Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Aphrodite (Greek deity) in art"

This article engages three deities, one Greek and two Oriental, that their cults were worshipped in caves during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. The first deity is a Hellenistic terracotta figurine of Aphrodite, recovered from the prehistoric cave Me‘arat ha-Nahal (Wadi el-Maghara) at the foot of Mount Carmel. It probably represents Aphrodite Pandemos (Ἀϕροδίτη Πάνδημος) or Aphrodite en Kepois (Ἀϕροδίτη ἐν Κήποις). It may be assumed that the cave, and its proximity to the city of Dor, was modified to serve as a cultic site or shrine. The second deity is represented by a sunken relief engraved on a rough rock surface adjacent to a cluster of 18 caves, known as “The Temple Cave” complex, along Keziv Stream (Nahal Keziv) in western Galilee. The largest and main cave in this complex seems to have had a cultic function in the Roman period, that is, it constituted a cultic site for a particular divinity. The sunken relief depicts a walking male military figure, dubbed “The Man in the Wall.” Based on a comparative study and the figure’s iconographic characteristics, we may identify it with Sol Invictus Mithras, a Late Roman-period deity, manifesting cultic pagan activity in a remote and isolated area, in the very heart of nature. The third deity is Ba‘al Carmel (identified with Zeus/Jupiter) who was presumably worshipped in Elijah’s Cave on the western slope of Mt. Carmel. Ba‘al Carmel’s visual representation, the depiction of a libation vessel and the presumed figure of a priest or, alternatively, an altar within an aedicula suggest it was used in the Roman period. Notably, one of the Greek inscriptions, dated to the Roman period, explicitly addresses the cave’s sacred nature and the prohibition against its profanation.

The cult of Moirai/ Moerae, their iconography, and the popular faith concerning the goddesses of destiny in the Greek colonies on the western shore of the Pontus Euxinus make the subject of the present study. Our research is based on the study of epigraphic, literary, and archeaological (votive bas‑reliefs) documents. The cult of the Moirai is certainly certificated in Naulochos (the modern Obzor, in Bulgaria) and at Istros where two dedications to the goddesses of destiny were found out. A votive aedicula in the temple of Aphrodite at Istros proves the relations between the Moirai and the cult of Aphrodite. The association of the Moirai with Aphrodite is confirmed by the two reliefs discovered at Panticapaion and Tyras, which present a similar composition with the one on the votive relief at Istros. The funeral epitaphs found out along the western shore of the Pontus Euxinus underline the Greeks’popular creeds related to the goddesses of destiny.

The study is devoted to the origins of the cult of Venus of Eryx, whose temple was erected on the Capitol during the Hannibal War. After analyzing the sources, the author studied both the specific historical context of the establishment of a new cult, and the connection of the new deity with various hypostases of Venus, which became widespread in the territory of ancient Italy. The author associated the creation of the cult of Venus Erucina, firstly, with victories during the struggle between Rome and Carthage and, secondly, with an attempt to integrate Rome into the cultural space of the Greek world, since Venus was identified with Aphrodite. The scientific novelty of the undertaken study lies in the fact that the author, taking into account the famous senatusconsultum on bacchanalia, put forward a hypothesis about the conduct in 186-184 BC by the Porcii clan and their allies, a kind of religious reform, which made it possible, on the one hand, to preserve the Greek traditions of the veneration of Venus of Eryx, and on the other hand, to “cleanse” the cult of Venus Capitoline from foreign influences.

In this article, I trace the various ways Ancient Greek artisans used seashell-motifs, and how they interpreted these natural forms in artistic contexts. The reason for the popularity of seashells lies in their visual and haptic variety, their wealth of association, and the device of something secret hidden under the hard outer shell. I examine three possible variants of the motif’s treatment in relief and volume: the shell-container as part of a vessel, the shell as an independent container, the shell as a sculpted motif on a vessel. Of particular interest are the vases where the integration of shell and vessel is especially marked, such as plastic aryballoi, lekythoi and other types (often with the inclusion of mythological subjects, such as the birth of Aphrodite). Terracotta and metal pyxides are also considered. Alongside these, I examine the rare “marble shells”, stone vessels carved in the intricate shape of “pelican’s foot” shells.

Lucian of Samosata’s descriptions of works of art are invaluable for the studying of the Classical and post-Classical Greek sculpture. The Second Sophistic author does not only give accurate and detailed descriptions about Greek sculptures and paintings, but as a real connoisseur of art he also judges them from the perspective of aesthetics. In the first main part of my paper, I will focus on the characteristics of his descriptions by analyzing the nude figure of Aphrodite of Cnidus made by Praxiteles and the ‘eclectic’ portrait of Panthea. The aim of the second part of my paper is to present the essential features of Ekphraseis of the sophist Callistratus who lived in Late Antiquity (IV–Vth century AD). It has been disputed if Callistratus’ work inspired by the rhetorical exercises has any art history values. This paper also raises the question how the tradition of both Lucian and Callistratus could influence the description of the sculpture ‘Apollo Belvedere’ included in Winckelmann's epoch-making Art History.

The Sandal-Binder Aphrodite, a witty variation on Praxiteles’ Aphrodite of Knidos, is one of the most frequently reproduced sculptural types in Greco-Roman art. Created in a variety of materials throughout the Mediterranean, extant versions of this iconography show the goddess in the act of tying (or possibly untying) her sandal. Although a large number of these works of art date between the first and fourth century CE, most studies on the Sandal-Binder have approached it primarily as an expression of Hellenistic Greek artistic trends. The present study shifts our attention away from the cultural milieu of the Sandal-Binder’s creation to that of its reception. Two well-preserved examples—one from a house in Pompeii and the other from London—attest to the process of translating or adapting this sensual image of Aphrodite to a Roman ideological framework. In both cases, it is through the language of body adornment that this transformation is achieved: while the example from Pompeii (a marble statuette adorned with gold paint) shows the goddess wearing contemporary jewelry and clothing, the diminutive silver figurine from London is part of a fashionable hairpin that points to the dissemination of imperial hairstyles in Rome’s remotest province. By calling attention to their design and function, this essay highlights the complex polysemy of Roman Sandal-Binders and the powerful messages they communicated to a diverse audience of viewers both at the heart of the empire and in the provinces.

The states on the territory of Georgia were part of the Classical antiquity ecumene. Accordingly, both Iberia and Colchis had close trade-economic and cultural relations with the Roman Empire, from where the deities popular in the empire spread to the territory of Georgia. Among them, a special place is occupied by the ancient god of victory, Nike (Ancient Greek: Νίκη). The name Nike is believed to date back to the pre- Greek period. In Greek mythology, Nike appears as a companion of Zeus and Athena. In Greek art, the deity is mainly depicted with symbols of victory – wings, a crown and a palm branch, but we also find a wingless Nike. In Roman reality, the Victoria (Latin: Victoria) corresponded to Nike. Research has shown that the deity Nike (Victoria) was one of the most widespread cults in late ancient Iberia, which is the result of political and cultural relations with the Greco-Roman world. In late antiquity, the cult of Nike (Victoria) was recorded on the territory of Georgia in the Kingdom of Kartli (Iberia) – on the territory of Greater Mtskheta, Urbnisi, Zhinvali... Since the Hellenistic period, religious syncretism was also reflected on the engraved gems found on the territory of Kartli. Athena-Tikhe-Fortuna- Demeter-Nike depicted in an oval-shaped cornelian intaglio in a fragment of an iron ring. Tomb №27 of Karniskhevi, 2nd-3rd centuries. Nike-Fortuna-Athena is depicted in an oval-shaped white, transparent glass intaglio in an iron seal. Urbnisi necropolis. Tomb №205. 1st-early 2nd century AD. Seals with the image of the deity Nike (Victoria) found in the territory of Georgia belonged to all layers of society. Gemas can be found both individually and in gold, silver and bronze rings. Intaglios with the image of the deity are made of: carnelian, glas, almadine, which are inserted into iron, bronze, silver and gold rings. It is noteworthy that the cult of Nike (Victoria) is mainly prevalent in urban centers. From the above, we can conclude that Nike (Victoria) was popular and in our opinion, mainly among the Romanized population.

This paper discusses how Roman visual culture might be useful for deciphering the ecphrastic passages of the ancient Greek novel. Whereasecphrasishas been one of the blossoming topics in the field, the examination of novelisticecphrasisalongside particular works of art is still a desideratum. As a test case I will use Xenophon of Ephesus’ecphrasisof the bed canopy depicting Ares’ and Aphrodite's embrace, in theEphesiaca,a novel that might have been written as early as AD 65. In what follows I will argue that the scene described on the canopy would have stimulated a variety of intertexts, both literary and visual, in the minds of the imperial audience: that is, Xenophon's reader would have been encouraged to recall not just Demodocus’ song of the love of Ares and Aphrodite but also the idealised Roman version of the myth, which was so frequently depicted on frescoes and mosaics in Roman villas in the first century. I then explore Xenophon's ‘interpretatio Romana’through the adaptations of the Ares and Aphrodite myth found in Plutarch and Lucian.

AbstractThere is very little direct representation of acts of creation in Greek art. This paper examines the visual potential of the extended creation narrative first related by Hesiod, focusing on the handful of episodes which are to be found in the visual arts—the births of Aphrodite and Athene, Zeus's slaying of Typhon and the Gigantomachy—while attempting to account for their selection. It also considers the remarkable lack of an authoritative account of the creation of mankind in the archaic and classical periods, and the relatively late development of Prometheus's role as man's creator, which contrasts with the much earlier establishment of traditions concerning local “first men” and the creation of the first woman, Pandora.

<p>In 1747 Frederick II of Prussia acquired a rare and highly valuable statue from antiquity and gave it the description of Antinous (the ill-fated lover of the Roman Emperor Hadrian). Although the bronze statue had always been accepted as an original from ancient Greece, the statue eventually assumed the identity of the Roman Antinous. How could Frederick II, an accomplished collector, ignore the blatant style and chronological discrepancies to interpret a Greek statue as a later Roman deity? This article will use the portraiture of Antinous to facilitate an examination of the progression of classical art interpretation and diagnose the freedom between the art historian and the dilettante. It will expose the necessary partition between the obligations of the art historian to provide technical interpretations of a work within the purview of the discipline with that of the unique interpretation made by individual viewers. This article confirms that although Frederick II lived before the transformative scholarship of Winckelmann, the freedom of interpreting a work is an abiding and intrinsic right of every individual viewer. </p>

In this paper, we will discuss the worship of fertility goddesses around the world and how these practices inform female figures as they appear in Western art. Aphrodite, or Venus, is a key figure in our discussion. In this study, we will focus on her origin, figures, and characteristics. We will also investigate female images from the later time when Europe became a fully patriarchal society. These images evidenced a shift from a muscular and curvaceous body to a soft and submissive-looking one. Once the feminist movement was underway, images from the ancient Greek and Roman period were revived and reemerged in new ways. In this paper, we’ll use Rosie the Riveter as a modern example for study. As the message and intent of artists throughout history makes clear: the ancient goddess’s expression of “Heroic Femininity” is still full of life in today’s context. Venus, the goddess of love, sex, justice, and fertility, created with a body to be desired by man, has become, in a new world setting – a beacon for women’s equal rights and freedom.

AbstractBetween 1982 and 1996 a group of rock-cut votive reliefs was discovered during archaeological survey in Pisidia under the direction of Stephen Mitchell and the sponsorship of the British Institute (of Archaeology) at Ankara. The types represented include a horseman deity, perhaps Kakasbos, the Dioscuri with ‘goddess’ and the moon-god Men. The reliefs are discussed according to their cults and iconography, and their contribution to art and religion both locally and beyond. As a religious phenomenon, they are further considered in relation to both regional traditions and empire-wide practices. It is suggested that reliefs of this type, that are associated with the protection of mortals, should also be viewed as part of the history of devotional art and added to discussions of rock art that extend beyond the Greek and Roman worlds. A detailed catalogue of the reliefs, organised by iconographic type, concludes the article.

AbstractExcavations since the 1920s show the presence in Olbia of two sacred areas (temene), East and West, divided by a main street. The author's excavations of the Western temenos reveal what was probably the earliest sanctuary, of the sixth century, followed at the end of that century by a stone temple dedicated to Apollo Ietros, guardian deity of the city. The sanctuary can be shown to have been considered a sacred area right down to the end of the city's history. The excavation of a sanctuary of Cybele, dated from at least the 2nd half of the 6th c. B.C., refutes earlier views that situated it on the E. temenos. Also found was a sanctuary of Hermes and Aphrodite with a 3rd c. B.C. temple. The presence of a sanctuary of the Dioscuri can be shown from dedications but its site cannot yet be pinpointed. Altars found on the West temenos can be classified as rectangular, round and primitive. Intact ash piles have also been analyzed. Many bothroi were found, including reused water cisterns. Their contents included masses of ceramic material (Attic pottery, local grey-ware and other East Greek ware), Olbian dolphin and arrowhead coins, votive offerings, ostraca and an abundance of architectural terracotta. It is clear that from the foundation of the city a considerable area of its urban area was assigned to sanctuaries and that this area remained the focus of the religious life of the Olbian state throughout its existence.

In 1979, during his continuing excavation of the city of Aphrodisias, Professor K. T. Erim discovered a large temple and sanctuary complex dedicated to Aphrodite and the Julio-Claudian emperors (theTheoi Sebastoi). It had a remarkable sculptural display of which much has survived—there are about eighty relief panels. The complex would probably have been called a Sebasteion: we know from an unrelated inscription that there was one at Aphrodisias. It is of great interest to both the historian and art-historian of the early empire, giving a rare combination of buildings, sculpture, and inscriptions from a unified excavated context and providing an unrivalled picture of the physical setting of the imperial cult in a Greek city. The sculptured reliefs give a great range and combination of iconography quite unexpected in such a context—mythological, allegorical, and imperial. The myth panels seem to offer a missing link between the iconographic repertoire of the Hellenistic world and that used under the Roman empire, while the allegorical and imperial panels give a detailed plcture of the emperor and Rome as seen from the Greek East that is not available elsewhere.

Series of provinces and peoples were something new in Roman art. They were a distinctively Roman way of representing their empire visually, and reflect a distinctively Roman and imperial mode of thought. Such images are most familiar to us in sculpture from the reliefs that decorated the temple of Hadrian in Rome, and on coins from the ‘province’ series of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius. We know, however, from various written sources that extensive groups of personified peoples were made at Rome under Augustus. Recently, the discovery of such a series in relief at Aphrodisias, there called ethne (peoples), allows us for the first time to see what an early imperial group of this kind looked like. The new reliefs were part of the elaborate decoration of a temple complex, probably called a Sebasteion, dedicated to Aphrodite Prometor and the Julio-Claudian emperors. I have already published in this journal the reliefs with imperial scenes, which portray the Roman emperor from a Greek perspective. This article publishes the ethne reliefs which, it will be argued, set out to reproduce or adapt in a much more direct manner an Augustan monument in Rome. The use of an Augustan-style ‘province’ series in Asia Minor is a telling illustration both of some of the mechanisms in the transmission of imperial art and of a Greek city's identification with the Roman government's view of its empire.

Marble statuettes, now in the Lamia Archaeological Museum, that date to the Classical and above all the Hellenistic periods, and a Hellenistic votive relief depicting Herakles are presented here. This study investigates the relations between the local workshop in central Greece which produced them and the major Classical and Hellenistic sculptural centres of Athens and of the Aegean islands, Asia Minor and the kingdoms of the Greek East generally. A marble statuette of a goddess which may represent Artemis from Melitaia, and a marble statuette of a seated girl of unknown provenance are dated to the Classical period. The subjects portrayed in the Late Hellenistic material show a typical repertory, marble statuettes of Aphrodite or Aphrodite-like figures, and a statuary group of Eros and Psyche in marble, unusual for this period. The ways in which the local sculptors of the Late Hellenistic period in the area of modern Phthiotis adopted the typological and stylistic trends current in the great cosmopolitan centres are a major concern here. In the Hellenistic period, the production of marble statuettes for making offerings at public and domestic sanctuaries and for decorating opulent villas was in vogue, and a common formal language was created especially for small-scale sculpture in the eastern Mediterranean and the new art markets of Italy. The vehicles by which these artistic influences were transmitted to the sculptural production of central Greece will also be investigated.

The city of Aphrodisias (Aphrodisias; ) was situated in the continental inland of the Caria region in the south-west of Asia Minor. This town flourished in the Hellenistic period and the time of the Pergamon-Attalid dynasty that ruled Asia Minor from 282 to 133 BC. It was during this period that the city was named after the goddess Aphrodite (Venus in Roman religion) who had a very specific cult image in this city. Aphrodisias got its special symbolic meaning with the establishment of the Principate and the “first amongst the citizens”, Octavian Augustus, who was adopted into the gens Julia. One of the main propaganda elements of the new Augustan regime was a strong reliance on the “Aeneid story” that got its official version with Virgil’s Aeneid. Aeneas was the son of Trojan prince Anchises and Venus, whereas in Roman-Italic tradition, his son Ascanius/Iulus is considered to be an eponymous founder of the gens Julia. By advocating the “Aeneid story”, Augustus gave an emphasis to his divine origin, and Venus/Aphrodite became a deity of “special importance” for the new system. Aphrodisias was a city with many monumental facilities and buildings, statues and reliefs. The quality and amount of marble which the citizens and craftsmen in Aphrodisias had at their disposal resulted in a large number of inscriptions. Approximately 2000 epigraphic monuments have been discovered up to this point, the majority being from the Principate. Some of the monumental buildings of Aphrodisias are: 1. The temple of Aphrodite, the focal point of the entire city, transformed into a Christian basilica in Late Antiquity 2. Monumental tetrapylon 3. Bouleuterion ( ) or odeon 4. Stadium 5. Augusteum (Sebasteion, on the Greek east) containing personi- fied representations of Illyrian peoples and communities on relief The reliefs on Augusteum show the images of Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius and young Nero. The complex itself is dedicated to “To Aphrodite, the Divine Augusti and the People”. Originally it contained 190 reliefs. Iconography and reliefs can be organized into four groups divided into top and bottom lines of southern and northern temple portico: I Southern portico: the top line contained the personification of principes and deities; the bottom line contained images of old Hellenic mythology. II Northern portico: the top line contained allegories (and perhaps principes); the bottom line contained a series of ethne, i.e. the images of peoples. Each ethne was represented by a personified relief statue on a decorated base with an inscription. Relief statues were always in the form of a dressed standing girl. To this point, four statues and inscriptions have been identified for four peoples from the Illyrian territory: the Iapodes, Andizetes, Pirustae and Dardani. All four of these Illyrian peoples are mentioned by well-known and accessible source materials as the communities who were subdued by the armies commanded by Octavian Augustus after rebelling. A large number of sculptures or parts of the sculptures has not been ethnonymically identified with certainty due to damage and material fragmentation. Thus, we can assume that they hold hidden personifications or at least parts of personifications of other Illyrian peoples. The western part contained personifications of Illyrian peoples, and judging by their arrangement, peoples from the western Balkans may have been located somewhere in the vicinity.

We all secretly venerate the ideal of a language which in the last analysis would deliver us from language by delivering us to things.M. Merleau-Ponty,The Prose of the WorldIn a study published some years ago, J.-P. Vernant drew attention to the fundamental distinction Greek thought makes between spoken and all other modes of divination. It is a difference that reflects certain givens of ancient social and political structure, and that has its roots in the marked orientation of Greek society towards open discourse. What he has in mind as a paradigm of oral divination is the question-and-answer format of many ancient oracles. He argues that this provides far more direct and more ‘democratic’ access to the will of deity or the way of things than do styles of consultation dependent on interpretative schemes which, because of their indirect nature, are accessible only to a small and privileged group. The fine art of pyromancy, for instance, deploys a framework of transformational rules and techniques whose complexity removes the interpretation of ‘fire signs’ (empura sēmata) from the realm of ordinary skills and makes it instead the special province of a priestly caste, such as that of the Iamidai at Olympia.

‘It's such a pity that we don't haveAnything like a photographOf her about whom the ancients rave …’…Fragments, copies, our museums still holdOf statues she modelled, or so we're told(from Phryne by Robert Conquest, 2000)Phryne, the celebrity hetaira who is said to have lived and loved some time during the fourth century BCE, was reputed to be ‘by far the most phenomenal of the hetairai’ (ἐπιφανεστάτη πολὺ τῶν ἑταίρων). This article aims to examine the anecdotes told about Phryne and argues that collectively they constitute a discourse on viewing that illuminates a significant aspect of the production and interpretation of art: the ethical and aesthetic problems involved (for the artist, subject, model and other viewers) in making and describing naturalistic art, especially that which represents the gods. A rich repertoire of written material on Phryne, and on the statue of the Aphrodite of Cnidus for which she was said to have been the model, has survived, although mostly by later rather than contemporary writers. Among the descriptions of the statue there is a group of epigrams collected in the Greek Anthology whose authorship and dating are largely uncertain. On Phryne we have accounts and imaginative scenarios in Alciphron, Lucian and Pausanias, all presumed to be writing in the second century CE; Athenaeus, who most probably wrote in the third century CE; and quotations from earlier writers.

The Morning of a Lady of the Manor (1823) by Alexey Venetsianov embodies a veiled polemic of the artist with representatives of the academic school of painting concerning the academic method. The work demonstrates not only the painter’s credo, but also his possible steps on adjusting the educational system of the Imperial Academy of Arts. He occupied an intermediate position between the supporters of mindless copying of nature and the banal poses of classical statues. Here, he tried to prove the fruitfulness of the true academic method of creating a composition based on the characters (types) of “graceful nature”, the storehouse of which was the art of his famous predecessors. The work contains references to notable images of the indisputable authorities of academic classicism: Raphael Santi and Anton Raphael Mengs. The ancient art is also presented here both by a statuette of the Crouching Venus and its pictorial recreation: a peasant woman in the same attitude. The images which had served as the basis for Venetsianov’s visual metaphors were well-known to the professors of the Academy because they were literally right before their eyes — in the Hermitage. The picture by Venetsianov, on the one hand, demonstrates his commitment to academic values, first of all to сlassical art that had inspired both Raphaels as well as Winckelmann, an outstanding theorist of neoclassicism. Behind Venetsianov’s figures, we can also see the images of those “three Greek Venuses”, about which he later wrote in his theoretical notes Something about the perspective: Aphrodite Medici, Venus of Taurida (which in fact hides the type of Venus of Milo) and the Crouching Venus. On the other hand, the amazing skill of animating ancient statues by assimilating them into painting à la Natura was meant to attest to the real truth of his artistic method.

Специфика северопонтийского дионисийства рассматривается как обусловленная фракийскими влияниями: в Ольвии о них прежде всего свидетельствуют орфические таблички, на Боспоре — исключительная популярность в местной нумизматике заимствованных из Фракии изображений сатиров, культ Диониса Арея, а также необычный образ хтонического Диониса на погребальных пеликах. На Боспоре и в Херсонесе к кругу этого бога относился родственный ему фрако-фригийский бог Сабазий. Сочетание на монетах Пантикапея образов сатиров на аверсе с аполлиническим грифоном на реверсе позволяет предполагать синкретизм Диониса и Аполлона в религии боспорян, причём в контексте орфических верований. На Боспоре с дионисийским кругом ассоциируется не только целый ряд богов, культово близких Дионису и в других областях греческого мира (Деметра, Кора, Геракл, Афродита, Эрот), но и далёких от него мифологических персонажей (Парис, Европа и др.). Находки в курганах скифской и синдской знати разнообразных вещей, часто культового назначения, с изображениями персонажей дионисийского круга свидетельствуют о близости последних религиозно-мифологическим представлениям варваров. К этому кругу относится и фигурирующий на ряде памятников мужской двойник змееногой ипостаси Великой богини («Владыка зверей»), который, как и другие дионисийские персонажи, мыслился как подчиненное ей божество. The article is devoted to the peculiarities of the cult of Dionysus in the Greek colonies of the Northern Black Searegion, as well as the specificities of Dionysianism among local barbarians. These features were largely due to Thracian influences: in Olbia, they are primarily evidenced by Orphic tablets, in the Bosporus — the exceptional popularity in local numismatics of images of satyrs borrowed from Thrace, the cult of Dionysus Ares, as well as the unusual image of the chthonic Dionysus on funeral pelicеs. Both in the Bosporus and in Chersonesus, the Thraco-Phrygian god Sabazios, who was close to Dionysus in function, belonged to the circle of this god. On the coins of Panticapaeum, the combination of images of satyrs on the obverse with an Apollinian griffin on the reverse enables suggestion of the fusion of Dionysus and Apollo in the context of Orphic beliefs as well as in the religion of the Bosporans. In the Bosporus, the Dionysian circle is associated not only with a number of gods close to the cult of Dionysus in other areas of the Greek world (Demeter, Kore, Heracles, Aphrodite, and Eros), but also mythological characters not associated with him (Paris, Europa, etc.). Finds in the burial mounds of the Scythian and Sindian nobility of various cult-related artifacts, often with images of characters of the Dionysian circle, indicate the closeness of the latter to the religious and mythological ideas of the barbarians. This circle also includes the male counterpart of the snake-footed hypostasis of the Great Goddess (‘Master of Beasts’), which appears on several monuments and which, like other Dionysian characters, was thought of as a subordinate deity to her.

Abstract This study focuses on an Attic red-figure kylix excavated in a North Etruscan ritual context at a major sanctuary site in the Mugello region at Poggio Colla. Attributed to the Painter of the Paris Gigantomachy (490–460 B. C. E.), the kylix depicts youths boxing. Careful excavation of the site over 20 years allows detailed presentation here of the votive context for the kylix and thus supports a plausible hypothesis for how it was integrated into rituals marking the transition from the first monumental stone temple to its successor at the site, sometime in the late fifth-early fourth century. Placing the kylix in the oeuvre of the painter, his workshop output, and its appearance in Etruria demonstrates that the shape and subject matter were well known to Etruscan audiences; discussion of the relationship of the Attic boxers to imagery in Etruscan tomb painting, black-figure silhouette style pottery, and funerary reliefs reveals links to and differences from Etruscan renderings of similar subject matter. Conclusions confirm the role of the Attic kylix in Etruscan ritual and establish the familiarity of the iconography of the kylix to Etruscan audiences. Although one of the tinas cliniiar, Etruscan Pultuce and Greek Pollux, is identified in fourth-century Etruscan art as an outstanding boxer, this study reveals no obvious link between the imagery on the kylix and the major deity honored at the site, very likely the goddess Uni.

In 2018, some tombs that belonged to early Tibetan-related elites at the site of Dulan (Qinghai, China) were disturbed by looters’ activity. One of the gold objects confiscated by local police officers displays a curious composite creature that could be called a winged ichthyocentaurus or triton. This creature includes the torso of a dressed man with a beribboned crown holding a rhyton-like horn and a coiled fish tail. This article discusses the possible function and meaning of this type of composite creatures that appear also on some artifacts from Central Asian archaeological sites and Sino-Sogdian funerary monuments. The iconography of the hybrid creatures seems to be rooted in Greek art. Sogdians possibly transmitted it to the Tibetan Plateau along the so-called Silk Road in the 7th-8th cc. The horn held by the creature is reminiscent of one attribute of the ancient Chinese wind god “Feng Bo” (风伯, “Master of the Wind”) that has been depicted in the funerary milieu since the Han period (202 B.C.-220 A.D.) because of its association with immortality. This object could allow us to identify the iconography of the Sogdian wind deity Weshparkar (Avestan Vayu) who sometimes had a “wind blowing horn” like in the Dulan gold plaque. The study of this specific detail could help to shed light on the multicultural background of early Tibetan societies that definitely had contacts with Central Asia and China along the Silk Road trading network.

The Greek deity Dionysos had a particular affinity for war galleys, a relationship perhaps explained by the Homeric Hymn to Dionysos in which Tyrsenian pirates kidnap him on their galley. Soon grape vines entangle the rigging and some of the pirates attempt to escape their fate by jumping into the sea: Dionysos transforms them into dolphins. This hymn served as an occasional motif in pagan art and may explain the miniaturized replicas of seagoing oared ships that played an integral role in the ancient Dionysian cult. These flimsy Dionysian ship carts moved overland in parades, either on wheels or upon the shoulders of celebrants. While the earliest examples may date to the Late Bronze Age, they are best known from a series of three late Archaic-period representations on black-figure skyphoi, now in museums in Athens, Bologna and London. No two Archaic-period Dionysian ship-cart representations are identical in all details. While perhaps due to painters' whims, this diversity in appearance may reflect changes to the ship carts at each annual appearance, analogous to modern-day parade floats. Due to the two-dimensional nature of these ship-cart images, it is impossible today to determine whether the Dionysian ship carts reflected in them consisted of actual vessels-purpose-built and placed on wagons during the procession, employed solely for the Dionysian celebrations-or floats in the form of miniaturized galleys. This paper supplies context and explains the process of creating a three-dimensional digital reconstruction of a generic Late Archaic-period Dionysian ship cart employing contemporaneous imagery and artifacts.

Figures of intersexed individuals perhaps representing the minor Greek deity Hermaphroditus became, for reasons that are not entirely clear, strikingly popular in Roman sculpture and wall painting in the latter half of the first century CE. Depicting a fully bisexed human body, these figures have resulted in competing interpretations regarding their purpose, meaning, and effect. As it happens, we also have a text from the Augustan period that purports to explain not only the origin of the intersexed Hermaphroditus, but the production of future bisexed individuals, in Ovid's Metamorphoses Book 4. When discussing the sculptures and wall paintings of Hermaphroditus, as a result, scholars have been inevitably drawn to Ovid's narrative. The pull of Ovid is admittedly almost irresistible, and his reputation as a poet who challenges norms, conventions, and genres makes it attractive to see him as creating room for modern notions of gender fluidity. As Georgia Nugent argued more than thirty years ago, however, Ovid's narrative is, in curious ways, a reductive version of the myth, ‘a paradigmatic example of how what is sexually threatening may be textually recuperated and stabilized’. I wish to reanimate Nugent's arguments here, and to suggest that scholars’ regular invocation of Ovid when interpreting the products of Roman art is a mistake, for two reasons: first, the figure Ovid describes is, in fact, not typical of what we see in Roman sculptures and wall paintings; and second, Ovid presents a version of Hermaphroditus’ gender identity that is deliberately less challenging to the stability of sexual binarism—and to traditional gender roles—than are those material depictions. For those of us who wish to advocate for the rights of intersexed individuals, in other words, Ovid is the wrong champion.

Abstract Recent scholarly efforts to identify the antecedents of modern concepts, practices and institutions of cultural heritage in Greco-Roman antiquity appropriately meet the research need to place ancient collecting in dialogue with the current discourse of museum and heritage studies. Our knowledge of Greek and Roman ways of dealing with the artefacts kept in sacred spaces, however, invites us to be cautious when approaching ancient sanctuaries as predecessors of modern institutions such as public art galleries and museums. Through the specific case of the ‘Aphrodite Anadyomene’ painted by Apelles, this paper proposes some reflections on several aspects of collecting in ancient sacred spaces that remain controversial: the impact of celebrated masterpieces of art on Greek and Roman sanctuaries; ancient art tourism; Greco-Roman views on cultural property and its displacement; and ancient attitudes to conservation.

Abstract In this paper, I address one characteristic of Classical Greek votive reliefs that has troubled scholars: the size of the gods. The reliefs depict mortal worshippers approaching gods and goddesses who are, almost invariably, larger in stature than the mortals. Scholars have generally explained the difference in scale to be art historical, rather than theological, in significance. Either the larger scale is a visual expression of the hierarchical superiority of the gods or the images of the gods represent over-life-size statues. In addition, it is widely accepted that votive reliefs are products of unsophisticated religious belief, ignorant of the conceptualization of an imperceptible, non-corporeal deity in Classical philosophy. In this paper, I accept the artistic proposition of votive reliefs at face value: in this genre, the gods are living, visible, material bodies, most often anthropomorphic in form and always larger in magnitude than mortals. I identify one significant parallel for this interpretation within Greek and Roman thought, namely, the conception of gods within the materialist theology developed by the late Classical writer Epicurus and, in part at least, by the fifth-century BC writer Demokritos. In the writings of the Epicureans and, it appears, the atomists, as in the votive reliefs, gods are human in form, very beautiful, self-sufficient, larger than humans in size and known by mortals through visual perception.

[Editors’ note: this lyric essay was presented as the keynote address at Edith Cowan University’s CREATEC symposium on the theme Catastrophe and Creativity in November 2012, and represents excerpts from the author’s publication Threading Light: Explorations in Loss and Poetry. Regina, SK: Hagios Press, 2011. Reproduced with the author’s permission].Essay and verse and anecdote are the ways I have chosen to apprentice myself to loss, grief, faith, memory, and the stories we use to tie and untie them. Cat’s cradle, Celtic lines, bends and hitches are familiar: however, when I write about loss, I find there are knots I cannot tie or release, challenging both my imagination and my craft. Over the last decade, I have been learning that writing poetry is also the art of tying together light and dark, grief and joy, of grasping and releasing. Language is a hinge that connects us with the flesh of our experience; it is also residue, the ash of memory and imagination. (Threading Light 7) ———Greek katastrophé overturning, sudden turn, from kata down + strophe ‘turning” from strephein to turn.Loss and catastrophe catapult us into the liminal, into a threshold space. We walk between land we have known and the open sea. ———Mnemosyne, the mother of the nine Muses, the personification of memory, makes anthropologists of us all. When Hermes picked up the lyre, it was to her—to Remembrance —that he sang the first song. Without remembrance, oral or written, we have no place to begin. Stone, amulet, photograph, charm bracelet, cufflink, fish story, house, facial expression, tape recorder, verse, or the same old traveling salesman joke—we have places and means to try to store memories. Memories ground us, even as we know they are fleeting and flawed constructions that slip through our consciousness; ghosts of ghosts. One cold winter, I stayed in a guest room in my mother’s apartment complex for three days. Because she had lost her sight, I sat at the table in her overheated and stuffy kitchen with the frozen slider window and tried to describe photographs as she tried to recall names and events. I emptied out the dusty closet she’d ignored since my father left, and we talked about knitting patterns, the cost of her mother’s milk glass bowl, the old clothes she could only know by rubbing the fabric through her fingers. I climbed on a chair to reach a serving dish she wanted me to have, and we laughed hysterically when I read aloud the handwritten note inside: save for Annette, in a script not hers. It’s okay, she said; I want all this gone. To all you kids. Take everything you can. When I pop off, I don’t want any belongings. Our family had moved frequently, and my belongings always fit in a single box; as a student, in the back of a car or inside a backpack. Now, in her ninth decade, my mother wanted to return to the simplicity she, too, recalled from her days on a small farm outside a small town. On her deathbed, she insisted on having her head shaved, and frequently the nursing staff came into the room to find she had stripped off her johnny shirt and her covers. The philosopher Simone Weil said that all we possess in the world is the power to say “I” (Gravity 119).Memory is a cracked bowl, and it fills endlessly as it empties. Memory is what we create out of what we have at hand—other people’s accounts, objects, flawed stories of our own creation, second-hand tales handed down like an old watch. Annie Dillard says as a life’s work, she’d remember everything–everything against loss, and go through life like a plankton net. I prefer the image of the bowl—its capacity to feed us, the humility it suggests, its enduring shape, its rich symbolism. Its hope. To write is to fashion a bowl, perhaps, but we know, finally, the bowl cannot hold everything. (Threading Light 78–80) ———Man is the sire of sorrow, sang Joni Mitchell. Like joy, sorrow begins at birth: we are born into both. The desert fathers believed—in fact, many of certain faiths continue to believe—that penthos is mourning for lost salvation. Penthus was the last god to be given his assignment from Zeus: he was to be responsible for grieving and loss. Eros, the son of Aphrodite, was the god of love and desire. The two can be seen in concert with one another, each mirroring the other’s extreme, each demanding of us the farthest reach of our being. Nietzsche, through Zarathustra, phrased it another way: “Did you ever say Yes to one joy? O my friends, then you have also said Yes to all Woe as well. All things are chained, entwined together, all things are in love.” (Threading Light 92) ———We are that brief crack of light, that cradle rocking. We can aspire to a heaven, or a state of forgiveness; we can ask for redemption and hope for freedom from suffering for ourselves and our loved ones; we may create children or works of art in the vague hope that we will leave something behind when we go. But regardless, we know that there is a wall or a dark curtain or a void against which we direct or redirect our lives. We hide from it, we embrace it; we taunt it; we flout it. We write macabre jokes, we play hide and seek, we walk with bated breath, scream in movies, or howl in the wilderness. We despair when we learn of premature or sudden death; we are reminded daily—an avalanche, an aneurysm, a shocking diagnosis, a child’s bicycle in the intersection—that our illusions of control, that youthful sense of invincibility we have clung to, our last-ditch religious conversions, our versions of Pascal’s bargain, nothing stops the carriage from stopping for us.We are fortunate if our awareness calls forth our humanity. We learn, as Aristotle reminded us, about our capacity for fear and pity. Seeing others as vulnerable in their pain or weakness, we see our own frailties. As I read the poetry of Donne or Rumi, or verse created by the translator of Holocaust stories, Lois Olena, or the work of poet Sharon Olds as she recounts the daily horror of her youth, I can become open to pity, or—to use the more contemporary word—compassion. The philosopher Martha Nussbaum argues that works of art are not only a primary means for an individual to express her humanity through catharsis, as Aristotle claimed, but, because of the attunement to others and to the world that creation invites, the process can sow the seeds of social justice. Art grounds our grief in form; it connects us to one another and to the world. And the more we acquaint ourselves with works of art—in music, painting, theatre, literature—the more we open ourselves to complex and nuanced understandings of our human capacities for grief. Why else do we turn to a stirring poem when we are mourning? Why else do we sing? When my parents died, I came home from the library with stacks of poetry and memoirs about loss. How does your story dovetail with mine? I wanted to know. How large is this room—this country—of grief and how might I see it, feel the texture on its walls, the ice of its waters? I was in a foreign land, knew so little of its language, and wanted to be present and raw and vulnerable in its climate and geography. Writing and reading were my way not to squander my hours of pain. While it was difficult to live inside that country, it was more difficult not to. In learning to know graveyards as places of comfort and perspective, Mnemosyne’s territory with her markers of memory guarded by crow, leaf, and human footfall, with storehouses of vast and deep tapestries of stories whispered, sung, or silent, I am cultivating the practice of walking on common ground. Our losses are really our winter-enduring foliage, Rilke writes. They are place and settlement, foundation and soil, and home. (Threading Light 86–88) ———The loseability of our small and larger worlds allows us to see their gifts, their preciousness.Loseability allows us to pay attention. ———“A faith-based life, a Trappistine nun said to me, aims for transformation of the soul through compunction—not only a state of regret and remorse for our inadequacies before God, but also living inside a deeper sorrow, a yearning for a union with the divine. Compunction, according to a Christian encyclopaedia, is constructive only if it leads to repentance, reconciliation, and sanctification. Would you consider this work you are doing, the Trappistine wrote, to be a spiritual journey?Initially, I ducked her question; it was a good one. Like Neruda, I don’t know where the poetry comes from, a winter or a river. But like many poets, I feel the inadequacy of language to translate pain and beauty, the yearning for an embodied understanding of phenomena that is assensitive and soul-jolting as the contacts of eye-to-eye and skin-to-skin. While I do not worship a god, I do long for an impossible union with the world—a way to acknowledge the gift that is my life. Resonance: a search for the divine in the everyday. And more so. Writing is a full-bodied, sensory, immersive activity that asks me to give myself over to phenomena, that calls forth deep joy and deep sorrow sometimes so profound that I am gutted by my inadequacy. I am pierced, dumbstruck. Lyric language is the crayon I use, and poetry is my secular compunction...Poets—indeed, all writers—are often humbled by what we cannot do, pierced as we are by—what? I suggest mystery, impossibility, wonder, reverence, grief, desire, joy, our simple gratitude and despair. I speak of the soul and seven people rise from their chairs and leave the room, writes Mary Oliver (4). Eros and penthos working in concert. We have to sign on for the whole package, and that’s what both empties us out, and fills us up. The practice of poetry is our inadequate means of seeking the gift of tears. We cultivate awe, wonder, the exquisite pain of seeing and knowing deeply the abundant and the fleeting in our lives. Yes, it is a spiritual path. It has to do with the soul, and the sacred—our venerating the world given to us. Whether we are inside a belief system that has or does not have a god makes no difference. Seven others lean forward to listen. (Threading Light 98–100)———The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a rare thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. – Simone Weil (169)I can look at the lines and shades on the page clipped to the easel, deer tracks in the snow, or flecks of light on a summer sidewalk. Or at the moon as it moves from new to full. Or I can read the poetry of Paul Celan.Celan’s poem “Tenebrae” takes its title from high Christian services in which lighting, usually from candles, is gradually extinguished so that by the end of the service, the church is in total darkness. Considering Celan’s—Antschel’s—history as a Romanian Jew whose parents were killed in the Nazi death camps, and his subsequent years tortured by the agony of his grief, we are not surprised to learn he chose German, his mother’s language, to create his poetry: it might have been his act of defiance, his way of using shadow and light against the other. The poet’s deep grief, his profound awareness of loss, looks unflinchingly at the past, at the piles of bodies. The language has become a prism, reflecting penetrating shafts of shadow: in the shine of blood, the darkest of the dark. Enlinked, enlaced, and enamoured. We don’t always have names for the shades of sorrows and joys we live inside, but we know that each defines and depends upon the other. Inside the core shadow of grief we recognise our shared mortality, and only in that recognition—we are not alone—can hope be engendered. In the exquisite pure spot of light we associate with love and joy, we may be temporarily blinded, but if we look beyond, and we draw on what we know, we feel the presence of the shadows that have intensified what appears to us as light. Light and dark—even in what we may think are their purest state—are transitory pauses in the shape of being. Decades ago my well-meaning mother, a nurse, gave me pills to dull the pain of losing my fiancé who had shot himself; now, years later, knowing so many deaths, and more imminent, I would choose the bittersweet tenderness of being fully inside grief—awake, raw, open—feeling its walls, its every rough surface, its every degree of light and dark. It is love/loss, light/dark, a fusion that brings me home to the world. (Threading Light 100–101) ———Loss can trigger and inspire creativity, not only at the individual level but at the public level, whether we are marching in Idle No More demonstrations, re-building a shelter, or re-building a life. We use art to weep, to howl, to reach for something that matters, something that means. And sometimes it may mean that all we learn from it is that nothing lasts. And then, what? What do we do then? ———The wisdom of Epictetus, the Stoic, can offer solace, but I know it will take time to catch up with him. Nothing can be taken from us, he claims, because there is nothing to lose: what we lose—lover, friend, hope, father, dream, keys, faith, mother—has merely been returned to where it (or they) came from. We live in samsara, Zen masters remind us, inside a cycle of suffering that results from a belief in the permanence of self and of others. Our perception of reality is narrow; we must broaden it to include all phenomena, to recognise the interdependence of lives, the planet, and beyond, into galaxies. A lot for a mortal to get her head around. And yet, as so many poets have wondered, is that not where imagination is born—in the struggle and practice of listening, attending, and putting ourselves inside the now that all phenomena share? Can I imagine the rush of air under the loon that passes over my house toward the ocean every morning at dawn? The hot dust under the cracked feet of that child on the outskirts of Darwin? The gut-hauling terror of an Afghan woman whose family’s blood is being spilled? Thich Nhat Hanh says that we are only alive when we live the sufferings and the joys of others. He writes: Having seen the reality of interdependence and entered deeply into its reality, nothing can oppress you any longer. You are liberated. Sit in the lotus position, observe your breath, and ask one who has died for others. (66)Our breath is a delicate thread, and it contains multitudes. I hear an echo, yes. The practice of poetry—my own spiritual and philosophical practice, my own sackcloth and candle—has allowed me a glimpse not only into the lives of others, sentient or not, here, afar, or long dead, but it has deepened and broadened my capacity for breath. Attention to breath grounds me and forces me to attend, pulls me into my body as flesh. When I see my flesh as part of the earth, as part of all flesh, as Morris Berman claims, I come to see myself as part of something larger. (Threading Light 134–135) ———We think of loss as a dark time, and yet it opens us, deepens us.Close attention to loss—our own and others’—cultivates compassion.As artists we’re already predisposed to look and listen closely. We taste things, we touch things, we smell them. We lie on the ground like Mary Oliver looking at that grasshopper. We fill our ears with music that not everyone slows down to hear. We fall in love with ideas, with people, with places, with beauty, with tragedy, and I think we desire some kind of fusion, a deeper connection than everyday allows us. We want to BE that grasshopper, enter that devastation, to honour it. We long, I think, to be present.When we are present, even in catastrophe, we are fully alive. It seems counter-intuitive, but the more fully we engage with our losses—the harder we look, the more we soften into compassion—the more we cultivate resilience. ———Resilience consists of three features—persistence, adaptability transformability—each interacting from local to global scales. – Carl FolkeResilent people and resilient systems find meaning and purpose in loss. We set aside our own egos and we try to learn to listen and to see, to open up. Resilience is fundamentally an act of optimism. This is not the same, however, as being naïve. Optimism is the difference between “why me?” and “why not me?” Optimism is present when we are learning to think larger than ourselves. Resilience asks us to keep moving. Sometimes with loss there is a moment or two—or a month, a year, who knows?—where we, as humans, believe that we are standing still, we’re stuck, we’re in stasis. But we aren’t. Everything is always moving and everything is always in relation. What we mistake for stasis in a system is the system taking stock, transforming, doing things underneath the surface, preparing to rebuild, create, recreate. Leonard Cohen reminded us there’s a crack in everything, and that’s how the light gets in. But what we often don’t realize is that it’s we—the human race, our own possibilities, our own creativity—who are that light. We are resilient when we have agency, support, community we can draw on. When we have hope. ———FortuneFeet to carry you past acres of grapevines, awnings that opento a hall of paperbarks. A dog to circle you, look behind, point ahead. A hip that bends, allows you to slidebetween wire and wooden bars of the fence. A twinge rides with that hip, and sometimes the remnant of a fall bloomsin your right foot. Hands to grip a stick for climbing, to rest your weight when you turn to look below. On your left hand,a story: others see it as a scar. On the other, a newer tale; a bone-white lump. Below, mist disappears; a nichein the world opens to its long green history. Hills furrow into their dark harbours. Horses, snatches of inhale and whiffle.Mutterings of men, a cow’s long bellow, soft thud of feet along the hill. You turn at the sound.The dog swallows a cry. Stays; shakes until the noise recedes. After a time, she walks on three legs,tests the paw of the fourth in the dust. You may never know how she was wounded. She remembers your bodyby scent, voice, perhaps the taste of contraband food at the door of the house. Story of human and dog, you begin—but the wordyour fingers make is god. What last year was her silken newborn fur is now sunbleached, basket dry. Feet, hips, hands, paws, lapwings,mockingbirds, quickening, longing: how eucalypts reach to give shade, and tiny tight grapes cling to vines that align on a slope as smoothlyas the moon follows you, as intention always leans toward good. To know bones of the earth are as true as a point of light: tendernesswhere you bend and press can whisper grace, sorrow’s last line, into all that might have been,so much that is. (Threading Light 115–116) Acknowledgments The author would like to thank Dr. Lekkie Hopkins and Dr. John Ryan for the opportunity to speak (via video) to the 2012 CREATEC Symposium Catastrophe and Creativity, to Dr. Hopkins for her eloquent and memorable paper in response to my work on creativity and research, and to Dr. Ryan for his support. The presentation was recorded and edited by Paul Poirier at Mount Saint Vincent University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. My thanks go to Edith Cowan and Mount Saint Vincent Universities. ReferencesBerman, Morris. Coming to Our Senses. New York: Bantam, 1990.Dillard, Annie. For the Time Being. New York: Vintage Books, 2000.Felstiner, John. Paul Celan: Poet, Survivor, Jew. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001.Folke, Carl. "On Resilience." Seed Magazine. 13 Dec. 2010. 22 Mar. 2013 ‹http://seedmagazine.com/content/article/on_resilience›.Franck, Frederick. Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing. New York: Bantam Books, 1993.Hanh, Thich Nhat. The Miracle of Mindfulness. Boston: Beacon Press, 1976.Hausherr, Irenee. Penthos: The Doctrine of Compunction in the Christian East. Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1982.Neilsen Glenn, Lorri. Threading Light: Explorations in Loss and Poetry. Regina, SK: Hagios Press, 2011. Nietzsche, Frederick. Thus Spake Zarathustra. New York: Penguin, 1978. Nussbaum, Martha. Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Oliver, Mary. “The Word.” What Do We Know. Boston: DaCapo Press, 2002.Rilke, Rainer Maria. Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus. (Tenth Elegy). Ed. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Random House/Vintage Editions, 2009.Weil, Simone. The Need for Roots. London: Taylor & Francis, 2005 (1952).Weil, Simone. Gravity and Grace. London: Routledge, 2004.Further ReadingChodron, Pema. Practicing Peace in Times of War. Boston: Shambhala, 2006.Cleary, Thomas (trans.) The Essential Tao: An Initiation into the Heart of Taoism through Tao de Ching and the Teachings of Chuang Tzu. Edison, NJ: Castle Books, 1993.Dalai Lama (H H the 14th) and Venerable Chan Master Sheng-yen. Meeting of Minds: A Dialogue on Tibetan and Chinese Buddhism. New York: Dharma Drum Publications, 1999. Hirshfield, Jane. "Language Wakes Up in the Morning: A Meander toward Writing." Alaska Quarterly Review. 21.1 (2003).Hirshfield, Jane. Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry. New York: HarperCollins, 1997. Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching. Trans. Arthur Waley. Chatham: Wordsworth Editions, 1997. Neilsen, Lorri. "Lyric Inquiry." Handbook of the Arts in Qualitative Research. Eds. J. Gary Knowles and Ardra Cole. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2008. 88–98. Ross, Maggie. The Fire and the Furnace: The Way of Tears and Fire. York: Paulist Press, 1987.

IntroductionFood Studies is a relatively recent area of research enquiry in Australia and Magazine Studies is even newer (Le Masurier and Johinke), with the consequence that Australian culinary magazines are only just beginning to be investigated. Moreover, although many major libraries have not thought such popular magazines worthy of sustained collection (Fox and Sornil), considering these publications is important. As de Certeau argues, it can be of considerable consequence to identify and analyse everyday practices (such as producing and reading popular magazines) that seem so minor and insignificant as to be unworthy of notice, as these practices have the ability to affect our lives. It is important in this case as these publications were part of the post-war gastronomic environment in Australia in which national tastes in domestic cookery became radically internationalised (Santich). To further investigate Australian magazines, as well as suggesting how these cosmopolitan eating habits became more widely embraced, this article will survey the various ways in which the idea of “abroad” is expressed in one Australian culinary serial from the post-war period, Australian Wines & Food Quarterly magazine, which was published from 1956 to 1960. The methodological approach taken is an historically-informed content analysis (Krippendorff) of relevant material from these magazines combined with germane media data (Hodder). All issues in the serial’s print run have been considered.Australian Post-War Culinary PublishingTo date, studies of 1950s writing in Australia have largely focused on literary and popular fiction (Johnson-Wood; Webby) and literary criticism (Bird; Dixon; Lee). There have been far fewer studies of non-fiction writing of any kind, although some serial publications from this time have attracted some attention (Bell; Lindesay; Ross; Sheridan; Warner-Smith; White; White). In line with studies internationally, groundbreaking work in Australian food history has focused on cookbooks, and includes work by Supski, who notes that despite the fact that buying cookbooks was “regarded as a luxury in the 1950s” (87), such publications were an important information source in terms of “developing, consolidating and extending foodmaking knowledge” at that time (85).It is widely believed that changes to Australian foodways were brought about by significant post-war immigration and the recipes and dishes these immigrants shared with neighbours, friends, and work colleagues and more widely afield when they opened cafes and restaurants (Newton; Newton; Manfredi). Although these immigrants did bring new culinary flavours and habits with them, the overarching rhetoric guiding population policy at this time was assimilation, with migrants expected to abandon their culture, language, and habits in favour of the dominant British-influenced ways of living (Postiglione). While migrants often did retain their foodways (Risson), the relationship between such food habits and the increasingly cosmopolitan Australian food culture is much more complex than the dominant cultural narrative would have us believe. It has been pointed out, for example, that while the haute cuisine of countries such as France, Italy, and Germany was much admired in Australia and emulated in expensive dining (Brien and Vincent), migrants’ own preference for their own dishes instead of Anglo-Australian choices, was not understood (Postiglione). Duruz has added how individual diets are eclectic, “multi-layered and hybrid” (377), incorporating foods from both that person’s own background with others available for a range of reasons including availability, cost, taste, and fashion. In such an environment, popular culinary publishing, in terms of cookbooks, specialist magazines, and recipe and other food-related columns in general magazines and newspapers, can be posited to be another element contributing to this change.Australian Wines & Food QuarterlyAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly (AWFQ) is, as yet, a completely unexamined publication, and there appears to be only three complete sets of this magazine held in public collections. It is important to note that, at the time it was launched in the mid-1950s, food writing played a much less significant part in Australian popular publishing than it does today, with far fewer cookbooks released than today, and women’s magazines and the women’s pages of newspapers containing only small recipe sections. In this environment, a new specialist culinary magazine could be seen to be timely, an audacious gamble, or both.All issues of this magazine were produced and printed in, and distributed from, Melbourne, Australia. Although no sales or distribution figures are available, production was obviously a struggle, with only 15 issues published before the magazine folded at the end of 1960. The title of the magazine changed over this time, and issue release dates are erratic, as is the method in which volumes and issues are numbered. Although the number of pages varied from 32 up to 52, and then less once again, across the magazine’s life, the price was steadily reduced, ending up at less than half the original cover price. All issues were produced and edited by Donald Wallace, who also wrote much of the content, with contributions from family members, including his wife, Mollie Wallace, to write, illustrate, and produce photographs for the magazine.When considering the content of the magazine, most is quite familiar in culinary serials today, although AWFQ’s approach was radically innovative in Australia at this time when cookbooks, women’s magazines, and newspaper cookery sections focused on recipes, many of which were of cakes, biscuits, and other sweet baking (Bannerman). AWFQ not only featured many discursive essays and savory meals, it also featured much wine writing and review-style content as well as information about restaurant dining in each issue.Wine-Related ContentWine is certainly the most prominent of the content areas, with most issues of the magazine containing more wine-related content than any other. Moreover, in the early issues, most of the food content is about preparing dishes and/or meals that could be consumed alongside wines, although the proportion of food content increases as the magazine is published. This wine-related content takes a clearly international perspective on this topic. While many articles and advertisements, for example, narrate the long history of Australian wine growing—which goes back to early 19th century—these articles argue that Australia's vineyards and wineries measure up to international, and especially French, examples. In one such example, the author states that: “from the earliest times Australia’s wines have matched up to world standard” (“Wine” 25). This contest can be situated in Australia, where a leading restaurant (Caprice in Sydney) could be seen to not only “match up to” but also, indeed to, “challenge world standards” by serving Australian wines instead of imports (“Sydney” 33). So good, indeed, are Australian wines that when foreigners are surprised by their quality, this becomes newsworthy. This is evidenced in the following excerpt: “Nearly every English businessman who has come out to Australia in the last ten years … has diverted from his main discussion to comment on the high quality of Australian wine” (Seppelt, 3). In a similar nationalist vein, many articles feature overseas experts’ praise of Australian wines. Thus, visiting Italian violinist Giaconda de Vita shows a “keen appreciation of Australian wines” (“Violinist” 30), British actor Robert Speaight finds Grange Hermitage “an ideal wine” (“High Praise” 13), and the Swedish ambassador becomes their advocate (Ludbrook, “Advocate”).This competition could also be located overseas including when Australian wines are served at prestigious overseas events such as a dinner for members of the Overseas Press Club in New York (Australian Wines); sold from Seppelt’s new London cellars (Melbourne), or the equally new Australian Wine Centre in Soho (Australia Will); or, featured in exhibitions and promotions such as the Lausanne Trade Fair (Australia is Guest;“Wines at Lausanne), or the International Wine Fair in Yugoslavia (Australia Wins).Australia’s first Wine Festival was held in Melbourne in 1959 (Seppelt, “Wine Week”), the joint focus of which was the entertainment and instruction of the some 15,000 to 20,000 attendees who were expected. At its centre was a series of free wine tastings aiming to promote Australian wines to the “professional people of the community, as well as the general public and the housewife” (“Melbourne” 8), although admission had to be recommended by a wine retailer. These tastings were intended to build up the prestige of Australian wine when compared to international examples: “It is the high quality of our wines that we are proud of. That is the story to pass on—that Australian wine, at its best, is at least as good as any in the world and better than most” (“Melbourne” 8).There is also a focus on promoting wine drinking as a quotidian habit enjoyed abroad: “We have come a long way in less than twenty years […] An enormous number of husbands and wives look forward to a glass of sherry when the husband arrives home from work and before dinner, and a surprising number of ordinary people drink table wine quite un-selfconsciously” (Seppelt, “Advance” 3). However, despite an acknowledged increase in wine appreciation and drinking, there is also acknowledgement that this there was still some way to go in this aim as, for example, in the statement: “There is no reason why the enjoyment of table wines should not become an Australian custom” (Seppelt, “Advance” 4).The authority of European experts and European habits is drawn upon throughout the publication whether in philosophically-inflected treatises on wine drinking as a core part of civilised behaviour, or practically-focused articles about wine handling and serving (Keown; Seabrook; “Your Own”). Interestingly, a number of Australian experts are also quoted as stressing that these are guidelines, not strict rules: Crosby, for instance, states: “There is no ‘right wine.’ The wine to drink is the one you like, when and how you like it” (19), while the then-manager of Lindemans Wines is similarly reassuring in his guide to entertaining, stating that “strict adherence to the rules is not invariably wise” (Mackay 3). Tingey openly acknowledges that while the international-style of regularly drinking wine had “given more dignity and sophistication to the Australian way of life” (35), it should not be shrouded in snobbery.Food-Related ContentThe magazine’s cookery articles all feature international dishes, and certain foreign foods, recipes, and ways of eating and dining are clearly identified as “gourmet”. Cheese is certainly the most frequently mentioned “gourmet” food in the magazine, and is featured in every issue. These articles can be grouped into the following categories: understanding cheese (how it is made and the different varieties enjoyed internationally), how to consume cheese (in relation to other food and specific wines, and in which particular parts of a meal, again drawing on international practices), and cooking with cheese (mostly in what can be identified as “foreign” recipes).Some of this content is produced by Kraft Foods, a major advertiser in the magazine, and these articles and recipes generally focus on urging people to eat more, and varied international kinds of cheese, beyond the ubiquitous Australian cheddar. In terms of advertorials, both Kraft cheeses (as well as other advertisers) are mentioned by brand in recipes, while the companies are also profiled in adjacent articles. In the fourth issue, for instance, a full-page, infomercial-style advertisement, noting the different varieties of Kraft cheese and how to serve them, is published in the midst of a feature on cooking with various cheeses (“Cooking with Cheese”). This includes recipes for Swiss Cheese fondue and two pasta recipes: spaghetti and spicy tomato sauce, and a so-called Italian spaghetti with anchovies.Kraft’s company history states that in 1950, it was the first business in Australia to manufacture and market rindless cheese. Through these AWFQ advertisements and recipes, Kraft aggressively marketed this innovation, as well as its other new products as they were launched: mayonnaise, cheddar cheese portions, and Cracker Barrel Cheese in 1954; Philadelphia Cream Cheese, the first cream cheese to be produced commercially in Australia, in 1956; and, Coon Cheese in 1957. Not all Kraft products were seen, however, as “gourmet” enough for such a magazine. Kraft’s release of sliced Swiss Cheese in 1957, and processed cheese slices in 1959, for instance, both passed unremarked in either the magazine’s advertorial or recipes.An article by the Australian Dairy Produce Board urging consumers to “Be adventurous with Cheese” presented general consumer information including the “origin, characteristics and mode of serving” cheese accompanied by a recipe for a rich and exotic-sounding “Wine French Dressing with Blue Cheese” (Kennedy 18). This was followed in the next issue by an article discussing both now familiar and not-so familiar European cheese varieties: “Monterey, Tambo, Feta, Carraway, Samsoe, Taffel, Swiss, Edam, Mozzarella, Pecorino-Romano, Red Malling, Cacio Cavallo, Blue-Vein, Roman, Parmigiano, Kasseri, Ricotta and Pepato” (“Australia’s Natural” 23). Recipes for cheese fondues recur through the magazine, sometimes even multiple times in the same issue (see, for instance, “Cooking With Cheese”; “Cooking With Wine”; Pain). In comparison, butter, although used in many AWFQ’s recipes, was such a common local ingredient at this time that it was only granted one article over the entire run of the magazine, and this was largely about the much more unusual European-style unsalted butter (“An Expert”).Other international recipes that were repeated often include those for pasta (always spaghetti) as well as mayonnaise made with olive oil. Recurring sweets and desserts include sorbets and zabaglione from Italy, and flambéd crepes suzettes from France. While tabletop cooking is the epitome of sophistication and described as an international technique, baked Alaska (ice cream nestled on liquor-soaked cake, and baked in a meringue shell), hailing from America, is the most featured recipe in the magazine. Asian-inspired cuisine was rarely represented and even curry—long an Anglo-Australian staple—was mentioned only once in the magazine, in an article reprinted from the South African The National Hotelier, and which included a recipe alongside discussion of blending spices (“Curry”).Coffee was regularly featured in both articles and advertisements as a staple of the international gourmet kitchen (see, for example, Bancroft). Articles on the history, growing, marketing, blending, roasting, purchase, percolating and brewing, and serving of coffee were common during the magazine’s run, and are accompanied with advertisements for Bushell’s, Robert Timms’s and Masterfoods’s coffee ranges. AWFQ believed Australia’s growing coffee consumption was the result of increased participation in quality internationally-influenced dining experiences, whether in restaurants, the “scores of colourful coffee shops opening their doors to a new generation” (“Coffee” 39), or at home (Adams). Tea, traditionally the Australian hot drink of choice, is not mentioned once in the magazine (Brien).International Gourmet InnovationsAlso featured in the magazine are innovations in the Australian food world: new places to eat; new ways to cook, including a series of sometimes quite unusual appliances; and new ways to shop, with a profile of the first American-style supermarkets to open in Australia in this period. These are all seen as overseas innovations, but highly suited to Australia. The laws then controlling the service of alcohol are also much discussed, with many calls to relax the licensing laws which were seen as inhibiting civilised dining and drinking practices. The terms this was often couched in—most commonly in relation to the Olympic Games (held in Melbourne in 1956), but also in relation to tourism in general—are that these restrictive regulations were an embarrassment for Melbourne when considered in relation to international practices (see, for example, Ludbrook, “Present”). This was at a time when the nightly hotel closing time of 6.00 pm (and the performance of the notorious “six o’clock swill” in terms of drinking behaviour) was only repealed in Victoria in 1966 (Luckins).Embracing scientific approaches in the kitchen was largely seen to be an American habit. The promotion of the use of electricity in the kitchen, and the adoption of new electric appliances (Gas and Fuel; Gilbert “Striving”), was described not only as a “revolution that is being wrought in our homes”, but one that allowed increased levels of personal expression and fulfillment, in “increas[ing] the time and resources available to the housewife for the expression of her own personality in the management of her home” (Gilbert, “The Woman’s”). This mirrors the marketing of these modes of cooking and appliances in other media at this time, including in newspapers, radio, and other magazines. This included features on freezing food, however AWFQ introduced an international angle, by suggesting that recipe bases could be pre-prepared, frozen, and then defrosted to use in a range of international cookery (“Fresh”; “How to”; Kelvinator Australia). The then-new marvel of television—another American innovation—is also mentioned in the magazine ("Changing concepts"), although other nationalities are also invoked. The history of the French guild the Confrerie de la Chaine des Roitisseurs in 1248 is, for instance, used to promote an electric spit roaster that was part of a state-of-the-art gas stove (“Always”), and there are also advertisements for such appliances as the Gaggia expresso machine (“Lets”) which draw on both Italian historical antecedence and modern science.Supermarket and other forms of self-service shopping are identified as American-modern, with Australia’s first shopping mall lauded as the epitome of utopian progressiveness in terms of consumer practice. Judged to mark “a new era in Australian retailing” (“Regional” 12), the opening of Chadstone Regional Shopping Centre in suburban Melbourne on 4 October 1960, with its 83 tenants including “giant” supermarket Dickens, and free parking for 2,500 cars, was not only “one of the most up to date in the world” but “big even by American standards” (“Regional” 12, italics added), and was hailed as a step in Australia “catching up” with the United States in terms of mall shopping (“Regional” 12). This shopping centre featured international-styled dining options including Bistro Shiraz, an outdoor terrace restaurant that planned to operate as a bistro-snack bar by day and full-scale restaurant at night, and which was said to offer diners a “Persian flavor” (“Bistro”).ConclusionAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly was the first of a small number of culinary-focused Australian publications in the 1950s and 1960s which assisted in introducing a generation of readers to information about what were then seen as foreign foods and beverages only to be accessed and consumed abroad as well as a range of innovative international ideas regarding cookery and dining. For this reason, it can be posited that the magazine, although modest in the claims it made, marked a revolutionary moment in Australian culinary publishing. As yet, only slight traces can be found of its editor and publisher, Donald Wallace. The influence of AWFQ is, however, clearly evident in the two longer-lived magazines that were launched in the decade after AWFQ folded: Australian Gourmet Magazine and The Epicurean. Although these serials had a wider reach, an analysis of the 15 issues of AWFQ adds to an understanding of how ideas of foods, beverages, and culinary ideas and trends, imported from abroad were presented to an Australian readership in the 1950s, and contributed to how national foodways were beginning to change during that decade.ReferencesAdams, Jillian. “Australia’s American Coffee Culture.” Australian Journal of Popular Culture 2.1 (2012): 23–36.“Always to Roast on a Turning Spit.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 17.“An Expert on Butter.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 11.“Australia Is Guest Nation at Lausanne.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 18–19.“Australia’s Natural Cheeses.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 23.“Australia Will Be There.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 14.“Australian Wines Served at New York Dinner.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.5 (1958): 16.“Australia Wins Six Gold Medals.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.11 (1959/1960): 3.Bancroft, P.A. “Let’s Make Some Coffee.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 10. Bannerman, Colin. Seed Cake and Honey Prawns: Fashion and Fad in Australian Food. Canberra: National Library of Australia, 2008.Bell, Johnny. “Putting Dad in the Picture: Fatherhood in the Popular Women’s Magazines of 1950s Australia.” Women's History Review 22.6 (2013): 904–929.Bird, Delys, Robert Dixon, and Christopher Lee. Eds. Authority and Influence: Australian Literary Criticism 1950-2000. Brisbane: U of Queensland P, 2001.“Bistro at Chadstone.” The Magazine of Good Living 4.3 (1960): 3.Brien, Donna Lee. “Powdered, Essence or Brewed? Making and Cooking with Coffee in Australia in the 1950s and 1960s.” M/C Journal 15.2 (2012). 20 July 2016 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/475>.Brien, Donna Lee, and Alison Vincent. “Oh, for a French Wife? Australian Women and Culinary Francophilia in Post-War Australia.” Lilith: A Feminist History Journal 22 (2016): 78–90.De Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley: U of California P, 1998.“Changing Concepts of Cooking.” Australian Wines & Food 2.11 (1958/1959): 18-19.“Coffee Beginnings.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.4 (1957/1958): 37–39.“Cooking with Cheese.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.4 (1957/1958): 25–28.“Cooking with Wine.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.11 (1959/1960): 24–30.Crosby, R.D. “Wine Etiquette.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.4 (1957/1958): 19–21.“Curry and How to Make It.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.2 (1957): 32.Duruz, Jean. “Rewriting the Village: Geographies of Food and Belonging in Clovelly, Australia.” Cultural Geographies 9 (2002): 373–388.Fox, Edward A., and Ohm Sornil. “Digital Libraries.” Encyclopedia of Computer Science. 4th ed. Eds. Anthony Ralston, Edwin D. Reilly, and David Hemmendinger. London: Nature Publishing Group, 2000. 576–581.“Fresh Frozen Food.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.8 (1959): 8.Gas and Fuel Corporation of Victoria. “Wine Makes the Recipe: Gas Makes the Dish.” Advertisement. Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.3 (1957): 34.Gilbert, V.J. “Striving for Perfection.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 6.———. “The Woman’s Workshop.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wines & Food 4.2 (1960): 22.“High Praise for Penfolds Claret.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 13.Hodder, Ian. The Interpretation of Documents and Material Culture. Thousand Oaks, CA.: Sage, 1994.“How to Cook Frozen Meats.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.8 (1959): 19, 26.Johnson-Woods, Toni. Pulp: A Collector’s Book of Australian Pulp Fiction Covers. Canberra: National Library of Australia, 2004.Kelvinator Australia. “Try Cooking the Frozen ‘Starter’ Way.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.9 (1959): 10–12.Kennedy, H.E. “Be Adventurous with Cheese.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 3.12 (1960): 18–19.Keown, K.C. “Some Notes on Wine.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 32–33.Krippendorff, Klaus. Content Analysis: An Introduction to Its Methodology. 2nd ed. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2004.“Let’s Make Some Coffee.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wines and Food 4.2: 23.Lindesay, Vance. The Way We Were: Australian Popular Magazines 1856–1969. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 1983.Luckins, Tanja. “Pigs, Hogs and Aussie Blokes: The Emergence of the Term “Six O’clock Swill.”’ History Australia 4.1 (2007): 8.1–8.17.Ludbrook, Jack. “Advocate for Australian Wines.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 3–4.Ludbrook, Jack. “Present Mixed Licensing Laws Harm Tourist Trade.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.9 (1959): 14, 31.Kelvinator Australia. “Try Cooking the Frozen ‘Starter’ Way.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.9 (1959): 10–12.Mackay, Colin. “Entertaining with Wine.” Australian Wines &Foods Quarterly 1.5 (1958): 3–5.Le Masurier, Megan, and Rebecca Johinke. “Magazine Studies: Pedagogy and Practice in a Nascent Field.” TEXT Special Issue 25 (2014). 20 July 2016 <http://www.textjournal.com.au/speciss/issue25/LeMasurier&Johinke.pdf>.“Melbourne Stages Australia’s First Wine Festival.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.10 (1959): 8–9.Newton, John, and Stefano Manfredi. “Gottolengo to Bonegilla: From an Italian Childhood to an Australian Restaurant.” Convivium 2.1 (1994): 62–63.Newton, John. Wogfood: An Oral History with Recipes. Sydney: Random House, 1996.Pain, John Bowen. “Cooking with Wine.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.3 (1957): 39–48.Postiglione, Nadia.“‘It Was Just Horrible’: The Food Experience of Immigrants in 1950s Australia.” History Australia 7.1 (2010): 09.1–09.16.“Regional Shopping Centre.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 12–13.Risson, Toni. Aphrodite and the Mixed Grill: Greek Cafés in Twentieth-Century Australia. Ipswich, Qld.: T. Risson, 2007.Ross, Laurie. “Fantasy Worlds: The Depiction of Women and the Mating Game in Men’s Magazines in the 1950s.” Journal of Australian Studies 22.56 (1998): 116–124.Santich, Barbara. Bold Palates: Australia’s Gastronomic Heritage. Kent Town: Wakefield P, 2012.Seabrook, Douglas. “Stocking Your Cellar.” Australian Wines & Foods Quarterly 1.3 (1957): 19–20.Seppelt, John. “Advance Australian Wine.” Australian Wines & Foods Quarterly 1.3 (1957): 3–4.Seppelt, R.L. “Wine Week: 1959.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.10 (1959): 3.Sheridan, Susan, Barbara Baird, Kate Borrett, and Lyndall Ryan. (2002) Who Was That Woman? The Australian Women’s Weekly in the Postwar Years. Sydney: UNSW P, 2002.Supski, Sian. “'We Still Mourn That Book’: Cookbooks, Recipes and Foodmaking Knowledge in 1950s Australia.” Journal of Australian Studies 28 (2005): 85–94.“Sydney Restaurant Challenges World Standards.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.4 (1957/1958): 33.Tingey, Peter. “Wineman Rode a Hobby Horse.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.9 (1959): 35.“Violinist Loves Bach—and Birds.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 3.12 (1960): 30.Wallace, Donald. Ed. Australian Wines & Food Quarterly. Magazine. Melbourne: 1956–1960.Warner-Smith, Penny. “Travel, Young Women and ‘The Weekly’, 1959–1968.” Annals of Leisure Research 3.1 (2000): 33–46.Webby, Elizabeth. The Cambridge Companion to Australian Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000.White, Richard. “The Importance of Being Man.” Australian Popular Culture. Eds. Peter Spearritt and David Walker. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1979. 145–169.White, Richard. “The Retreat from Adventure: Popular Travel Writing in the 1950s.” Australian Historical Studies 109 (1997): 101–103.“Wine: The Drink for the Home.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 2.10 (1959): 24–25.“Wines at the Lausanne Trade Fair.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 15.“Your Own Wine Cellar” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.2 (1957): 19–20.