Articles de revues sur le sujet « Antonio Sacco »

Abstract Immunological predictors of nodal response in breast cancer patients undergoing neoadjuvant therapy Maria Luisa Gasparri1, Ilary Ruscito2, Filippo Bellati2, Fabio Corsi3, Rosa Di Micco4, Oreste D. Gentilini4, Thorsten Kuehn5, Andrea Papadia1, Donatella Caserta2, Lorenzo Rossi6, Arianna Calcinotto7 1 Department of Gynecology and Obstetrics, Ente Ospedaliero Cantonale, Ospedale Regionale di Lugano, Lugano, Switzerland 2 Department of Medical and Surgical Science and Translational Medicine, Sapienza University of Rome, Azienda Ospedaliera Sant’Andrea, Rome, Italy 3 Breast Unit, Department of Surgery, Istituti Clinici Scientifici Maugeri IRCCS, Pavia, Italy; Department of Biomedical and Clinical Sciences "Luigi Sacco", Università di Milano, Milan, Italy 4 Breast Surgery Unit, San Raffaele University Hospital, Milan, Italy 5 Interdisciplinary Breast Center, Department of Gynecology and Obstetrics, Klinikum Esslingen, Esslingen, Germany 6 Oncology Institute of Southern Switzerland, Bellinzona, Switzerland 7 Cancer Immunotherapy lab, IOR Institute of Oncology Research, Bellinzona, Switzerland Background: Almost 20% of breast cancer patients present at diagnosis with clinically positive nodes. Most of these patients undergo neoadjuvant therapy in order to de-escalate the axillary surgery in case of response (sentinel lymph node biopsy, targeted axillary dissection or targeted axillary dissection, instead of an axillary lymphadenectomy). The conversion from positive to negative nodes after neoadjuvant therpy is expected in approximately the 60% of the cases, depending by tumor subtypes. Several models have been proposed with the goal of identifying predictors of nodal response prior to neoadjuvant treatment. The immune system plays a pivotal role in cancer invasion and progression. Its role in treatment response is currently under investigation in several settings. Primary endpoint: to identify a preoperative immune profiling of breast cancer patients with nodal involvement at diagnosis and to correlate the immune changes after neoadjuvant therapy with the nodal response (macrometastases, micrometastasis, isolated tumor cells, complete response). Trial design: It is an international prospective cohort study including breast cancer patients undergoing standard neoadjuvant therapy, who present initially with biopsy-proven axillary lymph node metastasis. Ten immune markers will be analyzed using immunohistochemistry and tissue microarray in primary tumor and nodal tissue samples (tumor associated neutrophils, CD4 lymphocytes, CD8 lymphocytes, T regulatory cells, Macrophages, Follicular dendritic cells(DC), plasmocytoid DC, interdigitant DC, mature DC, Lysosomal associated membrane protein 3). The tissue analysis will be performed on the biopsy collected at diagnosis (prior to neoadjuvant therapy) and during the axillary surgery (after neoadjuvant therapy). Target accrual/sample size: 210 patients Statistical analysis: To compare the distribution of immune cells according to the state of lymph node metastasis, Student’s t test will be performed. Pearson’s chi-square test will be used to evaluate the correlation between immune profile and nodal response, based on clinic-pathological features. Odds ratios (ORs) and 95% confidence intervals (CIs) will be calculated using logistic regression analysis. Multivariable analysis will be performed using the multivariable logistic regression model. Logistic regression models will be used to identify the clinical, pathologic and immunological variables associated with the nodal response. P-values less than 0.05 will be considered significant. Analyses will be performed using Microsoft IBM SPSS® version 20.0 for Mac. Current status: Recruitment has not started yet. Contact information: marialuisa.gasparri@eoc.ch Citation Format: Maria Luisa Gasparri, Ilary Ruscito, Filippo Bellati, Fabio Corsi, Rosa Di Micco, Oreste Davide Gentilini, Thorsten Kuehn, Andrea Papadia, Donatella Caserta, Lorenzo Rossi, Arianna Calcinotto. Immunological predictors of nodal response in breast cancer patients undergoing neoadjuvant therapy [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 2022 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium; 2022 Dec 6-10; San Antonio, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(5 Suppl):Abstract nr OT3-12-01.

En el actual estudio, leo una carta publicada por el intelectual cubano José Antonio Saco en 1829 al lado de las Réflexions sur la question juive (1946) de Jean-Paul Sartre, ya que encuentro que las tesis centrales de estos dos ensayos tienen varios puntos de contacto. El ensayo de Sartre y su recepción, por otra parte, ayudará a deslindar dónde la carta de Saco anticipa la teoría crítica de la raza que surge posteriormente y varios casos en los cuales, a pesar de su perspicacia, Saco se equivoca. Habiendo resumido estas intersecciones, adopto la intervención ética de Emmanuel Levinas y sugiero que fue la relación empírica de cara a cara del cubano con un judío en Nueva York lo que motivó su meditación abierta y no convencional sobre el odio hacia el judío; en otras palabras, además de enseñarle inglés, el tutor judío de Saco le enseñó que, como decía Levinas, “puede existir un yo que no sea un yo mismo”.

Este trabajo propone una aproximación a la historiografía urbana en Toscana durante la Baja Edad Media. Su cronística se interpreta como resultado de dos fenómenos: la consolidación de Florencia como autoridad política hegemónica en la región y como principal foco cultural del humanismo italiano. Cada epígrafe está dedicado a las historias realizadas sobre una ciudad concreta, interpretándose el contexto de su elaboración, la relación existente entre el autor y los hechos narrados, las características literarias de la obra, su contenido, y las posibilidades y límites que ofrecen para el conocimiento histórico. El catálogo de autores y obras incluye una tipología de las mismas en función de la cronología abordada (periodizaciones acotadas, historias universales y sucesos concretos). Asimismo se precisa los métodos y técnicas de elaboración histórica empleados por los cronistas, y sus esfuerzos humanistas en el tratamiento de las fuentes y por conseguir un estilo literario de inspiración clásica.The aim of this article is to offer a closest view of the urban chronicles made in the Toscana during the transition from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance. The analysis is both historiographic and historic in order to achieve a better comprehension of these Works, taking into account the political evolution of the region and the cultural background that defines it. There for it must be kept in mind that during the Late Medieval Ages Florence gradually grows stronger as the govern authority within the region, as well as the main role in the Italian Humanism.Each one of the sections in this article studies one city. The first one studies the case of Florence, followed by the other cities in the Toscana: Arezzo, Pisa, Pistoia, Prat, San Miniato, Sienna (only city that stays away from the Florentine sovereignty, remaining as a republic) and Volterra. In each case it is studied the historic, institutional and cultural reality surrounding the redaction of the chronicles, the relation between the author and the facts he relates, the literary aspect of the chronicles, in addition its content is summarized, and finally the opportunities and boundaries that the chronicles can offer to the historic knowledge is valued.The chronicles are also classified attending to its characterization. A first differentiation appears when focusing into the way the chronicles deal with the information: some offer just statements that contain the news, with no explanatory recounting, in order to achieve objectivity (Annali Fiorentini, Annali Pisani, Annali Arretonirum); other are detailed essay containing the author’s most intimate feelings (Giovanni de Bonis, Baldasarre Boniaiuti, Antonio Ivani da Sarzana); and there are also Works that join together the explanatory narration with the transcription of public documents from the Comune (Giovanni Villani, Leonardo Bruni, Matteo Palmieri). In order to study this last type of chronicles its been followed the methodology by G. Arnaldi and M. Zabbia about the notary-chronicler, his academic education and notarial work, which leads them to act as attestor and to recount History based in reliable documentation.Another classification can be made according to the chronological period in each chronicle. The Universal Histories go back to the city founding during mythological era and ancient times; they have the most original historical conception, offering chronological frameworks, interpretations and purely humanistic styles (Ricordano Malispini, Baldasarre Bonaiuti, Giovanni Villano, Leonardo Bruni, Niccolò Machiavelli). On the other hand, the cronache cittadine focus in a very precise period and, mostly, contemporary to the writing (Bartolomeo di ser Gorello, Raniero Granchi, Gregorio Dati, Paolo di Tommaso Montauri, Domenico Buoninsegni, Sozomeno da Pistoia, Tommaso Fecini, Francesco Guicciardini). Finally, the ricordanze analyse a very specific and exceptional event (Alamanno Acciaioli, Luigi Guicciardini, Simone Peruzzi, Guccio Benvenuti, Antonio Ivani da Sarzana, Bastiano, Francesco Pezzati, Guasparri Spadari); belonging to this last group there are also some rhymed pieces (Carmen in victoriam Pisanorum, Ricordi di Firenze in 1459, Sacco di Prato de Stefano Guizzalotti). Besides all these chronicle types there are some others in the form of diaries and domestic chronicles (Ugolino di Niccolò Martelli, Matteo Castellani, Filippo Rinuccini).Finally the study focus in the methods and techniques used by the chroniclers in the elaboration of History. They make a record of what they see or know through probative testimonies (oral or written), valuing the document as a source for the elaboration of History. Besides the humanistic way in which the chroniclers handle the sources, they also make an effort to achieve a literary style of classic inspiration.

Pequena biografía de Juan A. Saco Arce, con especial atención á súa formación académica e humanística. Baseándose na súa dobre titulación e na súa polifacética obra tan extensa, como gramático, como investigador da literatura e do folclore galegos e como poeta, o autor trata de presentalo como personaxe fundamental do Rexurdimento galego. O seu pouco recoñecemento como tal explícase pola brevidade da súa vida, que non lle permitiu ver fóra do prelo máis ca unha parte da súa obra e porque en boa medida os escritos que amosan os seus méritos non son creacións literarias dirixidas ó gran público, senón traballos de crítica, investigación e científicos sobre a lingua galega e o emprego dela naquela altura polos literatos e falantes, feito que limita grandemente a súa difusión popular.

El Museo de Arte Sacro de la Diócesis de Teruel se encuentra dentro del Palacio Episcopal de Teruel. Su colección se distribuye en cuatro salas, con una ordenación de las obras expuestas basada en su mensaje religioso. Destacan sus conjuntos de pintura mural, escultura medieval y orfebrería, y las obras del pintor valenciano Antonio Bisquert y del escultor Mariano Benlluire. Tras las œltimas reformas del edificio, el museo dispone de salas de restauración, investigación y de recursos audiovisuales. En su patio interior cubierto se celebran exposiciones temporales, conciertos y recitales

El escritor y lingüista Marcial Valladares (1821-1903) fue también artífice de una de las primeras colecciones de literatura popular realizadas en Galicia en el siglo XIX. Pese a que a que no se publicó en un volumen en su momento, puede decirse que gozó de cierta difusión gracias a que el mismo usó las coplas y refranes por el transcritos como autoridad lingüística en su reconocido Diccionario gallego-castellano (1884); pero igualmente porque se mostró generoso cediendo esa completa y variada colección manuscrita a aquellos estudiosos del folclore español y gallego que solicitaron su colaboración. Este artículo explora y analiza su aportación a los trabajos y colecciones de Manuel Murguía, Antonio Machado y Álvarez, Juan A. Saco Arce, Francisco Rodríguez Marín, Casto Sampedro, José Pérez Ballesteros, Antonio de la Iglesia y Alfredo Brañas. Además, este examen va a permitirnos realizar un viaje historiográfico por las investigaciones folclóricas más determinantes del siglo XIX.

As obras de Antoni Gaudí possuem características únicas, com elementos que unem o sacro e o gótico. O escritor Carlos Ruiz Zafón se conecta à cidade de Barcelona e Gaudí pela maneira como condiciona as ações dos personagens em torno da arquitetura, dos monumentos, da história e da cultura da cidade. Esse artigo pretende analisar o modo como a cidade de Barcelona, retratada por Gaudí através de suas obras arquitetônicas, é transmidiada na tetralogia El Cementerio de los Libros Olvidados, de Carlos Ruiz Zafón, por meio da conjunção da história dos personagens com a paisagem, obras e prédios históricos da cidade.

The empire of absolutist Spain haunted the debates over the empire of liberal Spain. To take one example, José Arias y Miranda, an unemployed civil servant who would later work as the librarian for the Ministerio de Ultramar (Overseas Ministry), responded to the Real Academia de la Historia's query on the effects of the American empire on Spain's economy and society in words that would have been familiar to a seventeenth-century arbitrista. After reviewing America's drain on the sparse Spanish population and the corrupting effects of gold, silver, and land on Spanish work habits, Arias y Miranda concluded ‘that America was […] the determining cause of Spain's decadence’.

Utilizando datos de orden textual, paleográfico, codicológico e histórico se examina en primer lugar la historia del manuscrito platónico Escur. Ψ I 1 desde su confección en Corfú a cargo de Demetrio Triboles en 1461-1462 hasta su adquisición por parte de Antonio Agustín a mediados del s. XVI. Tras analizar las fuentes textuales del códice y la dinámica de la copia, se concluye, a través del examen de los inventarios de la Biblioteca Vaticana, que el manuscrito formó parte de los fondos de esa biblioteca hasta el Saco de Roma de 1527. Se demuestra asimismo que otro códice platónico conservado en El Escorial, Escur. y I 13, procede también de la Biblioteca Vaticana, de donde desapareció igualmente con motivo del Saco antes de ser adquirido por Juan Páez de Castro. Se intenta además demostrar que tanto el Escur. Ψ I 1 como el Escur. y I 13 formaban parte de los fondos de la Vaticana ya desde 1475. Basing on textual, palaeographic, codicological and historic evidence, this paper firstly examines the history of the Platonic manuscript Escur. Ψ I 1 since its making in Corfu by Demetrios Triboles in 1461-62 till its purchase by Antonio Agustín in the middle of the 16th century. The textual sources of this codex and the copying process are also analysed. The conclusion reached through the examination of inventories in the Vatican Library is that the manuscript belonged to that library till the Sack of Rome in 1527. Secondly, this paper proves that another Platonic codex kept in El Escorial, Escur. y I 13, comes as well from the Vatican Library, from where it disappeared on the occasion of the Sack, and was later purchased by Juan Páez de Castro. Additionally, an attempt is made to prove that both Escur. Ψ I 1 and Escur. y I 13 belonged to the Vatican Library as early as 1475.

En 1987, Juan Pablo II visita la Argentina y pide a los laicos que se comprometan con la educación y la cultura. Con la anuencia de monseñor Antonio Quarracino, arzobispo de La Plata, se crea la Cátedra de Arquitectura Sacra en la carrera de Arquitectura de la UCALP. El desafío fue —y sigue siendo— que los alumnos comprendan las necesidades del espacio sacro católico, reforzando la doctrina y los conceptos arquitectónicos. Mediante un programa que se perfeccionó a lo largo de los años, se aborda la investigación, el estudio, la reflexión, el acompañamiento docente y el hacer arquitectura. Todo ello tiene como objetivo que el alumno, alumbrado por el Evangelio, logre diseñar un edificio con la comprensión cabal del concepto iglesia. Esta búsqueda académica y personal de los educandos se refleja en anteproyectos de arquitectura construibles, que sintetizan la impronta estética y resolutiva de cada uno de ellos.

Este trabajo analiza las restauraciones de la Basílica de Santa María de Elche durante el siglo XX incluyendo las causas que provocaron dichas intervenciones. Este monumento alberga la re-presentación del “Misteri” representación sacro-lírica catalogada como Patrimonio Inmaterial de la Humanidad. Los terremotos de 1746 y 1829 aumentaron los daños estructurales que ya presentaba el edificio desde su construcción. En la restauración realizada entre 1903 y 1907 por el arquitecto Marceliano Coquillat i Llofriu se sustituyó la cúpula y cubierta introduciendo el hierro en sus nue-vas estructuras. Se convirtió en una de las primeras obras de restauración monumental del levante español donde se han empleado estructuras mixtas de hierro y ladrillo. El incendio de 1936 provocó graves daños dando lugar a otra gran restauración dirigida por Antonio Serrano Peral quien intro-dujo atados en la base de la cúpula y sustituyó las bóvedas de la nave y crucero.

El presente artículo examina la génesis de El prodigio de Alemania (1634), obra teatral de Calderón de la Barca y Antonio Coello que lleva a escena la destitución y posterior asesinato de Albrecht von Wallenstein, generalísimo del Sacro Imperio Romano Germánico acusado de conspiración durante la Guerra de los Treinta Años. La obra, representada unas semanas después del asesinato, se constituye como una respuesta a los inesperados acontecimientos que rodearon los últimos meses de vida del militar y que obligaron a intervenir a Felipe IV y al conde-duque de Olivares con el afán de no perder la reputación que habían alcanzado en los últimos años. El artículo propone que la obra nace con el objetivo de erigirse en defensa pública de Olivares y su política internacional, y de usar el teatro como arma de propaganda que convierta a un militar aplaudido por todos en un enemigo del imperio, cuya muerte servirá para mantener viva una contienda que supondrá el principio del fin de la influencia de España como potencia europea.

El presente trabajo de investigación, con un claro carácter interdisciplinar, se focaliza en un estudio donde se han combinado datos histórico‐artísticos junto a una extensa documentación radiográfica, más un amplio estudio estratigráfico y químico mediante Microscopía óptica y Microscopia electrónica de barrido. Todo ello sobre un conjunto de ocho lienzos de la producción artística del pintor Antonio Bisquert en la ciudad de Teruel. Las obras analizadas en este artículo se encuentran localizadas tanto en el Museo de Arte Sacro de Teruel, como en diferentes iglesias de esa misma localidad. Tanto los resultados obtenidos de las imágenes radiográficas como los que ofrecen las pruebas analíticas conforman un compendio inédito de lo que se refleja en todo el proceso creativo y su génesis, revelando atribuciones contrastadas y el empleo de posteriores retoques considerados como no originales, que fueron ejecutados por una misma mano en una misma época. Todos estos datos generan un gran interés para el reconocimiento y puesta en valor de la obra de este olvidado pintor.

Con la muerte del historiador cubano Manuel R. Moreno Fraginals a los ochenta años el pasado mes de mayo, la profesión ha perdido una de sus voces más singulares. Empresario, académico, abogado y revolucionario, la carrera de Moreno Fraginals abarca una variada gama de profesiones y países. Con 22 años obtuvo su título de Derecho en la Universidad de La Habana y poco tiempo después se marchó a El Colegio de México, donde se graduó en Historia en 1948. Volvió a Cuba al año siguiente y durante un tiempo trabajó en la Biblioteca Nacional. En ese período comenzaron a aparecer sus primeras publicaciones sobre la historia nacional cubana. De esos primeros trabajos, el más sobresaliente es su ensayo José Antonio Saco. Estudio y bibliografía, publicado en 1953. En los primeros años cincuenta dejó por un tiempo su actividad académica y se convirtió en empresario en Venezuela, pero a raíz del triunfo de Fidel Castro en 1959 volvió a Cuba y se dedicó ya totalmente a la investigación histórica.

Este estudio, dividido en seis capítulos, abre con las palabras de “la figura del hombre del conocimiento”, Antonio Analco Sevilla, tiempero de San Nicolás de los Ranchos, en Xalitzintla, Puebla, una de las comunidades ubicadas en las inmediaciones del volcán Popocatépetl. Su relato comienza en la infancia, cuando tuvo su primer encuentro y comunicación onírica con el volcán, Gregorio Chino Popocatépetl, y con la volcana, Rosita. Desde ese momento, el sueño fue el medio para aprender el saber ancestral. En los episodios siguientes, cinco especialistas del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia y de la Escuela Nacional de Antropología e Historia analizan la labor de Antonio como mediador entre las entidades naturales y Xalitzintla, pero también su labor en los pueblos aledaños a don Goyo, donde la siembra necesita la lluvia. Mediante una etnografía del ascenso a “el ombligo” del volcán, la ofrenda y ceremonia comunitarias, las plegarias, la comida y la fiesta, de acuerdo al ciclo ritual agrícola, somos testigos de las fechas importantes vinculadas con las entidades de la tierra, en las que el pueblo celebra al volcán. Un pasaje del texto está dedicado a la Matlalcueye o “Malinche”, para poner de manifiesto que la veneración a los cerros pervive en el valle poblano-tlaxcalteca y forma parte de la cosmovisión mesoamericana. Incluye también una breve historia de la religión mesoamericana concretizada en el evento de petición de lluvias en la huasteca veracruzana, un dossier fotográfico que ilustra, entre otras cosas, algunos episodios de la ceremonia, monumentos, trazos arquitectónicos y representaciones antiguas asociadas al agua. El texto finaliza con el análisis el territorio, su simbolismo sagrado, el espacio y las concepciones por las cuales está constituido, con el objetivo de mostrar cómo los espacios son emblemáticos, pues los seres sobrenaturales moran y se revelan en mitos y creencias. Por ello, el carácter sacro del culto a los cerros es de renovación constante entre entidades y hombres.

Abstract Introduction: Loss-of-heterozygosity (LOH) events in chromosome 6p, comprising the human leukocyte antigen (HLA) genes, have been reported in about 10% of cutaneous melanoma (compared to 20-40% of squamous cell carcinomas), while copy number gains in this region have been observed in over 50% of melanoma. Recent studies focused in HLA allelic loss have been restricted to DNA-based approaches, and have not been validated orthogonally at the RNA or protein levels. Here, using clinical melanoma biopsies and patient-derived melanoma cell lines, we show that genetic alterations in HLA genes results in imbalanced allele expression, subsequently skewing antigen presentation by melanoma cells. Methods: Whole exome and RNA sequencing (WES, RNAseq) analyses were performed on 760 melanoma biopsies and 60 patient-derived melanoma cell lines. Patient-matched normal WES was used to perform HLA haplotyping across Class I and II HLA genes. Tumor WES was analyzed for copy number alterations in chromosome 6, identifying which alleles were lost or gained. Differential expression of HLA alleles was quantified in tumor RNAseq, correlating the allelic imbalance at the DNA and RNA levels. Melanoma cell lines heterozygous for HLA-A*02, A*03, and A*24 were analyzed by flow cytometry for surface-level HLA protein expression using allele-specific antibodies to quantify allelic densities and compare the imbalance of HLA-A alleles at the DNA, RNA, and protein levels. Results: Across 760 melanoma biopsies, copy number alterations in chromosome 6p were identified in 76% of tumors; 12% had LOH, and 54% had copy number gains that resulted in imbalanced copies of alleles. In paired tumor WES and RNAseq (N=682), genetic imbalance was correlated with imbalanced expression of HLA alleles in the classical Class I HLA genes (Spearman rho=0.64-0.7; p=2.2e-16); this association was strengthened in tumors with high tumor cellularity, and was not associated with the total expression of the HLA genes.These patterns were explored in a 60 patient-derived melanoma cell lines with matched tumor WES and RNAseq, confirming that alleles gained at the genetic level were also expressed at higher levels than alleles that were not gained or lost. In 10 cell lines heterozygous for either HLA-A*02, A*03, or A*24, allelic imbalance at the DNA and RNA level resulted in correlative imbalanced surface presentation of alleles at the protein level. Conclusions: Evaluation of paired tumor WES and RNAseq revealed orthogonal validation of HLA allelic imbalance, and analysis in cell lines suggested that these patterns were likely tumor intrinsic. Experimental validation of these findings at the protein level suggests that antigen presentation density can be modulated by chromosomal gains, and not just allelic loss, in HLA genes. This knowledge is important for the design of cancer vaccines or T cell therapies targeting neoantigens presented by HLA class I complexes. Citation Format: Katie M. Campbell, Justin Saco, Egmidio Medina, Meelad Amouzgar, Shannon M. Pfeiffer, Cynthia R. Gonzalez, Gabriela Steiner, Ameya Champhekar, Cristina Puig Saus, Jesse Zaretsky, Gabriel Abril Rodriguez, Agustin Vega-Crespo, Ignacio Baselga Carretero, Mito Tariveranmoshabad, Anusha Kalbasi, Christine Spencer, Zachary L. Skidmore, Malachi Griffith, Obi L. Griffith, Daniel K. Wells, Antoni Ribas. Infrequent chromosomal loss and recurrent gains lead to imbalanced expression of HLA genes in melanoma [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 3818.

Em dezembro de 2020, o escritor, poeta, tradutor e ensaísta Marco Lucchesi publicou três livros inéditos: Vestígios: diário filosófico, tecido por aforismos; Margens da Noite, uma seleção de poemas do romeno Ion Barbu, organizados e traduzidos por Lucchesi; e Cultura da Paz, um livro de ensaios em prosa poética. Tais lançamentos simultâneos não são obra de um fortuito acaso: ao contrário, de certa forma constelatórios, o tríptico de obras parece pretender configurar um determinado autorretrato de Lucchesi; cada uma de suas terças-partes, assim, seria como um fragmento-matriz de uma obra maior, evocando o verdadeiro rosto do autor, ou, em sentido menos metafísico, sua bibliografia mais atual. É claro que, uma vez que cada um desses livros possui um escopo e uma concepção distintos e muito bem delineados, inclusive na própria forma de sua escrita – aforismos; tradução de poesias; prosa poética, respectivamente –, eles podem perfeitamente serem apreciados em sua exclusividade; e isto somente porque, dentro da inteligência crítica e poética de seu autor, cada uma de suas terças-partes, fractalmente, se abre em menores e ainda mais absolutos e inteiriços retratos do devir Lucchesiano, ainda que dentro de seus próprios limites. O procedimento é, sobretudo, ético: tu n’es rien d’autre que ta vie, como já disse Sartre. Pois bem: com tais considerações em mente, esta resenha se propõe a comentar sobre o livro Vestígios.[1]Em seu memorial O Nariz do Morto, Antonio Carlos Villaça – autor caro a Lucchesi – narra a descoberta de sua vocação: “o destino seria escrever – exatamente, precisamente, escrever para não morrer”.[2] De maneira semelhante, em Vestígios, Lucchesi estrutura sobre aforismos sua própria vocação poética: a escrita como leitura do mundo, e a leitura de si como sua reescrita: o autor escreve e se reescreve, porque se lê, e porque contempla as coisas, e assim existe, moto perpetuo. Este duplo movimento, claro, sugere uma dupla busca, que de fato está a nervo exposto no labiríntico Vestígios; ao longo de suas páginas, de um lado Lucchesi convive consigo mesmo; revisita seus próprios passos, sua formação, sua juventude; pergunta a si mesmo pelo seu rosto de ontem, e estranha o que encontra. E de outro, prepara-se para o desconhecido porvir, seu perene vir-a-ser, os desafios de hoje, e do amanhã; arregimenta forças: Artaud, Dostoievski, Hölderlin, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Platão, Plotino, Descartes, Wittgenstein, e tantos, muitos outros – faço injustiça ao iniciar uma lista –, são costurados, explicados, traduzidos pela caligrafia mercurial de seu autor. Lucchesi contém multitudes: as vozes de Nise da Silveira, Milton Freire e Rubens Correa, os muitos duplos, fragmentários, as ideias, os amores, os livros, a infância recuperada, seus pais, que lhe transmitiram a preciosa língua de Dante Alighieri, e assim lhe permitiram todas as outras, a camoniana grande dor das coisas que passaram… ressoa, ressoa o basso ostinato[3] que guia o poeta. O que amas de verdade, permanece.[4]É preciso asseverar, aqui, que a escrita aforística é um gênero literário dificílimo e tradicionalmente à margem da noite ocidental das ideias, esse grande céu escuro e estrelado a que chamamos, tradicionalmente, de conhecimento. Nesse sentido, a capacidade constelatória que os aforismos reúnem, em seu conjunto labiríntico, singularmente dodecafônico, não oblitera a potência de sua individualidade; ao contrário, a emancipa. De modo que sua fragmentariedade não deixa de ser um elogio da incompletude, como nos escravos de Michelangelo ou como na melhor parte da literatura Frühromantik; vestígios, ruínas: memória e esquecimento, ou alegorias para uma outra ordem de liberdades. Por tudo isso, por reunir reflexão e ato poético na mesma (e justa) medida, trata-se de um verdadeiro diário filosófico, um percurso de pensamento e de poesia, e que se nos exige fôlego, nos recompensa imenso. Literatura.O adjetivo “labiríntico”, que reitero com ênfase, não é utilizado ao acaso ou por afetação do resenhista; segundo Ana Maria Haddad Baptista, a única forma de compreender, em sua abrangência, o conjunto de obras de Marco Lucchesi é através da concepção de uma “Estética do Labirinto, cujo fio de Ariadne é tecido pelo sublime. Fio de ouro que cintila. Eterno fascínio”.[5] E como o basso ostinato de Lucchesi sugere, o segredo de seu sublime é musical, quasi adamante che lo sol ferisse:[6] A Estética do Labirinto da literatura de Marco Lucchesi balança (...) a arquitetura do próprio labirinto, visto que a torna sonora e musical. Uma música que faz desmoronar os territórios e tremer a arquitetura (...) do labirinto. Sob tal ótica, nossas convicções abrem-se e dividem-se em intervalos. O Fio de Ariadne, neste caso, lança, relança, dança e define uma flutuação. (...) Tempo e memória pendulares, caudalosos, sinuosos, indissociáveis. Memórias musicais. Silêncios! Intervalos! Instantes! Duração! Proliferam-se as variáveis. Inclusive, variáveis independentes. Sutis! Enganosas! Armadilhas ardilosas (...) que somente um leitor atento poderá identificar (...).[7] A imagem de um “Fio de Ariadne” é preciosa em “Vestígios”, que, se não disfarça sua recusa a uma linearidade, também não prescinde de uma sugestão de movimento; de fato, seus aforismos parecem compor uma escrita ascensional, por paisagens cada vez mais rarefeitas. E sobretudo, críticas; autocríticas; investigativas e, consequentemente, dolorosas (“poesia: fogo, gesto, sangue, grito”, escreve o autor, a partir de Artaud). Mas se a imagem é ascensional (o último capítulo, não por acaso, se intitula “Céu Noturno”), e se a referência primeira e última, íntima, de Lucchesi é sempre il summo poeta – “fonte secreta no deserto por onde vago. Não me peçam água salobra!”[8] escreve, sobre Dante Alighieri –, então o ponto de partida deverá ser, necessariamente, ínfero. E assim o é; após o belo e profundamente metapoético primeiro capítulo, denominado “Círculo de Leitura”, onde desvela sua defesa da literatura, chamando atenção para a mística criativa que o ato da leitura encerra – “o coral dos leitores, atravessando os séculos, amplia o rumor das batalhas de Homero”[9] –, Lucchesi perscruta tanto os seus próprios abismos quanto a abissal contemporaneidade de nossas tantas pestes[10] e impossibilidades. É evidente que a urgência do escritor é também a nossa urgência, e que algo de sua batalha nos importa intimamente; vivemos uma tragédia moderna (ou contemporânea), isto é, sem catarse (“um buraco no céu” [11] na lição de Pirandello, recuperada pelo autor), e Lucchesi, inquieto, se volta com força e ímpeto para ela; perscruta suas raízes e, como poeta-demiurgo que é, faz da ubiquidade do desespero o seu material de criação: disegna, com os “Grafites do Trágico”.[12]Mas, seja por graça do sublime ou pelo que for, sopram alívios na jornada. Variadas Afrodites pairam sobre o escritor: “(...) a terra é fecunda. Crescem flores novas e pujantes”, anota, no capítulo “A Poesia de Wittgenstein”.[13] Lucchesi consulta Platão, e revisita sua afinidade com Plotino, “solitário, a sorver as primícias da contemplação”. E se reafirma como leitor-amante, como escritor de paixões, receptáculo do Ardor. Cartografa dimensões mais puras, mais líricas; oníricas: “Um mundo em ascensão. Desperta o sobrevoo de domínios transparentes. Esplende um sentimento vertical. Promessa de asas e altitude: Έπτερωμένος.”[14] O vocábulo grego indica um sentido de uma mensageria alada (asas nos pés), a qual possui, como em Novalis, uma finalidade sempre amorosa; no entanto, ela acontece na solitude, na paciência solitária de seu voo de si para si. E talvez seja esta a imagem do verdadeiro amante, se aproximando pouco a pouco da forma amada[15]: “O lema de Plotino: fugir de solidão em solidão (...) a nostalgia do Uno e as cercanias abissais”.[16] Confesso que, conforme o livro avança, neste modo dialógico consigo próprio que o autor desenvolve, em altitudes cada vez mais vorazes ao longo de seus aforismos, um sentimento persistente de beleza me invade, com a lembrança do pungente e longínquo Consolações da Filosofia, escrito por Boécio no século V; percebo uma semelhança na postura ética de ambos os pensadores, em face do terrível desagravo. E como em Boécio, as musas indicam o caminho e oferecem apoio para Marco Lucchesi, que nos acena enigmático, certamente sorrindo entre livros e pianos, de algum lugar de seu gabinete ocidental: A poesia de Wittgenstein não reside na elegância dos aforismos. Tampouco na distribuição dos volumes semânticos. Mas na ligação conceitual, quase inefável, que acerca as ilhas do Tractatus como um infinito arquipélago.[17] Há mais do que um mero jogo de espelhos aqui; se o Fio de Ariadne em Lucchesi é sempre o sublime, a melodia secreta de Vestígios é a convergência: “Convergem treva e luz no coração. Demasiada luz. Demasiada sombra”.[18] E mais além: “Não há distância em altitudes místicas. O que vai perto e o que vai longe se convertem”.[19] Esta conversão das distâncias se traduz em convergência de civilizações na cosmogonia do autor – e eis aí sua derradeira Babel: cultura da paz. Arguto, Lucchesi percebe o lampejo de tais traços na obra de René Descartes; resgata o pensador e recupera suas virtudes, emaciadas pelo uso vulgar do termo “cartesiano”, elogiando seu “vasto projeto cultural”.[20] Faz todo sentido: a síntese de Descartes (a geometria grega e a álgebra da tradição árabe) fala profundamente à própria história de Marco Lucchesi; nas palavras precisas de Marcia Fusaro, “poesia-tradução de mundos complementares.”[21] E coerentemente, o aceno a Descartes acontece como um sussurro de futuro: em Vestígios é nítida a aproximação que Lucchesi faz, e com muita consistência, da matemática como expressão rigorosa, porque abstrata, da Beleza e, portanto, do intangível: “Infinito gera infinito”[22]. Tudo converge, e portanto tudo se contamina com tudo.O ápice de Vestígios, seu movimento final, é “Céu Noturno”, o derradeiro capítulo. Depois de encarar as pestes, de desafiar diversos panteões, de conjurar o amor (sem a tentação simplificadora do famoso brocardo)[23], depois de rever “a vida inteira que podia ter sido e que não foi”,[24] e ainda assim, ter sido tanto, e com tanta estrada aberta para mais ainda; o que restaria ao escritor, ao retratista, ao matemático-em-formação, ao poeta-filósofo, senão as estrelas? “Pode-se perder tudo, desde que se continue a ser o que se é”, como ditara Goethe.[25] O Fio de Ariadne não nos abandonou: “Céu Noturno” é um capítulo completamente sublime, e é na realidade o capítulo do lugar do sublime. “Espanto e maravilha: irrompe a fresca madrugada nos ardentes domínios da insônia”,[26] escreve, sagitário, Marco Lucchesi. Abaixo, alguns dos sublimes aforismos finais do livro. E a pergunta lançada pelo autor, que repercuto para o sensível leitor: quem não suspira pela grande síntese?[27] A intensa albedo de Júpiter capturou-me. O prodigioso alvor feminino. Tarefa de quem sonha é desenhar o céu.[28] A erótica do espaço em Itacoatiara. O insaciável abraço dos montes. A luz de Vênus frente a cercania dos corpos.[29] Amo as nebulosas de Órion e Cabeça de Cavalo. E o Saco de Carvão, em α da Cruz. Se me pedissem o endereço do sublime, diria sem hesitar M-8 e M-55. Fronteira de Escorpião com Sagitário.[30] [1] Vestígios foi lançado somente em e-book, pela Tesseract Editorial.[2] VILLAÇA, Antonio Carlos. O Nariz do Morto, p. 39.[3]“Baixo obstinado” ou basso ostinato é uma figura musical da música pautada, clássica, para a presença contínua e ritmada de notas graves durante a execução de um compasso musical ou de uma peça inteira. Marco Lucchesi utiliza o termo em seu prólogo aludindo a uma imagem orgânica da coesão de seus escritos (cf. Vestígios, p. 13). A mesma expressão fora utilizada pelo autor no prólogo de sua obra Carteiro Imaterial, livro de ensaios publicado em 2016 pela Ed. José Olympio (p. 9).[4] POUND apud VILLAÇA, op. cit., p. 12 (tradução de Antonio Carlos Villaça).[5] BAPTISTA, Ana Maria Haddad. “Estética do Labirinto-Tempo-Memória na literatura de Marco Lucchesi”. In: Estética da Labirinto: a poética de Marco Lucchesi, p. 12.[6] ALIGHIERI apud LUCCHESI, Vestígios, p. 56 (a referência é o Canto II, 33 do Paradiso).[7] BAPTISTA, op. cit., pp. 12, 13[8] LUCCHESI, op. cit., p. 53. Obs.: deste momento em diante, todas as citações entre aspas serão notações diretas de Vestígios, a não ser que diferentemente apontado.[9] p. 17.[10] Faço uma alusão direta ao terceiro capítulo de Vestígios, intitulado “A Peste”.[11] pp. 35, 36.[12] Alusão ao quarto capítulo de Vestígios, intitulado “Os Grafites do Trágico”.[13] p. 65.[14] p. 50.[15] Cito, ladinamente, o próprio Marco Lucchesi aqui. Vestígios, p. 50.[16] p. 50.[17] p. 66.[18] p. 55.[19] p. 57.[20] p. 60.[21] FUSARO, Marcia. “A Flauta, A Lua e As Cartas”. In: Estética da Labirinto: a poética de Marco Lucchesi, p. 30.[22] p. 60.[23] Omnia vincit amor.[24] Bandeira, Manuel. Estrela da Vida Inteira, p. 107.[25] GOETHE apud VILLAÇA, op. cit., p. 12.[26] p. 76.[27] p. 78.[28] Idem.[29] Idem.[30] P. 79.

Seggundo a Retórica Clássica, as figuras de estilo, tais como a antítese, a hipérbole e a metáfora, dentre outras, na medida em que contribuem para o movere - ao suscitar uma emoção, o docere - ao transmitir um conhecimento, e o delectare - ao proporcionar prazer, são também retóricas, por exprimirem argumentos, condensando-os e tornando-os mais expressivos. Desse modo, o presente artigo incursiona pela utilização da metáfora nos sermões de Antonio Vieira, como criadora de sentido, com o objetivo de identificar sua natureza e função. Desse modo, visualiza a metáfora não apenas como elemento estético, mas também discursivo, se bem que a análise dessa figura se subordine a uma análise prévia dos argumentos. Pressupõe, portanto, a utilização de tal recurso como, inicialmente, argumentativa, de acordo com o que preceitua a Retórica Antiga, mas estende sua percepção para sua possível autonomização, por conta das derivações em que incorre ao integrar campos semânticos diferenciados. Para isso, a pesquisa recorreu aos estudiosos dessa questão, como Araújo (2013), Cantel (1959), Curtius (1979), Gontijo, Massimi (2014), Muraro (2003), Oliveira (2008), Saraiva (1980), dentre outros.

El presente trabajo de investigación, con un claro carácter interdisciplinar, se focaliza en un estudio donde se han combinado datos histórico‐artísticos junto a una extensa documentación radiográfica, más un amplio estudio estratigráfico y químico mediante Microscopía óptica y Microscopía electrónica de barrido. Todo ello sobre un conjunto de ocho lienzos de la producción artística del pintor Antonio Bisquert en la ciudad de Teruel.Las obras analizadas en este artículo se encuentran localizadas tanto en el Museo de Arte Sacro de Teruel, como en diferentes iglesias de esa misma localidad. Tanto los resultados obtenidos de las imágenes radiográficas como los que ofrecen las pruebas analíticas conforman un compendio inédito de lo que se refleja en todo el proceso creativo y su génesis, revelando atribuciones contrastadas y el empleo de posteriores retoques considerados como no originales, que fueron ejecutados por una misma mano en una misma época. Todos estos datos generan un gran interés para el reconocimiento y puesta en valor de la obra de este olvidado pintor.

Introduction In December 2010, Nespresso, the world’s leading brand of premium-portioned coffee, opened a flagship “boutique” in Sydney’s Pitt Street Mall. This was Nespresso’s fifth boutique opening of 2010, after Brussels, Miami, Soho, and Munich. The Sydney debut coincided with the mall’s upmarket redevelopment, which explains Nespresso’s arrival in the city: strategic geographic expansion is key to the brand’s growth. Rather than panoramic ubiquity, a retail option favoured by brands like McDonalds, KFC and Starbucks, Nespresso opts for iconic, prestigious locations. This strategy has been highly successful: since 2000 Nespresso has recorded year-on-year per annum growth of 30 per cent. This has been achieved, moreover, despite a global financial downturn and an international coffee market replete with brand variety. In turn, Nespresso marks an evolution in the coffee market over the last decade. The Nespresso Story Founded in 1986, Nespresso is the fasting growing brand in the Nestlé Group. Its headquarters are in Lausanne, Switzerland, with over 7,000 employees worldwide. In 2012, Nespresso had 270 boutiques in 50 countries. The brand’s growth strategy involves three main components: premium coffee capsules, “mated” with specially designed machines, and accompanied by exceptional customer service through the Nespresso Club. Each component requires some explanation. Nespresso offers 16 varieties of Grand Crus coffee: 7 espresso blends, 3 pure origin espressos, 3 lungos (for larger cups), and 3 decaffeinated coffees. Each 5.5 grams of portioned coffee is cased in a hermetically sealed aluminium capsule, or pod, designed to preserve the complex, volatile aromas (between 800 and 900 per pod), and prevent oxidation. These capsules are designed to be used exclusively with Nespresso-branded machines, which are equipped with a patented high-pressure extraction system designed for optimum release of the coffee. These machines, of which there are 28 models, are developed with 6 machine partners, and Antoine Cahen, from Ateliers du Nord in Lausanne, designs most of them. For its consumers, members of the Nespresso Club, the capsules and machines guarantee perfect espresso coffee every time, within seconds and with minimum effort—what Nespresso calls the “ultimate coffee experience.” The Nespresso Club promotes this experience as an everyday luxury, whereby café-quality coffee can be enjoyed in the privacy and comfort of Club members’ homes. This domestic focus is a relatively recent turn in its history. Nestlé patented some of its pod technology in 1976; the compatible machines, initially made in Switzerland by Turmix, were developed a decade later. Nespresso S. A. was set up as a subsidiary unit within the Nestlé Group with a view to target the office and fine restaurant sector. It was first test-marketed in Japan in 1986, and rolled out the same year in Switzerland, France and Italy. However, by 1988, low sales prompted Nespresso’s newly appointed CEO, Jean-Paul Gillard, to rethink the brand’s focus. Gillard subsequently repositioned Nespresso’s target market away from the commercial sector towards high-income households and individuals, and introduced a mail-order distribution system; these elements became the hallmarks of the Nespresso Club (Markides 55). The Nespresso Club was designed to give members who had purchased Nespresso machines 24-hour customer service, by mail, phone, fax, and email. By the end of 1997 there were some 250,000 Club members worldwide. The boom in domestic, user-friendly espresso machines from the early 1990s helped Nespresso’s growth in this period. The cumulative efforts by the main manufacturers—Krups, Bosch, Braun, Saeco and DeLonghi—lowered the machines’ average price to around US $100 (Purpura, “Espresso” 88; Purpura, “New” 116). This paralleled consumers’ growing sophistication, as they became increasingly familiar with café-quality espresso, cappuccino and latté—for reasons to be detailed below. Nespresso was primed to exploit this cultural shift in the market and forge a charismatic point of difference: an aspirational, luxury option within an increasingly accessible and familiar field. Between 2006 and 2008, Nespresso sales more than doubled, prompting a second production factory to supplement the original plant in Avenches (Simonian). In 2008, Nespresso grew 20 times faster than the global coffee market (Reguly B1). As Nespresso sales exceeded $1.3 billion AU in 2009, with 4.8 billion capsules shipped out annually and 5 million Club members worldwide, it became Nestlé’s fastest growing division (Canning 28). According to Nespresso’s Oceania market director, Renaud Tinel, the brand now represents 8 per cent of the total coffee market; of Nespresso specifically, he reports that 10,000 cups (using one capsule per cup) were consumed worldwide each minute in 2009, and that increased to 12,300 cups per minute in 2010 (O’Brien 16). Given such growth in such a brief period, the atypical dynamic between the boutique, the Club and the Nespresso brand warrants closer consideration. Nespresso opened its first boutique in Paris in 2000, on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It was a symbolic choice and signalled the brand’s preference for glamorous precincts in cosmopolitan cities. This has become the design template for all Nespresso boutiques, what the company calls “brand embassies” in its press releases. More like art gallery-style emporiums than retail spaces, these boutiques perform three main functions: they showcase Nespresso coffees, machines and accessories (all elegantly displayed); they enable Club members to stock up on capsules; and they offer excellent customer service, which invariably equates to detailed production information. The brand’s revenue model reflects the boutique’s role in the broader business strategy: 50 per cent of Nespresso’s business is generated online, 30 per cent through the boutiques, and 20 per cent through call centres. Whatever floor space these boutiques dedicate to coffee consumption is—compared to the emphasis on exhibition and ambience—minimal and marginal. In turn, this tightly monitored, self-focused model inverts the conventional function of most commercial coffee sites. For several hundred years, the café has fostered a convivial atmosphere, served consumers’ social inclinations, and overwhelmingly encouraged diverse, eclectic clientele. The Nespresso boutique is the antithesis to this, and instead actively limits interaction: the Club “community” does not meet as a community, and is united only in atomised allegiance to the Nespresso brand. In this regard, Nespresso stands in stark contrast to another coffee brand that has been highly successful in recent years—Starbucks. Starbucks famously recreates the aesthetics, rhetoric and atmosphere of the café as a “third place”—a term popularised by urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg to describe non-work, non-domestic spaces where patrons converge for respite or recreation. These liminal spaces (cafés, parks, hair salons, book stores and such locations) might be private, commercial sites, yet they provide opportunities for chance encounters, even therapeutic interactions. In this way, they aid sociability and civic life (Kleinman 193). Long before the term “third place” was coined, coffee houses were deemed exemplars of egalitarian social space. As Rudolf P. Gaudio notes, the early coffee houses of Western Europe, in Oxford and London in the mid-1600s, “were characterized as places where commoners and aristocrats could meet and socialize without regard to rank” (670). From this sanguine perspective, they both informed and animated the modern public sphere. That is, and following Habermas, as a place where a mixed cohort of individuals could meet and discuss matters of public importance, and where politics intersected society, the eighteenth-century British coffee house both typified and strengthened the public sphere (Karababa and Ger 746). Moreover, and even from their early Ottoman origins (Karababa and Ger), there has been an historical correlation between the coffee house and the cosmopolitan, with the latter at least partly defined in terms of demographic breadth (Luckins). Ironically, and insofar as Nespresso appeals to coffee-literate consumers, the brand owes much to Starbucks. In the two decades preceding Nespresso’s arrival, Starbucks played a significant role in refining coffee literacy around the world, gauging mass-market trends, and stirring consumer consciousness. For Nespresso, this constituted major preparatory phenomena, as its strategy (and success) since the early 2000s presupposed the coffee market that Starbucks had helped to create. According to Nespresso’s chief executive Richard Giradot, central to Nespresso’s expansion is a focus on particular cities and their coffee culture (Canning 28). In turn, it pays to take stock of how such cities developed a coffee culture amenable to Nespresso—and therein lays the brand’s debt to Starbucks. Until the last few years, and before celebrity ambassador George Clooney was enlisted in 2005, Nespresso’s marketing was driven primarily by Club members’ recommendations. At the same time, though, Nespresso insisted that Club members were coffee connoisseurs, whose knowledge and enjoyment of coffee exceeded conventional coffee offerings. In 2000, Henk Kwakman, one of Nestlé’s Coffee Specialists, explained the need for portioned coffee in terms of guaranteed perfection, one that demanding consumers would expect. “In general”, he reasoned, “people who really like espresso coffee are very much more quality driven. When you consider such an intense taste experience, the quality is very important. If the espresso is slightly off quality, the connoisseur notices this immediately” (quoted in Butler 50). What matters here is how this corps of connoisseurs grew to a scale big enough to sustain and strengthen the Nespresso system, in the absence of a robust marketing or educative drive by Nespresso (until very recently). Put simply, the brand’s ascent was aided by Starbucks, specifically by the latter’s success in changing the mainstream coffee market during the 1990s. In establishing such a strong transnational presence, Starbucks challenged smaller, competing brands to define themselves with more clarity and conviction. Indeed, working with data that identified just 200 freestanding coffee houses in the US prior to 1990 compared to 14,000 in 2003, Kjeldgaard and Ostberg go so far as to state that: “Put bluntly, in the US there was no local coffee consumptionscape prior to Starbucks” (Kjeldgaard and Ostberg 176). Starbucks effectively redefined the coffee world for mainstream consumers in ways that were directly beneficial for Nespresso. Starbucks: Coffee as Ambience, Experience, and Cultural Capital While visitors to Nespresso boutiques can sample the coffee, with highly trained baristas and staff on site to explain the Nespresso system, in the main there are few concessions to the conventional café experience. Primarily, these boutiques function as material spaces for existing Club members to stock up on capsules, and therefore they complement the Nespresso system with a suitably streamlined space: efficient, stylish and conspicuously upmarket. Outside at least one Sydney boutique for instance (Bondi Junction, in the fashionable eastern suburbs), visitors enter through a club-style cordon, something usually associated with exclusive bars or hotels. This demarcates the boutique from neighbouring coffee chains, and signals Nespresso’s claim to more privileged patrons. This strategy though, the cultivation of a particular customer through aesthetic design and subtle flattery, is not unique. For decades, Starbucks also contrived a “special” coffee experience. Moreover, while the Starbucks model strikes a very different sensorial chord to that of Nespresso (in terms of décor, target consumer and so on) it effectively groomed and prepped everyday coffee drinkers to a level of relative self-sufficiency and expertise—and therein is the link between Starbucks’s mass-marketed approach and Nespresso’s timely arrival. Starbucks opened its first store in 1971, in Seattle. Three partners founded it: Jerry Baldwin and Zev Siegl, both teachers, and Gordon Bowker, a writer. In 1982, as they opened their sixth Seattle store, they were joined by Howard Schultz. Schultz’s trip to Italy the following year led to an entrepreneurial epiphany to which he now attributes Starbucks’s success. Inspired by how cafés in Italy, particularly the espresso bars in Milan, were vibrant social hubs, Schultz returned to the US with a newfound sensitivity to ambience and attitude. In 1987, Schultz bought Starbucks outright and stated his business philosophy thus: “We aren’t in the coffee business, serving people. We are in the people business, serving coffee” (quoted in Ruzich 432). This was articulated most clearly in how Schultz structured Starbucks as the ultimate “third place”, a welcoming amalgam of aromas, music, furniture, textures, literature and free WiFi. This transformed the café experience twofold. First, sensory overload masked the dull homogeny of a global chain with an air of warm, comforting domesticity—an inviting, everyday “home away from home.” To this end, in 1994, Schultz enlisted interior design “mastermind” Wright Massey; with his team of 45 designers, Massey created the chain’s decor blueprint, an “oasis for contemplation” (quoted in Scerri 60). At the same time though, and second, Starbucks promoted a revisionist, airbrushed version of how the coffee was produced. Patrons could see and smell the freshly roasted beans, and read about their places of origin in the free pamphlets. In this way, Starbucks merged the exotic and the cosmopolitan. The global supply chain underwent an image makeover, helped by a “new” vocabulary that familiarised its coffee drinkers with the diversity and complexity of coffee, and such terms as aroma, acidity, body and flavour. This strategy had a decisive impact on the coffee market, first in the US and then elsewhere: Starbucks oversaw a significant expansion in coffee consumption, both quantitatively and qualitatively. In the decades following the Second World War, coffee consumption in the US reached a plateau. Moreover, as Steven Topik points out, the rise of this type of coffee connoisseurship actually coincided with declining per capita consumption of coffee in the US—so the social status attributed to specialised knowledge of coffee “saved” the market: “Coffee’s rise as a sign of distinction and connoisseurship meant its appeal was no longer just its photoactive role as a stimulant nor the democratic sociability of the coffee shop” (Topik 100). Starbucks’s singular triumph was to not only convert non-coffee drinkers, but also train them to a level of relative sophistication. The average “cup o’ Joe” thus gave way to the latte, cappuccino, macchiato and more, and a world of coffee hitherto beyond (perhaps above) the average American consumer became both regular and routine. By 2003, Starbucks’s revenue was US $4.1 billion, and by 2012 there were almost 20,000 stores in 58 countries. As an idealised “third place,” Starbucks functioned as a welcoming haven that flattened out and muted the realities of global trade. The variety of beans on offer (Arabica, Latin American, speciality single origin and so on) bespoke a generous and bountiful modernity; while brochures schooled patrons in the nuances of terroir, an appreciation for origin and distinctiveness that encoded cultural capital. This positioned Starbucks within a happy narrative of the coffee economy, and drew patrons into this story by flattering their consumer choices. Against the generic sameness of supermarket options, Starbucks promised distinction, in Pierre Bourdieu’s sense of the term, and diversity in its coffee offerings. For Greg Dickinson, the Starbucks experience—the scent of the beans, the sound of the grinders, the taste of the coffees—negated the abstractions of postmodern, global trade: by sensory seduction, patrons connected with something real, authentic and material. At the same time, Starbucks professed commitment to the “triple bottom line” (Savitz), the corporate mantra that has morphed into virtual orthodoxy over the last fifteen years. This was hardly surprising; companies that trade in food staples typically grown in developing regions (coffee, tea, sugar, and coffee) felt the “political-aesthetic problematization of food” (Sassatelli and Davolio). This saw increasingly cognisant consumers trying to reconcile the pleasures of consumption with environmental and human responsibilities. The “triple bottom line” approach, which ostensibly promotes best business practice for people, profits and the planet, was folded into Starbucks’s marketing. The company heavily promoted its range of civic engagement, such as donations to nurses’ associations, literacy programs, clean water programs, and fair dealings with its coffee growers in developing societies (Simon). This bode well for its target market. As Constance M. Ruch has argued, Starbucks sought the burgeoning and lucrative “bobo” class, a term Ruch borrows from David Brooks. A portmanteau of “bourgeois bohemians,” “bobo” describes the educated elite that seeks the ambience and experience of a counter-cultural aesthetic, but without the political commitment. Until the last few years, it seemed Starbucks had successfully grafted this cultural zeitgeist onto its “third place.” Ironically, the scale and scope of the brand’s success has meant that Starbucks’s claim to an ethical agenda draws frequent and often fierce attack. As a global behemoth, Starbucks evolved into an iconic symbol of advanced consumer culture. For those critical of how such brands overwhelm smaller, more local competition, the brand is now synonymous for insidious, unstoppable retail spread. This in turn renders Starbucks vulnerable to protests that, despite its gestures towards sustainability (human and environmental), and by virtue of its size, ubiquity and ultimately conservative philosophy, it has lost whatever cachet or charm it supposedly once had. As Bryant Simon argues, in co-opting the language of ethical practice within an ultimately corporatist context, Starbucks only ever appealed to a modest form of altruism; not just in terms of the funds committed to worthy causes, but also to move thorny issues to “the most non-contentious middle-ground,” lest conservative customers felt alienated (Simon 162). Yet, having flagged itself as an ethical brand, Starbucks became an even bigger target for anti-corporatist sentiment, and the charge that, as a multinational giant, it remained complicit in (and one of the biggest benefactors of) a starkly inequitable and asymmetric global trade. It remains a major presence in the world coffee market, and arguably the most famous of the coffee chains. Over the last decade though, the speed and intensity with which Nespresso has grown, coupled with its atypical approach to consumer engagement, suggests that, in terms of brand equity, it now offers a more compelling point of difference than Starbucks. Brand “Me” Insofar as the Nespresso system depends on a consumer market versed in the intricacies of quality coffee, Starbucks can be at least partly credited for nurturing a more refined palate amongst everyday coffee drinkers. Yet while Starbucks courted the “average” consumer in its quest for market control, saturating the suburban landscape with thousands of virtually indistinguishable stores, Nespresso marks a very different sensibility. Put simply, Nespresso inverts the logic of a coffee house as a “third place,” and patrons are drawn not to socialise and relax but to pursue their own highly individualised interests. The difference with Starbucks could not be starker. One visitor to the Bloomingdale boutique (in New York’s fashionable Soho district) described it as having “the feel of Switzerland rather than Seattle. Instead of velvet sofas and comfy music, it has hard surfaces, bright colours and European hostesses” (Gapper 9). By creating a system that narrows the gap between production and consumption, to the point where Nespresso boutiques advertise the coffee brand but do not promote on-site coffee drinking, the boutiques are blithely indifferent to the historical, romanticised image of the coffee house as a meeting place. The result is a coffee experience that exploits the sophistication and vanity of aspirational consumers, but ignores the socialising scaffold by which coffee houses historically and perhaps naively made some claim to community building. If anything, Nespresso restricts patrons’ contemplative field: they consider only their relationships to the brand. In turn, Nespresso offers the ultimate expression of contemporary consumer capitalism, a hyper-individual experience for a hyper-modern age. By developing a global brand that is both luxurious and niche, Nespresso became “the Louis Vuitton of coffee” (Betts 14). Where Starbucks pursued retail ubiquity, Nespresso targets affluent, upmarket cities. As chief executive Richard Giradot put it, with no hint of embarrassment or apology: “If you take China, for example, we are not speaking about China, we are speaking about Shanghai, Hong Kong, Beijing because you will not sell our concept in the middle of nowhere in China” (quoted in Canning 28). For this reason, while Europe accounts for 90 per cent of Nespresso sales (Betts 15), its forays into the Americas, Asia and Australasia invariably spotlights cities that are already iconic or emerging economic hubs. The first boutique in Latin America, for instance, was opened in Jardins, a wealthy suburb in Sao Paulo, Brazil. In Nespresso, Nestlé has popularised a coffee experience neatly suited to contemporary consumer trends: Club members inhabit a branded world as hermetically sealed as the aluminium pods they purchase and consume. Besides the Club’s phone, fax and online distribution channels, pods can only be bought at the boutiques, which minimise even the potential for serendipitous mingling. The baristas are there primarily for product demonstrations, whilst highly trained staff recite the machines’ strengths (be they in design or utility), or information about the actual coffees. For Club members, the boutique service is merely the human extension of Nespresso’s online presence, whereby product information becomes increasingly tailored to increasingly individualised tastes. In the boutique, this emphasis on the individual is sold in terms of elegance, expedience and privilege. Nespresso boasts that over 70 per cent of its workforce is “customer facing,” sharing their passion and knowledge with Club members. Having already received and processed the product information (through the website, boutique staff, and promotional brochures), Club members need not do anything more than purchase their pods. In some of the more recently opened boutiques, such as in Paris-Madeleine, there is even an Exclusive Room where only Club members may enter—curious tourists (or potential members) are kept out. Club members though can select their preferred Grands Crus and checkout automatically, thanks to RFID (radio frequency identification) technology inserted in the capsule sleeves. So, where Starbucks exudes an inclusive, hearth-like hospitality, the Nespresso Club appears more like a pampered clique, albeit a growing one. As described in the Financial Times, “combine the reception desk of a designer hotel with an expensive fashion display and you get some idea what a Nespresso ‘coffee boutique’ is like” (Wiggins and Simonian 10). Conclusion Instead of sociability, Nespresso puts a premium on exclusivity and the knowledge gained through that exclusive experience. The more Club members know about the coffee, the faster and more individualised (and “therefore” better) the transaction they have with the Nespresso brand. This in turn confirms Zygmunt Bauman’s contention that, in a consumer society, being free to choose requires competence: “Freedom to choose does not mean that all choices are right—there are good and bad choices, better and worse choices. The kind of choice eventually made is the evidence of competence or its lack” (Bauman 43-44). Consumption here becomes an endless process of self-fashioning through commodities; a process Eva Illouz considers “all the more strenuous when the market recruits the consumer through the sysiphian exercise of his/her freedom to choose who he/she is” (Illouz 392). In a status-based setting, the more finely graded the differences between commodities (various places of origin, blends, intensities, and so on), the harder the consumer works to stay ahead—which means to be sufficiently informed. Consumers are locked in a game of constant reassurance, to show upward mobility to both themselves and society. For all that, and like Starbucks, Nespresso shows some signs of corporate social responsibility. In 2009, the company announced its “Ecolaboration” initiative, a series of eco-friendly targets for 2013. By then, Nespresso aims to: source 80 per cent of its coffee through Sustainable Quality Programs and Rainforest Alliance Certified farms; triple its capacity to recycle used capsules to 75 per cent; and reduce the overall carbon footprint required to produce each cup of Nespresso by 20 per cent (Nespresso). This information is conveyed through the brand’s website, press releases and brochures. However, since such endeavours are now de rigueur for many brands, it does not register as particularly innovative, progressive or challenging: it is an unexceptional (even expected) part of contemporary mainstream marketing. Indeed, the use of actor George Clooney as Nespresso’s brand ambassador since 2005 shows shrewd appraisal of consumers’ political and cultural sensibilities. As a celebrity who splits his time between Hollywood and Lake Como in Italy, Clooney embodies the glamorous, cosmopolitan lifestyle that Nespresso signifies. 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