Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Exploration et cartographie"

La production des formes en architecture est un acte dans lequel se construit le projet et se façonne l’espace. Elle est une action qui structure l’environnement humain. La conception architecturale est aussi une production spatiale de formes et exploration de potentialités de composition. Deux approches nous intéressent ici : formalisation du savoirfaire architectural et analyse des modes de composition en architecture. Il s’agit d’une part de comprendre la notion de composition, d’organisation et de configuration architecturale et d’autre part de décomposer, segmenter et caractériser morphologiquement un ensemble d’objets architecturaux (décors des fenêtres) en vue de mettre en évidence et d’expliquer les lois du système de formes qu’ils organisent. L’objectif est de développer des outils d’aide à la conception architecturale dans le cadre de la pédagogie du projet et de l’informatisation du savoir-faire architectural. La mise en place d’un environnement virtuel et d’un dispositif de matérialisation spatiale de formes apporte une aide opératoire dans la conception architecturale.

Objective: The objective of this study was to identify lymphaticvessels draining from the prostate by using a fluorescence navigation(FN) system.Methods: Fourteen subjects were candidates for radical retropubicprostatectomy (RRP) and pelvic lymph node dissection (PLND).After an indocyanine green solution was injected into the prostateduring RRP, lymphatic vessels draining from the prostate were analyzedusing a FN system. After PLND based on lymphatic mappingby the FN system (in vivo probing) was performed in the externaliliac, obturator and internal iliac regions; the fluorescence of theremoved lymph nodes (LNs) was analyzed on the bench (ex vivoprobing).Results: Under in vivo and ex vivo probing, the fluorescence intensityof internal iliac nodes was greater than that of external iliacor obturator nodes.Conclusion: The current study suggests that using a FN systemafter injecting indocyanine green is a safe and rational approachfor detecting the lymphatic channel draining from the prostate.The major lymphatic pathway involved in the spreading of prostatecancer appears to relate to internal iliac LNs, which wouldmean that the standard PLND covering external iliac and obturatorregions would not keep the cancer from spreading.Objectif : L’objectif de l’étude était de repérer les vaisseaux lymphatiquesquittant la prostate à l’aide d’un système d’imagerie parfluorescence (IF).Méthodologie : Quatorze sujets devaient subir une prostatectomieradicale rétropubienne (PRR) et une lymphadénectomie pelvienne.Après injection d’une solution de vert d’indocyanine dansla prostate pendant la PRR, les vaisseaux lymphatiques drainant laprostate ont été analysés par IF. Une lymphadénectomie pelviennefondée sur la cartographie lymphatique par IF (exploration in vivo)a ensuite été réalisée dans les régions de la fosse iliaque externe,de l’obturateur et de la fosse iliaque interne; la fluorescence desganglions lymphatiques retirés a été analysée sans délai (explorationex vivo).Résultats : Lors de l’exploration in vivo et ex vivo, l’intensité dela fluorescence des ganglions iliaques internes était plus forte quecelle des ganglions iliaques externes ou des ganglions obturateurs.Conclusion : Cette étude porte à croire que l’IF après injectionde vert d’indocyanine est une méthode sûre et rationnelle pourrepérer les vaisseaux lymphatiques drainant la prostate. La principalevoie lymphatique de propagation du cancer de la prostatesemble être reliée aux ganglions lymphatiques iliaques internes, cequi signifie que la lymphadénectomie pelvienne standard retirantles ganglions iliaques externes et obturateurs n’empêcherait pasle cancer de se propager.

Dans le cadre de l’agrandissement du port de Dunkerque, plus de 170 hectares de la plaine maritime ont été explorés sur la future « Zone Grande Industrie », dans l’ancien estuaire de la Denna (ou Déna, ou L’Enna), sous-bassin du petite fleuve côtier Aa. Le diagnostic d’archéologie préventive classique par ouverture de tranchées a été accompagnée de recherches en archives, de prospections géophysiques, de levés géomorphologiques en sondages en puits (profonds de 3 m) et en coupes. L’intégration des études de nature différente permet d’aboutir à une compréhension du secteur meilleure que ne l’eût fait chaque discipline séparément. Les dépôts sont essentiellement des sables tidaux recoupés par des chenaux de marée. Les décimètres supérieurs sont parfois plus limoneux. Les mesures de conductivité apparente permettent de spatialiser les données lithostratigraphiques ponctuelles. Leur confrontation, ainsi que des indices venant du réseau parcellaire, permet la mise en évidence d’un bord ouest de l’estuaire, contemporain d’occupations humaines. De même, la confrontation des vestiges archéologiques levés lors du diagnostic avec une zonation basée sur la géophysique et la stratigraphie permet d’appréhender l’évolution du paysage, notamment l’expansion et la contraction de l’habitat du secteur, depuis les premières interventions aux environs des Xe–XIIe siècles sur la bordure ouest de l’estuaire. Depuis ce dernier, l’habitat a progressé vers le nord-est, jusqu’à un bras de la Denna resté longtemps actif et dont l’axe correspond au système de drainage actuel. La cartographie de conductivité électrique permet également de mettre en évidence des anomalies qui se sont révélées être de larges et profondes structures anthropiques (jusqu’à environ 40 m de diamètre et plus de 5 m de profondeur, soit −2,5 m sous la cote zéro). Bien que nombreuses, ces structures peuvent passer facilement inaperçues lors des diagnostics archéologiques. Plusieurs ont été testées. Leur remplissage est variable mais présente comme point commun une étanchéification du fond et des parois par des mottes d’argile. Ces structures sont interprétées comme des mares endiguées dont quelques exemples subsistent sur la côte de la mer du Nord (en Frise, en Zélande et en Allemagne). Elles permettaient de recueillir l’eau douce et leur couronne de remblais en élévation s’élevaient au-dessus des plus fortes marées.

En 1569, le cartographe hollandais Gérard Mercator publiait une projection qui allait révolutionner la navigation maritime. Bien que l’importance de la projection de Mercator soit soulignée dans la documentation existante, la façon dont elle en est venue à jouer un rôle prépondérant dans la production de cartes du monde en cartographie thématique et en cartographie de référence n’a pas retenu l’attention. L’institutionnalisation de la projection de Mercator dans la cartographie de l’Europe occidentale et des États-Unis découle du rôle joué par les navigateurs, les sociétés et les organismes scientifiques, ainsi que les producteurs de cartes de référence et de cartes thématiques de même que d’atlas à l’usage du public. Les données, que l’auteure soumet à une analyse de contenu, proviennent du registre de publication de cartes du monde individuelles et apparaissant dans les atlas, et elles sont comparées et confrontées aux données historiques de sources complémentaires. L’étude révèle que l’utilisation impropre de la projection de Mercator a commencé après 1700, au moment où elle a été rattachée aux travaux des scientifiques auprès des navigateurs et à la création de la cartographie thématique. Au cours du dix-huitième siècle, la projection de Mercator a été diffusée dans les publications et les rapports destinés aux sociétés de géographie qui décrivaient les explorations financées par l’État. Au dix-neuvième siècle, l’influence de scientifiques bien connus faisant usage de la projection de Mercator a filtré dans les publications destinées au grand public. L’utilisation de la projection de Mercator dans la production de cartes du monde en cartographie de référence et en cartographie thématique est un choix qui résultait de la validation indirecte de cette projection par les milieux scientifique et universitaire depuis le dix-huitième siècle jusque tard au dix-neuvième siècle.

Lithoprobe (1984–2005), Canada’s national, collaborative, multidisciplinary, Earth Science research project, investigated the structure and evolution of the Canadian landmass and its margins. It was a highly successful project that redefined the nature of Earth science research in Canada. One of many contributions deriving from the project was the demonstration by example that Earth scientists from geophysics and geology, including all applicable sub-disciplines within these general study areas, must work together to achieve thorough and comprehensive interpretations of all available data sets. In Part 1, this statement was exemplified through studies involving lithospheric structures. In Part 2, it is exemplified by summarizing interpretations from six exploration-related studies derived from journal publications. In the first example, subsurface structures associated with the Guichon Creek batholith in south-central British Columbia, which hosts porphyry copper and molybdenum deposits, are better defined and related to different geological phases of the batholith. Reprocessed seismic reflection data and 2.5-D and 3-D inversions of magnetic and gravity data are combined with detailed geological mapping and drillhole information to generate the revised and improved subsurface interpretation. Research around the Bell Allard volcanogenic massive sulphide deposit in the Matagami region of northern Quebec provides the second example. A seismic reflection line over the deposit shortly after it was discovered by drilling, aided by core and geophysical logs, was acquired to test whether the deposit could be imaged. Direct detection of the ore body from the seismic section would be difficult if its location were not already known; however, structural characteristics that can be tied to lithologies from boreholes and logs were well identified. Nickel deposits and associated structures in the Thompson belt at the western limit of the Superior Province in northern Manitoba were the focus of seismic and electromagnetic (EM) studies combined with geology and physical property measurements. The combined seismic/EM image indicates that the rocks of the prospective Ospwagan Group, which have low resistivity, extend southeastward beneath the Archean gneiss and that structural culminations control the subsurface geometry of the Ospwagan Group. The Sudbury structure in Ontario is famous for its nickel deposits, the largest in the world, which formed as the result of a catastrophic meteorite impact. To help reconcile some of the enigmas and apparent contradictions surrounding studies of the structure and to develop more effective geophysical techniques to locate new deposits, Lithoprobe partnered with industry to carry out geophysical surveys combined with the extensive geological information available. A revised structural model for the Sudbury structure was generated and a 3-D seismic reflection survey identified a nickel deposit, known from drilling results, prior to any mine development. The Athabasca Basin of northwestern Saskatchewan and northeastern Alberta is one of the world’s most prolific producers of uranium from its characteristically high-grade unconformity-type deposits and is the only current uranium producer in Canada. An extensive database of geology, drillhole data and physical properties exists. Working with industry collaborators, Lithoprobe demonstrated the value of high-resolution seismic for imaging the unconformity and faults associated with the deposits. The final example involves a unique seismic reflection experiment to image the diamondiferous Snap Lake kimberlite dyke in the Slave Province of the Northwest Territories. The opportunity to study geological samples of the kimberlite dyke and surrounding rocks and to ground-truth the seismic results with drillhole data made available by the two industry collaborators enabled a case history study that was highly successful.RÉSUMÉLithoprobe (1984-2005), ce projet de recherche pancanadien, multidisciplinaire et concerté en sciences de la Terre, a étudié la structure et l'évolution de la croûte continentale canadienne et de ses marges. Ça a été un projet très réussi et qui a redéfini la nature de la recherche en sciences de la Terre au Canada. L'une des nombreuses retombées de ce projet a démontré par l'exemple que les spécialistes des sciences de la Terre en géophysique et en géologie, y compris toutes les sous-disciplines applicables dans ces domaines d'étude généraux, doivent travailler de concert afin de parvenir à une interprétation exhaustive de tous les ensembles de données disponibles. Dans la partie 1, cette approche s'est concrétisée par des études portant sur les structures lithosphériques. Dans la partie 2, elle a produit un résumé des interprétations tirées de six études liées à l'exploration à partir de publications dans des revues scientifiques. Dans le premier exemple, les structures souterraines associées au batholite du ruisseau Guichon, dans le centre-sud de la Colombie-Britannique, et qui renferme des gisements porphyriques de cuivre et de molybdène, sont maintenant mieux définies et mieux reliées aux différentes phases géologiques du batholite. Un retraitement des données de sismique réflexion, et d’inversion magnétique et gravimétrique 2,5-D et 3-D combiné à une cartographie géologique détaillée et à des données de forage ont permis une interprétation révisée et améliorée du de subsurface. La recherche autour du gisement de sulfures massifs volcanogéniques de Bell Allard de la région de Matagami, dans le nord du Québec, est un deuxième exemple. Un levé de sismique réflexion réalisé au-dessus du gisement, peu après sa découverte par forage, couplé avec des diagraphies géophysiques et de carottes, a été réalisé pour vérifier si l'ensemble pouvait donner une image du gisement. La détection directe du gisement de minerai à partir de la coupe sismique serait difficile si son emplacement n'était pas déjà connu; cependant, les caractéristiques structurales qui peuvent être liées aux lithologies déduites des forages et des diagraphies ont été bien définies. Les gisements de nickel et les structures qui y sont reliées dans la bande de Thompson, à la limite ouest de la province du Supérieur, dans le nord du Manitoba, ont fait l'objet d'études sismiques et électromagnétiques (EM), combinés à des mesures de caractéristiques géologiques et physiques. L'image sismique/EM combinée indique que les roches du groupe d’intérêt d’Ospwagan, lesquelles ont une résistivité faible, s'étendent vers le sud-est sous le gneiss archéen et, les culminations structurales contrôlent la géométrie souterraine du groupe d’Ospwagan. La structure de Sudbury, en Ontario, est réputée pour ses gisements de nickel, les plus importants au monde, lesquels se sont formés à la suite d'un impact météoritique catastrophique. Pour aider à comprendre certaines des énigmes et résoudre d’apparentes contradictions entourant les études de la structure, et pour développer des techniques géophysiques plus efficaces afin de localiser de nouveaux gisements, Lithoprobe s'est associé à l'entreprise privée pour réaliser des levés géophysiques, et les comparer aux très nombreuses informations géologiques disponibles. Une révision du modèle structural du gisement de Sudbury, ajouté à un levé sismique réflexion tridimensionnelle, ont permis de circonscrire un gisement de nickel, avant tout autre travail de développement minier. Le bassin de l'Athabasca, dans le nord-ouest de la Saskatchewan et le nord-est de l'Alberta, est l'un des producteurs d'uranium les plus prolifiques au monde provenant de gisements à haute teneur de type discordant, et est le seul producteur d'uranium au Canada. Une volumineuse base de données sur la géologie, les forages et les propriétés physiques est disponible. En collaboration avec des entreprises privées, Lithoprobe a démontré la valeur de la sismique à haute résolution pour l'imagerie de la discordance et des failles associées aux gisements. Le dernier exemple est celui d'une expérience de sismique réflexion unique visant à représenter le dyke de kimberlite diamantifère du lac Snap dans la province des Esclaves, dans les Territoires du Nord-Ouest. L'occasion d'étudier des échantillons géologiques du dyke de kimberlite, et des roches environnantes, et de valider les résultats sismiques à l'aide des données de forage mises à disposition par les deux partenaires privés, a permis une étude de cas très fructueuse.

In 2017, the Geological Survey of Canada (GSC) celebrated its 175th anniversary, just as the 150th anniversary of the Canadian Confederation was celebrated. In many ways, the development of this organization over its long history parallels the exploration and economic development of our country, and these two stories are very closely intertwined. In its early days, the GSC was involved in charting the essential geography of Canada’s landmass, and early GSC geologists were involved in some of the discoveries that laid a foundation for our modern resource economy. In the 21st century, the GSC remains at the forefront of geoscience research across the nation, collaborating with many Provincial and Territorial partners and also with academic and industry researchers to expand our knowledge and find ways to sustainably develop our resources. Like all organizations, GSC has evolved over the years, and must continue to do so in response to technological innovation and societal demands. This article provides an overview of where we came from, where we have been, where we are today, and where we hope to go in the future. It is hoped that it will provide a starting point for other articles highlighting some of GSC’s more specific scientific contributions over the years, and exploring some of the many characters who colourfully populate its long history.RÉSUMÉEn 2017, la Commission géologique du Canada (CGC) a célébré son 175ème anniversaire, alors que l’on célébrait le 150ème anniversaire de la confédération canadienne. De plusieurs façons, le développement de cette organisation au cours de sa longue histoire suit en parallèle l’exploration et le développement économique de notre pays, et ces deux histoires sont très intimement inter-reliées. Dans ses premiers jours, la CGC a été impliquée dans la cartographie géographique essentielle de la masse continentale du Canada, et ses premiers géologues de la CGC ont été impliqués dans certaines des découvertes qui ont jeté les bases de notre économie moderne des ressources. Au XXIe siècle, la CGC reste à l’avant-garde de la recherche géoscientifique à travers le pays et collabore avec de nombreux partenaires provinciaux et territoriaux ainsi qu’avec des chercheurs universitaires et industriels afin d’élargir nos connaissances et de trouver des moyens de développer nos ressources de manière durable. Comme toutes les organisations, la CGC a évolué au cours des années, et doit continuer de le faire en réponse à l’innovation technologique et aux besoins sociétaux. Cet article fourni un aperçu de nos origines, de notre cheminement, de notre situation actuelle et de nos objectifs futurs. On espère que cela fournira un point de départ pour d’autres articles mettant en lumière certaines des contributions scientifiques plus spécifiques de la CGC au fil des ans et explorant certains des nombreux personnages qui peuplent de manière colorée sa longue histoire.

Les Syrian Studies ont une histoire longue et connaissent un approfondissement par à-coups. En particulier, depuis les années 1980, elles oscillent entre appels à comprendre et coups d’arrêt, et ce largement en fonction des impératifs dictés par le régime. À partir d’une connaissance du terrain, du milieu de la recherche, et d’une exploration quantitative des productions sur le pays, nous analysons ce que nous appelons le « still researching ». Si le moment révolutionnaire de 2011 ne constitue pas directement une rupture pour les études syriennes, les chercheurs voient leurs conditions de recherches immédiatement modifiées, tout en étant sommés d’expliquer le bouleversement. Après la sidération, thématiques et cartographies de la recherche évoluent alors au gré des opportunités ou fermetures provoquées par le conflit.

Cet article présente les différentes étapes de mes explorations transdisciplinaires, nées du besoin de créer des liens, de multiplier les occasions de rencontres entre les disciplines, entre les êtres qui les incarnent. La première partie est consacrée à la géopoétique, théorie-pratique qui cherche à créer un « nouveau territoire » dans lequel se croisent les sciences, les arts et la littérature. Il s’agit autrement dit d’un champ transdisciplinaire, où la recherche et la création sont conçues comme les deux volets essentiels d’une démarche sensible et intellectuelle visant à intensifier le rapport au monde. La transdisciplinarité est ici définie comme lieu de rencontre au-delà de toute discipline, mais aussi au-delà du cadre universitaire dans la mesure où chercheur·euse·s et artistes travaillent ensemble, créant ainsi des ponts entre l’université et la communauté. La deuxième partie tente de situer l’approche géopoétique du texte littéraire par rapport aux autres approches critiques explorant les liens entre littérature et géographie, soit la géocritique, la géographie littéraire et la cartographie littéraire. Enfin, la troisième partie présente l’approche botanique de la littérature mise au point récemment par le groupe de recherche « L’imaginaire botanique », une approche s’inscrivant au croisement de la géopoétique et de l’écocritique et accordant une large place à la botanique, à la géographie et à la philosophie. Une approche qui se présentait au départ sous l’angle de l’interdisciplinarité mais qui a fini par prendre elle aussi une envergure transdisciplinaire.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> The decision about removing or maintaining an object while changing detail level requires taking into account many features of the object itself and its surrounding. Automatic generalization is the optimal way to obtain maps at various scales, based on a single spatial database, storing up-to-date information with a high level of spatial accuracy. Researchers agree on the need for fully automating the generalization process (Stoter et al., 2016). Numerous research centres, cartographic agencies as well as commercial companies have undertaken successful attempts of implementing certain generalization solutions (Stoter et al., 2009, 2014, 2016; Regnauld, 2015; Burghardt et al., 2008; Chaundhry and Mackaness, 2008). Nevertheless, an effective and consistent methodology for generalizing small-scale maps has not gained enough attention so far, as most of the conducted research has focused on the acquisition of large-scale maps (Stoter et al., 2016). The presented research aims to fulfil this gap by exploring new variables, which are of the key importance in the automatic settlement selection process at small scales. Addressing this issue is an essential step to propose new algorithms for effective and automatic settlement selection that will contribute to enriching, the sparsely filled small-scale generalization toolbox.</p><p>The main idea behind this research is using machine learning (ML) for the new variable exploration which can be important in the automatic settlement generalization in small-scales. For automation of the generalization process, cartographic knowledge has to be collected and formalized. So far, a few approaches based on the use of ML have already been proposed. One of the first attempts to determine generalization parameters with the use of ML was performed by Weibel et al. (1995). The learning material was the observation of cartographers manual work. Also, Mustière tried to identify the optimal sequence of the generalization operators for the roads using ML (1998). A different approach was presented by Sester (2000). The goal was to extract the cartographic knowledge from spatial data characteristics, especially from the attributes and geometric properties of objects, regularities and repetitive patterns that govern object selection with the use of decision trees. Lagrange et al. (2000), Balboa and López (2008) also used ML techniques, namely neural networks to generalize line objects. Recently, Sester et al. (2018) proposed the application of deep learning for the task of building generalization. As noticed by Sester et al. (2018), these ideas, although interesting, remained proofs of concepts only. Moreover, they concerned topographic databases and large-scale maps. Promising results of automatic settlement selection in small scales was reported by Karsznia and Weibel (2018). To improve the settlement selection process, they have used data enrichment and ML. Thanks to classification models based on the decision trees, they explored new variables that are decisive in the settlement selection process. However, they have also concluded that there is probably still more “deep knowledge” to be discovered, possibly linked to further variables that were not included in their research. Thus the motivation for this research is to fulfil this research gap and look for additional, essential variables governing settlement selection in small scales.</p>

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Data is regarded as the oil of the 21st century, and the concept of data science has received increasing attention in the last years. These trends are mainly caused by the rise of big data &amp;ndash; data that is big in terms of volume, variety and velocity. Consequently, data scientists are required to make sense of these large datasets. Companies have problems acquiring talented people to solve data science problems. This is not surprising, as employers often expect skillsets that can hardly be found in one person: Not only does a data scientist need to have a solid background in machine learning, statistics and various programming languages, but often also in IT systems architecture, databases, complex mathematics. Above all, she should have a strong non-technical domain expertise in her field (see Figure 1).</p><p>As it is widely accepted that 80% of data has a spatial component, developments in data science could provide exciting new opportunities for GIS and cartography: Cartographers are experts in spatial data visualization, and often also very skilled in statistics, data pre-processing and analysis in general. The cartographers’ skill levels often depend on the degree to which cartography programs at universities focus on the “front end” (visualisation) of a spatial data and leave the “back end” (modelling, gathering, processing, analysis) to GIScientists. In many university curricula, these front-end and back-end distinctions between cartographers and GIScientists are not clearly defined, and the boundaries are somewhat blurred.</p><p>In order to become good data scientists, cartographers and GIScientists need to acquire certain additional skills that are often beyond their university curricula. These skills include programming, machine learning and data mining. These are important technologies for extracting knowledge big spatial data sets, and thereby the logical advancement to “traditional” geoprocessing, which focuses on “traditional” (small, structured, static) datasets such shapefiles or feature classes.</p><p>To bridge the gap between spatial sciences (such as GIS and cartography) and data science, we need an integrated framework of “spatial data science” (Figure 2).</p><p>Spatial sciences focus on causality, theory-based approaches to explain why things are happening in space. In contrast, the scope of data science is to find similar patterns in big datasets with techniques of machine learning and data mining &amp;ndash; often without considering spatial concepts (such as topology, spatial indexing, spatial autocorrelation, modifiable area unit problems, map projections and coordinate systems, uncertainty in measurement etc.).</p><p>Spatial data science could become the core competency of GIScientists and cartographers who are willing to integrate methods from the data science knowledge stack. Moreover, data scientists could enhance their work by integrating important spatial concepts and tools from GIS and cartography into data science workflows. A non-exhaustive knowledge stack for spatial data scientists, including typical tasks and tools, is given in Table 1.</p><p>There are many interesting ongoing projects at the interface of spatial and data science. Examples from the ArcGIS platform include:</p><ul><li>Integration of Python GIS APIs with Machine Learning libraries, such as scikit-learn or TensorFlow, in Jupyter Notebooks</li><li>Combination of R (advanced statistics and visualization) and GIS (basic geoprocessing, mapping) in ModelBuilder and other automatization frameworks</li><li>Enterprise GIS solutions for distributed geoprocessing operations on big, real-time vector and raster datasets</li><li>Dashboards for visualizing real-time sensor data and integrating it with other data sources</li><li>Applications for interactive data exploration</li><li>GIS tools for Machine Learning tasks for prediction, clustering and classification of spatial data</li><li>GIS Integration for Hadoop</li></ul><p>While the discussion about proprietary (ArcGIS) vs. open-source (QGIS) software is beyond the scope of this article, it has to be stated that a.) many ArcGIS projects are actually open-source and b.) using a complete GIS platform instead of several open-source pieces has several advantages, particularly in efficiency, maintenance and support (see Wilkening et al. (2019) for a more detailed consideration). At any rate, cartography and GIS tools are the essential technology blocks for solving the (80% spatial) data science problems of the future.</p>

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Thoroughly prepared historical map data can facilitate research in a wide range of domains, including ecology and hydrology (e.g., for preservation and renaturation), urban planning and architecture (e.g., to analyse the settlement development), geology and insurance (e.g., to derive indicators of past natural hazards to estimate future events), and even linguistics (e.g., to explore the evolution of toponyms). Research groups in Switzerland have invested large amounts of time and money to manually derive features (e.g., pixel-based segmentations, vectorizations) from historical maps such as the Dufour Map Series (1845&amp;ndash;1865) or the Siegfried Map Series (1872&amp;ndash;1949). The results of these efforts typically cover limited areas of the respective map series and are tailored to specific research questions.</p><p>Recent research in automated data extraction from historical maps shows that Deep Learning (DL) methods based on Artificial Neural Networks (ANN) might significantly reduce this manual workload (Uhl et al. (2017), Heitzler et al. (2018)). Yet, efficiently exploiting DL methods to provide high-quality features requires detailed knowledge of the underlying mathematical concepts and software libraries, high-performance hardware to train models in a timely manner, and sufficient amounts of data.</p><p>Hence, a new initiative at the Institute of Cartography and Geoinformation (IKG) at ETH Zurich aims to establish a hub to systematically bundle the efforts of the many Swiss institutes working with historical map data and to provide the computational capabilities to efficiently extract the desired features from the vast collection of Swiss historical maps. This is primarily achieved by providing a spatial data infrastructure (SDI), which integrates a geoportal with a DL environment (see Figure 1).</p><p>The SDI builds on top of the geoportal geodata4edu.ch (G4E), which was established to facilitate the access of federal and cantonal geodata to Swiss academic institutions. G4E inherently supports the integration and exploration of spatio-temporal data via an easy-to-use web interface and common web services and hence is an ideal choice to share historical map data. Making historical map data accessible in G4E is realized using state-of-the-art software libraries (e.g., Tensorflow, Keras), and suitable hardware (e.g., NVIDIA GPUs). Existing project data generated by the Swiss scientific community serve as the initial set to train a DL model for a specific thematic layer. If such data does not exist it is generated manually. Combining these data with georeferenced sheets of the corresponding map series allows the DL system to learn a way of obtaining the expected results based on the input map sheet. In the common case where an actual vectorization of a thematic layer is required, two steps are taken. First, the underlying ANN architecture yields a segmentation of the map sheet to determine which pixel is part of the feature type of interest (e.g., by using a fully convolutional architecture such as U-Net (Ronneberger et al. (2015)) and, second, the resulting segmentations will be vectorized using GIS algorithms (e.g., using methods as described in Hori &amp; Okazaki (1992)). These vectorizations undergo a quality check and might be directly published in G4E if the quality is considered high enough. In addition, the results may be manually corrected. A corrected dataset may have a greater value for the scientific community but might be time consuming to create. However, it has also the advantage to serve as additional training data for the DL system. This may lead to a positive feedback loop, which allows the ANN to gradually improve its predictions, which in turn improves the vectorization results and hence reduces the correction workload. Figure 2 shows automatically generated vectorizations of building footprints after two such iterations. Special emphasis was put on enforcing perpendicularity without requiring human intervention. At the time of writing, such building polygons have been generated for all Siegfried map sheets.</p><p>It is worth emphasizing that showing the ability of generating high-quality features of single thematic layers at a large scale and making them easily available to the scientific community is a key aspect when establishing a hub for sharing historical map data. Research groups are more willing to share their data if they see that the coverage of the data they produce might get multiplied and if they realize that other groups are providing their data as well. Apart from the benefits for research groups using such data, such an environment also allows to facilitate the development of new methods to derive features from historical maps (e.g., for extraction, generalization). The current focus lies on the systematic preparation of all thematic layers of the main Swiss map series. Afterwards it is aimed to place higher emphasis on the fusion of the extracted layers. In the long-term, these efforts will lead to a comprehensive spatio-temporal database of high scientific value for the Swiss scientific community.</p>

The year 2019 is the 150th anniversary of John Wesley Powell’s epic exploration of the Colorado River through Grand Canyon and the 100th anniversary of the establishment of Grand Canyon National Park. This is an excellent moment to look back 150 years to think about where we have come from as a science and society, and look forward 100 years towards the accelerated change we expect in the future. For historians, archaeologists, geologists and astronomers, of course, this century-long time scale is short compared to other perspectives. They might choose also to celebrate the 479th anniversary of the first sighting of Grand Canyon by Europeans in 1540, the 1000th anniversary of Ancestral Puebloan farmers in Grand Canyon, the 12,000th anniversary of the arrival of humans migrating south from the Bering Land Bridge, the 5 millionth anniversary of the integration of the Colorado River through Grand Canyon to the Gulf of California, the 4.6 billionth anniversary of the formation of Earth, or the 13.75 billionth anniversary of the Big Bang and the formation of our Universe. Geology is all about time, and knowing some geology helps with the difficult endeavour of placing human timeframes into perspectives of deep time. This guide is for geology students of all levels and types visiting the South Rim of Grand Canyon. It is designed as a 3-day field trip and introduction to the rocks and landscapes. The term ‘students’ in our view also includes visitors who want to know about the basics of Grand Canyon geology while taking scenic hikes to see the geology first-hand. It is organized as if you enter the Park at its East entrance, near Cameron, and exit the Park at the South entrance, towards Flagstaff, but the three activities can be done in any order. As an introduction, we present a brief summary of the history of geologic maps and stratigraphic columns, and the geologists who made them. The maps and depictions of Grand Canyon geology over the past 160 years record a visual progression of how geoscience knowledge in general has developed and matured. The first sixty years, before the Park was founded, may have been the greatest in terms of the rapid growth that merged geology, art and public outreach. The second fifty years (to about 1969) saw important advances in stratigraphy and paleontology and solid efforts by the Park to apply and interpret Grand Canyon geology for the public. The most recent 50 years have seen major advances in regional geological mapping, dating of rocks, plate tectonics, and improved geoscience interpretation. The next 100 years will hopefully see additional innovative efforts to use the iconic field laboratory of Grand Canyon rocks and landscapes to resolve global geoscience debates, inform resource sustainability imperatives and contribute to science literacy for an international public. The three activities described are as follows: Activity 1 (an hour or two) is an overview from Lipan Point. This is a vehicle pull-out on the East Rim drive and serves as an introduction for those entering the Park, or a recap for those who are leaving. Activity 2 (most of a day) is a day hike on the South Rim with visits to Yavapai Geology Museum and the Trail of Time Exhibit. The Trail of Time is a geology timeline trail laid out at a scale of one metre = 1 million years along the Rim Trail. It is a great family hike, fully accessible, with magnificent views of Grand Canyon. The rocks were collected along the river and have been placed at their ‘birthdays’ along the Trail for you to see and touch and sketch. If you walk the entire 4.56 km (2.8 mile) Trail of Time, a long way, you get a visceral feeling for the age of the Earth and you also go through historic Grand Canyon Village for lunch and shops. Activity 3 (all day) is a hike to Plateau Point along the Bright Angel Trail. One has not really seen and appreciated Grand Canyon geology until you delve its depths. You can go any distance down, but if you do the entire 19 km (12 mile) hike, you descend through a 1 km (3300 foot) thick set of Paleozoic rock layers to a spectacular vista where you feel like you can touch the Colorado River as well as the Grand Canyon Supergroup and Vishnu basement rocks of the inner Granite Gorge. The Plateau Point Trail takes off at Indian Gardens, or alternatively, this guide describes some good geology stops a short way down Garden Creek. The Bright Angel Trail continues to the Colorado River and to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon, but this is generally done as an overnight endeavour. You can get campground reservations (https://www.nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/campsite-information.htm) or reservations at Phantom Ranch well in advance through a lottery (https://www.grandcanyonlodges.com/lodging/lottery/). RÉSUMÉL’année 2019 marque le 150e anniversaire de l’exploration épique du fleuve Colorado par John Wesley Powell à travers le Grand Canyon ainsi que le 100e anniversaire de la création du parc national du Grand Canyon. C’est un excellent moment pour regarder 150 ans en arrière et se rappeler le chemin parcouru par la science et la société, et envisager le changement accéléré auquel nous nous attendons pour les 100 prochaines années. Pour les historiens, les archéologues, les géologues et les astronomes, bien sûr, cette échelle d'un siècle est courte par rapport à d'autres perspectives. Ils pourraient également choisir de célébrer le 479e anniversaire de la première observation du Grand Canyon par les Européens en 1540, le 1000e anniversaire des agriculteurs Pueblo ancestraux dans le Grand Canyon, le 12 000e anniversaire de l'arrivée d'humains migrant depuis l'isthme de Béring vers le sud, le 5 millionième anniversaire de l'intégration du fleuve Colorado à travers le Grand Canyon jusqu'au golfe de Californie, le 4,6 milliardième anniversaire de la formation de la Terre ou le 13,75 milliardième anniversaire du Big Bang et de la formation de notre univers. La géologie est une question de temps, et connaître un peu de géologie facilite la tâche difficile qui consiste à placer l’échelle de temps humaine dans le contexte du « temps profond ». Ce guide est destiné aux étudiants en géologie de tous niveaux et de tous types qui visitent le South Rim du Grand Canyon. Il est conçu comme une excursion de trois jours et une initiation aux roches et aux paysages. Selon nous, le terme « étudiants » inclut également les visiteurs qui souhaitent en savoir plus sur la géologie de base du Grand Canyon tout en faisant des randonnées panoramiques pour observer la géologie. Il est organisé comme si vous entrez dans le parc par son entrée est, près de Cameron, et quittez le parc par l’entrée sud, en direction de Flagstaff, mais les trois activités peuvent être effectuées dans n’importe quel ordre. En guise d'introduction, nous présentons un bref résumé de l'histoire des cartes géologiques et des colonnes stratigraphiques, ainsi que les géologues qui les ont réalisées. Les cartes et les représentations de la géologie du Grand Canyon au cours des 160 dernières années montrent une progression visuelle de l'évolution et de la maturation des connaissances géoscientifiques en général. Les soixante premières années, avant la création du parc, ont peut-être été les meilleures en termes de croissance rapide résultant de la fusion de la géologie, de l’art et de la vulgarisation. Les cinquante années suivantes (jusqu’en 1969 environ) ont été marquées par d’importants progrès en stratigraphie et paléontologie et par les efforts soutenus du parc pour permettre au public d'accéder à l’application et l’interprétation de la géologie du Grand Canyon. Au cours des 50 dernières années, la cartographie géologique régionale, la datation des roches, la tectonique des plaques et l'amélioration de l'interprétation géoscientifique ont considérablement progressé. Espérons que les 100 prochaines années verront des efforts novateurs supplémentaires visant à utiliser l’emblématique laboratoire des roches et du paysages du Grand Canyon pour résoudre les débats géoscientifiques mondiaux, informer sur les impératifs de durabilité des ressources et contribuer à la culture scientifique d’un public international. Les trois activités décrites sont les suivantes. L’activité 1 (une heure ou deux) est une vue d’ensemble de Lipan Point. Il s’agit d’une sortie en véhicule sur East Rim Drive et sert d’introduction pour ceux qui entrent dans le parc ou de récapitulation pour ceux qui en partent. L'activité 2 (presque une journée) est une randonnée d'une journée sur le South Rim avec la visite du musée de géologie de Yavapai et de l'exposition « Trail of Time ». Le « Trail of Time » est un sentier chronologique géologique tracé à une échelle d'un mètre pour un million d'années le long de Rim Trail. C'est une excellente randonnée en famille, entièrement accessible, avec des vues magnifiques sur le Grand Canyon. Les roches ont été collectées le long de la rivière et ont été placées à leurs « anniversaires » le long du sentier pour que le public puisse les voir, les toucher et les dessiner. Le parcours entier du « Trail of Time » sur 4,56 km (2,8 miles) offre une représentation intuitive de l'âge de la Terre et permet de passer également par le village historique du Grand Canyon pour déjeuner et faire les boutiques. L'activité 3 (toute la journée) consiste en une randonnée vers Plateau Point, le long de Bright Angel Trail. On n'a pas vraiment vu et apprécié la géologie du Grand Canyon tant qu’on n’en a pas exploré les profondeurs. N'importe quelle distance peut être parcourue, mais en arpentant les 19 km (12 milles) de la randonnée entière, on descend à travers un ensemble de couches de roches paléozoïques épaisses de 1 km (3 300 pieds) jusqu'à une vue spectaculaire où on a l’impression de pouvoir toucher le fleuve Colorado ainsi que le super-groupe du Grand Canyon et les roches du socle de Vishnu de la gorge granitique intérieure. Le Plateau Point Trail commence à Indian Gardens mais ce guide propose d’autres points de départ avec une géologie intéressante non loin de Garden Creek. Le Bright Angel Trail continue vers le fleuve Colorado et le Phantom Ranch au fond du canyon, mais cela se fait généralement de manière nocturne. Des emplacements aux terrains de camping peuvent être réservés (https://www.nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/campsite-information.htm) ou des réservations au Phantom Ranch peuvent être obtenues bien à l’avance par le biais d’une loterie (https://www.grandcanyonlodges.com/lodging/lottery/).

The digital revolution has been characterized by the overlapping of different media technologies and platforms which reshaped both traditional forms of audiovisual consumption and older conceptions of place and space. John Agnew claims that, traditionally, the notion of place has been associated with two different meanings: ‘the first is a geometric conception of place as a mere part of space and the second is a phenomenological understanding of a place as a distinctive coming together in space’ (317). Both of the dominant meanings have been challenged by the idea that the world itself is increasingly “placeless” as space-spanning connections and flows of information, things, and people undermine the rootedness of a wide range of processes anywhere in particular (Friedman). On the one hand, by obliterating physical distance, new technologies such as the Internet and the cell phone are making places obsolete, on the other hand, the proliferation of media representations favoured by these technologies are making places more relevant than ever. These increasing mediatisation processes, in fact, generate what Urry and Larsen call ‘imaginative geographies’, namely the conflation of representational spaces and physical spaces that substitute and enhance each other in contingent ways (116). The smartphone as a new hybrid media platform that combines different technological features such as digital screens, complex software applications, cameras, tools for online communication and GPS devices, has played a crucial role in the construction of new notions of place. This article examines a specific type of phone applications: mobile, digital mapping tools that allow users to identify film-locations. In doing so it will assess how new media platforms can potentially reconfigure notions of both media consumption, and (physical and imagined) mobility. Furthermore, the analysis of digital movie maps and their mediation of film locations will shed light on the way in which contemporary leisure activities reshape the cultural, social and geographic meaning of place. Digital, Mobile Movie MapsDigital movie maps can be defined as software applications, conceived for smart phones or other mobile devices, which enable users to identify the geographical position of film locations. These applications rely on geotagging which is the process of adding geospatial metadata (usually latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates) to texts or images. From this point of view these phone apps belong to a broader category of media that Tristan Thielmann calls geomedia: converging applications of interactive, digital, mapping tools and mobile and networked media technologies. According to Hjorth, recent studies on mobile media practices show a trend toward “re-enacting the importance of place and home as both a geo-imaginary and socio-cultural precept” (Hjorth 371). In 2008 Google announced that Google Maps and Google Earth will become the basic platform for any information search. Similarly, in 2010 Flickr started georeferencing their complete image stock (Thielmann 8). Based on these current developments media scholars such as Thielmann claim that geomedia will emerge in the future as one of the most pervasive forms of digital technology (8).In my research I identified 44 phone geomedia apps that offered content variously related to film locations. In every case the main functionality of the apps consisted in matching geographic data concerning the locations with visual and written information about the corresponding film production. ‘Scene Seekers’, the first app able to match the title of a film with the GPS map of its locations, was released in 2009. Gradually, subsequent film-location apps incorporated a number of other functions including:Trivia and background information about films and locationsSubmission forms which allow users to share information about their favourite film locatiosLocation photosLinks to film downloadFilm-themed itinerariesAudio guidesOnline discussion groupsCamera/video function which allow users to take photos of the locations and share them on social mediaFilm stills and film clipsAfter identifying the movie map apps, I focused on the examination of the secondary functions they offered and categorized the applications based on both their main purpose and their main target users (as explicitly described in the app store). Four different categories of smart phone applications emerged. Apps conceived for:Business (for location scouts and producers)Entertainment (for trivia and quiz buffs)Education (for students and film history lovers)Travel (for tourists)‘Screen New South Wales Film Location Scout’, an app designed for location scouts requiring location contact information across the state of New South Wales, is an example of the first category. The app provides lists, maps and images of locations used in films shot in the region as well as contact details for local government offices. Most of these types of apps are available for free download and are commissioned by local authorities in the hope of attracting major film productions, which in turn might bring social and economic benefits to the region.A small number of the apps examined target movie fans and quiz buffs. ‘James Bond and Friends’, for example, focuses on real life locations where spy/thriller movies have been shot in London. Interactive maps and photos of the locations show their geographical position. The app also offers a wealth of trivia on spy/thriller movies and tests users’ knowledge of James Bond films with quizzes about the locations. While some of these apps provide information on how to reach particular film locations, the emphasis is on trivia and quizzes rather than travel itself.Some of the apps are explicitly conceived for educational purposes and target film students, film scholars and users interested in the history of film more broadly. The Italian Ministry for Cultural Affairs, for example, developed a number of smartphone apps designed to promote knowledge about Italian Cinema. Each application focuses on one Italian city, and was designed for users wishing to acquire more information about the movie industry in that urban area. The ‘Cinema Roma’ app, for example, contains a selection of geo-referenced film sets from a number of famous films shot in Rome. The film spots are presented via a rich collection of historical images and texts from the Italian National Photographic Archive.Finally, the majority of the apps analysed (around 60%) explicitly targets tourists. One of the most popular film-tourist applications is the ‘British Film Locations’ app with over 100,000 downloads since its launch in 2011. ‘British Film Locations’ was commissioned by VisitBritain, the British tourism agency. Visit Britain has attempted to capitalize on tourists’ enthusiasm around film blockbusters since the early 2000s as their research indicated that 40% of potential visitors would be very likely to visit the place they had seen in films or on TV (VisitBritain). British Film Locations enables users to discover and photograph the most iconic British film locations in cinematic history. Film tourists can search by film title, each film is accompanied by a detailed synopsis and list of locations so users can plan an entire British film tour. The app also allows users to take photos of the location and automatically share them on social networks such as Facebook or Twitter.Movie Maps and Film-TourismAs already mentioned, the majority of the film-location phone apps are designed for travel purposes and include functionalities that cater for the needs of the so called ‘post-tourists’. Maxine Feifer employed this term to describe the new type of tourist arising out of the shift from mass to post-Fordist consumption. The post-tourist crosses physical and virtual boundaries and shifts between experiences of everyday life, either through the actual or the simulated mobility allowed by the omnipresence of signs and electronic images in the contemporary age (Leotta). According to Campbell the post-tourist constructs his or her own tourist experience and destination, combining these into a package of overlapping and disjunctive elements: the imagined (dreams and screen cultures), the real (actual travels and guides) and the virtual (myths and internet) (203). More recently a number of scholars (Guttentag, Huang et al., Neuhofer et al.) have engaged with the application and implications of virtual reality on the planning, management and marketing of post-tourist experiences. Film-induced tourism is an expression of post-tourism. Since the mid-1990s a growing number of scholars (Riley and Van Doren, Tooke and Baker, Hudson and Ritchie, Leotta) have engaged with the study of this phenomenon, which Sue Beeton defined as “visitation to sites where movies and TV programmes have been filmed as well as to tours to production studios, including film-related theme parks” (11). Tourists’ fascination with film sets and locations is a perfect example of Baudrillard’s theory of hyperreality. Such places are simulacra which embody the blurred boundaries between reality and representation in a world in which unmediated access to reality is impossible (Baudrillard).Some scholars have focused on the role of mediated discourse in preparing both the site and the traveller for the process of tourist consumption (Friedberg, Crouch et al.). In particular, John Urry highlights the interdependence between tourism and the media with the concept of the ‘tourist gaze’. Urry argues that the gaze dominates tourism, which is primarily concerned with the commodification of images and visual consumption. According to Urry, movies and television play a crucial role in shaping the tourist gaze as the tourist compares what is gazed at with the familiar image of the object of the gaze. The tourist tries to reproduce his or her own expectations, which have been “constructed and sustained through a variety of non-tourist practices, such as film, TV, literature, records, and videos” (Urry 3). The inclusion of the camera functionality in digital movie maps such as ‘British Film Locations’ fulfils the need to actually reproduce the film images that the tourist has seen at home.Film and MapsThe convergence between film and (virtual) travel is also apparent in the prominent role that cartography plays in movies. Films often allude to maps in their opening sequences to situate their stories in time and space. In turn, the presence of detailed geographical descriptions of space at the narrative level often contributes to establish a stronger connection between film and viewers (Conley). Tom Conley notes that a number of British novels and their cinematic adaptations including Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings (LOTR) and Stevenson’s Treasure Island belong to the so called ‘cartographic fiction’ genre. In these stories, maps are deployed to undo the narrative thread and inspire alternative itineraries to the extent of legitimising an interactive relation between text and reader or viewer (Conley 225).The popularity of LOTR locations as film-tourist destinations within New Zealand may be, in part, explained by the prominence of maps as both aesthetic and narrative devices (Leotta). The authenticity of the LOTR geography (both the novel and the film trilogy) is reinforced, in fact, by the reoccurring presence of the map. Tolkien designed very detailed maps of Middle Earth that were usually published in the first pages of the books. These maps play a crucial role in the immersion into the imaginary geography of Middle Earth, which represents one of the most important pleasures of reading LOTR (Simmons). The map also features extensively in the cinematic versions of both LOTR and The Hobbit. The Fellowship of the Ring opens with several shots of a map of Middle Earth, anticipating the narrative of displacement that characterizes LOTR. Throughout the trilogy the physical dimensions of the protagonists’ journey are emphasized by the foregrounding of the landscape as a map.The prominence of maps and geographical exploration as a narrative trope in ‘cartographic fiction’ such as LOTR may be responsible for activating the ‘tourist imagination’ of film viewers (Crouch et al.). The ‘tourist imagination’ is a construct that explains the sense of global mobility engendered by the daily consumption of the media, as well as actual travel. As Crouch, Jackson and Thompson put it, “the activity of tourism itself makes sense only as an imaginative process which involves a certain comprehension of the world and enthuses a distinctive emotional engagement with it” (Crouch et al. 1).The use of movie maps, the quest for film locations in real life may reproduce some of the cognitive and emotional pleasures that were activated while watching the movie, particularly if maps, travel and geographic exploration are prominent narrative elements. Several scholars (Couldry, Hills, Beeton) consider film-induced tourism as a contemporary form of pilgrimage and movie maps are becoming an inextricable part of this media ritual. Hudson and Ritchie note that maps produced by local stakeholders to promote the locations of films such as Sideways and LOTR proved to be extremely popular among tourists (391-392). In their study about the impact of paper movie maps on tourist behaviour in the UK, O’Connor and Pratt found that movie maps are an essential component in the marketing mix of a film location. For example, the map of Pride and Prejudice Country developed by the Derbyshire and Lincolnshire tourist boards significantly helped converting potential visitors into tourists as almost two in five visitors stated it ‘definitely’ turned a possible visit into a certainty (O’Connor and Pratt).Media Consumption and PlaceDigital movie maps have the potential to further reconfigure traditional understandings of media consumption and place. According to Nana Verhoeff digital mapping tools encourage a performative cartographic practice in the sense that the dynamic map emerges and changes during the users’ journey. The various functionalities of digital movie maps favour the hybridization between film reception and space navigation as by clicking on the movie map the user could potentially watch a clip of the film, read about both the film and the location, produce his/her own images and comments of the location and share it with other fans online.Furthermore, digital movie maps facilitate and enhance what Nick Couldry, drawing upon Claude Levi Strauss, calls “parcelling out”: the marking out as significant of differences in ritual space (83). According to Couldry, media pilgrimages, the visitation of TV or film locations are rituals that are based from the outset on an act of comparison between the cinematic depiction of place and its physical counterpart. Digital movie maps have the potential to facilitate this comparison by immediately retrieving images of the location as portrayed in the film. Media locations are rife with the marking of differences between the media world and the real locations as according to Couldry some film tourists seek precisely these differences (83).The development of smart phone movie maps, may also contribute to redefine the notion of audiovisual consumption. According to Nanna Verhoeff, mobile screens of navigation fundamentally revise the spatial coordinates of previously dominant, fixed and distancing cinematic screens. One of the main differences between mobile digital screens and larger, cinematic screens is that rather than being surfaces of projection or transmission, they are interfaces of software applications that combine different technological properties of the hybrid screen device: a camera, an interface for online communication, a GPS device (Verhoeff). Because of these characteristics of hybridity and intimate closeness, mobile screens involve practices of mobile and haptic engagement that turn the classical screen as distanced window on the world, into an interactive, hybrid navigation device that repositions the viewer as central within the media world (Verhoeff).In their discussion of the relocation of cinema into the iPhone, Francesco Casetti and Sara Sampietro reached similar conclusions as they define the iPhone as both a visual device and an interactive interface that mobilizes the eye as well as the hand (Casetti and Sampietro 23). The iPhone constructs an ‘existential bubble’ in which the spectator can find refuge while remaining exposed to the surrounding environment. When the surrounding environment is the real life film location, the consumption or re-consumption of the film text allowed by the digital movie map is informed by multi-sensorial and cognitive stimuli that are drastically different from traditional viewing experiences.The increasing popularity of digital movie maps is a phenomenon that could be read in conjunction with the emergence of innovative locative media such as the Google glasses and other applications of Augmented Reality (A.R.). Current smart phones available in the market are already capable to support A.R. applications and it appears likely that this will become a standard feature of movie apps within the next few years (Sakr). Augmented reality refers to the use of data overlays on real-time camera view of a location which make possible to show virtual objects within their spatial context. The camera eye on the device registers physical objects on location, and transmits these images in real time on the screen. On-screen this image is combined with different layers of data: still image, text and moving image.In a film-tourism application of augmented reality tourists would be able to point their phone camera at the location. As the camera identifies the location images from the film will overlay the image of the ‘real location’. The user, therefore, will be able to simultaneously see and walk in both the real location and the virtual film set. The notion of A.R. is related to the haptic aspect of engagement which in turn brings together the doing, the seeing and the feeling (Verhoeff). In film theory the idea of the haptic has come to stand for an engaged look that involves, and is aware of, the body – primarily that of the viewer (Marx, Sobchack). The future convergence between cinematic and mobile technologies is likely to redefine both perspectives on haptic perception of cinema and theories of film spectatorship.The application of A.R. to digital, mobile maps of film-locations will, in part, fulfill the prophecies of René Barjavel. In 1944, before Bazin’s seminal essay on the myth of total cinema, French critic Barjavel, asserted in his book Le Cinema Total that the technological evolution of the cinematic apparatus will eventually result in the total enveloppement (envelopment or immersion) of the film-viewer. This enveloppement will be characterised by the multi-sensorial experience and the full interactivity of the spectator within the movie itself. More recently, Thielmann has claimed that geomedia such as movie maps constitute a first step toward the vision that one day it might be possible to establish 3-D spaces as a medial interface (Thielmann).Film-Tourism, Augmented Reality and digital movie maps will produce a complex immersive and inter-textual media system which is at odds with Walter Benjamin’s famous thesis on the loss of ‘aura’ in the age of mechanical reproduction (Benjamin), as one of the pleasures of film-tourism is precisely the interaction with the auratic place, the actual film location or movie set. According to Nick Couldry, film tourists are interested in the aura of the place and filming itself. The notion of aura is associated here with both the material history of the location and the authentic experience of it (104).Film locations, as mediated by digital movie maps, are places in which people have a complex sensorial, emotional, cognitive and imaginative involvement. The intricate process of remediation of the film-locations can be understood as a symptom of what Lash and Urry have called the ‘re-subjectification of space’ in which ‘locality’ is re-weighted with a more subjective and affective charge of place (56). According to Lash and Urry the aesthetic-expressive dimensions of the experience of place have become as important as the cognitive ones. By providing new layers of cultural meaning and alternative modes of affective engagement, digital movie maps will contribute to redefine both the notion of tourist destination and the construction of place identity. These processes can potentially be highly problematic as within this context the identity and meanings of place are shaped and controlled by the capital forces that finance and distribute the digital movie maps. Future critical investigations of digital cartography will need to address the way in which issues of power and control are deeply enmeshed within new tourist practices. 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What strikes me about the habits of the people who spend so much time on the Net—well, it’s so new that we don't know what will come next—is in fact precisely how niche in character it is. You ask people what nets they are on, and they’re all so specialised! The Argentines on the Argentine Net and so forth. And it’s particularly the Argentines who are not in Argentina. (Anderson, in Gower, par. 5) The preceding quotation, taken from his 1996 interview with Eric Gower, sees Benedict Anderson reflecting on the formation of imagined, transnational communities on the Internet. Anderson is, of course, famous for his work on how nationalism, as an “imagined community,” gets constructed through the shared consumption of print media (6-7, 26-27); although its readers will never all see each other face to face, people consuming a newspaper or novel in a shared language perceive themselves as members of a collective. In this more recent interview, Anderson recognised the specific groupings of people in online communities: Argentines who find themselves outside of Argentina link up online in an imagined diaspora community. Over the course of the last decade and a half since Anderson spoke about Argentinian migrants and diaspora communities, we have witnessed an exponential growth of new forms of digital communication, including social networking sites (e.g. Facebook), Weblogs, micro-blogging (e.g. Twitter), and video-sharing sites (e.g. YouTube). Alongside these new means of communication, our current epoch of globalisation is also characterised by migration flows across, and between, all continents. In his book Modernity at Large, Arjun Appadurai recognised that “the twin forces of mass migration and electronic mediation” have altered the ways the imagination operates. Furthermore, these two pillars, human motion and digital mediation, are in constant “flux” (44). The circulation of people and digitally mediatised content proceeds across and beyond boundaries of the nation-state and provides ground for alternative community and identity formations. Appadurai’s intervention has resulted in increasing awareness of local, transnational, and global networking flows of people, ideas, and culturally hybrid artefacts. In this article, we analyse the various innovative tactics taken up by migrant youth to imagine digital diasporas. Inspired by scholars such as Appadurai, Avtar Brah and Paul Gilroy, we tease out—from a postcolonial perspective—how digital diasporas have evolved over time from a more traditional understanding as constituted either by a vertical relationship to a distant homeland or a horizontal connection to the scattered transnational community (see Safran, Cohen) to move towards a notion of “hypertextual diaspora.” With hypertextual diaspora, these central axes which constitute the understanding of diaspora are reshuffled in favour of more rhizomatic formations where affiliations, locations, and spaces are constantly destabilised and renegotiated. Needless to say, diasporas are not homogeneous and resist generalisation, but in this article we highlight common ways in which young migrant Internet users renew the practices around diaspora connections. Drawing from research on various migrant populations around the globe, we distinguish three common strategies: (1) the forging of transnational public spheres, based on maintaining virtual social relations by people scattered across the globe; (2) new forms of digital diasporic youth branding; and (3) the cultural production of innovative hypertexts in the context of more rhizomatic digital diaspora formations. Before turning to discuss these three strategies, the potential of a postcolonial framework to recognise multiple intersections of diaspora and digital mediation is elaborated. Hypertext as a Postcolonial Figuration Postcolonial scholars, Appadurai, Gilroy, and Brah among others, have been attentive to diasporic experiences, but they have paid little attention to the specificity of digitally mediated diaspora experiences. As Maria Fernández observes, postcolonial studies have been “notoriously absent from electronic media practice, theory, and criticism” (59). Our exploration of what happens when diasporic youth go online is a first step towards addressing this gap. Conceptually, this is clearly an urgent need since diasporas and the digital inform each other in the most profound and dynamic of ways: “the Internet virtually recreates all those sites which have metaphorically been eroded by living in the diaspora” (Ponzanesi, “Diasporic Narratives” 396). Writings on the Internet tend to favour either the “gold-rush” mentality, seeing the Web as a great equaliser and bringer of neoliberal progress for all, or the more pessimistic/technophobic approach, claiming that technologically determined spaces are exclusionary, white by default, masculine-oriented, and heteronormative (Everett 30, Van Doorn and Van Zoonen 261). For example, the recent study by Ito et al. shows that young people are not interested in merely performing a fiction in a parallel online world; rather, the Internet gets embedded in their everyday reality (Ito et al. 19-24). Real-life commercial incentives, power hierarchies, and hegemonies also get extended to the digital realm (Schäfer 167-74). Online interaction remains pre-structured, based on programmers’ decisions and value-laden algorithms: “people do not need a passport to travel in cyberspace but they certainly do need to play by the rules in order to function electronically” (Ponzanesi, “Diasporic Narratives” 405). We began our article with a statement by Benedict Anderson, stressing how people in the Argentinian diaspora find their space on the Internet. Online avenues increasingly allow users to traverse and add hyperlinks to their personal websites in the forms of profile pages, the publishing of preferences, and possibilities of participating in and affiliating with interest-based communities. Online journals, social networking sites, streaming audio/video pages, and online forums are all dynamic hypertexts based on Hypertext Markup Language (HTML) coding. HTML is the protocol of documents that refer to each other, constituting the backbone of the Web; every text that you find on the Internet is connected to a web of other texts through hyperlinks. These links are in essence at equal distance from each other. As well as being a technological device, hypertext is also a metaphor to think with. Figuratively speaking, hypertext can be understood as a non-hierarchical and a-centred modality. Hypertext incorporates multiplicity; different pathways are possible simultaneously, as it has “multiple entryways and exits” and it “connects any point to any other point” (Landow 58-61). Feminist theorist Donna Haraway recognised the dynamic character of hypertext: “the metaphor of hypertext insists on making connections as practice.” However, she adds, “the trope does not suggest which connections make sense for which purposes and which patches we might want to follow or avoid.” We can begin to see the value of approaching the Internet from the perspective of hypertext to make an “inquiry into which connections matter, why, and for whom” (128-30). Postcolonial scholar Jaishree K. Odin theorised how hypertextual webs might benefit subjects “living at the borders.” She describes how subaltern subjects, by weaving their own hypertextual path, can express their multivocality and negotiate cultural differences. She connects the figure of hypertext with that of the postcolonial: The hypertextual and the postcolonial are thus part of the changing topology that maps the constantly shifting, interpenetrating, and folding relations that bodies and texts experience in information culture. Both discourses are characterised by multivocality, multilinearity, openendedness, active encounter, and traversal. (599) These conceptions of cyberspace and its hypertextual foundations coalesce with understandings of “in-between”, “third”, and “diaspora media space” as set out by postcolonial theorists such as Bhabha and Brah. Bhabha elaborates on diaspora as a space where different experiences can be articulated: “These ‘in-between’ spaces provide the terrain for elaborating strategies of selfhood—singular or communal—that initiate new signs of identity, and innovative sites of collaboration, and contestation (4). (Dis-)located between the local and the global, Brah adds: “diaspora space is the point at which boundaries of inclusion and exclusion, of belonging and otherness, of ‘us’ and ‘them,’ are contested” (205). As youths who were born in the diaspora have begun to manifest themselves online, digital diasporas have evolved from transnational public spheres to differential hypertexts. First, we describe how transnational public spheres form one dimension of the mediation of diasporic experiences. Subsequently, we focus on diasporic forms of youth branding and hypertext aesthetics to show how digitally mediated practices can go beyond and transgress traditional formations of diasporas as vertically connected to a homeland and horizontally distributed in the creation of transnational public spheres. Digital Diasporas as Diasporic Public Spheres Mass migration and digital mediation have led to a situation where relationships are maintained over large geographical distances, beyond national boundaries. The Internet is used to create transnational imagined audiences formed by dispersed people, which Appadurai describes as “diasporic public spheres”. He observes that, as digital media “increasingly link producers and audiences across national boundaries, and as these audiences themselves start new conversations between those who move and those who stay, we find a growing number of diasporic public spheres” (22). Media and communication researchers have paid a lot of attention to this transnational dimension of the networking of dispersed people (see Brinkerhoff, Alonso and Oiarzabal). We focus here on three examples from three different continents. Most famously, media ethnographers Daniel Miller and Don Slater focused on the Trinidadian diaspora. They describe how “de Rumshop Lime”, a collective online chat room, is used by young people at home and abroad to “lime”, meaning to chat and hang out. Describing the users of the chat, “the webmaster [a Trini living away] proudly proclaimed them to have come from 40 different countries” (though massively dominated by North America) (88). Writing about people in the Greek diaspora, communication researcher Myria Georgiou traced how its mediation evolved from letters, word of mouth, and bulletins to satellite television, telephone, and the Internet (147). From the introduction of the Web, globally dispersed people went online to get in contact with each other. Meanwhile, feminist film scholar Anna Everett draws on the case of Naijanet, the virtual community of “Nigerians Living Abroad”. She shows how Nigerians living in the diaspora from the 1990s onwards connected in global transnational communities, forging “new black public spheres” (35). These studies point at how diasporic people have turned to the Internet to establish and maintain social relations, give and receive support, and share general concerns. Establishing transnational communicative networks allows users to imagine shared audiences of fellow diasporians. Diasporic imagination, however, goes beyond singular notions of this more traditional idea of the transnational public sphere, as it “has nowadays acquired a great figurative flexibility which mostly refers to practices of transgression and hybridisation” (Ponzanesi, “Diasporic Subjects” 208). Below we recognise another dimension of digital diasporas: the articulation of diasporic attachment for branding oneself. Mocro and Nikkei: Diasporic Attachments as a Way to Brand Oneself In this section, we consider how hybrid cultural practices are carried out over geographical distances. Across spaces on the Web, young migrants express new forms of belonging in their dealing with the oppositional motivations of continuity and change. The generational specificity of this experience can be drawn out on the basis of the distinction between “roots” and “routes” made by Paul Gilroy. In his seminal book The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness, Gilroy writes about black populations on both sides of the Atlantic. The double consciousness of migrant subjects is reflected by affiliating roots and routes as part of a complex cultural identification (19 and 190). As two sides of the same coin, roots refer to the stable and continuing elements of identities, while routes refer to disruption and change. Gilroy criticises those who are “more interested in the relationship of identity to roots and rootedness than in seeing identity as a process of movement and mediation which is more appropriately approached via the homonym routes” (19). He stresses the importance of not just focusing on one of either roots or routes but argues for an examination of their interplay. Forming a response to discrimination and exclusion, young migrants in online networks turn to more positive experiences such as identification with one’s heritage inspired by generational specific cultural affiliations. Here, we focus on two examples that cross two continents, showing routed online attachments to “be(com)ing Mocro”, and “be(coming) Nikkei”. Figure 1. “Leipe Mocro Flavour” music video (Ali B) The first example, being and becoming “Mocro”, refers to a local, bi-national consciousness. The term Mocro originated on the streets of the Netherlands during the late 1990s and is now commonly understood as a Dutch honorary nickname for youths with Moroccan roots living in the Netherlands and Belgium. A 2003 song, Leipe mocro flavour (“Crazy Mocro Flavour”) by Moroccan-Dutch rapper Ali B, familiarised a larger group of people with the label (see Figure 1). Ali B’s song is exemplary for a wider community of youngsters who have come to identify themselves as Mocros. One example is the Marokkanen met Brainz – Hyves (Mo), a community page within the Dutch social networking site Hyves. On this page, 2,200 youths who identify as Mocro get together to push against common stereotypes of Moroccan-Dutch boys as troublemakers and thieves and Islamic Moroccan-Dutch girls as veiled carriers of backward traditions (Leurs, forthcoming). Its description reads, “I assume that this Hyves will be the largest [Mocro community]. Because logically Moroccans have brains” (our translation): What can you find here? Discussions about politics, religion, current affairs, history, love and relationships. News about Moroccan/Arabic Parties. And whatever you want to tell others. Use your brains. Second, “Nikkei” directs our attention to Japanese migrants and their descendants. The Discover Nikkei website, set up by the Japanese American National Museum, provides a revealing description of being and becoming Nikkei: As Nikkei communities form in Japan and throughout the world, the process of community formation reveals the ongoing fluidity of Nikkei populations, the evasive nature of Nikkei identity, and the transnational dimensions of their community formations and what it means to be Nikkei. (Japanese American National Museum) This site was set up by the Japanese American National Museum for Nikkei in the global diaspora to connect and share stories. Nikkei youths of course also connect elsewhere. In her ethnographic online study, Shana Aoyama found that the social networking site Hi5 is taken up in Peru by young people of Japanese heritage as an avenue for identity exploration. She found group confirmation based on the performance of Nikkei-ness, as well as expressions of individuality. She writes, “instead of heading in one specific direction, the Internet use of Nikkei creates a starburst shape of identity construction and negotiation” (119). Mocro-ness and Nikkei-ness are common collective identification markers that are not just straightforward nationalisms. They refer back to different homelands, while simultaneously they also clearly mark one’s situation of being routed outside of this homeland. Mocro stems from postcolonial migratory flows from the Global South to the West. Nikkei-ness relates to the interesting case of the Japanese diaspora, which is little accounted for, although there are many Japanese communities present in North and South America from before the Second World War. The context of Peru is revealing, as it was the first South American country to accept Japanese migrants. It now hosts the second largest South American Japanese diaspora after Brazil (Lama), and Peru’s former president, Alberto Fujimoro, is also of Japanese origin. We can see how the importance of the nation-state gets blurred as diasporic youth, through cultural hybridisation of youth culture and ethnic ties, initiates subcultures and offers resistance to mainstream western cultural forms. Digital spaces are used to exert youthful diaspora branding. Networked branding includes expressing cultural identities that are communal and individual but also both local and global, illustrative of how “by virtue of being global the Internet can gift people back their sense of themselves as special and particular” (Miller and Slater 115). In the next section, we set out how youthful diaspora branding is part of a larger, more rhizomatic formation of multivocal hypertext aesthetics. Hypertext Aesthetics In this section, we set out how an in-between, or “liminal”, position, in postcolonial theory terms, can be a source of differential and multivocal cultural production. Appadurai, Bhabha, and Gilroy recognise that liminal positions increasingly leave their mark on the global and local flows of cultural objects, such as food, cinema, music, and fashion. Here, our focus is on how migrant youths turn to hypertextual forms of cultural production for a differential expression of digital diasporas. Hypertexts are textual fields made up of hyperlinks. Odin states that travelling through cyberspace by clicking and forging hypertext links is a form of multivocal digital diaspora aesthetics: The perpetual negotiation of difference that the border subject engages in creates a new space that demands its own aesthetic. This new aesthetic, which I term “hypertext” or “postcolonial,” represents the need to switch from the linear, univocal, closed, authoritative aesthetic involving passive encounters characterising the performance of the same to that of non-linear, multivocal, open, non-hierarchical aesthetic involving active encounters that are marked by repetition of the same with and in difference. (Cited in Landow 356-7) On their profile pages, migrant youth digitally author themselves in distinct ways by linking up to various sites. They craft their personal hypertext. These hypertexts display multivocal diaspora aesthetics which are personal and specific; they display personal intersections of affiliations that are not easily generalisable. In several Dutch-language online spaces, subjects from Dutch-Moroccan backgrounds have taken up the label Mocro as an identity marker. Across social networking sites such as Hyves and Facebook, the term gets included in nicknames and community pages. Think of nicknames such as “My own Mocro styly”, “Mocro-licious”, “Mocro-chick”. The term Mocro itself is often already multilayered, as it is often combined with age, gender, sexual preference, religion, sport, music, and generationally specific cultural affiliations. Furthermore, youths connect to a variety of groups ranging from feminist interests (“Women in Charge”), Dutch nationalism (“I Love Holland”), ethnic affiliations (“The Moroccan Kitchen”) to clothing (the brand H&M), and global junk food (McDonalds). These diverse affiliations—that are advertised online simultaneously—add nuance to the typical, one-dimensional stereotype about migrant youth, integration, and Islam in the context of Europe and Netherlands (Leurs, forthcoming). On the online social networking site Hi5, Nikkei youths in Peru, just like any other teenagers, express their individuality by decorating their personal profile page with texts, audio, photos, and videos. Besides personal information such as age, gender, and school information, Aoyama found that “a starburst” of diverse affiliations is published, including those that signal Japanese-ness such as the Hello Kitty brand, anime videos, Kanji writing, kimonos, and celebrities. Also Nikkei hyperlink to elements that can be identified as “Latino” and “Chino” (Chinese) (104-10). Furthermore, users can show their multiple affiliations by joining different “groups” (after which a hyperlink to the group community appears on the profile page). Aoyama writes “these groups stretch across a large and varied scope of topics, including that of national, racial/ethnic, and cultural identities” (2). These examples illustrate how digital diasporas encompass personalised multivocal hypertexts. With the widely accepted adagio “you are what you link” (Adamic and Adar), hypertextual webs can be understood as productions that reveal how diasporic youths choose to express themselves as individuals through complex sets of non-homogeneous identifications. Migrant youth connects to ethnic origin and global networks in eclectic and creative ways. The concept of “digital diaspora” therefore encapsulates both material and virtual (dis)connections that are identifiable through common traits, strategies, and aesthetics. Yet these hypertextual connections are also highly personalised and unique, offering a testimony to the fluid negotiations and intersections between the local and the global, the rooted and the diasporic. Conclusions In this article, we have argued that migrant youths render digital diasporas more complex by including branding and hypertextual aesthetics in transnational public spheres. Digital diasporas may no longer be understood simply in terms of their vertical relations to a homeland or place of origin or as horizontally connected to a clearly marked transnational community; rather, they must also be seen as engaging in rhizomatic digital practices, which reshuffle traditional understandings of origin and belonging. Contemporary youthful digital diasporas are therefore far more complex in their engagement with digital media than most existing theory allows: connections are hybridised, and affiliations are turned into practices of diasporic branding and becoming. There is a generational specificity to multivocal diaspora aesthetics; this specificity lies in the ways migrant youths show communal recognition and express their individuality through hypertext which combines affiliation to their national/ethnic “roots” with an embrace of other youth subcultures, many of them transnational. These two axes are constantly reshuffled and renegotiated online where, thanks to the technological possibilities of HTML hypertext, a whole range of identities and identifications may be brought together at any given time. We trust that these insights will be of interest in future discussion of online networks, transnational communities, identity formation, and hypertext aesthetics where much urgent and topical work remains to be done. References Adamic, Lada A., and Eytan Adar. “You Are What You Link.” 2001 Tenth International World Wide Web Conference, Hong Kong. 26 Apr. 2010. ‹http://www10.org/program/society/yawyl/YouAreWhatYouLink.htm›. Ali B. “Leipe Mocro Flavour.” ALIB.NL / SPEC Entertainment. 2007. 4 Oct. 2010 ‹http://www3.alib.nl/popupAlibtv.php?catId=42&contentId=544›. Alonso, Andoni, and Pedro J. Oiarzabal. Diasporas in the New Media Age. Reno: U of Nevada P, 2010. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Rev. ed. 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IntroductionThe walking tour is an enduring feature of cities. Fuelled by a desire to learn more about the hidden and unknown spaces of the city, the walking tour has moved beyond its historical role as tourist attraction to play a key role in the transformation of urban space through gentrification. Conversely, the walking tour has a counter-history as part of a critical urban praxis. This article reflects on historical examples, as well as our own experience of conducting Field Trip, a critical geographical walking tour through an industrial precinct in Marrickville, a suburb of Sydney that is set to undergo rapid change as a result of high-rise residential apartment construction (Gibson et al.). This precinct, known as Carrington Road, is located on the unceded land of the Cadigal and Wangal people of the Eora nation who call the area Bulanaming.Drawing on a long history of philosophical walking, many contemporary writers (Solnit; Gros; Bendiner-Viani) have described walking as a practice that can open different ways of thinking, observing and being in the world. Some have focused on the value of walking to the study of place (Hall; Philips; Heddon), and have underscored its relationship to established research methods, such as sensory ethnography (Springgay and Truman). The work of Michel de Certeau pays particular attention to the relationship between walking and the city. In particular, the concepts of tactics and strategy have been applied in a variety of ways across cultural studies, cultural geography, and urban studies (Morris). In line with de Certeau’s thinking, we view walking as an example of a tactic – a routine and often unconscious practice that can become a form of creative resistance.In this sense, walking can be a way to engage in and design the city by opposing its structures, or strategies. For example, walking in a city such as Sydney that is designed for cars requires choosing alternative paths, redirecting flows of people and traffic, and creating custom shortcuts. Choosing pedestrianism in Sydney can certainly feel like a form of resistance, and we make the argument that Field Trip – and walking tours more generally – can be a way of doing this collectively, firstly by moving in opposite directions, and secondly, at incongruent speeds to those for whom the scale and style of strategic urban development is inevitable. How such tactical walking relates to the design of cities, however, is less clear. Walking is a generally described in the literature as an individual act, while the design of cities is, at its best participatory, and always involving multiple stakeholders. This reveals a tension between the practice of walking as a détournement or appropriation of urban space, and its relationship to existing built form. Field Trip, as an example of collective walking, is one such appropriation of urban space – one designed to lead to more democratic decision making around the planning and design of cities. Given the anti-democratic, “post-political” nature of contemporary “consultation” processes, this is a seemingly huge task (Legacy et al.; Ruming). We make the argument that Field Trip – and walking tours more generally – can be a form of collective resistance to top-down urban planning.By using an open-source wiki in combination with the Internet Archive, Field Trip also seeks to collectively document and make public the local knowledge generated by walking at the frontier of gentrification. We discuss these digital choices as oppositional practice, and consider the idea of tactical media (Lovink and Garcia; Raley) in order to connect knowledge sharing with the practice of walking.This article is structured in four parts. Firstly, we provide a historical introduction to the relationship between walking tours and gentrification of global cities. Secondly, we examine the significance of walking tours in Sydney and then specifically within Marrickville. Thirdly, we discuss the Field Trip project as a citizen-led walking tour and, finally, elaborate on its role as tactical media project and offer some conclusions.The Walking Tour and Gentrification From the outset, people have been walking the city in their own ways and creating their own systems of navigation, often in spite of the plans of officialdom. The rapid expansion of cities following the Industrial Revolution led to the emergence of “imaginative geographies”, where mediated representations of different urban conditions became a stand-in for lived experience (Steinbrink 219). The urban walking tour as mediated political tactic was utilised as far back as Victorian England, for reasons including the celebration of public works like the sewer system (Garrett), and the “othering” of the working class through upper- and middle-class “slum tourism” in London’s East End (Steinbrink 220). The influence of the Situationist theory of dérive has been immense upon those interested in walking the city, and we borrow from the dérive a desire to report on the under-reported spaces of the city, and to articulate alternative voices within the city in this project. It should be noted, however, that as Field Trip was developed for general public participation, and was organised with institutional support, some aspects of the dérive – particularly its disregard for formal structure – were unable to be incorporated into the project. Our responsibility to the participants of Field Trip, moreover, required the imposition of structure and timetable upon the walk. However, our individual and collective preparation for Field Trip, as well as our collective understanding of the area to be examined, has been heavily informed by psychogeographic methods that focus on quotidian and informal urban practices (Crosby and Searle; Iveson et al).In post-war American cities, walking tours were utilised in the service of gentrification. Many tours were organised by real estate agents with the express purpose of selling devalorised inner-city real estate to urban “pioneers” for renovation, including in Boston’s South End (Tissot) and Brooklyn’s Park Slope, among others (Lees et al 25). These tours focused on a symbolic revalorisation of “slum neighbourhoods” through a focus on “high culture”, with architectural and design heritage featuring prominently. At the same time, urban socio-economic and cultural issues – poverty, homelessness, income disparity, displacement – were downplayed or overlooked. These tours contributed to a climate in which property speculation and displacement through gentrification practices were normalised. To this day, “ghetto tours” operate in minority neighbourhoods in Brooklyn, serving as a beachhead for gentrification.Elsewhere in the world, walking tours are often voyeuristic, featuring “locals” guiding well-meaning tourists through the neighbourhoods of some of the world’s most impoverished communities. Examples include the long runningKlong Toei Private Tour, through “Bangkok’s oldest and largest slum”, or the now-ceased Jakarta Hidden Tours, which took tourists to the riverbanks of Jakarta to see the city’s poorest before they were displaced by gentrification.More recently, all over the world activists have engaged in walking tours to provide their own perspective on urban change, attempting to direct the gentrifier’s gaze inward. Whilst the most confrontational of these might be the Yuppie Gazing Tour of Vancouver’s historically marginalised Downtown Eastside, other tours have highlighted the deleterious effects of gentrification in Williamsburg, San Francisco, Oakland, and Surabaya, among others. In smaller towns, walking tours have been utilised to highlight the erasure of marginalised scenes and subcultures, including underground creative spaces, migrant enclaves, alternative and queer spaces. Walking Sydney, Walking Marrickville In many cities, there are now both walking tours that intend to scaffold urban renewal, and those that resist gentrification with alternative narratives. There are also some that unwittingly do both simultaneously. Marrickville is a historically working-class and migrant suburb with sizeable populations of Greek and Vietnamese migrants (Graham and Connell), as well as a strong history of manufacturing (Castles et al.), which has been undergoing gentrification for some time, with the arts playing an often contradictory role in its transformation (Gibson and Homan). More recently, as the suburb experiences rampant, financialised property development driven by global flows of capital, property developers have organised their own self-guided walking tours, deployed to facilitate the familiarisation of potential purchasers of dwellings with local amenities and ‘character’ in precincts where redevelopment is set to occur. Mirvac, Marrickville’s most active developer, has designed its own self-guided walking tour Hit the Marrickville Pavement to “explore what’s on offer” and “chat to locals”: just 7km from the CBD, Marrickville is fast becoming one of Sydney’s most iconic suburbs – a melting pot of cuisines, creative arts and characters founded on a rich multicultural heritage.The perfect introduction, this self-guided walking tour explores Marrickville’s historical architecture at a leisurely pace, finishing up at the pub.So, strap on your walking shoes; you're in for a treat.Other walking tours in the area seek to highlight political, ecological, and architectural dimension of Marrickville. For example, Marrickville Maps: Tropical Imaginaries of Abundance provides a series of plant-led walks in the suburb; The Warren Walk is a tour organised by local Australian Labor Party MP Anthony Albanese highlighting “the influence of early settlers such as the Schwebel family on the area’s history” whilst presenting a “political snapshot” of ALP history in the area. The Australian Ugliness, in contrast, was a walking tour organised by Thomas Lee in 2016 that offered an insight into the relationships between the visual amenity of the streetscape, aesthetic judgments of an ambiguous nature, and the discursive and archival potentialities afforded by camera-equipped smartphones and photo-sharing services like Instagram. Figure 1: Thomas Lee points out canals under the street of Marrickville during The Australian Ugliness, 2016.Sydney is a city adept at erasing its past through poorly designed mega-projects like freeways and office towers, and memorialisation of lost landscapes has tended towards the literary (Berry; Mudie). Resistance to redevelopment, however, has often taken the form of spectacular public intervention, in which public knowledge sharing was a key goal. The Green Bans of the 1970s were partially spurred by redevelopment plans for places like the Rocks and Woolloomooloo (Cook; Iveson), while the remaking of Sydney around the 2000 Olympics led to anti-gentrification actions such as SquatSpace and the Tour of Beauty, an “aesthetic activist” tour of sites in the suburbs of Redfern and Waterloo threatened with “revitalisation.” Figure 2: "Tour of Beauty", Redfern-Waterloo 2016. What marks the Tour of Beauty as significant in this context is the participatory nature of knowledge production: participants in the tours were addressed by representatives of the local community – the Aboriginal Housing Company, the local Indigenous Women’s Centre, REDWatch activist group, architects, designers and more. Each speaker presented their perspective on the rapidly gentrifying suburb, demonstrating how urban space is made an remade through processes of contestation. This differentiation is particularly relevant when considering the basis for Sydney-centric walking tours. Mirvac’s self-guided tour focuses on the easy-to-see historical “high culture” of Marrickville, and encourages participants to “chat to locals” at the pub. It is a highly filtered approach that does not consider broader relations of class, race and gender that constitute Marrickville. A more intense exploration of the social fabric of the city – providing a glimpse of the hidden or unknown spaces – uncovers the layers of social, cultural, and economic history that produce urban space, and fosters a deeper engagement with questions of urban socio-spatial justice.Solnit argues that walking can allow us to encounter “new thoughts and possibilities.” To walk, she writes, is to take a “subversive detour… the scenic route through a half-abandoned landscape of ideas and experiences” (13). In this way, tactical activist walking tours aim to make visible what cannot be seen, in a way that considers the polysemic nature of place, and in doing so, they make visible the hidden relations of power that produce the contemporary city. In contrast, developer-led walking tours are singularly focussed, seeking to attract inflows of capital to neighbourhoods undergoing “renewal.” These tours encourage participants to adopt the position of urban voyeur, whilst activist-led walking tours encourage collaboration and participation in urban struggles to protect and preserve the contested spaces of the city. It is in this context that we sought to devise our own walking tour – Field Trip – to encourage active participation in issues of urban renewal.In organising this walking tour, however, we acknowledge our own entanglements within processes of gentrification. As designers, musicians, writers, academics, researchers, venue managers, artists, and activists, in organising Field Trip, we could easily be identified as “creatives”, implicated in Marrickville’s ongoing transformation. All of us have ongoing and deep-rooted connections to various Sydney subcultures – the same subcultures so routinely splashed across developer advertising material. This project was borne out of Frontyard – a community not-just-art space, and has been supported by the local Inner West Council. As such, Field Trip cannot be divorced from the highly contentious processes of redevelopment and gentrification that are always simmering in the background of discussions about Marrickville. We hope, however, that in this project we have started to highlight alternative voices in those redevelopment processes – and that this may contribute towards a “method of equality” for an ongoing democratisation of those processes (Davidson and Iveson).Field Trip: Urban Geographical Enquiry as Activism Given this context, Field Trip was designed as a public knowledge project that would connect local residents, workers, researchers, and decision-makers to share their experiences living and working in various parts of Sydney that are undergoing rapid change. The site of our project – Carrington Road, Marrickville in Sydney’s inner-west – has been earmarked for major redevelopment in coming years and is quickly becoming a flashpoint for the debates that permeate throughout the whole of Sydney: housing affordability, employment accessibility, gentrification and displacement. To date, public engagement and consultation regarding proposed development at Carrington Road has been limited. A major landholder in the area has engaged a consultancy firm to establish a community reference group (CRG) the help guide the project. The CRG arose after public outcry at an original $1.3 billion proposal to build 2,616 units in twenty towers of up to 105m in height (up to thirty-five storeys) in a predominantly low-rise residential suburb. Save Marrickville, a community group created in response to the proposal, has representatives on this reference group, and has endeavoured to make this process public. Ruming (181) has described these forms of consultation as “post-political,” stating thatin a universe of consensual decision-making among diverse interests, spaces for democratic contest and antagonistic politics are downplayed and technocratic policy development is deployed to support market and development outcomes.Given the notable deficit of spaces for democratic contest, Field Trip was devised as a way to reframe the debate outside of State- and developer-led consultation regimes that guide participants towards accepting the supposed inevitability of redevelopment. We invited a number of people affected by the proposed plans to speak during the walking tour at a location of their choosing, to discuss the work they do, the effect that redevelopment would have on their work, and their hopes and plans for the future. The walking tour was advertised publicly and the talks were recorded, edited and released as freely available podcasts. The proposed redevelopment of Carrington Road provided us with a unique opportunity to develop and operate our own walking tour. The linear street created an obvious “circuit” to the tour – up one side of the road, and down the other. We selected speakers based on pre-existing relationships, some formed during prior rounds of research (Gibson et al.). Speakers included a local Aboriginal elder, a representative from the Marrickville Historical Society, two workers (who also gave tours of their workplaces), the Lead Heritage Adviser at Sydney Water, who gave us a tour of the Carrington Road pumping station, and a representative from the Save Marrickville residents’ group. Whilst this provided a number of perspectives on the day, regrettably some groups were unrepresented, most notably the perspective of migrant groups who have a long-standing association with industrial precincts in Marrickville. It is hoped that further community input and collaboration in future iterations of Field Trip will address these issues of representation in community-led walking tours.A number of new understandings became apparent during the walking tour. For instance, the heritage-listed Carrington Road sewage pumping station, which is of “historic and aesthetic significance”, is unable to cope with the proposed level of residential development. According to Philip Bennett, Lead Heritage Adviser at Sydney Water, the best way to maintain this piece of heritage infrastructure is to keep it running. While this issue had been discussed in private meetings between Sydney Water and the developer, there is no formal mechanism to make this expert knowledge public or accessible. Similarly, through the Acknowledgement of Country for Field Trip, undertaken by Donna Ingram, Cultural Representative and a member of the Metropolitan Local Aboriginal Land Council, it became clear that the local Indigenous community had not been consulted in the development proposals for Carrington Road. This information, while not necessary secret, had also not been made public. Finally, the inclusion of knowledgeable local workers whose businesses are located on Carrington Road provided an insight into the “everyday.” They talked of community and collaboration, of site-specificity, the importance of clustering within their niche industries, and their fears for of displacement should redevelopment proceed.Via a community-led, participatory walking tour like Field Trip, threads of knowledge and new information are uncovered. These help create new spatial stories and readings of the landscape, broadening the scope of possibility for democratic participation in cities. Figure 3: Donna Ingram at Field Trip 2018.Tactical Walking, Tactical Media Stories connected to walking provide an opportunity for people to read the landscape differently (Mitchell). One of the goals of Field Trip was to begin a public knowledge exchange about Carrington Road so that spatial stories could be shared, and new readings of urban development could spread beyond the confines of the self-contained tour. Once shared, this knowledge becomes a story, and once remixed into existing stories and integrated into the way we understand the neighbourhood, a collective spatial practice is generated. “Every story is a travel story – a spatial practice”, says de Certeau in “Spatial Stories”. “In reality, they organise walks” (72). As well as taking a tactical approach to walking, we took a tactical approach to the mediation of the knowledge, by recording and broadcasting the voices on the walk and feeding information to a publicly accessible wiki. The term “tactical media” is an extension of de Certeau’s concept of tactics. David Garcia and Geert Lovink applied de Certeau’s concept of tactics to the field of media activism in their manifesto of tactical media, identifying a class of producers who amplify temporary reversals in the flow of power by exploiting the spaces, channels and platforms necessary for their practices. Tactical media has been used since the late nineties to help explain a range of open-source practices that appropriate technological tools for political purposes. While pointing out the many material distinctions between different types of tactical media projects within the arts, Rita Raley describes them as “forms of critical intervention, dissent and resistance” (6). The term has also been adopted by media activists engaged in a range of practices all over the world, including the Tactical Technology Collective. For Field Trip, tactical media is a way of creating representations that help navigate neighbourhoods as well as alternative political processes that shape them. In this sense, tactical representations do not “offer the omniscient point of view we associate with Cartesian cartographic practice” (Raley 2). Rather these representations are politically subjective systems of navigation that make visible hidden information and connect people to the decisions affecting their lives. Conclusion We have shown that the walking tour can be a tourist attraction, a catalyst to the transformation of urban space through gentrification, and an activist intervention into processes of urban renewal that exclude people and alternative ways of being in the city. This article presents practice-led research through the design of Field Trip. By walking collectively, we have focused on tactical ways of opening up participation in the future of neighbourhoods, and more broadly in designing the city. 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