Academic literature on the topic 'Flamme – Essais'

Ce travail porte sur la caractérisation microstructurale, structurale et mécanique des dépôts métalliques à base Nickel déposés sous forme de poudres par la technique de projection thermique flamme-poudre sur un substrat type E335. Pour améliorer les propriétés de ces dépôts, des traitements thermiques sont préconisés en vue d’homogénéiser ces derniers et permettre d’obtenir de meilleures propriétés mécaniques. Ces post-traitements ont été réalisés à différentes températures 400, 600 et 800 °C avec un temps de maintien d’une heure et un refroidissement à l’air. La caractérisation structurale et microstructurale de la poudre et des dépôts est obtenue en utilisant le microscope électronique à balayage (MEB) et la diffraction X (DRX). Des relevés de micro duretés Vickers ont été également réalisés sur la surface de ces dépôts. Les essais tribologiques ont été réalisés avec une configuration pion-disque à différentes charges avec deux vitesses de glissement en vue de déterminer le taux d’usure. Les observations microstructurales ont montré que les traitements effectués aux températures de 400 et 600 °C ont réduit les porosités en rendant les microstructures plus homogènes et plus denses par le phénomène de colmatage. Par contre, le traitement à 800 °C a présenté un délaminage au niveau de l’interface substrat/dépôt. Les résultats d’usure ont révélé que la vitesse de glissement et la pression de contact appliquée influent sur la variation du taux d’usure et que les dépôts traités à 400 °C présentent une meilleure résistance à l’usure que ceux traités à 600 et 800 °C.

La présente étude a pour objet celui de tester l’effet de flambage sur le pouvoir rejetonnant de bananier plantain (Musa sapientum L.) in situ à Gbadolite en République Démocratique du Congo. Pour ce faire, un essai en blocs complets randomisés a été conduit en utilisant les variétés locales notamment Yongo, Mosantu et Ngbangele respectivement les cultivars de types french, vrai et faux corne, disposés en lignes pairées; donc, 4 blocs et 3 traitements qui sont 3 types de bananier plantain chacun représenté par un cultivar dont certains échantillons ont été flambés et d’autres non flambés. Il a été observé que le flambage a augmenté par rapport aux témoins le taux de rejetonnage à 183,3 % ; 200 % et 250 % respectivement pour les cultivars flambés des types vrai corne ; faux corne et french. Le nombre moyen des rejets par bulbe a été de 5 rejets par bulbe non flambé contre 15 rejets issus de bulbe flambé pour le cultivar Ngbangele, du type faux corne; 5 rejets provenus de cultivar Mosantu non flambé contre 16 rejets provenus de bulbe flambé, du type vrai corne et 6 rejets provenus de cultivar non flambé, Yongo, du type french contre 21 rejets issus des sujets flambés.

The technology for joining thermoplastics through welding offers numerous advantages over mechanical joining. Currently, the joining of composite parts with weight reduction and cost savings is being developed to improve aircraft performance. This paper proposes the use of oxygen-acetylene as a process for bonding composite materials. Oxyacetylene welding is a simple and economical method that can be suitable for polymeric materials. The advantage of applying this technique is a more accessible process that is composed of a portable system with low cost. In evaluating the welding efficiency for composite materials, the lap shear strength (LSS) mechanical test stands out among the most referenced essays in the literature. This work aimed to study the development of oxyacetylene flame welding as well as the optimization of welding parameters for polyetherimide/glass fiber composite. The optimization was performed using complete factorial planning 22 as a tool, and the variables studied were time and distance of the flame. With the optimized condition set as the response variable with the highest lap shear value, the joints obtained were measured for their quality by means of end-notched flexure mechanical testing, thermal analysis, and fracture analysis after LSS testing using optical and electronic microscopy.

Phytoremediation has been used as an alternative for removal of heavy metals in aquatic environments, but plant residence time and toxicity reduction need to be studied. Ecotoxicological bioassays and root anatomic studies were conducted in order to validate the phytoremediation of Echinochloa crus-galli L. at three different ages. The experiment was conducted using E. crus-galli seeds with processing factorial experimental design (2x3) and four replicates. Cadmium presence and absence (0.8 and 0 mg L-1) at three times (20, 30, and 45 days after germination). Cd levels were quantified by flame atomic absorption spectroscopy on both aerial parts and roots. A bioassay was performed testing both acute and chronic effects using microcrustacean Daphnia similis with the purpose of evaluating phytoremediation efficiency. Regardless of biomass, E. crus-galli L. can be used for 16 to 19 days for 45 days after germination (DAG), tolerating the phytotoxicity of this metal. The residual solution after phytoremediation had chronic effect on D. similis, indicating that the time taken was not sufficient to reduce the toxicity of the solution. Thus, ecotoxicological essays are important tools in evaluating the efficiency of this type of process. While E. crus-galli L. is a valuable tool in Cd phytoremediation programs, exposure time must be higher than 19 days to reduce concentrations of this metal in the water to conform to the CONAMA 357/2005 e 430/2011 standards.

Public space is where the interests of the community and its individuals as entities are articulated. It is fundamental to democratic governments. And as such, there should be reconciliation between the interests and actions of governmental policies and those of the citizen’s public interests as healthy democratic procedures. Unfortunately, this is not the case, since the neo-liberal and quasi-democratic societies still use hegemonic methodologies to implement their policies and ideologies, bypassing harsh criticism of public opinion and critical thought, even in the realm of public space. Such approaches are initiatives for actions in the field of cultural and artistic interventions performed in the spirit of trans-tactics (such as transmediality, transdisciplinarity, transhistoricism, transmemory, transnationalism), opposing the norms of social constraints and distorted values of the domination of capital, as opposed to history, collective memory, quality, and identity as paths to contemporaneity. This paper deals with the artistic actions carried out by a young group of individuals – Filip Jovanovski (artist), Ivana Vaseva (curator) and Kristina Lelovac (actor). It’s about a trilogy of performative actions: “If Buildings Would Talk”; “The Universal Hall in Flame” and “Dear Republic” which took place between 2015 and 2021. These are contemporary forms of cultural and artistic actions of an interactive character, which can be defined as trans-tactical performance essays. These participatory forms also point to the distorted boundaries of contemporary art in the public space of today where the loss of the boundaries of mediality, discipline, nationality, historicism become the main matrix for action against the policies of power. Article received: December 23, 2021; Article accepted: February 1, 2022; Published online: April 15, 2022; Original scholarly article

Il s’agit ici de proposer une première réflexion, un premier retour d’expérience, sur la chantabilité des traductions de letras flamencas qui ont été testées au sein de l’atelier Trad. Cant. Flam., et notamment d’interroger la méthodologie d’une telle mise à l’épreuve des traductions par le chant.

Danielle Clode is an Adelaide-based author who has written on prehistoric megafauna, Pacific exploration, killer whales and bushfires. She writes children’s books, essays, fiction and popular zoology, which have won awards, fellowships and prizes too numerous to mention. Her latest book, at the time of writing, is The Wasp and the Orchid, a biography of Australian nature writer Edith Coleman. Danielle and I have known each other for some years, and we are currently working together on an edited book about first contact between Australian Aboriginal people and explorers. For details of her publications and career, see her website at danielleclode.com.auA graduate in zoology from Oxford University, Danielle has worked as a zookeeper and a museum researcher. Growing up on the Eyre Peninsula, South Australia, she spent some of her childhood travelling coastal Australia with her family by boat. Danielle teaches creative and academic writing and in all her work she is conscious of the importance of form and voice. In this interview I asked her about style, genre and technique in her writing, particularly The Wasp and the Orchid (2018), Voyages to the South Seas: In Search of Terres Australes (2007) and A Future in Flames (2010).We spoke at her home in the Adelaide Hills in June 2018, and I first asked her about the combination of styles in A Future in Flames, her book about the history, science and future impact of bushfires in Australia.

IntroductionI stumble to my feet breathing heavily and, over the roar of a tank, a nearby soldier yells right into my face: “We’re surrounded! We have to hold this line!” I follow him, moving past burning debris and wounded men being helped walk back in the opposite direction. Shells explode around me, a whistle sounds, and then the Hun attack; shadowy figures that I fire upon as they approach through the battlefield fog and smoke. I shoot some. I take cover behind walls as others fire back. I reload the weapon. I am hit by incoming fire, and a red damage indicator appears onscreen, so I move to a better cover position. As I am hit again and again, the image becomes blurry and appears as if in slow-motion, the sound also becoming muffled. As an enemy wielding a flame-thrower appears and blasts me with thick fire, my avatar gasps and collapses. The screen fades to black.So far, so very normal in the World War One themed first-person shooter Battlefield 1 (Electronic Arts 2016). But then the game does something unanticipated. I expect to reappear—or respawn—in the same scenario to play better, to stay in the fight longer. Instead, the camera view switches to an external position, craning upwards cinematically from my character’s dying body. Text superimposed over the view indicates the minimalist epitaph: “Harvey Nottoway 1889-1918.” The camera view then races backwards, high over the battlefield and finally settles into position behind a mounted machine-gun further back from the frontline as the enemy advances closer. Immediately I commence shooting, mowing down German troops as they enter our trenches. Soon I am hit and knocked away from the machine-gun. Picking up a shotgun I start shooting the enemy at close-quarters, until I am once again overrun and my character collapses. Now the onscreen text states I was playing as “Dean Stevenson 1899-1918.”I have attempted this prologue to the Battlefield 1 campaign a number of times. No matter how skilfully I play, or how effectively I simply run away and hide from the combat, this pattern continues: the structure of the game forces the player’s avatar to be repeatedly killed in order for the narrative to progress. Over a series of player deaths, respawning as an entirely new character each time, the combat grows in ferocity and the music also becomes increasingly frenetic. The fighting turns to hand-to-hand combat, or shovel-to-head combat to be more precise, and eventually an artillery barrage wipes everybody out (Figure 1). At this point, the prologue is complete and the gamer may continue in a variety of single-player episodes in different theatres of WW1, each of which is structured according to the normal rules of combat games: when your avatar is killed, you respawn at the most recent checkpoint for a follow-up attempt.What are we to make of this alternative narrative structure deployed by the opening episode of Battlefield 1? In contrast to the normal video-game affordances of re-playability until completion, this narrative necessitation of death is in some ways motivated by the onscreen text that introduces the prologue: “What follows is frontline combat. You are not expected to survive.” Certainly it is true that the rest of the game (either single-player or in its online multiplayer deathmatch mode) follows the predictable pattern of dying, replaying, completing. And also we would not expect Battlefield 1 to be motivated primarily by a kind of historical fidelity given that an earlier instalment in the series, Battlefield 1942 (2002) was described by one reviewer as:a comic book version of WWII. The fact that any player can casually hop into a tank, drive around, hop out and pick off an enemy soldier with a sniper rifle, hop into a plane, parachute out, and then call in artillery fire (within the span of a few minutes) should tell you a lot about the game. (Osborne)However what is happening in this will-to-die structure of the game’s prologue represents an alternative and affectively unsettling game experience both in its ludological structure as well as its affective impact. Defamiliarization and Humanization Drawing upon a phenomenology of game-play, whereby the scholar examines the game “as played” (see Atkins and Kryzwinska; Keogh; Wilson) to consider how the text reveals itself to the player, I argue that the introductory single-player episode of Battlefield 1 functions to create a defamiliarizing effect on the player. Defamiliarization, the Russian Formalist term for the effect created by art when some unusual aspect of a text challenges accepted perceptions and/or representations (Schklovski; Thompson), is a remarkably common effect created by the techniques used in combat cinema and video-games. This is unsurprising. After all, warfare is one of the very examples Schklovski uses as something that audiences have developed habituated responses to and which artworks must defamiliarize. The effect may be created by many techniques in a text, and in certain cases a work may defamiliarize even its own form. For instance, recent work on the violence in Saving Private Ryan shows that during the lengthy Omaha Beach sequence, the most vivid instances of violence—including the famous shot of a soldier picking up his dismembered arm—occur well after the audience has potentially become inured to the onslaught of the earlier frequent, but less graphic, carnage (Bender Film Style and WW2). To make these moments stand out with equivalent horrific impact against the background of the Normandy beach bloodbath Spielberg also treats them with a stuttered frame effect and accompanying audio distortion, motivated (to use a related Formalist term) by the character’s apparent concussion and temporary disorientation. Effectively a sequence of point of view shots then, this moment in Private Ryan has become a model for many other war texts, and indeed the player’s death in the opening sequence of Battlefield 1 is portrayed using a very similar (though not identical) audio-visual treatment (Figure 2).Although the Formalists never played videogames, recent scholarship has approached the medium from a similar perspective. For example, Brendan Keogh has focused on the challenges to traditional videogame pleasure generated by the 2012 dystopian shooter Spec Ops: The Line. Keogh notes that the game developers intended to create displeasure and “[forcing] the player to consider what is obscured in the pixilation of war” by, for instance, having them kill fellow American troops in order for the game narrative to continue (Keogh 9). In addition, the game openly taunts the player’s expectations of entertainment based, uncritical run-and-gun gameplay with onscreen text during level loading periods such as “Do you feel like a hero yet?” (8).These kinds of challenges to the expectations of entertainment in combat shooters are found also in one sequence from the 2009 game Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 in which the player—as an undercover operative—is forced to participate in a terrorist attack in which civilians are killed (Figure 3). While playing that level, titled “No Russian,” Timothy Welsh argues: “The player may shoot the unarmed civilians or not; the level still creeps slowly forward regardless” (Welsh 409). In Welsh’s analysis, this level emerges as an unusual attempt by a popular video game to “humanize” the non-playing characters that are ordinarily gunned down without any critical and self-reflective thought by the player in most shooter games. The player is forced into a scenario in which they must make a highly difficult ethical choice, but the game will show civilians being killed either way.In contrast to the usual criticisms of violent video games—eg., that they may be held responsible for school shootings, increased adolescent aggression and so on —the “No Russian” sequence drew dramatic complaints of being a “terrorist simulator” (Welsh 389). But for Welsh this ethical choice facing the player, to shoot or not to shoot civilians, raises the game to a textual experience offering self-inspection. As in the fictional theme park of Westworld (HBO 2016), it does not really matter to the digital victim if a player kills them, but it should—and does—matter to the player. There are no external consequences to killing a computer game character composed only of pixels, or killing/raping a robot in the Westworld theme park, however there are internal consequences: it makes you a killer, or a rapist (see Harris and Bloom).Thus, from the perspective of defamiliarization, the game can be regarded as creating the effect that Matthew Payne has labelled “critical displeasure.” Writing about the way this is created by Spec Ops, Payne argues that:the result is a game that wields its affective distance as a critique of the necessary illusion that all military shooters trade in, but one that so few acknowledge. In particular, the game’s brutal mise-en-scène, its intertextual references to other war media, and its real and imagined opportunities for player choice, create a discordant feeling that lays bare the ease with which most video war games indulge in their power fantasies. (Payne 270)There is then, a minor tradition of alternative military-themed video game works that attempt to invite or enable the player to conduct a kind of ethical self-examination around their engagement with interactive representations of war via particular incursions of realism. The critical displeasure invoked by texts such as Spec Ops and the “No Russian” level of Call of Duty is particularly interesting in light of another military game that was ultimately cancelled by the publisher after it received public criticism. Titled Six Days in Fallujah, the game was developed with the participation of Marines who had fought in that real life battle and aimed to depict the events as they unfolded in 2004 during the campaign in Iraq. As Justin Rashid argues:the controversy that arose around Six Days in Fallujah was, of course, a result of the view that commercial video games can only ever be pure entertainment; games do not have the authority or credibility to be part of a serious debate. (Rashid 17)On this basis, perhaps a criterial attribute of an acceptable alternative military game is that there is enough familiarity to evoke some critical distance, but not too much familiarity that the player must think about legitimately real-life consequences and impact. After all, Call of Duty was a successful release, even amid the controversy of “No Russian.” This makes sense as the level does not really challenge the overall enjoyment of the game. The novelty of the level, on the one hand, is that it is merely one part of the general narrative and cannot be regarded as representative of the whole game experience. On the other hand, because none of the events and scenarios have a clear indexical relationship to real-world terrorist attacks (at least prior to the Brussels attack in 2016) it is easy to play the ethical choice of shooting or not shooting civilians as a mental exercise rather than a reflection on something that really happened. This is the same lesson learned by the developers of the 2010 game Medal of Honor who ultimately changed the name of the enemy soldiers from “The Taliban” to “OPFOR” (standing in for a generic “Opposing Forces”) after facing pressure from the US and UK Military who claimed that the multiplayer capacities of the game enabled players to play as the Taliban (see Rashid). Conclusion: Affective Friction in Battlefield 1In important ways then, these game experiences are precursors to Battlefield 1’s single player prologue. However, the latter does not attempt a wholesale deconstruction of the genre—as does Spec Ops—or represent an attempt to humanise (or perhaps re-humanise) the non-playable victim characters as Welsh suggests “No Russian” attempts to do. Battlefield 1’s opening structure of death-and-respawn-as-different-character can be read as humanizing the player’s avatar. But most importantly, I take Battlefield’s initially unusual gameplay as an aesthetic attempt to set a particular tone to the game. Motivated by the general cultural attitude of deferential respect for the Great War, Battlefield 1 takes an almost austere stance toward the violence depicted, paradoxically even as this impact is muted in the later gameplay structured according to normal multiplayer deathmatch rules of run-and-gun killing. The futility implied by the player’s constant dying is clearly motivated by an attempt at realism as one of the cultural memories of World War One is the sheer likelihood of being killed, whether as a frontline soldier or a citizen of a country engaged in combat (see Kramer). For Battlefield 1, the repeated dying is really part of the text’s aesthetic engagement. For this reason I prefer the term affective friction rather than critical displeasure. The austere tone of the game is indicated early, just prior to the prologue gameplay with onscreen text that reads:Battlefield 1 is based on events that unfolded over 100 years agoMore than 60 million soldiers fought in “The War to End All Wars”It ended nothing.Yet it changed the world forever. At a simple level, the player’s experience of being killed in order for the next part of the narrative to progress evokes this sense of futility. There have been real responses indicating this, for instance one reviewer argues that the structure is “a powerful treatment” (Howley). But there is potential for increased engagement with the game itself as the structure breaks the replay-cycle of usual games. For instance, another reviewer responds to the overall single-player campaign by suggesting “It is not something you can sit down and play through and not experience on a higher level than just clicking a mouse and tapping a keyboard” (Simpson). This affective friction amplifies, and draws attention to, the other advances in violent stylistics presented in the game. For instance, although the standard onscreen visual distortions are used to show character damage and the direction from which the attack came, the game does use slow-motion to draw out the character’s death. In addition, the game features incidental battlefield details of shell-shock, such as soldiers simply holding the head in their hands, frozen as the battle rages around them (Figure 4). The presence of flame-thrower troops, and subsequently the depictions of characters running as they burn to death are also significant developments in violent aesthetics from earlier games. These elements of violence are constitutive of the affective friction. We may marvel at the technical achievement of such real-time rendering of dynamic fire and the artistic care given to animate deaths and shell-shock depictions. But simultaneously, these “violent delights”—to borrow from Westworld’s citation of Shakespeare—are innovations upon the depictions of earlier games, even contemporary, combat games. Indeed, one critic has almost ashamedly noted: “For a game about one of the most horrific wars in human history, it sure is pretty” (Kain).These violent depictions show a continuation in the tradition of increased detail which has been linked to a model of “reported realism” as a means of understanding audience’s claims of realism in combat films and modern videogames as a result primarily of their hypersaturated audio-visual texture (Bender "Blood Splats"). Here, saturation refers not to the specific technical quality of colour saturation but to the densely layered audio-visual structure often found in contemporary films and videogames. For example, thick mixing of soundtracks, details of gore, and nuanced movements (particularly of dying characters) all contribute to a hypersaturated aesthetic which tends to prompt audiences to make claims of realism for a combat text regardless of whether or not these viewers/players have any real world referent for comparison. Of course, there are likely to be players who will simply blast through any shooter game, giving no regard to the critical displeasure offered by Spec Ops narrative choices or the ethical dilemma of “No Russian.” There are also likely to be players who bypass the single-player campaign altogether and only bother with the multiplayer deathmatch experience, which functions in the same way as it does in other shooter games, including the previous Battlefield games. But perhaps the value of this game’s attempt at alternative storytelling, with its emphasis on tone and affect, is that even the “kill-em-all” player may experience a momentary impact from the violence depicted. This is particularly important given that, to borrow from Stephanie Fisher’s argument in regard to WW2 games, many young people encounter the history of warfare through such popular videogames (Fisher). In the centenary period of World War One, especially in Australia amid the present Anzac commemorative moment, the opportunity for young audiences to engage with the significance of the events. As a side-note, the later part of the single-player campaign even has a Gallipoli sequence, though the narrative of this component is designed as an action-hero adventure. Indeed, this is one example of how the alternative dying-to-continue structure of the prologue creates an affective friction against the normal gameplay and narratives that feature in the rest of the text. The ambivalent ways in which this unsettling opening scenario impacts on the remainder of the game-play, including for instance its depiction of PTSD, is illustrated by some industry reviewers. As one reviewer argues, the game does generate the feeling that “war isn’t fun — except when it is” (Plante). From this view, the cognitive challenge created by the will to die in the prologue creates an affective friction with the normalised entertainment inherent in the game’s multiplayer run-and-gun components that dominate the rest of Battlefield 1’s experience. Therefore, although Battlefield 1 ultimately proves to be an entertainment-oriented combat shooter, it is significant that the developers of this major commercial production decided to include an experimental structure to the prologue as a way of generating tone and affect in a fresh way. ReferencesAtkins, Barry, and Tanya Kryzwinska. "Introduction: Videogame, Player, Text." Videogame, Player, Text. Eds. Atkins, Barry and Tanya Kryzwinska. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007.Bender, Stuart Marshall. "Blood Splats and Bodily Collapse: Reported Realism and the Perception of Violence in Combat Films and Videogames." Projections 8.2 (2014): 1-25.Bender, Stuart Marshall. Film Style and the World War II Combat Film. Newcastle, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.Fisher, Stephanie. "The Best Possible Story? Learning about WWII from FPS Video Games." Guns, Grenades, and Grunts: First-Person Shooter Games. Eds. Gerald A. Voorhees, Josh Call and Katie Whitlock. New York: Continuum, 2012. 299-318.Harris, Sam, and Paul Bloom. "Waking Up with Sam Harris #56 – Abusing Dolores." Sam Harris 12 Dec. 2016. Howley, Daniel. "Review: Beautiful Battlefield 1 Gives the War to End All Wars Its Due Respect." Yahoo! 2016. Kain, Erik. "'Battlefield 1' Is Stunningly Beautiful on PC." Forbes 2016.Keogh, Brendan. Spec Ops: The Line's Conventional Subversion of the Military Shooter. Paper presented at DiGRA 2013: Defragging Game Studies.Kramer, Alan. Dynamic of Destruction: Culture and Mass Killing in the First World War. UK: Oxford University Press, 2007. Osborne, Scott. "Battlefield 1942 Review." Gamesport 2002. Payne, Matthew Thomas. "War Bytes: The Critique of Militainment in Spec Ops: The Line." Critical Studies in Media Communication 31.4 (2014): 265-82. Plante, Chris. "Battlefield 1 Is Excellent Because the Series Has Stopped Trying to Be Call of Duty." The Verge 2016. Rashid, Justin. Terrorism in Video Games and the Storytelling War against Extremism. Paper presented at Hawaii International Conference on Arts and Humanities, 9-12 Jan. 2011.Schklovski, Viktor. "Sterne's Tristram Shandy: Stylistic Commentary." Trans. Lee T. Lemon and Marion J. Reis. Russian Formalist Criticism: Four Essays. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1965. 25-60.Simpson, Campbell. "Battlefield 1 Isn't a Game: It's a History Lesson." Kotaku 2016. Thompson, Kristin. Breaking the Glass Armor: Neoformalist Film Analysis. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1988. Welsh, Timothy. "Face to Face: Humanizing the Digital Display in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2." Guns, Grenade, and Grunts: First-Person Shooter Games. Eds. Gerald A. Voorhees, Josh. Call, and Katie Whitlock. New York: Continuum, 2012. 389-414. Wilson, Jason Anthony. "Gameplay and the Aesthetics of Intimacy." PhD diss. Brisbane: Griffith University, 2007.

Introduction Many examinations of magic and witchcraft in film and television focus on the gender dynamics depicted and what these can reveal about attitudes to women and power in the eras in which they were made. For example, Campbell, in Cheerfully Empowered: The Witch-Wife in Twentieth Century Literature, Television and Film draws from scholarship such as Greene's Bell, Book and Camera, Gibson's Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, and Murphy's The Suburban Gothic in American Popular Culture to suggest connections between witch-wife narratives and societal responses to feminism. Campbell explores both the allure and fear of powerful women, who are often tamed (or partially tamed) by marriage in these stories. These perspectives provide important insights into cultural imaginings of witches, and this paper aims to use anthropological perspectives to further analyse rituals, spells, and cosmologies of screen stories of magic and witchcraft, asking how these narratives have engaged with witchcraft trials, symbols of women as witches, and rituals and myths invoking goddesses. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a television series that ran for seven seasons (1997-2003), focusses on a young woman, The Slayer, who vanquishes vampires. As Abbott (1) explains, the vampires in seasons one and two are ruled by a particularly old and powerful vampire, The Master, and use prophetic language and ancient rituals. When Buffy kills The Master, the vampiric threat evolves with the character of Spike, a much younger vampire who kills The Master's successor, The Anointed One, calling for “a little less ritual and a little more fun” ('School Hard'). This scene is important to Abbott's thesis that what makes Buffy the Vampire Slayer such an effective television program is that the evil that she battles is not a product of an ancient world but the product of the real world itself. Buffy has used the past four years to painstakingly dismantle and rebuild the conventions of the vampire genre and work toward gradually disembedding the vampire/slayer dichotomy from religious ritual and superstition … what we describe as ‘evil’ is a natural product of the modern world. (Abbott 5) While distinguishing the series from earlier books and films is important, I suggest that, nonetheless, ritual and magic remain central to numerous plots in the series. Moreover, Child argues that Buffy the Vampire Slayer disrupts the male gaze of classical Hollywood films as theorised by Mulvey, not only by making the central action hero a young woman, but by offering rich, complex, and developmental narrative arcs for other characters such as Willow: a quiet fellow student at Buffy's school who initially uses her research skills with books, computers, and science to help the group. Willow’s access to knowledge about magic through Buffy's Watcher, Giles, and his library, together with her growing experience fighting with demons, leads her to teach herself witchcraft, and she and her growing magical powers, including the ability to conjure Greek goddesses such as Hecate and Diana, become central to multiple storylines in the series (Krzywinska). Corcoran, who explores teen witches in American popular culture in some depth, reflects on Willow's changes and developments in the context of problematic 'post-feminist' films of 1990s. Corcoran suggests these films offer viewers tropes of empowerment in the form of the 'makeover' of witch characters, who transform, but often in individualised ways that elude more fundamental questions of societal structures of race, class, and gender. Offering one of the most fluid and hybrid examples, Willow not only embraces magic as a conduit for power and self-expression but, as the seasons progress, she occupies a host of identificatory categories. Moving from shy high school 'geek' to trainee witch, from empowered sorceress to dark avenger, Willow regularly makes herself over in accordance with her fluctuating selfhood (Corcoran). Corcoran also notes how Willow's character brings together skills in both science and witchcraft in ways that echo world views of early modern Europe. This connects her apparently distinct selves and, I suggest, also demonstrates how the show engages with magic as real within its internal cosmology. Fairy Tale Witches This liberating, fluid, and transformative depiction of witches is not, however, the only one. Early in season one, the show reflects tropes of witchcraft found in fairy tale and fantasy films such as Snow White and The Wizard of Oz. Both films are deeply ambivalent in their portraits of fascinating powerful witches, who are, however, also defined by being old, ugly, and/or deeply jealous of and threatening towards younger women (Zipes). The episode “Witch” reproduces these patriarchal rivalries, as the witch of the episode title is the mother of a classmate of Buffy, called Amy, who has used magic to swap bodies with her daughter in an attempt to recapture her lost glory as a famous cheerleader. There are debates around the symbolism of witches and crones, especially those in fairytales, and whether they can be re-purposed. For example, Rountree in 'The New Witch of the West' and Embracing the Witch and the Goddess has conducted interviews and participant observation with feminist witches in New Zealand who use both goddess and witch symbols in their ritual practice and feminist understandings of themselves and society. By embracing both the witch and the goddess, feminist witches disrupt what they regard as false divisions and dichotomies between these symbols and the pressures of the divided self that they argue have been imposed upon women by patriarchy. In these conceptions, the crone is not only a negative symbol, but can be re-evaluated as one of three aspects of the goddess (maiden, mother, and crone), depicting the cycles of all life and also enabling women to embrace the darker aspects of their own natures and emotions (Greenwood; Rountree 'New Witch'; Walker). Witch Trials That said, Germaine, examining witches in folk horror films such as The Witch and The Wicker Man, advises caution about witch images. Drawing from Hutton's The Witch, she explores grotesque images of the witch from the early modern witch trials, arguing that horror cinema can subvert older ideas about witches, but it also reveals their continued power. Indeed, horror cinema has forged the witch into a deeply ambiguous figure that proves problematic for feminism and its project to subvert or otherwise destabilize misogynist symbols. (Germaine 22) Purkiss's examination of early modern witchcraft trials in The Witch in History also questions many assumptions about the period. Contrary to Rountree's 'The New Witch of the West' (222), Purkiss argues that there is no evidence to suggest that healing and midwifery were central concerns of witch hunters, nor were those accused of witchcraft in this period regarded as particularly sexually liberated or lesbian. Moreover, the famous Malleus Maleficarum, a text that is “still the main source for the view that witch-hunting was woman-hunting” was, in fact, disdained by many early modern authorities (Purkiss 7-8). Rather, rivalries and social tensions in communities combined with broader societal politics to generate accusations: a picture that is more in line with Stewart and Strathern's cross-cultural study, Witchcraft, Sorcery, Rumors and Gossip, of the relationship between witchcraft and gossip. In the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “Gingerbread”, Amy has matured and has begun to engage with magic herself, as has Willow. The witch trial of the episode is not, however, triggered by this, but is rather initiated by Buffy and her mother finding the bodies of two dead children. Buffy's mother Joyce quickly escalates from understandable concern to a full-on assault on magical practice and knowledge as she founds MOO (Mothers Opposed to the Occult), who raid school lockers, confiscate books from the school library, and eventually try to burn them and Buffy, Willow, and Amy. The episode evokes fairy tales because the 'big bad' is a monster who disguises itself as Hansel and Gretel. As Giles explains, fairy tales can sometimes be real, and in this case, the monster feeds a community its worst fears and thrives off the hatred and chaos that ensues. However, his references to European Wicca covens are somewhat misleading. Hutton, in The Triumph of the Moon, explains that Wicca was founded in the 1950s in England by Gerald Gardner, and claims it to be a continuation of older pagan witch traditions that have largely been discredited. The episode therefore tries to combine a comment on the irrationality and dangers of witch hunts while also suggesting that (within the cosmology of the show) magic is real. Buffy's confrontation with her mother illustrates this. Furious about the confiscation of the library's occult collection, Buffy argues that without the knowledge they contain, young people are not more protected, but rather rendered defenceless, arguing that “maybe next time the world gets sucked into hell, I won't be able to stop it because the anti-hell-sucking book isn't on the approved reading list!” Thus, she simultaneously makes a general point about knowledge as a defence against the evils of the world, while also emphasising how magic is not merely symbolic for her and her friends, but a real, practical, problem and a combatant tool. Spells Spells take considerable skill and practice to master as they are linked to strong emotions but also need mental focus and clarity. Willow's learning curve as a witch is an important illustrator of this principle, as her spells do not always do what she had intended, or rather, she is not always wise to her own intentions. These ideas are also found in anthropological examples (Greenwood). Malinowski, an anthropologist of the Trobriand Islands, theorised that spells and magical objects have their origins in gestures and words that express the emotional states and intentions of the spellcaster. Over time, these became refined and codified in a society, becoming traditional spells that can amplify, focus, and direct the magician's will (Malinowski). In the episode “Witch”, Giles demonstrates the relationship between spells and intention as, casting a spell to reverse Amy's mother's switching of their bodies, he shouts in a commanding voice 'Release!' Willow also hones skills of concentration and directing her will through the practice of pencil floating, a seemingly small magical technique that nonetheless saves her life when she is captured by enemies and narrowly escapes being bitten by a vampire by floating a pencil and staking him with it in the episode “Choices”. The pencil is also used in another episode to illustrate the importance of focus and emotional balance. Willow explains to Buffy that she is honing these skills as she gently spins a pencil in the air, but as the conversation turns to Faith (a rogue Slayer who has hurt Willow's friends), she is distracted and the pencil spins wildly out of control before flying into a tree (“Dopplegangland”). In another example, Willow tries to conjure lights that will guide her out of difficulty in a haunted house, but, unable to make up her mind about where the lights should take her, she is plagued by them multiplying and spinning in multiple directions like a swarm of insects, thereby acting as an illustrator of her refracted metal state (“Fear Itself”). The series also explores the often comical consequences when love spells are cast with unclear motives. In the episode “Bewitched Bothered and Bewildered”, Buffy's friend Xander persuades Amy to cast a love spell on Cordelia who has just broken up with him. Amy warns him that for love spells, the intention should be pure, and is worried that Xander only wants revenge on Cordelia. Predictably, the spell goes wrong, as Cordelia is immune to Xander but every other woman that comes into proximity with him is overcome with obsession for him. Fleeing hordes of women, Xander and Cordelia have the space to talk, and impressed with his efforts to try to win her back, Cordelia rekindles the relationship, defying her traditional friendship circle. In this way, the spell both does not and does work, perhaps because, although Xander thinks he wants Cordelia to be enchanted, in fact what he really wants is her genuine affection and respect. Another example of spells going amiss is in the episode “Something Blue”, when Willow responds to a break-up by reverting to magic. Despondent over her boyfriend Oz leaving town, she wants to accelerate her grieving process and heal more quickly, and casts a spell to have her will be done in order to try to make that happen. The spell, however, does not work as expected but manifests her words about other things when she speaks with passion, rendering Giles blind when she says he does not see (meaning he does not understand her plight), and in another instance of the literal interpretation of Willow’s word choices causes Buffy and the vampire Spike to stop fighting, fall in love, and become an engaged couple. The episode therefore suggests the power of words to manifest unconscious intentions. Words may also, in the Buffyverse, have power in themselves. Overbey and Preston-Matto explore the power of words in the series, using the episode “Superstar” in which Xander speaks some Latin words in front of an open book that responds by spontaneously bursting into flames. They argue that the materiality of language in Buffy the Vampire Slayer [means that] words and utterances have palpable power and their rules must be respected if they are to be wielded as weapons in the fight against evil. (Overbey and Preston Matto 73) However, in drawing upon Searle's Speech Acts they emphasise the relationship between speech acts and meaning, but there are also examples that the sounds in themselves are efficacious, even if the speaker does not understand them – for example, when Willow tries to do the ritual to restore Angel’s soul to him and explains to Oz that it does not matter if he understands the related chant as long as he says it (“Becoming part 2”). The idea that words in themselves have power is also present in the work of Stoller, an ethnographer and magical apprentice to Songhay sorcerers living in the Republic of Niger. He documents a complex and very personal engagement with magic that he found fascinating but dangerous, giving him new powers but also subjecting him to magical attacks (Stoller and Olkes). This experience helped to cultivate his interest in the often under-reported sensuous aspects of anthropology, including the power of sound in spells, which he argues has an energy that goes beyond what the word represents. Moreover, skilled magicians can 'hear' things happening to the subtle essence of a person during rituals (Stoller). Seeing Other Realities Sight is also key to numerous magical practices. Greenwood, for example, has done participant observation with UK witches, including training in the arts of visualisation. Linked to general health benefits of meditation and imaginative play, such practices are also thought to connect adepts to 'other worlds' and their associated powers (Greenwood). Later seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer also depict skills in meditation and concentration, such as in the episode “No Place Like Home”, in which Buffy, worried about her sick mother, uses a spell supposedly created by a French sixteenth-century sorcerer called 'pull the curtain back' to try to see if her mother’s illness is caused by a spell. She uses incense and a ritual circle of sand to put herself into a trance and in that altered state of consciousness sees that her sister, Dawn, was not born to her mother, but has been placed into her family by magic. In another example, in the episode “Who are You?”, Willow has begun a relationship with fellow witch Tara and wants to introduce her to Buffy. However, the rogue Slayer, Faith, has escaped and switched bodies with Buffy, and Tara realises that something is wrong. She suggests doing a spell with Willow to investigate by seeing beyond the physical world and travelling to the nether realm using astral projection. This rather beautiful scene has been interpreted as a symbolic depiction of their sexual relationship (Gibson), but it is also suggesting that, within the context of the series, alternate dimensions, and spells to transport practitioners there, are not purely symbolic. Conclusion The idea that magic, monsters, and demons in the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer act to some extent as metaphors for the challenges that young people face growing up in America is well known (Little). While this is certainly true, at least some of the multiple examples of magic in the series have clear resemblances to witchcraft in numerous social worlds. This depth is potentially exciting for viewers, but it also makes the show's more negative and ambiguous tropes more troubling. Willow and Tara's relationship can be interpreted as showing their independence and rejection of patriarchy, but Willow identifying as lesbian later in the series obscures her earlier relationships with men and her potential identification as bi-sexual, suggesting a need on the part of the show's writers to “contain her metamorphic selfhood” (Corcoran 158-159). Moreover, the identity of lesbians as witches in a vampire narrative is fraught with potentially homophobic associations and stereotypes (Wilts), and one of the few positive depictions of a lesbian relationship on television was ruined by the brutal murder of the Tara character and Willow's subsequent out-of-control magical rampage, bringing the storyline back in line with murderous clichés (Wilts; Gibson). Furthermore, storylines where Willow cannot control her powers, or they are seen as an addiction to evil, make an uncomfortable comment on women and power more generally: a point which Corcoran highlights in relation to Nancy's story in The Craft. Ultimately, representations of magic and witchcraft are representations of power, and this makes them highly significant for societal understandings of power relations, particularly given the complex relationships between witch-hunting and misogyny. The symbols of woman-as-witch have been re-appropriated by fans of witch narratives and feminists, and perhaps most intriguingly, by people who regard magical power as not only symbolic power but as a way to tap into subtle forces and other worlds. Buffy the Vampire Slayer offers something to all of these groups, but all too often reverts to patriarchal tropes. Audiences (some of whom may be magicians) await what film and television witches come next. 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Despite the now-traditional tendency of noir scholarship to call attention to the retrospective and constructed nature of this genre— James Naremore argues that film noir is best regarded as a “mythology”— one feature that has rarely come under question is its association with the city (2). Despite the existence of numerous rural noirs, the depiction of urban space is associated with this genre more consistently than any other element. Even in critical accounts that attempt to deconstruct the solidity of the noir genre, the city is left as an implicit inclusion, and the country, an implict exclusion. Naremore, for example, does not include the urban environment in a list of the central tenets of film noir that he calls into question: “nothing links together all the things described as noir—not the theme of crime, not a cinematographic technique, not even a resistance to Aristotelian narratives or happy endings” (10). Elizabeth Cowie identifies film noir a “fantasy,” whose “tenuous critical status” has been compensated for “by a tenacity of critical use” (121). As part of Cowie’s project, to revise the assumption that noirs are almost exclusively male-centered, she cites character types, visual style, and narrative tendencies, but never urban spaces, as familiar elements of noir that ought to be reconsidered. If the city is rarely tackled as an unnecessary or part-time element of film noir in discursive studies, it is often the first trait identified by critics in the kind of formative, characteristic-compiling studies that Cowie and Naremore work against.Andrew Dickos opens Street with No Name: A History of the Classic American Film Noir with a list of noir’s key attributes. The first item is “an urban setting or at least an urban influence” (6). Nicholas Christopher maintains that “the city is the seedbed of film noir. […] However one tries to define or explain noir, the common denominator must always be the city. The two are inseparable” (37). Though the tendencies of noir scholars— both constructive and deconstructive— might lead readers to believe otherwise, rural locations figure prominently in a number of noir films. I will show that the noir genre is, indeed, flexible enough to encompass many films set predominantly or partly in rural locations. Steve Neale, who encourages scholars to work with genre terms familiar to original audiences, would point out that the rural noir is an academic discovery not an industry term, or one with much popular currency (166). Still, this does not lessen the critical usefulness of this subgenre, or its implications for noir scholarship.While structuralist and post-structuralist modes of criticism dominated film genre criticism in the 1970s and 80s, as Thomas Schatz has pointed out, these approaches often sacrifice close attention to film texts, for more abstract, high-stakes observations: “while there is certainly a degree to which virtually every mass-mediated cultural artifact can be examined from [a mythical or ideological] perspective, there appears to be a point at which we tend to lose sight of the initial object of inquiry” (100). Though my reading of these films sidesteps attention to social and political concerns, this article performs the no-less-important task of clarifying the textual features of this sub-genre. To this end, I will survey the tendencies of the rural noir more generally, mentioning more than ten films that fit this subgenre, before narrowing my analysis to a reading of Moonrise (Frank Borzage, 1948), Thieves’ Highway (Jules Dassin, 1949), They Live By Night (Nicholas Ray, 1949) and On Dangerous Ground (Nicholas Ray, 1952). Robert Mitchum tries to escape his criminal life by settling in a small, mountain-side town in Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947). A foggy marsh provides a dramatic setting for the Bonnie and Clyde-like demise of lovers on the run in Gun Crazy (Joseph Lewis, 1950). In The Asphalt Jungle (John Huston, 1950), Sterling Hayden longs to return home after he is forced to abandon his childhood horse farm for a life of organised crime in the city. Rob Ryan plays a cop unable to control his violent impulses in On Dangerous Ground (Nicholas Ray, 1952). He is re-assigned from New York City to a rural community up-state in hopes that a less chaotic environment will have a curative effect. The apple orchards of Thieves’ Highway are no refuge from networks of criminal corruption. In They Live By Night, a pair of young lovers, try to leave their criminal lives behind, hiding out in farmhouses, cabins, and other pastoral locations in the American South. Finally, the location of prisons explains a number of sequences set in spare, road-side locations such as those in The Killer is Loose (Budd Boetticher, 1956), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), and Raw Deal (Anthony Mann, 1948). What are some common tendencies of the rural noir? First, they usually feature both rural and urban settings, which allows the portrayal of one to be measured against the other. What we see of the city structures the definition of the country, and vice versa. Second, the lead character moves between these two locations by driving. For criminals, the car is more essential for survival in the country than in the city, so nearly all rural noirs are also road movies. Third, nature often figures as a redemptive force for urbanites steeped in lives of crime. Fourth, the curative quality of the country is usually tied to a love interest in this location: the “nurturing woman” as defined by Janey Place, who encourages the protagonist to forsake his criminal life (60). Fifth, the country is never fully crime-free. In The Killer is Loose, for example, an escaped convict’s first victim is a farmer, whom he clubs before stealing his truck. The convict (Wendell Corey), then, easily slips through a motorcade with the farmer’s identification. Here, the sprawling countryside provides an effective cover for the killer. This farmland is not an innocent locale, but the criminal’s safety-net. In films where a well-intentioned lead attempts to put his criminal life behind him by moving to a remote location, urban associates have little trouble tracking him down. While the country often appears, to protagonists like Jeff in Out of the Past or Bowie in They Live By Night, as an ideal place to escape from crime, as these films unfold, violence reaches the countryside. If these are similar points, what are some differences among rural noirs? First, there are many differences by degree among the common elements listed above. For instance, some rural noirs present their location with unabashed romanticism, while others critique the idealisation of these locations; some “nurturing women” are complicit with criminal activity, while others are entirely innocent. Second, while noir films are commonly known for treating similar urban locations, Los Angeles in particular, these films feature a wide variety of locations: Out of the Past and Thieves’ Highway take place in California, the most common setting for rural noirs, but On Dangerous Ground is set in northern New England, They Live by Night takes place in the Depression-era South, Moonrise in Southern swampland, and the most dynamic scene of The Asphalt Jungle is in rural Kentucky. Third, these films also vary considerably in the balance of settings. If the three typical locations of the rural noir are the country, the city, and the road, the distribution of these three locations varies widely across these films. The location of The Asphalt Jungle matches the title until its dramatic conclusion. The Hitch-hiker, arguably a rural noir, is set in travelling cars, with just brief stops in the barren landscape outside. Two of the films I analyse, They Live By Night and Moonrise are set entirely in the country; a remarkable exception to the majority of films in this subgenre. There are only two other critical essays on the rural noir. In “Shadows in the Hinterland: Rural Noir,” Jonathan F. Bell contextualises the rural noir in terms of post-war transformations of the American landscape. He argues that these films express a forlorn faith in the agrarian myth while the U.S. was becoming increasingly developed and suburbanised. That is to say, the rural noir simultaneously reflects anxiety over the loss of rural land, but also the stubborn belief that the countryside will always exist, if the urbanite needs it as a refuge. Garry Morris suggests the following equation as the shortest way to state the thematic interest of this genre: “Noir = industrialisation + (thwarted) spirituality.” He attributes much of the malaise of noir protagonists to the inhospitable urban environment, “far from [society’s] pastoral and romantic and spiritual origins.” Where Bell focuses on nine films— Detour (1945), The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), Out of the Past (1947), Key Largo (1948), Gun Crazy (1949), On Dangerous Ground (1952), The Hitch-Hiker (1953), Split Second (1953), and Killer’s Kiss (1955)— Morris’s much shorter article includes just The Asphalt Jungle (1950) and Gun Crazy. Of the four films I discuss, only On Dangerous Ground has previously been treated as part of this subgenre, though it has never been discussed alongside Nicholas Ray’s other rural noir. To further the development of the project that these authors have started— the formation of a rural noir corpus— I propose the inclusion of three additional films in this subgenre: Moonrise (1948), They Live by Night (1949), and Thieves’ Highway (1949). With both On Dangerous Ground and They Live by Night to his credit, Nicholas Ray has the distinction of being the most prolific director of rural noirs. In They Live by Night, two young lovers, Bowie (Farley Granger) and Keechie (Cathy O’Donnell), attempt to escape from their established criminal lives. Twenty-three year old Bowie has just been released from juvenile prison and finds rural Texas refreshing: “Out here, the air smells different,” he says. He meets Keechie through her father, a small time criminal organiser who would be happy to keep her secluded for life. When one of Bowie’s accomplices, Chicamaw (Howard DaSilva), shoots a policeman after a robbing a bank with Bowie, the young couple is forced to run. Foster Hirsch calls They Live by Night “a genre rarity, a sentimental noir” (34). The naïve blissfulness of their affection is associated with the primitive settings they navigate. Though Bowie and Keechie are the most sympathetic protagonists of any rural noir, this is no safeguard against an inevitable, characteristically noir demise. Janey Place writes, “the young lovers are doomed, but the possibility of their love transcends and redeems them both, and its failure criticises the urbanised world that will not let them live” (63). As indicated here, the country offers the young lovers refuge for some time, and their bond is depicted as wonderfully strong, but it is doomed by the stronger force of the law.Raymond Williams discusses how different characteristics are associated with urban and rural spaces:On the country has gathered the idea of a natural way of life: of peace, innocence, and simple virtue. On the city has gathered the idea of an achieved center: of learning, communication, light. Powerful hostile associations have also developed: on the city as a place of noise, worldliness and ambition; on the country as a place of backwardness, ignorance, limitation. (1) They Live By Night breaks down these dichotomies, showing the persistence of crime rooted in rural areas.Bowie desires to “get squared around” and live a more natural life with Keechie. Williams’ country adjectives— “peace, innocence, and simple virtue”— describe the nature of this relationship perfectly. Yet, criminal activity, usually associated with the city, has an overwhelmingly strong presence in this region and their lives. Bowie, following the doomed logic of many a crime film character, plans to launch a new, more honest life with cash raised in a heist. Keechie recognises the contradictions in this plan: “Fine way to get squared around, teaming with them. Stealing money and robbing banks. You’ll get in so deep trying to get squared, they’ll have enough to keep you in for two life times.” For Bowie, crime and the pursuit of love are inseparably bound, refuting the illusion of the pure and innocent countryside personified by characters like Mary Malden in On Dangerous Ground and Ann Miller in Out of the Past.In Ray’s other rural noir, On Dangerous Ground, a lonely, angry, and otherwise burned out cop, Wilson (Rob Ryan), finds both love and peace in his time away from the city. While on his up-state assignment, Wilson meets Mary Walden (Ida Lupino), a blind woman who lives a secluded life miles away from this already desolate, rural community. Mary has a calming influence on Wilson, and fits well within Janey Place’s notion of the archetypal nurturing woman in film noir: “The redemptive woman often represents or is part of a primal connection with nature and/or with the past, which are safe, static states rather than active, exciting ones, but she can sometimes offer the only transcendence possible in film noir” (63).If, as Colin McArthur observes, Ray’s characters frequently seek redemption in rural locales— “[protagonists] may reject progress and modernity; they may choose to go or are sent into primitive areas. […] The journeys which bring them closer to nature may also offer them hope of salvation” (124) — the conclusions of On Dangerous Ground versus They Live By Night offer two markedly different resolutions to this narrative. Where Bowie and Keechie’s life on the lam cannot be sustained, On Dangerous Ground, against the wishes of its director, portrays a much more romanticised version of pastoral life. According to Andrew Dickos, “Ray wanted to end the film on the ambivalent image of Jim Wilson returning to the bleak city,” after he had restored order up-state (132). The actual ending is more sentimental. Jim rushes back north to be with Mary. They passionately kiss in close-up, cueing an exuberant orchestral score as The End appears over a slow tracking shot of the majestic, snow covered landscape. In this way, On Dangerous Ground overturns the usual temporal associations of rural versus urban spaces. As Raymond Williams identifies, “The common image of the country is now an image of the past, and the common image of the city an image of the future” (297). For Wilson, by contrast, city life was no longer sustainable and rurality offers his best means for a future. Leo Marx noted in a variety of American pop culture, from Mark Twain to TV westerns and magazine advertising, a “yearning for a simpler, more harmonious style of life, and existence ‘closer to nature,’ that is the psychic root of all pastoralism— genuine and spurious” (Marx 6). Where most rural noirs expose the agrarian myth as a fantasy and a sham, On Dangerous Ground, exceptionally, perpetuates it as actual and effectual. Here, a bad cop is made good with a few days spent in a sparsely populated area and with a woman shaped by her rural upbringing.As opposed to On Dangerous Ground, where the protagonist’s movement from city to country matches his split identity as a formerly corrupt man wishing to be pure, Frank Borzage’s B-film Moonrise (1948) is located entirely in rural or small-town locations. Set in the fictional Southern town of Woodville, which spans swamps, lushly wooded streets and aging Antebellum mansions, the lead character finds good and bad within the same rural location and himself. Dan (Dane Clark) struggles to escape his legacy as the son of a murderer. This conflict is irreparably heightened when Dan kills a man (who had repeatedly teased and bullied him) in self-defence. The instability of Dan’s moral compass is expressed in the way he treats innocent elements of the natural world: flies, dogs, and, recalling Out of the Past, a local deaf boy. He is alternately cruel and kind. Dan is finally redeemed after seeking the advice of a black hermit, Mose (Rex Ingram), who lives in a ramshackle cabin by the swamp. He counsels Dan with the advice that men turn evil from “being lonesome,” not for having “bad blood.” When Dan, eventually, decides to confess to his crime, the sheriff finds him tenderly holding a search hound against a bucolic, rural backdrop. His complete comfortability with the landscape and its creatures finally allows Dan to reconcile the film’s opening opposition. He is no longer torturously in between good and evil, but openly recognises his wrongs and commits to do good in the future. If I had to select just a single shot to illustrate that noirs are set in rural locations more often than most scholarship would have us believe, it would be the opening sequence of Moonrise. From the first shot, this film associates rural locations with criminal elements. The credit sequence juxtaposes pooling water with an ominous brass score. In this disorienting opening, the camera travels from an image of water, to a group of men framed from the knees down. The camera dollies out and pans left, showing that these men, trudging solemnly, are another’s legal executioners. The frame tilts upward and we see a man hung in silhouette. This dense shot is followed by an image of a baby in a crib, also shadowed, the water again, and finally the execution scene. If this sequence is a thematic montage, it can also be discussed, more simply, as a series of establishing shots: a series of images that, seemingly, could not be more opposed— a baby, a universal symbol of innocence, set against the ominous execution, cruel experience— are paired together by virtue of their common location. The montage continues, showing that the baby is the son of the condemned man. As Dan struggles with the legacy of his father throughout the film, this opening shot continues to inform our reading of this character, split between the potential for good or evil.What a baby is to Moonrise, or, to cite a more familiar reference, what the insurance business is to many a James M. Cain roman noir, produce distribution is to Jules Dassin’s Thieves’ Highway (1949). The apple, often a part of wholesome American myths, is at the centre of this story about corruption. Here, a distribution network that brings Americans this hearty, simple product is connected with criminal activity and violent abuses of power more commonly portrayed in connection with cinematic staples of organised crime such as bootlegging or robbery. This film portrays bad apples in the apple business, showing that no profit driven enterprise— no matter how traditional or rural— is beyond the reach of corruption.Fitting the nature of this subject, numerous scenes in the Dassin film take place in the daylight (in addition to darkness), and in the countryside (in addition to the city) as we move between wine and apple country to the market districts of San Francisco. But if the subject and setting of Thieves’ Highway are unusual for a noir, the behaviour of its characters is not. Spare, bright country landscapes form the backdrop for prototypical noir behaviour: predatory competition for money and power.As one would expect of a film noir, the subject of apple distribution is portrayed with dynamic violence. In the most exciting scene of the film, a truck careens off the road after a long pursuit from rival sellers. Apples scatter across a hillside as the truck bursts into flames. This scene is held in a long-shot, as unscrupulous thugs gather the produce for sale while the unfortunate driver burns to death. Here, the reputedly innocent American apple is subject to cold-blooded, profit-maximizing calculations as much as the more typical topics of noir such as blackmail, fraud, or murder. Passages on desolate roads and at apple orchards qualify Thieves’ Highway as a rural noir; the dark, cynical manner in which capitalist enterprise is treated is resonant with nearly all film noirs. Thieves’ Highway follows a common narrative pattern amongst rural noirs to gradually reveal rural spaces as connected to criminality in urban locations. Typically, this disillusioning fact is narrated from the perspective of a lead character who first has a greater sense of safety in rural settings but learns, over the course of the story, to be more wary in all locations. In Thieves’, Nick’s hope that apple-delivery might earn an honest dollar (he is the only driver to treat the orchard owners fairly) gradually gives way to an awareness of the inevitable corruption that has taken over this enterprise at all levels of production, from farmer, to trucker, to wholesaler, and thus, at all locations, the country, the road, and the city.Between this essay, and the previous work of Morris and Bell on the subject, we are developing a more complete survey of the rural noir. Where Bell’s and Morris’s essays focus more resolutely on rural noirs that relied on the contrast of the city versus the country— which, significantly, was the first tendency of this subgenre that I observed— Moonrise and They Live By Night demonstrate that this genre can work entirely apart from the city. From start to finish, these films take place in small towns and rural locations. As opposed to Out of the Past, On Dangerous Ground, or The Asphalt Jungle, characters are never pulled back to, nor flee from, an urban life of crime. Instead, vices that are commonly associated with the city have a free-standing life in the rural locations that are often thought of as a refuge from these harsh elements. If both Bell and Morris study the way that rural noirs draw differences between the city and country, two of the three films I add to the subgenre constitute more complete rural noirs, films that work wholly outside urban locations, not just in contrast with it. Bell, like me, notes considerable variety in rural noirs locations, “desert landscapes, farms, mountains, and forests all qualify as settings for consideration,” but he also notes that “Diverse as these landscapes are, this set of films uses them in surprisingly like-minded fashion to achieve a counterpoint to the ubiquitous noir city” (219). In Bell’s analysis, all nine films he studies, feature significant urban segments. He is, in fact, so inclusive as to discuss Stanley Kubrick’s Killer’s Kiss as a rural noir even though it does not contain a single frame shot or set outside of New York City. Rurality is evoked only as a possibility, as alienated urbanite Davy (Jamie Smith) receives letters from his horse-farm-running relatives. Reading these letters offers Davy brief moments of respite from drudgerous city spaces such as the subway and his cramped apartment. In its emphasis on the centrality of rural locations, my project is more similar to David Bell’s work on the rural in horror films than to Jonathan F. Bell’s work on the rural noir. David Bell analyses the way that contemporary horror films work against a “long tradition” of the “idyllic rural” in many Western texts (95). As opposed to works “from Henry David Thoreau and Walt Whitman to contemporary television shows like Northern Exposure and films such as A River Runs Through It or Grand Canyon” in which the rural is positioned as “a restorative to urban anomie,” David Bell analyses films such as Deliverance and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre that depict “a series of anti-idyllic visions of the rural” (95). Moonrise and They Live By Night, like these horror films, portray the crime and the country as coexistent spheres at the same time that the majority of other popular culture, including noirs like Killer’s Kiss or On Dangerous Ground, portray them as mutually exclusive.To use a mode of generic analysis developed by Rick Altman, the rural noir, while preserving the dominant syntax of other noirs, presents a remarkably different semantic element (31). Consider the following description of the genre, from the introduction to Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference Guide: “The darkness that fills the mirror of the past, which lurks in a dark corner or obscures a dark passage out of the oppressively dark city, is not merely the key adjective of so many film noir titles but the obvious metaphor for the condition of the protagonist’s mind” (Silver and Ward, 4). In this instance, the narrative elements, or syntax, of film noir outlined by Silver and Ward do not require revision, but the urban location, a semantic element, does. Moonrise and They Live By Night demonstrate the sustainability of the aforementioned syntactic elements— the dark, psychological experience of the leads and their inescapable criminal past— apart from the familiar semantic element of the city.The rural noir must also cause us to reconsider— beyond rural representations or film noir— more generally pitched genre theories. Consider the importance of place to film genre, the majority of which are defined by a typical setting: for melodramas, it is the family home, for Westerns, the American west, and for musicals, the stage. Thomas Schatz separates American genres according to their setting, between genres which deal with “determinate” versus “indeterminate” space:There is a vital distinction between kinds of generic settings and conflicts. Certain genres […] have conflicts that, indigenous to the environment, reflect the physical and ideological struggle for its control. […] Other genres have conflicts that are not indigenous to the locale but are the results of the conflict between the values, attitudes, and actions of its principal characters and the ‘civilised’ setting they inhabit. (26) Schatz discusses noirs, along with detective films, as films which trade in “determinate” settings, limited to the space of the city. The rural noir slips between Schatz’s dichotomy, moving past the space of the city, but not into the civilised, tame settings of the genres of “indeterminate spaces.” It is only fitting that a genre whose very definition lies in its disruption of Hollywood norms— trading high- for low-key lighting, effectual male protagonists for helpless ones, and a confident, coherent worldview for a more paranoid, unstable one would, finally, be able to accommodate a variation— the rural noir— that would seem to upset one of its central tenets, an urban locale. Considering the long list of Hollywood standards that film noirs violated, according to two of its original explicators, Raymond Borde and Etienne Chaumeton— “a logical action, an evident distinction between good and evil, well-defined characters with clear motives, scenes that are more spectacular than brutal, a heroine who is exquisitely feminine and a hero who is honest”— it should, perhaps, not be so surprising that the genre is flexible enough to accommodate the existence of the rural noir after all (14). AcknowledgmentsIn addition to M/C Journal's anonymous readers, the author would like to thank Corey Creekmur, Mike Slowik, Barbara Steinson, and Andrew Gorman-Murray for their helpful suggestions. ReferencesAltman, Rick. “A Semantic/Syntactic Approach to Film Genre.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 27-41.The Asphalt Jungle. Dir. John Huston. MGM/UA, 1950.Bell, David. “Anti-Idyll: Rural Horror.” Contested Countryside Cultures. Eds. Paul Cloke and Jo Little. London, Routledge, 1997. 94-108.Bell, Jonathan F. “Shadows in the Hinterland: Rural Noir.” Architecture and Film. Ed. Mark Lamster. New York: Princeton Architectural P, 2000. 217-230.Borde, Raymond and Etienne Chaumeton. A Panorama of American Film Noir. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2002.Christopher, Nicholas. Somewhere in the Night: Film Noir and the American City. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1997.Cowie, Elizabeth. “Film Noir and Women.” Shades of Noir. Ed. Joan Copjec. New York: Verso, 1993. 121-166.Dickos, Andrew. Street with No Name: A History of the Classic American Film Noir. Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 2002.Hirsch, Foster. Detours and Lost Highways: A Map of Neo-Noir. New York: Limelight Editions, 1999.Marx, Leo. The Machine in the Garden. New York: Oxford UP, 1964.McArthur, Colin. Underworld U.S.A. London: BFI, 1972.Moonrise. Dir. Frank Borzage. Republic, 1948.Morris, Gary. “Noir Country: Alien Nation.” Bright Lights Film Journal Nov. 2006. 13. Jun. 2008 http://www.brightlightsfilm.com/54/noircountry.htm Muller, Eddie. Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir. New York: St. Martin’s P, 1998.Naremore, James. More Than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts. Berkeley, C.A.: U of California P, 2008.Neale, Steve. “Questions of Genre.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 160-184.On Dangerous Ground. Dir. Nicholas Ray. RKO, 1951.Out of the Past. Dir. Jacques Tourneur. RKO, 1947.Place, Janey. “Women in Film Noir.” Women in Film Noir. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. London: BFI, 1999. 47-68.Schatz, Thomas. Hollywood Genres. New York: Random House, 1981.Schatz, Thomas. “The Structural Influence: New Directions in Film Genre Study.” Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. 92-102.Silver, Alain and Elizabeth Ward. Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference Guide. London: Bloomsbury, 1980.They Live by Night. Dir. Nicholas Ray. RKO, 1949.Thieves’ Highway. Dir. Jules Dassin. Fox, 1949.Williams, Raymond. The Country and the City. New York: Oxford UP, 1973.

Les matériaux polymères sont de plus en plus utilisés pour remplacer d’autres types de matériaux tels que la céramique ou le métal. Cependant, la majorité des polymères ont un désavantage : ils doivent être ignifugés. Néanmoins, grâce à la recherche dans le domaine des matériaux, des polymères haute performance qui résistent à la chaleur et aux scénarios feu ont été conçus. Malgré l’avantage technique qu’apportent ces matériaux, ils sont extrêmement chers. Le but de ce travail est de comprendre la réaction au feu des matériaux hautes performances afin de concevoir des retardateurs de flamme qui réagiraient comme ces polymères hautes performances quand ils sont soumis à des températures élevées ou dans un scénario feu. Dans cette optique, le comportement à haute température et la réaction au feu de trois matériaux hautes performances ont été étudiés : polyetheretherketone (PEEK), polyimide (PI), et polybenzoxazole (PBO). Les mécanismes de décomposition de ces matériaux ont été évalués à travers différentes méthodes analytique telles que le pyrolyseur GCMS et l’ATG-FTIR. La cinétique de décomposition de ces matériaux a aussi été évaluée en utilisant l’ATG dynamique sous différentes atmosphères (azote, 2% oxygène, et air). Cela nous a permis d’acquérir du recul par rapport aux comportements thermiques de ces matériaux hautes performances, que nous avons pu exploiter pour définir des nouveaux retardateurs de feu. Ainsi, une série de retardateurs de flamme ont été synthétisés. Ces retardateurs de flamme font partie de la famille de bases de Schiff et comprennent le salen et ses dérivées, ainsi que certains de leurs complexes métalliques. Le comportement thermique et réaction au feu de ses retardateurs de flamme ont été évalués dans deux polymères : le polyuréthane thermoplastique, et le polyamide 6. Bien qu’une partie de ces retardateurs de feu aient montré peu d’effet au feu, certains ont montré une amélioration importante en termes de chaleur dégagée. Cette nouvelle approche vers la conception de charges ignifugeantes est prometteuse et peut être utilisée comme une méthode complémentaire pour la conception de matériaux haute performance à bas cout
Polymeric materials have been increasingly used as replacement for other types of materials such as ceramics or metals. However, most polymers have a serious drawback: they need to be fire retarded. Nevertheless, thanks to advanced research in the field, high performance materials that resist high temperatures and fire scenarios have been developed. While these materials have extremely enviable properties, they are also very expensive. The aim of this PhD is to understand the fire behavior of high-performance polymers and design fire retardants that would mimic these high-performance materials under extreme heat or fire. To do so, the thermal and fire behavior of three high performance materials were studied: polyetheretherketone (PEEK), polyimide (PI), and polybenzoxazole (PBO). Their thermal decomposition pathways were evaluated thanks to high temperature analytical techniques like pyrolysis-GC/MS and TGA-FTIR. Model based kinetics of the thermal decomposition of these polymeric materials were also elucidated by using dynamic TGA under three different atmospheres (nitrogen, 2% oxygen, and air). These provided insight regarding the thermal behavior high performance polymers, which were used to conceptualize novel potential fire retardants. Therefore, a series of fire retardants that have demonstrated similar behaviors as high performance polymers in fire scenarios were synthesized. These fire retardants include a Schiff base: salen and its derivatives, as well as some of their metal complexes. The thermal behavior and fire performances of these fire retardants were evaluated in two polymeric materials using a relatively low loading (< 10 wt%): thermoplastic polyurethane, and polyamide 6. While some of the fire retardants had little effect, in terms of fire retardancy, some candidates showed a significant improvement in terms of peak of heat release rate. This reverse approach towards designing fire retardants has shown some promise and can be used as a complementary method for the design of high-performance materials at lower cost

Les matériaux polymères sont de plus en plus utilisés pour remplacer d’autres types de matériaux tels que la céramique ou le métal. Cependant, la majorité des polymères ont un désavantage : ils doivent être ignifugés. Néanmoins, grâce à la recherche dans le domaine des matériaux, des polymères haute performance qui résistent à la chaleur et aux scénarios feu ont été conçus. Malgré l’avantage technique qu’apportent ces matériaux, ils sont extrêmement chers. Le but de ce travail est de comprendre la réaction au feu des matériaux hautes performances afin de concevoir des retardateurs de flamme qui réagiraient comme ces polymères hautes performances quand ils sont soumis à des températures élevées ou dans un scénario feu. Dans cette optique, le comportement à haute température et la réaction au feu de trois matériaux hautes performances ont été étudiés : polyetheretherketone (PEEK), polyimide (PI), et polybenzoxazole (PBO). Les mécanismes de décomposition de ces matériaux ont été évalués à travers différentes méthodes analytique telles que le pyrolyseur GCMS et l’ATG-FTIR. La cinétique de décomposition de ces matériaux a aussi été évaluée en utilisant l’ATG dynamique sous différentes atmosphères (azote, 2% oxygène, et air). Cela nous a permis d’acquérir du recul par rapport aux comportements thermiques de ces matériaux hautes performances, que nous avons pu exploiter pour définir des nouveaux retardateurs de feu. Ainsi, une série de retardateurs de flamme ont été synthétisés. Ces retardateurs de flamme font partie de la famille de bases de Schiff et comprennent le salen et ses dérivées, ainsi que certains de leurs complexes métalliques. Le comportement thermique et réaction au feu de ses retardateurs de flamme ont été évalués dans deux polymères : le polyuréthane thermoplastique, et le polyamide 6. Bien qu’une partie de ces retardateurs de feu aient montré peu d’effet au feu, certains ont montré une amélioration importante en termes de chaleur dégagée. Cette nouvelle approche vers la conception de charges ignifugeantes est prometteuse et peut être utilisée comme une méthode complémentaire pour la conception de matériaux haute performance à bas cout
Polymeric materials have been increasingly used as replacement for other types of materials such as ceramics or metals. However, most polymers have a serious drawback: they need to be fire retarded. Nevertheless, thanks to advanced research in the field, high performance materials that resist high temperatures and fire scenarios have been developed. While these materials have extremely enviable properties, they are also very expensive. The aim of this PhD is to understand the fire behavior of high-performance polymers and design fire retardants that would mimic these high-performance materials under extreme heat or fire. To do so, the thermal and fire behavior of three high performance materials were studied: polyetheretherketone (PEEK), polyimide (PI), and polybenzoxazole (PBO). Their thermal decomposition pathways were evaluated thanks to high temperature analytical techniques like pyrolysis-GC/MS and TGA-FTIR. Model based kinetics of the thermal decomposition of these polymeric materials were also elucidated by using dynamic TGA under three different atmospheres (nitrogen, 2% oxygen, and air). These provided insight regarding the thermal behavior high performance polymers, which were used to conceptualize novel potential fire retardants. Therefore, a series of fire retardants that have demonstrated similar behaviors as high performance polymers in fire scenarios were synthesized. These fire retardants include a Schiff base: salen and its derivatives, as well as some of their metal complexes. The thermal behavior and fire performances of these fire retardants were evaluated in two polymeric materials using a relatively low loading (< 10 wt%): thermoplastic polyurethane, and polyamide 6. While some of the fire retardants had little effect, in terms of fire retardancy, some candidates showed a significant improvement in terms of peak of heat release rate. This reverse approach towards designing fire retardants has shown some promise and can be used as a complementary method for the design of high-performance materials at lower cost

Les incendies de locaux domestique ou industriel sont tres souvent attises par un vent ou un courant d'air. L'aspect devastateur est alors considerablement amplifie. Ce travail de recherche evalue l'influence d'un ecoulement force sur la structure de flamme d'un feu de nappe a surface horizontale. La combustion d'une large gamme de polymeres est partiellement simulee par l'injection d'un hydrocarbure gazeux au travers d'un bruleur poreux, plan thermostate, place au sein d'une soufflerie de section rectangulaire. La taille du dispositif experimental se situe entre l'echelle de laboratoire et la vraie grandeur, afin de permettre de stabiliser une flamme ayant les phenomenes physiques deja caracteristiques de ceux d'un incendie. Pour plusieurs valeurs des parametres principaux de l'experience (puissance calorifique du foyer, surface de pyrolyse simulee, vitesse de l'ecoulement force, geometrie du dispositif), la structure de l'ecoulement est identifiee dans et hors de la zone reactive. Pour cela, une technique originale de traitement d'images de l'emission spontanee de la flamme a ete developpee. Les grandeurs geometriques de la flamme visible ainsi determinees sont correlees aux parametres du test. Des modeles physiques simples inspires des etudes bibliographiques sont adaptes a la combustion en presence d'un vent traversier. L'observation et le traitement de l'information sur l'aspect de la flamme sont completes par une caracterisation de l'aerothermique de l'ecoulement. Les evolutions de temperature sur l'axe de la flamme sont extraites de la mesure des champs complets et reliees a la forme de flamme. La determination du champ aerodynamique a mis en evidence la modification de l'ecoulement en amont du bruleur par la combustion. Un ecoulement a contre courant est observe dans la partie haute de la conduite pour certaines conditions de fonctionnement. La mesure des flux de chaleur recus au sol en aval et sur le bruleur permet d'identifier le mode et l'intensite des transferts flamme-paroi. Les resultats de cette etude experimentale ameliorent la comprehension des phenomenes physiques dans une flamme de diffusion stabilisee sur une surface combustible. L'approche au moyen d'une simulation permet la caracterisation figee du developpement et de la propagation d'un feu. Cette etude constitue une etape fondamentale dans le developpement de modeles physiques et la validation de codes d'analyse et de surete

La compréhension des procédés d'ignifugation du PA6 basés sur l'emploi d'un retardateur de flamme (FR) phosphoré (OP1311) et/ou une argile organomodifiée (C30B) est l'objet de cette étude. En termes de propriétés feu, un effet de synergie est observé pour la formulation combinant les deux additifs. Les raisons de cet effet ont été étudiées et expliquées. La dispersion de l'argile étant nanométrique dans les composites avec et sans FR, l'explication de l'amélioration réside soit dans l'obtention de composés plus stables formés par réaction entre les constituants de la formulation, soit dans la résistance améliorée de la structure protectrice développée due à des interactions physiques. Pour mettre en évidence les éventuelles interactions chimiques, la dégradation thermique des additifs et des formulations a été étudiée. Aucune nouvelle espèce n'est formée lors de la dégradation thermique. Il n'y a donc pas de réaction chimique. Des interactions physiques doivent donc se produire et permettre cette amélioration du comportement du matériau sous flux de chaleur. L'évolution des structures qui se forment au cours de la dégradation des formulations sous flux de chaleur a été étudiée. Des mécanismes de protection ont été proposés pour expliquer l'effet de synergie.

Cette étude s’inscrit dans le cadre de l’évaluation du risque d’accélération de flamme en situation accidentelle. La méthodologie développée dans le cadre de l’évaluation du risque hydrogène dans l’industrie nucléaire a permis de proposer un critère permettant d’évaluer le risque d’accélération des flammes de prémélange hydrogène/air/diluants, sur la base des propriétés du mélange. L’objectif de cette étude est l’acquisition de données fondamentales relatives aux mélanges gaz naturel/air et gaz de synthèse/air puis l’extension de la méthodologie appliquée aux mélanges hydrogène/air à ces mélanges. Ainsi, trois mélanges gazeux ont été choisis et ont fait l’objet de cette étude. Il s’agit du G27 (82%CH4/18%N2), du G222 (77%CH4/23%H2), et du H2/CO (50%H2/50%CO). Au cours de ce travail les limites d’inflammabilités des mélanges ont été déterminées pour une température initiale de 300 K et une pression de 1 et 2 bars. Les vitesses fondamentales de flamme et les longueurs de Markstein ont été mesurées à différentes températures initiales (300, 330 et 360 K) et à deux pressions initiales (1 et 2 bar) pour chacun des mélanges. Une modélisation cinétique de la vitesse de flamme a été réalisée et a permis l’évaluation de l’énergie d’activation globale sur la base du modèle cinétique présentant le meilleur accord avec l’expérience. La propension des mélanges a s’accélérer fortement en présence d’obstacles a ensuite été caractérisée au cours de l’étude de l’accélération de flamme. Cette étude de l’accélération de flamme a permis de mettre en évidence que différents critères d’accélération s’appliquent selon que la flamme soit stable ou pas. Un critère permettant de prédire l’accélération de flamme a été proposée dans les deux cas
The context of the current study is the assessment of the occurrence of flame acceleration in accidental situations. The methodology developed for the assessment of hydrogen hazard in the nuclear industry led to the definition of a criterion for the prediction of the acceleration potential of a hydrogen/air/dilutant mixture based on its properties. This study aims to extend this methodology to gaseous mixtures that can be encountered in the classical industry. Therefore, three mixtures were chosen: the first two are representatives of a natural gas/air mixture: G27 (82%CH4/18%N2) and G222 (77%CH4/23%H2). The third one is a H2/CO (50%H2/50%CO) mixture and represents the Syngas. During this work, flammability limits were measured at 300 K and two initial pressures (1 and 2 bar) for each mixture. Fundamental flame speeds and Markstein lengths were also measured at three initial temperatures (300, 330, 360 K) and 2 initial pressures (1 and 2 bar) for each mixtures. A kinetic modeling was performed based on three detailed kinetic models and allowed the calculation of the global activation energy on the basis of the kinetic model which showed the best agreement with the experimental data. The acceleration potential for each mixture in presence of obstacles has then been investigated. It was found that different criteria were to be applied depending on whether the flame is stable or not. A predicting criterion was proposed in both case

Cette étude s'intéresse à différents procédés d'ignifugation de non-tissés de polypropylène. Ces procédés sont basés sur le traitement en masse (extrusion) ou les traitements de surface (enduction d'envers et imprégnation). Les systèmes d'ignifugation utilisés sont les systèmes intumescents et/ou agissant en phase gaz : polyphosphate d'ammonium (APP) et mélamine. L'évaluation des propriétés FR des différents échantillons prouve l'intérêt de l'ajout de ces additifs FR selon les différents procédés. Les systèmes intumescents permettent d'avoir des propriétés FR optimales. L'étude du mécanisme de dégradation/combustion met en évidence qu'une structure phosphocarbonée alvéolaire se développe à la surface des produits durant la combustion et protège le matériau sous-jacent. L'extrusion permet d'obtenir une protection durable, tandis que l'imprégnation forme sa protection le plus rapidement. De plus, il est montré que seule l'enduction d'envers ne modifie pas les propriétés mécaniques.

L'etude porte sur la thermohydraulique et le rayonnement de flammes caracteristiques de differentes situations reelles d'incendies de type industriel. Un feu de nappe de produits industriels est simule par la combustion d'un melange gazeux hydrocarbure/additif inerte. La structure et l'impact radiatif de la flamme sur l'environnement sont evalues en fonction de la puissance du foyer et du confinement. Une technique de mesure experimentale originale, basee sur un traitement digitalise de l'image de l'emission spontanee de la flamme, a ete mis au point. Elle permet une estimation de l'evolution de la temperature le long de l'axe median de la zone reactive. L'incendie provoque par le dysfonctionnement d'un tableau electrique situe a hauteur d'homme sur un mur d'un local industriel est etudie dans la configuration simplifiee de simulation d'un feu de paroi verticale empietant sur un plafond (injection de combustible gazeux au travers d'un metal poreux). Des mesures de vitesse par velocimetrie doppler laser, de temperature par thermocouples fins, de flux de chaleur transmis aux parois, et de longueurs de flamme visible, sont obtenues. L'ensemble des resultats experimentaux permet de creer une base de donnees utile a l'ingenieur, pour mieux comprendre les phenomenes susceptibles de se produire lors d'un incendie, et au modelisateur de valider les modeles physiques et numeriques employes afin de developper des outils d'analyse de surete d'installations et ainsi limiter les risques a l'environnement

L'objectif de ce travail est la mise au point de polymères ignifugés qui présentent une bonne stabilité lorsqu'ils sont soumis aux contraintes de leur environnement d'usage en conditions extérieures, c'est-à-dire en premier lieu lorsqu'ils sont soumis à l'action de la lumière solaire. Si à l'heure actuelle, l'on peut proposer, d'une part des additifs de stabilisation contre le vieillissement climatique, et d'autre part des agents d'ignifugation efficaces, l'expérience montre, au moins dans le cas du polypropylène contenant des ignifugeants bromés, des antagonismes avec les systèmes de photostabilisation classiquement utilisés. On voit alors clairement l'attention que l'on doit porter à l'association ignifugeant-stabilisant pour être en mesure de développer des polymères ignifugés durables. Ce travail de thèse a permis d'une part de comprendre et d'optimiser le comportement photochimique de matrices polypropylènes ignifugées par des retardateurs de flamme non halogénés, et d'autre part de relier la dégradation des propriétés d'usage du matériau avec les modifications de la structure chimique du polymère. Trois systèmes différents ont été étudiés : -polypropylène, -polypropylène ignifugé par un retardateur de flamme non halogéné (l'Exolit AP 765), -systèmes ternaires polypropylène/ ignifugeant / nanocharges de type montmorillonite ou sépiolite. Nos travaux ont montré qu'il n'existait pas d'antagonisme entre les différents additifs de stabilisation et l'agent d'ignifugation non halogéné. Nous avons également montré que l'ignifugeant n'avait pas d'effet inducteur sur l'oxydation du polymère. Nous avons ensuite corrélé les modifications de structure chimique du polymère avec les variations des propriétés fonctionnelles (propriétés mécaniques et comportement au feu) du polymère sous l'impact du photovieillissement. Enfin, l'étude des systèmes ternaires a permis de caractériser l'influence des nanocharges sur les propriétés mécaniques et le comportement au feu du matériau, et d'en étudier le comportement photochimique à l'échelle moléculaire

Les enduits textiles polyuréthane (PU), présents dans de nombreux secteurs industriels, ont deux inconvénients. D'une part, leur mise en oeuvre est rendue délicate par la présence de fonctions isocyanates toxiques et très réactives. D'autre part, les procédés d'ignifugation utilisés pour les enduits PU ne sont pas totalement satisfaisants. Notamment les sels de phosphate d'ammonium, qui sont des additifs "retard au feu" (FR) non toxiques développant avec les PU un système intumescent, ont le défaut de migrer à travers les matrices polymère et d'ètre solubles dans l'eau. Nous avons développé deux solutions innovantes, basées sur le concept de la microencapsulation. La dispersion dans un polyol de microcapsules renfermant un diisocyanate liquide peut aboutir à une formulation PU monocomposant d'utilisation simple et sans danger. Les contraintes thermomécaniques des machines d'enduction permettent de libérer le diisocyanate au dernier moment
L'incorporation dans une formulation PU de phosphate d'ammonium encapsulé avec une membrane imperméable peut donner un caractère FR permanent à l'enduit. Cette étude est consacrée à la mise au point de procédés de microencapsulation, principalement selon la technique par polymérisation interfaciale, pour l'isophorone diisocyanate (IPDI) et pour le diammonuim hydrogénophosphate (DAHP). Différents paramètres expérimentaux ont étés maitrisés afin de donner aux deux types de microcapsules les caractéristiques déterminantes pou leur application : contrôle de leur taille, de leurs propriétés thermomécaniques et de la perméabilité de leur membrane. Après l'étude de la réactivité d'un mélánge microcapsules d'IPDI - polyol, nous sommes parvenus à synthétiser un PU solide avec une température de réaction peu élevée (80°C). Les microcapsules de DAHP donnent aux enduits PU appliqués sur tissu coton un réel effet retardateur de flamme, même si le char développé avec les microcapsules résiste un peu moins bien à la chaleur que celui avec le DAHP pur

Eugène-Melchior de Vogüé is widely known as a critic and cultural ambassador who, with the publication of his essays on Russian literature in Le roman russe (1886), popularized the works of Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Gorky, fanning the flames of the epoch’s “Russian fever.” In this chapter I emphasize de Vogüé’s work as a translator and translation theorist. His essays on translation, which appear in his longer critiques as well as in his reviews of and prefaces to translated Russian works, unearth a paradox: the very quality he eulogized in Russian novels—the language of moral suffering—he judged impossible to translate. The second half of the chapter explores how de Vogüé resolves to foster understanding for characters whose moral or spiritual constitution defies translation. In his own translations, which include all the quotations in Le Roman russe and a short story by Tolstoy, de Vogüé endeavours to cultivate compassion for characters (and authors) who are, at times, too foreign to pity. Ultimately, I argue that de Vogüé’s project (to restore the spiritual life of the French literary tradition) was accomplished not through his literary criticism but through his translations.

These years saw increasing commercial pressure and acute personal setback. The General Strike and the extended miners’ stoppage of 1926 caused severe hardship in the industry, but Moorcroft’s resilience and resourcefulness saw him through once again. Ledgers show his decline in turnover and rising costs, but they also reveal his success, unlike the majority of potteries, in avoiding both short-time and pay cuts. In 1926, too, he suffered the devastating loss of his wife, a crucial figure of support and advice. For all these challenges, the period was characterised by renewed and often radical creativity. Moorcroft continued to experiment with designs and glazes, attracting particular critical attention for his flambé wares, described in one review as ‘poems in colour’. But just as significantly, the press continued to note the accessibility of his ware, affordable and functional as well as artistic. This is particularly significant when pottery was dividing between popular commercial production, epitomised by the designs of Clarice Cliff, and the more exclusive world of studio ceramics. Leach’s essay ‘A Potter’s Outlook’ (1928) sought to bridge that gap, arguing for the social responsibility of the craft potter; Moorcroft, in his own distinctive way, was achieving that ambition already. The chapter examines, too, two major acknowledgements of Moorcroft’s status and achievement. In 1928, he was awarded the Royal Warrant by Queen Mary, a mark both of the quality of his ware and of its national value. In the same year, he renegotiated his contract with Liberty’s, and, crucially, his relationship with the firm which bore his name. Ownership of his designs was assigned to him, not to the firm (as was the case in the 1913 contract), underlining their recognition of his inalienable individuality as a potter.

This chapter focuses on Ibn 'Ezra's Ḥokhmat ha-Nefesh. Conflicting reports are to be found in the Ḥokhmat ha-Nefesh as to the origin of the soul. At times it is described as originating from the holy spirit via a process of inbreathing. On other occasions it is said to have been lit from the flames of the Kavod or of the heavenly throne. Other passages speak vaguely of its having been created from the place of the heavenly spirit. Whether any of these processes, or all of them, are genuine acts of creation or only emanations cannot be determined from the text. A prominent place in the Ḥokhmat ha-Nefesh is occupied by demuyot, mirror-images of man fashioned at the beginning of Creation and which stand in endless array before the Kavod, drawing their sustenance from the absorption of the heavenly light that streams forth from the Kavod, and in turn transferring this vitality to their earthly counterparts. The demut is a counter-shape and plays no role in the religious experience of Ḥasidei Ashkenaz.

Abstract The recent history of moral philosophy has been the history of the impact upon it of that philosophical movement which is usually referred to loosely as Logical Empiricism or Logical Positivism. From the point of view of moral philosophy the most challenging thing the Logical Empiricists did was this: they directed their attention to a certain type of language, namely to those sentences which express ‘scientific propositions’ and other statements of fact, in the narrow sense; and they examined the conditions under which we are prepared to allow that such sentences are meaningful. They claimed that the criterion which we employ is this: to know the meaning of such a sentence is to know what would have to be the case for the statement which it expresses to be called true, or false. There are various ways of formulating this criterion; but I will not here discuss their relative merits, nor whether the criterion can be formulated in a satisfactory way. It is enough to say that this criterion, when it was first propounded, aroused much enthusiasm among empiricist philosophers. For here, they thought, was a way of eliminating from the pages of philosophy, once for all, those sentences (of which there are, it must be confessed, too many) that do not carry any weight of meaning. Philosophical books, it was said, are full of statements or so-called statements to which, when we examine them in the light of this criterion, we cannot assign any significance at all; we cannot think what would have to be the case for us to call them true, or false. Such books the empiricists, following Hume’s prescription ( 1748, sect. 12, pt. 3), were prepared to commit to the flames as containing nothing but sophistry and illusion.

Abstract This essay opens in the smoke of a fire, “in a village in La Mancha,” in the early years of the seventeenth century. The scene is a familiar one: a “public trial” presided over by a priest, a barber, a housekeeper, and a girl in her teens, this last, the niece of Alonso Quijano, who dubs her uncle’s books “heretics” and opens his library to the “amusing and exhaustive scrutiny” that will be its undoing. On that very day, as Don Quijote’s books are consumed by flames, another fire is burning, in another village in La Mancha, or perhaps Toledo, Cuenca, or Seville. The smoke that fills the air of this second fire does not carry the distinctive smell of burning books, however, of words and thoughts ablaze, but the equally distinctive smell of burning flesh.

I came to Penland to write. The craft s were dear to me; first textiles, especially bobbin lace, which my wife made and collected, and taught me to look at. Then the Japanese ceramics to which Kenichi Fukui and Fred Baekeland introduced me. Followed by the protochemistry of dyeing with indigo from snail and plant sources, to me still the ideal bridge between science and culture. The tribute is to be seen around my house—my children’s inheritance consumed as much by crafts as “high” art. So it was easy to accept an invitation to come to Penland and write. Who knew what would come—I wanted to write poems, perhaps an essay. For the poems I’ve needed nature—not so much to write about as to shake me loose from the everyday worries of the (exciting) daily life I had in Ithaca. Nature was a path to concentration; I expected to find a different nature in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I would watch the crafts process. Maybe someone would even let me try something. Or ask me to tell them of the chemistry of their craft. I, in turn, would craft my poems out of the green hills. But this is not what happened; here’s what happened: I walk into Billie Ruth Sudduth’s basketry class, and there’s the whole group dyeing their canes, steaming pots of synthetic dye. I ask someone what they are doing, and she says, “Well, I’m getting ready for the upsetting,” and then seeing the puzzled look on my face, patiently explains this old, wonderfully direct basketry term for bending the canes forming the base of a basket over themselves, so that they stand up. I walk uphill to the iron shop, clearly more of a macho place, watch an intense young man, lawyer become sculptor as it turns out, hammer out a hand on a swage block. Ben tells me that it’s possible to burn away the carbon in the steel, and the iron would “burn” too, oxidize, in too hot a flame.

Introdução: O controle populacional feito de forma natural pode ser aplicado em vários contextos, em ambientes degradados, urbanos e como controle de pragas no meio agrícola, a técnica de controle biológico tem o objetivo reduzir a população de espécies que causam prejuízo ao meio ambiente e a outras espécies. Objetivo: apresentar a diversidade de controles biológicos no ambiente rural e urbano. Material e métodos: revisão bibliográfica crítica-informativa, com estudos recentes sobre o controle biológico abordando de forma geral e posteriormente a aplicação mais específica com técnicas que envolve microrganismo, relações ecológicas de predação, parasitoide, e controle genético. Os artigos foram pesquisados nos bancos de dados: Periódicos Capes, Web Science, Scorpus. Resultados: o controle biológico por predação bem-sucedido foi realizado com o uso das larvas pelas espécies de camarões das espécies M. pantanalense, M. amazonicum, M. brasiliense e M. Jelskii para o controle das atividades predatórias em todos os estágios larvais, pupa e fase adulta, das espécies Anopheles darlingi, Aedes aegypti e Culex quinquefasciatus, são mosquitos vetores de doenças como malária, dengue, vírus Zica, febre amarela, Chikungunya. Os microrganismos foram utilizados no controle da população mosquitos vetores de doenças na forma de biolarvicidas, as espécies de Lysinibacillus sphaericus (Lsp) e Bacillus thuringiensis, têm sido aplicados em criadouros de Culex quinquefasciatus e Aedes aegypti para controlar esses vetores que transmitem a filariose. Uma nova espécie vespa Diolcogaster flammeus sp. apresentou comportamento eficiente como inimigo natural, parasitando 90% das pragas da lagarta A. minuta. O controle genético associado ao Inseto Estéril e Insetos Incompatível foi utilizada com sucesso para o controle Anastrepha ludens, espécie de interesse econômico na área da fruticultura. A propagação de doenças em áreas urbanas e no meio rural, o controle biológico surge como alternativa para a resolução destes problemas. Conclusão: na maioria dos artigos os pesquisadores destacaram novas caminhos de lidar com seres que exercem o papel como vetores de doenças, praga na área da agricultura, de forma mais ecológica e menos agressiva com o meio ambiente. São métodos com baixa ou nenhuma toxicidade, e apresentam especificidade.