Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Vibrations des assemblages"

Abstract Buzz-pollinated plants require visitation from vibration producing bee species to elicit full pollen release. Several important food crops are buzz-pollinated including tomato, eggplant, kiwi, and blueberry. Although more than half of all bee species can buzz pollinate, the most commonly deployed supplemental pollinator, Apis mellifera L. (Hymenoptera: Apidae; honey bees), cannot produce vibrations to remove pollen. Here, we provide a list of buzz-pollinated food crops and discuss the extent to which they rely on pollination by vibration-producing bees. We then use the most commonly cultivated of these crops, the tomato, Solanum lycopersicum L. (Solanales: Solanaceae), as a case study to investigate the effect of different pollination treatments on aspects of fruit quality. Following a systematic review of the literature, we statistically analyzed 71 experiments from 24 studies across different geopolitical regions and conducted a meta-analysis on a subset of 21 of these experiments. Our results show that both supplemental pollination by buzz-pollinating bees and open pollination by assemblages of bees, which include buzz pollinators, significantly increase tomato fruit weight compared to a no-pollination control. In contrast, auxin treatment, artificial mechanical vibrations, or supplemental pollination by non-buzz-pollinating bees (including Apis spp.), do not significantly increase fruit weight. Finally, we compare strategies for providing bee pollination in tomato cultivation around the globe and highlight how using buzz-pollinating bees might improve tomato yield, particularly in some geographic regions. We conclude that employing native, wild buzz pollinators can deliver important economic benefits with reduced environmental risks and increased advantages for both developed and emerging economies.

A Dynamic Finite Element (DFE) for vibrational analysis of rotating assemblages composed of beams is presented in which the complexity of the acceleration, due to the presence of gyroscopic, or Coriolis forces, is taken into consideration. The dynamic trigonometric shape functions of uncoupled bending and axial vibrations of an axially loaded uniform beam element are derived in an exact sense. Then, exploiting the Principle of Virtual Work together with the nodal approximations of variables, based on these dynamic shape functions, leads to a single frequency dependent stiffness matrix which is Hermitian and represents both mass and stiffness properties. A Wittrick-Williams algorithm, based on a Sturm sequence root counting technique, is then used as the solution method. The application of the theory is demonstrated by two illustrative examples of vertical and radial beams where the influence of Coriolis forces on natural frequencies of the clamped-free rotating beams is demonstrated by numerical results.

Bluetooth-operated sex toys penetrate and are penetrated by the human body, leaving code behind. This article analyzes the relationships that develop between bodies and Bluetooth-operated interactive sex toys. Resembling the pods and portals of David Cronenberg’s film eXistenZ, interactive sex toys allow us to consider how technologies relate intimately to the sexual body. I use Massumi’s work on virtuality and affect theory as a starting point from which to frame embodiment, virtuality, and the circulation of affects. Further, I consider the importance of embodiment and the translations of intensities and vibrations through digital coding among the open sexual body, the technology of the sexual machine, and the applications that foster those connections, in the context of Bluetooth-operated sex toys. This article advocates the need to consider intimate encounters between interactive sex toys and bodies as complex technological and biological assemblages, where vibrating machines and the human body’s flesh come into intimate connection through datafication.

AbstractThis study presents the first documented observations of a brachyuran crab's proactive fishing behaviour in conjunction with mangrove pneumatophores which are employed as prey-localization devices. All ecological data were recorded in situ using simple behavioural observations, visual census and field experiments. Field experiments were based on stimulus-response and ecological surveys on random displacement. Assemblages of Metopograpsus messor were observed daily performing a foraging/predatory tide-related cyclic behaviour pattern in an arid mangrove ecosystem which experiences challenging environmental conditions. Prey-localizing behaviour was observed during the flood tide when pneumatophore-borne vibrations were used to identify potential prey. The prey simulation field experiment (where a single pneumatophore was stimulated by knocking) showed that in >93% of instances a crab approached the exact pneumatophore being stimulated. As water levels increased during the tidal cycle M. messor was observed climbing pneumatophores. The crabs anchored themselves to the pneumatophore just above the water level with their pereiopods. The chelipeds were positioned in a pincher-like trap, and remained in a ‘capture-position’ waiting for prey to move within striking range. This characteristic fishing behaviour was performed daily by a population of M. messor. Ecological observations suggest that both these predatory behaviours are associated with the fish Aphanius dispar dispar in a direct prey–predator relation. Evidence suggests that these fishing behaviours evolved due to characteristics within the M. messor phylogeny (foraging in intertidal zones; daily displacement following tidal levels; high sensitivity to vibrations; and an opportunist diet) and its associated environment (presence of pneumatophores and high availability of a fish resource).

Clearance exists in the joint of a mechanism because of the assemblage, manufacturing tolerances, wear, and other conditions, and it is a focus of research in the field of multibody dynamics. This study built a planar hydraulic rock-breaker model with multiple joint clearances by combining the hydraulic cylinder model, the clearance joints based on the Lankarani–Nikravesh contact force model, and the Lagrange multiplier method. Dynamic simulation results indicated that multiple clearance joints can degrade the dynamic responses of a rock-breaker model, which can be decomposed to rapid vibrations and slow movements. The rapid vibrations are excited by coupling the spring-mass system of hydraulic cylinder and clearances. The effects of the clearance size, input force, damping coefficient, and friction on the dynamic behaviour of the rock-breaker mechanism are also investigated. The friction could reduce the rapid vibration state significantly, which is feasible for practical engineering applications. As compared with the traditional models without clearances, the present model provides not only better predictions for the theoretical study of the hydraulic rock-breaker but also useful guidance for reducing the vibrations of the hydraulic rock-breaker in practical engineering applications.

What do we hear in a human voice that vibrates through electrical flows? In this paper I argue for listening (and vocalizing) beyond the human in performances with audio media. I propose understanding such performance practice as engaging with what I call plasmatic voice, a phenomenon distinct from the merely additive, prosthetic conception of voice + electricity. Instead, plasmatic voice functions as instances of queer assemblage stretching to reach the radically Other that constitutes ourselves—facilitating the sense of what Alaimo (2010) terms transcorporeality, an understanding of human embodiment as “intermeshed with the more-than-human world” (2). The vibrations of plasmatic voice—as an example of Eidsheim’s (2015) intermaterial vibrational practice—loosen (post)human social constructs of race and gender and reverberate with nonhuman ecosystems, as I illustrate through analysis of musical examples.

AbstractMicro-inclusions (1 –10 μm) in 55 diamonds of cubic habit from the Udachnaya kimberlite pipe have been studied using vibrational spectroscopy. This has revealed a multiphase assemblage in cuboid diamonds from the Udachnaya kimberlite pipe. This assemblage includes carbonates, olivine, apatite, graphite, water and silicate glasses. The micro-inclusions preserve the high internal pressure and give confidence that the original materials were trapped during growth of the host diamond. The internal pressures, extrapolated to mantle temperatures, lie within the stability field of diamond and the relatively low temperatures are typical for the formation of cuboid diamonds. In contrast to previously reported data for African diamonds, the micro-inclusions in the cuboids from Udachnaya are extremely carbonatitic in composition (H2O/(H2O+CO2) ≈5 –20%) with the observed assemblage of microinclusions similar to some types of carbonatites. The low water and silica content testify that the material in the micro-inclusions of the Udachnaya diamonds was near-solidus carbonatitic melt. Vibrational spectroscopy has provided the evidence of carbonatitic melts in cuboid diamonds.

This text analyzes the process of composing and improvising the musical experiment Flow Vertical. This artistic exploration for chamber orchestra responds to a theory of biosignals, incorporating a putative sonic mapping of “inaudible” sound vibration of the author’s biofield as understood to be measured by an SCIO device. The interpretation and represent ation of measured frequencies influenced the creation of an “assemblage,” the system of interconnected human and nonhuman agents within the piece. The artist applied an original eight-week-long method of creation, investigating how this idea of body vibration and a specific yogic routine could aesthetically affect music.

Reflectance spectroscopy allows cost-effective and rapid mineral characterisation, addressing mineral exploration and mining challenges. Shortwave (SWIR), mid (MIR) and thermal (TIR) infrared reflectance spectra are collected in a wide range of environments and scales, with instrumentation ranging from spaceborne, airborne, field and drill core sensors to IR microscopy. However, interpretation of reflectance spectra is, due to the abundance of potential vibrational modes in mineral assemblages, non-trivial and requires a thorough understanding of the potential factors contributing to the reflectance spectra. In order to close the gap between understanding mineral-diagnostic absorption features and efficient interpretation of reflectance spectra, an up-to-date overview of major vibrational modes of rock-forming minerals in the SWIR, MIR and TIR is provided. A series of scripts are proposed that allow the extraction of the relative intensity or wavelength position of single absorption and other mineral-diagnostic features. Binary discrimination diagrams can assist in rapidly evaluating mineral assemblages, and relative abundance and chemical composition of key vector minerals, in hydrothermal ore deposits. The aim of this contribution is to make geologically relevant information more easily extractable from reflectance spectra, enabling the mineral resources and geoscience communities to realise the full potential of hyperspectral sensing technologies.

Vibration analysis of steel truss bridge is required by promotion in the speed of train. The train and the truss girder bridge are coupled together as one composite system. Truss girder bridge is idealized as an assemblage of finite truss element. The vehicle space vibration model of two-stage suspension is used, which has 26-degrees of freedom. The equations of the train and truss girder bridges time varying system are set up by using the principle of total potential energy with stationary value in elastic system dynamics and the“set-in-right-position”rule for forming structural matrices. This method is more convenient than the finite elements. The vibration responses of train and bridge are calculated when the trains pass through a truss girder bridge at different speeds. The results show that the bridge has sufficient lateral and vertical stiffness.

In the article, the author discusses a new cultural phenomenon known as ASMR in a posthuman perspective, especially from the perspective of new materialism (Karen Barad), studies of things (Bjørnar Olsen, Ewa Domańska) and affective studies (Jane Bennett, Sara Ahmed). The article analyzes selected ASMR videos published on the YouTube website in terms of the affectivity of the objects used in them, arguing that ASMR cultural practices encourage the production of human-non-human assemblages of subjects and objects built of “vibrating matter” (Jane Bennett).

Active vibration control of tensegrity structures is often challenging due to the geometrical nonlinearity, assemblage uncertainties of connections, and actuator saturation of controllers. To tackle these technical difficulties, a fast model predictive control (FMPC) strategy is herein implemented to effectively mitigate the structural vibration. Specifically, based on the explicit expression form of the Newmark- β method, the computation of the matrix exponential is avoided and replaced by one online and two offline transient analyses at each sampling instant on the structure, and the optimal control input is attainted from the second-order dynamic equation without forming an expanded state-space equation. Meanwhile, the artificial fish swarm algorithm (AFSA) is embedded to automatically derive optimal arrangement of actuators with the selection of a reasonable objective function. Two illustrative examples, including two standard and clustered tensegrity beams and a clustered tensegrity tower, have been fully investigated. The outcomes from illustrative examples prove the effectiveness and feasibility of the proposed method in optimal active vibration control of tensegrity structures, implying a promising prospect of the investigated approach in analyzing and solving relevant engineering problems.

A numerical model for the prediction of vibration behaviors of a laminated submarine structure consisting of spherical, cylindrical, and cone shells with multiple built-in annular plates is reported in this article. With the aid of the first-order shear deformation theory (FSDT) concerning plates and shells, the energy expressions of each substructure are derived. The displacement functions in the energy functionals are expanded by the employment of Legendre orthogonal polynomials and circumferential Fourier series. Then, the Rayleigh–Ritz procedure is performed to obtain the eigenfrequency and the corresponding eigenmode of the submarine model. The correctness of the structural model is examined by comparing the results with existing papers and the finite element method, and the maximum deviation is not more than 2.07%. Additionally, the influence of the plate’s thickness, position, inner diameter, as well as the laying angle on the intrinsic vibration characteristics of laminated submarine-like structure is determined. The results reveal that rational geometry design and assemblage benefit the vibration performance of the combination. Increasing the thickness of all the annular plates, decreasing the inner radius, and regulating the laminated scheme, make remarkable influence on structural free vibration, with the maximum relative changing rate of frequency exceeding 97%, 16%, and 23%, respectively.

Abstract The apatite assemblage from Maglovec hill (Slanské vrchy Mountains near the city of Prešov) from fissures of hydrothermally altered neovolcanic rocks (andesites and related lithologies) was studied. The assemblage consists of two different morphological apatite types (apatite in cores of prismatic crystals and fibrous apatite mantling these cores). The assemblage was investigated by a multi-analytical approach to reveal its unique chemical composition and structure. Both types of apatite display zoning visible in back-scattered electron (BSE) images. Core apatite is relatively homogenous with porous rims appearing darker in the BSE images at the contact with fibrous apatite, and occasionally with darker regions along fractures. These parts are depleted in trace elements, mostly in LREE. Fibrous apatites display concentric and/or patchy zoning. Dark regions in fibrous apatite occasionally display a porous structure. In part of fibrous crystals, substitution of (CO3)2− for phosphorus is confirmed by Raman spectroscopy by the presence of a band at ~ 1071 cm−1. This method also confirmed the presence of OH in different populations in the structure of all apatite types. The three most important observed peaks are caused by vibrations of hydroxyls influenced by different adjacent anions: hydroxyl (band at ~ 3575 cm−1); fluorine (band at ~ 3535–3540 cm−1); chlorine (band at ~ 3494 cm−1). In REE-depleted parts of both apatite types, fine inclusions of monazite and rarely Th-rich silicate are observed. The acquired data suggest a hydrothermal origin of this assemblage and indicate a formation sequence of distinct apatite types. Moreover, minerals from the epidote group were identified, which have not been described from this locality before as well as vanadium-rich magnetites that form exsolution lamellae in ilmenite grains.

The train and the continuous truss girder bridge are coupled together as one composite system. Truss girder bridge is idealized as an assemblage of finite truss element. The equations of the train and truss girder bridges time varying system are set up by using the principle of total potential energy with stationary value in elastic system dynamics and the“set-in-right-position”rule for forming structural matrices. This method is more convenient than the finite elements. The vibration responses of the train and bridge are calculated when the the passenger trains pass through a continuous truss girder bridge at speeds of 90km/h and 120km/h The results show that the passenger train can pass it safely and comfortably

The limitations of the current generation of robotic systems has triggered a new research thrust for predicting the elastodynamic response of assemblages of articulating flexible-bodied systems. This research thrust is extended herein by proposing the fabrication of robotic systems in either monolithic or ultra-advanced composite laminated high-strength, high-stiffness materials in which are incorporated electro-rheological fluids. These multiphase fluid systems, which change their rheological behavior instantaneously when subjected to an externally applied electrical field, provide a potential for tailoring the vibrational characteristics of these hybrid materials from which the structural members of the proposed robotic systems are fabricated. This paper is focused on developing the necessary design tools for predicting the vibrational response of flexible multibodied articulating systems fabricated with this new class of advanced materials. A variational theorem is developed herein as a basis for finite element formulations which can be employed to predict the elastodynamic response of these systems. A coherent combination of experimental and theoretical work on cantilevered beams is presented to demonstrate the viability of the proposed design methodology. In addition, computer simulation results are presented to demonstrate the potential payoffs in terms of superior performance characteristics of a new generation of robotic systems capitalizing on this innovative and revolutionary design philosophy.

In the last 15 years, zeolite-like mayenite, Ca12Al14O33, has attracted significant attention in material science for its variety of potential applications and for its simple composition. Hydrogen plays a key role in processes of electride material synthesis from pristine mayenite: {Ca12Al14O32}2+(O2) → {Ca12Al14O32}2+(e−)2. A presence of molecular hydrogen in synthetic mayenite was not confirmed by the direct methods. Spectroscopy investigations of mayenite group mineral fluorkyuygenite, with empirical formula (Ca12.09Na0.03)∑12.12(Al13.67Si0.12Fe3+0.07Ti4+0.01)∑12.87O31.96 [F2.02Cl0.02(H2O)3.22(H2S)0.15□0.59]∑6.00, show the presence of an unusual band at 4038 cm−1, registered for the first time and related to molecular hydrogen, apart from usual bands responding to vibrations of mayenite framework. The band at 4038 cm−1 corresponding to stretching vibrations of H2 is at lower frequencies in comparison with positions of analogous bands of gaseous H2 (4156 cm−1) and H2 adsorbed at active cation sites of zeolites (4050–4100 cm−1). This points out relatively strong linking of molecular hydrogen with the fluorkyuygenite framework. An appearance of H2 in the fluorkyuyginite with ideal formula Ca12Al14O32[(H2O)4F2], which formed after fluormayenite, Ca12Al14O32[□4F2], is connected with its genesis. Fluorkyuygenite was detected in gehlenite fragments within brecciaed pyrometamorphic rock (Hatrurim Basin, Negev Desert, Israel), which contains reduced mineral assemblage of the Fe-P-C system (native iron, schreibersite, barringerite, murashkoite, and cohenite). The origin of phosphide-bearing associations is connected with the effect of highly reduced gases on earlier formed pyrometamorphic rocks.

Motorized spindle is high speed machining unit combined with hidden motor and machine tools axis, which has advantages of high speed, stepless transmission, zero transmission chain, and is applied in machine center widely. Key technologies are combined together in motorized spindle designing, such as high speed motor, bearing, manufacturing and assemblage. It is strict in assembling to guarantee rotating precision and dynamic balance and is different from common machine tools designing due to characters of high speed and hidden motor. Hydrostatic bearings have advantages of high carrying capacity, lower friction, and better holding precision, the heat problem is extrusive, but the future of hydrostatic motorized spindle is considerable. Modal and thermal performance analyses are necessary for motorized spindle designing. With modal analysis, inherent frequencies are confirmed, which could be of help to avoid sympathetic vibration in machining. It provides evidence for designing cooling system of thermal performance analysis.

At 11h58m of Sept. 1, 1923, the coastal area of the south Kanto District, including big cities such as Tokyo, Yokohama, Kamakura and Atami, was violently shaken by a big shock. Disastrous vibrations continued for a couple of minutes. Immediately after the earthquake, fires arose at 163 points in Tokyo and about 3,800 ha were burnt to ashes. About 316,000 houses, 70% of all the houses in Tokyo, vanished in the fires. In Yokohama, fires arose at about 60 points and burnt about 950 ha and 60,000 houses, that is, 60% were destroyed by fires. Sum of the dead and the missing was 142,807, about 80-90% of whom were killed by fires. The most tragic event took place in the Hihukusho-yard (6 ha), which is located in downtown Tokyo. Many people who escaped from fires and other injuries gathered in this place with the minimum of personal property necessary for daily life. Fire was started on this meager assemblage and finally, 44,030 persons – almost all who gathered there – were burnt to death.

In the contemporary landscape of industrial manufacturing, the concept of computer numerical control (CNC) has emerged due to the optimization of conventional machinery, distinguished by its remarkable precision and expeditious processing capabilities. These inherent advantages have seamlessly paved the way for the pervasive integration of CNC machines across a myriad of industrial manufacturing sectors. The present study embarks upon a comprehensive inquiry, delving into the intricate analysis of a specialized prototype CNC molding machine, encompassing a meticulous assessment of its structural rigidity, robustness, and propensity for vibrational occurrences. Moreover, an insightful exploration is undertaken to discern the intricate interplay between vibrational signals and intricate machining processes, particularly under diverse conditions such as the presence or absence of the cutting tool, and at varying rotational speeds denoted in revolutions per minute (RPM). The trajectory of this research voyage encompasses an extensive array of empirical experiments meticulously conducted on the prototype CNC machine, with synchronous real-time acquisition of vibrational data. This empirical journey starts by generating two distinct datasets, each meticulously designed to encompass an assemblage of seven distinct rotational speeds, spanning the spectrum from 18000 to 30000 RPM, thereby facilitating enhanced diversity within the dataset. In parallel, a secondary dataset is meticulously derived from the CNC machine operating in the absence of the cutting tool, thereby encapsulating an exhaustive range of 20 discrete RPM values. The extraction of pivotal features aimed at discerning between the vibrational signals arising from distinct conditions (i.e., those emanating from situations involving the presence or absence of the cutting tool) and the associated variance in CNC machine speeds is facilitated through an innovative framework grounded in co-occurrence matrices. The culmination of this methodological framework is the identification of discernible co-occurrence matrices, thereby facilitating the subsequent computation of Heralick features. The classification effort was performed systematically using 10-fold cross-validation analysis, covering a number of different machine learning models. The outcomes emanating from this intricate sequence of systematic methodologies underscore remarkable achievements. Specifically, the classification of vibrational signals corresponding to varying CNC machine speeds, contingent upon the presence or absence of the cutting tool, yields commendable accuracy rates of 94.27% and 94.16%, respectively. Notably, an exemplary accuracy rate of 100% is attained when classifying differing conditions (i.e., situations involving the presence or absence of the cutting tool) across specific RPM settings, prominently at 22000  24000  26000  28000  and 30000 RPM. 

A numerical approach for computing the eigenvalues and eigenfunctions of an axisymmetric shell with a nonaxisymmetric edge constraint is presented. The shell structures are modeled without constraint by an assemblage of axisymmetric shell elements. The constraint at any point along the edge circumference may be imposed by two linear springs acting against the axial and the radial degrees of freedom, and by a torque spring acting against the rotational degree of freedom. The nonuniform constraint is thus represented by the arbitrary distribution of these spring constants per unit length along the circumference. This arbitrary distribution of spring constants is then resolved by a Fourier series expansion. Utilizing the natural modes of the unconstrained shell as the generalized coordinates, the equations of motion which include the effects of a nonuniform constraint are derived. The mass and the stiffness matrices of these equations of motion are used as inputs for solving the linear numerical eigenvalue problem. A circular plate, which can be considered as an extreme case of an axisymmetric shell, is used as a numerical example. For a simply supported circular plate with a sinusoidal variation of rotational edge constraint, the computed results agree well with the data available in the literature.

The membrane glycerolipids of four phototrophs that were isolated from an edaphic assemblage were determined by UPLC–MS after cultivation in a laboratory growth chamber. Identification was carried out by 18S and 16S rDNA sequencing. The algal species were Klebsormidium flaccidum (Charophyta), Oocystis sp. (Chlorophyta), and Haslea spicula (Bacillariophyta), and the cyanobacterium was Microcoleus vaginatus (Cyanobacteria). The glycerolipid profile of Oocystis sp. was dominated by monogalactosyldiacylglycerol (MGDG) species, with MGDG(18:3/16:4) accounting for 68.6%, whereas MGDG(18:3/16:3) was the most abundant glycerolipid in K. flaccidum (50.1%). A ratio of digalactosyldiacylglycerol (DGDG) species to MGDG species (DGDG/MGDG) was shown to be higher in K. flaccidum (0.26) than in Oocystis sp. (0.14). This ratio increased under high light (HL) as compared to low light (LL) in all the organisms, with its highest value being shown in cyanobacterium (0.38–0.58, LL−HL). High contents of eicosapentaenoic acid (EPA, C20:5) and hexadecenoic acid were observed in the glycerolipids of H. spicula. Similar Fourier transform infrared (FTIR) and Raman spectra were found for K. flaccidum and Oocystis sp. Specific bands at 1629.06 and 1582.78 cm−1 were shown by M. vaginatus in the Raman spectra. Conversely, specific bands in the FTIR spectrum were observed for H. spicula at 1143 and 1744 cm−1. The results of this study point out differences in the membrane lipid composition between species, which likely reflects their different morphology and evolutionary patterns.

Multistep kinetic processes play a key role in physics (excitation transfer, energy degradation), chemistry (ligand–receptor assembly, radical reactions) and biology (signal perception, molecular recognition). While a phenomenological thermodynamic approach for modeling the elementary acts of transitions underlying the maintaining of a system's stationary and equilibrium states is now well recognized, a more satisfying microscopic description based on the consistent understanding of dissipation and fluctuation processes accompanying the multistep relaxations remains elusive. In this paper, a microscopic theory of kinetics of a few-state system exhibited the energy fluctuations and coupled to a condensed medium is developed. The theory is formulated such as of being an example of the case of irreversible multistep ligand–receptor assembly in a dissipating environment. We first derive general expression for the probability of transitions between the system states valid on the whole timescale and then reduce this expression to the effectively slow times by making it an average over both the steady-state fluctuations of a system's energies and the equilibrium vibrations of the environment. Further, we calculate the populations of states for the sequence of cases of the three-to-two-to-single-step assemblage in dependence on the temperature, viscosity and ligand concentration. Finally, we discuss the results obtained with reference to the case of "negative" cooperativity emerging by virtue of the irreversibility of the last kinetic step.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to investigate the effect of joint clearance on the behavior of a needle driver mechanism (a slider-crank linkage) of a typical sewing machine with an imperfect joint between the coupler and the slider (including needle). Design/methodology/approach In order to model the clearance, the momentum exchange approach is used. The Lankarani and Nikravesh’s continuous contact force model is used to model the contact force, and the modified Coulomb’s friction law represents the friction between sliding members. The penetration force applied on the needle by fabric is chosen based on an experimental data in the literature. The dynamic response is validated for the existing properties in the literature without considering the penetration force. Findings It is shown that the clearance joint made considerable effect on the dynamic response of the system. The rough changes of the needle acceleration and jerk are obvious. The base reaction force changed roughly and did not vary as smooth as that of the mechanism with ideal joint. So, clearance joint in the mechanism could lead to an undesirable vibration in the system. Furthermore, the crank driver must provide a non-smooth moment on the crank to keep the crank rotational velocity constant. Moreover, reducing the clearance size sufficiently could make the dynamic response closer to that of the mechanism with ideal joint. In addition, smoother crank moment could be required if the clearance size is reduced sufficiently. Furthermore, the rough change of the base reaction force which can represent the vibration caused by the mechanism on the fixed frame could be reduced if the clearance size is small enough. Originality/value Lockstitch sewing machine is one of the most common apparel industrial machines. The needle driver mechanism of a sewing machine could have an important role for proper stitch forming. On the other hand, clearances are inevitable in assemblage of mechanisms to allow the relative motion between the members. This clearance is due to machining tolerances, wear, material deformations, and imperfections, and it can worsen mechanism performance such as precision, dynamic behavior and vibration. Unfortunately, despite the importance of the dynamic behavior of the needle driver mechanism from practical point of view, very little publications have focused especially on the investigation of the effect of clearance joint on the dynamic behavior of the sewing machine which could lead to undesired vibration of the system and shorter lifetime as a result. In this paper, the dynamic behavior of the system including, needle velocity and acceleration, crank moment and base reaction force was compared with that of the ideal mechanism. Finally, the effect of clearance size on the dynamic behavior of the system was investigated.

Vibrational spectroscopy was applied to study cylindrical engraved bone boxes from the Chalcolithic settlement of Vila Nova de São Pedro (VNSP, Azambuja, Portugal) which has the largest and richest artefact assemblage of Copper Age Western Iberia. The objectives were to reconstitute manufacturing techniques, determine the role of pyrotechnology in the production of cylindrical engraved bone boxes and assess oxygen conditions during burning. Four fragments of cylindrical engraved bone “boxes” from VNSP were used in this research. Anaerobic experimental burn conditions were recreated by using a home-made steel airtight chamber under vacuum. Human bone fragments were burnt at 400–1000 °C for 120–211 min. Fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy analyses were performed on bone powder samples. The resulting spectra and chemometric indices were used as a reference to establish comparisons with the archaeological artefacts. None of these presented spectral features compatible with anaerobic burning. Therefore, aerobic burns were used to achieve the whitish look and were most probably used to attain the darker shade displayed by the artefacts. Artefact manufacturing appears to have relied on bone cutting, bone engraving and maybe polishing, followed by heat treatment. The population from VNSP appears to have been highly specialized in the use of fire to work different raw materials.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to explore the sonic vibrations, infectious rhythms and alternative frequencies that are often unheard and overlooked within mainstream educational spaces, that is, perceptually coded out of legibility by those who read/see/hear the world through “whiteness.” Design/methodology/approach “Plugging into” (Jackson and Mazzei, 2012) posthuman theories of affect (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987; Henriques, 2010) and assemblage (Weheliye, 2014), the author argues that “literate bodies,” along with all forms of matter, continually vibrate, move, swell and rebel (Deleuze, 1990), creating momentum that is often difficult not to get tangled up in. Findings This paper maps out how a specific sociohistorical concept of sound works to affectively orient bodies and impact student becomings, namely, by producing students as un/successful readers and in/human subjects. At the same time, the author attends to the subtle ways by which first graders rebelliously move (d) with alternative sonic frequencies to resist/disrupt mandated literacy curricula and white, patriarchal ways of knowing, being and doing. Originality/value This paper highlights the political nature of sound and how, within mainstream educational spaces, certain sonic frequencies become coded out of white supremacist models for knowledge transmission, which re/produce racialized (gendered, classist, etc.) habits and practices of listening/hearing. Literacy educators are invited to “(re)hear” the social in more just ways (James, 2020) by sensing the affects and effects of more-than-human “sonic bodies” (Henriques, 2011), which redirect us to alternative rhythms, rationalities, habits and practices that challenge normative conceptions of what counts as literacy and who counts as successfully literate.

In the late 1960s, Chilean media artist Juan Downey constructed a series of electronic sculptures that aimed to render their invisible electromagnetic environment perceptible for spectators. Designed to transform radar waves or cosmic background radiation into light, sound, and mechanical vibration through sensors and transmitters, these sculptures allow us to rethink the relation between energy and the dematerializing logic of the cybernetic paradigm that has come to dominate the existing scholarship on conceptual and media arts. The existing scholarship of Downey’s electronic sculptures frames them as realizing contemporary theories of cybernetic communication and feedback: facilitating participation among bodies and technologies to generate an informational assemblage. This article, however, asserts that the deployment of the cybernetic paradigm of information in this art historical scholarship inadvertently reproduces cybernetics’ historical de-emphasis of material and energetic specificity, and thus fails to account for those insights that emerge from Downey’s unique attention to the concrete reality of electromagnetism and its interactions with human perceptual experience and technical media. In this article I argue that the electronic sculptures invoke specific frequencies of the electromagnetic field, not to dematerialize them into flows of information, but to foreground their challenging materiality and reveal the limits of our organic and technological modes of access to a vast and elusive yet animating energetic environment. My objective is to open up Downey’s early practice to new concerns outside the cybernetic frame, with a special focus on his contributions to the link between art history and the energy humanities.

Abstract. Niasite (IMA2019-105) and johanngeorgenstadtite (IMA2019-122) are Ni4.52+(AsO4)3 dimorphs from Johanngeorgenstadt, Saxony, Germany. The two new minerals occur in association with one another and with aerugite, bunsenite, quartz, rooseveltite and xanthiosite. This mineral assemblage is apparently secondary in origin and most likely formed from the breakdown of primary nickeline under dry (low relative humidity) and oxidizing (high oxygen fugacity) conditions. Both minerals are found in sugary aggregates of irregular, rounded grains or short prisms. Niasite properties are as follows: colour violet-red to red-orange; streak pale pink; transparent; resinous to subadamantine lustre; brittle tenacity; no cleavage; conchoidal fracture; Mohs hardness ∼4; densitycalc 5.222 g cm−3; optically uniaxial (–), ω 1.925(5) and ε 1.855(5) (white light), pleochroism O beige, E deep pink (O<E). Johanngeorgenstadtite properties are as follows: colour pink-orange; streak pale pink; transparent; resinous to subadamantine lustre; brittle tenacity; {010}, {110} and {1−10} cleavage; curved and stepped fracture; Mohs hardness ∼5; densitycalc 4.801 g cm−3; optically biaxial (–), α 1.83(1), β 1.86(1), γ 1.88(1) (white light), 2Vmeas 78(1)∘, pleochroism X violet, Y light olive, Z yellow (X>Y>Z). Raman spectra of both minerals are dominated by the stretching vibrations of AsO4 tetrahedra and confirm that both minerals are anhydrous. Electron microprobe analyses give the empirical formulas (Ni3.692+Co0.662+Fe0.032+Al0.02Na0.02Cu0.012+)Σ4.43As3.03O12 and (Ni3.562+Co0.752+Cu0.132+)Σ4.44As3.02O12 for niasite and johanngeorgenstadtite, respectively. Niasite is tetragonal, I4¯2d, with a=6.8046(8), c=18.6190(13) Å, V=862.1(2) Å3 and Z=4. Johanngeorgenstadtite is monoclinic, C2∕c, with a=11.933(3), b=12.753(3), c=6.6956(17) Å, β=113.302(8)∘, V=935.9(4) Å3 and Z=4. The structure of niasite (R1=0.0226 for 471 Io>2σI reflections) is the same as that of jeffbenite, as well as those of several garnet-like synthetic phases. Johanngeorgenstadtite (R1=0.0375 for 355 Io>2σI reflections) has an unprotonated alluaudite structure.

Abstract For this study, the rare Cu-bearing silicate fumarolic assemblages from the Somma–Vesuvius volcano, Italy, characterised by the rare mineral litidionite, CuKNaSi4O10, were investigated. We report new data about Cu- and Ti-bearing phases found in these mineralisations, in which Ti-bearing litidionite occurs together with kamenevite, perovskite and rutile. Ti-bearing litidionite appears on the latest stages of partial crystallisation of Ti-bearing silica glass. Incorporation of Ti4+ into the litidionite crystal structure was investigated in detail. The Raman spectra of Ti-bearing litidionite contains an intense band at 597 cm−1 related to anti-symmetric bending vibrations of Si‒O bonds or overlapping stretching vibrations of Ti‒O bonds. The bands in the range 350‒500 cm−1 correspond to symmetric bending vibrations of O‒Si‒O bonds and overlapping stretching vibrations of Ti‒O bonds. The crystal structure of Ti-litidionite has been refined in the P $\bar{1}$ space group, a = 6.9699(7), b = 7.9953(10), c = 9.8227(10) Å, α = 105.186(9), β = 99.458(8) and γ = 114.489(10) to R1 = 0.064 for 1726 unique observed reflections. The refinement of the site-occupation factors confirmed the presence of Ti at a five-coordinated M site. The mean bond distance of 2.125 Å for the M site agrees with its refined occupancy (Ti0.32Cu0.30Ca0.29Fe0.09)1.00. The incorporation of Ti into the litidionite structure is accompanied by the complex heteropolyhedral substitution according to the scheme VTi4+ + VII–VIII□ + IVAl3+ ↔ VCu2+ + VII-VIII(Na,K)+ + IVSi4+. Two possible configurations for the phase with maximal TiO2 content (12.06 wt.% or 0.56 Ti apfu) CuTiK□Na2Si7AlO20 (Z = 1) or CuTiK2Na□Si7AlO20 (Z = 1) have been proposed.

This paper studies the dispersion of elastic waves in isotropic media discretized by the finite element method. The element stiffness matrix is split into basic and higher order components which are respectively related to the mean and deviatoric components of the element strain field. This decomposition is applied to the elastic energy of the finite element assemblage. By a dispersion analysis the higher order elastic energy is related to the elastic energy error for the propagating waves. An averaged correlation is proposed and successfully tested as an error indicator for finite element vibration eigenmodes.

Abstract Particle dampers that use soft/hard particles are attracting attention as a solution to problems such as oil leakage of oil dampers and the temperature dependence of their characteristics. Particle dampers effectively attenuate vibration using the friction and inelastic normal collisions generated between particles or between particles and walls. Here, the effects of the packing fraction of particles, the vibration frequency, and hardness of the material on the damper force characteristics of a separated dual-chamber single-rod type damper with elastomer particle assemblages were investigated experimentally. The maximal damper force and its hysteresis increased with the packing fraction, the vibration frequency, and the Young's modulus of the particle material. Numerical simulations using the discrete element method were performed to confirm the behavior of the elastomer particles when they were packed in both chambers. The compressive force distribution and velocity vector diagram of particles in the simulations showed that friction and compression between particles due to particle movement, friction between particles and the chamber walls, and the viscosity of the elastomer particles caused a large hysteresis in the damper force. The maximum damper force is affected by the viscoelastic component force and the friction force in the same proportion, and the hysteresis is dominated by the friction force. The simulation results were confirmed to be in good agreement, both qualitatively and quantitatively, with the experimentally measured damper force characteristics.

Abstract A wave-based model that incorporates the effects of shear deformation, rotary inertia and elastic coupling due to structural anisotropy, is developed to analyze the free vibrations of elastically restrained laminated planar frames. In this work, a generalized frame structure is represented as an assemblage of laminated beam segments that act as one-dimensional waveguides. The segments are assumed to undergo only in-plane motion, which upon applying Hamilton's principle, is described by a sixth order coupled differential equation. Dispersion analysis is conducted and the nature of the wavefields associated with the propagation matrix is discussed. Generally restrained boundaries and internal joints are considered, and the associated reflection and transmission matrices are derived. Using the principle of wave-train closure, a closed-form characteristic equation is obtained by systematically assembling the propagation, reflection and transmission matrices. The wave-based model is inherently deterministic, and solving the characteristic equation offers the advantage of determining the exact natural frequencies using conventional root finding algorithms. Application of the proposed model is demonstrated by analyzing an elastically restrained inclined laminated portal frame. Extensive computational analysis is conducted to illustrate the influence of stacking sequence, frame angle, relative frame length, orthotropicity ratios and spring stiffness on the exact natural frequencies (and in certain cases the mode shapes) of the frame. Independent finite element simulations conducted in ANSYS® APDL are consistently used to verify the validity of the analytical results.

Following is an analysis of the small-strain nonlinear elasticity of granular media near states of zero stress, as it relates to the pressure-dependent incremental linear elasticity and wave speeds. The main object is elucidation of the p ½ dependence of incremental elastic moduli on pressure p , a dependence observed in numerous experiments but found to be at odds with the p ½ scaling predicted by various micromechanical models based on hertzian contact. After presenting a power-law continuum model for small-strain nonlinear elasticity, the present work develops micromechanical models based on two alternative mechanisms for the anomalous pressure scaling, namely: (1) departures at the single-contact level from the hertzian contact, due to point-like or conical asphericity; (2) variation in the number density of hertzian contacts, due to buckling of particle chains. Both mechanisms result in p ½ pressure scaling at low pressure and both exhibit a high-pressure transition to p ½ scaling at a characteristic transition pressure p *. For assemblages of nearly equal spheres, a non-hertzian contact model for mechanism (1) and percolation-type model for (2) yield estimates of p * of the form p * = c μ ˆ ∝ 3 . Here c is a non-dimensional coefficient depending only on granular-contact geometry, while α ≪ 1 is a small parameter representing spherical imperfections and μ ˆ is an appropriate elastic modulus of the particles. Then, with R representing particle radius and h a characteristic spherical tolerance or asperity height, it is found that α = ( h / R ) ½ for mechanism (1) as opposed to α = h / R for (2). Limited data from the classic experiments of Duffy & Mindlin on sphere assemblages tend to support mechanism (1), but more exhaustive experiments are called for. In addition to the above analysis of reversible elastic effects, a percolation model of inelastic ‘shake-down’ or consolidation is given. It serves to describe how prolonged mechanical vibration, leading to the replacement of point-like or inactive contacts by stiffer Hertz contacts may change the pressure-scaling behaviour of particulate media. The present analysis suggests that pressure-dependence of elasticity may provide a useful means of characterizing the state of consolidation and stability of dense particulate media.

Spacecraft is an assemblage of several elements and many of these elements have statically indeterminate interfaces. The distribution of forces at their interfaces depends on the stiffness at these interfaces. It is expected that the forces at the interface of a subsystem are significant in regions that are relatively stiff. It is shown here that this behavior is true when the force acts only on the specific subsystem and no forces act on the rest of the elements. If the forces act on the entire system the force distribution at the interface of a subsystem is significantly modified by the deformation at these interfaces which are caused due to the forces acting on the rest of the elements. The forces can be significant even at locations where the stiffness is low. These characteristics are concluded using a spring-mass model. Using the results of finite element model these findings are then demonstrated for the forces at the interfaces of a propellant tank mounted in a spacecraft. Similar characteristics of force distribution are seen in the natural modes of vibration. Experimental results are obtained and they show good agreement with the above findings.

The present work proposes the extension of an exact distributional model for cracked beams to include the local influence on axial deformation on shear deformable beams. Axial, shear and flexural concentrated flexibilities are taken into account to model the damaged sections. Shear deformability is accounted for by adopting the Timoshenko–Ehrenfest model and exact closed-form solution of the mode shapes for multiple cracked beams are derived. On this ground, the final achievement of the work consists in the original formulation of the Dynamic Stiffness Matrix (DSM) with multiple cracked sections in exact closed form. The closed-form expression of the DSM allows the assemblage of the global DSM of a structure to conduct the free vibration analysis of damaged framed structures as well as for the study of frames with semi-rigid joints. This approach has the advantage to avoid any numerical procedure for the construction of the DSM as well as the introduction of further degrees of freedom (dofs) in correspondence of the damaged sections, keeping the size of the problem the same as in the intact configuration. Natural frequencies of the frames are determined by means of the Wittrick–Williams algorithm (W–W), then the mode shapes and modal forces are subsequently obtained in closed form. The proposed approach is validated with results available in literature for two portal frames characterized by the presence of cracks and semi-rigid joints, respectively. Finally, the potentiality of the approach, also in view of practical applications, is demonstrated analysing a multi-storey frame with semi-rigid connections.

AbstractA new activity model for Fe–Mg–Al biotites is formulated, which extends that of Mg–Al biotites (Dachs and Benisek, Contrib Mineral Petrol 174:76, 2019) to the K2O–FeO–MgO–Al2O3–SiO2–H2O (KFMASH) system. It has the two composition variables XMg = Mg/(Mg + Fe2+) and octahedral Al, and Fe–Mg and Mg–Al ordering variables resulting in five linearly independent endmembers: annite (Ann, K[Fe]M1[Fe]2M2[Al0.5Si0.5]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2, phlogopite (Phl, K[Mg]M1[Mg]2M2[Al0.5Si0.5]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2, ordered Fe–Mg biotite (Obi, K[Fe]M1[Mg]2M2[Al0.5Si0.5]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2, ordered eastonite (Eas, K[Al]M1[Mg]2M2[Al]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2, and disordered eastonite (Easd, K[Al1/3Mg2/3]M1[Al1/3Mg2/3]2M2[Al]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2. The methods applied to parameterize the mixing properties of the model were: calorimetry, analysis of existing phase-equilibrium data, line-broadening in powder absorption infrared (IR) spectra, and density functional theory (DFT) calculations. For the calorimetric study, various biotite compositions along the annite–phlogopite, annite–siderophyllite (Sid, K[Al]M1[Fe]2M2[Al]2T1[Si]2T2O10(OH)2), and annite–eastonite joins were synthesized hydrothermally at 700 °C, 4 kbar and logfO2 of around − 20.2, close to the redox conditions of the wüstite–magnetite oxygen buffer at that P–T conditions. The samples were characterised by X-ray powder diffraction (XRPD), energy-dispersive scanning electron microprobe analysis, powder absorption IR spectroscopy, and optical microscopy. The samples were studied further using relaxation calorimetry to measure their heat capacities (Cp) at temperatures from 2 to 300 K. The measured Cp/T was then integrated to get the calorimetric (vibrational) entropies of the samples at 298.15 K. These show linear behaviour when plotted as a function of composition for all three binaries. Excess entropies of mixing are thus zero for the important biotite joins. Excess volumes of mixing are also zero within error for the three binaries Phl-Ann, Ann-Sid, and Ann-Eas. KFMASH biotite, therefore, has excess enthalpies which are independent of pressure and temperature (WGij = WHij). A least-squares procedure was applied in the thermodynamic analysis of published experimental data on the Fe–Mg exchange between biotite and olivine, combined with phase-equilibrium data for phlogopite + quartz stability and experimental data for the Al-saturation level of biotite in the assemblage biotite–sillimanite–sanidine–quartz–H2O to constrain enthalpic mixing parameters and to derive enthalpy of formation values for biotite endmembers. For Fe–Mg mixing in biotite, the most important binary, this gave best-fit asymmetric Margules enthalpy parameters of WHAnnPhl = 14.3 ± 3.4 kJ/mol and WHPhlAnn = −8.8 ± 8.0 kJ/mol (3-cation basis). The resulting asymmetric molar excess Gibbs free energy (Gex) departs only slightly from ideality and is negative at Fe-rich and positive at Mg-rich compositions. Near-ideal activity–composition relationships are thus indicated for the Ann–Phl binary. The presently used low value of − 2 kJ/mol for the enthalpy change of the reaction 2/3 Phl + 1/3 Ann = Obi is generally confirmed by DFT calculations that gave − 2 ± 3 kJ/mol for this ∆HFe–Mg order, indicating that Fe–Mg ordering in biotite is weak. The large enthalpy change of ∆HMg-Al disorder = 34.5 kJ/mol for the disordering of Mg and Al on the M sites in Eas (Dachs and Benisek 2019) is reconfirmed by additional DFT calculations. In combination with WHPhlEas = 10 kJ/mol, which is the preferred value of this study describing mixing along the Phl–Eas join, Mg–Al disordering over the M sites of biotite is predicted to be only significant at high temperatures > 1000 °C. In contrast, it plays no role in metamorphic P–T settings.

“Communicating deep feeling in linear solid blocks of print felt arcane, a method beyond me” — Audre Lorde in an interview with Adrienne Rich (Lorde 87) How do you disclose? In writing, in spoken words, in movements, in sounds, in the quiet energetic vibration and its trace in discourse? Is disclosure a narrative account of a self, or a poetic fragment, sent into the world outside the sanction of a story or another recognisable form (see fig. 1)?These are the questions that guide my exploration in this essay. I meditate on them from the vantage point of my own self-narrative, as a community performance practitioner and writer, a poet whose artistry, in many ways, relies on the willingness of others to disclose, to open themselves, and yet who feels ambivalent about narrative disclosures. What I share with you, reader, are my thoughts on what some may call compassion fatigue, on boredom, on burn-out, on the inability to be moved by someone’s hard-won right to story her life, to tell his narrative, to disclose her pain. I find it ironic that for as long as I can remember, my attention has often wandered when someone tells me their story—how this cancer was diagnosed, what the doctors did, how she coped, how she garnered support, how she survived, how that person died, how she lived. The story of how addiction took over her life, how she craved, how she hated, how someone sponsored her, listened to her, how she is making amends, how she copes, how she gets on with her life. The story of being born this way, being prodded this way, being paraded in front of doctors just like this, being operated on, being photographed, being inappropriately touched, being neglected, being forgotten, being unloved, being lonely. Listening to these accounts, my attention does wander, even though this is the heart blood of my chosen life—these are the people whose company I seek, with whom I feel comfortable, with whom I make art, with whom I make a life, to whom I disclose my own stories. But somehow, when we rehearse these stories in each others’s company (for rehearsal, polishing, is how I think of storytelling), I drift. In this performance-as-research essay about disclosure, I want to draw attention to what does draw my attention in community art situations, what halts my drift, and allows me to find connection beyond a story that is unique and so special to this individual, but which I feel I have heard so many times. What grabs me, again and again, lies beyond the words, beyond the “I did this… and that… and they did this… and that,” beyond the story of hardship and injury, recovery and overcoming. My moment of connection tends to happen in the warmth of this hand in mine. It occurs in the material connection that seems to well up between these gray eyes and my own deep gaze. I can feel the skin change its electric tonus as I am listening to the uncoiling account. There’s a timbre in the voice that I follow, even as I lose the words. In the moment of verbal disclosure, physical intimacy changes the time and space of encounter. And I know that the people I sit with are well aware of this—it is not lost on them that my attention isn’t wholly focused on the story they are telling, that I will have forgotten core details when next we work together. But they are also aware, I believe, of those moments of energetic connect that happen through, beyond and underneath the narrative disclosure. There is a physical opening occurring here, right now, when I tell this account to you, when you sit by my side and I confess that I can’t always keep the stories of my current community participants straight, that I forget names all the time, that I do not really wish to put together a show with lots of testimony, that I’d rather have single power words floating in space.Figure 1. Image: Keira Heu-Jwyn Chang. Performer: Neil Marcus.”water burns sun”. Burning. 2009. Orientation towards the Frame: A Poetics of VibrationThis essay speaks about how I witness the uncapturable in performance, how the limits of sharing fuel my performance practice. I also look at the artistic processes of community performance projects, and point out traces of this other attention, this poetics of vibration. One of the frames through which I construct this essay is a focus on the formal in practice: on an attention to the shapes of narratives, and on the ways that formal experimentation can open up spaces beyond and beneath the narratives that can sound so familiar. An attention to the formal in community practice is often confused with an elitist drive towards quality, towards a modern or post-modern play with forms that stands somehow in opposition to how “ordinary people” construct their lives. But there are other ways to think about “the formal,” ways to question the naturalness with which stories are told, poems are written, the ease of an “I”, the separation between self and those others (who hurt, or love, or persecute, or free), the embedment of the experience of thought in institutions of thinking. Elizabeth St. Pierre frames her own struggle with burn-out, falling silent, and the need to just keep going even if the ethical issues involved in continuing her research overwhelm her. She charts out her thinking in reference to Michel Foucault’s comments on how to transgress into a realm of knowing that stretches a self, allows it “get free of oneself.”Getting free of oneself involves an attempt to understand the ‘structures of intelligibility’ (Britzman, 1995, p. 156) that limit thought. Foucault (1984/1985) explaining the urgency of such labor, says, ‘There are times in life when the question of knowing if one can think differently than one thinks, and perceive differently than one sees, is absolutely necessary if one is to go on looking and reflecting at all’ (p. 8). (St. Pierre 204)Can we think outside the structure of story, outside the habits of thought that make us sense and position ourselves in time and space, in power and knowledge? Is there a way to change the frame, into a different format, to “change our mind”? And even if there is not, if the structures of legibility always contain what we can think, there might be riches in that borderland, the bordercountry towards the intelligible, the places where difference presses close in an uncontained, unstoried way. To think differently, to get free of oneself: all these concerns resonate deeply with me, and with the ways that I wish to engage in community art practice. Like St. Pierre, I try to embrace Deleuzian, post-structuralist approaches to story and self:The collective assemblage is always like the murmur from which I take my proper name, the constellation of voices, concordant or not, from which I draw my voice. […] To write is perhaps to bring this assemblage of the unconscious to the light of day, to select the whispering voices, to gather the tribes and secret idioms from which I extract something I call myself (moi). I is an order word. (Deleuze and Guattari 84).“I” wish to perform and to write at the moment when the chorus of the voices that make up my “I” press against my skin, from the inside and the outside, query the notion of ‘skin’ as barrier. But can “I” stay in that vibrational moment? This essay will not be an exercise in quotation marks, but it is an essay of many I’s, and—imagine you see this essay performed—I invite the vibration of the hand gestures that mark small breaches in the air next to my head as I speak.Like St. Pierre, I get thrown off those particular theory horses again and again. But curiosity drives me on, and it is a curiosity nourished not by the absence of (language) connection, by isolation, but by the fullness of those movements of touch and density I described above. That materiality of the tearful eye gaze, the electricity of those fine skin hairs, the voice shivering me: these are not essentialist connections that somehow reveal or disclose a person to me, but these matters make the boundaries of “me” and “person” vibrate. Disclose here becomes the density of living itself, the flowing, non-essential process of shaping lives together. Deleuze and Guattari (1987) have called this bordering “deterritorialization,” always already bound to the reterritorialisation that allows the naming of the experience. Breath-touch on the limits of territories.This is not a shift from verbal to a privileging of non-verbal communication, finding richness and truth in one and less in the other. Non-verbal communication can be just as conventional as spoken language. When someone’s hand reaches out to touch someone who is upset, that gesture can feel ingrained and predictable, and the chain of caretaking that is initiated by the gesture can even hinder the flow of disclosure the crying or upset person might be engaged in. Likewise, I believe the common form of the circle, one I use in nearly every community session I lead, does not really create more community than another format would engender. The repetition of the circle just has something very comforting, it can allow all participants to drop into a certain kind of ease that is different from the everyday, but the rules of that ease are not open—circles territorialise as much as they de-territorialise: here is an inside, here an outside. There is nothing inherently radical in them. But circles might create a radical shift in communication situations when they break open other encrusted forms—an orientation to a leader, a group versus individual arrangement, or the singularity of islands out in space. Circles brings lots of multiples into contact, they “gather the tribes.” What provisional I’s we extract from them in each instance is our ethical challenge.Bodily Fantasies on the Limit: BurningEven deeply felt inner experiences do not escape the generic, and there is lift available in the vibration between the shared fantasy and the personal fantasy. I lead an artists’ collective, The Olimpias, and in 2008/2009, we created Burning, a workshop and performance series that investigated cell imagery, cancer imagery, environmental sensitivity and healing journeys through ritual-based happenings infused with poetry, dramatic scenes, Butoh and Contact Improvisation dances, and live drawing (see: http://www.olimpias.org/).Performance sites included the Subterranean Arthouse, Berkeley, July and October 2009, the Earth Matters on Stage Festival, Eugene, Oregon, May 2009, and Fort Worden, Port Townsend, Washington State, August 2009. Participants for each installation varied, but always included a good percentage of disabled artists.(see fig. 2).Figure 2. Image: Linda Townsend. Performers: Participants in the Burning project. “Burning Action on the Beach”. Burning. 2009. In the last part of these evening-long performance happenings, we use meditation techniques to shift the space and time of participants. We invite people to lie down or otherwise become comfortable (or to observe in quiet). I then begin to lead the part of the evening that most closely dovetails with my personal research exploration. With a slow and reaching voice, I ask people to breathe, to become aware of the movement of breath through their bodies, and of the hollows filled by the luxuriating breath. Once participants are deeply relaxed, I take them on journeys which activate bodily fantasies. I ask them to breathe in colored lights (and leave the specific nature of the colors to them). I invite participants to become cell bodies—heart cells, liver cells, skin cells—and to explore the properties and sensations of these cell environments, through both internal and external movement. “What is the surface, what is deep inside, what does the granular space of the cell feel like? How does the cell membrane move?” When deeply involved in these explorations, I move through the room and give people individual encounters by whispering to them, one by one—letting them respond bodily to the idea that their cell encounters alchemical elements like gold and silver, lead or mercury, or other deeply culturally laden substances like oil or blood. When I am finished with my individual instruction to each participant, all around me, people are moving gently, undulating, contracting and expanding, their eyes closed and their face full of concentration and openness. Some have dropped out of the meditation and are sitting quietly against a wall, observing what is going on around them. Some move more than others, some whisper quietly to themselves.When people are back in spoken-language-time, in sitting-upright-time, we all talk about the experiences, and about the cultural body knowledges, half-forgotten healing practices, that seem to emerge like Jungian archetypes in these movement journeys. During the meditative/slow movement sequence, some long-standing Olimpias performers in the room had imagined themselves as cancer cells, and gently moved with the physical imagery this brought to them. In my meditation invitations during the participatory performance, I do not invite community participants to move as cancer cells—it seems to me to require a more careful approach, a longer developmental period, to enter this darkly signified state, even though Olimpias performers do by no means all move tragically, darkly, or despairing when entering “cancer movement.” In workshops in the weeks leading up to the participatory performances, Olimpias collaborators entered these experiences of cell movement, different organ parts, and cancerous movement many times, and had time to debrief and reflect on their experiences.After the immersion exercise of cell movement, we ask people how it felt like to lie and move in a space that also held cancer cells, and if they noticed different movement patterns, different imaginaries of cell movement, around them, and how that felt. This leads to rich discussions, testimonies of poetic embodiment, snippets of disclosures, glimpses of personal stories, but the echo of embodiment seems to keep the full, long stories at bay, and outside of the immediacy of our sharing. As I look around myself while listening, I see some hands intertwined, some gentle touches, as people rock in the memory of their meditations.nowyour light shines very brightlybut I want youto knowyour darkness alsorichand beyond fear (Lorde 87)My research aim with these movement meditation sequences is not to find essential truths about human bodily imagination, but to explore the limits of somatic experience and cultural expression, to make artful life experiential and to hence create new tools for living in the chemically saturated world we all inhabit.I need to add here that these are my personal aims for Burning—all associated artists have their own journey, their own reasons for being involved, and there is no necessary consensus—just a shared interest in transformation, the cultural images of disease, disability and addiction, the effects of invasion and touch in our lives, and how embodied poetry can help us live. (see fig. 3). For example, a number of collaborators worked together in the participatory Burning performances at the Subterranean Arthouse, a small Butoh performance space in Berkeley, located in an old shop, complete with an open membrane into the urban space—a shop-window and glass door. Lots of things happen with and through us during these evenings, not just my movement meditations.One of my colleagues, Sadie Wilcox, sets up live drawing scenarios, sketching the space between people. Another artist, Harold Burns, engages participants in contact dance, and invites a crossing of boundaries in and through presence. Neil Marcus invites people to move with him, gently, and blindfolded, and to feel his spastic embodiment and his facility with tender touch. Amber diPietra’s poem about cell movement and the journeys from one to another sounds out in the space, set to music by Mindy Dillard. What I am writing about here is my personal account of the actions I engage in, one facet of these evenings—choreographing participants’ inner experiences.Figure 3. Image: Keira Heu-Jwyn Chang. Performers: Artists in the Burning project. “water burns sun”. Burning. 2009. My desires echo Lorde’s poem: “I want you”—there’s a sensual desire in me when I set up these movement meditation scenes, a delight in an erotic language and voice touch that is not predicated on sexual contact, but on intimacy, and on the borderlines, the membranes of the ear and the skin; ‘to know’—I continue to be intrigued and obsessed, as an artist and as a critic, by the way people envision what goes on inside them, and find agency, poetic lift, in mobilising these knowledges, in reaching from the images of bodies to the life of bodies in the world. ‘your darkness also’—not just the bright light, no, but also the fears and the strengths that hide in the blood and muscle, in the living pulsing shadow of the heart muscle pumping away, in the dark purple lobe of the liver wrapping itself around my middle and purifying, detoxifying, sifting, whatever sweeps through this body.These meditative slow practices can destabilise people. Some report that they experience something quite real, quite deep, and that there is transformation to be gained in these dream journeys. But the framing within which the Burning workshops take place question immediately the “authentic” of this experiential disclosure. The shared, the cultural, the heritage and hidden knowledge of being encultured quickly complicate any essence. This is where the element of formal enframing enters into the immediacy of experience, and into the narration of a stable, autonomous “I.” Our deepest cellular experience, the sounds and movements we listen to when we are deeply relaxed, are still cultured, are still shared, come to us in genres and stable image complexes.This form of presentation also questions practices of self-disclosure that participate in trauma narratives through what Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman has called “impression management” (208). Goffman researched the ways we play ourselves as roles in specific contexts, how we manage acts of disclosure and knowledge, how we deal with stigma and stereotype. Impression management refers to the ways people present themselves to others, using conscious or unconscious techniques to shape their image. In Goffman’s framing of these acts of self-presentation, performance and dramaturgical choices are foregrounded: impression management is an interactive, dynamic process. Disclosure becomes a semiotic act, not a “natural,” unfiltered display of an “authentic” self, but a complex engagement with choices. The naming and claiming of bodily trauma can be part of the repertoire of self-representation, a (stock-)narrative that enables recognition and hence communication. The full traumatic narrative arc (injury, reaction, overcoming) can here be a way to manage the discomfort of others, to navigate potential stigma.In Burning, by-passing verbal self-disclosure and the recitation of experience, by encountering ourselves in dialogue with our insides and with foreign elements in this experiential way, there is less space for people to speak managed, filtered personal truths. I find that these truths tend to either close down communication if raw and direct, or become told as a story in its complete, polished arc. Either form leaves little space for dialogue. After each journey through bodies, cells, through liver and heart, breath and membrane, audience members need to unfold for themselves what they felt, and how that felt, and how that relates to the stories of cancer, environmental toxins and invasion that they know.It is not fair. We should be able to have dialogues about “I am poisoned, I live with environmental sensitivities, and they constrict my life,” “I survived cancer,” “I have multiple sclerosis,” “I am autistic,” “I am addicted to certain substances,” “I am injured by certain substances.” But tragedy tugs at these stories, puts their narrators into the realm of the inviolate, as a community quickly feel sorry for these persons, or else feels attacked by them, in particular if one does not know how to help. Yes, we know this story: we can manage her identity for her, and his social role can click into fixity. The cultural weight of these narratives hinders flow, become heavily stigmatised. Many contemporary writers on the subjects of cancer and personhood recognise the (not always negative) aspects of this stigma, and mobilise them in their narratives. As Marisa Acocella Marchetto in the Cancer-Vixen: A True Story puts it: ‘Play the cancer card!’ (107). The cancer card appears in this graphic novel memoir in the form of a full-page spoof advertisement, and the card is presented as a way to get out of unwanted social obligations. The cancer card is perfectly designed to create the communal cringe and the hasty retreat. If you have cancer, you are beyond the pale, and ordinary rules of behavior do no longer apply. People who experience these life-changing transformational diagnoses often know very well how isolating it can be to name one’s personal story, and many are very careful about how they manage disclosure, and know that if they choose to disclose, they have to manage other people’s discomfort. In Burning, stories of injury and hurt swing in the room with us, all of these stories are mentioned in our performance program, but none of them are specifically given individual voice in our performance (although some participants chose to come out in the sharing circle at the end of the event). No one owns the diagnoses, the identity of “survivor,” and the presence of these disease complexes are instead dispersed, performatively enacted and brought in experiential contact with all members of our temporary group. When you leave our round, you most likely still do not know who has multiple sclerosis, who has substance addiction issues, who is sensitive to environmental toxins.Communication demands territorialisation, and formal experimentation alone, unanchored in lived experience, easily alienates. So how can disclosure and the storytelling self find some lift, and yet some connection, too? How can the Burning cell imaginary become both deep, emotionally rich and formal, pointing to its constructed nature? That’s the question that each of the Olimpias’ community performance experiments begins with.How to Host a Past Collective: Setting Up a CirclePreceding Burning, one of our recent performance investigations was the Anarcha Project. In this multi-year, multi-site project, we revisited gynecological experiments performed on slave women in Montgomery, Alabama, in the 1840s, by J. Marion Sims, the “father of American gynecology.” We did so not to revictimise historical women as suffering ciphers, or stand helpless at the site of historical injury. Instead, we used art-based methods to investigate the heritage of slavery medicine in contemporary health care inequalities and women’s health care. As part of the project, thousands of participants in multiple residencies across the U.S. shared their stories with the project leaders—myself, Aimee Meredith Cox, Carrie Sandahl, Anita Gonzalez and Tiye Giraud. We collected about two hundred of these fragments in the Anarcha Anti-Archive, a website that tries, frustratingly, to undo the logic of the ordered archive (Cox et al. n.p).The project closed in 2008, but I still give presentations with the material we generated. But what formal methods can I select, ethically and responsibly, to present the multivocal nature of the Anarcha Project, given that it is now just me in the conference room, given that the point of the project was the intersection of multiple stories, not the fetishisation of individual ones? In a number of recent presentations, I used a circle exercise to engage in fragmented, shrouded disclosure, to keep privacies safe, and to find material contact with one another. In these Anarcha rounds, we all take words into our mouths, and try to stay conscious to the nature of this act—taking something into our mouth, rather than acting out words, normalising them into spoken language. Take this into your mouth—transgression, sacrament, ritual, entrainment, from one body to another.So before an Anarcha presentation, I print out random pages from our Anarcha Anti-Archive. A number of the links in the website pull up material through chance procedures (a process implemented by Olimpias collaborator Jay Steichmann, who is interested in digital literacies). So whenever you click that particular link, you get to a different page in the anti-archive, and you can not retrace your step, or mark you place in an unfolding narrative. What comes up are poems, story fragments, images, all sent in in response to cyber Anarcha prompts. We sent these prompts during residencies to long-distance participants who could not physically be with us, and many people, from Wales to Malaysia, sent in responses. I pull up a good number of these pages, combined with some of the pages written by the core collaborators of our project. In the sharing that follows, I do not speak about the heart of the project, but I mark that I leave things unsaid. Here is what I do not say in the moment of the presentation—those medical experiments were gynecological operations without anesthesia, executed to close vaginal fistula that were leaking piss and shit, executed without anesthesia not because it was not available, but because the doctor did not believe that black women felt pain. I can write this down, here, in this essay, as you can now stop for a minute if you need to collect yourself, as you listen to what this narrative does to your inside. You might feel a clench deep down in your torso, like many of us did, a kinesthetic empathy that translates itself across text, time and space, and which became a core choreographic element in our Anarcha poetics.I do not speak about the medical facts directly in a face-to-face presentation where there is no place to hide, no place to turn away. Instead, I point to a secret at the heart of the Anarcha Project, and explain where all the medical and historical data can be found (in the Anarcha Project essay, “Remembering Anarcha,” in the on-line performance studies journal Liminalities site, free and accessible to all without subscription, now frequently used in bioethics education (see: http://www.liminalities.net/4-2). The people in the round, then, have only a vague sense of what the project is about, and I explain why this formal frame appears instead of open disclosure. I ask their permission to proceed. They either give it to me, or else our circle becomes something else, and we speak about performance practices and formal means of speaking about trauma instead.Having marked the space as one in which we agree on a specific framework or rule, having set up a space apart, we begin. One by one, raw and without preamble, people in the circle read what they have been given. The meaning of what they are reading only comes to them as they are reading—they have had little time to familiarise themselves with the words beforehand. Someone reads a poem about being held as a baby by one’s mother, being accepted, even through the writer’s body is so different. Someone reads about the persistence of shame. Someone reads about how incontinence is so often the borderline for independent living in contemporary cultures—up to here, freedom; past this point, at the point of leakage, the nursing home. Someone reads about her mother’s upset about digging up that awful past again. Someone reads about fibroid tumors in African-American women. Someone reads about the Venus Hottentott. Someone begins to cry (most recently at a Feminisms and Rhetorics conference), crying softly, and there is no knowing about why, but there is companionship, and quiet contemplation, and it is ok. These presentations start with low-key chatting, setting up the circle, and end the same way—once we have made our way around, once our fragments are read out, we just sit and talk, no “presentation-mode” emerges, and no one gets up into high drama. We’ve all taken strange things into our mouths, talked of piss and shit and blood and race and oppression and love and survival. Did we get free of ourselves, of the inevitability of narrative, in the attention to articulation, elocution, the performance of words, even if just for a moment? Did we taste the words on our tongues, material physical traces of a different form of embodiment? Container/ConclusionThe poet Anne Carson attended one of our Anarcha presentations, and her comments to us that evening helped to frame our subsequent work for me—she called our work creating a container, a vessel for experience, without sharing the specifics of that experience. I have since explored this image further, thought about amphorae as commemorative vases, thought of earth and clay as materials, thought of the illustrations on ancient vessels, on pattern and form, flow and movement. The vessel as matter: deterritorialising and reterritorialising, familiar and strange, shaping into form, and shaped out of formlessness, fired in the light and baked in the earth’s darkness, hardened only to crumble and crack again with the ages, returning to dust. These disclosures are in time and space—they are not narratives that create an archive or a body of knowledge. They breathe, and vibrate, and press against skin. What can be contained, what leaks, what finds its way through the membrane?These disclosures are traces of life, and I can touch them. I never get bored by them. Come and sit by my side, and we share in this river flow border vessel cell life.ReferencesBritzman, Deborah P. "Is There a Queer Pedagogy? Or, Stop Reading Straight." Educational Theory 45:2 (1995): 151–165. Burning. The Olimpias Project. Berkley; Eugene; Fort Worden. May-October, 2009Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality: Vol. 2. The Use of Pleasure. Trans. Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage, 1985.Goffman, Erving. Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Anchor, 1969Kuppers, Petra. “Remembering Anarcha: Objection in the Medical Archive.” Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies 4.2 (2006): n.p. 24 July 2009 < http://liminalities.net/4-2 >.Cox, Aimee Meredith, Tiye Giraud, Anita Gonzales, Petra Kuppers, and Carrie Sandahl. “The Anarcha-Anti-Archive.” Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies 4.2 (2006): n.p. 24 July 2009 < http://liminalities.net/4-2 >.Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Berkeley: The Crossing Press, 1984.Marchetto, Marisa Acocella. Cancer Vixen: A True Story. New York: Knopf, 2006.St. Pierre, Elizabeth Adams. “Circling the Text: Nomadic Writing Practices.” Qualitative Inquiry 3.4 (1997): 403–18.

If the home is traditionally considered to be a space of safety associated with the warm and cosy feeling of the familial hearth, it is also continuously portrayed as a space under threat from the outside from which we must secure ourselves and our families. Securing the home entails a series of material, discursive and performative strategies, a host of precautionary measures aimed at regulating and ultimately producing security. When I was eleven my family returned home from the local fruit markets to find our house had been ransacked. Clothes were strewn across the floor, electrical appliances were missing and my parents’ collection of jewellery – wedding rings and heirlooms – had been stolen. Few things remained untouched and the very thought of someone else’s hands going through our personal belongings made our home feel tainted. My parents were understandably distraught. As Filipino immigrants to Australia the heirlooms were not only expensive assets from both sides of my family, but also signifiers of our homeland. Added to their despair was the fact that this was our first house – we had rented prior to that. During the police interviews, we discovered that our area, Sydney’s Western suburbs, was considered ‘high-risk’ and we were advised to install security. In their panic my parents began securing their home. Grills were installed on every window. Each external wooden door was reinforced by a metal security door. Movement detectors were installed at the front of the house, which were set to blind intruders with floodlights. Even if an intruder could enter the back through a window a metal grill security door was waiting between the backroom and the kitchen to stop them from getting to our bedrooms. In short, through a series of transformations our house was made into a residential fortress. Yet home security had its own dangers. A series of rules and regulations were drilled into me ‘in case of an emergency’: know where your keys are in case of a fire so that you can get out; remember the phone numbers for an emergency and the work numbers of your parents; never let a stranger into the house; and if you need to speak to a stranger only open the inside door but leave the security screen locked. Thus, for my Filipino-migrant family in the 1990s, a whole series of defensive behaviours and preventative strategies were produced and disseminated inside and around the home to regulate security risks. Such “local knowledges” were used to reinforce the architectural manifestations of security at the same time that they were a response to the invasion of security systems into our house that created a new set of potential dangers. This article highlights “the interplay of material and symbolic geographies of home” (Blunt and Varley 4), focusing on the relation between urban fears circulating around and within the home and the spatial practices used to negotiate such fears. In exploring home security systems it extends the exemplary analysis of home technologies already begun in Lynn Spigel’s reading of the ‘smart home’ (381-408). In a similar vein, David Morley’s analysis of mediated domesticity shows how communications technology has reconfigured the inside and outside to the extent that television actually challenges the physical boundary that “protects the privacy and solidarity of the home from the flux and threat of the outside world” (87). Television here serves as a passage in which the threat of the outside is reframed as news or entertainment for family viewing. I take this as a point of departure to consider the ways that this mediated fear unfolds in the technology of our homes. Following Brian Massumi, I read the home as “a node in a circulatory network of many dimensions (each corresponding to a technology of transmission)” (85). For Massumi, the home is an event-space at the crossroads of media technologies and political technologies. “In spite of the locks on the door, the event-space of the home must be seen as one characterized by a very loose regime of passage” (85). The ‘locked door’ is not only a boundary marker that defines the inside from the outside but another technology that leads us outside the home into other domains of inquiry: the proliferation of security technologies and the mundane, fearful intimacies of the home. In this context, we should heed Iris Marion Young’s injunction to feminist critics that the home does provide some positives including a sense of privacy and the space to build relationships and identities. Yet, as Colomina argues, the traditional domestic ideal “can only be produced by engaging the home in combat” (20). If, as Colomina’s comment suggests, ontological security is at least partially dependent on physical security, then this article explores the ontological effects of our home security systems. Houses at War: Targeting the Family As Beatriz Colomina reminds us, in times of war we leave our homelands to do battle on the front line, but battle lines are also being drawn in our homes. Drawing inspiration from Virilio’s claim that contemporary war takes place without fighting, Colomina’s article ‘Domesticity at War’ contemplates the domestic interior as a “battlefield” (15). The house, she writes, is “a mechanism within a war where the differences between defense [sic] and attack have become blurred” (17). According to the Home Security Precautions, New South Wales, October 1999 report conducted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, 47% of NSW dwellings were ‘secure’ (meaning that they either had a burglar alarm, or all entry points were secured or they were inside a security block) while only 9% of NSW households had no home security devices present (Smith 3). In a similar report for Western Australia conducted in October 2004, an estimated 71% of WA households had window security of some sort (screens, locks or shutters) while 67% had deadlocks on at least one external door (4). An estimated 27% had a security alarm installed while almost half (49%) had sensor lights (Hubbard 4-5). This growing sense of insecurity means big business for those selling security products and services. By the end of June 1999, there were 1,714 businesses in Australia’s security services industry generating $1,395 million of income during 1998-99 financial year (McLennan 3; see also Macken). This survey did not include locksmith services or the companies dealing with alarm manufacturing, wholesaling or installing. While Colomina’s article focuses on the “war with weather” and the attempts to control environmental conditions inside the home through what she calls “counterdomesticity” (20), her conceptualisation of the house as a “military weapon” (17) provides a useful tool for thinking the relation between the home, architecture and security. Conceiving of the house as a military weapon might seem like a stretch, but we should recall that the rhetoric of war has already leaked into the everyday. One hears of the ‘war on drugs’ and the ‘war on crime’ in the media. ‘War’ is the everyday condition of our urban jungles (see also Diken and Lausten) and in order to survive, let alone feel secure, one must be able to defend one’s family and home. Take, for example, Signal Security’s website. One finds a panel on the left-hand side of the screen to all webpages devoted to “Residential Products”. Two circular images are used in the panel with one photograph overlapping the other. In the top circle, a white nuclear family (stereotypical mum, dad and two kids), dressed in pristine white clothing bare their white teeth to the internet surfer. Underneath this photo is another photograph in which an arm clad in a black leather jacket emerges through a smashed window. In the foreground a black-gloved hand manipulates a lock, while a black balaclava masks an unrecognisable face through the broken glass. The effect of their proximity produces a violent juxtaposition in which the burglar visually intrudes on the family’s domestic bliss. The panel stages a struggle between white and black, good and bad, family and individual, security and insecurity, recognisability and unidentifiability. It thus codifies the loving, knowable family as the domestic space of security against the selfish, unidentifiable intruder (presumed not to have a family) as the primary reason for insecurity in the family home – and no doubt to inspire the consumption of security products. Advertisements of security products thus articulate the family home as a fragile innocence constantly vulnerable from the outside. From a feminist perspective, this image of the family goes against the findings of the National Homicide Monitoring Program, which shows that 57% of the women killed in Australia between 2004 and 2005 were killed by an intimate partner while 17% were killed by a family member (Mouzos and Houliaras 20). If, on the one hand, the family home is targeted by criminals, on the other, it has emerged as a primary site for security advertising eager to exploit the growing sense of insecurity – the family as a target market. The military concepts of ‘target’ and ‘targeting’ have shifted into the benign discourse of strategic advertising. As Dora Epstein writes, “We arm our buildings to arm ourselves from the intrusion of a public fluidity, and thus our buildings, our architectures of fortification, send a very clear message: ‘avoid this place or protect yourself’” (1997: 139). Epstein’s reference to ‘architectures of fortification’ reminds us that the desire to create security through the built environment has a long history. Nan Ellin has argued that fear’s physical manifestation can be found in the formation of towns from antiquity to the Renaissance. In this sense, towns and cities are always already a response to the fear of foreign invaders (Ellin 13; see also Diken and Lausten 291). This fear of the outsider is most obviously manifested in the creation of physical walls. Yet fortification is also an effect of spatial allusions produced by the configuration of space, as exemplified in Fiske, Hodge and Turner’s semiotic reading of a suburban Australian display home without a fence. While the lack of a fence might suggest openness, they suggest that the manicured lawn is flat so “that eyes can pass easily over it – and smooth – so that feet will not presume to” (30). Since the front garden is best viewed from the street it is clearly a message for the outside, but it also signifies “private property” (30). Space is both organised and lived, in such a way that it becomes a medium of communication to passers-by and would-be intruders. What emerges in this semiotic reading is a way of thinking about space as defensible, as organised in a way that space can begin to defend itself. The Problematic of Defensible Space The incorporation of military architecture into civil architecture is most evident in home security. By security I mean the material systems (from locks to electronic alarms) and precautionary practices (locking the door) used to protect spaces, both of which are enabled by a way of imagining space in terms of risk and vulnerability. I read Oscar Newman’s 1972 Defensible Space as outlining the problematic of spatial security. Indeed, it was around that period that the problematic of crime prevention through urban design received increasing attention in Western architectural discourse (see Jeffery). Newman’s book examines how spaces can be used to reinforce human control over residential environments, producing what he calls ‘defensible space.’ In Newman’s definition, defensible space is a model for residential environments which inhibits crime by creating the physical expression of a social fabric that defends itself. All the different elements which combine to make a defensible space have a common goal – an environment in which latent territoriality and sense of community in the inhabitants can be translated into responsibility for ensuring a safe, productive, and well-maintained living space (3). Through clever design space begins to defend itself. I read Newman’s book as presenting the contemporary problematic of spatialised security: how to structure space so as to increase control; how to organise architecture so as to foster territorialism; how to encourage territorial control through amplifying surveillance. The production of defensible space entails moving away from what he calls the ‘compositional approach’ to architecture, which sees buildings as separate from their environments, and the ‘organic approach’ to architecture, in which the building and its grounds are organically interrelated (Newman 60). In this approach Newman proposes a number of changes to space: firstly, spaces need to be multiplied (one no longer has a simple public/private binary, but also semi-private and semi-public spaces); secondly, these spaces must be hierarchised (moving from public to semi-public to semi-private to private); thirdly, within this hierarchy spaces can also be striated using symbolic or material boundaries between the different types of spaces. Furthermore, spaces must be designed to increase surveillance: use smaller corridors serving smaller sets of families (69-71); incorporate amenities in “defined zones of influence” (70); use L-shaped buildings as opposed to rectangles (84); use windows on the sides of buildings to reveal the fire escape from outside (90). As he puts it, the subdivision of housing projects into “small, recognisable and comprehensible-at-a-glance enclaves is a further contributor to improving the visual surveillance mechanism” (1000). Finally, Newman lays out the principle of spatial juxtaposition: consider the building/street interface (positioning of doors and windows to maximise surveillance); consider building/building interface (e.g. build residential apartments next to ‘safer’ commercial, industrial, institutional and entertainment facilities) (109-12). In short, Newman’s book effectively redefines residential space in terms of territorial zones of control. Such zones of influence are the products of the interaction between architectural forms and environment, which are not reducible to the intent of the architect (68). Thus, in attempting to respond to the exigencies of the moment – the problem of urban crime, the cost of housing – Newman maps out residential space in what Foucault might have called a ‘micro-physics of power’. During the mid-1970s through to the 1980s a number of publications aimed at the average householder are printed in the UK and Australia. Apart from trade publishing (Bunting), The UK Design Council released two small publications (Barty, White and Burall; Design Council) while in Australia the Department of Housing and Construction released a home safety publication, which contained a small section on security, and the Australian Institute of Criminology published a small volume entitled Designing out Crime: Crime prevention through environmental design (Geason and Wilson). While Newman emphasised the responsibility of architects and urban planners, in these publications the general concerns of defensible space are relocated in the ‘average homeowner’. Citing crime statistics on burglary and vandalism, these publications incite their readers to take action, turning the homeowner into a citizen-soldier. The householder, whether he likes it or not, is already in a struggle. The urban jungle must be understood in terms of “the principles of warfare” (Bunting 7), in which everyday homes become bodies needing protection through suitable architectural armour. Through a series of maps and drawings and statistics, the average residential home is transformed into a series of points of vulnerability. Home space is re-inscribed as a series of points of entry/access and lines of sight. Simultaneously, through lists of ‘dos and don’ts’ a set of precautionary behaviours is inculcated into the readers. Principles of security begin codifying the home space, disciplining the spatial practices of the intimate, regulating the access and mobility of the family and guests. The Architectural Nervous System Nowadays we see a wild, almost excessive, proliferation of security products available to the ‘security conscious homeowner’. We are no longer simply dealing with security devices designed to block – such as locks, bolts and fasteners. The electronic revolution has aided the production of security devices that are increasingly more specialised and more difficult to manipulate, which paradoxically makes it more difficult for the security consumer to understand. Detection systems now include continuous wiring, knock-out bars, vibration detectors, breaking glass detectors, pressure mats, underground pressure detectors and fibre optic signalling. Audible alarm systems have been upgraded to wire-free intruder alarms, visual alarms, telephone warning devices, access control and closed circuit television and are supported by uninterruptible power supplies and control panels (see Chartered Institution of Building Service Engineers 19-39). The whole house is literally re-routed as a series of relays in an electronic grid. If the house as a security risk is defined in terms of points of vulnerability, alarm systems take these points as potential points of contact. Relays running through floors, doors and windows can be triggered by pressure, sound or dislocation. We see a proliferation of sensors: switching sensors, infra-red sensors, ultrasonic sensors, microwave radar sensors, microwave fence sensors and microphonic sensors (see Walker). The increasing diversification of security products attests to the sheer scale of these architectural/engineering changes to our everyday architecture. In our fear of crime we have produced increasingly more complex security products for the home, thus complexifying the spaces we somehow inherently feel should be ‘simple’. I suggest that whereas previous devices merely reinforced certain architectural or engineering aspects of the home, contemporary security products actually constitute the home as a feeling, architectural body capable of being affected. This recalls notions of a sensuous architecture and bodily metaphors within architectural discourse (see Thomsen; Puglini). It is not simply our fears that lead us to secure our homes through technology, but through our fears we come to invest our housing architecture with a nervous system capable of fearing for itself. Our eyes and ears become detection systems while our screams are echoed in building alarms. Body organs are deterritorialised from the human body and reterritorialised on contemporary residential architecture, while our senses are extended through modern security technologies. The vulnerable body of the family home has become a feeling body conscious of its own vulnerability. It is less about the physical expression of fear, as Nan Ellin has put it, than about how building materialities become capable of fearing for themselves. What we have now are residential houses that are capable of being more fully mobilised in this urban war. Family homes become bodies that scan the darkness for the slightest movements, bodies that scream at the slightest possibility of danger. They are bodies that whisper to each other: a house can recognise an intrusion and relay a warning to a security station, informing security personnel without the occupants of that house knowing. They are the newly produced victims of an urban war. Our homes are the event-spaces in which mediated fear unfolds into an architectural nervous system. If media plug our homes into one set of relations between ideologies, representations and fear, then the architectural nervous system plugs that back into a different set of relations between capital, fear and the electronic grid. The home is less an endpoint of broadcast media than a node in an electronic network, a larger nervous system that encompasses the globe. It is a network that plugs architectural nervous systems into city electronic grids into mediated subjectivities into military technologies and back again, allowing fear to be disseminated and extended, replayed and spliced into the most banal aspects of our domestic lives. References Barty, Euan, David White, and Paul Burall. Safety and Security in the Home. London: The Design Council, 1980. Blunt, Alison, and Ann Varley. “Introduction: Geographies of Home.” Cultural Geographies 11.1 (2004): 3-6. Bunting, James. The Protection of Property against Crime. Folkestone: Bailey Brothers & Sinfen, 1975. Chartered Institution of Building Service Engineers. Security Engineering. London: CIBSE, 1991. Colomina, Beatriz. “Domesticity at War.” Assemblage 16 (1991): 14-41. Department of Housing and Construction. Safety in and around the Home. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1981. Design Council. The Design Centre Guide to Domestic Safety and Security. London: Design Council, 1976. Diken, Bülent, and Carsten Bagge Lausten. “Zones of Indistinction: Security and Terror, and Bare Life.” Space and Culture 5.3 (2002): 290-307. Ellin, Nan. “Shelter from the Storm or Form Follows Fear and Vice Versa.” Architecture of Fear. Ed. Nan Ellin. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1997. Epstein, Dora. “Abject Terror: A Story of Fear, Sex, and Architecture.” Architecture of Fear. Ed. Nan Ellin. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1997. Fiske, John, Bob Hodge, and Graeme Turner. Myths of Oz: Reading Australian Popular Culture. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1987. Geason, Susan, and Paul Wilson. Designing Out Crime: Crime Prevention through Environmental Design. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology, 1989. Hubbard, Alan. Home Safety and Security, Western Australia. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2005. Jeffery, C. Ray. Crime Prevention through Environmental Design. Beverley Hills: Sage, 1971. Macken, Julie. “Why Aren’t We Happier?” Australian Financial Review 26 Nov. 1999: 26. Mallory, Keith, and Arvid Ottar. Architecture of Aggression: A History of Military Architecture in North West Europe, 1900-1945. Hampshire: Architectural Press, 1973. Massumi, Brian. Parables of the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Durham: Duke University Press, 2002. McLennan, W. Security Services, Australia, 1998-99. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2000. Morley, David. Home Territories: Media, Mobility and Identity. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Mouzos, Jenny, and Tina Houliaras. Homicide in Australia: 2004-05 National Homicide Monitoring Program (NHMP) Annual Report. Research and Public Policy Series 72. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology, 2006. Newman, Oscar. Defensible Space: Crime Prevention through Urban Design. New York: Collier, 1973. Puglini, Luigi. HyperArchitecture: Space in the Electronic Age. Basel: Bikhäuser, 1999. Signal Security. 13 January 2007 http://www.signalsecurity.com.au/securitysystems.htm>. Smith, Geoff. Home Security Precautions, New South Wales, October 1999. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2000. Spigel, Lynn. Welcome to the Dreamhouse: Popular Media and Postwar Suburbs. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2001. Thomsen, Christian W. Sensuous Architecture: The Art of Erotic Building. Munich and New York: Prestel, 1998. Walker, Philip. Electronic Security Systems: Better Ways to Crime Prevention. London: Butterworths, 1983. Young, Iris Marion. “House and Home: Feminist Variations on a Theme.” Feminist Interpretations of Martin Heidegger. Eds. Nancy J. Holland and Patricia Huntington. University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State UP, 2001. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Caluya, Gilbert. "The Architectural Nervous System: Home, Fear, Insecurity." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/05-caluya.php>. APA Style Caluya, G. (Aug. 2007) "The Architectural Nervous System: Home, Fear, Insecurity," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/05-caluya.php>.

For once I want to be the car crash, Not always just the traffic jam. Hit me hard enough to wake me, And lead me wild to your dark roads. (Snow Patrol: “Headlights on Dark Roads”, Eyes Open, 2006) I didn’t know about the online dating site rsvp.com.au until a woman who I was dating at the time showed me her online profile. Apparently ‘everyone does rsvp’. Well, ‘everyone’ except me. (Before things ended I never did ask her why she listed herself as ‘single’ on her profile…) Forming relationships in our era of post-institutional modes of sociality is problematic. Some probably find such ‘romantically’ orientated ‘meet up’ sites to be a more efficient option for sampling what is available. Perhaps others want some loving on the side. In some ways these sites transform romance into the online equivalent of the logistics dock at your local shopping centre. ‘Just-in-time’ relationships rely less on social support structures of traditional institutions such as the family, workplace, and so on, including ‘love’ itself, and more on a hit and miss style of dating, organised like a series of car crashes and perhaps even commodified through an eBay-style online catalogue (see Crawford 83-88). Instead of image-commodities there are image-people and the spectacle of post-romance romance as a debauched demolition derby. Is romance still possible if it is no longer the naïve and fatalistic realisation of complementary souls? I watched Paul Thomas Anderson’s third film Punch-Drunk Love with the above rsvp.com.au woman. She interpreted it in a completely different manner to me. I shall argue (as I did with her) that the film captures some sense of romance in a post-romance world. The film was billed as a comedy/romance or comedy/drama, but I did not laugh either with or at the film. The story covers the trials of two people ‘falling in love’. Lena Leonard (Emma Watson) orchestrates an encounter with Barry Egan (Adam Sandler) after seeing a picture of him with his seven sisters. The trajectory of the romance is defined less by the meeting of two people, than the violence of contingency and of the world arrayed by the event of love. Contingency is central to complexity theory. Contingency is not pure chance, rather it exists as part of the processual material time of the event that defines events or a series of events as problematic (Deleuze, The Logic of Sense 52-53). To problematise events and recognise the contingencies they inculcate is to refuse the tendency to colonise the future through actuarial practices, such as ‘risk management’ and insurance or the probabilistic ‘Perfect Match’ success of internet dating sites (mirroring ‘Dexter’ from the 1980s dating television game show). Therefore, through Punch-Drunk Love I shall problematise the event of love so as to resuscitate the contingencies of post-romance romance. It is not surprising Punch-Drunk Love opens with a car crash for the film takes romance on a veritable post-Crash detour. Crash – novel and film – serves as an exploration of surfaces and desire in a world at the intersection of the accident. Jean Baudrillard, in his infamous essay on Crash (novel), dwells on the repositioning of the accident: [It] is no longer at the margin, it is at the heart. It is no longer the exception to a triumphal rationality, it has become the Rule, it has devoured the Rule. … Everything is reversed. It is the Accident that gives form to life, it is the Accident, the insane, that is the sex of life. (113) After the SUV rolls over in Punch-Drunk Love’s opening scene, a taxi van pauses long enough for an occupant to drop off a harmonium. A harmonium is a cross between an organ and a piano, but much smaller than both. It is a harmony machine. It breathes and wheezes to gather potentiality consonant sound waves of heterogeneous frequencies to produce a unique musicality of multiplicative resonance. No reason is given for the harmonium in the workings of the film’s plot. Another accident without any explanation, like the SUV crash, but this time it is an accidental harmony-machine. The SUV accident is a disorganising eruption of excess force, while the accidental harmony-machine is a synthesising organisation of force. One produces abolition, while the other produces a multiplicative affirmation. These are two tendencies that follow two different relations to the heterogeneous materialism of contingency. Punch-Drunk Love captures the contingency at the heart of post-romance romance. Instead of the layers of expectation habituated into institutional engagements of two subjects meeting, there is the accident of the event of love within which various parties are arrayed with various affects and desires. I shall follow Alain Badiou’s definition of the event of love, but only to the point where I shall shift the perspective from love to romance. Badiou defines love by initially offering a series of negative definitions. Firstly, love is not a fusional concept, the ‘two’ that is ‘one’. That is because, as Badiou writes, “an ecstatic One can only be supposed beyond the Two as a suppression of the multiple” (“What Is Love?” 38). Secondly, nor is love the “prostration of the Same on the alter of the Other.” Badiou argues that it is not an experience of the Other, but an “experience of the world [i.e. multiple], or of the situation, under the post-evental condition that there were Two” (“What Is Love?” 39). Lastly, the rejection of the ‘superstructural’ or illusory conception of love, that is, to the base of desire and sexual jealously (Badiou, “What Is Love?” 39). For Badiou love is the production of truth. The truth is that the Two, and not only the One, are at work in the situation. However, from the perspective of romance, there is no post-evental truth procedure for love as such. In Deleuze’s terminology, from the perspective of post-romance the Two serves an important role as the ‘quasi-cause’ of love (The Logic of Sense 33), or for Badiou it is the “noemenal possibility [virtualite]” (“What Is Love?” 51). The event of the Two, and, therefore, of love, is immanent to itself. However, this does not capture the romantic functioning of love swept up in the quasi-cause of the Two. Romance is the differential repetition of the event of love to-come and thus the repetition of the intrinsic irreducible wonder at the heart of the event. The wonder at love’s heart is the excess of potentiality, the excitement, the multiplicity, the stultifying surprise. To resuscitate the functioning of love is to disagree with Badiou’s axiom that there is an absolute disjunction between the (nominalist) Two. The Two do actually share a common dimension and that is the radical contingency at the heart of love. Love is not as a teleological destiny of the eternal quasi-cause, but the fantastic impossibility of its contingent evental site. From Badiou’s line of argument, romance is precisely the passage of this “aleatory enquiry” (“What is Love?” 45), of “the world from the point of view of the Two, and not an enquiry of each term of the Two about the other” (49). Romance is the insinuation of desire into this dynamic of enquiry. Therefore, the functioning of romance is to produce a virtual architecture of wonder hewn from seeming impossibility of contingency. It is not the contingency in itself that is impossible (the ‘chaosmos’ is a manifold of wonderless-contingency), but that contingency might be repeated as part of a material practice that produces love as an effect of differentiating wonder. Or, again, not that the encounter of love has happened, but that precisely it might happen again and again. Romance is the material and embodied practice of producing wonder. The materiality of romance needs to be properly outlined and to do this I turn to another of Badiou’s texts and the film itself. To explicate the materialism of romance is to begin outlining the problematic of romance where the material force of Lena and Barry’s harmony resonates in the virtuosic co-production of new potentialities. The practice of romance is evidenced in the scene where Lena and Barry are in Hawaii and Lena is speaking to Barry’s sister while Barry is watching her. A sense of wonder is produced not in the other person but of the world as multiplicity produced free from the burden of Barry’s sister, hence altering the material conditions of the differential repetition of contingency. The materialism in effect here is, to borrow from Michel Foucault, an ‘incorporeal materialism’ (169), and pertains to the virtual evental dimension of love. In his Handbook of Inaesthetics, Badiou sets up dance and theatre as metaphors for thought. “The essence of dance,” writes Badiou, “is virtual, rather than actual movement” (Handbook of Inaesthetics 61), while theatre is an “assemblage” (72) which in part is “the circulation of desire between the sexes” (71). If romance is the deliberate care for the event of love and its (im)possible contingency, then the dance of love requires the theatre of romance. To include music with dance is to malign Badiou’s conception of dance by polluting it with some elements of what he calls ‘theatre’. To return to the Hawaii scene, Barry is arrayed as an example of what Badiou calls the ‘public’ of theatre because he is watching Lena lie to his sister about his whereabouts, and therefore completes the ‘idea’ of theatre-romance as a constituent element (Badiou, Handbook of Inaesthetics 74). There is an incorporeal (virtual) movement here of pure love in the theatre of romance that repotentialises the conditions of the event of love by producing a repeated and yet different contingency of the world. Wonder triggered by a lie manifest of a truth to-come. According to Badiou, the history of dance is “governed by the perpetual renewal of the relation between vertigo and exactitude. What will remain virtual, what will be actualized, and precisely how is the restraint going to free the infinite?” (Handbook of Inaesthetics 70). Importantly, Badiou suggests that theatrical production “is often the reasoned trial of chances” (Handbook of Inaesthetics 74). Another way to think the materiality of romance is as the event of love, but without Badiou’s necessary declaration of love (“What Is Love?” 45). Even though the ‘truth’ of the Two acts as quasi-cause, love as such remains a pure (‘incorporeal’) Virtuality. As a process, there is no “absolute disappearance or eclipse” that belongs to the love-encounter (“What Is Love?” 45), thus instead producing a rhythmic or, better, melodic heterogeneous tension between the love-dance and romance-theatre. The rhythm-melody of the virtual-actual cascade is distributed around aleatory contingencies as the event of love is differentially repeated and is therefore continually repotentialised and exhausted at the same time. A careful or graceful balance needs to be found between potentiality and exhaustion. The film contains many examples of this (re)potentialising tension, including when Lena achieves the wonder of the ‘encounter’ by orchestrating a meeting. Similarly, Barry feigns a ‘business trip’ to Hawaii to meet up with Lena. This is proceeded by the increased urgency of Barry’s manipulation of the frequent flyer miles reward to meet with up with Lena. The tension is affective – both anxious and exciting – and belongs to the lived duration of contingency. In the same way as an actual material dance floor (or ‘theatre’ here) is repeated across multiple incorporeal dimensions of music’s virtuality through the repotentialisation of the dancer’s body, the multiple dimensions of love are repeated across the virtuality of the lovers’ actions through the repotentialisation of the conditions of the event of love. Punch-Drunk Love frames this problematic of romance by way of a second movement that follows the trajectory of the main character Barry. Barry is a depressive with an affect regulation problem. He flies into a rage whenever a childhood incident is mentioned and becomes anxious or ‘scared’ (as one sister described him) when in proximity to Lena. He tries to escape from the oppressive intimacy of his family. He plays with ‘identity’ in a childlike manner by dressing up as a businessman and wearing the blue suit. His small business is organised around selling plungers used to unblock toilets to produce flow. Indeed, Barry is defined by the blockages and flows of desire. His seven-sister over-Oedipalised familial unit continually operates as an apparatus of capture, a phone-sex pervert scam seeks to overcode desire in libidinal economy that becomes exploited in circuits of axiomatised shame (like an online dating site?), and a consumer rewards program that offers the dream of a frequent-flyer million-miles (line of) flight out of it all. ‘Oedipal’ in the expanded sense Deleuze and Guattari give the term as a “displaced or internalised limit where desire lets itself be caught. The Oedipal triangle is the personal and private territoriality that corresponds to all of capitalism’s efforts at social reterritorialisation” (266). Barry says he wants to ‘diversify’ his business, which is not the same thing as ‘expanding’ or developing an already established commercial interest. He does not have a clear idea of what domain or type of business he wants to enter into when diversifying. When he speaks to business contacts or service personnel on the phone he attempts to connect with them on a level of intimacy that is uncomfortably inappropriate for impersonal phone conversations. The inappropriate intimacy comes back to haunt him, of course, when a low-level crook attempts to extort money from him after Barry calls a phone sex line. The romance between Lena and Barry develops through a series of accident-contingencies that to a certain extent ‘unblocks’ Barry and allows him to connect with Lena (who also changes). Apparent contingencies that are not actually contingencies need to be explained as such (‘dropping car off’, ‘beat up bathrooms’, ‘no actual business in Hawaii’, ‘phone sex line’, etc.). Upon their first proper conversation a forklift in Barry’s business crashes into boxes. Barry calls the phone sex line randomly and this leads to the severe car crash towards the end of the film. The interference of Barry’s sisters occurs in an apparently random unexpected manner – either directly or indirectly through the retelling of the ‘gayboy’ story. Lastly, the climatic meeting in Hawaii where the two soon-to-be-lovers are framed by silhouette, their bodies meet not in an embrace but a collision. They emerge as if emitted from the throngs of the passing crowd. Barry has his hand extended as if they were going to shake and there is an audible grunt when their bodies collide in an embrace. To love is to endure the violence of a creative temporality, such as the production of harmony from heterogeneity. As Badiou argues, love cannot be a fusional relation between the two to make the one, nor can it be the relation of the Same to the Other, this is because the differential repetition of the conditions of love through the material practice of romance already effaces such distinctions. This is the crux of the matter: The maximum violence in the plot of Punch-Drunk Love is not born by Lena, even though she ends up in hospital, but by Barry. (Is this merely a masculinist reading of traditional male on male violence? Maybe, and perhaps why rsvp.com.au woman read it different to me.) What I am trying to get at is the positive or creative violence of the two movements within the plot – of the romance and of Barry’s depressive social incompetence – intersect in such a way to force Barry to renew himself as himself. Barry’s explosive fury belongs to the paradox of trying to ‘mind his own business’ while at the same time ‘diversifying’. The moments of violence directed against the world and the ‘glass enclosures’ of his subjectivity are transversal actualisations of the violence of love (on function of ‘glass’ in the film see King). (This raises the question, perhaps irrelevant, regarding the scale of Badiou’s conception of truth-events. After Foucault and Deleuze, why isn’t ‘life’ itself a ‘truth’ event (for Badiou’s position see Briefings on Existence 66-68)? For example, are not the singularities of Barry’s life also the singularities of the event of love? Is the post-evental ‘decision’ supposed to always axiomatically subtract the singular truth-supplement from the stream of singularities of life? Why…?) The violence of love is given literal expression in the film in the ‘pillow talk’ dialogue between Barry and Lena: Barry: I’m sorry, I forgot to shave. Lena: Your face is so adorable. Your skin and your cheek… I want to bite it. I want to bite on your cheek and chew on it, you’re so fucking cute. Barry: I’m looking at your face and I just wanna smash it. I just wanna fucking smash it with a sledgehammer and squeeze you, you’re so pretty… Lena: I wanna chew your face off and scoop out your eyes. I wanna eat them and chew them and suck on them… Barry: [nodding] Ok…yes, that’s funny… Lena: Yeah… Barry: [still nodding] This’s nice. What dismayed or perhaps intrigued Baudrillard about Crash was its mixing of bodies and technologies in a kind of violent eroticism where “everything becomes a hole to offer itself to the discharge reflex” (112). On the surface this exchange between Barry and Lena is apparently an example of such violent eroticism. For Baudrillard the accident is a product of the violence of technology in the logistics of bodies and signs which intervene in relations in such a way to render perversity impossible (as a threshold structuration of the Symbolic) because ‘everything’ becomes perverse. However, writer and director of Punch-Drunk Love, Paul Anderson, produces a sense of the wondrous (‘Punch-Drunk’) violence that is at the heart of love. This is not because of the actual violence of individual characters; in the film this only serves as a canvas of action to illustrate the intrinsic violence of contingency. Lena and Barry’s ‘pillow talk’ not so much as a dance but a case of the necessary theatre capturing the violence and restraint of love’s virtual dance. ‘Violence’ (in the sense it is used above) also describes the harmonic marshalling of the heterogeneous materiality of sound affected by the harmonium. The ‘violence’ of the harmonium is decisively expressed through the coalescence of the diegetic and nondiegetic soundtracks at the end of the film when Barry plays the harmonium concurrently with Jon Brion’s score for the film. King notes, the “diegetic and nondiegetic music playing together is a moment of cinematic harmony; Barry, Lena, and the harmonium are now in sync” (par. 19). The notes of music connect different diegetic and nondiegetic series which pivot around new possibilities. As Deleuze writes about the notes played at a concert, they are “pure Virtualities that are actualized in the origins [of playing], but also pure Possibilities that are attained in vibrations or flux [of sound]” (The Fold 91). Following Deleuze further (The Fold 146-157), the horizontal melodic movement of romance forms a diagonal or transversal line with the differentially repeated ‘harmonic’ higher unity of love. The unity is literally ‘higher’ to the extent it escapes the diegetic confines of the film itself. For Deleuze “harmonic unity is not that of infinity, but that which allows the existent to be thought of as deriving from infinity” (The Fold 147, ital. added). While Barry is playing the harmonium in this scene Lena announces, “So here we go.” These are the final words of the film. In Badiou’s philosophy this is a declaration of the truth of love. Like the ‘higher’ non/diegetic harmony of the harmonium, the truth of love “composes, compounds itself to infinity. It is thus never presented integrally. All knowledge [of romance] relative to this truth [of the Two, as quasi-cause] thus disposes itself as an anticipation” (“What is Love?” 49). Romance is therefore lived as a vertiginous state of anticipation of love’s harmony. The materiality of romance does not simply consist of two people coming together and falling in love. The ‘fall’ functions as a fatalistic myth used to inscribe bodies within the eschatological libidinal economies of ‘romantic comedies’. To anneal Baudrillard’s lament, perversity obviously still has a positive Symbolic function on the internet, especially online dating sites where anticipation can be modulated through the probabilistic manipulation of signs. In post-romance, the ‘encounter’ of love necessarily remains, but it is the contingency of this encounter that matters. The main characters in Punch-Drunk Love are continually arrayed through the contingencies of love. I have linked this to Badiou’s notion of the event of love, but have focused on what I have called the materiality of romance. The materiality of romance requires more than a ‘fall’ induced by a probabilistic encounter, and yet it is not the declaration of a truth. The post-evental truth procedure of love is impossible in post-romance romance because there is no ‘after’ or ‘supplement’ to an event of love; there is only the continual rhythm of romance and anticipation of the impossible. It is not a coincidence that the Snow Patrol lyrics that serve above as an epigraph resonate with Deleuze’s comment that a change in the situation of Leibnizian monads has occurred “between the former model, the closed chapel with imperceptible openings… [to] the new model invoked by Tony Smith [of] the sealed car speeding down the dark highway” (The Fold 157). Post-Crash post-romance romance unfolds like the driving-monad in an aleatory pursuit of accidents. That is, to care for the event of love is not to announce the truth of the Two, but to pursue the differential repetition of the conditions of love’s (im)possible contingency. This exquisite and beautiful care is required for the contingency of love to be maintained. Hence, the post-romance problematic of romance thus posited as the material practice of repeating the wonder at the heart of love. References Badiou, Alain. Briefings on Existence: A Short Treatise on Transitory Ontology. Trans. Norman Madrasz. Albany, New York: State U of New York P, 2006. ———. Handbook of Inaesthetics. Trans. Alberto Toscano. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford UP, 2005. ———. “What Is Love?” Umbr(a) 1 (1996): 37-53. Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1994. Crawford, Kate. Adult Themes: Rewriting the Rules of Adulthood. Sydney: Macmillan, 2006. Deleuze, Gilles. The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1993. ———. The Logic of Sense. Trans. Mark Laster and Charles Stivale. European Perspectives. Ed. Constantin V. Boundas. New York: Columbia UP, 1990. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1983. Foucault, Michel. “Theatricum Philosophicum.” Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews. Ed. D. F. Bouchard. New York: Cornell UP, 1977. 165-96. King, Cubie. “Punch Drunk Love: The Budding of an Auteur.” Senses of Cinema 35 (2005). Citation reference for this article MLA Style Fuller, Glen. "Punch-Drunk Love: A Post-Romance Romance." M/C Journal 10.3 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/03-fuller.php>. APA Style Fuller, G. (Jun. 2007) "Punch-Drunk Love: A Post-Romance Romance," M/C Journal, 10(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/03-fuller.php>.