yooreel) (Figure 1) had ancestral bonds to the urban landscape. According to Daisy Bates, writing in the early 1900s, the Nyoongar term Matagarup, or “leg deep,” denotes the passage of shallow water near Heirisson Island where Balbuk would have forded the Swan River (“Oldest” 16). Yoonderup was recorded as the Nyoongar name for Heirisson Island (Bates, “Oldest” 16) and the birthplace of Balbuk’s mother (Bates, “Aboriginal”). In the suburb of Shenton Park near present-day Lake Jualbup, her father bequeathed to her a red ochre (or wilgi) pit that she guarded fervently throughout her life (Bates, “Aboriginal”).Figure 1. Group of Aboriginal Women at Perth, including Fanny Balbuk (far right) (c. 1900). Image Credit: State Library of Western Australia (Image Number: 44c). Balbuk’s grandparents were culturally linked to the site. At his favourite camp beside the freshwater spring near Kings Park on Mounts Bay Road, her grandfather witnessed the arrival of Lieutenant-Colonel Frederick Irwin, cousin of James Stirling (Bates, “Fanny”). In 1879, colonial entrepreneurs established the Swan Brewery at this significant locale (Welborn). Her grandmother’s gravesite later became Government House (Bates, “Fanny”) and she protested vociferously outside “the stone gates guarded by a sentry [that] enclosed her grandmother’s burial ground” (Bates, The Passing 70). Balbuk’s other grandmother was buried beneath Bishop’s Grove, the residence of the city’s first archibishop, now Terrace Hotel (Bates, “Aboriginal”). Historian Bob Reece observes that Balbuk was “the last full-descent woman of Kar’gatta (Karrakatta), the Bibbulmun name for the Mount Eliza [Kings Park] area of Perth” (134). According to accounts drawn from Bates, her home ground traversed the area between Heirisson Island and Perth’s north-western limits. In Kings Park, one of her relatives was buried near a large, hollow tree used by Nyoongar people like a cistern to capture water and which later became the site of the Queen Victoria Statue (Bates, “Aboriginal”). On the slopes of Mount Eliza, the highest point of Kings Park, at the western end of St Georges Terrace, she harvested plant foods, including zamia fruits (Macrozamia riedlei) (Bates, “Fanny”). Fanny Balbuk’s knowledge contributed to the native title claim lodged by Nyoongar people in 2006 as Bennell v. State of Western Australia—the first of its kind to acknowledge Aboriginal land rights in a capital city and part of the larger Single Nyoongar Claim (South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council et al.). Perth’s colonial administration perceived the city’s wetlands as impediments to progress and as insalubrious environments to be eradicated through reclamation practices. For Balbuk and other Nyoongar people, however, wetlands were “nourishing terrains” (Rose) that afforded sustenance seasonally and meaning perpetually (O’Connor, Quartermaine, and Bodney). Mary Graham, a Kombu-merri elder from Queensland, articulates the connection between land and culture, “because land is sacred and must be looked after, the relation between people and land becomes the template for society and social relations. Therefore all meaning comes from land.” Traditional, embodied reliance on Perth’s wetlands is evident in Bates’ documentation. For instance, Boojoormeup was a “big swamp full of all kinds of food, now turned into Palmerston and Lake streets” (Bates, “Aboriginal”). Considering her cultural values, Balbuk’s determination to maintain pathways through the increasingly colonial Perth environment is unsurprising (Figure 2). From Heirisson Island: a straight track had led to the place where once she had gathered jilgies [crayfish] and vegetable food with the women, in the swamp where Perth railway station now stands. Through fences and over them, Balbuk took the straight track to the end. When a house was built in the way, she broke its fence-palings with her digging stick and charged up the steps and through the rooms. (Bates, The Passing 70) One obstacle was Hooper’s Fence, which Balbuk broke repeatedly on her trips to areas between Kings Park and the railway station (Bates, “Hooper’s”). Her tenacious commitment to walking ancestral routes signifies the friction between settlement infrastructure and traditional Nyoongar livelihood during an era of rapid change. Figure 2. Determination of Fanny Balbuk’s Journey between Yoonderup (Heirisson Island) and Lake Kingsford, traversing what is now the central business district of Perth on the Swan River (2014). Image background prepared by Dimitri Fotev. Track interpolation by Jeff Murray. Project Background and Approach Inspired by Fanny Balbuk’s story, Re-imagining Perth’s Lost Wetlands began as an Australian response to the Mannahatta Project. Founded in 1999, that project used spatial analysis techniques and mapping software to visualise New York’s urbanised Manhattan Island—or Mannahatta as it was called by indigenous people—in the early 1600s (Sanderson). Based on research into the island’s original biogeography and the ecological practices of Native Americans, Mannahatta enabled the public to “peel back” the city’s strata, revealing the original composition of the New York site. The layers of visuals included rich details about the island’s landforms, water systems, and vegetation. Mannahatta compelled Rod Giblett, a cultural researcher at Edith Cowan University, to develop an analogous model for visualising Perth circa 1829. The idea attracted support from the City of Perth, Landgate, and the University. Using stories, artefacts, and maps, the team—comprising a cartographer, designer, three-dimensional modelling expert, and historical researchers—set out to generate visualisations of the landscape at the time of British colonisation. Nyoongar elder Noel Nannup approved culturally sensitive material and contributed his perspective on Aboriginal content to include in the exhibition. The initiative’s context remains pressing. In many ways, Perth has become a template for development in the metropolitan area (Weller). While not unusual for a capital, the rate of transformation is perhaps unexpected in a city less than 200 years old (Forster). There also remains a persistent view of existing wetlands as obstructions to progress that, once removed, are soon forgotten (Urban Bushland Council). Digital visualisation can contribute to appreciating environments prior to colonisation but also to re-imagining possibilities for future human interactions with land, water, and space. Despite the rapid pace of change, many Perth area residents have memories of wetlands lost during their lifetimes (for example, Giblett, Forrestdale). However, as the clearing and drainage of the inner city occurred early in settlement, recollections of urban wetlands exist exclusively in historical records. In 1935, a local correspondent using the name “Sandgroper” reminisced about swamps, connecting them to Perth’s colonial heritage: But the Swamps were very real in fact, and in name in the [eighteen-] Nineties, and the Perth of my youth cannot be visualised without them. They were, of course, drying up apace, but they were swamps for all that, and they linked us directly with the earliest days of the Colony when our great-grandparents had founded this City of Perth on a sort of hog's-back, of which Hay-street was the ridge, and from which a succession of streamlets ran down its southern slope to the river, while land locked to the north of it lay a series of lakes which have long since been filled to and built over so that the only evidence that they have ever existed lies in the original street plans of Perth prepared by Roe and Hillman in the early eighteen-thirties. A salient consequence of the loss of ecological memory is the tendency to repeat the miscues of the past, especially the blatant disregard for natural and cultural heritage, as suburbanisation engulfs the area. While the swamps of inner Perth remain only in the names of streets, existing wetlands in the metropolitan area are still being threatened, as the Roe Highway (Roe 8) Campaign demonstrates. To re-imagine Perth’s lost landscape, we used several colonial survey maps to plot the location of the original lakes and swamps. At this time, a series of interconnecting waterbodies, known as the Perth Great Lakes, spread across the north of the city (Bekle and Gentilli). This phase required the earliest cartographic sources (Figure 3) because, by 1855, city maps no longer depicted wetlands. We synthesised contextual information, such as well depths, geological and botanical maps, settlers’ accounts, Nyoongar oral histories, and colonial-era artists’ impressions, to produce renderings of Perth. This diverse collection of primary and secondary materials served as the basis for creating new images of the city. Team member Jeff Murray interpolated Balbuk’s route using historical mappings and accounts, topographical data, court records, and cartographic common sense. He determined that Balbuk would have camped on the high ground of the southern part of Lake Kingsford rather than the more inundated northern part (Figure 2). Furthermore, she would have followed a reasonably direct course north of St Georges Terrace (contrary to David Whish-Wilson’s imaginings) because she was barred from Government House for protesting. This easier route would have also avoided the springs and gullies that appear on early maps of Perth. Figure 3. Townsite of Perth in Western Australia by Colonial Draftsman A. Hillman and John Septimus Roe (1838). This map of Perth depicts the wetlands that existed overlaid by the geomentric grid of the new city. Image Credit: State Library of Western Australia (Image Number: BA1961/14). Additionally, we produced an animated display based on aerial photographs to show the historical extent of change. Prompted by the build up to World War II, the earliest aerial photography of Perth dates from the late 1930s (Dixon 148–54). As “Sandgroper” noted, by this time, most of the urban wetlands had been drained or substantially modified. The animation revealed considerable alterations to the formerly swampy Swan River shoreline. Most prominent was the transformation of the Matagarup shallows across the Swan River, originally consisting of small islands. Now traversed by a causeway, this area was transformed into a single island, Heirisson—the general site of Balbuk’s birth. The animation and accompanying materials (maps, images, and writings) enabled viewers to apprehend the changes in real time and to imagine what the city was once like. Re-imagining Perth’s Urban Heart The physical environment of inner Perth includes virtually no trace of its wetland origins. Consequently, we considered whether a representation of Perth, as it existed previously, could enhance public understanding of natural heritage and thereby increase its value. For this reason, interpretive materials were exhibited centrally at Perth Town Hall. Built partly by convicts between 1867 and 1870, the venue is close to the site of the 1829 Foundation of Perth, depicted in George Pitt Morrison’s painting. Balbuk’s grandfather “camped somewhere in the city of Perth, not far from the Town Hall” (Bates, “Fanny”). The building lies one block from the site of the railway station on the site of Lake Kingsford, the subsistence grounds of Balbuk and her forebears: The old swamp which is now the Perth railway yards had been a favourite jilgi ground; a spring near the Town Hall had been a camping place of Maiago […] and others of her fathers' folk; and all around and about city and suburbs she had gathered roots and fished for crayfish in the days gone by. (Bates, “Derelicts” 55) Beginning in 1848, the draining of Lake Kingsford reached completion during the construction of the Town Hall. While the swamps of the city were not appreciated by many residents, some organisations, such as the Perth Town Trust, vigorously opposed the reclamation of the lake, alluding to its hydrological role: That, the soil being sand, it is not to be supposed that Lake Kingsford has in itself any material effect on the wells of Perth; but that, from this same reason of the sandy soil, it would be impossible to keep the lake dry without, by so doing, withdrawing the water from at least the adjacent parts of the townsite to the same depth. (Independent Journal of Politics and News 3) At the time of our exhibition, the Lake Kingsford site was again being reworked to sink the railway line and build Yagan Square, a public space named after a colonial-era Nyoongar leader. The project required specialised construction techniques due to the high water table—the remnants of the lake. People travelling to the exhibition by train in October 2014 could have seen the lake reasserting itself in partly-filled depressions, flush with winter rain (Figure 4).Figure 4. Rise of the Repressed (2014). Water Rising in the former site of Lake Kingsford/Irwin during construction, corner of Roe and Fitzgerald Streets, Northbridge, WA. Image Credit: Nandi Chinna (2014). The exhibition was situated in the Town Hall’s enclosed undercroft designed for markets and more recently for shops. While some visited after peering curiously through the glass walls of the undercroft, others hailed from local and state government organisations. Guest comments applauded the alternative view of Perth we presented. The content invited the public to re-imagine Perth as a city of wetlands that were both environmentally and culturally important. A display panel described how the city’s infrastructure presented a hindrance for Balbuk as she attempted to negotiate the once-familiar route between Yoonderup and Lake Kingsford (Figure 2). Perth’s growth “restricted Balbuk’s wanderings; towns, trains, and farms came through her ‘line of march’; old landmarks were thus swept away, and year after year saw her less confident of the locality of one-time familiar spots” (Bates, “Fanny”). Conserving Wetlands: From Re-Claiming to Re-Valuing? Imagination, for philosopher Roger Scruton, involves “thinking of, and attending to, a present object (by thinking of it, or perceiving it, in terms of something absent)” (155). According to Scruton, the feelings aroused through imagination can prompt creative, transformative experiences. While environmental conservation tends to rely on data-driven empirical approaches, it appeals to imagination less commonly. We have found, however, that attending to the present object (the city) in terms of something absent (its wetlands) through evocative visual material can complement traditional conservation agendas focused on habitats and species. The actual extent of wetlands loss in the Swan Coastal Plain—the flat and sandy region extending from Jurien Bay south to Cape Naturaliste, including Perth—is contested. However, estimates suggest that 80 per cent of wetlands have been lost, with remaining habitats threatened by climate change, suburban development, agriculture, and industry (Department of Environment and Conservation). As with the swamps and lakes of the inner city, many regional wetlands were cleared, drained, or filled before they could be properly documented. Additionally, the seasonal fluctuations of swampy places have never been easily translatable to two-dimensional records. As Giblett notes, the creation of cartographic representations and the assignment of English names were attempts to fix the dynamic boundaries of wetlands, at least in the minds of settlers and administrators (Postmodern 72–73). Moreover, European colonists found the Western Australian landscape, including its wetlands, generally discomfiting. In a letter from 1833, metaphors failed George Fletcher Moore, the effusive colonial commentator, “I cannot compare these swamps to any marshes with which you are familiar” (220). The intermediate nature of wetlands—as neither land nor lake—is perhaps one reason for their cultural marginalisation (Giblett, Postmodern 39). The conviction that unsanitary, miasmic wetlands should be converted to more useful purposes largely prevailed (Giblett, Black 105–22). Felicity Morel-EdnieBrown’s research into land ownership records in colonial Perth demonstrated that town lots on swampland were often preferred. By layering records using geographic information systems (GIS), she revealed modifications to town plans to accommodate swampland frontages. The decline of wetlands in the region appears to have been driven initially by their exploitation for water and later for fertile soil. Northern market gardens supplied the needs of the early city. It is likely that the depletion of Nyoongar bush foods predated the flourishing of these gardens (Carter and Nutter). Engaging with the history of Perth’s swamps raises questions about the appreciation of wetlands today. In an era where numerous conservation strategies and alternatives have been developed (for example, Bobbink et al. 93–220), the exploitation of wetlands in service to population growth persists. On Perth’s north side, wetlands have long been subdued by controlling their water levels and landscaping their boundaries, as the suburban examples of Lake Monger and Hyde Park (formerly Third Swamp Reserve) reveal. Largely unmodified wetlands, such as Forrestdale Lake, exist south of Perth, but they too are in danger (Giblett, Black Swan). The Beeliar Wetlands near the suburb of Bibra Lake comprise an interconnected series of lakes and swamps that are vulnerable to a highway extension project first proposed in the 1950s. Just as the Perth Town Trust debated Lake Kingsford’s draining, local councils and the public are fiercely contesting the construction of the Roe Highway, which will bisect Beeliar Wetlands, destroying Roe Swamp (Chinna). The conservation value of wetlands still struggles to compete with traffic planning underpinned by a modernist ideology that associates cars and freeways with progress (Gregory). Outside of archives, the debate about Lake Kingsford is almost entirely forgotten and its physical presence has been erased. Despite the magnitude of loss, re-imagining the city’s swamplands, in the way that we have, calls attention to past indiscretions while invigorating future possibilities. We hope that the re-imagining of Perth’s wetlands stimulates public respect for ancestral tracks and songlines like Balbuk’s. Despite the accretions of settler history and colonial discourse, songlines endure as a fundamental cultural heritage. Nyoongar elder Noel Nannup states, “as people, if we can get out there on our songlines, even though there may be farms or roads overlaying them, fences, whatever it is that might impede us from travelling directly upon them, if we can get close proximity, we can still keep our culture alive. That is why it is so important for us to have our songlines.” Just as Fanny Balbuk plied her songlines between Yoonderup and Lake Kingsford, the traditional custodians of Beeliar and other wetlands around Perth walk the landscape as an act of resistance and solidarity, keeping the stories of place alive. Acknowledgments The authors wish to acknowledge Rod Giblett (ECU), Nandi Chinna (ECU), Susanna Iuliano (ECU), Jeff Murray (Kareff Consulting), Dimitri Fotev (City of Perth), and Brendan McAtee (Landgate) for their contributions to this project. The authors also acknowledge the traditional custodians of the lands upon which this paper was researched and written. References Bates, Daisy. “Fanny Balbuk-Yooreel: The Last Swan River (Female) Native.” The Western Mail 1 Jun. 1907: 45.———. “Oldest Perth: The Days before the White Men Won.” The Western Mail 25 Dec. 1909: 16–17.———. “Derelicts: The Passing of the Bibbulmun.” The Western Mail 25 Dec. 1924: 55–56. ———. “Aboriginal Perth.” The Western Mail 4 Jul. 1929: 70.———. “Hooper’s Fence: A Query.” The Western Mail 18 Apr. 1935: 9.———. The Passing of the Aborigines: A Lifetime Spent among the Natives of Australia. London: John Murray, 1966.Bekle, Hugo. “The Wetlands Lost: Drainage of the Perth Lake Systems.” Western Geographer 5.1–2 (1981): 21–41.Bekle, Hugo, and Joseph Gentilli. “History of the Perth Lakes.” Early Days 10.5 (1993): 442–60.Bobbink, Roland, Boudewijn Beltman, Jos Verhoeven, and Dennis Whigham, eds. Wetlands: Functioning, Biodiversity Conservation, and Restoration. Berlin: Springer-Verlag, 2006. Carter, Bevan, and Lynda Nutter. Nyungah Land: Records of Invasion and Theft of Aboriginal Land on the Swan River 1829–1850. Guildford: Swan Valley Nyungah Community, 2005.Chinna, Nandi. “Swamp.” Griffith Review 47 (2015). 29 Sep. 2015 ‹https://griffithreview.com/articles/swamp›.Department of Environment and Conservation. Geomorphic Wetlands Swan Coastal Plain Dataset. Perth: Department of Environment and Conservation, 2008.Dixon, Robert. Photography, Early Cinema, and Colonial Modernity: Frank Hurley’s Synchronized Lecture Entertainments. London: Anthem Press, 2011. Forster, Clive. Australian Cities: Continuity and Change. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004.Giblett, Rod. Postmodern Wetlands: Culture, History, Ecology. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1996. ———. Forrestdale: People and Place. Bassendean: Access Press, 2006.———. Black Swan Lake: Life of a Wetland. Bristol: Intellect, 2013.———. Cities and Wetlands: The Return of the Repressed in Nature and Culture. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. 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(Quoted material transcribed from 3.08–3.39 of the video.) O’Connor, Rory, Gary Quartermaine, and Corrie Bodney. Report on an Investigation into Aboriginal Significance of Wetlands and Rivers in the Perth-Bunbury Region. Perth: Western Australian Water Resources Council, 1989.Reece, Bob. “‘Killing with Kindness’: Daisy Bates and New Norcia.” Aboriginal History 32 (2008): 128–45.Rose, Deborah Bird. Nourishing Terrains: Australian Aboriginal Views of Landscape and Wilderness. Canberra: Australian Heritage Commission, 1996.Sanderson, Eric. Mannahatta: A Natural History of New York City. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.Sandgroper. “Gilgies: The Swamps of Perth.” The West Australian 4 May 1935: 7.Scruton, Roger. Art and Imagination. London: Methuen, 1974.Seddon, George. Sense of Place: A Response to an Environment, the Swan Coastal Plain, Western Australia. Melbourne: Bloomings Books, 2004.South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council and John Host with Chris Owen. “It’s Still in My Heart, This is My Country:” The Single Noongar Claim History. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 2009.Urban Bushland Council. “Bushland Issues.” 2015. 29 Sep. 2015 ‹http://www.bushlandperth.org.au/bushland-issues›.Welborn, Suzanne. Swan: The History of a Brewery. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 1987.Weller, Richard. Boomtown 2050: Scenarios for a Rapidly Growing City. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 2009. Whish-Wilson, David. Perth. Sydney: NewSouth Publishing, 2013.

IntroductionFood Studies is a relatively recent area of research enquiry in Australia and Magazine Studies is even newer (Le Masurier and Johinke), with the consequence that Australian culinary magazines are only just beginning to be investigated. Moreover, although many major libraries have not thought such popular magazines worthy of sustained collection (Fox and Sornil), considering these publications is important. As de Certeau argues, it can be of considerable consequence to identify and analyse everyday practices (such as producing and reading popular magazines) that seem so minor and insignificant as to be unworthy of notice, as these practices have the ability to affect our lives. It is important in this case as these publications were part of the post-war gastronomic environment in Australia in which national tastes in domestic cookery became radically internationalised (Santich). To further investigate Australian magazines, as well as suggesting how these cosmopolitan eating habits became more widely embraced, this article will survey the various ways in which the idea of “abroad” is expressed in one Australian culinary serial from the post-war period, Australian Wines & Food Quarterly magazine, which was published from 1956 to 1960. The methodological approach taken is an historically-informed content analysis (Krippendorff) of relevant material from these magazines combined with germane media data (Hodder). All issues in the serial’s print run have been considered.Australian Post-War Culinary PublishingTo date, studies of 1950s writing in Australia have largely focused on literary and popular fiction (Johnson-Wood; Webby) and literary criticism (Bird; Dixon; Lee). There have been far fewer studies of non-fiction writing of any kind, although some serial publications from this time have attracted some attention (Bell; Lindesay; Ross; Sheridan; Warner-Smith; White; White). In line with studies internationally, groundbreaking work in Australian food history has focused on cookbooks, and includes work by Supski, who notes that despite the fact that buying cookbooks was “regarded as a luxury in the 1950s” (87), such publications were an important information source in terms of “developing, consolidating and extending foodmaking knowledge” at that time (85).It is widely believed that changes to Australian foodways were brought about by significant post-war immigration and the recipes and dishes these immigrants shared with neighbours, friends, and work colleagues and more widely afield when they opened cafes and restaurants (Newton; Newton; Manfredi). Although these immigrants did bring new culinary flavours and habits with them, the overarching rhetoric guiding population policy at this time was assimilation, with migrants expected to abandon their culture, language, and habits in favour of the dominant British-influenced ways of living (Postiglione). While migrants often did retain their foodways (Risson), the relationship between such food habits and the increasingly cosmopolitan Australian food culture is much more complex than the dominant cultural narrative would have us believe. It has been pointed out, for example, that while the haute cuisine of countries such as France, Italy, and Germany was much admired in Australia and emulated in expensive dining (Brien and Vincent), migrants’ own preference for their own dishes instead of Anglo-Australian choices, was not understood (Postiglione). Duruz has added how individual diets are eclectic, “multi-layered and hybrid” (377), incorporating foods from both that person’s own background with others available for a range of reasons including availability, cost, taste, and fashion. In such an environment, popular culinary publishing, in terms of cookbooks, specialist magazines, and recipe and other food-related columns in general magazines and newspapers, can be posited to be another element contributing to this change.Australian Wines & Food QuarterlyAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly (AWFQ) is, as yet, a completely unexamined publication, and there appears to be only three complete sets of this magazine held in public collections. It is important to note that, at the time it was launched in the mid-1950s, food writing played a much less significant part in Australian popular publishing than it does today, with far fewer cookbooks released than today, and women’s magazines and the women’s pages of newspapers containing only small recipe sections. In this environment, a new specialist culinary magazine could be seen to be timely, an audacious gamble, or both.All issues of this magazine were produced and printed in, and distributed from, Melbourne, Australia. Although no sales or distribution figures are available, production was obviously a struggle, with only 15 issues published before the magazine folded at the end of 1960. The title of the magazine changed over this time, and issue release dates are erratic, as is the method in which volumes and issues are numbered. Although the number of pages varied from 32 up to 52, and then less once again, across the magazine’s life, the price was steadily reduced, ending up at less than half the original cover price. All issues were produced and edited by Donald Wallace, who also wrote much of the content, with contributions from family members, including his wife, Mollie Wallace, to write, illustrate, and produce photographs for the magazine.When considering the content of the magazine, most is quite familiar in culinary serials today, although AWFQ’s approach was radically innovative in Australia at this time when cookbooks, women’s magazines, and newspaper cookery sections focused on recipes, many of which were of cakes, biscuits, and other sweet baking (Bannerman). AWFQ not only featured many discursive essays and savory meals, it also featured much wine writing and review-style content as well as information about restaurant dining in each issue.Wine-Related ContentWine is certainly the most prominent of the content areas, with most issues of the magazine containing more wine-related content than any other. Moreover, in the early issues, most of the food content is about preparing dishes and/or meals that could be consumed alongside wines, although the proportion of food content increases as the magazine is published. This wine-related content takes a clearly international perspective on this topic. While many articles and advertisements, for example, narrate the long history of Australian wine growing—which goes back to early 19th century—these articles argue that Australia's vineyards and wineries measure up to international, and especially French, examples. In one such example, the author states that: “from the earliest times Australia’s wines have matched up to world standard” (“Wine” 25). This contest can be situated in Australia, where a leading restaurant (Caprice in Sydney) could be seen to not only “match up to” but also, indeed to, “challenge world standards” by serving Australian wines instead of imports (“Sydney” 33). So good, indeed, are Australian wines that when foreigners are surprised by their quality, this becomes newsworthy. This is evidenced in the following excerpt: “Nearly every English businessman who has come out to Australia in the last ten years … has diverted from his main discussion to comment on the high quality of Australian wine” (Seppelt, 3). In a similar nationalist vein, many articles feature overseas experts’ praise of Australian wines. Thus, visiting Italian violinist Giaconda de Vita shows a “keen appreciation of Australian wines” (“Violinist” 30), British actor Robert Speaight finds Grange Hermitage “an ideal wine” (“High Praise” 13), and the Swedish ambassador becomes their advocate (Ludbrook, “Advocate”).This competition could also be located overseas including when Australian wines are served at prestigious overseas events such as a dinner for members of the Overseas Press Club in New York (Australian Wines); sold from Seppelt’s new London cellars (Melbourne), or the equally new Australian Wine Centre in Soho (Australia Will); or, featured in exhibitions and promotions such as the Lausanne Trade Fair (Australia is Guest;“Wines at Lausanne), or the International Wine Fair in Yugoslavia (Australia Wins).Australia’s first Wine Festival was held in Melbourne in 1959 (Seppelt, “Wine Week”), the joint focus of which was the entertainment and instruction of the some 15,000 to 20,000 attendees who were expected. At its centre was a series of free wine tastings aiming to promote Australian wines to the “professional people of the community, as well as the general public and the housewife” (“Melbourne” 8), although admission had to be recommended by a wine retailer. These tastings were intended to build up the prestige of Australian wine when compared to international examples: “It is the high quality of our wines that we are proud of. That is the story to pass on—that Australian wine, at its best, is at least as good as any in the world and better than most” (“Melbourne” 8).There is also a focus on promoting wine drinking as a quotidian habit enjoyed abroad: “We have come a long way in less than twenty years […] An enormous number of husbands and wives look forward to a glass of sherry when the husband arrives home from work and before dinner, and a surprising number of ordinary people drink table wine quite un-selfconsciously” (Seppelt, “Advance” 3). However, despite an acknowledged increase in wine appreciation and drinking, there is also acknowledgement that this there was still some way to go in this aim as, for example, in the statement: “There is no reason why the enjoyment of table wines should not become an Australian custom” (Seppelt, “Advance” 4).The authority of European experts and European habits is drawn upon throughout the publication whether in philosophically-inflected treatises on wine drinking as a core part of civilised behaviour, or practically-focused articles about wine handling and serving (Keown; Seabrook; “Your Own”). Interestingly, a number of Australian experts are also quoted as stressing that these are guidelines, not strict rules: Crosby, for instance, states: “There is no ‘right wine.’ The wine to drink is the one you like, when and how you like it” (19), while the then-manager of Lindemans Wines is similarly reassuring in his guide to entertaining, stating that “strict adherence to the rules is not invariably wise” (Mackay 3). Tingey openly acknowledges that while the international-style of regularly drinking wine had “given more dignity and sophistication to the Australian way of life” (35), it should not be shrouded in snobbery.Food-Related ContentThe magazine’s cookery articles all feature international dishes, and certain foreign foods, recipes, and ways of eating and dining are clearly identified as “gourmet”. Cheese is certainly the most frequently mentioned “gourmet” food in the magazine, and is featured in every issue. These articles can be grouped into the following categories: understanding cheese (how it is made and the different varieties enjoyed internationally), how to consume cheese (in relation to other food and specific wines, and in which particular parts of a meal, again drawing on international practices), and cooking with cheese (mostly in what can be identified as “foreign” recipes).Some of this content is produced by Kraft Foods, a major advertiser in the magazine, and these articles and recipes generally focus on urging people to eat more, and varied international kinds of cheese, beyond the ubiquitous Australian cheddar. In terms of advertorials, both Kraft cheeses (as well as other advertisers) are mentioned by brand in recipes, while the companies are also profiled in adjacent articles. In the fourth issue, for instance, a full-page, infomercial-style advertisement, noting the different varieties of Kraft cheese and how to serve them, is published in the midst of a feature on cooking with various cheeses (“Cooking with Cheese”). This includes recipes for Swiss Cheese fondue and two pasta recipes: spaghetti and spicy tomato sauce, and a so-called Italian spaghetti with anchovies.Kraft’s company history states that in 1950, it was the first business in Australia to manufacture and market rindless cheese. Through these AWFQ advertisements and recipes, Kraft aggressively marketed this innovation, as well as its other new products as they were launched: mayonnaise, cheddar cheese portions, and Cracker Barrel Cheese in 1954; Philadelphia Cream Cheese, the first cream cheese to be produced commercially in Australia, in 1956; and, Coon Cheese in 1957. Not all Kraft products were seen, however, as “gourmet” enough for such a magazine. Kraft’s release of sliced Swiss Cheese in 1957, and processed cheese slices in 1959, for instance, both passed unremarked in either the magazine’s advertorial or recipes.An article by the Australian Dairy Produce Board urging consumers to “Be adventurous with Cheese” presented general consumer information including the “origin, characteristics and mode of serving” cheese accompanied by a recipe for a rich and exotic-sounding “Wine French Dressing with Blue Cheese” (Kennedy 18). This was followed in the next issue by an article discussing both now familiar and not-so familiar European cheese varieties: “Monterey, Tambo, Feta, Carraway, Samsoe, Taffel, Swiss, Edam, Mozzarella, Pecorino-Romano, Red Malling, Cacio Cavallo, Blue-Vein, Roman, Parmigiano, Kasseri, Ricotta and Pepato” (“Australia’s Natural” 23). Recipes for cheese fondues recur through the magazine, sometimes even multiple times in the same issue (see, for instance, “Cooking With Cheese”; “Cooking With Wine”; Pain). In comparison, butter, although used in many AWFQ’s recipes, was such a common local ingredient at this time that it was only granted one article over the entire run of the magazine, and this was largely about the much more unusual European-style unsalted butter (“An Expert”).Other international recipes that were repeated often include those for pasta (always spaghetti) as well as mayonnaise made with olive oil. Recurring sweets and desserts include sorbets and zabaglione from Italy, and flambéd crepes suzettes from France. While tabletop cooking is the epitome of sophistication and described as an international technique, baked Alaska (ice cream nestled on liquor-soaked cake, and baked in a meringue shell), hailing from America, is the most featured recipe in the magazine. Asian-inspired cuisine was rarely represented and even curry—long an Anglo-Australian staple—was mentioned only once in the magazine, in an article reprinted from the South African The National Hotelier, and which included a recipe alongside discussion of blending spices (“Curry”).Coffee was regularly featured in both articles and advertisements as a staple of the international gourmet kitchen (see, for example, Bancroft). Articles on the history, growing, marketing, blending, roasting, purchase, percolating and brewing, and serving of coffee were common during the magazine’s run, and are accompanied with advertisements for Bushell’s, Robert Timms’s and Masterfoods’s coffee ranges. AWFQ believed Australia’s growing coffee consumption was the result of increased participation in quality internationally-influenced dining experiences, whether in restaurants, the “scores of colourful coffee shops opening their doors to a new generation” (“Coffee” 39), or at home (Adams). Tea, traditionally the Australian hot drink of choice, is not mentioned once in the magazine (Brien).International Gourmet InnovationsAlso featured in the magazine are innovations in the Australian food world: new places to eat; new ways to cook, including a series of sometimes quite unusual appliances; and new ways to shop, with a profile of the first American-style supermarkets to open in Australia in this period. These are all seen as overseas innovations, but highly suited to Australia. The laws then controlling the service of alcohol are also much discussed, with many calls to relax the licensing laws which were seen as inhibiting civilised dining and drinking practices. The terms this was often couched in—most commonly in relation to the Olympic Games (held in Melbourne in 1956), but also in relation to tourism in general—are that these restrictive regulations were an embarrassment for Melbourne when considered in relation to international practices (see, for example, Ludbrook, “Present”). This was at a time when the nightly hotel closing time of 6.00 pm (and the performance of the notorious “six o’clock swill” in terms of drinking behaviour) was only repealed in Victoria in 1966 (Luckins).Embracing scientific approaches in the kitchen was largely seen to be an American habit. The promotion of the use of electricity in the kitchen, and the adoption of new electric appliances (Gas and Fuel; Gilbert “Striving”), was described not only as a “revolution that is being wrought in our homes”, but one that allowed increased levels of personal expression and fulfillment, in “increas[ing] the time and resources available to the housewife for the expression of her own personality in the management of her home” (Gilbert, “The Woman’s”). This mirrors the marketing of these modes of cooking and appliances in other media at this time, including in newspapers, radio, and other magazines. This included features on freezing food, however AWFQ introduced an international angle, by suggesting that recipe bases could be pre-prepared, frozen, and then defrosted to use in a range of international cookery (“Fresh”; “How to”; Kelvinator Australia). The then-new marvel of television—another American innovation—is also mentioned in the magazine ("Changing concepts"), although other nationalities are also invoked. The history of the French guild the Confrerie de la Chaine des Roitisseurs in 1248 is, for instance, used to promote an electric spit roaster that was part of a state-of-the-art gas stove (“Always”), and there are also advertisements for such appliances as the Gaggia expresso machine (“Lets”) which draw on both Italian historical antecedence and modern science.Supermarket and other forms of self-service shopping are identified as American-modern, with Australia’s first shopping mall lauded as the epitome of utopian progressiveness in terms of consumer practice. Judged to mark “a new era in Australian retailing” (“Regional” 12), the opening of Chadstone Regional Shopping Centre in suburban Melbourne on 4 October 1960, with its 83 tenants including “giant” supermarket Dickens, and free parking for 2,500 cars, was not only “one of the most up to date in the world” but “big even by American standards” (“Regional” 12, italics added), and was hailed as a step in Australia “catching up” with the United States in terms of mall shopping (“Regional” 12). This shopping centre featured international-styled dining options including Bistro Shiraz, an outdoor terrace restaurant that planned to operate as a bistro-snack bar by day and full-scale restaurant at night, and which was said to offer diners a “Persian flavor” (“Bistro”).ConclusionAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly was the first of a small number of culinary-focused Australian publications in the 1950s and 1960s which assisted in introducing a generation of readers to information about what were then seen as foreign foods and beverages only to be accessed and consumed abroad as well as a range of innovative international ideas regarding cookery and dining. For this reason, it can be posited that the magazine, although modest in the claims it made, marked a revolutionary moment in Australian culinary publishing. As yet, only slight traces can be found of its editor and publisher, Donald Wallace. The influence of AWFQ is, however, clearly evident in the two longer-lived magazines that were launched in the decade after AWFQ folded: Australian Gourmet Magazine and The Epicurean. 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