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Journal articles on the topic "Picture-books=2010-02-14"

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Rahardjo, Maria Melita. "How to use Loose-Parts in STEAM? Early Childhood Educators Focus Group discussion in Indonesia." JPUD - Jurnal Pendidikan Usia Dini 13, no. 2 (December 1, 2019): 310–26. http://dx.doi.org/10.21009/jpud.132.08.

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In recent years, STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Art, and Mathematics) has received wide attention. STEAM complements early childhood learning needs in honing 2nd century skills. This study aims to introduce a loose section in early childhood learning to pre-service teachers and then to explore their perceptions of how to use loose parts in supporting STEAM. The study design uses qualitative phenomenological methods. FGDs (Focus Group Discussions) are used as data collection instruments. The findings point to two main themes that emerged from the discussion: a loose section that supports freedom of creation and problem solving. Freedom clearly supports science, mathematics and arts education while problem solving significantly supports engineering and technology education. Keywords: Early Childhood Educators, Loose-part, STEAM References: Allen, A. (2016). Don’t Fear STEM: You Already Teach It! Exchange, (231), 56–59. Ansberry, B. K., & Morgan, E. (2019). Seven Myths of STEM. 56(6), 64–67. Bagiati, A., & Evangelou, D. (2015). Engineering curriculum in the preschool classroom: the teacher’s experience. European Early Childhood Education Research Journal, 23(1), 112–128. https://doi.org/10.1080/1350293X.2014.991099 Becker, K., & Park, K. (2011). Effects of integrative approaches among science , technology , engineering , and mathematics ( STEM ) subjects on students ’ learning : A preliminary meta-analysis. 12(5), 23–38. Berk, L. E. (2009). Child Development (8th ed.). Boston: Pearson Education. Can, B., Yildiz-Demirtas, V., & Altun, E. (2017). The Effect of Project-based Science Education Programme on Scientific Process Skills and Conception of Kindergargen Students. 16(3), 395–413. Casey, T., Robertson, J., Abel, J., Cairns, M., Caldwell, L., Campbell, K., … Robertson, T. (2016). Loose Parts Play. Edinburgh. Cheung, R. H. P. (2017). Teacher-directed versus child-centred : the challenge of promoting creativity in Chinese preschool classrooms. Pedagogy, Culture & Society, 1366(January), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/14681366.2016.1217253 Clements, D. H., & Sarama, J. (2016). Math, Science, and Technology in the Early Grades. The Future of Children, 26(2), 75–94. Cloward Drown, K. (2014). Dramatic lay affordances of natural and manufactured outdoor settings for preschoolaged children. Dejarnette, N. K. (2018). Early Childhood Steam: Reflections From a Year of Steam Initiatives Implemented in a High-Needs Primary School. Education, 139(2), 96–112. DiGironimo, N. (2011). What is technology? Investigating student conceptions about the nature of technology. International Journal of Science Education, 33(10), 1337–1352. https://doi.org/10.1080/09500693.2010.495400 Dugger, W. E., & Naik, N. (2001). Clarifying Misconceptions between Technology Education and Educational Technology. The Technology Teacher, 61(1), 31–35. Eeuwijk, P. Van, & Zuzana, A. (2017). How to Conduct a Focus Group Discussion ( FGD ) Methodological Manual. Flannigan, C., & Dietze, B. (2018). Children, Outdoor Play, and Loose Parts. Journal of Childhood Studies, 42(4), 53–60. https://doi.org/10.18357/jcs.v42i4.18103 Fleer, M. (1998). The Preparation of Australian Teachers in Technology Education : Developing The Preparation of Australian Teachers in Technology Education : Developing Professionals Not Technicians. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education & Development, 1(2), 25–31. Freitas, H., Oliveira, M., Jenkins, M., & Popjoy, O. (1998). The focus group, a qualitative research method: Reviewing the theory, and providing guidelines to its planning. In ISRC, Merrick School of Business, University of Baltimore (MD, EUA)(Vol. 1). Gomes, J., & Fleer, M. (2019). The Development of a Scientific Motive : How Preschool Science and Home Play Reciprocally Contribute to Science Learning. Research in Science Education, 49(2), 613–634. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11165-017-9631-5 Goris, T., & Dyrenfurth, M. (n.d.). Students ’ Misconceptions in Science , Technology , and Engineering . Gull, C., Bogunovich, J., Goldstein, S. L., & Rosengarten, T. (2019). Definitions of Loose Parts in Early Childhood Outdoor Classrooms: A Scoping Review. The International Journal of Early Childhood Environmental Education, 6(3), 37. Hui, A. N. N., He, M. W. J., & Ye, S. S. (2015). Arts education and creativity enhancement in young children in Hong Kong. Educational Psychology, 35(3), 315–327. https://doi.org/10.1080/01443410.2013.875518 Jarvis, T., & Rennie, L. J. (1996). Perceptions about Technology Held by Primary Teachers in England. Research in Science & Technological Education, 14(1), 43–54. https://doi.org/10.1080/0263514960140104 Jeffers, O. (2004). How to Catch a Star. New York: Philomel Books. Kiewra, C., & Veselack, E. (2016). Playing with nature: Supporting preschoolers’ creativity in natural outdoor classrooms. International Journal of Early Childhood Environmental Education, 4(1), 70–95. Kuh, L., Ponte, I., & Chau, C. (2013). The impact of a natural playscape installation on young children’s play behaviors. Children, Youth and Environments, 23(2), 49–77. Lachapelle, C. P., Cunningham, C. M., & Oh, Y. (2019). What is technology? Development and evaluation of a simple instrument for measuring children’s conceptions of technology. International Journal of Science Education, 41(2), 188–209. https://doi.org/10.1080/09500693.2018.1545101 Liamputtong. (2010). Focus Group Methodology : Introduction and History. In Focus Group MethodoloGy (pp. 1–14). Liao, C. (2016). From Interdisciplinary to Transdisciplinary: An Arts-Integrated Approach to STEAM Education. 69(6), 44–49. https://doi.org/10.1080/00043125.2016.1224873 Lindeman, K. W., & Anderson, E. M. (2015). Using Blocks to Develop 21st Century Skills. Young Children, 70(1), 36–43. Maxwell, L., Mitchell, M., and Evans, G. (2008). Effects of play equipment and loose parts on preschool children’s outdoor play behavior: An observational study and design intervention. Children, Youth and Environments, 18(2), 36–63. McClure, E., Guernsey, L., Clements, D., Bales, S., Nichols, J., Kendall-Taylor, N., & Levine, M. (2017). How to Integrate STEM Into Early Childhood Education. Science and Children, 055(02), 8–11. https://doi.org/10.2505/4/sc17_055_02_8 McClure, M., Tarr, P., Thompson, C. M., & Eckhoff, A. (2017). Defining quality in visual art education for young children: Building on the position statement of the early childhood art educators. Arts Education Policy Review, 118(3), 154–163. https://doi.org/10.1080/10632913.2016.1245167 Mishra, L. (2016). Focus Group Discussion in Qualitative Research. TechnoLearn: An International Journal of Educational Technology, 6(1), 1. https://doi.org/10.5958/2249-5223.2016.00001.2 Monhardt, L., & Monhardt, R. (2006). Creating a context for the learning of science process skills through picture books. Early Childhood Education Journal, 34(1), 67–71. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10643-006-0108-9 Monsalvatge, L., Long, K., & DiBello, L. (2013). Turning our world of learning inside out! Dimensions of Early Childhood, 41(3), 23–30. Moomaw, S. (2012). STEM begins in the early years. School Science & Mathematics, 112(2), 57–58. Moomaw, S. (2016). Move Back the Clock, Educators: STEM Begins at Birth. School Science & Mathematics, 116(5), 237–238. Moomaw, S., & Davis, J. A. (2010). STEM Comes to Preschool. Young Cihildren, 12–18(September), 12–18. Munawar, M., Roshayanti, F., & Sugiyanti. (2019). Implementation of STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Art, Mathematics)-Based Early Childhood Education Learning in Semarang City. Jurnal CERIA, 2(5), 276–285. National Research Council. (1996). National Science Education Standards. Washington, DC: National Academy of Sciences. Nicholson, S. (1972). The Theory of Loose Parts: An important principle for design methodology. Studies in Design Education Craft & Technology, 4(2), 5–12. O.Nyumba, T., Wilson, K., Derrick, C. J., & Mukherjee, N. (2018). The use of focus group discussion methodology: Insights from two decades of application in conservation. Methods in Ecology and Evolution, 9(1), 20–32. https://doi.org/10.1111/2041-210X.12860 Padilla-Diaz, M. (2015). Phenomenology in Educational Qualitative Research : Philosophy as Science or Philosophical Science ? International Journal of Educational Excellence, 1(2), 101–110. Padilla, M. J. (1990). The Science Process Skills. Research Matters - to the Science Teacher, 1(March), 1–3. Park, D. Y., Park, M. H., & Bates, A. B. (2018). Exploring Young Children’s Understanding About the Concept of Volume Through Engineering Design in a STEM Activity: A Case Study. International Journal of Science and Mathematics Education, 16(2), 275–294. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10763-016-9776-0 Rahardjo, M. M. (2019). Implementasi Pendekatan Saintifik Sebagai Pembentuk Keterampilan Proses Sains Anak Usia Dini. Scholaria: Jurnal Pendidikan Dan Kebudayaan, 9(2), 148–159. https://doi.org/10.24246/j.js.2019.v9.i2.p148-159 Robison, T. (2016). Male Elementary General Music Teachers : A Phenomenological Study. Journal of Music Teacher Education, 26(2), 77–89. https://doi.org/10.1177/1057083715622019 Rocha Fernandes, G. W., Rodrigues, A. M., & Ferreira, C. A. (2018). Conceptions of the Nature of Science and Technology: a Study with Children and Youths in a Non-Formal Science and Technology Education Setting. Research in Science Education, 48(5), 1071–1106. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11165-016-9599-6 Sawyer, R. K. (2006). Educating for innovation. 1(2006), 41–48. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tsc.2005.08.001 Sharapan, H. (2012). ERIC - From STEM to STEAM: How Early Childhood Educators Can Apply Fred Rogers’ Approach, Young Children, 2012-Jan. Young Children, 67(1), 36–40. Siantayani, Y. (2018). STEAM: Science-Technology-Engineering-Art-Mathematics. Semarang: SINAU Teachers Development Center. Sikder, S., & Fleer, M. (2015). Small Science : Infants and Toddlers Experiencing Science in Everyday Family Life. Research in Science Education, 45(3), 445–464. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11165-014-9431-0 Smith-gilman, S. (2018). The Arts, Loose Parts and Conversations. Journal of the Canadian Association for Curriculum Studies, 16(1), 90–103. Sohn, B. K., Thomas, S. P., Greenberg, K. H., & Pollio, H. R. (2017). Hearing the Voices of Students and Teachers : A Phenomenological Approach to Educational Research. Qualitative Research in Education, 6(2), 121–148. https://doi.org/10.17583/qre.2017.2374 Strong-wilson, T., & Ellis, J. (2002). Children and Place : Reggio Emilia’s Environment as Third Teacher. Theory into Practice, 46(1), 40–47. Sutton, M. J. (2011). In the hand and mind: The intersection of loose parts and imagination in evocative settings for young children. Children, Youth and Environments, 21(2), 408–424. Tippett, C. D., & Milford, T. M. (2017). Findings from a Pre-kindergarten Classroom: Making the Case for STEM in Early Childhood Education. International Journal of Science and Mathematics Education, 15, 67–86. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10763-017-9812-8 Tippett, C., & Milford, T. (2017). STEM Resources and Materials for Engaging Learning Experiences. International Journal of Science & Mathematics Education, 15(March), 67–86. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10763-017-9812-8 Veselack, E., Miller, D., & Cain-Chang, L. (2015). Raindrops on noses and toes in the dirt: infants and toddlers in the outdoor classroom. Dimensions Educational Research Foundation. Yuksel-Arslan, P., Yildirim, S., & Robin, B. R. (2016). A phenomenological study : teachers ’ experiences of using digital storytelling in early childhood education. Educational Studies, 42(5), 427–445. https://doi.org/10.1080/03055698.2016.1195717
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Yulsyofriend, Mafardi, Tia Novela, Vivi Anggraini, and Adi Priyanto. "Stimulating Children's Numerical Literacy: The Effectiveness of Singing Favorite Food Songs." JPUD - Jurnal Pendidikan Usia Dini 17, no. 1 (April 30, 2023): 144–54. http://dx.doi.org/10.21009/jpud.171.11.

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Numerical literacy is the ability needed to use number ideas and arithmetic skills in everyday situations as well as the ability to analyze quantitative data around children. This study aims to determine the effect of the intervention of singing favorite food songs on children's numerical literacy. Using a pretest-posttest experimental design with a control group, this study involved 20 children as research objects, consisting of 10 experimental class children and 10 control class children. The results of the study showed that singing activities with the theme of favorite food influenced the numerical literacy of kindergarten children. This singing activity attracts children's interest, thus showing a significant difference between the experimental class and the control class. Therefore, for further research, it is suggested that early childhood educators can always take advantage of artistic activities such as singing to attract children's interest in any learning. Keywords: early childhood, numerical literacy, singing activities References: Anvari, S. H., Trainor, L. J., Woodside, J., & Levy, B. A. (2002). Relations among musical skills, phonological processing, and early reading ability in preschool children. Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 83(2), 111–130. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0022-0965(02)00124-8 Barrett, M. S. (2006). Inventing songs, inventing worlds: The ‘genesis’ of creative thought and activity in young children’s lives. International Journal of Early Years Education, 14(3), 201–220. https://doi.org/10.1080/09669760600879920 Batchelor, S., Keeble, S., & Gilmore, C. (2015). Magnitude Representations and Counting Skills in Preschool Children. Mathematical Thinking and Learning, 17(2–3), 116–135. https://doi.org/10.1080/10986065.2015.1016811 Dixon-Krauss, L., Januszka, C. M., & Chae, C.-H. (2010). Development of the Dialogic Reading Inventory of Parent-Child Book Reading. Journal of Research in Childhood Education, 24(3), 266–277. https://doi.org/10.1080/02568543.2010.487412 Duncan, G. J., Dowsett, C. J., Claessens, A., Magnuson, K., Huston, A. C., Klebanov, P., Pagani, L. S., Feinstein, L., Engel, M., Brooks-Gunn, J., Sexton, H., Duckworth, K., & Japel, C. (2007). School readiness and later achievement. Developmental Psychology, 43(6), 1428–1446. https://doi.org/10.1037/0012-1649.43.6.1428 Goldstein, H. (2011). Knowing What to Teach Provides a Roadmap for Early Literacy Intervention. Journal of Early Intervention, 33(4), 268–280. https://doi.org/10.1177/1053815111429464 Haimson, J., Swain, D., & Winner, E. (2011). Do Mathematicians Have Above Average Musical Skill? Music Perception, 29(2), 203–213. https://doi.org/10.1525/mp.2011.29.2.203 Harrison, C. S. (1996). Relationships between Grades in Music Theory for Nonmusic Majors and Selected Background Variables. Journal of Research in Music Education, 44(4), 341–352. https://doi.org/10.2307/3345446 Helmrich, B. H. (2010). Window of Opportunity? Adolescence, Music, and Algebra. Journal of Adolescent Research, 25(4), 557–577. https://doi.org/10.1177/0743558410366594 Howse, R. B., Lange, G., Farran, D. C., & Boyles, C. D. (2003). Motivation and Self-Regulation as Predictors of Achievement in Economically Disadvantaged Young Children. The Journal of Experimental Education, 71(2), 151–174. https://doi.org/10.1080/00220970309602061 Jones, M. R., & Bergee, M. (2008). Elements Associated with Success in the First-Year Music Theory and Aural-Skills Curriculum. Journal of Music Theory Pedagogy, 22. Kleemans, T., Peeters, M., Segers, E., & Verhoeven, L. (2012). Child and home predictors of early numeracy skills in kindergarten. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 27(3), 471–477. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2011.12.004 Lessard, A., & Bolduc, J. (2011). Links between Musical Learning and Reading for First to Third Grade Students: A Literature Review. International Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 1(7). Lyons, I. M., & Ansari, D. (2015). Numerical Order Processing in Children: From Reversing the Distance-Effect to Predicting Arithmetic. Mind, Brain, and Education, 9(4), 207–221. https://doi.org/10.1111/mbe.12094 Lyons, I. M., Price, G. R., Vaessen, A., Blomert, L., & Ansari, D. (2014). Numerical predictors of arithmetic success in grades 1–6. Developmental Science, 17(5), 714–726. https://doi.org/10.1111/desc.12152 Manolitsis, G., Georgiou, G. K., & Tziraki, N. (2013). Examining the effects of home literacy and numeracy environment on early reading and math acquisition. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 28(4), 692–703. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2013.05.004 Mehr, S. A., Schachner, A., Katz, R. C., & Spelke, E. S. (2013). Two Randomized Trials Provide No Consistent Evidence for Nonmusical Cognitive Benefits of Brief Preschool Music Enrichment. PLoS ONE, 8(12), e82007. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0082007 Mol, S. E., & Neuman, S. B. (2014). Sharing information books with kindergartners: The role of parents’ extra-textual talk and socioeconomic status. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 29(4), 399–410. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2014.04.001 Mundy, E., & Gilmore, C. K. (2009). Children’s mapping between symbolic and nonsymbolic representations of number. Special Issue: Typical Development of Numerical Cognition, 103(4), 490–502. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2009.02.003 Neuman, S. B., Kaefer, T., & Pinkham, A. M. (2018). A Double Dose of Disadvantage: Language Experiences for Low-Income Children in Home and School. Journal of Educational Psychology, 110(1), 102–118. https://doi.org/10.1037/edu0000201 Pekrun, R. (2006). The Control-Value Theory of Achievement Emotions: Assumptions, Corollaries, and Implications for Educational Research and Practice. Educational Psychology Review, 18(4), 315–341. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10648-006-9029-9 Peng, P., Namkung, J., Barnes, M., & Sun, C. (2016). A meta-analysis of mathematics and working memory: Moderating effects of working memory domain, type of mathematics skill, and sample characteristics. Journal of Educational Psychology, 108(4), 455–473. https://doi.org/10.1037/edu0000079 Protzko, J. (2017). Raising IQ among school-aged children: Five meta-analyses and a review of randomized controlled trials. Developmental Review, 46, 81–101. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.dr.2017.05.001 Purpura, D. J., Hume, L. E., Sims, D. M., & Lonigan, C. J. (2011). Early literacy and early numeracy: The value of including early literacy skills in the prediction of numeracy development. Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 110(4), 647–658. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2011.07.004 Rauscher, F., Shaw, G., Levine, L., Wright, E., Dennis, W., & Newcomb, R. (1997). Music training causes long-term enhancement of preschool children’s spatial–temporal reasoning. Neurological Research, 19(1), 2–8. https://doi.org/10.1080/01616412.1997.11740765 Rohwer, D. (2012). Predicting Undergraduate Music Education Majors’ Collegiate Achievement. Texas Music Education Research. Santos-Luiz, C. dos. (2007). The learning of music as a means to improve mathematical skills. Sarnecka, B. W., & Wright, C. E. (2013). The Idea of an Exact Number: Children’s Understanding of Cardinality and Equinumerosity. Cognitive Science, 37(8), 1493–1506. https://doi.org/10.1111/cogs.12043 Singh, N. (2016). Mathematics and Music. INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH, 5(10). https://doi.org/DOI: 10.36106/ijsr Slusser, E. B., & Sarnecka, B. W. (2011). Find the picture of eight turtles: A link between children’s counting and their knowledge of number word semantics. Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 110(1), 38–51. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2011.03.006 Taylor, S. V., & Leung, C. B. (2020). Multimodal Literacy and Social Interaction: Young Children’s Literacy Learning. Early Childhood Education Journal, 48(1), 1–10. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10643-019-00974-0 Vaiouli, P., & Friesen, A. (2016). The Magic of Music: Engaging Young Children with Autism Spectrum Disorders in Early Literacy Activities With Their Peers. Childhood Education, 92(2), 126–133. https://doi.org/10.1080/00094056.2016.1150745 Vaiouli, P., & Ogle, L. (2015). Music Strategies to Promote Engagement and Academic Growth of Young Children with ASD in the Inclusive Classroom. Young Exceptional Children, 18(2), 19–28. https://doi.org/10.1177/1096250614523968 Vaughn, K. (2000). Music and Mathematics: Modest Support for the Oft-Claimed Relationship. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 34(3/4), 149–166. JSTOR. https://doi.org/10.2307/3333641 Wagner, J. B., & Johnson, S. C. (2011). An association between understanding cardinality and analog magnitude representations in preschoolers. Cognition, 119(1), 10–22. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cognition.2010.11.014 Whitehurst, G. J., & Lonigan, C. J. (1998). Child Development and Emergent Literacy. Child Development, 69(3), 848–872. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-8624.1998.tb06247.x Wynn, K. (1990). Children’s understanding of counting. Cognition, 36(2), 155–193. https://doi.org/10.1016/0010-0277(90)90003-3
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Hanscombe, Elisabeth. "A Plea for Doubt in the Subjectivity of Method." M/C Journal 14, no. 1 (January 24, 2011). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.335.

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Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)Doubt has been my closest companion for several years as I struggle to make sense of certain hidden events from within my family’s history. The actual nature of such events, although now lost to us, can nevertheless be explored through the distorting lens of memory and academic research. I base such explorations in part on my intuition and sensitivity to emotional experience, which are inevitably riddled with doubt. I write from the position of a psychoanalytic psychologist who is also a creative writer and my doubts increase further when I use the autobiographical impulse as a driving force. I am not alone with such uncertainties. Ross Gibson, an historian and filmmaker, uses his doubts to explore empty spaces in the Australian landscape. He looks to see “what’s gone missing” as he endeavours with a team of colleagues to build up some “systematic comprehension in response to fragments” (Gibson, “Places” 1). How can anyone be certain as to what has transpired with no “facts” to go on? he asks. What can we do with our doubts? To this end, Gibson has collected a series of crime scene photographs, taken in post war Sydney, and created a display – a photographic slide show with a minimalist musical score, mostly of drumming and percussion, coupled with a few tight, poetic words, in the form of haiku, splattered across the screen. The notes accompanying the photographic negatives were lost. The only details “known” include the place, the date and the image. Of some two thousand photos, Gibson selected only fifty for display, by hunch, by nuance, or by whatever it was that stirred in him when he first glimpsed them. He describes each photo as “the imprint of a scream”, a gut reaction riddled with doubt (Gibson and Richards, Wartime). In this type of research, creative imaginative flair is essential, Gibson argues. “We need to propose ‘what if’ scenarios that help us account for what has happened…so that we can better envisage what might happen. We need to apprehend the past” (Gibson, “Places” 2). To do this we need imagination, which involves “a readiness to incorporate the unknown…when one encounters evidence that’s in smithereens”, the evidence of the past that lies rooted in a seedbed of doubt (Gibson, “Places” 2). The sociologist, Avery Gordon, also argues in favour of the imaginative impulse. “Fiction is getting pretty close to sociology,” she suggests as she begins her research into the business of ghosts and haunting (Gordon 38). As we entertain our doubts we tune in with our uncertain imaginations. “The places where our discourse is unauthorised by virtue of its unruliness…take us away from abstract questions of method, from bloodless professionalised questions, toward the materiality of institutionalised storytelling, with all its uncanny repetitions” (Gordon 39). If we are to dig deeper, to understand more about the emotional truth of our “fictional” pasts we must look to “the living traces, the memories of the lost and disappeared” (Gordon ix). According to Janice Radway, Gordon seeks a new way of knowing…a knowing that is more a listening than a seeing, a practice of being attuned to the echoes and murmurs of that which has been lost but which is still present among us in the form of intimations, hints, suggestions and portents … ghostly matters … . To be haunted is to be tied to historical and social effects. (x) And to be tied to such effects is to live constantly in the shadow of doubt. A photograph of my dead baby sister haunts me still. As a child I took this photo to school one day. I had peeled it from its corners in the family album. There were two almost identical pictures, side by side. I hoped no one would notice the space left behind. “She’s dead,” I said. I held the photo out to a group of girls in the playground. My fingers had smeared the photo’s surface. The children peered at the image. They wanted to stare at the picture of a dead baby. Not one had seen a dead body before, and not one had been able to imagine the stillness, a photographic image without life, without breath that I passed around on the asphalt playground one spring morning in 1962 when I was ten years old. I have the photo still—my dead sister who bears the same name as my older sister, still living. The dead one has wispy fine black hair. In the photo there are dark shadows underneath her closed eyes. She looks to be asleep. I do not emphasise grief at the loss of my mother’s first-born daughter. My mother felt it briefly, she told me later. But things like that happened all the time during the war. Babies were born and died regularly. Now, all these years later, these same unmourned babies hover restlessly in the nurseries of generations of survivors. There is no way we can be absolute in our interpretations, Gibson argues, but in the first instance there is some basic knowledge to be generated from viewing the crime scene photographs, as in viewing my death photo (Gibson, "Address"). For example, we can reflect on the décor and how people in those days organised their spaces. We can reflect on the way people stood and walked, got on and off vehicles, as well as examine something of the lives of the investigative police, including those whose job it was to take these photographs. Gibson interviewed some of the now elderly men from the Sydney police force who had photographed the crime scenes he displays. He asked questions to deal with his doubts. He now has a very different appreciation of the life of a “copper”, he says. His detective work probing into these empty spaces, digging into his doubts, has reduced his preconceptions and prejudices (Gibson, "Address"). Preconception and prejudice cannot tolerate doubt. In order to bear witness, Gibson says we need to be speculative, to be loose, but not glib, “narrativising” but not inventive, with an eye to the real world (Gibson, "Address"). Gibson’s interest in an interpretation of life after wartime in Sydney is to gather a sense of the world that led to these pictures. His interpretations derive from his hunches, but hunches, he argues, also need to be tested for plausibility (Gibson, Address). Like Gibson, I hope that the didactic trend from the past—to shut up and listen—has been replaced by one that involves “discovery based learning”, learning that is guided by someone who knows “just a little more”, in a common sense, forensic, investigative mode (Gibson, “Address”). Doubt is central to this heuristic trend. Likewise, my doubts give me permission to explore my family’s past without the paralysis of intentionality and certainty. “What method have you adopted for your research?” Gordon asks, as she considers Luce Irigaray’s thoughts on the same question. It is “a delicate question. For isn’t it the method, the path to knowledge, that has always also led us away, led us astray, by fraud and artifice” (Gordon 38). So what is my methodology? I use storytelling meshed with theory and the autobiographical. But what do you think you’re doing? my critics ask. You call this research? I must therefore look to literary theorists on biography and autobiography for support. Nancy Miller writes about the denigration of the autobiographical, particularly in academic circles, where the tendency has been to see the genre as “self indulgent” in its apparent failure to maintain standards of objectivity, of scrutiny and theoretical distance (Miller 421). However, the autobiographical, Miller argues, rather than separating and dividing us through self-interests can “narrow the degree of separation” by operating as an aid to remembering (425). We recognise ourselves in another’s memoir, however fleetingly, and the recognition makes our “own experience feel more meaningful: not ‘merely’ personal but part of the bigger picture of cultural memory” (Miller 426). I speak with some hesitation about my family of origin yet it frames my story and hence my methodology. For many years I have had a horror of what writers and academics call “structure”. I considered myself lacking any ability to create a structure within my writing. I write intuitively. I have some idea of what I wish to explore and then I wait for ideas to enter my mind. They rise to the surface much like air bubbles from a fish. I wait till the fish joggles my bait. Often I write as I wait for a fish to bite. This writing, which is closely informed by my reading, occurs in an intuitive way, as if by instinct. I follow the associations that erupt in my mind, even as I explore another’s theory, and if it is at all possible, if I can get hold of these associations, what I, too, call hunches, then I follow them, much as Gibson and Gordon advocate. Like Gordon, I take my “distractions” seriously (Gordon, 31-60). Gordon follows ghosts. She looks for the things behind the things, the things that haunt her. I, too, look for what lies beneath, what is unconscious, unclear. This writing does not come easily and it takes many drafts before a pattern can emerge, before I, who have always imagined I could not develop a structure, begin to see one—an outline in bold where the central ideas accrue and onto which other thoughts can attach. This structure is not static. It begins with the spark of desire, the intercourse of opposing feelings, for me the desire to untangle family secrets from the past, to unpack one form, namely the history as presented within my family and then to re-assemble it through a written re-construction that attempts to make sense of the empty spaces left out of the family narrative, where no record, verbal or written, has been provided. This operates against pressure from certain members of my family to leave the family past unexplored. My methodology is subjective. Any objectivity I glean in exploring the work and theories of others comes through my own perspective. I read the works of academics in the literary field, and academics from psychoanalysis interested in infant development and personality theory. They consider these issues in different ways from the way in which I, as a psychotherapist, a doubt-filled researcher, and writer, read and experience them. To my clinician self, these ideas evolve in practice. I do not see them as mere abstractions. To me they are living ideas, they pulse and flow, and yet there are some who would seek to tie them down or throw them out. Recently I asked my mother about the photo of her dead baby, her first-born daughter who had died during the Hongerwinter (Hunger winter) of 1945 in Heilo, Holland. I was curious to know how the photo had come about. My curiosity had been flamed by Jay Ruby’s Secure the Shadow: Death and Photography in America, a transcript on the nature of post-mortem photography, which includes several photos of dead people. The book I found by chance in a second-hand books store. I could not leave these photographs behind. Ruby is concerned to ask questions about why we have become so afraid of death, at least in the western world, that we no longer take photographs of our loved ones after death as mementos, or if we take such photos, they are kept private, not shared with the public, for fear that the owners might be considered ghoulish (Ruby 161). I follow in Gordon’s footsteps. She describes how one day, on her way to a conference to present a paper, she had found herself distracted from her conference topic by thoughts of a woman whose image she had discovered was “missing” from a photo taken in Berlin in 1901. According to Gordon’s research, the woman, Sabina Spielrein, should have been present in this photo, but was not. Spielrein is a little known psychoanalyst, little known despite the fact that she was the first to hypothesise on the nature of the death instinct, an unconscious drive towards death and oblivion (Gordon 40). Gordon’s “search” for this missing woman overtook her initial research. My mother could not remember who took her dead baby’s photograph, but suspected it was a neighbour of her cousin in whose house she had stayed. She told me again the story she has told me many times before, and always at my instigation. When I was little I wondered that my mother could stay dry-eyed in the telling. She seemed so calm, when I had imagined that were I the mother of a dead baby I would find it hard to go on. “It is harder,” my mother said, to lose an older child. “When a child dies so young, you have fewer memories. It takes less time to get over it.” Ruby concludes that after World War Two, postmortem photographs were less likely to be kept in the family album, as they would have been in earlier times. “Those who possess death-related family pictures regard them as very private pictures to be shown only to selected people” (Ruby 161). When I look at the images in Ruby’s book, particularly those of the young, the children and babies, I am struck again at the unspoken. The idea of the dead person, seemingly alive in the photograph, propped up in a chair, on a mother’s lap, or resting on a bed, lifeless. To my contemporary sensibility it seems wrong. To look upon these dead people, their identities often unknown, and to imagine the grief for others in that loss—for grief there must have been such that the people remaining felt it necessary to preserve the memory—becomes almost unbearable. It is tempting to judge the past by present standards. In 1999, while writing her historical novel Year of Wonders, Geraldine Brooks came across a letter Henry James had written ninety eight years earlier to a young Sarah Orne Jewett who had previously sent him a manuscript of her historical novel for comment. In his letter, James condemns the notion of the historical novel as an impossibility: “the invention, the representation of the old consciousness, the soul, the sense of horizon, the vision of individuals in whose minds half the things that make ours, that make the modern world,” are all impossible, he insisted (Brooks 3). Despite Brooks’s initial disquiet at James’s words, she realised later that she had heard similar ideas uttered in different contexts before. Brooks had worked as a journalist in the Middle East and Africa: “They don’t think like us,” white Africans would say of their black neighbours, or Israelis of Arabs or upper class Palestinians about their desperately poor refugee-camp brethren … . “They don’t value life as we do. They don’t care if their kids get killed—they have so many of them”. (Brookes 3) But Brooks argues, “a woman keening for a dead child sounds exactly as raw in an earth-floored hovel as it does in a silk-carpeted drawing room” (3). Brooks is concerned to get beyond the certainties of our pre-conceived ideas: “It is human nature to put yourself in another’s shoes. The past may be another country. But the only passport required is empathy”(3). And empathy again requires the capacity to tolerate doubt. Later I asked my mother yet again about what it was like for her when her baby died, and why she had chosen to have her dead baby photographed. She did not ask for the photograph to be taken, she told me. But she was glad to have it now; otherwise nothing would remain of this baby, buried in an unfamiliar cemetery on the other side of the world. Why am I haunted by this image of my dead baby sister and how does it connect with my family’s secrets? The links are still in doubt. Gibson’s creative flair, Gordon’s ideas on ghostly matters and haunting, the things behind the things, my preoccupation with my mother’s dead baby and a sense that this sister might mean less to me did I not have the image of her photograph planted in my memory from childhood, all come together through parataxis if we can bear our doubts. Certainty is the enemy of introspection of imagination and of creativity. Yet too much doubt can paralyse. Here I write about tolerable levels of doubt tempered with an inquisitive mind that can land on hunches and an imagination that allows the researcher to follow such hunches and then seek evidence that corroborates or disproves them. As Gibson writes elsewhere, I tried to use all these scrappy details to help people think about the absences and silences between all the pinpointed examples that made up the scenarios that I presented in prose that was designed to spur rigorous speculation rather than lock down singular conclusions. (“Extractive” 2) Ours is a positive doubt, one that expects to find something, however “unexpected”, rather than a negative doubt that expects nothing. For doubt in large doses can paralyse a person into inaction. Furthermore, a balanced state of doubt fosters connectivity. As John Patrick Shanley’s character, the parish priest, Father Flynn, in the film Doubt, observes, “there are these times in our life when we feel lost. It happens and it’s a bond” (Shanley). References Brooks, Geraldine. "Timeless Tact Helps Sustain a Literary Time Traveller." New York Times, 2001. 14 Jan. 2011 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/02/arts/writers-on-writing-timeless-tact-helps-sustain-a-literary-time-traveler.html?pagewanted=3&src=pm›. Doubt. Shanley, Dir. J. P. Shanley. Miramax Films, 2008. Gibson, Ross, and Kate Richards. “Life after Wartime.” N.d. 25 Feb. 2011. ‹http://www.lifeafterwartime.com/›. Gibson, Ross. “The Art of the Real Conference.” Keynote address. U Newcastle, 2008. Gibson, Ross. “Places past Disappearance.” Transformations 13-1 (2006). 22 Feb. 2007 ‹http://www.transformationsjournal.org/journal/issue_13/article_01.shtml›. ———. “Extractive Realism.” Australian Humanities Review 47 (2009). 25 Feb. 2011 ‹http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-November-2009/gibson.html›. Gordon, Avery F. Ghostly Matters: Haunting and the Sociological Imagination. Minneapolis: U Minnesota P, 2008. Miller, Nancy K. “But Enough about Me, What Do You Think of My Memoir?” The Yale Journal of Criticism 13.2 (2000): 421-536. Ruby, Jay. Secure the Shadow: Death and Photography in America. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1995.
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Barnes, Duncan, Danielle Fusco, and Lelia Green. "Developing a Taste for Coffee: Bangladesh, Nescafé, and Australian Student Photographers." M/C Journal 15, no. 2 (May 2, 2012). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.471.

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Abstract:
IntroductionThis article is about the transformation of coffee, from having no place in the everyday lives of the people of Bangladesh, to a new position as a harbinger of liberal values and Western culture. The context is a group of Australian photojournalism students who embarked on a month-long residency in Bangladesh; the content is a Nescafé advertisement encouraging the young, middle-class Bangladesh audience to consume coffee, in a marketing campaign that promotes “my first cup.” For the Australian students, the marketing positioning of this advertising campaign transformed instant coffee into a strange and unfamiliar commodity. At the same time, the historic association between Bangladesh and tea prompted one of the photographers to undertake her own journey to explore the hidden side of that other Western staple. This paper explores the tradition of tea culture in Bangladesh and the marketing campaign for instant coffee within this culture, combining the authors’ experiences and perspectives. The outline of the Photomedia unit in the Bachelor of Creative Industries degree that the students were working towards at Edith Cowan University (ECU) in Australia states that:students will engage with practices, issues and practicalities of working as a photojournalist in an international, cross cultural context. Students will work in collaboration with students of Pathshala: South Asian Institute of Photography, Dhaka Bangladesh in the research, production and presentation of stories related to Bangladeshi society and culture for distribution to international audiences (ECU). The sixteen students from Perth, living and working in Bangladesh between 5 January and 7 February 2012, exhibited a diverse range of cultures, contexts, and motivations. Young Australians, along with a number of ECU’s international students, including some from Norway, China and Sweden, were required to learn first-hand about life in Bangladesh, one of the world’s poorest and most densely populated countries. Danielle Fusco and ECU lecturer Duncan Barnes collaborated with staff and students of Pathshala, South Asian Media Institute (Pathshala). Their recollections and observations on tea production and the location are central to this article but it is the questions asked by the group about the marketing of instant coffee into this culture that provides its tensions. Fusco completed a week-long induction and then travelled in Bangladesh for a fortnight to research and photograph individual stories on rural and urban life. Barnes here sets the scene for the project, describing the expectations and what actually happened: When we travel to countries that are vastly different to our own it is often to seek out that difference; to go in search of the romanticised ideals that have been portrayed as paradise in films, books and photographs. “The West” has long been fascinated with “The East” (Said) and for the past half century, since the hippie treks to Marrakesh and Afghanistan, people have journeyed overland to the Indian sub-continent, both from Europe and from Australia, yearning for a cultural experience they cannot find at home. Living in Perth, Western Australia, sometimes called the most isolated capital city in the world, that pull to something “different” is like a magnet. Upon arrival in Dhaka, you find yourself deliciously overwhelmed by the heavy traffic, the crowded markets, the spicy foods and the milky lassie drinks. It only takes a few stomach upsets to make your Western appetite start kicking in and you begin craving things you have at home but that are hard to find in Bangladesh. Take coffee for example. I recently completed a month-long visit to Bangladesh, which, like India, is a nation of tea drinkers. Getting any kind of good coffee requires that you be in what expatriates call “the Golden Triangle” of Dhaka city—within the area contained by Gulshan-Banani-Baridhara. Here you find the embassies and a sizeable expatriate community that constitutes a Western bubble unrepresentative of Bangladesh beyond these districts. Coffee World is an example of a Western-style café chain that, as the name suggests, serves coffee beverages. It has trouble making a quality flat white. The baristas are poorly trained, the service is painfully slow, yet the prices are comparable to those in the West. Even with these disadvantages, it is frequented by Westerners who also make use of the free WiFi. In contrast, tea is available at every road junction for around 5 cents Australian. It’s ready in seconds: the kettle is always hot due to a constant turnover of local customers. It was the history of tea growing in Bangladesh, and a desire to know more about a commodity that people in the West take for granted, that most attracted Fusco’s interest. She chose to focus on Bangladesh’s oldest commercial tea garden (plantation) Sylhet, which has been in production since 1857 (Tea Board). As is the case with many tea farms in the Indian sub-continent, the workers at Sylhet are part of Bangladesh’s Hindu minority. Fusco left Dhaka and travelled into the rural areas to investigate tea production: Venturing into these estates from the city is like entering an entirely different world. They are isolated places, and although they are close in distance, they are completely separate from the main city. Spending time in the Khadim tea estate amongst the plantations and the workers’ compounds made me very aware of the strong relationship that exists between them. The Hindu teaching of Samsara refers to the continuous cycle of repeated birth, life, death and rebirth [Hinduism], which became a metaphor for me, for this relationship I was experiencing. It is clear that neither farm [where the tea is grown] nor village [which houses the people] could live without each other. The success and maintenance of the tea farm relies on the workers just as much as the workers rely on the tea gardens for their livelihood and sustenance. Their life cycles are intertwined and in synch. There are many problems in the compounds. The people are extremely poor. Their education opportunities are limited, and they work incredibly hard for very little money for their entire lives. They are bound to stay and work here and as those generations before them, were born, worked and died here, living their whole lives in the community of the tea farm. By documenting the lives of the people, I realised I was documenting the process of the lives of the tea trees at the same time. This is how I met Lolita.Figure 1. Bangladeshi tea worker, Lolita, stands in a small section of the Khadim tea plantation in the early morning. Sylhet, Bangladesh (Danielle Fusco, Jan. 2012). This woman emulated everything I was seeing and feeling about the village and the garden. She spoke about the reliance on the trees, especially because of the money and, therefore, the food, they provide for her and her husband. I became aware of the injustice of this system because the workers are paid so little while this industry is booming. It was obvious that life here is far from perfect, but as Lolita explains, they make do. She has worked on the tea estate for decades. As her husband is no longer working, she is the primary income earner. They are able, however, to live in relative comfort now their children have all married and left and it is just the two of them. Lolita describes that money lies within these trees. Money for her means that she can eat that day. Money for the managers means industrial success. Either way, whether it is in the eyes of the individual or the industry, tea always comes down to Taka [the currency of Bangladesh]. Marketing Coffee in a Culture of Tea and Betel Nut With such a strong culture of tea production and consumption and a coffee culture just existing on the fringe, a campaign by Nescafé to encourage Bangladeshi consumers to have “my first cup” of Nescafé instant coffee at the time of this study captured the imagination of the students. How effective can the marketing of Nescafé instant coffee be in a society that is historically a producer and consumer of tea, and which also still embraces the generations-old use of the betel nut as an everyday stimulant? Although it only employs some 150,000 (Islam et al.) in a nation of 150 million people, tea makes an important contribution to the Bangladesh economy. Shortly after the 1971 civil war, in which East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) became independent from West Pakistan (now Pakistan), the then-Chairman of the Bangladesh Tea Board, writing in World Development, commented:In the highly competitive marketing environment of today it is extremely necessary for the tea industry of Bangladesh to increase production by raising the per acre yield, improve quality by adoption of finer plucking standards and modernization of factories and reduce per unit cost of production so as to be able to sell more of our teas to foreign markets and thereby earn higher amounts of much needed foreign exchange for the country as well as generate additional resources within the industry for ploughing back for further development (Ali 55). In Bangladesh, tea is a cash crop that, even in the 1970s following vicious conflicts, is more than capable of meeting local demand and producing an export dividend. Coffee is imported commodity that, historically, has had little place in Bangladeshi life or culture. However important tea is, it is not the traditional Bangladesh stimulant. Instead, over the years, when people in the West would have had a cup of tea or coffee and/or a cigarette, most Bangladeshis have turned to the betel nut. A 2005 study of 100 citizens from Araihazar, Bangladesh, conducted by researchers from Columbia University, found that coffee consumption is “very low in this population” (Hafeman et al. 567). The purpose of the study was to assess the impact of betel quids (the wad of masticated nut) and the chewing of betel nuts, upon tremor. For this reason, it was important to record the consumption of stimulants in the 98 participants who progressed to the next stage of the study and took a freehand spiral-drawing test. While “26 (27%) participants had chewed betel quids, 23 (23%) had smoked one or more cigarettes, [and] 14 (14%) drank tea; on that day, only 1 (1%) drank caffeinated soda, and none (0%) drank coffee” (Hafeman et al. 568). Given its addictive and carcinogenic properties (Sharma), the people who chewed betel quids were more likely to exhibit tremor in their spiral drawings than the people who did not. As this (albeit small) study suggests, the preferred Bangladeshi stimulant is more likely to be betel or tobacco rather than a beverage. Insofar as hot drinks are consumed, Bangladesh citizens drink tea. This poses a significant challenge for multinational advertisers who seek to promote the consumption of instant coffee as a means of growing the global market for Nescafé. Marketing Nescafé to Bangladesh In Dhaka, in January 2012, the television campaign slogan for Nescafé is “My first cup”, with the tagline, “Time you started.” This Nescafé television commercial (NTC) impressed itself upon the Australian visitors, both in terms of its frequency of broadcast and in its referencing of Western culture and values. (The advertisement can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2E8mFX43oAM). The NTC’s three stars, Vir Das, Purab Kohli, and leading Bollywood actress Deepika Padukone, are highly-recognisable to young Bangladeshi audiences and the storyline is part of a developing series of advertisements which together form a mini-soap opera, like that used so successfully to advertise the Nescafé Gold Blend brand of instant coffee in the West in the 1980s to 1990s (O’Donohoe 242; Beale). The action takes place in Kohli’s affluent, Western-style apartment. The drama starts with Das challenging Kohli regarding whether he has successfully developed a relationship with his attractive neighbour, Padukone. Using a combination of local language with English words and sub-titles, the first sequence is captioned: “Any progress with Deepika, or are you still mixing coffee?” Suggesting incredulity, and that he could do better, Das asks Kohli, according to the next subtitle, “What are you doing dude?” The use of the word “dude” clearly refers to American youth culture, familiar in such movies as Dude, where’s my car? This is underlined by the immediate transition to the English words of “bikes … biceps … chest … explosion.” Of these four words only “chest” is pronounced in the local tongue, although all four words are included as captions in English. Kohli appears less and less impressed as Das becomes increasingly insistent, with Das going on to express frustration with Kohli through the exclamation “u don’t even have a plan.” The use of the text-speak English “u” here can be constructed as another way of persuading young Bangladeshi viewers that this advertisement is directed at them: the “u” in place of “you” is likely to annoy their English-speaking elders. Das continues speaking in his mother tongue, with the subtitle “Deepika padukone [sic] is your neighbour and you are only drinking coffee,” with the subsequent subtitle emphasising: “Deepika and only coffee.” At this point, Padukone enters the apartment through the open door without knocking and confidently says “Hi.” Kohli explains the situation by responding (in English, and subtitled) “my school friend, Das”. Padukone, in turn, responds in a friendly way to both men (in English, and subtitled) “You guys want to have coffee?” Instead of responding directly to this invitation, Das models to Kohli what it is to take the initiative in this situation: what it is to have a plan. “Hello” (he says, in English and subtitled) “I don’t have coffee but I have a plan. You and me, my bike, right now, hit the town, party!” Kohli looks down at the floor, embarrassed, while Padukone looks quizzically at him over Das’s shoulder. Kohli smiles, and points to himself and Padukone, clearly excluding Das: “I will have coffee” (in English, and subtitle). “Better plan”, exclaims Padukone, “You and me, my place, right now, coffee.” She looks challengingly at Das: “Right?,” a statement rather than a request, and exits, with Kohli following and Das left behind in the apartment. Cue voice-over (not a subtitle, but in-screen speech bubble) “[It’s] time you started” (spoken) “the new Nescafé” (shot change) “My first cup” (with an in-screen price promotion). This commercial associates coffee drinking with Western values of social and personal autonomy. For young women in the traditional Muslim culture of Bangladesh, it suggests a world in which they are at liberty to spend time with the suitors they choose, ignoring those whom they find pushy or inappropriate, and free to invite a man back to “my place, right now” for coffee. The scene setting in this advertisement and the use of English in both the spoken and written text suggests its target is the educated middle class, and indicates that sophisticated, affluent, trend-setters drink coffee as a part of getting to know their neighbours. In line with this, the still which ends the commercial promotes the Facebook page “Know your neighbours.” The flirtatious nature of the actors in the advertisement, the emphasis on each of the male characters spending time alone with the female character, and the female character having both power and choice in this situation is likely to be highly unacceptable to traditional Bangladeshi parental values and, therefore, proportionately more exciting to the target audience. The underlying suggestion of “my first cup” and “time you started” is that the social consumption of that first cup of coffee is the “first step” to becoming more Western. The statement also has overtones of sexual initiation. The advertisement aligns itself with the world portrayed in the Western media consumed in Bangladesh, and the implication is that—even if Western liberal values are not currently a possible choice for all—it is at least feasible to start on the journey towards these values through drinking that first cup of coffee. Unbeknownst to the Bangladesh audience, this Nescafé marketing strategy echoes, in almost all material particulars, the same approach that was so successful in persuading Australians to embrace instant coffee. Khamis, in her essay on Australia and the convenience of instant coffee, argues that, while in 1928 Australia had the highest per capita consumption of tea in the world, this had begun to change by the 1950s. The transformation in the market positioning of coffee was partly achieved through an association between tea and old-fashioned ‘Britishness’ and coffee and the United States: this discovery [of coffee] spoke to changes in Australia’s lifestyle options: the tea habit was tied to Australia’s development as a far-flung colonial outpost, a daily reminder that many still looked to London as the nation’s cultural capital: the growing appeal of instant coffee reflected a widening and more nuanced cultural palate. This was not just ‘another’ example of the United States postwar juggernaut; it marks the transitional phase in Australia’s history, as its cultural identity was informed less by the staid conservativism of Britain than the heady flux of New World glamour (219). Coffee was associated with the USA not simply through advertising but also through cultural exposure. By 1943, notes Khamis, there were 120,000 American service personnel stationed in Australia and she quotes Symons (168) as saying that “when an American got on a friendly footing with an Australian family he was usually found in the kitchen, teaching the Mrs how to make coffee, or washing the dishes” (168, cited in Khamis 220). The chances were that “the Mrs”—the Australian housewife—felt she needed the tuition: an Australian survey conducted by Gallup in March 1950 indicated that 55 per cent of respondents at that time had never tried coffee, while a further 24 per cent said they “seldom” consumed it (Walker and Roberts 133, cited in Khamis 222). In a newspaper article titled, “Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here”, Munro describes the impact of exposure to the first American troops based in Australia during this time, with a then seven year old recalling: “They were foreign, quite a different culture from us. They spoke more loudly than us. They had strange accents, cute expressions, they were really very exotic.” The American troops caused consternation for Australian fathers and boyfriends. Dulcie Wood was 18 when she was dating an American serviceman: They had more money to spend (than Australian troops). They seemed to have plenty of supplies, they were always bringing you presents—stockings and cartons of cigarettes […] Their uniforms were better. They took you to more places. They were quite good dancers, some of them. They always brought you flowers. They were more polite to women. They charmed the mums because they were very polite. Some dads were a bit more sceptical of them. They weren’t sure if all that charm was genuine (quoted in Munro). Darian-Smith argues that, at that time, Australian understanding of Americans was based on Hollywood films, which led to an impression of American technological superiority and cultural sophistication (215-16, 232). “Against the American-style combination of smart advertising, consumerism, self-expression and popular democracy, the British class system and its buttoned-up royals appeared dull and dour” writes Khamis (226, citing Grant 15)—almost as dull and dour as 1950s tea compared with the postwar sophistication of Nescafé instant coffee. Conclusion The approach Nestlé is using in Bangladesh to market instant coffee is tried and tested: coffee is associated with the new, radical cultural influence while tea and other traditional stimulants are relegated to the choice of an older, more staid generation. Younger consumers are targeted with a romantic story about the love of coffee, reflected in a mini-soap opera about two people becoming a couple over a cup of Nescafé. Hopefully, the Pathshala-Edith Cowan University collaboration is at least as strong. Some of the overseas visitors return to Bangladesh on a regular basis—the student presentations in 2012 were, for instance, attended by two visiting graduates from the 2008 program who were working in Bangladesh. For the Australian participants, the association with Pathshala, South Asian Media Institute, and Drik Photo Agency brings recognition, credibility and opportunity. It also offers a totally new perspective on what to order in the coffee queue once they are home again in Australia. Postscript The final week of the residency in Bangladesh was taken up with presentations and a public exhibition of the students’ work at Drik Picture Agency, Dhaka, 3–7 February 2012. Danielle Fusco’s photographs can be accessed at: http://public-files.apps.ecu.edu.au/SCA_Marketing/coffee/coffee.html References Ali, M. “Commodity Round-up: Problems and Prospects of Bangladesh Tea”, World Development 1.1–2 (1973): 55. Beale, Claire. “Should the Gold Blend Couple Get Back Together?” The Independent 29 Apr 2010. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.independent.co.uk/news/media/advertising/should-the-gold-blend-couple-get-back-together-1957196.html›. Darian-Smith, Kate. On the Home Front: Melbourne in Wartime 1939-1945. 2nd ed. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2009. Dude, Where’s My Car? Dir. Danny Leiner. Twentieth Century Fox, 2000. Edith Cowan University (ECU). “Photomedia Summer School Bangladesh 2012.” 1 May 2012 .Grant, Bruce. The Australian Dilemma: A New Kind of Western Society. Sydney: Macdonald Futura, 1983. Hafeman, D., H. Ashan, T. Islam, and E. Louis. “Betel-quid: Its Tremor-producing Effects in Residents of Araihazar, Bangladesh.” Movement Disorders 21.4 (2006): 567-71. Hinduism. “Reincarnation and Samsara.” Heart of Hinduism. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://hinduism.iskcon.org/concepts/102.htm›. Islam, G., M. Iqbal, K. Quddus, and M. Ali. “Present Status and Future Needs of Tea Industry in Bangladesh (Review).” Proceedings of the Pakistan Academy of Science. 42.4 (2005): 305-14. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.paspk.org/downloads/proc42-4/42-4-p305-314.pdf›. Khamis, Susie. “It Only Takes a Jiffy to Make: Nestlé, Australia and the Convenience of Instant Coffee.” Food, Culture & Society 12.2 (2009): 217-33. Munro, Ian. “Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here.” The Age 27 Feb. 2002. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2002/02/26/1014704950716.html›. O’Donohoe, Stephanie. “Raiding the Postmodern Pantry: Advertising Intertextuality and the Young Adult Audience.” European Journal of Marketing 31.3/4 (1997): 234-53 Pathshala. Pathshala, South Asian Media Academy. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.pathshala.net/controller.php›. Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books, 1978. Sharma, Dinesh. “Betel Quid and Areca Nut are Carcinogenic without Tobacco.” The Lancet Oncology 4.10 (2003): 587. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.lancet.com/journals/lanonc/article/PIIS1470-2045(03)01229-4/fulltext›. Symons, Michael. One Continuous Picnic: A History of Eating in Australia. Ringwood, Vic: Penguin, 1984. Tea Board. “History of Bangladesh Tea Industry.” Bangladesh Tea Board. 8 Apr. 2012 ‹http://www.teaboard.gov.bd/index.php?option=HistoryTeaIndustry›. Walker, Robin and Dave Roberts. From Scarcity to Surfeit: A History of Food and Nutrition in New South Wales. Sydney: NSW UP, 1988.
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Trezise, Bryoni. "What Does the Baby Selfie Say? Seeing Ways of ‘Self-Seeing’ in Infant Digital Cultures." M/C Journal 20, no. 4 (August 16, 2017). http://dx.doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1263.

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IntroductionWhen a baby girl born in Britain was endowed with the topical name ‘Hashtag’, a social media post decried the naming, and a media storm followed. Before she was even home from hospital, headlines were at the ready: “Did a mother really just name her child Hashtag?” (Nye) and “Baby Hashtag: has the search for original names gone too far?” (Barkham). Trollers were also poised to react, offering: “The first name is REALLY dumb. And you're even dumber,” prompting a rejection of the baby’s name as well as her ostensibly ill-equipped parents (Facebook). Dubbed a “Public Figure” on her Facebook page, Hashtag Jameson accrued a particularly premature type of celebrity, where, with a handful of baby selfies, she declared via Twitter, and only hours after birth, that she was “already trending”.In this article, I consider the relationship between the infant child and the visual-digital economies in which it – as in the Hashtag hoax, above – performs. The infant child is brought into view with the very first sentence that frames John Berger’s Ways of Seeing. “Seeing comes before words”, he writes. “The child looks and recognizes before it can speak” (1). Berger’s reference to the seeing child positions it as an active agent in cultures and practices of visuality, but also uses an idea of the child to position vision as the primary communicative means by which we “establish our place in the surrounding world” and in which we are enveloped “before” speech (7). Here, I explore the intensified relationship between the visual culture of infancy and the economised digital movement of vision that it produces in one highly specific image-genre: the baby selfie. In doing so I aim to characterise the depictive nature of this format in terms of how it compositionally documents – to further borrow the language of Berger, who was then discussing oil paintings – “a way of seeing the world, which was ultimately determined by new attitudes to property and exchange” (87).The new sociology of childhood has been concerned with the construction of the child figure as it has interfaced with new cultural and political realities since the early 1980s (Prout). These include “phenomena such as the flexibilization of production … expanding networks of knowledge … and shifts in labour market participation, work and the global economy” (Prout 5). I suggest here that the baby selfie can be seen as an unprecedented social marker of these transformations, signalling a heightened degree of priceless sentiment within which the child – as an animator of amateur affects, viral tendencies and algorithmic logics – is given to operate. I focus on the compositional propensities of the baby selfie in order to characterise how it visually construes a particular kind of self that is intrinsically entangled with the conception of the image as a form of capital exchange. That is, I suggest that in its intense and yet paradoxical self-performativity the baby selfie depicts a way of seeing that is predicated on, but also troubles, the conceit of a commodified social relation. What Does the Baby Selfie Say?“Should babies really be taking selfies?” yells a headline warning against the perceived dangers of youth digital cultures (Cox). The 2014 story references a phone app built by father Matthew Pegula that uses front-facing cameras to “unintentionally teac[h] your baby to take selfies of themselves” by generating “rattling sounds, pictures of cute animals, and more to get the baby’s attention.” The article explains that “[w]hen the baby reaches out to touch the screen, the camera snaps their selfie and saves it to the device”. While Pegula’s Baby Selfie App is available for purchase on Google Play’s app store for $1.09, a similar device named New Born Fame, featuring “Facebook and Twitter symbols that are activated when the youngster reaches for them” and inclusions such as “a pair of shoes with an internal pedometer that tracks kicks and posts the activity online, a squeezable GPS tracker and a ‘selfie-ball’ that photographs the baby and uploads the shot whenever the ball rotates” (Peppers), artistically interrogated this relatively new category of “insta-infa-fame”.In their article “What Does the Selfie Say?”, Theresa M. Senft and Nancy K. Baym argue that the selfie exists as the hallmark genre of a new kind of self-reflexive image-making, one that is formally characterised by the “self-generated” nature of the photographic portraiture it depicts, which is in turn conceived for its transmissibility, occurring “primarily via social media” (1589). Popularised in part by new technologies (the camera phone, the smart phone, and then the front-facing phone camera) and in part by new digital platforms (“Facebook, Instagram, SnapChat, Tumblr, WeChat, and Tinder”) (1589), Senft and Baym further explain that the selfie is simultaneously a photographic object which transmits human feeling, a practice of sending (as well as of depicting), and third, a monetized assemblage curated by nonhuman agents. It is this last factor which renders the objecthood of the selfie as it relates to the vernacular that it enacts as well as the practice of its making, political.Notions around the simultaneously constituting and yet virally distributed “self” of social media are not new. A now prominent literature around how the selfie graphically manifests and performs: intimate publics (Walsh and Baker), a normative or resistive image repertoire (Murray), and emotionalised, communicable affect (Bayer et al.), gives rise to a range of viewpoints that aim to characterise how the hyper self-reflexivity of the selfie depicts – visually as well as ontologically – the self as an agent of their own transmissibility (Holiday et al.). From these we understand that the selfie is distinct for its (i) self-representational image-format (it is an image made by the self, of the self, and thereby is identifiable for its capturing of the self in this very process of self-composition); ii) its methods of distribution (selfies are taken and distributed often instantaneously, and thereby are not only objects of, but active agents of, the reshaping of digitally communicative economies); iii) its idiomatic performance of a sociality and aesthetic of the amateur or vernacular (Abidin).The doubled glance both inwards and outwards that the selfie casts is further characterised for how it traces as well as points to a gestural self-awareness held within its compositional characteristics (Frosh). This moves us from a semiotic reading of the selfie to a reading of its “kineasthetic sociability” – that is, its embodied inception of new forms of autobiographical inscription which say “not only ‘see this, here, now,’ but also ‘see me showing you me’” (Frosh 1609-10). Here, the selfie is less a static object and more a gestural imprint of the communicative action in process: it is “simultaneously mediating (the outstretched arm executes the taking of the selfie) and mediated (the outstretched arm becomes a legible and iterable sign within selfies of, among other things, the selfieness of the image)” (Frosh 1611). In this sense, its compositional logic offers a tracing of this very enactive, embodied tendency, which bears more than an indexical relationship to the field that it marks – it depicts itself as a constituting part of that field.While these characteristics are broadly accepted as being true of selfies, the “selfieness” of a baby selfie might be seen to offer a paradoxical reframing of these depictive qualities. That is, if a selfie is a self-depiction of a process of self-depiction, the baby selfie most usually performs this self-reflexivity with recourse to an external agent who is either present in the image frame or who is occluded from it but nonetheless implied by the very nature of the image (a parent or the image-facilitator, or indeed, a baby app). The baby selfie’s scene of self-depiction, then, might be thought of as a kind of self-depiction-by-proxy. At the same time, the baby selfie asks us to invest in the belief that the picture was knowingly self-taken, and in doing so, models a kind of aspirational autonomy for the child/baby figure who is depicted. In this sense, the baby selfie, by its very nature, disrupts the accepted distinguishing format of the selfie: that the picture is both self-depicting and is self-composed. Instead, the baby selfie can be seen to gesturally reincorporate into its visual scene the very question of this structural im/possibility.Depicting the Viral ChildThe figure of the child has been considered by a range of theorists as the organising principle of modernity. Philippe Aries’ foundational work has argued that the modern discovery of childhood is reflected in the rise of the nuclear family and consequential shifts from sociability to privacy. Viviana Zelizer similarly positions the emergence of the economically “useless” but sentimentally “priceless” child against comprehensive social and industrial transformations taking place across the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that excluded the child as a labourer and instead situated it with the disciplinary regime of education. The hetero-normatively white child has since been shown to emblematise concepts of social futurity (Edelman) and myths of morality, humanity and the “ordering of time” (Pelligrini 98).Following Zelizer, the more recently ‘digitally’ visual cultures of childhood can be seen to spin the figure of the child around new socio-economic and discursive imperatives. Lisa Cartwright writes about photographs of waiting adoptee children, in which “children of poor countries become commodities and their images become advertisements in a global market” (83). Deborah Lupton similarly considers the coding of infant bodies in popular media for their “represent[ation] as helpless, vulnerable, uncontrolled, dirty and leaky in opposition to the idealised adult body that is powerful, self-regulated, autonomous, clean, its bodily boundaries sealed from the outside world” (349). More recently, children have been considered for how they either accidentally or volitionally interact with mediated technologies (Nansen) as well as for how they are increasingly digitally surveilled as the objects of a necessary – and increasingly normalised – parental “culture of care” (Leaver 2). These studies make clear that while children are increasingly positioned as the ‘viral’ agents of new kinds of visual markets, they are also infantilised as victims in need of unprecedented cyber-protection.In 1994 Douglas Rushkoff coined the term “media virus” to account for the rapid and uncontrollable ways that popular media texts performed to either coerce or awaken viewing publics. While Rushkoff’s medium of reference was television, Henry Jenkins et al. later reframed virality to instead encompass ideas of user-led agency by linking it with a logic of “stickiness” – evoking what he termed a “peanut butter” analogy to describe the “spreadable” (3) movement of ideas in more recent social media practices. Indeed, Liam French finds a strong parallel between the “phenomenal rise in user generated content” and the turn towards newer visual cultures within social media practices more broadly, noting that it is “ordinary people” (French’s term) who actively generate the very forms of visual cultural production that become key to communicatory circulation. The selfie, in this regard, becomes both a format and an icon of the new ways of seeing brought into perspective by social media practices.Given the political, social and industrial ecologies that constitute such image cultures, it is only recently that the “viral” child, as the next delineation of the sentimentally “priceless” child, has arrived into view. Here, the baby Hashtag hoax can be seen to critically narrate a specific cultural moment: one that is concerned with stabilising the figure of the child even as it constitutes the ground through which that figure also becomes undone. I refer to the way that Hashtag, as a figural baby, presents a tautological identity, where the digital grammar of # names the mechanism by which she would also search for herself. If Hashtag is emblematic of the algorithmic and affective assemblage of contemporary image-cultures of childhood – whose image-work shapes the new temporal dimensions of our watching and viewing practices – she also illustrates how the child has been become not only an object, but a medium of the economic logics of communicative capitalism. That is, the image-work of the baby selfie can be seen to point to the very question of autonomous agency that frames the figure of the child and in doing so, provides a disruptive counterpoint to the “peanut butter” logic of spreadable visual cultures of so-called “ordinary people” more broadly.It is this light that I ask (drawing on Senft and Baym): what does the baby selfie say about how we understand or construe the figure of the child? More specifically, I ask (via Berger) what culture of vision is brought into view by the rise of such visual cultures of the viral child? The “Gestural Gaze” of Digital Infant Agency Ellentv.com recently advertised a call for viewers to send in their favourite baby selfies: “If you've got a baby and a camera, it's time to take some selfies! Take a photo of you and your baby making the same face, and send it to us!” The legal disclaimer accompanying the callout additionally advised that “[b]y submitting Materials, … you … do not violate the right of privacy or publicity of, or constitute a defamation against, any person or entity; that the Materials will not infringe upon or violate the copyright or common law rights or any other rights of any person or entity” (Ellentv.com). From the outset, there appears within baby selfie culture a curious calibration of the agency of the child, who is at once a selfie-self-taker but who is also excluded from a legal right to privacy that concerns “any person or entity”. In this respect we might further ask – following Jacqueline Bhabha’s question “what sort of human is a child?” (1526) – what sort of human is a viral child, and how does the baby selfie depict this paradoxical configuration of infantile agency?While the formality of the baby selfie still demonstrates a range of configurations which often incorporate the figure of a parent and hence contradict the discreet self-composing parameters of the selfie, here I focus in closing on one specific baby selfie that I suggest is emblematic of an increasing prevalence of apparently “true” baby selfies which operate on a range of image-sharing platforms and meme sites. These baby selfies are distinguished by seeming to be (i) an image that is made by the self, of the self, and thereby is identified for its capturing of the self in this very process of self-composition; ii) an image that is construed for methods of often instantaneous distribution; iii) an image that puts forward an idiomatic performance of an amateur vernacular – or what Abidin has called “calibrated amateurism”.One compilation, “12 of the Cutest Baby Selfies You Will Ever See”, foregrounds the autonomy of the figure of the viral child as depicted by baby selfie culture, explaining that “These babies might be small, but they can do a lot more than just laugh, crawl, and play. It turns out they can also work their way around a camera and snap some amazing selfies. Talk about impressive!” (Campbell). While all the images in the selection depict the embodied gestural sociality of the selfie that Frosh characterises – that which is “simultaneously mediating (the outstretched arm executes the taking of the selfie) and mediated (the outstretched arm becomes a legible and iterable sign within selfies of … the selfieness of the image)” (1611) – one in particular is arresting for its striking interpellation of the “innocent” figure of the child with what I will extend via Frosh to call the inherent mediality of her gestural gaze. In this iconic baby selfie, the gestural gaze is witnessed in the way that the baby’s outstretched hand seems to be extending towards us, the viewer, but is rather (we think we know) extended towards the phone camera, in order to better see herself.The infant in the image is coded female, wearing a pink bonnet, dummy clip and dummy. The dummy is centred defiantly in the baby’s mouth and doubly defiantly in the centre of the image frame as an infantile ‘technology’ that seems to undercut the technology of the phone camera apparatus. The dummy imbues the image with an iconic sense of the baby’s innate “baby-ness” which seems to directly contradict the strength of her gaze, which also appears, in following the outwards arc of her selfie-taking arm, to reach beyond the image frame and address her viewer directly. It seems to say – to paraphrase Frosh – see me here, now, showing you me. The ambivalent origins of the image are also key to how it is read and distributed here. The image in question can be found on the media site Woman’s World, which offers an untraceable credit to Instagram for its original source. The image has also, since, spread itself, appearing across a range of other multilingual sites and feeds, depicting the child at the centre of its frame as somewhat entangled in a further labour of self-duplication. The baby selfie in circulation says not only “‘see this, here, now,’” and “‘see me showing you me’,” but ‘see all of this here, and again, here and again, here.’John Berger writes of two related image genres that connect histories of vernacular depiction to histories of the evolution of the publicity image as a medium and sign of capital exchange. Writing on oil painting, he notes how the materiality of the medium signified the “thingness” of its depiction: “if you buy a painting you also buy a look of the thing that it represents” (83). He finds, therein, an “analogy between possessing and a way of seeing which is incorporated in oil painting” (83) and which, as he later explains, becomes tied to “the tangibility, the texture, the lustre, the solidity of what it depicts” (88). The textural qualities of oil painting, which for Berger construe the “real” as that which can be materially conveyed or indexed as commodity, might be compared to the gestural residue that is contained within the selfie. While oil painting construed the materiality of things – and hence, the commodifiable nature of any particular relation – the selfie might be seen to depict the self in the process of its own self-labour: the material gesture of taking the image necessitates that the self becomes an agent who then becomes the immaterial self of transmission. The selfie is in this way a depiction of the self in a form of capital relation to itself.While the selfie – as a digital composition – is not materially “real” in the same way that oil painting is, the indexical nature of the arm that reaches out beyond the image frame to point to the inherent transmissibility – and hence capital value – of the image, might be. While the baby selfie imitates these capacities, I suggest here that it also traces a compositional logic that further complicates that which Frosh charts. This is because in the very moment that the spectator of the image is confronted with the baby selfie’s call to “see me showing you me” (1609-10), the spectator is also confronted with the figure of the infant as an autonomous agent capable of their own image-constitution. In essence, the baby selfie posits a question around the baby’s innate ability to knowingly generate its image-frame, even as that very image-frame is what casts the infant into the spreadable contexts within which it will then operate – or, indeed, become ‘knowable’.In its heightened self-referentiality but tenuously depicted sense of rhetorical agency, the baby selfie then faces us with what we think we know, or do not know, about the figure of the child. This central ambivalence inherent to the compositional makeup of the baby selfie in this way both depicts and disrupts the economics of circulation that are intrinsic to selfies more broadly, pointing to a decomposing of the parameters by which a selfie is interpreted and understood. Further, it enables us to question relationships between ways of seeing and ways of being – how does the baby selfie envision the figure of the chid? What sort of human does it become? While there are valid discussions to be had around the absence of “direct self-representational agency” (Leaver) and moral rights or wrongs of the parental management of children’s image-work in online spaces, the baby selfie also opens up questions around how we understand the very contours of infantile agency, how we perceive rhetorical knowingness, and what we mean to mean by the relentless circulation of this imagery of the viral child. Indeed, as Wendy S. Hesford writes, it can be helpful to shift an understanding of agency from being an “individual enterprise” to being understood as that which is “enabled and constrained by cultural discourses and material forces” that compel it into material circulation (156).Here, I am not aiming to foreclose debates about the role of infants (or children more broadly) living with and in digital cultures. Neither do I aim to cast judgement upon on those image practices which enfold child subjects within them. I rather aim to circumvent those important debates to find – following Berger – a trace of how the image cultures that co-constitute digital infancies operate to formulate as well as depict a new field of vision that is predicated upon a seemingly impossible but nonetheless compelling logic of the contradictory impulses of the viral child. That is, it challenges us to think more carefully about what we think we know about children as well as about how we come to know them.ReferencesAbidin, Crystal. “#familygoals: Family Influencers, Calibrated Amateurism, and Justifying Young Digital Labor.” Social Media + Society (Apr.-June 2017): 1–15.Aries, Philippe. Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life. Trans. Robert Baldick. New York: Vintage, 1962.Barkham, Patrick. “Baby Hashtag: Has the Search for Original Names Gone Too Far?” The Guardian 29 Nov. 2012 <https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/shortcuts/2012/nov/28/baby-hashtag-silliest-name-ever>.Bayer, Joseph B., et al. “Sharing the Small Moments: Ephemeral Social Interaction on Snapchat.” Information, Communication & Society 19.7 (2016): 956–977.Berger, John. Ways of Seeing. London: Penguin Books, 1972.Bhabha, Jacqueline. “The Child: What Sort of Human?” PMLA 121.5 (2006): 1526–1535.Cartwright, Lisa. “Photographs of Waiting Children: The Transnational Adoption Market.” Social Text 74 21.1 (2003): 83–109.Campbell, Nakeisha. “12 of the Cutest Baby Selfies You Will Ever See.” Woman’s World, 22 June 2016. <http://www.womansworld.com/posts/funny-baby-selfies-106002/photos/cute-baby-selfie-4-167875>.Cox, Lauren. “‘Baby Selfie’ Phone App – Should Babies Really Be Taking Selfies?” Hollywoodlife.com, 28 Feb. 2014. <http://hollywoodlife.com/2014/02/28/baby-selfie-smartphone-app-babies-take-selfies/>.Dean, Jodi. Blog Theory: Feedback and Capture in the Circuits of Drive. Oxford: John Wiley & Sons, 2010.Edelman, Lee. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. Durham: Duke UP, 2004.Ellentv.com. “Baby Selfies.” <http://www.ellentv.com/photos/baby-selfies/>.French, Liam. “Researching Social Media and Visual Culture.” Social Media in Social Research: Blogs on Blurring the Boundaries. Ed. Kandy Woodfield. London: Sage, 2014. Frosh, Paul. “The Gestural Image: The Selfie, Photography Theory, and Kinesthetic Sociability.” International Journal of Communication 9 (2015): 1607–1628.Hesford, Wendy S. Spectacular Rhetorics: Human Rights Visions, Recognitions, Feminisms. Durham: Duke UP, 2011.Holiday, Steven, et al. “The Selfie Study: Archetypes and Motivations in Modern Self-Photography.” Visual Communication Quarterly 23.3 (2016): 175–187Jenkins, Henry, et al. Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Networked World. New York: NYUP, 2013.Lever, Tama. “Intimate Surveillance: Normalizing Parental Monitoring and Mediation of Infants Online.” Social Media + Society (Apr.-June 2017): 1–10.Lupton, Deborah. “Precious, Pure, Uncivilised, Vulnerable: Infant Embodiment in Australian Popular Media.” Children & Society 28.5 (2014): 341–351.Murray, Derek Conrad. “Notes to Self: The Visual Culture of Selfies in the Age of Social Media.” Consumption Markets & Culture 18.6 (2015): 490–516Nansen, Bjorn. “Accidental, Assisted, Automated: An Emerging Repertoire of Infant Mobile Media Techniques.” M/C Journal 18.5 (2015). <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1026>.Nye, James. “Did a Mother Really Just Name Her Child Hashtag?” Daily Mail Australia, 28 Nov. 2012. <http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2239599/Did-mother-really-just-child-Hashtag-Photo-baby-Twitter-inspired-sweeps-Internet.html>.Pelligrini, Ann. “What Do Children Learn at School?” Social Text 97 26.4 (2008): 97–105.Peppers, Margot. “Social Media for BABIES? The Dangling Mobile That Lets Newborns Post Selfies and Videos Online from the Crib.” Daily Mail Australia, 25 Oct. 2014. <http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2806761/Social-media-BABIES-dangling-mobile-lets-newborns-post-selfies-videos-online-crib.html>.Prout, Alan. “Taking a Step Away from Modernity: Reconsidering the New Sociology of Childhood.” Global Studies of Childhood 1.1 (2011): 4–14.Rushkoff, Douglas. Media Virus! New York: Ballantine Books, 1996.Senft, Theresa M., and Nancy K. Baym. “What Does the Selfie Say? Investigating a Global Phenomenon.” International Journal of Communication 9 (2015): 1588–1606.Walsh, Michael James, and Stephanie Alice Baker. ‘The Selfie and the Transformation of the Public–Private Distinction.” Information, Communication & Society 20.8 (2017): 1185–1203.Zelizer, Viviana. Pricing the Priceless Child: The Changing Social Value of Children. New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1994.
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Yolen, Jane. How do dinosaurs say I love you? New York: The Blue Sky Press, 2009.

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Yolen, Jane. How do dinosaurs say I love you? New York: Scholastic, 2011.

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Willems, Mo. I am going!: An Elephant & Piggie book. New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 2010.

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Willems, Mo. I am going!: An Elephant & Piggie book. New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 2010.

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Yolen, Jane, and Mark Teague. How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You? Scholastic, Incorporated, 2020.

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Yolen, Jane. Como dicen te quiero los dinosaurios? (Spanish Edition). Scholastic en Espanol, 2009.

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Yolen, Jane. How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You? HarperCollins Children's Books, 2010.

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Willems, Mo. I Am Going! Hyperion Books for Children, 2010.

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