Academic literature on the topic 'Yin-yang (dark - light)'

Underwater image restoration is a challenging problem because light is attenuated by absorption and scattering in water, which can degrade the underwater image. To restore the underwater image and improve its contrast and color saturation, a novel algorithm based on the underwater dark channel prior is proposed in this paper. First of all, in order to reconstruct the transmission maps of the underwater image, the transmission maps of the blue and green channels are optimized by the proposed first-order and second-order total variational regularization. Then, an adaptive model is proposed to improve the first-order and second-order total variation. Finally, to solve the problem of the excessive attenuation of the red channel, the transmission map of the red channel is compensated by Yin–Yang pair optimization. The simulation results show that the proposed restored algorithm outperforms other approaches in terms of the visual effects, average gradient, spatial frequency, percentage of saturated pixels, underwater color image quality evaluation and evaluation metric.

The universe was early divided into Earth below and Heaven above. These, two as one, gave the idea of opposites but forming a unity. Each opposite was assumed to be powerful and so was their final unity. For creation of the universe they projected reproduction to conceive creation. Now reproduction results in the union of two opposites as male and female. Correspondingly, the Chinese believed Light and Darkness, as the ideal opposites, when united, yielded creative energy. The two opposites were further conceived as matter and energy which became dual-natured but as one. The two opposites were yin-yang and their unity was called Chhi, Yin-Yang was treated separately in Chinese cosmology which consisted of five cosmic elements. Since Chinese alchemy did reach Alexandria probably the symbol Yin-Yang, as dual-natured, responsible for creation, was transformed into a symbol called Ouroboros, It is a snake and as such a symbol of soul. Its head and anterior portion is red, being the colour of blood as soul; its tail and posterior half is dark, representing body. Ouroboros here is depicted white and black, as soul and body, the two as "one which is all". It is cosmic soul, the source of all creation. Ouroboros is normally depicted with its anterior half as black but it should be the reverse as shown here. With the name Chemeia taken to Kim-Iya, the last word would take Ouroboros to Yin-Yang.

The purpose of the article is to provide a complex scientific description of traditional principles of Korean anthroponyms formation. An anthroponymic system is the reflection of national culture, therefore its description cannot be limited to linguistic analysis only, it should be carried out with the reference to ethnology, history, philosophy, theology and other disciplines. The history and culture of Korean peninsula countries is tightly connected with the history and culture of China with the onomastic system being no exception. Traditional principles of formation of Korean anthroponyms have Chinese origin. Basic philosophic concepts that influenced the name giving principles in the Korean language are the theory of the unity of the opposites Yin and Yang (음양 – 陰陽) and concept of five elements or Wuxing (오행 – 五行). It is believed that the main ideas of each of these theories being realized in the signs of a name have an impact on a person’s fate and define a person’s character. According to Yin and Yang theory, every sign in a name depending on its constituent elements is in correlation with one of the two opposites, male or female principles, light or dark, etc. Ideally a name should combine Yin and Yang, while the dominance of one principle and the absence of the other make the name lacking harmony. Wuxing concept is based on the assumption that every sign in a name is related to one of the fifth primary elements: fire, water, air, earth and metal. According to this theory a person’s name should have such a combination of elements that would bring harmony and not destruction. Initially both concepts were applied to ideographic signs and characters that constituted a traditional Korean name, nevertheless these principles are observed nowadays in the creation of Korean names without characters usage. This research has been carried out within the grant agreement “Establishment of the Center for Korean Studies at Irkutsk State University” with the support of the Korea International Exchange Foundation (KF-2021).

Abstract Abstract 5113 Photodynamic therapy (PDT) is a cancer therapeutic treatment that uses a compound called the “photosensitizer” and a particular type of visible light. When photosensitizers are exposed to a specific wavelength of light (600-800 nm), cytotoxic oxygen species are generated that kill cells (Dougherty, TJ et al., JNCI 90:889, 1998). Several clinical trials are currently underway to evaluate the use of PDT for a variety of cancers. A phase II study has been completed with photodynamic therapy in the treatment of patients with lymphoma or chronic lymphocytic leukemia. (NCT00054171). Recently, we have focused our attention about the properties of the photosensitizer Pheophorbide a (Pba), a chlorine, and its effects on different types of solid tumor cells (Rapozzi, V et al., Cancer Biol Ther 14:1318, 2009). The objective of the present study is to investigate the biochemical and molecular mechanisms by which PDT signals the B-NHL Raji lymphoma cell line (as model) and rendering the cells susceptible to both the cytotoxic mechanism of the tumor microenvironment in vivo or to the response to cytotoxic agents in vitro. We hypothesized that treatment of Raji cells with Pba/PDT in our in vitro system may result in the inhibition of resistance factors that regulate tumor cell responses to both chemotherapeutic and immunotherapeutic drugs. Our recent findings demonstrated that the constitutively overexpressed transcription factor Yin Yang 1 (YY1) regulates, in part, tumor cell resistance in lymphoma (Vega, MI et al., J Immun 175:2174, 2005). Accordingly, we examined whether treatment of Raji lymphoma cells with Pba/PDT will also result in the downregulation of YY1 expression and reverse resistance. The Raji cells were seeded at a cell density of 2×105/ml in Petri dishes. When the cells reached a 70% confluency, they were treated with different concentration (80-160-240 nM) of Pba for three hours in the dark and were then irradiated by an LED light source (640 nm at 12,7 mW for 9 min; 6.7 J/cm2). Following the light treatment, the cells were harvested at different times of incubation (18-36h) to assess apoptosis by the activation of caspase 3 using flow cytometry. In addition, different aliquots of cells were used to prepare slides for immunohistochemistry analyses. The results demonstrate that, indeed, treatment with Pba/PDT resulted in the inhibition of YY1 protein expression in Raji cells. By immunohistochemistry, PDT inhibited the basal nuclear and cytoplasmic expression of YY1 and resulted in weak cytoplasmic YY1 expression. The mechanism of YY1 inhibition might have been the result of PDT-mediated inhibition of NF-κB activity (Karmakar, S. et al., Neurosci lett 415: 242, 2007) since YY1 is transcriptionally regulated by NF-κB (Wang, H et al., Mol Cell Biol 67:4374, 2007). In addition, our preliminary findings demonstrate that treatment of drug-resistant tumor cells with PDT sensitizes the cells to drug-induced apoptosis. Overall, the data suggest that YY1 may be considered as a novel therapeutic target in PDT. Based on the findings here, we are currently examining the role of PDT in the dysregulation of the NF-κB/YY1/Snail/RKIP loop (Wu, K and Bonavida, B. Crit Rev Immun 29:241, 2009) that regulates cell survival and proliferation and resistance in lymphoma. (We acknowledge Doctors Oscar Stafsudd and Romaine Saxton for their assistance.) Disclosures: No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

When people say Shanghai looks like the future the setting is almost always the same. Evening descends and the skyscrapers clustered on the eastern shore of the Huangpu light up. Super towers are transformed into giant screens. The spectacular skyline, all neon and lasers and LED, looms as a science fiction backdrop. Staring out from the Bund, across to Pudong, one senses the reemergence of what JG Ballard once described as an “electric and lurid city, more exciting than any other in the world.” The high-speed development of Pudong – in particular the financial district of Lujiazui – is the symbol of contemporary Shanghai and of China’s miraculous rise. Yet, Pudong is also taken as a sign of much that is wrong with China’s new urbanism. To critics the sci-fi skyline is an emblem of the city’s shallowness, which focuses all attention on its glossy facade. Many share the sentiment of free market economist Milton Friedman who, when visiting Pudong famously derided the brand new spectacle as a giant Potemkin village. Nothing but “the statist monument for a dead pharaoh,” he is quoted as saying. This article explores Pudong in order to investigate the way spectacle functions in China’s most dynamic metropolis. It argues that the skeptical hostility towards spectacle is rooted in the particularities of a Western philosophical tradition that insists on penetrating the surface, associating falsity with darkness and truth with light. In contrast, China has long recognized the power of spectacle (most famously inventing gunpowder but using it only for fireworks). Alongside this comes an acceptance of a shadowy world that belongs to the dark. This acknowledgment of both darkness and light found in traditional Chinese culture (expressed by the constant revolutions of the yin/yang symbol) may provide an alternative method for thinking about the tension between the spectacular visions of planners and the unexpected and shadowy disruptions from the street.

The article deals with sound, music, and harmony as universals of the Chinese cultural code. The cultural code is the result of merging ideas concerning the ontological unity of the world, including the harmony of society, the state and the individual. These ideas permeate historical monuments, philosophical studies, artistic creativity, and the life of every person. At the time of ‘roots’ and ‘sources’, the Chinese worldview reveals in signs of the divine — Shen (神) and subtle, elegant — Miao (妙) evidence of the manifestation of the previously hidden Tao and the birth of meanings and categories of Chinese aesthetics. Their interaction is inseparable from sound and music, which at the initial stage manifest themselves as a rhythm of ontological action. Interconnected yin and yang (female and male; dark and light) are connected to it, complementing each other, enveloping the world with web of allusions. Thus, the “Chun-qiu” classic confirms that as a result, everything that exists, “finding its final form”, occupies a “certain space”, which has a “certain tone”. “The ancient kings were based on this in the establishment of music” (Luishi Chunqiu). So was born an idea of beauty as a harmony of He, equally significant for life and artistic creativity, including theater. The complex architectonics of Chinese theater is based on the laws of music and musical rhythm, according to which vocal lines, speech passages, conditioned by the tonal pronunciation norm, stage movement, rhythm of stage action, symbolic gesture, dance pattern combine, meaning that the theater is embodied not only in plot collisions, but also conveys the deepest meanings of Chinese ontology.

Introduction I am on the phone with a journalist discussing my research into anti-vaccination. As the conversation winds up, they ask a question I have come to expect: "how big do you think this is?" My answer is usually some version of the following: that we have no way of knowing. I and my fellow researchers can only see the information that is public or in the sunlight. How anti-vaccination information spreads through private networks is dark to us. It is private and necessarily so. This means that we cannot track how these conversations spread in the private or parochial spaces of Facebook, nor can we consider how they might extend into other modes of mediated communication. Modern communication is a complex and multiplatform accomplishment. Consider this: I am texting with my friend, I send her a selfie, in the same moment I hear a notification, she has DMed me a relevant Instagram post via that app. I move to Instagram and share another post in response; we continue our text message conversation there. Later in the day, I message her on Facebook Messenger while participating in a mutual WhatsApp group chat. The next day we Skype, and while we talk, we send links back and forth, which in hindsight are as clear as hieroglyphics before the Rosetta stone. I comment on her Twitter post, and we publicly converse back and forth briefly while other people like our posts. None of these instances are discrete conversational events, even though they occur on different platforms. They are iterations on the same themes, and the archival properties of social media and private messaging apps mean that neither of you forgets where you left off. The conversation slides not only between platforms and contexts but in and out of visibility. Digitally mediated conversation hums in the background of daily life (boring meetings, long commutes and bad dates) and expands our understanding of the temporal and sequential limits of conversation. In this article, I will explore digitally-mediated cross-platform conversation as a problem in two parts, and how we can understand it as part of the 'dark social'. Specifically, I want to draw attention to how 'dark' online spaces are part of our everyday communicative practices and are not necessarily synonymous with the illicit, illegal, or deviant. I argue that the private conversations we have online are also part of the dark social web, insofar as they are hidden from the public eye. When I think of dark social spaces, I think of what lies beneath the surface of murky waters, what hides behind in backstage areas, and the moments between platforms. In contrast, 'light' (or public) social spaces are often perceived as siloed. The boundaries between these platforms are artificially clean and do not appear to leak into other spaces. This article explores the dark and shadowed spaces of online conversation and considers how we might approach them as researchers. Conversations occur in the backchannels of social media platforms, in private messaging functions that are necessarily invisible to the researcher's gaze. These spaces are distinct from the social media activity analysed by Marwick and boyd. Their research examining teens' privacy strategies on social media highlights how social media posts that multiple audiences may view often hold encoded meanings. Social media posts are a distinct and separate category of activity from meditated conversations that occur one to one, or in smaller group chat settings. Second is the disjunction between social media platforms. Users spread their activity across any number of social media platforms, according to social and personal logics. However, these movements are difficult to capture; it is difficult to see in the dark. Platforms are not hermeneutically sealed off from each other, or the broader web. I argue that understanding how conversation moves between platforms and in the backstage spaces of platforms are two parts of the same dark social puzzle. Conversation Online Digital media have changed how we maintain our social connections across time and space. Social media environments offer new possibilities for communication and engagement as well as new avenues for control. Calls and texts can be ignored, and our phones are often used as shields. Busying ourselves with them can help us avoid unwanted face-to-face conversations. There are a number of critiques regarding the pressure of always-on contact, and a growing body of research that examines how users negotiate these demands. By examining group messaging, Mannell highlights how the boundaries of these chats are porous and flexible and mark a distinct communicative break from previous forms of mobile messaging, which were largely didactic. The advent of group chats has also led to an increasing complication of conversation boundaries. One group chat may have several strands of conversation sporadically re-engaged with over time. Manell's examination of group chats empirically illustrates the complexity of digitally-mediated conversations as they move across private, parochial, and public spaces in a way that is not necessarily temporally linear. Further research highlights the networked nature of digitally mediated interpersonal communication and how conversations sprawl across multiple platforms (Burchell). Couldry (16, 17) describes this complex web as the media manifold. This concept encompasses the networked platforms that comprise it and refers to its embeddedness in daily life. As we no longer “log on” to the internet to send and receive email, the manifold is both everywhere and nowhere; so too are our conversations. Gershon has described the ways we navigate the communicative affordances of these platforms as “media ideologies" which are the "beliefs, attitudes, and strategies about the media they [individuals] use" (391). Media ideologies also contain implicit assumptions about which platforms are best for delivering which kinds of messages. Similarly, Burchell argues that the relational ordering of available media technologies is "highly idiosyncratic" (418). Burchell contends that this idiosyncratic ordering is interdependent and relational, and that norms about what to do when are both assumed by individuals and learnt in their engagement with others (418). The influence of others allows us to adjust our practices, or as Burchell argues, "to attune and regulate one's own conduct … and facilitate engagement despite the diverse media practices of others" (418). In this model, individuals are constantly learning and renegotiating norms of conversation on a case by case, platform by platform basis. However, I argue that it is more illuminating to consider how we have collectively developed an implicit and unconscious set of norms and signals that govern our (collective) conduct, as digitally mediated conversation has become embedded in our daily lives. This is not to say that everyone has the same conversational skill level, but rather that we have developed a common toolbox for understanding the ebb and flow of digitally mediated conversations across platforms. However, these norms are implicit, and we only have a partial understanding of how they are socially achieved in digitally-mediated conversation. What Lies Beneath Most of what we do online is assumed not to be publicly visible. While companies like Facebook trace us across the web and peer into every nook and cranny of our private use patterns, researchers have remained focussed on what lies above in the light, not below, in the dark. This has meant an overwhelming focus on single platform studies that rely on the massification of data as a default measure for analysing sentiment and behaviour online. Sociologically, we know that what occurs in dark social spaces, or backstage, is just as important to social life as what happens in front of an audience (Goffman). Goffman's research uses the metaphor of the theatre to analyse how social life is accomplished as a performance. He highlights that (darkened) backstage spaces are those where we can relax, drop our front, and reveal parts of our (social) self that may be unpalatable to a broader audience. Simply, the public data accessible to researchers on social media are “trace data”, or “trace conversation”, from the places where conversations briefly leave (public) footprints and can be tracked and traced before vanishing again. Alternatively, we can visualise internet researchers as swabbing door handles for trace evidence, attempting to assemble a narrative out of a left-behind thread or a stray fingerprint. These public utterances, often scraped through API access, are only small parts of the richness of online conversation. Conversations weave across multiple platforms, yet single platforms are focussed on, bracketing off their leaky edges in favour of certainty. We know the social rules of platforms, but less about the rules between platforms, and in their darker spaces. Conversations briefly emerge into the light, only to disappear again. Without understanding how conversation is achieved and how it expands and contracts and weaves in and out of the present, we are only ever guessing about the social dynamics of mediated conversation as they shift between light, dark, and shadow spaces. Small things can cast large shadows; something that looms large may be deceptively small. Online they could be sociality distorted by disinformation campaigns or swarms of social bots. Capturing the Unseen: An Ethnomethodological Approach Not all data are measurable, computable, and controllable. There is uncertainty beyond what computational logics can achieve. Nooks and crannies of sociality exist beyond the purview of computable data. This suggests that we can apply pre-digital social research methods to capture these “below the surface” conversations and understand their logics. Sociologists have long understood that conversation is a social accomplishment. In the 1960s, sociologist Harvey Sacks developed conversation analysis as an ethnomethodological technique that seeks to understand how social life is accomplished in day-to-day conversation and micro-interactions. Conversation analysis is a detailed and systematic account of how naturally-occurring talk is socially ordered, and has been applied across a number of social contexts, including news interviews, judicial settings, suicide prevention hotlines, therapy sessions, as well as regular phone conversations (Kitzinger and Frith). Conversation analysis focusses on fine-grained detail, all of the little patterns of speech that make up a conversation; for example, the pauses, interruptions, self-corrections, false starts, and over-speaking. Often these too are hidden features of conversation, understood implicitly, but hovering on the edges of our social knowledge. One of the most interesting uses of conversational analysis is to understand refusal, that is, how we say 'no' as a social action. This body of research turns common-sense social knowledge – that saying no is socially difficult – into a systemic schema of social action. For instance, acceptance is easy to achieve; saying yes typically happens quickly and without hesitation. Acceptances are not qualified; a straightforward 'yes' is sufficient (Kitzinger and Frith). However, refusals are much more socially complex. Refusal is usually accomplished by apologies, compliments, and other palliative strategies that seek to cushion the blow of refusals. They are delayed and indirect conversational routes, indicating their status as a dispreferred social action, necessitating their accompaniment by excuses or explanations (Kitzinger and Frith). Research by Kitzinger and Frith, examining how women refuse sexual advances, illustrates that we all have a stock of common-sense knowledge about how refusals are typically achieved, which persists across various social contexts, including in our intimate relationships. Conversation analysis shows us how conversation is achieved and how we understand each other. To date, conversation analysis techniques have been applied to spoken conversation but not yet extended into text-based mediated conversation. I argue that we could apply insights from conversation analysis to understand the rules that govern digitally mediated conversation, how conversation moves in the spaces between platforms, and the rules that govern its emergence into public visibility. What rules shape the success of mediated communication? How can we understand it as a social achievement? When conversation analysis walks into the dark room it can be like turning on the light. How can we apply conversation analysis, usually concerned with the hidden aspects of plainly visible talk, to conversation in dark social spaces, across platforms and in private back channels? There is evidence that the norms of refusal, as highlighted by conversation analysis, are persistent across platforms, including in people's private digitally-mediated conversations. One of the ways in which we can identify these norms in action is by examining technology resistance. Relational communication via mobile device is pervasive (Hall and Baym). The concentration of digitally-mediated communication into smartphones means that conversational norms are constantly renegotiated, alongside expectations of relationship maintenance in voluntary social relationships like friendship (Hall and Baym). Mannell also explains that technology resistance can include lying by text message when explaining non-availability. These small, habitual, and often automatic lies are categorised as “butler lies” and are a polite way of achieving refusal in digitally mediated conversations that are analogous to how refusal is accomplished in face-to-face conversation. Refusals, rejections, and, by extension, unavailability appear to be accompanied by the palliative actions that help us achieve refusal in face-to-face conversation. Mannell identifies strategies such as “feeling ill” to explain non-availability without hurting others' feelings. Insights from conversation analysis suggest that on balance, it is likely that all parties involved in both the furnishing and acceptance of a butler lie understand that these are polite fabrications, much like the refusals in verbal conversation. Because of their invisibility, it is easy to assume that conversations in the dark social are chaotic and disorganised. However, there are tantalising hints that the reverse is true. Instead of arguing that individuals construct conversational norms on a case by case, platform by platform basis, I suggest that we now have a stock of common-sense social knowledge that we also apply to cross-platform mediated communication. In the spaces where gaps in this knowledge exist, Szabla and Blommaert argue that actors use existing norms of interactions and can navigate a range of interaction events even in online environments where we would expect to see a degree of context collapse and interactional disorganisation. Techniques of Detection How do we see in the dark? Some nascent research suggests a way forward that will help us understand the rhythms of cross-platform mediated conversation. Apps have been used to track participants' messaging and calling activities (Birnholtz, Davison, and Li). This research found a number of patterns that signal a user's attention or inattention, including response times and linguistic clues. Similarly, not-for-profit newsroom The Markup built a Facebook inspector called the citizen browser, a "standalone desktop application that was distributed to a panel of more than 1000 paid participants" (Mattu et al.). The application works by being connected to a participant's Facebook account and periodically capturing data from their Facebook feeds. The data is automatically deidentified but is still linked to the demographic information that participants provide about themselves, such as gender, race, location, and age. Applications like these point to how researchers might reliably collect interaction data from Facebook to glimpse into the hidden networks and interactions that drive conversation. User-focussed data collection methods also help us, as researchers, to sever our reliance on API access. API-reliant research is dependent on the largesse of social media companies for continued access and encourages research on the macro at the micro's expense. After all, social media and other digital platforms are partly constituted by the social acts of their users. Without speech acts that constitute mediated conversation, liking, sharing GIFs, and links, as well as the gaps and silences, digital platforms cease to exist. Digital platforms are not just archives of “big data”, but rather they are collections of speech and records of how our common-sense knowledge about how to communicate has stretched and expanded beyond face-to-face contexts. A Problem of Bots Ethnomethodological approaches have been critiqued as focussing too much on the small details of conversation, on nit-picking small details, and thus, as unable to comment on macro social issues of oppression and inequality (Kitzinger and Frith 311). However, understanding digitally-mediated conversation through the lens of talk-as-human-interaction may help us untangle our most pressing social problems across digital platforms. Extensive research examines platforms such as Twitter for “inauthentic” behaviour, primarily identifying which accounts are bots. Bots accounts are programmed Twitter accounts (for example) that automatically tweet information on political or contentious issues, while mimicking genuine engagement. Bots can reply to direct messages too; they converse with us as they are programmed to act as “humanly” as possible. Despite this, there are patterns of behaviour and engagement that distinguish programmed bot accounts, and a number of platforms are dedicated to their detection. However, bots are becoming increasingly sophisticated and better able to mimic “real” human engagement online. But there is as yet no systematic framework regarding what “real” digitally mediated conversation looks like. An ethnomethodological approach to understanding this would better equip platforms to understand inauthentic activity. As Yang and colleagues succinctly state, "a supervised machine learning tool is only as good as the data used for its training … even the most advanced [bot detection] algorithms will fail with outdated training datasets" (8). On the flipside, organisations are using chat bots to deliver cognitive behavioural therapy and assist people in moments of psychological distress. But the bots do not feel human; they reply instantly to any message sent. Some require responses in the form of emojis. The basis of therapy is talk. Understanding more accurately how naturally-occurring talk functions in online spaces could create more sensitive and genuinely therapeutic tools. Conclusion It is easy to forget that social media have largely mainstreamed over the last decade; in this decade, crucial social norms about how we converse online have developed. These norms allow us to navigate our conversations, with intimate friends and strangers alike across platforms, both in and out of public view, in ways that are often temporally non-sequential. Dark social spaces are a matter of intense marketing interest. Advertising firm Disruptive Advertising identified the very spaces that are the focus of this article as “dark social”: messaging apps, direct messaging, and native mobile apps facilitate user activity that is "not as easily controlled nor tracked". Dark social traffic continues to grow, yet our understanding of why, how, and for whom trails behind. To make sense of our social world, which is increasingly indistinguishable from online activity, we need to examine the spaces between and behind platforms, and how they co-mingle. Where are the spaces where the affordances of multiple platforms and technologies scrape against each other in uncomfortable ways? How do users achieve intelligible conversation not just because of affordances, but despite them? Focussing on micro-sociological encounters and conversations may also help us understand what could build a healthy online ecosystem. How are consensus and agreement achieved online? What are the persistent speech acts (or text acts) that signal when consensus is achieved? To begin where I started, to understand the scope and power of anti-vaccination sentiment, we need to understand how it is shared and discussed in dark social spaces, in messaging applications, and other backchannel spaces. Taking an ethnomethodological approach to these conversational interactions could also help us determine how misinformation is refused, accepted, and negotiated in mediated conversation. Focussing on “dark conversation” will help us more richly understand our social world and add much needed insight into some of our pressing social problems. References Burchell, Kenzie. 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