Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Coin cabinets"

During the 18th century, collections of coins and medals were familiar sights. The collectors ranged from scholars to amateurs, men and women and the collectables tempted collectors for various reasons: they signified wealth and knowledge, they rendered historical events or current politics in material form, or they were miniature artworks and financial investments. Also, the visual and material culture that involved collecting coins and medals consisted of cabinets and numismatic publications. But how were numismatic collections amassed, and how were they used? What did it mean to own a coin and medal collection? This article discusses the practices of collecting numismatics in 18th-century Sweden through various case studies concerning private and public collections, such as the Uppsala University coin cabinet or the possessions of politician Carl Didric Ehrenpreus, numismatist Elias Brenner, medal artist Arvid Karlsteen, and merchant-wife Anna Johanna Grill. These cases illuminate the diverse motivations behind collecting, from intellectual curiosity to social status. These case studies include immaterial facets such as witty discussions and international networks and material aspects such as coins, medals, cabinets, letters, and publications. Based on contemporary written sources, this article sheds light on how numismatic objects were bought, sold and circulated, highlighting the market dynamics of collecting. Furthermore, the examples examine how numismatic publications were used next to the objects, contributing to hermeneutic study and the collecting process. The written records provide insight into the scholarly discourse surrounding these collections, offering a glimpse into the intellectual context of the time. Finally, the article will add to the understanding of values and ideas attached to the practices of collecting coins and medals in early modern Europe. It elucidates the role of numismatics as a collecting practice, as well as how it shaped cultural perceptions, underscoring the intricate interplay between material and visual culture, society, and the production of knowledge during this period.

The article is dedicated to the history of one of the largest and most well-known academic numismatic collection of Russian Empire - the Coins cabinet of the University of St. Volodymyr. It was created in 1834 by combining collections from educational institutions closed after the Polish uprising of 1830-31. Over the years this institution gathered a collection of more than 60,000 coins and medals. During its existence, it was overseen by: P. Yarkovsky, M. Yakubovich, A. Krasovsky, Ya. Voloshinsky, K. Strashkevich, V. Ikonnikov, V. Antonovich, Y. Kulakovsky, P. Smirnov. The collection was studied by such famous numismatists as H. Mazurkevich, E. Gutten-Chapsky, B. Dorn, A. Kunnik, I. Tolstoy, Y. Iversen, M. Bilyashevsky, K. Bolsunovsky and others. The work on the collection of the Coins cabinet produced a number of numismatic scientists who made a significant contribution to the development of numismatic science - Y. Voloshinsky. K. Strashkevich, V. Antonovich, M. Bilyashevsky, K. Bolsunovsky. Because of the work of these scientists Kyiv became one of the centers of numismatic research. They have a credit for a considerable amount of fundamental works on numismatics, the discovery of new coins. During Soviet times in the 1920's, University of St. Volodymyr was reorganized into the Institute of People's Education. The outstanding numismatic collection was considered unnecessary for this institution. Since 1924 the collection was under the control of Ukrainian Archeological Commission at the Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. For 20-30 years Ukrainian Archeological Commission has been trying to find a place for coin repositories and create a numismatics museum based on this collection. Unfortunately, these plans have not been implemented. After a decade of transfers and calamities, the numismatic collection of the university was given to the Central Historical Museum. As a separate collection - the Mints cabinet of the University of St. Volodymyr ceased to exist.

Cabinet dryer merupakan mesin atau peralatan pengering yang sering digunakan karena sederhana penggunaannya, rendah biaya desain dan operasionalnya. Permodelan dan simulasi menjadi metode yang dapat digunakan untuk mengetahui unjuk kerja cabinet dryer sebelum dilakukan pembuatan prototipe cabinet dryer. Distribusi temperatur dan kecepatan aliran panas merupakan fokus permodelan dan simulasi cabinet dryer. Pada permodelan dan simulasi cabinet dryer ini didesain penggunaan sirip dan tanpa sirip pada saluran luaran aliran udara panas. Perancangan model dilakukan dengan program inventor professional 2019 dan simulasi dengan program Computational Fluid Dynamics (CFD) ultimate 2019. Sumber panas pada cabinet dryer digunakan heater/ coil dengan kondisi awal temperatur 140°C dan kecepatan udara yang dihembuskan melewati heater/ coil 2 m/detik. Data diperoleh dengan simulasi pada 52,29 detik dengan iterasi 6853 untuk cabinet dryer bersirip dan 55,57 detik dengan iterasi 6815 untuk cabinet dryer kosong. Capaian rerata temperatur tertinggi terjadi pada cabinet dryer bersirip yaitu 40,5577°C. Distribusi temperatur untuk cabinet dryer kosong mendekati seragam dengan standard deviasi 0,2291 dan rerata kecepatan aliran panas arah sumbu y (vertikal) 24,4736 mm/detik. Pada cabinet dryer bersirip terdistribusi temperatur mendekati seragam dengan standard deviasi temperatur 0,8468 dan kecepatan aliran panas vertikal rerata 24,5625 mm/detik.

This paper presents a new set of archival records from Rome on the discovery of a Roman Republican denarii hoard, found by the brothers Birsilio and Luigi Simonazzi on their lands at Calvatone (Cremona, Italy, 1911). Local police forces seized the hoard and alerted the Coin Cabinet of Brera in Milan, where the numismatist Serafino Ricci (1867–1943) evaluated and finally acquired selected coins to increase the museum collections. The “Calvatone (1911) hoard” is an essential case study in the history of Italian numismatic collections, museum studies, and archaeology. These records are particularly worth studying for two main reasons. They show how local and regional authorities dealt with casual archaeological discoveries in northern Italy during the post-Unification period (1861–1918). They also help us to better understand how the Italian government acted to safeguard antiquities according to contemporary law, and how the state collections could be increased by judicial seizures and fresh acquisitions.

The article is devoted to the first years of existence of the Mints cabinet of the University of St. Volodymyr. Kyiv University of St. Volodymyr was created by decree of Emperor Nicholas I on November 8th (20th) 1833. However, back in September 1833, the State Trustee of the Kyiv Educational District Egor Fedorovich von Bradke issued an order according to which all collections, including numismatic ones, from the Kremenets Lyceum and Vilnius University, closed after the Polish uprising of 1830–1831, should be moved to Kyiv. Actually, this date can be considered the beginning of the existence of the Mints cabinet of St. Volodymyr. In early 1834 M. Y. Yakubovych brought numismatic collection of Kremenets Lyceum from Vilnius to Kyiv. Since at that time Kyiv University did not have its own building, several private houses in Pechersk were rented for this work. M. Y. Yakubovych reported to the University Council that the Kremenets collection consists of 8636 of ancient coins and 9200 coins and medals of the new age. In January 1834, P. O. Yarkovsky was appointed to the post of chief librarian and curator of Mints cabinet. In 1834 he was sent on a business trip to Vilnius, where he had to accept the property and library of the University of Vilnius. In September 1835, along with the library and property, the numismatic collection of Vilnius University, consisting of 2783 coins, arrived in Kyiv. In the following years, the collections of of Theophilpolskyi nobility county school, Uman basilian county school, Lutsk gymnasium were also transferred to the Mints cabinet. In April 1835, the first addition in the «new» Kyiv collection was recorded. Among the donors – the first rector of the University M. O. Maksymovych, governor G. S. Loshkarev, amateur researcher of ancient Kyiv O. S. Anenkov, etc. By the end of 1836, the collection received more than 500 coins and medals. Since 1838, one of the important sources of replenishment of the numismatic collection were treasures, which, by order of Kyiv, Podolskyi, Volyn Governor-General began to come to the university for consideration. During the period from 1838 to 1842, about 20 treasures were examined in the Mints Cabinet. In the new university building, the Mints cabinet received room № 21 on the third floor for arranging the exposition and storing coins. In fact, the Mints cabinet became the first museum institution in Kyiv.

This paper is a study of the Late Roman and Early Byzantine solidi from the province of Scania in southern Sweden and the solidi kept in the coin cabinet of the Lund University History Museum. The catalogue lists 34 solidi and classifies the recorded issues according to modern numismatic standards using the current DOC, MIBE and RIC typologies. It is argued that most of the preserved coins from Scania are probably of different types than those originally imported during the solidus influx to Scandinavia. It is more probable than not that the vast majority of solidi imported to Scania in the fifth century came as war booty with returning veterans. As Scania may have had a more hierarchical structure than other parts of Scandinavia, it seems likely that most solidi were recast as ring gold or jewelry in an effort to concentrate wealth and power to inland central places. The few solidi that remain are mainly found along the shorelines of Scania, many of which are looped and have been worn as pendants. As symbolic manifestations of political alliances, these solidi have served a different function than most solidi preserved elsewhere in Scandinavia, notably on neighboring Bornholm, and Öland.

In 1900 the Berlin coin cabinet acquired a Neapolitan silver didrachm from the Imhoof-Blumer collection. The obverse depicts a head of Athena facing right and wearing a helmet decorated with a laurel branch. The reverse depicts an androcephalous bull walking to the right. The ethnic, in boustrophedon, runs from above the bull’s head, along his back, and then down behind him; it reads ΝΕΟΠΟΛΙ – Τ – ΗΣ.

Magnetic shielding is used to offer protection from stray magnetic fields to devices sensitive to magnetic noise. The Finite element method has been used in order to simulate the magnetic shielding effect of such a chamber in the geomagnetic field. Different designs for the cabinet have been considered and simulated in a static magnetic field of the same magnitude, as geomagnetic field, generated by a cylindrical coil. Several types of materials with different material properties have been simulated, such as high permeable mumetal and conductive aluminum, for the chamber itself, copper for the coil and air as the medium in which the magnetic field is propagating. The influence of geometrical and material properties parameters, like the thickness and the permeability of the ferromagnetic alloy, in the effectiveness of the shielding has been investigated using optimization techniques available in the design optimization module existing in the ANSYS v 14.0 ® finite element analysis software.

Solar powered adsorption refrigeration system is renewable source in the future energy demands and more useful for off-grid area. In this paper a mathematical model was developed to investigate the performance of a cooling cabinet of a activated carbon-ammonia adsorption refrigeration system, and a new effective method about the refrigeration studies. A brief thermodynamic study of the cooling cabinet is carried out and the effect of operating parameters such as temperature, pressure, cooling effect of the system is numerically analyzed. The impact of solar intensity on performance of the system is significant. The cooling cabinet model is completely analysied for varies capacity and it is able to calculate the cooling cabinet coil length .The designed mathematical model is analyzed by the use of coolpack software and the results are compared with ansys software. It is observed that the system operate more efficient while maximum solar intensity and the cooling effect. Key words: Solar, Adsorption Refrigeration, Mathematical model, Analysis, Solar intensity.

Abstract In recent years, many automatic tracking compensation turns-regulating arc suppression coils have been installed in substations to compensate for the increasing capacitive current. However, the frequent occurrence of the fault defects of the arc suppression coil itself has caused a series of new problems, such as causing abnormal bus voltage at the low-voltage side of the substation. Through the analysis and classification of typical faults and defect cases of the complete set of turns-regulating arc suppression coil, it is found that the most vulnerable parts of the device are the on-load tap changer, damping resistance cabinet and control unit. Aiming at the problem that the detection means of the complete arc suppression coil device are insufficient, this paper proposes a new test method, including a compensation characteristic test and relevant accessories test. Based on the new test method, a simulation test platform was built to test 2 sets of turns-regulating arc suppression coil devices. The results show that the new test method has great application value.

The rich collection of the Numismatic Cabinet of the National Museum in Krakow (MNK) includes special sigillographic artefacts, i.e. Drohiczyn-type small lead seals. The collection contains specimens with various iconographic representations, including small seals with images of birds. Similar small seals are known from archaeological excavations conducted in Mazovia. Interestingly, some images impressed on the small seals have analogies with representations on Piast coins from the 12th and 13th century. It is highly likely that the small seals with images of birds are local issues from Mazovia. This is indicated by a characteristic type of bird representations, most probably eagles. This would mean that they were an adaptation of the Ruthenian idea of using small lead seals but with local Piast symbols.

The Museum of Classical Archeology of the Imperial Academy of Sciences is the successor to the 18th-century Kunstkamera of the Academy of Sciences in term of collections of classical antiquities. This article discusses in detail the stages of development of the Museum of Classical Archaeology as an institution within the structure of the Academy of Sciences through the Cabinet of Medals and Rarities, Numismatic Museum, and the Museum of Classical Archaeology. The fund of the museum consisted of ancient Greek and Roman coins, ancient Russian coins, coins from oriental cultures, ancient Greek vases, antiquities from ornamental stone, glass, precious metals, impressions of medals and coins, items from archaeological excavations and treasures, manuscripts, drawings of objects and photographs. Special attention is paid to the correlation of the possibilities of museum collections of the Academy of Sciences and the Imperial Hermitage in terms of storage, exhibition, research, and promotion of archaeological collections in the second half of the 19th century. The reasons for the very active transfer of the Academy of Sciences’ archaeological collections to the Hermitage in the 19th century and the types of compensation received by the Academy for the collections are discussed. The first archaeological collections donated from the Academy of Sciences to the Hermitage on the initiative of the chairman of the Imperial Archaeological Commission S. G. Stroganov were the “Siberian collection” of Peter I and the Melgunov treasure. The collection of the Museum of Classical Archeology also attracted the attention of art critic I. V. Tsvetaev when arranging funds for the new Museum of Fine Arts at Moscow University. The article introduces into scientific circulation archival documents, showing the state of the museum work in the 19th century in the institution of the Academy of Sciences, documents depicting the structure of the Museum of Classical Archaeology, and the composition of collections.

A domestic refrigerator of 5 ft3 capacity is used to study the effect of coiled diameter and pitch distance of a capillary tube. Five capillary tubes of 2 mm in diameter and 1500 mm length each are used, as same as original capillary tube of the refrigerator. The capillary tubes is formed in five shapes, each one has different coil diameter (D) namely 25, 50, 75, 100 and 125 mm in diameter, in addition three distances between each coil (pitch (P)) is tested, namely 6, 8 and 10 mm. The pressure at inlet and outlet of capillary are measured to calculate the cycle COP, as well as the power consumed by the cycle compressor is measured to calculate the mass flow rate of refrigerant. The work show that the coiled diameter of capillary tube affect the cycle COP strongly, as the capillary coiled diameter (D) increases from 25 to 100 mm the cycle COP increases from 2.8 to 3.7 when the cabinet temperature equals to 8oC. The increases of coiled diameter more than 100 mm shows insignificant effect on the cycle COP. While the pitch space of capillary tube coiled shows minor effect on the cycle COP. Moreover, to the mass flow rate of refrigerant increases with approximately ranges from 1.2−2.7

Abstract Passengers’ comfort was strongly affected by the indoor thermal environment in luxury cruise cabins. Based on the installation position of the fan coil unit (FCU), two different air supply modes were proposed. The indoor thermal environment of air-conditioning cabin in luxury cruise summer condition was simulated under Airpak environment with two different air supply modes. The temperature and velocity nephograms of two modes are discussed. The results show that up-supply up-return mode has excellent comfort and is suitable for cruise practical application.

Enclosed in a 1673 letter to Henry Oldenburg were two drawings of a series of astrological sigils, coins and amulets from the collection of Strasbourg mathematician Julius Reichelt (1637–1719). As portrayals of particular medieval and early modern sigils are relatively rare, this paper will analyse the role of these medals in medieval and early modern medicine, the logic behind their perceived efficacy, and their significance in early modern astrological and cabalistic practice. I shall also demonstrate their change in status in the late seventeenth century from potent magical healing amulets tied to the mysteries of the heavens to objects kept in a cabinet for curiosos. The evolving perception of the purpose of sigils mirrored changing early modern beliefs in the occult influences of the heavens upon the body and the natural world, as well as the growing interests among virtuosi in collecting, numismatics and antiquities.

An experimental investigation has been carried out to know about the performance improvement of a household refrigerator using phase change material (PCM). PCMs are used as latent heat thermal storage system to enhance the heat transfer of the evaporator. PCM is located behind the five sides of the evaporator cabinet in which the evaporator coil is immersed. Water (melting point 0°C) and Eutectic solutions (melting point −5°C) are used as PCMs for this experiment at different thermal loads. Depending on the types of PCM and thermal load, around 20–27% COP improvement of the refrigeration cycle has been observed with PCM with respect to without PCM. With the increase of the quantity of PCM (0.003 to 0.00425 m3) COP increases about 6%. Between two different PCMs the COP improvement for Eutectic solution is higher than Water. The experimental results with PCM confirm that, depending on the thermal load and the types of PCM average compressor running time per cycle is reduced significantly and it is found about 2–36% as compared to without PCM.

Open drying is practiced for drying Capsicum frutescens in the cottage industries of India. In order to improve drying, an experimental set-up of solar rack dryer is constructed and studied different heat transfer augmentation techniques. A passive heating coil extended from the header of a water-in-glass evacuated tube coupled with parabolic trough is used to augment the heat in the collector section of the dryer. The drying rate in rack dryer is found to be 62% higher than that of open air drying of green chillies. Moreover, the drying rate in augmented rack dryer is found to be 7% higher than that of rack dryer. In addition to this, an effective design for the dryer cabinet with respect to air circulation is arrived through computational fluid dynamics analysis. Through this new design, the drying rate is improved further by 3%. Based on energy analysis, the specific energy consumption during the drying of this particular product using the augmented dryer is found to be 1.27 kWh/kg. The exergy efficiency of the drying chamber is found to be in the range of 4%-45% with an average of 16% for Capsicum frutescens.

The paper deals with the problems related to the processes of functioning of the Münzkabinett in Nizhyn Higher School. The focus is on the problem of filling the numismatic collection funds with new collections and individual exhibits. The object of the study is a collection of coins and medals, collected by Law Lyceum Professor J.F. Payevsky and "donated" by him to the lyceum, at the request of the management. Throughout its existence, the Münzkabinett was in the status of a non-independent institution. It had not any permanent special room, a separate staff, no funds were allocated for its maintenance. During the entire period, only one fact of allocation of funds for the purchase of new exhibits is recorded. The author concludes that during the specified period, a collection of coins and medals stored in the Münzkabinett did not play any role in the educational, educational and scientific process. However, the existence of the numismatic cabinet contributed to the prestige of the educational institution. In trying to avoid criticism from numerous officials, the Lyceum Board was to buy a private collection in order to increase numismatic exposure. The purchased collection did not solve the task and did not turn the Münzkabinett into a separate, independent research institution. The collection, which J. Payevsky collected for many years was eventually partially lost. The items of the collection were not rare, although it included a number of interesting and valuable exhibits. The existence of a separate description of this collection allows the researchers to partially reproduce its contents, to find out the time of its purchase and its fate. Payevsky himself, who did not want to donate his collection without any payment to the Lyceum Münzkabinett, was very quickly retired.

The aim of this work was the production and characterization of composite Ni matrix electrodeposits. Pure Ni, micro- and nano-SiC Ni matrix composite deposits have been produced from a Watts’s-type electroplating bath under both direct (DC) and pulse current (PC) conditions. The obtained deposits have been characterized regarding their microstructure by scanning electron microscopy (SEM) observations on both top surface and cross-section and their SiC content by energy-dispersive X-ray spectrometry (EDXS) and glow discharge optical emission spectrometry (GDOES) analyses. The resistance to localized corrosion has been evaluated by exposing the samples in a salt spray cabinet and performing visual observation as well as electrochemical impedance spectroscopy (EIS) measurements every five days. Both the use of PC and the codeposition of the nanoparticles lead to a grain refinement of the Ni matrix. The use of the PC did not influence in a significant way the resistance of the pure Ni deposits to the localized corrosion. The incorporation of micro-SiC led to a decrease of the corrosion resistance for the deposits produced under DC, while the microcomposites produced under PC presented a corrosion resistance comparable to the pure Ni deposits. The nanocomposites presented the highest corrosion resistance due to the more compact and fine-grained microstructure. EIS revealed the presence of a localized corrosion attack earlier than the visual observation, giving useful information about the failure mechanism.

In June 1744, Abbot Barthlemy arrived in Paris with many letters of recommendation. One of these letters was given to Claude de Boze, curator of the royal Cabinet des Mdailles. Soon the young abbot was recruited as an assistant to de Boze and began active work in the field of numismatics. A few years later, with the help of patrons and friends, Barthlemy was elected as a member of the Acadmie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, where he made several presentations immediately recognized by the scholarly community. One of them was the first part of the Essai dune Palographie Numismatique, which proposed a new method for its time for attribution and systematization of the most archaic coins in the Mediterranean. However, Barthlemy did not pursue systematic work on the subject being for many years distracted, among other things, by writing his archaeological novel, Voyage du jeune Anacharsis en Grce. This work brought the author worldwide fame and recognition of the general public. At the end of his life, he nevertheless continued to work on his Palographie and was very sorry that he would not have time to finish it. The scholars contemporaries and biographers noted that this delay cost Barthlemy the honorable place of the founder of modern numismatics.

This study addresses the possibility of adopting semi-active magnetorheological elastomers–based isolators for protecting lightweight structures from ground vibration. The exploitation of these smart devices has the main advantage of controlling their stiffness and damping features by acting on the magnetic field generated by a coil on the basis of the actual conditions of both the lightweight structure and the surrounding environment. This allows for combining the reliability of passive devices with the benefits of active control methods. Both mechanical and control system designs could play a crucial role in the challenging problem of improving isolation performances. To solve this issue, we (i) suggest a novel ball transfer unit–magnetorheological elastomer–based isolation system prototype to obtain an improved isolation response of the lightweight structure with respect to the exclusive use of an magnetorheological elastomer and (ii) propose a novel robust combined neural network and model-predictive control approach, allowing proper functioning of the ball transfer unit–magnetorheological elastomer–based isolation system. The effectiveness of the proposed semi-active isolator in guaranteeing vibrational isolation of lightweight structures is evaluated by considering a rack cabinet composed of three storeys and subject to an El Centro earthquake. Numerical simulations confirm and disclose the efficacy of the proposed approach.

It is known that circuit breakers (CBs) installed in distribution cabinets (DCs), better known as “enclosed circuit breakers”, depending on the execution, are designed for: protection against emergency states of grids: overvoltage and short circuit (s/c) or voltage drop below the permissible level (circuit breakers installed on the grid do not always provide protection against voltage reduction); protection of AC motors, as well as for combined installation with other electric devices (CBs can service by grid sections as well as separate motors if CBs are used to operate the wound-rotor motor or starting devices, they must include voltage drop protection); to be used as disconnectors for supply and trunk networks. Overcurrent protection is done by a bimetallic plate, while an electromagnetic releaser provides s/c protection. The main features inherent in this technical solution of overcurrent protection include: relative dependence on ambient temperature; inability to quickly switch on again after the CB is triggered; unstable time-current characteristics of the CB. National Technical University of Ukraine “Igor Sikorsky Kyiv Polytechnic Institute” and «E.NEXT Ukraine» offers an alternative solution for the design of CB protection elements, which is an integrated overcurrent and short circuit protection at the same time in the form of a releaser with an electro – hydraulic retarder. A releaser with an electro-hydraulic retarder triggers the СB actuator, which breaks the contact group of the CB when the current exceeding the set maximum permissible value (s/c or overcurrent) is passing through electrical equipment. The main part of this releaser is an electromagnet, whose coil is connected in series with working contacts in the circuit of the operating current.

The purpose of this study was to develop a vertical seismic isolation device essential for the three-dimensional seismic isolation design of nuclear power plant equipment. The vertical seismic isolation device in this study has a concept that can be integrally combined with a conventional laminated rubber bearing, a horizontal seismic isolator with a design vertical load of 10 kN. To develop the vertical seismic isolation device, the vertical spring and the seismic energy dissipation device capable of limiting the vertical displacement of the spring were designed and their performances were verified through actual tests. In this study, the target elevation of the floor is 136 ft, where safety-related nuclear equipment, such as cabinet and remote shutdown console, etc., is installed. The sensitivity studies were carried out to investigate the optimal design vertical isolation frequencies for the target building elevation. Based on the results of the sensitivity study, a disc spring and a helical coil spring were selected for the vertical stiffness design, and the steel damper was selected for the seismic energy dissipation, and their performance characteristics were tested to confirm the design performance. For the steel damper, three types were designed and their energy dissipation characteristics by hysteretic behavior were confirmed by the inelastic finite element analyses and the tests in static fully reversed cyclic conditions. Through the study of the vertical seismic isolation device, it was found that 2.5 Hz~3.0 Hz is appropriate for the optimal design vertical isolation. With results of the vertical seismic isolation performance analysis, the appropriate number of steel dampers are proposed to limit the vertical seismic displacement of the spring within the static displacement range by the design vertical load.

Abstract: This paper presents Internet of Thing (I.O.T) based monitoring & control of circuit breaker. Circuit breaker is an important component of Industrial Electrical System. It is used for protection & switching. Hence, reliable operation of circuit breaker is essential. Circuit breaker ages over time & number of operations. This raises a concern regardingreliability of circuit breaker operation. In order to ascertain reliability of circuit breaker, it is general practice to carry out preventive maintenance at fixed time intervals. The main disadvantage of this maintenance approach is unnecessary downtime & offline usage of separate diagnostics equipment although the circuit breaker is healthy. This increases the maintenance cost of circuit breakers. Moreover, in presentpractice, the control of circuit breaker is realized through hardwired control logic which increases the size of control & metering cabinet of the circuit breaker & prevents integration of Internet of Things. This put a limitation on decision makingprocess as circuit breakers data are not accessible on the fly. Presently monitoring of circuit breaker is being carried out through proprietary solutions like Remote Terminal Units & SCADA. Proprietary solution raises a concern regarding reliability & security of the safety/safety related/strategic application as the backend implementation of proprietary solution is not accessible by the user. In this paper, an attempt was made to develop monitoring & control scheme of a typical circuit breaker using Arduino Mega 2560 embedded microcontroller along with Ethernet Shield for integration of Internet of Things. Circuit breaker parameters like load current, trip coil current, close coil current, spring charging motor current, number of closing operations, number of tripping operations etc. are monitored. The monitored data are uploaded to Internet of Things platform “ThingSpeaks” in order to make circuit breaker data available on the fly for effective decision making. Monitored circuit breaker parameters are used to determine health of the circuit breaker in order to ascertain its reliable operation & to determine its maintenance/replacement needs. This paper is an effort to develop automated circuit breaker monitoring & control systems that diagnose the electrical and mechanical health of circuit breaker in real time. This is a shift in the maintenance paradigm from time-based maintenance to as- needed maintenance. This shift comes with the benefit of maintaining adequate circuit breaker performance while reducing overall maintenance costs & unnecessary downtime. Moreover, open source platform is used which eliminates the concern regarding reliability & security of the safety/safety related/strategic application as complete source code implementation is open & fully accessible by the user.

The art collection of István Marczibányi (1752–1810), remembered as the benefactor of the Hungarian nation, who devoted a great part of his fortune to religious, educational, scientific and social goals, is generally known as a collection of ‘national Antiquities’ of Hungary. This opinion was already widespread in Hungarian publicity at the beginning of the 19th century, when Marczibányi pledged that he would enrich the collection of the prospective Hungarian national Museum with his artworks. But the description of his collection in Pál Wallaszky’s book Conspectus reipublicae litterariae in Hungaria published in 1808 testifies to the diversity and international character of the collection. In the Marczibányi “treasury”, divided into fourteen units, in addition to a rich cabinet for coins and medals there were mosaics, sculptures, drinking vessels, filigree-adorned goldsmiths’ works, weapons, Chinese art objects, gemstones and objects carved from them (buttons, cameos, caskets and vases), diverse marble monuments and copper engravings. Picking, for example, the set of sculptures, we find ancient Egyptian, Greek and Ro man pieces as well as mediaeval and modern masterpieces arranged by materials.After the collector’s death, his younger brother Imre Marczibányi (1755–1826) and his nephews Márton (1784–1834), János (1786–1830), and Antal (1793–1872) jointly inherited the collection housed in a palace in dísz tér (Parade Square) in Buda. In 1811, acting on the promise of the deceased, the family donated a selection of artworks to the national Museum: 276 cut gems, 9 Roman and Byzantine imperial gold coins, 35 silver coins and more than fifty antiquities and rarities including 17th and 18th-century goldsmiths’ works, Chinese soap-stone statuettes, ivory carvings, weapons and a South Italian red-figure vase, too. However, this donation did not remain intact as one entity. With the emergence of various specialized museums in the last third of the 19th century, a lot of artworks had been transferred to the new institutions, where the original provenance fell mostly into oblivion.In the research more than a third of the artworks now in the Hungarian national Museum, the Museum of Applied Arts and the Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest could be identified, relying on the first printed catalogue of the Hungarian national Museum (1825) titled Cimeliotheca Musei Nationalis Hungarici, and the handwritten acquisition registers. The entries have revealed that fictitious provenances were attached to several items, since the alleged or real association with prominent historical figures played an important role in the acquisition strategies of private collectors and museums alike at the time. For example, an ivory carving interpreted in the Cimeliotheca as the reliquary of St Margaret of Hungary could be identified with an object in the Metalwork Collection of the Museum of Applied Arts (inv. no. 18843), whose stylistic analogies and parallels invalidate the legendary origin: the bone plates subsequently assembled as a front of a casket were presumably made in a Venetian workshop at the end of the 14th century.There are merely sporadic data about the network of István Marczibányi’s connections as a collector, and about the history of his former collection remaining in the possession of his heirs. It is known that collector Miklós Jankovich (1772–1846) purchased painted and carved marble portraits around 1816 from the Marczi bányi collection, together with goldsmiths’ works including a coconut cup newly identified in the Metalwork Collection of the Museum of Applied Arts (inv. no. 19041). The group of exquisite Italian Cinquecento bronze statuettes published by art historian Géza Entz (1913–1993), was last owned as a whole by Antal Marczibányi (nephew of István) who died in 1872. These collection of small bronzes could have also been collected by István Marczibányi, then it got scattered through inheritance, and certain pieces of it landed in north American and European museums as of the second third of the 20th century. Although according to Entz’s hypothesis the small bronzes were purchased by István’s brother Imre through the mediation of sculptor and art collector István Ferenczy (1792–1956) studying in Rome, there is no written data to verify it. By contrast, it is known that the posthumous estate of István Marczibányi included a large but not detailed collection of classical Roman statues in 1811, which the heirs did not donate to the national Museum. It may be presumed that some of the renaissance small bronzes of mythological themes following classical prototypes were believed to be classical antiquities at the beginning of the 19th century. Further research will hopefully reveal more information about the circumstances of their acquisition.

Publicamos una pequeña serie de monedas, relacionadas con las piezas conocidas inicialmente como de ejemplares “tipo Auriol”. Se trata de varias imitaciones greco-massaliotas, relacionadas con el ciclo numismático griego del Occidente mediterráneo. La importante novedad de las mismas se fundamenta en el lugar de hallazgo, pues este se ha producido en una zona interior de la Península Ibérica, donde hasta el momento no se había documentado el descubrimiento de numismas de este tipo. Palabras clave: moneda, imitaciones, edetanosTopónimos: Massalia, Emporion, AuriolPeriodo: Edetanos ABSTRACTThe text presents a small series of coins, similar to those initially known as "Auriol type". These are various Greek-Massalian imitations, related to the Greek numismatic cycle of the Western Mediterranean. 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AbstractThe nucleus of the collection of paintings in the Mauritshuis around 130 pictures - came from the hereditary stadholder Prince William v. It is widely believed to have become, the property of the State at the beginning of the 19th century, but how this happened is still. unclear. A hand-written notebook on this subject, compiled in 1876 by - the director Jonkheer J. K. L. de Jonge is in the archives of the Mauritshuis Note 4). On this basis a clnsor systematic and chronological investigation has been carried out into the stadholder's. property rights in respect of his collectcons and the changes these underwent between 1795 and 1816. Royal decrees and other documents of the period 1814- 16 in particular giae a clearer picture of whal look place. 0n 18 January 1795 William V (Fig. 2) left the Netherlands and fled to England. On 22 January the Dutch Republic was occupied by French armies. Since France had declared war on the stadholder, the ownership of all his propergy in the Netherlands, passed to France, in accordance with the laws of war of the time. His famous art collections on the Builerth of in. The Hague were taken to Paris, but the remaining art objects, distributed over his various houses, remained in the Netherlands. On 16 May 1795 the French concluded a treaty with the Batavian Republic, recognizing it as an independent power. All the properties of William v in the Netehrlands but not those taken to France, were made over to the Republic (Note 14), which proceeded to sell objects from the collections, at least seven sales taking place until 1798 (Note 15). A plan was then evolved to bring the remaining treasures together in a museum in emulation of the French. On the initiative of J. A. Gogel, the Nationale Konst-Galerij', the first national museum in the .Netherlands, was estahlished in The Hague and opened to the public on ,31 May 1800. Nothing was ever sold from lhe former stadholder's library and in 1798 a Nationale Bibliotheek was founded as well. In 1796, quite soon after the French had carried off the Stadholder, possessions to Paris or made them over to the Batavian Republic, indemnification was already mentioned (Note 19). However, only in the Trealy of Amiens of 180 and a subaequent agreement, between France ararl Prussia of 1 802, in which the Prince of Orarage renounced his and his heirs' rights in the Netherlands, did Prussia provide a certain compensation in the form of l.artds in Weslphalia and Swabia (Note 24) - William v left the management of these areas to the hereditary prince , who had already been involved in the problems oncerning his father's former possessions. In 1804 the Balavian Republic offered a sum of five million guilders 10 plenipotentiaries of the prince as compensation for the sequestrated titles and goods, including furniture, paintings, books and rarities'. This was accepted (Notes 27, 28), but the agreement was never carried out as the Batavian Republic failed to ratify the payment. In the meantime the Nationale Bibliolkeek and the Nationale Konst-Galerij had begun to develop, albeit at first on a small scale. The advent of Louis Napoleon as King of Hollarad in 1806 brought great changes. He made a start on a structured art policy. In 1806 the library, now called `Royal', was moved to the Mauritshuis and in 1808 the collectiorts in The Hague were transferred to Amsterdam, where a Koninklijk Museum was founded, which was housed in the former town hall. This collection was subsequertly to remain in Amsterdam, forming the nucleus of the later Rijksmuseum. The library too was intended to be transferred to Amsterdam, but this never happened and it remained in the Mauritshuis until 1819. Both institutions underwent a great expansion in the period 1806-10, the library's holdings increasing from around 10,000 to over 45,000 books and objects, while the museum acquired a number of paintings, the most important being Rembrandt's Night Watch and Syndics, which were placed in the new museum by the City of Amsterdam in 1808 (Note 44). In 1810 the Netherlands was incorporated into France. In the art field there was now a complete standstill and in 1812 books and in particular prints (around 11,000 of them) were again taken from The Hague to Paris. In November 1813 the French dominion was ended and on 2 December the hereditary prince, William Frederick, was declared sovereign ruler. He was inaugurated as constitutional monarch on 30 March 1814. On January 3rd the provisional council of The Hague had already declared that the city was in (unlawful' possession of a library, a collection of paintings, prints and other objects of art and science and requested the king tot take them back. The war was over and what had been confiscated from William under the laws of war could now be given back, but this never happened. By Royal Decree of 14 January 1814 Mr. ( later Baron) A. J. C. Lampsins (Fig. I ) was commissioned to come to an understanding with the burgomaster of The Hague over this transfer, to bring out a report on the condition of the objects and to formulate a proposal on the measures to be taken (Note 48). On 17 January Lampsins submitted a memorandum on the taking over of the Library as the private property of His Royal Highness the Sovereign of the United Netherlartds'. Although Lampsins was granted the right to bear the title 'Interim Director of the Royal Library' by a Royal Decree of 9 February 1814, William I did not propose to pay The costs himself ; they were to be carried by the Home Office (Note 52). Thus he left the question of ownership undecided. On 18 April Lampsins brought out a detailed report on all the measures to be taken (Appendix IIa ) . His suggestion was that the objects, formerly belonging to the stadholder should be removed from the former royal museum, now the Rijksmuseum, in Amsterdam and to return the 'Library', as the collectiort of books, paintings and prints in The Hague was called, to the place where they had been in 1795. Once again the king's reaction was not very clear. Among other things, he said that he wanted to wait until it was known how extensive the restitution of objects from Paris would be and to consider in zvhich scholarly context the collections would best, fit (Note 54) . While the ownership of the former collections of Prince William I was thus left undecided, a ruling had already been enacted in respect of the immovable property. By the Constitution of 1814, which came into effect on 30 March, the king was granted a high income, partly to make up for the losses he had sulfered. A Royal Decree of 22 January 1815 does, however, imply that William had renounced the right to his, father's collections, for he let it be known that he had not only accepted the situation that had developed in the Netherlands since 1795, but also wished it to be continued (Note 62). The restitution of the collections carried off to France could only be considered in its entirety after the defeat of Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo on 18 June 1815- This was no simple matter, but in the end most, though not all, of the former possessions of William V were returned to the Netherlands. What was not or could not be recovered then (inc.uding 66 paintings, for example) is still in France today (Note 71)- On 20 November 1815 127 paintings, including Paulus Potter's Young Bull (Fig. 15), made a ceremonial entry into The Hague. But on 6 October, before anything had actually been returned, it had already been stipulated by Royal Decree that the control of the objects would hence forlh be in the hands of the State (Note 72). Thus William I no longer regarded his father's collections as the private property of the House of Orange, but he did retain the right to decide on the fulure destiny of the... painting.s and objects of art and science'. For the time being the paintings were replaced in the Gallery on the Buitenhof, from which they had been removed in 1795 (Note 73). In November 1815 the natural history collection was made the property of Leiden University (Note 74), becoming the basis for the Rijksmuseum voor Natuurlijke Historie, The print collection, part of the Royal Library in The Hague, was exchanged in May 1816 for the national collectiort of coins and medals, part of the Rijksmuseum. As of 1 Jufy 1816 directors were appointed for four different institutions in The Hague, the Koninklijke Bibliotheek (with the Koninklijk Penningkabinet ) , the Koninklijk Kabinet van Schilderijen and the Yoninklijk Kabinet van Zeldzaamheden (Note 80) . From that time these institutions led independenl lives. The king continued to lake a keen interest in them and not merely in respect of collecting Their accommodation in The Hague was already too cramped in 1816. By a Royal Decree of 18 May 1819 the Hotel Huguetan, the former palace of the. crown prince on Lange Voorhout, was earmarked for the Koninklijke Bibliotheek and the Koninklijk Penningkabinet (Note 87) . while at the king's behest the Mauritshuis, which had been rented up to then, was bought by the State on 27 March 1820 and on IO July allotted to the Koninklijk Kabinet van Schilderijen and the Koninklijk Kabinet van Zeldzaamheden (Note 88). Only the Koninklijk Kabinet van Schilderijen is still in the place assigned to it by William and the collection has meanwhile become so identified with its home that it is generally known as the Mauritshui.s'. William i's most important gift was made in July 1816,just after the foundation of the four royal institutions, when he had deposited most of the objects that his father had taken first to England and later to Oranienstein in the Koninklijk Kabinet van Zeldzaamheden. The rarities (Fig. 17), curios (Fig. 18) and paintings (Fig. 19), remained there (Note 84), while the other art objects were sorted and divided between the Koninklijke Bibliotheek (the manuscripts and books) and the koninklijk Penningkabinet (the cameos and gems) (Note 85). In 1819 and 182 the king also gave the Koninklijke Bibliotheek an important part of the Nassau Library from the castle at Dillenburg. Clearly he is one of the European monarchs who in the second half of the 18th and the 19th century made their collectiorts accessible to the public, and thus laid the foundatinns of many of today's museums. But William 1 also made purchases on behalf of the institutions he had created. For the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, for example, he had the 'Tweede Historiebijbel', made in Utrecht around 1430, bought in Louvain in 1829 for 1, 134 guilders (Pigs.30,3 I, Note 92). For the Koninkijk Penningkabinet he bought a collection of 62 gems and four cameos , for ,50,000 guilders in 1819. This had belonged to the philosopher Frans Hemsterhuis, the keeper of his father's cabinet of antiquities (Note 95) . The most spectacular acquisition. for the Penninukabinet., however, was a cameo carved in onyx, a late Roman work with the Triumph of Claudius, which the king bought in 1823 for 50,000 guilders, an enormous sum in those days. The Koninklijk Kabinet van Zeldzaamhedert also received princely gifts. In 1821- the so-called doll's house of Tzar Peter was bought out of the king's special funds for 2.800 guilders (Figs.33, 34, ,Note 97) , while even in 1838, when no more money was available for art, unnecessary expenditure on luxury' the Von Siebold ethnographical collection was bought at the king's behest for over 55,000 guilders (Note 98). The Koninklijk Kabinel van Schilderyen must have been close to the hearl of the king, who regarded it as an extension of the palace (Notes 99, 100) . The old master paintings he acquzred for it are among the most important in the collection (the modern pictures, not dealt with here, were transferred to the Paviljoen Welgelegen in Haarlem in 1838, Note 104). For instance, in 1820 he bought a portrait of Johan Maurice of Nassau (Fig.35)., while in 1822, against the advice of the then director, he bought Vermeer' s View of Delft for 2,900 guilders (Fig.36, Note 105) and in 1827 it was made known, from Brussels that His Majesty had recommended the purchase of Rogier van der Weyden's Lamentation (Fig.37) . The most spectacular example of the king's love for 'his' museum, however, is the purchase in 1828 of Rembrandt's Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp for 32,000 guilders. The director of the Rijksmuseum, C. Apostool, cortsidered this Rembrandt'sfinest painting and had already drawn attention to it in 1817, At the king'.s behest the picture, the purchase of which had been financed in part by the sale of a number of painlings from. the Rijksmuseum, was placed in the Koninklijk Kabinet van Schilderijen in The Hague. On his accession King William I had left the art objects which had become state propery after being ceded by the French to the Batavian Republic in 1795 as they were. He reclaimed the collections carried off to France as his own property, but it can be deduced from the Royal Decrees of 1815 and 1816 that it Was his wish that they should be made over to the State, including those paintings that form the nucleus of the collection in the Mauritshuis. In addition, in 1816 he handed over many art objects which his father had taken with him into exile. His son, William II, later accepted this, after having the matter investigated (Note 107 and Appendix IV). Thus William I'S munificence proves to have been much more extensive than has ever been realized.

AbstractCorporate boards, experts panels, parliaments, cabinets, and even nations all take important decisions as a group. Selecting an efficient decision rule to aggregate individual opinions is paramount to the decision quality of these groups. In our experiment we measure revealed preferences over and efficiency of several important decision rules. Our results show that: (1) the efficiency of the theoretically optimal rule is not as robust as simple majority voting, and efficiency rankings in the lab can differ from theory; (2) participation constraints often hinder implementation of more efficient mechanisms; (3) these constraints are relaxed if the less efficient mechanism is risky; (4) participation preferences appear to be driven by realized rather than theoretic payoffs of the decision rules. These findings highlight the difficulty of relying on theory alone to predict what mechanism is better and acceptable to the participants in practice.

AbstractThe Polybius conspiracy theory has been featured in numerous contemporary pop cultural works from The Simpsons to Loki. The conspiracy theory suggests that a government created arcade cabinet was installed in numerous video arcades in the early 1980s as a means of experimenting on unsuspecting children. While the theory itself remains an outlandish and nostalgic remnant of 1980s culture, this paper traces the very real history of suburban border policing, classism, racism, and sensationalism that ultimately gave rise to the enduring myth of Polybius.

Abstract This article focuses on how Balzacian interiors and their dwellers signal a new experience and understanding of the past and the present that emerged during the Revolution and its aftermath. In this context, two interiors are analyzed: the interior of the Hôtel d’Esgrignon in Le Cabinet des Antiques and the antique shop passage in La Peau de chagrin. Both literary interiors in different ways embody traces of an “absent present” and constitute a solipsist mimesis of reciprocity between dweller and dwelling. These literary interiors signal fundamental aspects of a century that was marked by the loss of the past to history and by the experience of present time as but an elusive, fragile trace. Like the two sides of the same coin, this was also the time of vivification of absent images that are simulated, imitated in interiors of presentification, like the stereographic cabinet or the panoramic theatre. These interiors radicalize the traditional cabinet and its imagery, like Walter Benjamin’s typification of the window shop and the panoramic theatre would show. The Hôtel d’Esgrignon substantiates an absence-less presence with reality. Balzac conceives the mimetic relationship between the cénacle des antiques and its Hôtel as a sophisticated subtext that reveals the illusionary nature of the ambition to establish such an absolute present. Those who reside in the Hôtel constitute the object-like and lifeless parody of a dynamics of representation played out and that reveals the fundamental absence they stand for. In La Peau de chagrin, isolated objects are fragmented, eclectic bits and pieces of representations that are vivified, and not imitated, by imagination. The cabinet as a place that is the objects it arranges and shows, is internalized as a mental space of imagination, of hyperbolic possibilities of representational assemblage. The hybridity of its visitor is that of imagination itself being represented. Here, Balzac points forward to a literary development in which spatial settings, par excellence that of a vast, fantastic, endless space, will become an image of (literary) representation itself. This paper is published as part of a collection on interiorities.

Easy-to-use methods to disinfect microbes on seeds are not available. In the present study, rice 30 seeds were irradiated by 274 nanometer germicidal ultraviolet proton in a biosafe flow cabinet. Seeds (10) without any barrier, in a sterilized mesh bag, or in a sterilized coin envelope were removed each day with sterilized forceps for seven days after UV irradiation and then were placed in nutrient agar media in a dark incubator at 29°C for three days, after which the number of seeds contaminated with bacteria and/or fungi were counted. At the same time, 10 seeds each time were removed from each UV treatment, and kept in a dark incubator at 40 °C for five days to determine the germination rate. Both bacterial and fungal infection rates declined significantly over time. The germination rate with an average of (90% ±7.1) did not change significantly over time. There was no significant difference among treatments for germination rate or fungal infection rate. The UV irradiation of seeds in mesh bags had the strongest effect on reducing bacterial infection rates over time, whereas the direct UV irradiation had a weaker effect on bacterial infection rates than the UV irradiation of seeds in mesh bags. We suggest that UV irradiation of seeds in mesh bags be used to reduce seed bacterial contamination.

The vapour compression refrigeration system (VCRS) plays a vital role in the food preservation and it consumes more energy. The use of energy-efficient refrigerants, phase change materials (PCMs) in the condenser and evaporator, and the replacement of existing components, as well as nano-refrigerants, are all efforts made to increase the energy efficiency of the VCRS from different perspectives. Among them, the PCMs play a prominent role and gives sustainable energy efficiency in VCRS. This paper investigates and clarifies the energy efficiency of VCRS can be improved by incorporating a PCM into the evaporator cabin. The experimental results demonstrated substantial effects on system performance such as an improvement in COP of 7.1%, a decrease in per day energy consumption by 6.7%, and comparatively smaller temperature fluctuations within the freezer cabinet. The exergy efficiency is increased and Total Equivalent Warming Impact (TEWI) is decreasing than that of the system without PCM by 7.6 and 7% respectively. This technique is integrated into the VCRS, leading to savings in energy while also being useful for power interruptions common in areas with low grid reliability.

The numismatic collection of the Banat Museum in Timişoara includes two rare bronze medals dedicated to members of the well known Weifert family from Pančevo (Serbia). One is a medal dedicated to Ignaz Weifert on his 64th anniversary by his son Georg Weifert, crafted by the Austrian engraver Anton Schar (1845 – 1903). The second one is dedicated to Georg Weifert on his 44th anniversary, created by the Austrian engraver Franz Xaver Pawlik (1865 – 1906). They were purchased in 1907 by the Banat Museum from Fejér József, antiquarian in Budapest, for the sum of 22 crowns. The medals were given inventory numbers 731 and 732 in the old register of the collections. The medal dedicated to Ignaz Weifert (1826 – 1911) is made of bronze, patinated (55.5 mm; inventory no 136; Pl. I.1 – 2). It is generally but wrongly dated in 1870. Given the marked date (MDCCCLXX), one considers that it had been realized on the occasion of Ignaz Weifert’s 20th year of industrial activity. Actually, one thousand eight hundred seventy represents the year of establishment for the Weifert brewery in Belgrade. There are several arguments in favor of a correct dating of the coin (i.e. 1890): the age of Ignaz Weifert, marked on the obverse of the medal (LXIV), as he fulfilled 64 in the year 1890. Secondly, the medal is mentioned among the works of the engraver Anton Schar from 1890 (in the same year Schar had also realized a plaque, 136 mm in diameter, with the portrait of Ignaz Weifert). More so, Felix Milleker affirmed in his study on the Weifert family that in December 1890 Georg Weifert dedicated a medal to his father Ignaz, crafted by the Austrian engraver Anton Schar (Milleker 1925, 11).The second medal, dedicated to Georg Weifert (1850 – 1937) on his 44th anniversary is made of bronze, has 52.2 mm in diameter (inventory no 84; Pl. III.1 – 2) and was created by Franz Xaver Pawlik in 1894. The same engraver had molded a medal dedicated to Ignaz and Georg Weifert in 1903, in two variants: 25 mm and 140 mm in diameter. We know about the existence of a 25 mm medal as part of a private collection in Timişoara. Originally from north Austria, the Weiferts settled in Banat during the first half of the 18th century, initially in Vršac, where from a certain Georg Weifert (1798 – 1887) moved to Pančevo. Here he became one of the prominent local merchants and, from 1841, the owner of the brewery (established in 1722). In 1849 the elder son of Georg, Ignaz Weifert (Ignjat Vajfert in Serbian) assumed the control of the brewery, after previously following a course of beer making in Munich (Bavaria). After expansion and modernization, the family business thrived and the Weifert brewery in Pančevo became one of the most important enterprises of the kind from Banat (Pl. II.1). In 1870 Ignaz expanded the business by building a new brewery in Belgrade, first in Serbia in time, on the Smutekovac Hill (nowadays Topčider). His son, Georg Weifert (Đorđe Vajfert in Serbian) took over its control in 1872. The Weifert brewery from Pančevo remained in care of Ignaz and his son Hugo. The one to become General Governor of the National Bank of Serbia, mighty industrialist and pioneer of modern mining in Serbia, Georg Weifert (Pl. IV) was born on June 15, 1850 in Pančevo. After elementary and secondary studies in Pančevo, he studied at the Commercial School in Budapest. Between 1869 and 1872 he followed the technology courses in brew at the Agricultural School in Weihenstephan, near Munich. He was 22 when he took his father’s brewery from Belgrade, which he modernized and turn into one of the most largest and modern of its kind from the Balkans (Pl. II.2). The Weifert beer became the most sought beer in Serbia. As one of the most rich and inuential person in Serbia, he is remembered as a great philanthropist, Maecenas for numerous institutions, cultural and charitable societies. He was awarded the highest Serbian and also French, Romanian or other orders. For decades he held the most important positions in the Serbian and Yugoslav Masonic lodges. He was married to Marie Gassner but had no ospring. In 1923, on the occasion of celebrating 50 years of marriage, he financed the building of St. Ana Church in Pančevo, in memory of his mother Anna. In the same year he was elected honorary citizen of his home city. He died aged 87 on January 12, 1937, at his villa on Vojvode Putnika Street. He was buried on January 16 in the Catholic cemetery in Pančevo, left of the portal built in 1924 on his expenses. The name Weifert is also associated with the well-known numismatic collection owned by this family, of which three members were passionate collectors: Ignaz and his sons, Hugo and Georg. The one who settle the collection (around 1878) was Hugo (1852 – 1885). After his early death in 1885, aged only 33, the collection passed to his father Ignaz, who continued to gather coins. In 1911, after the death of Ignaz, the numismatic collection passed to Georg Weifert. All three of them had been members of the Numismatic Society in Vienna: Hugo from 1879, Ignaz from 1885 and Georg from 1889. Although the members of Weifert family collected all kind of Greek and Roman coins, it seems that Hugo was the one passionate for medals concerning Belgrade, Ignaz paid special attention to Viminacium issued coins while Georg was interested in 4th century AD Roman coins. The numismatic collection held antique coins: Greek, Celtic and Roman, Byzantine coins, medieval Serbian ones, taler from Central Europe, medals concerning Belgrade etc. The Republican and Imperial Roman coins dated to 1st – 5th c. AD compose the largest part of the collection, including numerous rarities. There are also Roman colonial coins issued by the cities in the Balkans, especially Viminacium and from Asia Minor. Today we hold no longer information on the ending place of these coins, except for the golden Late Roman solidi found in the spring of 1879 near Borča, that are to be considered among the most valuable pieces of the collection. The PMS COL VIM type coins, issued between 239 and 255 AD in Viminacium (today Stari Kostolac, Serbia) are also important, although the collection does not comprise the complete series and all the variants. One can notice the interest of the Weiferts in collecting this monetary type and the existence of a special relation of the Weifert family with the area of the antique Viminacium (Kostolac). The first coins that entered the Weifert collection came from this area, where Georg held a coal mine and locals often brought him coins for his collection. In two cases, both on the medal dedicated to Georg Weifert in 1894 and on the one dedicated to Ignaz and Georg Weifert in 1903 (the 25 mm variant), realized by Pawlik, there are representations of reverse type of the Roman coins of PMS COL VIM type. The Weifert numismatic collection had been aected by the turmoil of WW I. The rare golden coins held in Belgrade were saved by Georg and taken to France. The rest of the numismatic collection, held in Pančevo, was taken to Vienna by his nephew Adolf Gramberg, where from it came back in 1925, completely disorganized. Unfortunately, the collection of medieval Serbian coins and medals concerning Belgrade that could not be saved disappeared during the war. Georg Weifert donated this valuable collection holding over 14,000 antique coins to the University of Belgrade on September 9, 1923. It had been taken over only in 1929 by Professors Miloje M. Vasić and Nikola Vulić, as representatives of the University, following its arranging by Balduin Saria, custodian of the National Museum in Belgrade and Georg Elmer, a nephew of Hugo Weifert, custodian of the Numismatic Cabinet of Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. After World War II, the Weifert numismatic collection had been handed over to the National Museum in Belgrade, where is kept today.This donation made by Georg Weifert was not a singular act. Ignaz Weifert had donated over time numerous coins, antiquities and maps to the High Gymnasium in Pančevo and the Museum in Vršac. Georg had also donated in 1931 his collection of historic documents (photographs, lithographs, plans and maps) to the City Museum of Belgrade. The medals from the collection of the Banat Museum in Timişoara dedicated to the Weiferts are a testimony for a family that played an important role in the economical history of Banat and Serbia. Its name remains associated with a beer brand especially appreciated over time and for the numismatists with one of the most important collections from the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century.

"So which is the most authentic experience for an end-user steeped in car culture? Real, made-in-Japan Type R? Or virtual, programmed-in-Japan Type-R. Each Type-R is equally enjoyable, equally wieldy, equally consistent -- and precisely fulfils the sporting intent of Honda's Type-R sub-brand. Car culture, then, is so broad, so diverse, that we might now have got to a point where actual driving, all the bum-on-seat, wind-in-hair, aphid-in-teeth, tradly, dadly stuff we were weaned on is peripheral... Who needs reality, anyway?" -- Russell Bulgin, Car Magazine, August 1998 (53) "Such would be the successive phases of the image: it is the reflection of a profound reality; it masks and denatures a profound reality; it masks the absence of a profound reality; it has no relation to any reality whatsoever: it is its own pure simulacrum." (Baudrillard 6) A Personal Prehistory of Racing Sims The very first racing sim I used was an arcade machine on the Gold Coast sometime during the mid-seventies. A coin-operated cabinet where a boy and his dad could stand and move a plastic steering wheel from side to side. This controlled a plastic model racing car attached to a stick. I kid you not. Youth was further misspent on large four-up machines, with a simple overhead view of a square-cornered, maze-like track. Each driver had a certain coloured 'car' to control round the electronic labyrinth in real time. The revolution moved into the living room, and a Hanimex TV game. Something of a poor man's Atari 2600, the driving sim was the overhead view of an endless straight track -- 'driving' was the act of jabbing a joystick left or right to avoid oncoming traffic. Addictive until the repetitive pattern of avoidance was committed to memory. Finally, there was an Apple II --and perhaps my first true racing sim. No overhead imagery, or even representations of cars. Just a first-person view down an imaginary winding road, as the view shuffled left or right using a knob-shaped controller. A Coming of Age Today, reputable motoring journalists dare to compare driving a Honda sports car on a Sony Playstation with driving a Honda Integra in real life, and deriving similar levels of satisfaction from each. This, mind you, on a two-generations-old, soon to be superseded piece of hardware with relatively chunky graphics hooked up to a mildly archaic television screen. Using a couple of buttons as a controller. When the immersion becomes more complete -- when graphics chips render more and more polygons at ever faster speeds, when the visual virtual is displayed on a wrap-around plasma in a real racing helmet, where control is provided by a force-feedback steering wheel in a vibrating bucket seat, what then... The latest racing sim I used was at Sega World in Sydney. Eight IndyCar machines, all giant 50" screens, mechanical vibrating seats and shuddering steering wheels. The physics engines sucked. Purists would call it more of a game, and less of a sim; but I still walked away with sweaty palms, shaky legs and a moment of nausea. But you ain't seen nothing yet... indeed the Nascar Silicon Motor Speedway in the USA has taken the concept to the next appropriate level -- a dozen real Nascar racers mounted on rocking. rolling motion generators in front of enormous projection screens. And So to the Network The crazies buy fibreglass tubs and strap themselves into racing seats. Jacques Villeneuve apparently learnt the layout of F1 tracks from his PC, before he scored a Formula One drive, and promptly went out and won the world championship in his second season. And the real crazies do it to each other. There are dial-in racing boards all over the USA and the racing mob have taken to the Internet in a big way. Nascar runs a league for on-line racers, who participate in a season of speedway much like that of their heroes. Indeed, the official body of V8 metal munchers in the good old USA is talking about running hybrid races -- inserting virtual images onto real races, and allowing online competitors to compete against their heroes in real time. We're a little way from that technologically -- V90 modems and Voodoo II cards may do the job for the moment, but utopian racing simulations will require Moore's Laws for a few more years yet. Nevertheless, it's way less than a single human generation since playing with a car glued to a stick was considered pretty cool. What of It? It may indeed be time to invoke the appropriate french philosopher. Whilst anecdotal evidence exists of world champions learning formula one race tracks using PC simulators, the reality is that racing sims are a simulacrum for most of us. Few of us have the opportunity, let alone the courage, to partake in the act of driving cars fast. Either on the road, on on a race track. Indeed, when it can take 15 minutes to move a mile in peak hour traffic, it is tempting to suggest that the entire notion of car-culture, which this society holds dear to its heart, be moved to simulation, so that the rest of us can just get on with the job of getting from A to B as efficiently as possible. As participants, racing sims -- even driving sims -- don't exist in real life. A daily commute across the harbour bridge is, in reality, nothing like we imagine the real thing should be. Crawling, foot riding on clutch, through slow-moving traffic, is as far from the dream of freedom that the motorcar suggests as, well, as sitting in front of a Playstation or PC. In fact, the computer does more than represent a simulation of driving. It represents the new freedom. The question is though, in Baudrillard's precession of simulacra, where exactly are we at? If one accepts that the reality represented by a racing sim does not exist; then does this new escapism mask the absence of a profound reality? Is the hyperreality that is the sweaty palm on plastic wheel merely a confirmation that we live in a hyperreality? As he describes Disneyland, "it is no longer a question of a false representation of reality ... but of concealing the fact that the real is no longer real" (12). There is no escape machine for the overworked stressed young executive; there is no sports car or highway that can give you a day's respite from the pressures of consumption; there is no road to Tijuana, no Corvette summer, no Highway 66. There is no Bathurst 1000, Le Mans or Monte Carlo where men can be men and leave behind the grinding reality. There is, in fact, no escape at all -- there is only cyberspace! References Jean Baudrillard. "The Precession of Simulacra." Simulacra and Simulation. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1994. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Sherman Young. "Racing Simulacra?" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1.5 (1998). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9812/racing.php>. Chicago style: Sherman Young, "Racing Simulacra?" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1, no. 5 (1998), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9812/racing.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Sherman Young. (1998) Racing simulacra? M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1(5). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9812/racing.php> ([your date of access]).

Saturday, 24 July 1971, Tower Mill Hotel The man jiggles the brick, gauges its weight. His stout hand, a flash of his watch dial, the sleeve rolled back, muscles on the upper arm bundled tight. His face half-erased by the dark. There’s something going on beneath the surface that Murray can’t grasp. He thinks of the three witches in Polanski’s Macbeth, huddled together on the beach, digging a circle in the sand with bare hands, unwrapping their filthy bundle. A ritual. The brick’s in the air and it’s funny but Murray expected it to spin but it doesn’t, it holds its position, arcs forward, as though someone’s taken the sky and pulled it sideways to give the impression of movement, like those chase scenes in the Punch and Judy shows you don’t see anymore. The brick hits the cement and fractures. Red dust on cops’ shined shoes. Murray feels the same sense of shock he’d felt, sitting in the sagging canvas seat at one of his film nights, recognising the witches’ bundle, a severed human arm, hacked off just before the elbow; both times looking so intently, he had no distance or defence when the realisation came. ‘What is it?’ says Lan. Murray points to the man who threw the brick but she is looking the other way, at a cop in a white riot helmet, head like a globe, swollen up as though bitten. Lan stands on Murray’s feet to see. The pig yells through a megaphone: ‘You’re occupying too much of the road. It’s illegal. Step back. Step back.’ Lan’s back is pressed against Murray’s stomach; her bum fits snugly to his groin. He resists the urge to plant his cold hands on her warm stomach, to watch her squirm. She turns her head so her mouth is next to his ear, says, ‘Don’t move.’ She sounds winded, her voice without force. He’s pinned to the ground by her feet. Again, ‘Step back. Step back.’ Next to him, Roger begins a chant. ‘Springboks,’ he yells, the rest of the crowd picking up the chant, ‘out now!’ ‘Springboks!’ ‘Out now!’ Murray looks up, sees a hand pressed against the glass in one of the hotel’s windows, quickly withdrawn. The hand belongs to a white man, for sure. It must be one of the footballers, although the gesture is out of keeping with his image of them. Too timid. He feels tired all of a sudden. But Jacobus Johannes Fouché’s voice is in his head, these men—the Springboks—represent the South African way of life, and the thought of the bastard Bjelke inviting them here. He, Roger and Lan were there the day before when the footballers pulled up outside the Tower Mill Hotel in a black and white bus. ‘Can you believe the cheek of those bastards?’ said Roger when they saw them bounding off the bus, legs the span of Murray’s two hands. A group of five Nazis had been lined up in front of the glass doors reflecting the city, all in uniform: five sets of white shirts and thin black ties, five sets of khaki pants and storm-trooper boots, each with a red sash printed with a black and white swastika tied around their left arms, just above the elbow. The Springboks strode inside, ignoring the Nazi’s salute. The protestors were shouting. An apple splattered wetly on the sidewalk. Friday, 7 April 1972, St Lucia Lan left in broad daylight. Murray didn’t know why this upset him, except that he had a vague sense that she should’ve gone in the night time, under the cover of dark. The guilty should sneak away, with bowed heads and faces averted, not boldly, as though going for an afternoon walk. Lan had pulled down half his jumpers getting the suitcase from the top of the cupboard. She left his clothes scattered across the bedroom, victims of an explosion, an excess of emotion. In the two days after Lan left, Murray scours the house looking for some clue to where she was, maybe a note to him, blown off the table in the wind, or put down and forgotten in the rush. Perhaps there was a letter from her parents, bankrupt, demanding she return to Vietnam. Or a relative had died. A cousin in the Viet Cong napalmed. He finds a packet of her tampons in the bathroom cupboard, tries to flush them down the toilet, but they keep floating back up. They bloat; the knotted strings make them look like some strange water-dwelling creature, paddling in the bowl. He pees in the shower for a while, but in the end he scoops the tampons back out again with the holder for the toilet brush. The house doesn’t yield anything, so he takes to the garden, circles the place, investigates its underbelly. The previous tenant had laid squares of green carpet underneath, off-cuts that met in jagged lines, patches of dirt visible. Murray had set up two sofas, mouldy with age, on the carpeted part, would invite his friends to sit with him there, booze, discuss the state of the world and the problem with America. Roger rings in the afternoon, says, ‘What gives? We were supposed to have lunch.’ Murray says, ‘Lan’s left me.’ He knows he will cry soon. ‘Oh Christ. I’m so sorry,’ says Roger. Murray inhales, snuffs up snot. Roger coughs into the receiver. ‘It was just out of the blue,’ says Murray. ‘Where’s she gone?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘She didn’t say anything?’ ‘No,’ says Murray. ‘She could be anywhere. Maybe you should call the police, put in a missing report,’ says Roger. ‘I’m not too friendly with the cops,’ says Murray, and coughs. ‘You sound a bit crook. I’ll come over,’ says Roger. ‘That’d be good,’ says Murray. Roger turns up at the house an hour later, wearing wide pants and a tight collared shirt with thick white and red stripes. He’s growing a moustache, only cuts his hair when he visits his parents. Murray says, ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’ Roger nods, sits down at the vinyl table with his hands resting on his knees. He says, ‘Are you coming to 291 on Sunday?’ 291 St Paul’s Terrace is the Brisbane Communist Party’s headquarters. Murray says, ‘What’s on?’ ‘Billy needs someone to look after the bookshop.’ Murray gives Roger a mug of tea, sits down with his own mug between his elbows, and cradles his head in his hands so his hair falls over his wrists. After a minute, Roger says, ‘Does her family know?’ Murray makes a strange noise through his hands. ‘I don’t even know how to contact them,’ he says. ‘She wrote them letters—couldn’t afford to phone—but she’s taken everything with her. The address book. Everything.’ Murray knows nothing of the specifics of Lan’s life before she met him. She was the first Asian he’d ever spoken to. She wore wrap-around skirts that changed colour in the sun; grew her hair below the waist; sat in the front row in class and never spoke. He liked the shape of her calf as it emerged from her skirt. He saw her on the great lawn filming her reflection in a window with a Sony Portapak and knew that he wanted her more than anything. Murray seduced her by saying almost nothing and touching her as often as he could. He was worried about offending her. What reading he had done made him aware of his own ignorance, and his friend in Psych told him that when you touch a girl enough — especially around the aureole — a hormone is released that bonds them to you, makes them sad when you leave them or they leave you. In conversation, Murray would put his hand on Lan’s elbow, once on the top of her head. Lan was ready to be seduced. Murray invited her to a winter party in his backyard. They kissed next to the fire and he didn’t notice until the next morning that the rubber on the bottom of his shoe melted in the flames. She moved into his house quickly, her clothes bundled in three plastic bags. He wanted her to stay in bed with him all day, imagined he was John Lennon and she Yoko Ono. Their mattress became a soup of discarded clothes, bread crumbs, wine stains, come stains, ash and flakes of pot. He resented her when she told him that she was bored, and left him, sheets pulled aside to reveal his erection, to go to class. Lan tutored high-schoolers for a while, but they complained to their mothers that they couldn’t understand her accent. She told him her parents wanted her to come home. The next night he tidied the house, and cooked her dinner. Over the green peas and potato—Lan grated ginger over hers, mixed it with chili and soy sauce, which she travelled all the way to Chinatown on a bus to buy—Murray proposed. They were married in the botanic gardens, surrounded by Murray’s friends. The night before his father called him up and said, ‘It’s not too late to get out of it. You won’t be betraying the cause.’ Murray said, ‘You have no idea what this means to me,’ and hung up on him. Sunday, 9 April 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray perches on the backless stool behind the counter in The People’s Bookshop. He has the sense he is on the brink of something. His body is ready for movement. When a man walks into the shop, Murray panics because Billy hadn’t shown him how to use the cash register. He says, ‘Can I help?’ anyway. ‘No,’ says the man. The man walks the length of the shelves too fast to read the titles. He stops at a display of Australiana on a tiered shelf, slides his hand down the covers on display. He pauses at Crocodile Hunt. The cover shows a drawing of a bulky crocodile, scaled body bent in an S, its jaws under the man’s thumb. He picks it up, examines it. Murray thinks it odd that he doesn’t flip it over to read the blurb. He walks around the whole room once, scanning the shelves, reaches Murray at the counter and puts the book down between them. Murray picks it up, turns it over, looking for a price. It’s stuck on the back in faded ink. He opens his mouth to tell the man how much, and finds him staring intently at the ceiling. Murray looks up too. A hairline crack runs along the surface and there are bulges in the plaster where the wooden framework’s swollen. It’s lower than Murray remembers. He thinks that if he stood on his toes he could reach it with the tips of his fingers. Murray looks down again to find the man staring at him. Caught out, Murray mutters the price, says, ‘You don’t have it in exact change, do you?’ The man nods, fumbles around in his pocket for a bit and brings out a note, which he lays at an angle along the bench top. He counts the coins in the palm of his hand. He makes a fist around the coins, brings his hand over the note and lets go. The coins fall, clinking, over the bench. One spins wildly, rolls past Murray’s arm and across the bench. Murray lets it fall. He recognises the man now; it is the act of release that triggers the memory, the fingers spread wide, the wrist bent, the black watch band. This is the man who threw the brick in the Springbok protest. Dead set. He looks up again, expecting to see the same sense of recognition in the man, but he is walking out of the shop. Murray follows him outside, leaving the door open and the money still on the counter. The man is walking right along St Paul’s Terrace. He tucks the book under his arm to cross Barry Parade, as though he might need both hands free to wave off the oncoming traffic. Murray stands on the other side of the road, unsure of what to do. When Murray came outside, he’d planned to hail the man, tell him he recognised him from the strike and was a fellow comrade. They give discounts to Communist Party members. Outside the shop, it strikes him that perhaps the man is not one of them at all. Just because he was at the march doesn’t make him a communist. Despite the unpopularity of the cause —‘It’s just fucking football,’ one of Murray’s friends had said. ‘What’s it got to do with anything?’— there had been many types there, a mixture of labour party members; unionists; people in the Radical Club and the Eureka Youth League; those not particularly attached to anyone. He remembers again the brick shattered on the ground. It hadn’t hit anyone, but was an incitement to violence. This man is dangerous. Murray is filled again with nervous energy, which leaves him both dull-witted and super-charged, as though he is a wind-up toy twisted tight and then released, unable to do anything but move in the direction he’s facing. He crosses the road about five metres behind the man, sticks to the outer edge of the pavement, head down. If he moves his eyes upwards, while still keeping his neck lowered, he can see the shoes of the man, his white socks flashing with each step. The man turns the corner into Brunswick Street. He stops at a car parked in front of the old Masonic Temple. Murray walks past fast, unsure of what to do next. The Temple’s entry is set back in the building, four steps leading up to a red door. Murray ducks inside the alcove, looks up to see the man sitting in the driver’s seat pulling out the pages of Crocodile Hunt and feeding them through the half wound-down window where they land, fanned out, on the road. When he’s finished dismembering the book, the man spreads the page-less cover across the back of the car. The crocodile, snout on the side, one eye turned outwards, stares out into the street. The man flicks the ignition and drives, the pages flying out and onto the road in his wake. Murray sits down on the steps of the guild and smokes. He isn’t exactly sure what just happened. The man must have bought the book just because he liked the picture on the front of the cover. But it’s odd though that he had bothered to spend so much just for one picture. Murray remembers how he had paced the shop and studiously examined the ceiling. He’d given the impression of someone picking out furniture for the room, working out the dimensions so some chair or table would fit. A cough. Murray looks up. The man’s standing above him, his forearm resting on the wall, elbow bent. His other arm hangs at his side, hand bunched up around a bundle of keys. ‘I wouldn’t of bothered following me, if I was you,’ the man says. ‘The police are on my side. Special branch are on my side.’ He pushes himself off the wall, stands up straight, and says, ‘Heil Hitler.’ Tuesday April 19, 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray brings his curled fist down on the door. It opens with the force of his knock and he feels like an idiot for even bothering. The hallway’s dark. Murray runs into a filing cabinet, swears, and stands in the centre of the corridor, with his hand still on the cabinet, calling, ‘Roger! Roger!’ Murray told Roger he’d come here when he called him. Murray was walking back from uni, and on the other side of the road to his house, ready to cross, he saw there was someone standing underneath the house, looking out into the street. Murray didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. He knew it was the man from the bookshop, the Nazi. Murray kept walking until he reached the end of the street, turned the corner and then ran. Back on campus, he shut himself in a phone box and dialed Roger’s number. ‘I can’t get to my house,’ Murray said when Roger picked up. ‘Lock yourself out, did you?’ said Roger. ‘You know that Nazi? He’s back again.’ ‘I don’t get it,’ said Roger. ‘It doesn’t matter. I need to stay with you,’ said Murray. ‘You can’t. I’m going to a party meeting.’ ‘I’ll meet you there.’ ‘Ok. If you want.’ Roger hung up. Now, Roger stands framed in the doorway of the meeting room. ‘Hey Murray, shut up. I can hear you. Get in here.’ Roger switches on the hallway light and Murray walks into the meeting room. There are about seven people, sitting on hard metal chairs around a long table. Murray sits next to Roger, nods to Patsy, who has nice breasts but is married. Vince says, ‘Hi, Murray, we’re talking about the moratorium on Friday.’ ‘You should bring your pretty little Vietnamese girl,’ says Billy. ‘She’s not around anymore,’ says Roger. ‘That’s a shame,’ says Patsy. ‘Yeah,’ says Murray. ‘Helen Dashwood told me her school has banned them from wearing moratorium badges,’ says Billy. ‘Far out,’ says Patsy. ‘We should get her to speak at the rally,’ says Stella, taking notes, and then, looking up, says, ‘Can anyone smell burning?’ Murray sniffs, says ‘I’ll go look.’ They all follow him down the hall. Patsy says, behind him, ‘Is it coming from the kitchen?’ Roger says, ‘No,’ and then the windows around them shatter. Next to Murray, a filing cabinet buckles and twists like wet cardboard in the rain. A door is blown off its hinges. Murray feels a moment of great confusion, a sense that things are sliding away from him spectacularly. He’s felt this once before. He wanted Lan to sit down with him, but she said she didn’t want to be touched. He’d pulled her to him, playfully, a joke, but he was too hard and she went limp in his hands. Like she’d been expecting it. Her head hit the table in front of him with a sharp, quick crack. He didn’t understand what happened; he had never experienced violence this close. He imagined her brain as a line drawing with the different sections coloured in, like his Psych friend had once showed him, except squashed in at the bottom. She had recovered, of course, opened her eyes a second later to him gasping. He remembered saying, ‘I just want to hold you. Why do you always do this to me?’ and even to him it hadn’t made sense because he was the one doing it to her. Afterwards, Murray had felt hungry, but couldn’t think of anything that he’d wanted to eat. He sliced an apple in half, traced the star of seeds with his finger, then decided he didn’t want it. He left it, already turning brown, on the kitchen bench. Author’s Note No one was killed in the April 19 explosion, nor did the roof fall in. The bookstore, kitchen and press on the first floor of 291 took the force of the blast (Evans and Ferrier). The same night, a man called The Courier Mail (1) saying he was a member of a right wing group and had just bombed the Brisbane Communist Party Headquarters. He threatened to bomb more on Friday if members attended the anti-Vietnam war moratorium that day. He ended his conversation with ‘Heil Hitler.’ Gary Mangan, a known Nazi party member, later confessed to the bombing. He was taken to court, but the Judge ruled that the body of evidence was inadmissible, citing a legal technicality. Mangan was not charged.Ian Curr, in his article, Radical Books in Brisbane, publishes an image of the Communist party quarters in Brisbane. The image, entitled ‘After the Bomb, April 19 1972,’ shows detectives interviewing those who were in the building at the time. One man, with his back to the camera, is unidentified. I imagined this unknown man, in thongs with the long hair, to be Murray. It is in these gaps in historical knowledge that the writer of fiction is free to imagine. References “Bomb in the Valley, Then City Shots.” The Courier Mail 20 Apr. 1972: 1. Curr, Ian. Radical Books in Brisbane. 2008. 24 Jun. 2011 < http://workersbushtelegraph.com.au/2008/07/18/radical-books-in-brisbane/ >. Evans, Raymond, and Carole Ferrier. Radical Brisbane: An Unruly History. Brisbane: Vulgar Press, 2004.

Introduction Explorations of the multimedia game format within cultural studies have been broadly approached from two perspectives: one -- the impact of technologies on user interaction particularly with regard to social implications, and the other -- human computer interactions within the framework of cybercultures. Another approach to understanding or speaking about games within cultural studies is to focus on the game experience as cultural practice -- as an activity or an event. In this article I wish to initiate an exploration of the aesthetics of player space as a distinctive element of the gameplay experience. In doing so I propose that an understanding of aesthetic spatial issues as an element of player interactivity and engagement is important for understanding the cultural practice of adventure gameplay. In approaching these questions, I am focussing on the single-player exploration adventure game in particular Myst and The Crystal Key. In describing these games as adventures I am drawing on Chris Crawford's The Art of Computer Game Design, which although a little dated, focusses on game design as a distinct activity. He brings together a theoretical approach with extensive experience as a game designer himself (Excalibur, Legionnaire, Gossip). Whilst at Atari he also worked with Brenda Laurel, a key theorist in the area of computer design and dramatic structure. Adventure games such as Myst and The Crystal Key might form a sub-genre in Chris Crawford's taxonomy of computer game design. Although they use the main conventions of the adventure game -- essentially a puzzle to be solved with characters within a story context -- the main focus and source of pleasure for the player is exploration, particularly the exploration of worlds or cosmologies. The main gameplay of both games is to travel through worlds solving clues, picking up objects, and interacting with other characters. In Myst the player has to solve the riddle of the world they have entered -- as the CD-ROM insert states "Now you're here, wherever here is, with no option but to explore." The goal, as the player must work out, is to release the father Atrus from prison by bringing magic pages of a book to different locations in the worlds. Hints are offered by broken-up, disrupted video clips shown throughout the game. In The Crystal Key, the player as test pilot has to save a civilisation by finding clues, picking up objects, mending ships and defeating an opponent. The questions foregrounded by a focus on the aesthetics of navigation are: What types of representational context are being set up? What choices have designers made about representational context? How are the players positioned within these spaces? What are the implications for the player's sense of orientation and navigation? Architectural Fabrication For the ancient Greeks, painting was divided into two categories: magalography (the painting of great things) and rhyparography (the painting of small things). Magalography covered mythological and historical scenes, which emphasised architectural settings, the human figure and grand landscapes. Rhyparography referred to still lifes and objects. In adventure games, particularly those that attempt to construct a cosmology such as Myst and The Crystal Key, magalography and rhyparography collide in a mix of architectural monumentality and obsessive detailing of objects. For the ancient Greeks, painting was divided into two categories: magalography (the painting of great things) and rhyparography (the painting of small things). Magalography covered mythological and historical scenes, which emphasised architectural settings, the human figure and grand landscapes. Rhyparography referred to still lifes and objects. In adventure games, particularly those that attempt to construct a cosmology such as Myst and The Crystal Key, magalography and rhyparography collide in a mix of architectural monumentality and obsessive detailing of objects. The creation of a digital architecture in adventure games mimics the Pompeii wall paintings with their interplay of extruded and painted features. In visualising the space of a cosmology, the environment starts to be coded like the urban or built environment with underlying geometry and textured surface or dressing. In The Making of Myst (packaged with the CD-ROM) Chuck Carter, the artist on Myst, outlines the process of creating Myst Island through painting the terrain in grey scale then extruding the features and adding textural render -- a methodology that lends itself to a hybrid of architectural and painted geometry. Examples of external architecture and of internal room design can be viewed online. In the spatial organisation of the murals of Pompeii and later Rome, orthogonals converged towards several vertical axes showing multiple points of view simultaneously. During the high Renaissance, notions of perspective developed into a more formal system known as the construzione legittima or legitimate construction. This assumed a singular position of the on-looker standing in the same place as that occupied by the artist when the painting was constructed. In Myst there is an exaggeration of the underlying structuring technique of the construzione legittima with its emphasis on geometry and mathematics. The player looks down at a slight angle onto the screen from a fixed vantage point and is signified as being within the cosmological expanse, either in off-screen space or as the cursor. Within the cosmology, the island as built environment appears as though viewed through an enlarging lens, creating the precision and coldness of a Piero della Francesca painting. Myst mixes flat and three-dimensional forms of imagery on the same screen -- the flat, sketchy portrayal of the trees of Myst Island exists side-by-side with the monumental architectural buildings and landscape design structures created in Macromodel. This image shows the flat, almost expressionistic trees of Myst Island juxtaposed with a fountain rendered in high detail. This recalls the work of Giotto in the Arena chapel. In Joachim's Dream, objects and buildings have depth, but trees, plants and sky -- the space in-between objects -- is flat. Myst Island conjures up the realm of a magic, realist space with obsolete artefacts, classic architectural styles (the Albert Hall as the domed launch pad, the British Museum as the library, the vernacular cottage in the wood), mechanical wonders, miniature ships, fountains, wells, macabre torture instruments, ziggurat-like towers, symbols and odd numerological codes. Adam Mates describes it as "that beautiful piece of brain-deadening sticky-sweet eye-candy" but more than mere eye-candy or graphic verisimilitude, it is the mix of cultural ingredients and signs that makes Myst an intriguing place to play. The buildings in The Crystal Key, an exploratory adventure game in a similar genre to Myst, celebrate the machine aesthetic and modernism with Buckminster Fuller style geodesic structures, the bombe shape, exposed ducting, glass and steel, interiors with movable room partitions and abstract expressionist decorations. An image of one of these modernist structures is available online. The Crystal Key uses QuickTime VR panoramas to construct the exterior and interior spaces. Different from the sharp detail of Myst's structures, the focus changes from sharp in wide shot to soft focus in close up, with hot-spot objects rendered in trompe l'oeil detail. The Tactility of Objects "The aim of trompe l'oeil -- using the term in its widest sense and applying it to both painting and objects -- is primarily to puzzle and to mystify" (Battersby 19). In the 15th century, Brunelleschi invented a screen with central apparatus in order to obtain exact perspective -- the monocular vision of the camera obscura. During the 17th century, there was a renewed interest in optics by the Dutch artists of the Rembrandt school (inspired by instruments developed for Dutch seafaring ventures), in particular Vermeer, Hoogstraten, de Hooch and Dou. Gerard Dou's painting of a woman chopping onions shows this. These artists were experimenting with interior perspective and trompe l'oeil in order to depict the minutia of the middle-class, domestic interior. Within these luminous interiors, with their receding tiles and domestic furniture, is an elevation of the significance of rhyparography. In the Girl Chopping Onions of 1646 by Gerard Dou the small things are emphasised -- the group of onions, candlestick holder, dead fowl, metal pitcher, and bird cage. Trompe l'oeil as an illusionist strategy is taken up in the worlds of Myst, The Crystal Key and others in the adventure game genre. Traditionally, the fascination of trompe l'oeil rests upon the tension between the actual painting and the scam; the physical structures and the faux painted structures call for the viewer to step closer to wave at a fly or test if the glass had actually broken in the frame. Mirian Milman describes trompe l'oeil painting in the following manner: "the repertory of trompe-l'oeil painting is made up of obsessive elements, it represents a reality immobilised by nails, held in the grip of death, corroded by time, glimpsed through half-open doors or curtains, containing messages that are sometimes unreadable, allusions that are often misunderstood, and a disorder of seemingly familiar and yet remote objects" (105). Her description could be a scene from Myst with in its suggestion of theatricality, rich texture and illusionistic play of riddle or puzzle. In the trompe l'oeil painterly device known as cartellino, niches and recesses in the wall are represented with projecting elements and mock bas-relief. This architectural trickery is simulated in the digital imaging of extruded and painting elements to give depth to an interior or an object. Other techniques common to trompe l'oeil -- doors, shadowy depths and staircases, half opened cupboard, and paintings often with drapes and curtains to suggest a layering of planes -- are used throughout Myst as transition points. In the trompe l'oeil paintings, these transition points were often framed with curtains or drapes that appeared to be from the spectator space -- creating a painting of a painting effect. Myst is rich in this suggestion of worlds within worlds through the framing gesture afforded by windows, doors, picture frames, bookcases and fireplaces. Views from a window -- a distant landscape or a domestic view, a common device for trompe l'oeil -- are used in Myst to represent passageways and transitions onto different levels. Vertical space is critical for extending navigation beyond the horizontal through the terraced landscape -- the tower, antechamber, dungeon, cellars and lifts of the fictional world. Screen shots show the use of the curve, light diffusion and terracing to invite the player. In The Crystal Key vertical space is limited to the extent of the QTVR tilt making navigation more of a horizontal experience. Out-Stilling the Still Dutch and Flemish miniatures of the 17th century give the impression of being viewed from above and through a focussing lens. As Mastai notes: "trompe l'oeil, therefore is not merely a certain kind of still life painting, it should in fact 'out-still' the stillest of still lifes" (156). The intricate detailing of objects rendered in higher resolution than the background elements creates a type of hyper-reality that is used in Myst to emphasise the physicality and actuality of objects. This ultimately enlarges the sense of space between objects and codes them as elements of significance within the gameplay. The obsessive, almost fetishistic, detailed displays of material artefacts recall the curiosity cabinets of Fabritius and Hoogstraten. The mechanical world of Myst replicates the Dutch 17th century fascination with the optical devices of the telescope, the convex mirror and the prism, by coding them as key signifiers/icons in the frame. In his peepshow of 1660, Hoogstraten plays with an enigma and optical illusion of a Dutch domestic interior seen as though through the wrong end of a telescope. Using the anamorphic effect, the image only makes sense from one vantage point -- an effect which has a contemporary counterpart in the digital morphing widely used in adventure games. The use of crumbled or folded paper standing out from the plane surface of the canvas was a recurring motif of the Vanitas trompe l'oeil paintings. The highly detailed representation and organisation of objects in the Vanitas pictures contained the narrative or symbology of a religious or moral tale. (As in this example by Hoogstraten.) In the cosmology of Myst and The Crystal Key, paper contains the narrative of the back-story lovingly represented in scrolls, books and curled paper messages. The entry into Myst is through the pages of an open book, and throughout the game, books occupy a privileged position as holders of stories and secrets that are used to unlock the puzzles of the game. Myst can be read as a Dantesque, labyrinthine journey with its rich tapestry of images, its multi-level historical associations and battle of good and evil. Indeed the developers, brothers Robyn and Rand Miller, had a fertile background to draw on, from a childhood spent travelling to Bible churches with their nondenominational preacher father. The Diorama as System Event The diorama (story in the round) or mechanical exhibit invented by Daguerre in the 19th century created a mini-cosmology with player anticipation, action and narrative. It functioned as a mini-theatre (with the spectator forming the fourth wall), offering a peek into mini-episodes from foreign worlds of experience. The Musée Mechanique in San Francisco has dioramas of the Chinese opium den, party on the captain's boat, French execution scenes and ghostly graveyard episodes amongst its many offerings, including a still showing an upper class dancing party called A Message from the Sea. These function in tandem with other forbidden pleasures of the late 19th century -- public displays of the dead, waxwork museums and kinetescope flip cards with their voyeuristic "What the Butler Saw", and "What the Maid Did on Her Day Off" tropes. Myst, along with The 7th Guest, Doom and Tomb Raider show a similar taste for verisimilitude and the macabre. However, the pre-rendered scenes of Myst and The Crystal Key allow for more diorama like elaborate and embellished details compared to the emphasis on speed in the real-time-rendered graphics of the shoot-'em-ups. In the gameplay of adventure games, animated moments function as rewards or responsive system events: allowing the player to navigate through the seemingly solid wall; enabling curtains to be swung back, passageways to appear, doors to open, bookcases to disappear. These short sequences resemble the techniques used in mechanical dioramas where a coin placed in the slot enables a curtain or doorway to open revealing a miniature narrative or tableau -- the closure of the narrative resulting in the doorway shutting or the curtain being pulled over again. These repeating cycles of contemplation-action-closure offer the player one of the rewards of the puzzle solution. The sense of verisimilitude and immersion in these scenes is underscored by the addition of sound effects (doors slamming, lifts creaking, room atmosphere) and music. Geographic Locomotion Static imagery is the standard backdrop of the navigable space of the cosmology game landscape. Myst used a virtual camera around a virtual set to create a sequence of still camera shots for each point of view. The use of the still image lends itself to a sense of the tableauesque -- the moment frozen in time. These tableauesque moments tend towards the clean and anaesthetic, lacking any evidence of the player's visceral presence or of other human habitation. The player's navigation from one tableau screen to the next takes the form of a 'cyber-leap' or visual jump cut. These jumps -- forward, backwards, up, down, west, east -- follow on from the geographic orientation of the early text-based adventure games. In their graphic form, they reveal a new framing angle or point of view on the scene whilst ignoring the rules of classical continuity editing. Games such as The Crystal Key show the player's movement through space (from one QTVR node to another) by employing a disorientating fast zoom, as though from the perspective of a supercharged wheelchair. Rather than reconciling the player to the state of movement, this technique tends to draw attention to the technologies of the programming apparatus. The Crystal Key sets up a meticulous screen language similar to filmic dramatic conventions then breaks its own conventions by allowing the player to jump out of the crashed spaceship through the still intact window. The landscape in adventure games is always partial, cropped and fragmented. The player has to try and map the geographical relationship of the environment in order to understand where they are and how to proceed (or go back). Examples include selecting the number of marker switches on the island to receive Atrus's message and the orientation of Myst's tower in the library map to obtain key clues. A screenshot shows the arrival point in Myst from the dock. In comprehending the landscape, which has no centre, the player has to create a mental map of the environment by sorting significant connecting elements into chunks of spatial elements similar to a Guy Debord Situationist map. Playing the Flaneur The player in Myst can afford to saunter through the landscape, meandering at a more leisurely pace that would be possible in a competitive shoot-'em-up, behaving as a type of flaneur. The image of the flaneur as described by Baudelaire motions towards fin de siècle decadence, the image of the socially marginal, the dispossessed aristocrat wandering the urban landscape ready for adventure and unusual exploits. This develops into the idea of the artist as observer meandering through city spaces and using the power of memory in evoking what is observed for translation into paintings, writing or poetry. In Myst, the player as flaneur, rather than creating paintings or writing, is scanning the landscape for clues, witnessing objects, possible hints and pick-ups. The numbers in the keypad in the antechamber, the notes from Atrus, the handles on the island marker, the tower in the forest and the miniature ship in the fountain all form part of a mnemomic trompe l'oeil. A screenshot shows the path to the library with one of the island markers and the note from Atrus. In the world of Myst, the player has no avatar presence and wanders around a seemingly unpeopled landscape -- strolling as a tourist venturing into the unknown -- creating and storing a mental map of objects and places. In places these become items for collection -- cultural icons with an emphasised materiality. In The Crystal Key iconography they appear at the bottom of the screen pulsing with relevance when active. A screenshot shows a view to a distant forest with the "pick-ups" at the bottom of the screen. This process of accumulation and synthesis suggests a Surrealist version of Joseph Cornell's strolls around Manhattan -- collecting, shifting and organising objects into significance. In his 1982 taxonomy of game design, Chris Crawford argues that without competition these worlds are not really games at all. That was before the existence of the Myst adventure sub-genre where the pleasures of the flaneur are a particular aspect of the gameplay pleasures outside of the rules of win/loose, combat and dominance. By turning the landscape itself into a pathway of significance signs and symbols, Myst, The Crystal Key and other games in the sub-genre offer different types of pleasures from combat or sport -- the pleasures of the stroll -- the player as observer and cultural explorer. References Battersby, M. Trompe L'Oeil: The Eye Deceived. New York: St. Martin's, 1974. Crawford, C. The Art of Computer Game Design. Original publication 1982, book out of print. 15 Oct. 2000 <http://members.nbci.com/kalid/art/art.php>. Darley Andrew. Visual Digital Culture: Surface Play and Spectacle in New Media Genres. London: Routledge, 2000. Lunenfeld, P. Digital Dialectic: New Essays on New Media. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT P 1999. Mates, A. Effective Illusory Worlds: A Comparative Analysis of Interfaces in Contemporary Interactive Fiction. 1998. 15 Oct. 2000 <http://www.wwa.com/~mathes/stuff/writings>. Mastai, M. L. d'Orange. Illusion in Art, Trompe L'Oeil: A History of Pictorial Illusion. New York: Abaris, 1975. Miller, Robyn and Rand. "The Making of Myst." Myst. Cyan and Broderbund, 1993. Milman, M. Trompe-L'Oeil: The Illusion of Reality. New York: Skira Rizzoli, 1982. Murray, J. Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1997. Wertheim, M. The Pearly Gates of Cyberspace: A History of Cyberspace from Dante to the Internet. Sydney: Doubleday, 1999. Game References 7th Guest. Trilobyte, Inc., distributed by Virgin Games, 1993. Doom. Id Software, 1992. Excalibur. Chris Crawford, 1982. Myst. Cyan and Broderbund, 1993. Tomb Raider. Core Design and Eidos Interactive, 1996. The Crystal Key. Dreamcatcher Interactive, 1999. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Bernadette Flynn. "Towards an Aesthetics of Navigation -- Spatial Organisation in the Cosmology of the Adventure Game." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.5 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0010/navigation.php>. Chicago style: Bernadette Flynn, "Towards an Aesthetics of Navigation -- Spatial Organisation in the Cosmology of the Adventure Game," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 5 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0010/navigation.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Bernadette Flynn. (2000) Towards an aesthetics of navigation -- spatial organisation in the cosmology of the adventure game. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(5). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0010/navigation.php> ([your date of access]).

IntroductionFor over five years, Romanians have been using their bodies in public spaces to challenge politicians’ disregard for the average citizen. In a region low in standards of civic engagement, such as voter turnout and petition signing, Romanian people’s “citizenship of the streets” has stopped environmentally destructive mining in 2013, ousted a corrupt cabinet in 2015, and blocked legislation legalising abuse of public office in 2017 (Solnit 214). This article explores the democratic affordances of collective resistive walking, by focusing on Romania’s capital, Bucharest. I illustrate how walking in protest of political corruption cultivates a democratic public and reconfigures city spaces as spaces of democratic engagement, in the context of increased illiberalism in the region. I examine two sites of protest: the Parliament Palace and Victoriei Square. The former is a construction emblematic of communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu and symbol of an authoritarian regime, whose surrounding area protestors reclaim as a civic space. The latter—a central part of the city bustling with the life of cafes, museums, bike lanes, and nearby parks—hosts the Government and has become an iconic site for pro-democratic movements. Spaces of Democracy: The Performativity of Public Assemblies Democracies are active achievements, dependent not only on the solidity of institutions —e.g., a free press and a constitution—but on people’s ability and desire to communicate about issues of concern and to occupy public space. Communicative approaches to democratic theory, formulated as inquiries into the public sphere and the plurality and evolution of publics, often return to establish the significance of public spaces and of bodies in the maintenance of our “rhetorical democracies” (Hauser). Speech and assembly, voice and space are sides of the same coin. In John Dewey’s work, communication is the main “loyalty” of democracy: the heart and final guarantee of democracy is in free gatherings of neighbors on the street corner to discuss back and forth what is read in the uncensored news of the day, and in gatherings of friends in the living rooms of houses and apartments to converse freely with one another. (Dewey qtd. in Asen 197, emphasis added) Dewey asserts the centrality of communication in the same breath that he affirms the spatial infrastructure supporting it.Historically, Richard Sennett explains, Athenian democracy has been organised around two “spaces of democracy” where people assembled: the agora or town square and the theatre or Pnyx. While the theatre has endured as the symbol of democratic communication, with its ideal of concentrated attention on the argument of one speaker, Sennett illuminates the square as an equally important space, one without which deliberation in the Pnyx would be impossible. In the agora, citizens cultivate an ability to see, expect, and think through difference. In its open architecture and inclusiveness, Sennett explains, the agora affords the walker and dweller a public space to experience, in a quick, fragmentary, and embodied way, the differences and divergences in fellow citizens. Through visual scrutiny and embodied exposure, the square thus cultivates “an outlook favorable to discussion of differing views and conflicting interests”, useful for deliberation in the Pnyx, and the capacity to recognise strangers as part of the imagined democratic community (19). Also stressing the importance of spaces for assembly, Jürgen Habermas’s historical theorisation of the bourgeois public sphere moves the functions of the agora to the modern “third places” (Oldenburg) of the civic society emerging in late seventeenth and eighteenth-century Europe: coffee houses, salons, and clubs. While Habermas’ conceptualization of a unified bourgeois public has been criticised for its class and gender exclusivism, and for its normative model of deliberation and consensus, such criticism has also opened paths of inquiry into the rhetorical pluralism of publics and into the democratic affordances of embodied performativity. Thus, unlike Habermas’s assumption of a single bourgeois public, work on twentieth and twenty-first century publics has attended to their wide variety in post-modern societies (e.g., Bruce; Butler; Delicath and DeLuca; Fraser; Harold and DeLuca; Hauser; Lewis; Mckinnon et al.; Pezzullo; Rai; Tabako). In contrast to the Habermasian close attention to verbal argumentation, such criticism prioritizes the embodied (performative, aesthetic, and material) ways in which publics manifest their attention to common issues. From suffragists to environmentalists and, most recently, anti-precarity movements across the globe, publics assemble and move through shared space, seeking to break hegemonies of media representation by creating media events of their own. In the process, Judith Butler explains, such embodied assemblies accomplish much more. They disrupt prevalent logics and dominant feelings of disposability, precarity, and anxiety, at the same time that they (re)constitute subjects and increasingly privatised spaces into citizens and public places of democracy, respectively. Butler proposes that to best understand recent protests we need to read collective assembly in the current political moment of “accelerating precarity” and responsibilisation (10). Globally, increasingly larger populations are exposed to economic insecurity and precarity through government withdrawal from labor protections and the diminishment of social services, to the profit of increasingly monopolistic business. A logic of self-investment and personal responsibility accompanies such structural changes, as people understand themselves as individual market actors in competition with other market actors rather than as citizens and community members (Brown). In this context, public assembly would enact an alternative, insisting on interdependency. Bodies, in such assemblies, signify both symbolically (their will to speak against power) and indexically. As Butler describes, “it is this body, and these bodies, that require employment, shelter, health care, and food, as well as a sense of a future that is not the future of unpayable debt” (10). Butler describes the function of these protests more fully:[P]lural enactments […] make manifest the understanding that a situation is shared, contesting the individualizing morality that makes a moral norm of economic self-sufficiency precisely […] when self-sufficiency is becoming increasingly unrealizable. Showing up, standing, breathing, moving, standing still, speech, and silence are all aspects of a sudden assembly, an unforeseen form of political performativity that puts livable life at the forefront of politics […] [T]he bodies assembled ‘say’ we are not disposable, even if they stand silently. (18)Though Romania is not included in her account of contemporary protest movements, Butler’s theoretical account aptly describes both the structural and ideological conditions, and the performativity of Romanian protestors. In Romania, citizens have started to assemble in the streets against austerity measures (2012), environmental destruction (2013), fatal infrastructures (2015) and against the government’s corruption and attempts to undermine the Judiciary (from February 2017 onward). While, as scholars have argued (Olteanu and Beyerle; Gubernat and Rammelt), political corruption has gradually crystallised into the dominant and enduring framework for the assembled publics, post-communist corruption has been part and parcel of the neoliberalisation of Central and Eastern-European societies after the fall of communism. In the region, Leslie Holmes explains, former communist elites or the nomenklatura, have remained the majority political class after 1989. With political power and under the shelter of political immunity, nomenklatura politicians “were able to take ethically questionable advantage in various ways […] of the sell-off of previously state-owned enterprises” (Holmes 12). The process through which the established political class became owners of a previously state-owned economy is known as “nomenklatura privatization”, a common form of political corruption in the region, Holmes explains (12). Such practices were common knowledge among a cynical population through most of the 1990s and the 2000s. They were not broadly challenged in an ideological milieu attached, as Mihaela Miroiu, Isabela Preoteasa, and Jerzy Szacki argued, to extreme forms of liberalism and neoliberalism, ideologies perceived by people just coming out of communism as anti-ideology. Almost three decades since the fall of communism, in the face of unyielding levels of poverty (Zaharia; Marin), the decaying state of healthcare and education (Bilefsky; “Education”), and migration rates second only to war-torn Syria (Deletant), Romanian protestors have come to attribute the diminution of life in post-communism to the political corruption of the established political class (“Romania Corruption Report”; “Corruption Perceptions”). Following systematic attempts by the nomenklatura-heavy governing coalition to undermine the judiciary and institutionalise de facto corruption of public officials (Deletant), protestors have been returning to public spaces on a weekly basis, de-normalising the political cynicism and isolation serving the established political class. Mothers Walking: Resignifying Communist Spaces, Imagining the New DemosOn 11 July 2018, a protest of mothers was streamed live by Corruption Kills (Corupția ucide), a Facebook group started by activist Florin Bădiță after a deadly nightclub fire attributed to the corruption of public servants, in 2015 (Commander). Organized protests at the time pressured the Social-Democratic cabinet into resignation. Corruption Kills has remained a key activist platform, organising assemblies, streaming live from demonstrations, and sharing personal acts of dissent, thus extending the life of embodied assemblies. In the mothers’ protest video, women carrying babies in body-wraps and strollers walk across the intersection leading to the Parliament Palace, while police direct traffic and ensure their safety (“Civil Disobedience”). This was an unusual scene for many reasons. Walkers met at the entrance to the Parliament Palace, an area most emblematic of the former regime. Built by Communist dictator, Nicolae Ceaușescu and inspired by Kim Il-sung’s North Korean architecture, the current Parliament building and its surrounding plaza remain, in the words of Renata Salecl, “one of the most traumatic remnants of the communist regime” (90). The construction is the second largest administrative building in the world, after the Pentagon, a size matching the ambitions of the dictator. It bears witness to the personal and cultural sacrifices the construction and its surrounded plaza required: the displacement of some 40,000 people from old neighbourhood Uranus, the death of reportedly thousands of workers, and the flattening of churches, monasteries, hospitals, schools (Parliament Palace). This arbitrary construction carved out of the old city remains a symbol of an authoritarian relation with the nation. As Salecl puts it, Ceaușescu’s project tried to realise the utopia of a new communist “centre” and created an artificial space as removed from the rest of the city as the leader himself was from the needs of his people. Twenty-nine years after the fall of communism, the plaza of the Parliament Palace remains as suspended from the life of the city as it was during the 1980s. The trees lining the boulevard have grown slightly and bike lanes are painted over decaying stones. Still, only few people walk by the neo-classical apartment buildings now discoloured and stained by weather and time. Salecl remarks on the panoptic experience of the Parliament Palace: “observed from the avenue, [the palace] appears to have no entrance; there are only numerous windows, which give the impression of an omnipresent gaze” (95). The building embodies, for Salecl, the logic of surveillance of the communist regime, which “created the impression of omnipresence” through a secret police that rallied members among regular citizens and inspired fear by striking randomly (95).Against this geography steeped in collective memories of fear and exposure to the gaze of the state, women turn their children’s bodies and their own into performances of resistance that draw on the rhetorical force of communist gender politics. Both motherhood and childhood were heavily regulated roles under Ceaușescu’s nationalist-socialist politics of forced birth, despite the official idealisation of both. Producing children for the nationalist-communist state was women’s mandated expression of citizenship. Declaring the foetus “the socialist property of the whole society”, in 1966 Ceaușescu criminalised abortion for women of reproductive ages who had fewer than four children, and, starting 1985, less than five children (Ceaușescu qtd. in Verdery). What followed was “a national tragedy”: illegal abortions became the leading cause of death for fertile women, children were abandoned into inhumane conditions in the infamous orphanages, and mothers experienced the everyday drama of caring for families in an economy of shortages (Kligman 364). The communist politicisation of natality during communist Romania exemplifies one of the worst manifestations of the political as biopolitical. The current maternal bodies and children’s bodies circulating in the communist-iconic plaza articulate past and present for Romanians, redeploying a traumatic collective memory to challenge increasingly authoritarian ambitions of the governing Social Democratic Party. The images of caring mothers walking in protest with their babies furthers the claims that anti-corruption publics have made in other venues: that the government, in their indifference and corruption, is driving millions of people, usually young, out of the country, in a braindrain of unprecedented proportions (Ursu; Deletant; #vavedemdinSibiu). In their determination to walk during the gruelling temperatures of mid-July, in their youth and their babies’ youth, the mothers’ walk performs the contrast between their generation of engaged, persistent, and caring citizens and the docile abused subject of a past indexed by the Ceaușescu-era architecture. In addition to performing a new caring imagined community (Anderson), women’s silent, resolute walk on the crosswalk turns a lifeless geography, heavy with the architectural traces of authoritarian history, into a public space that holds democratic protest. By inhabiting the cultural role of mothers, protestors disarmed state authorities: instead of the militarised gendarmerie usually policing protestors the Victoriei Square, only traffic police were called for the mothers’ protest. The police choreographed cars and people, as protestors walked across the intersection leading to the Parliament. Drivers, usually aggressive and insouciant, now moved in concert with the protestors. The mothers’ walk, immediately modeled by people in other cities (Cluj-Napoca), reconfigured a car-dominated geography and an unreliable, driver-friendly police, into a civic space that is struggling to facilitate the citizens’ peaceful disobedience. The walkers’ assembly thus begins to constitute the civic character of the plaza, collecting “the space itself […] the pavement and […] the architecture [to produce] the public character of that material environment” (Butler 71). It demonstrates the possibility of a new imagined community of caring and persistent citizens, one significantly different from the cynical, disconnected, and survivalist subjects that the nomenklatura politicians, nested in the Panoptic Parliament nearby, would prefer.Persisting in the Victoriei Square In addition to strenuous physical walking to reclaim city spaces, such as the mothers’ walking, the anti-corruption public also practices walking and gathering in less taxing environments. The Victoriei Square is such a place, a central plaza that connects major boulevards with large sidewalks, functional bike lanes, and old trees. The square is the architectural meeting point of old and new, where communist apartments meet late nineteenth and early twentieth century architecture, in a privileged neighbourhood of villas, museums, and foreign consulates. One of these 1930s constructions is the Government building, hosting the Prime Minister’s cabinet. Demonstrators gathered here during the major protests of 2015 and 2017, and have walked, stood, and wandered in the square almost weekly since (“Past Events”). On 24 June 2018, I arrive in the Victoriei Square to participate in the protest announced on social media by Corruption Kills. There is room to move, to pause, and rest. In some pockets, people assemble to pay attention to impromptu speakers who come onto a small platform to share their ideas. Occasionally someone starts chanting “We See You!” and “Down with Corruption!” and almost everyone joins the chant. A few young people circulate petitions. But there is little exultation in the group as a whole, shared mostly among those taking up the stage or waving flags. Throughout the square, groups of familiars stop to chat. Couples and families walk their bikes, strolling slowly through the crowds, seemingly heading to or coming from the nearby park on a summer evening. Small kids play together, drawing with chalk on the pavement, or greeting dogs while parents greet each other. Older children race one another, picking up on the sense of freedom and de-centred but still purposeful engagement. The openness of the space allows one to meander and observe all these groups, performing the function of the Ancient agora: making visible the strangers who are part of the polis. The overwhelming feeling is one of solidarity. This comes partly from the possibilities of collective agency and the feeling of comfortably taking up space and having your embodiment respected, otherwise hard to come by in other spaces of the city. Everyday walking in the streets of Romanian cities is usually an exercise in hypervigilant physical prowess and self-preserving numbness. You keep your eyes on the ground to not stumble on broken pavement. You watch ahead for unmarked construction work. You live with other people’s sweat on the hot buses. You hop among cars parked on sidewalks and listen keenly for when others may zoom by. In one of the last post-socialist states to join the European Union, living with generalised poverty means walking in cities where your senses must be dulled to manage the heat, the dust, the smells, and the waiting, irresponsive to beauty and to amiable sociality. The euphemistic vocabulary of neoliberalism may describe everyday walking through individualistic terms such as “grit” or “resilience.” And while people are called to effort, creativity, and endurance not needed in more functional states, what one experiences is the gradual diminution of one’s lives under a political regime where illiberalism keeps a citizen-serving democracy at bay. By contrast, the Victoriei Square holds bodies whose comfort in each other’s presence allow us to imagine a political community where survivalism, or what Lauren Berlant calls “lateral agency”, are no longer the norm. In “showing up, standing, breathing, moving, standing still […] an unforeseen form of political performativity that puts livable life at the forefront of politics” is enacted (Butler 18). In arriving to Victoriei Square repeatedly, Romanians demonstrate that there is room to breathe more easily, to engage with civility, and to trust the strangers in their country. They assert that they are not disposable, even if a neoliberal corrupt post-communist regime would have them otherwise.ConclusionBecoming a public, as Michael Warner proposes, is an ongoing process of attention to an issue, through the circulation of discourse and self-organisation with strangers. For the anti-corruption public of Romania’s past years, such ongoing work is accompanied by persistent, civil, embodied collective assembly, in an articulation of claims, bodies, and spaces that promotes a material agency that reconfigures the city and the imagined Romanian community into a more democratic one. The Romanian citizenship of the streets is particularly significant in the current geopolitical and ideological moment. In the region, increasing authoritarianism meets the alienating logics of neoliberalism, both trying to reduce citizens to disposable, self-reliant, and disconnected market actors. Populist autocrats—Recep Tayyip Erdogan in Turkey, the Peace and Justice Party in Poland, and recently E.U.-penalized Victor Orban, in Hungary—are dismantling the system of checks and balances, and posing threats to a European Union already challenged by refugee debates and Donald Trump’s unreliable alliance against authoritarianism. In such a moment, the Romanian anti-corruption public performs within the geographies of their city solidarity and commitment to democracy, demonstrating an alternative to the submissive and disconnected subjects preferred by authoritarianism and neoliberalism.Author's NoteIn addition to the anonymous reviewers, the author would like to thank Mary Tuominen and Jesse Schlotterbeck for their helpful comments on this essay.ReferencesAnderson, Benedict R. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso, 2016.Asen, Robert. “A Discourse Theory of Citizenship.” Quarterly Journal of Speech 90.2 (2004): 189-211. 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