Articles de revues sur le sujet « MAP Office (Art studio) »

Abstract. Hungarian presenters gave several papers on this project at cartographic conferences and published articles on the state of the work in the past decade. The project undertaken by the Department of Cartography and Geoinformatics at Eötvös Loránd University (ELTE) serves the saving of cultural heritage, namely a globe, a significant work of art. The project is named after its maker, Perczel. The work, which lasted for more than ten years with interruptions, was crowned by the birth of three imposing artistic copies of the globe. This part of the project completed in half a year was organized by the Archiflex Studio and led by Zsuzsanna Lente, restorer artist. The first copy decorates the office of the Hungarian prime minister in the former Carmelite cloister in the Buda Castle. The second copy is placed in the National Széchényi Library, where the original globe is kept. The third copy went to the University Library of ELTE. The physical embodiment of the globe makes it a real public property: Perczel’s globe is a work of art that represents great scientific and cultural values.The present paper reviews shortly the manuscript globe made by Perczel in 1862, and presents the stages of the digital re-creation and restoration of the globe map carried out at the Department of Cartography and Geoinformatics at ELTE, which led to its physical reconstruction, the birth of its artistic copies. Finally, some cartographic “juicy bits” follow: the representation of non-existent “ghost” islands on the globe and some interesting graphical solutions that are unusual today.

The University of Mataram real work program has one of the work programs, namely it is a great hope for the Pengadangan Village government to be able to build and redevelop the Grandma Bini art studio. The benefits of having a grandmother's art studio are 1). become a forum for developing community interests and talents and preserving the arts and culture of the Pengadangan Village 2). Uniting the existing arts in Pengadangan Village under the same auspices. The construction and development of the grandmother's art studio began with various stages, namely (a) discussions, (b) deliberations, (c) art performances and inauguration of the management. It was agreed regarding the structure of the grand grandmother's art studio which had been formed and designed in such a way by hearing input from various parties. After it was officially agreed, we asked the village head to issue a decree regarding the management of the grandmother's art studio. After the decree from the head of the village of Pengadangan regarding the management structure of the studio, we formed a management structure in the form of a banner that was framed so that later it could be displayed at the village office of Pengadangan. We handed over the management banner on the night of the art performance as a symbol of success in the construction and development of the grandma's art studio. at the same time officially inaugurated by the head of the village of Pengadangan, the chairperson and board member of the arts studio, the grandmother's wife in 2023-2026. The activity of building the grandma bini art studio in Pengadangan village is a form of concern for the arts in the village of Pengadangan, the construction and development of the grandma bini art studio also aims to become a forum for developing community interest and talent and preserving the art and culture of the village of Pengadangan and uniting the arts in the village shelter under the same shade.

The purpose of this study was to find out the non-formal learning process at the Putri Lilin Art Studio using teaching materials for the Rentak Lilin Besolek Dance. Non-formal education is education that can be attended by all groups, from the young to the elderly, men and women, and so on. Non-formal education in the Putri Lilin Art Studio uses teaching materials in the form of the Rentak Lilin Besolek dance. The Rentak Lilin Besolek Dance is an invitation to the people of Sungai Lilin from the west, east, north and south to carry out clean-up activities and beautify the new sub-district office simultaneously to prepare for the opening of the new sub-district office. The Rentak Lilin Besolek dance was created in 2012 at the inauguration of the new sub-district office in Sungai Lilin sub-district. This study uses a qualitative research method with data collection techniques in the form of observation, interviews, and documentation.

Nowadays community lifestyle has rapidly growing in society, these are directly affecting the business development in Indonesia especially souvenir and gift business that specialized in face caricature, Illustration and silhouette. Communities are often having a difficulty to find a souvenir & gift that are unique and memorable yet multifunctional. These souvenir and gift are commonly used in variety events such as graduation, farewells, anniversaries and so on. Although consumers required to have a direct inspection of product quality, shape, and function. However these caricature souvenirs and gifts are hardly can be found in many retail stores in Surabaya. Therefore, NGIDE (art and craft venture space) is an innovative solution that created to meet consumer’s demand. In the initial phase, NGIDE (art and craft venture space) will be based on online shop, which sells souvenir and gift. Afterward, in the third phase, NGIDE (art and craft venture space) will be developed as building facility, which contains retail area, mini eatery, office, studio and meeting room. Consumers are able to freely choose product variant and consult their needs in the retail area. Furthermore, to give an extra added value, some of the souvenir and gift working progress can be awaited thus mini eatery is provided. Customers can relax and enjoy their meal in this area. Other facilities such as studio, office and meeting room are designated for employees as the production area. Besides, NGIDE (art and craft venture space)’s interior are designed with industrial style that combines the implementation of graphic and exposed material to outshine company identity as souvenir and gift company which specialized in caricature, illustration, and silhouette; and the focus of NGIDE (art and craft venture space)’s brand personality itself will be creative, fun and fresh. The purpose of designing interior architecture of NGIDE (art and craft venture space) is not only improving business development but also creating brand new art and craft space in Surabaya.

In recent years, Chinese animation has developed rapidly. At present, domestic animation has developed in the market. The box office of domestic animated films has generally risen, with box-office hits such as "Nezha" and "The Return of the Great Sage". Shanghai Fine Arts Film Studio is a very important part in the development history of Chinese animation. In the rapid development of "Internet +", relying on new communication technologies and methods, changes have taken place in various fields of film and animation creation, distribution and publication. In this way, the concept of IP was born, and now Shanghai Mei is constantly transforming from the traditional to the IP-oriented trend in its own way, and innovating the operation mode of the cultural industry in the new social and cultural environment. This paper aims to analyze the development trend of IP-based animation in China, rationally discuss the problems and challenges encountered in the development of IP-based animation in China, and attempt to describe the promotion methods and methods of “IP+”-based animation in China. future trends.

This article describes the design of a map of the Indian state Himachal Pradesh at the scale of 1:500,000. The aim of this foldable map with topography is to support an interdisciplinary research network focusing on the cultural history of the western Himalayas starting in the eighth century. In this research network, cartography and geography fulfill a mediating role between the disciplines of art history, numismatics, Buddhist philosophy, and Tibetan and Sanskrit philology. The map’s goal is to facilitate scientific work and interdisciplinary collaboration both in the office and out in the field. In addition to the printed version, the map is available for download to the general public through a Web-based cartographic information system. Topographic data was compiled from a variety of sources—starting with maps originally surveyed by the colonial British and ending with satellite imagery. Production involved ArcGIS and Natural Scene Designer for initial data preparation and Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator for final map compilation.

ABSTRACTDance has experienced extraordinary development. Now, dance is no longer in the area of fairies but has entered the modern civilization, the tradition is shifted to the industry and academic. This is because of the role of academic dancers who conduct the research, both creation studies and scientific studies. Dance has become the object of laboratories in the studios of art academics in Indonesia and various parts of the world, so that dance laboratories and studios have emerged in various places in Indonesia. Now dance is not only seen as practicing soul, dance is no longer limited to the beauty of aesthetic invisible , but dance also has explored other art worlds, such as theater and fine arts.Now it is difficult to distinguish between dance and theater performance. The above phenomenon often becomes a trend of artists. Art observers call it a contemporary phenomenon. Contemporary phenomena continue to develop in artists and academic world. Contemporary art is critical towards social problems around it as well as the art itself. Contemporary spirit does not only break the ice of one art discipline but also across art disciplines. Almost all elements of dance are explored and developed, one of which is site specific dance. A genre of contemporary dance that focuses on creating dance works using special places.This study uses an artistic research method. The researchers as well as the creators of site specific dance works is in the lobby of the H.U office Solopos. The research stages are in accordance with the stages of artistic research.Keywords: site specific dance, space, body, time, dance. ABSTRAK Seni tari telah mengalami perkembangan yang luar biasa. Sekarang, tari tidak lagi berada di wilayah peri-peri, tetapi telah masuk ke sentrum peradaban modern, dari kantong-kantong tradisi bergeser ke kantong-kantong industri dan akademik. Hal tersebut tidak lepas dari peran penari akademik yang melakukan riset, baik studi penciptaan maupun kajian ilmiah. Tari telah menjadi objek laboratorium di studio-studio akademisi seni di Indonesia dan berbagai belahan dunia, sehingga bermunculan laboratorium-laboratorium dan studio tari di berbagai tempat di Indonesia.Tari saat ini dipandang tidak saja berolah sukma, tari tidak lagi sebatas keindahan estetika yang kasat mata, tetapi tari sudah menjelajah dunia seni lainnya, seperti teater dan seni rupa.Sekarang sulit membedakan antara penyajian tari dan teater. Fenomena di atas sering menjadi trend para seniman individual. Kalangan pengamat seni menyebut fenomena tersebut sebagai fenomena kontemporer. Fenomena kontemporer terus berkembang dalam kalangan seniman dan lingkungan akademik. Seni kontemporer selain kritis terhadap persoalan sosial yang ada di sekitarnya juga kritis kepada seninya sendiri. Spirit kontemporer tidak hanya mendobrak kebekuan sekat –sekat satu disiplin seni, tetapi juga lintas disiplin seni. Hampir semua elemen tari dieksplorasi dan dikembangkan, salah satunya adalah site specific dance. Sebuah genre seni tari kontemporer yang fokus kepada penciptaan karya tari menggunakan tempat-tempat yang khusus.Penelitian ini menggunakan metode penelitian artistik, dimana peneliti sekaligus pencipta karya site specific dance di lobi kantor H.U. Solopos yang tahapan penelitiannya sesuai dengan tahapan riset artistik. Kata kunci: site specific dance, ruang, ketubuhan, waktu, tari.

Abstract This paper describes our creative responses to a surface assemblage (a scatter) of lithic artefacts encountered on either side of a worn track across a field early on in the pandemic. Our art/archaeology response takes place within a phygital nexus in which artefacts or assemblages can be instantiated either physically or digitally, or both. In the nexus we create, connect and explore an ontological multiplicity of – more or less – physical and digital skeuomorphs and other more standard forms of records for sharing (i.e. Latour’s immutable mobiles, such as photographs), but rendered with radically different properties and affordances, at different scales, with different apparatus. These include interactive Reflectance Transformation Images, graphical surface models, machine intelligence style transfer, and 3D prints, all of which were produced in a variety of isolated analytical “bubble” settings and transmitted to and from (both digitally and physically) a home office in an isolated Hampshire village and a home studio in a London suburb. Our approach is to describe, diffractively, the ontological shifts and itineraries associated with some of these objects and assess how this assemblage came to matter as an art/archaeology installation. Ultimately, some of these deterritorialised, (re)colourised, affective, biodegradable, and diffractively born metamorphic instars, now inscribed with new meanings, are returned to the original findspot of the lithics to be (re)discovered.

Artists’ studios turned into museums are always specific representations of thepast – spatial images reflecting some idea of art and the artist, as well as his or herworks, and even the position of the spectator imagined as a visitor, admirer, insider,outsider or pilgrim.When a studio is shown through a film, its status of representation comes to theforeground very distinctly just because of the properties of the medium. A filmic representationof the studio is a result of combining images into a sequence, while individualimages attract the spectator’s attention to particular places, areas or aspectsof the space of creation, thus making him or her follow a certain trajectory of meaning.What is more, such a sequence does not have to be limited to the studio’s interiorsince the cinematic montage allows the director to expand it freely by adding somehistoricizing or contextualizing frames. Finally, film allows one to meet the artist inhis or her space through an interview, representation of the creative process or anactor-impersonator.In the first I discuss briefly three issues: the general idea of the present paperand its historical and theoretical contexts.First, my objective is to provide information on my research on Polish documentaryfilm on art in 1948–1989, which was financially supported by the Ministry ofScience and Higher Education. I was doing this research with help of a small team ofyoung scholars – phd students and a younger collegue from Institute of Art History atAdam Mickiewicz University in Poznań. In this article I will not address generalproblems related to the filmic representation of artists’ studios, but discuss severalindividual cases.Second, the historical context is connected with the hopes of totalitarian statesto use mass culture, and particularly film, to manipulate the masses. Even though inparticular decades of the 20th century, and in different countries, those hopes wereput into practice in different ways, their ideological and practical implementation hada common basis. That basis can perhaps be best described by Walter Benjamin’s ideathat a modern wish to regenerate the world requires the destruction of the auratic artand influencing the masses with some other kind of artistic creation that could organizethem according to a fixed political purpose. Benjamin believed that the most usefulin that respect would be film, which in his opinion was both technical and massoriented.The masses could receive film with little effort so that it would imperceptiblyform their mental and imaginative habits, and therefore also a political bias.My point is that the filmic representations of artists’ studios must be approachedin the general context of the role assigned to film in the communist Poland, eventhough one should also remember that artists had various attitudes and censors keptchanging their criteria of appropriateness. Still, the research focused on the representationof the artist, his or her studio, and the ideas of art will reveal an officially acceptedpicture to be transmitted into the public space. One the other hand, oneshould remember that within precisely defined political limits Polish documentary(and other) filmmakers could ignore commercial aspects and refer to the acknowledgedhigh position of art, experimenting in different ways with a relationship betweenfilm and the visual arts.Third, my theoretical context is related to the status of the documentary or, thatof reality represented in documentary films. In my view, shared also by a number ofscholars, documentaries have an element of creation and their reality is alwaysprocessed in one way or another. My examples will include studio as office, nature,space of imagination, village hut or cottage, and engine room.

Islamic social finance (ISF) has recently received much attention for its potential to address social problems such as poverty, hunger, and unequal wealth distribution. This study aims to map ISF research through a bibliometric analysis of 502 publications in the Scopus database from 1979 to 2022. Using state-of-the-art tools such as VOSviewer and R Studio, we uncover publication trends, co-authorship networks, and bibliographic integration in the field. Our results show a promising annual growth rate of 9.26% in ISF publications, with Malaysia and Hasan M. K. leading and Malaysia International Islamic University as the affiliate with the highest publication contribution. This study provides valuable recommendations for future research to enhance our understanding of ISF and unlock its potential social impact. However, we must first acknowledge the limitations of using Scopus data exclusively. Through this study, we hope to inspire further exploration of the power of ISF to create positive change in our world.

In the context of a viral outbreak and necessary physical distancing, the emergence of new or the evolution of older artistic behavioural schemes becomes evident. We correlate the isolation space of the artist with the cockpit of a spaceship and the navigation and communication interfaces used by an astronaut. The cybernetic domain between physical space(s) and artist(s) can be thought of as consisting of many ‘organs’. It includes a core (black box), many-layered limits: skin, walls, mental and digital borders as well as mechanisms of connectivity with external entities (other astronauts in art spaceships). This space could be a bedroom, a studio, an office or any different location the artist uses as an isolated bubble of information sharing and manipulation (material and immaterial). For the construction of such an (astronaut, artist) ontology we use metaphors, etymological references, transformed concepts and creative analogies between the actual and the subjective space. As one case study for this paradigm, we experimented with a telematic performance of Heiner Müller’s Hamlet Machine titled, I want to be 171.

ABSTRACT:This article uses data extracted from General Register Office mortality registers to map the localization of infant mortality in Dublin city from 1864 to 1910. It traces how late nineteenth-century social inequalities were deeply rooted in the city's history. In order to contextualize the high infant mortality rates, we draw on a range of approaches to provide an overarching view of the causes of the public health problems cities like Dublin experienced.

This article responds to the challenges facing creative practitioners whose work engages with aspects of ‘public’ provoked by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. The temporary physical closures of established creative infrastructures such as galleries, museums and festivals have disrupted the traditional dynamics of production and reception. This presents both challenges and opportunities for artists and designers to develop new forms of creative engagement with public audiences and spaces. The confinement of people to a 5-kilometre radius during extended lockdowns in Melbourne, Australia in 2020 prompted a reflection on the opportunities of the ‘local’ as a particular context for creative practice. This restriction imposed a perimeter that brought people’s day- to-day lives into an enclosed loop and produced what could be thought of as a form of interior. In this period, ordinary domestic and local spaces — for example the home office or studio gained manifold functions for many creative practitioners, including as a space for self- initiated public presentations of their work. In several cases, windows, balconies, and doorways became thresholds for interaction with passers-by. This self-broadcasting situation provided an opportunity for practitioners to play an active role in cultivating new relations and forms of publicity from a localised setting. In this article, these shifts in practice are investigated through a critical reflection on a series of spatial interventions within a street-facing window of a studio space in Brunswick, Melbourne, an inner-city suburb where residential streets mix with spaces of industrial and creative production. The liminal space of the window became a way to speculate on the concept of thresholds between diverse conditions, including public and private, art and the everyday, urban and local, and interior and exterior. These investigations engaged with a ‘makeshift’ mode of practice, leading to the production of extra-ordinary interior conditions.

Abstract Charles S. Peirce’s second trichotomy, which introduces the concepts of iconicity, indexicality, and symbolicity, is probably the only piece of his semiotic that is familiar to visual artists and designers. Although the concepts have found their way into the academy, their utility in the field has been reduced for a couple of reasons. First, as with all of Peirce’s philosophy, his second trichotomy is a concept that is subtle, fluid, and difficult to fully grasp in a sound bite. Second, there has simply been no bridge concept that would form a working connection between that philosophy in its logical guise and the studio practice in the visual arts. The purpose of this article is to remedy that situation by investigating the subtle ways the second trichotomy functions within the visual sphere, and to then suggest a model that can serve to bridge the divide between pure theory and practice. The article makes four main points: first, using examples from visual identity and the graphic arts, it demonstrates how the modes of icon, index, and symbol tend to be blended; second, examples from fine art are used to illustrate how the concept of abstraction, as used in the art world, can only be partially accounted for within the second trichotomy, but can be modeled by supplying a syntactical supplement; third, it expands on and elaborates a previously sketched model, the visual gamut, which makes it possible to classify visual entities according to their position within a map of semantic and syntactic space; finally, it concludes by suggesting ways this enhanced version of the visual gamut model might be used in the analysis of, or creation of, art and design, presenting suggestions for further study.

Abstract. With every new generation of smart devices, new sensors are introduced, such as depth camera or UWB sensors. Combined with the rapidly growing number of smart mobile devices, indoor positioning systems (IPS) have seen increasing interest due to numerous indoor location-based services (ILBS) and mobile applications at large. Wi-Fi Received Signal Strength (RSS) based fingerprinting positioning (WF) techniques are popularly used in many IPS as the widespread deployment of IEEE 802.11 WLAN (Wi-Fi) networks, as this technique requires no line-of-sight to the access points (APs), and it is easy to extract Wi-Fi signal from 802.11 networks with smart devices. However, WF techniques have problems with fingerprint variance, i.e., fluctuation of the sensed signal, and efficient map updating due to the frequently changing environment. To address these problems, we propose a novel framework of IPS which uses particle filter to fuse WF and state-of-the-art CNN-based visual localization method to better adapt to changing indoor environment. The suggested system was tested with real-world crowdsourced data collected by multiple devices in an office hallway. The experimental results demonstrate that the system can achieve robust localization at a 0.3~1.5 m mean error (ME) accuracy, and map updating with a 79% correction rate.

This article is a reflection on an attempt to create a space of flux through the concepts of positionality, vā and talanoa within the design academy. This was presented as an academic course, originally intended to address a gap in established learning, and to make space for intergenerational knowledge systems that were originally being shared outside of the studio (shared at the knee, through office hours, and in passing conversations). This sharing led to key questions regarding how we (re)craft our ways through our practices and what cultural conditions are needed to enable safe design and cultural production. Five students enrolled in the course and are featured as co-authors in this article. They whakapapa as Tangata whenua (Māori, people of the land) or Tagata o le Moana (specifically Sāmoan). They are enrolled in a range of design disciplines such as spatial design, fashion design, and concept design. Classes were held once a week over a 12- week semester period. These in-person classes involved reflecting and re-presenting our positional contexts, a sharing and setting of kai, hikoi to gallery exhibitions featuring Māori and Pacific art practitioners at an institutional level and a community level, alongside the sharing of scholarship developed on the concepts of vā and talanoa, while coming back to ourselves and our familial, generational social settings.

There are numerous ways to theorise about elements of civilisations and societies known as ‘body’, ‘movement’, or ‘physical’ cultures. Inspired by the late Henning Eichberg’s notions of multiple and continually shifting body cultures, this article explores his constant comparative (trialectic) approach via the Mexican martial art, exercise, and human development philosophy—Xilam. Situating Xilam within its historical and political context and within a triad of Mesoamerican, native, and modern martial arts, combat sports, and other physical cultures, I map this complexity through Eichberg’s triadic model of achievement, fitness, and experience sports. I then focus my analysis on the aspects of movement in space as seen in my ethnographic fieldwork in one branch of the Xilam school. Using a bare studio as the setting and my body as principle instrument, I provide an impressionist portrait of what it is like to train in Xilam within a communal dance hall (space) and typical class session of two hours (time) and to form and express warrior identity from it. This article displays the techniques; gestures and bodily symbols that encapsulate the essence of the Xilam body culture, calling for a way to theorise from not just from and on the body but also across body cultures.

This research is motivated by the low level of dissemination of tourism information in the city of Samarinda. Samarinda is one of the cities with very diverse and interesting tourism potentials to explore. The beauty of the urban area and being one of the cities that is crossed by the largest river in the province of East Kalimantan, namely the Mahakam river, makes it one of the tourist destinations that has its own charm, but unfortunately at this time the tourism places in the city of Samarinda have not been widely publicized due to lack of information. About tourism that is given to the public and there are also some places that have not been or have just been opened to become tourist sites. This study uses spatial data in the form of location coordinates and non-spatial data in the form of attribute data including tourist names, addresses, and types of tours, descriptions and pictures. Making the Samarinda City Tourism Geographic Information System website using the Leaflet API as a base map. The database created using PHPMyAdmin on the Samarinda City Tourism Geographic Information System is based on collecting secondary data on tourism information at the Samarinda City Tourism Office and also collecting primary data by interviewing tourist objects that have not been recorded at the Samarinda City Tourism Office. The system and appearance of the Samarinda City Tourism Geographic Information System website was built with the CodeIgniter 3 framework using Visual Studio Code as a text editor. The results of this study are the Samarinda City Tourism Geographic Information System which provides information on tourist names, addresses, types of tours, location coordinates, descriptions, images and is equipped with search features and also road routes to tourist sites. It is hoped that the Samarinda City Tourism Geographic Information System can provide adequate information about tourism information in the city of Samarinda so as to facilitate the delivery and acceptance to the public, especially prospective tourists.

Learning outcomes Upon completion of the case, students will be able to reflect the forces, which may disrupt the art industry through Artientifique initiatives and the ability to apply Phoenix encounter method with proactive scanning to remain competitive; create various multi-functional roles as a youth entrepreneur in the micro, small and medium enterprises (MSMEs) capacity and be able to understand the level and review the competition and business trends from an art industry perspective; analyze how innovation clubbed with sustainability will create a competitive advantage in a circular economy; determine the leadership style most appropriate for MSMEs to indulge in innovation and sustainability in the fine arts business; and design and discover opportunities to promote women’s entrepreneurship in the art industry, especially in emerging markets. Case overview/synopsis On a cold Friday morning in November 2020, Aisha Mir was in utter confusion written all over her face. She had to decide on a prosperous pathway. Should it be customization or standardization of artwork? Also, whether she should continue investing in the existing in-house supply chain or outsource this to a third party. Being practicing sustainability in her personal and professional life, she had designed her art studio herself by using upcycled materials. While enjoying the pigeons and sparrows chirping and eating grains on her wide windowpane, she looked at the world map with keen interest and imagined herself flying to each country along with her gray and white pigeons. While sitting in Madina city, Saudi Arabia, she was concerned about the expired makeup collection hub being set up in Abu Dhabi, UAE. The collection and the painting processes had to be monitored; the artworks needed auditing, framing and packing before they were shipped to a customer. Centralizing would add unnecessary hassle, and outsourcing needed distribution of authority. Keeping the challenges in mind, she was struggling to find a solution for efficient community engagement. Complexity academic level This case has been particularly focused on undergraduate and postgraduate early-stage level students pursuing business or commerce programs, particularly those studying entrepreneurial and management courses in innovation and sustainability. Supplementary materials Teaching notes are available for educators only. Subject code CSS 3: Entrepreneurship.

Abstract. The final result of the Perczel Project was born after ten years of research at the Department of Cartography and Geoinformatics of Eötvös Loránd University by end 2019. The plan was to completely reconstruct Perczel’s giant globe. The globe, dated 1862, was made by László Perczel and it is now kept in the Map Room of the National Széchényi Library. It is a unique manuscript globe with a diameter of 127.5 cm, but its condition was very poor (several serious defects and illegible labels). In addition to the cartographic tasks by the Department, it was necessary to involve graphic designers and object restorers, model makers, a wood restorer, a coppersmith and an engraver; they were all coordinated by the Archiflex Studio. As a result of their collaboration such globes were born which most probably look like the original manuscript product looked almost 160 years ago. The facsimile was made in three copies.Before the Archiflex Studio started to organize the work, the Department created – by processing 800 photographs – a digital virtual 3D facsimile to register the state of the globe. This globe was entered into the Virtual Globes Museum (http://terkeptar.elte.hu/vgm). The original large-resolution photos were also used for making the segments of the digital contentual globe map between 2008 and 2012. This intensive work (with the cooperation of several BSc, MSc and PhD students of cartography) produced a series of digitally recreated segments of the globe map, which were redrawn, recoloured, and registered the legible letters. The digital contentual facsimile was used to prepare the virtual 3D model, which was also placed in the Virtual Globes Museum in 2012.The work on the globe at the Department ceased in 2012–13, but continued in a half-year project in 2019, before the start of the actual physical reconstruction. The project was undertaken by Mátyás Márton, the head of the former Perczel Poject. The work meant that the digital contentual facsimile completed in 2012 had to be further processed: namely, the digital reconstruction of the globe map. Various cartographic challenges had to be solved to accomplish this task:The possible sources had to be identified: those maps and atlases had to be found that Perczel may have used for the preparation of his globe. The collected publications were compared to the easily readable parts of the globe; in this way, it was possible to select those that were probably used. These sources were considered basic sources for further work.The selected sources made it possible to achieve two goals: first, to complete the letters of place names that were partly illegible, and second, to add the graphical elements to those parts of the globe that had been completely destroyed.There was only limited time to carry out the above tasks, and at the same time, we had to serve those who were working on the production of the three facsimile globes under the direction of the artistic director of the project.This paper gives only an outline of the events of the progress of the digital recreation, that is the digital (virtual) contentual facsimile of the globe at the Department in the past more than ten years. It gives details on the cartographic tasks needed before the physical reconstruction. This made it possible to make the digital restoration and digital reconstruction of the globe map as complete as possible. As a result, it also became possible to prepare the virtual 3D model of the content of the reconstructed facsimile globe. In comparison to the state of the globe in 2012, altogether 2,872 graphical elements and 3,252 place name amendments and corrections were made in the project. Hill shading was added or completed on 318 places – mostly on the damaged parts. Further, the content of the badly damaged calendar ring was explored. (The study and reconstruction of the artistic drawing of the signs of the zodiac was done by a designer-graphic artist.) It is a cartographic interest that the points of the compass were written in old-style Hungarian words on the calendar frame (horizon ring), which are not used today.Finally, the authors present the contemporaneous facsimiles in their physical form, which is the result of the project coordinated by the Archiflex Studio (the 3D models can be seen in the VGM). The completion of these facsimiles makes this work of art – known as Perczel’s globe in map history – a common property representing great scientific and cultural value.

This study aims to explore the evolution of cultural and artistic spaces in the old city center of Gwangju, specifically along Chungjang-ro and Geumnam-ro, from the early 1900s to the 1970s. The evolution of these spaces, along with political and economic shifts, was categorized into; 1) the Japanese colonial era; 2) the US military regime and after; 3) the expansion of Geumnam-ro in the late 1960s, and 4) the 1970s. The research was based on literature and newspaper articles, and departed from existing studies that focused on physical changes in the city or the historical significance of a space, approaching them from a multifaceted perspective. The findings revealed that cultural and artistic spaces underwent dynamic changes amidst the rapid transformation of the cityscape: 1) Heunghakgwan, theaters, the Gwangju Theater, dabangs, and schools, 2) the Gwangju USIS, 3) media offices and key spaces in Geumnam-ro, and 4) the dabangs, the Student Hall, the Civic Hall, and art museums. The analysis shows how these spaces served various cultural purposes, offering a nuanced historical map of cultural and artistic spaces.

In recent years, Björk has defied pop music criticism’s persistent myth of male genius by asserting her authorship as a singer, songwriter, composer, and producer. She expressed these concerns during a 2015 Pitchfork interview with Jessica Hopper by reflecting on the press’s minimization of her production work throughout her career and her desire to reclaim her creative authority as a model for younger female-identified artists. During this portion of the conversation, she mused, “I’ve sometimes thought about releasing a map of all my albums and just making it clear who did what.” Her impulse to challenge masculinist creation myths through documentation became the catalyst for Björk: Sonic Symbolism, a 2022 podcast miniseries sponsored by Mailchimp in which she discussed her albums’ creative processes with friends Oddný Eir and Ásmundur Jónson in a series of interviews. The title, which Björk defines as “a visual shortcut to describe sound,” provides the podcast’s framework for her articulation of authorial control, which she examines through album art that illustrates each cover’s mood and character; poetic synopses of each album’s unique audiovisual language; and references to her various studio, video, and stage collaborators. By using close listening to examine Björk’s conversations with Eir and Jónson and the episodes’ illustrative song segments, this article posits that Björk’s engagement with podcasting as an audio storytelling medium allows her to foreground her distinct speaking and singing voice as both a feminist intervention upon the recording industry and as a sonic metaphor for authorial control.

The Gantour Phosphatic Basin (GPB) is formed by a sedimentary series of Maastrichtian to the Eocene age, which consists of alternating phosphate layers and sterile levels. This series outcrops in the northern part of the basin, where it is exploited in open-pit mines. The exploration methodology employed by the Office Chérifien des Phosphates (OCP) group to investigate the GPB is based on direct recognition with boreholes drilled on a 500 × 500 m grid. This research is concerned with the compilation and analysis of data collected during several drilling campaigns conducted on the central segment of the GPB, namely the Louta deposit. This research also includes acquiring, processing, and interpreting new geophysical and hydrogeological data. Its main objective is to provide a better understanding of the deep structure of the phosphatic series. Therefore, the present study was carried out according to a multidisciplinary approach that comprises three parts. (i) The first one involves geological modeling of the exploration borehole data using Datamine Studio RM software (version 1.4), developed by Datamine Corporate Ltd., (Bristol, United Kingdom). It results in establishing a series of geological cross-sections that display a detailed view of the deep structure of the phosphatic series and its lateral variations. (ii) The second part is related to the hydrogeological study, whose purpose was to elaborate on an accurate and updated piezometric map of the study area. The new map helps understand the groundwater flow in the Louta deposit. Furthermore, the superimposition of the piezometric level with the geological sections throws light on the flooded volume of phosphate in this deposit. (iii) The third part of the study focuses on implementing the Electrical Resistivity Tomography (ERT) method. The interpretation of the recorded geoelectrical data not only highlights the main features controlling the mode and the proportion of the phosphate series deepening under the Plio-Quaternary cover but also confirms the evolution of the overall structure of the studied area. The obtained 2D ERT models generally corroborate the cross-sections produced by geological modeling. They also correlate with the information provided by the hydrogeological study. Such information will help guide future hydrogeological and mining extraction planning in the studied area.

Estimation of 3D human pose from monocular image has gained considerable attention, as a key step to several human-centric applications. However, generalizability of human pose estimation models developed using supervision on large-scale in-studio datasets remains questionable, as these models often perform unsatisfactorily on unseen in-the-wild environments. Though weakly-supervised models have been proposed to address this shortcoming, performance of such models relies on availability of paired supervision on some related task, such as 2D pose or multi-view image pairs. In contrast, we propose a novel kinematic-structure-preserved unsupervised 3D pose estimation framework, which is not restrained by any paired or unpaired weak supervisions. Our pose estimation framework relies on a minimal set of prior knowledge that defines the underlying kinematic 3D structure, such as skeletal joint connectivity information with bone-length ratios in a fixed canonical scale. The proposed model employs three consecutive differentiable transformations namely forward-kinematics, camera-projection and spatial-map transformation. This design not only acts as a suitable bottleneck stimulating effective pose disentanglement, but also yields interpretable latent pose representations avoiding training of an explicit latent embedding to pose mapper. Furthermore, devoid of unstable adversarial setup, we re-utilize the decoder to formalize an energy-based loss, which enables us to learn from in-the-wild videos, beyond laboratory settings. Comprehensive experiments demonstrate our state-of-the-art unsupervised and weakly-supervised pose estimation performance on both Human3.6M and MPI-INF-3DHP datasets. Qualitative results on unseen environments further establish our superior generalization ability.

Abstract This paper discusses the adaptation of Rzeszow Castle in Rzeszow, Poland (also called the Castle of the House of Lubomirski in Rzeszow), which is a key building on the Subcarpathia’s map of monuments. The objective of the project was to identify the latest trends in conservation art, and, subsequently, to create a proposal for a contemporary interior arrangement for the castle and its site development. The aforementioned design work focused on creating new, innovative concepts for the revalorization of historical buildings, oriented towards development and modernity. The work presents bold, novel – and most importantly – workable solutions for a new functional programme for Rzeszow Castle. The main premise of the future modification of the monument was a complete change of use of the building: from administrative and office space (the current court) to a cultural facility with complementary functions. The proposals presented in the paper are aligned with new principles of cultural environment preservation, and primarily emphasize ideas that facilitate the development of culture and art, social engagement, and support new initiatives. The aforementioned new functional programme complements cultural facilities and events offered by the city of Rzeszow - the capital of the Subcarpathia Voivodeship (one of Poland's sixteen provinces). The article is based on thorough scientific and historical research. The characteristics of the building are presented, with focus on its architectural value, and the current state of preservation of the monument is described. The analysis of the functional-utility program became the basis for creating a contemporary and modern interior design. The final version of the interior plan was developed based on field studies and source research.

This article will attempt to “map” the class structure of Latin American societies on the basis of several recent empirical studies and statistics provided by such organizations as the International Labour Office (ILO), the Regional Employment Program for Latin America (PREALC), and the UN Economic Commission for Latin America (ECLA). This formal exercise should help clarify existing class structures by reducing a large and complex list of designations to a manageable number. On the basis of this classification, changes in class composition and struggles during the last two decades will then be examined. The article is thus divided in two parts, one dealing with class structure and the other with class dynamics.

AbstractThis article explores the part played by Sir Henry Dobbs, the ‘man on the spot’, in shaping the 1921 Anglo-Afghan Treaty. The treaty provisions being negotiated were important to the security of the Indian frontier, internally and internationally, as they defined the formal relationship between India and Afghanistan right through until Indian independence. In contrast with existing accounts, the analysis presented here contends that Dobbs did have a significant influence both on the negotiating process and on the eventual result. It demonstrates how in his role as chief negotiator Dobbs drew on experience and techniques that he had earlier acquired as a political officer in frontier areas. His aim seems to have been to influence matters so that the treaty would deliver on what he regarded as important while giving away nothing that he thought damaging. The article thus sheds light on how—in a novel and volatile context—Dobbs handled differing views in London and Delhi, and negotiated with the Amir. Given the necessary authority by the British Government, he finally arrived at an agreement accepted by the various parties—Afghans, the Viceroy and the British Government in London. The source for this revised perspective on the negotiations and fuller understanding of his role are Dobbs’ recently-discovered letters and private papers, previously unavailable to historians, together with a re-examination of official sources prompted by this new material.

The De'il cam fiddling thro' the town,And danced awa wi' the Exciseman;And ilka wife cried, ‘Auld Mahoun,We wish you luck o' your prize, man.’We'll mak our maut, and brew our drink,We'll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man;And mony thanks to the muckle black De'ilThat danced awa wi' the Exciseman.There's threesome reels, and foursome reels,There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man;But the ae best dance e'er came to our Ian',Was-the De'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman.(Robert Burns,The De'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman, 1792)In 1823 the English government introduced a new Act reducing the outrageous excise tax to levels that made it possible for enterprising Scots to come out of hiding and legally produce and sell their beloved whisky. (Bottle of Glenlivet malt whisky, 1990)In late December 1783, a desperate king took a seemingly desperate political step. With all of his other options exhausted, George III asked William Pitt, then only twenty-four years old, to form a government. In recognition of both the king's remarkable choice and the time of year, Pitt's critics, eagerly expecting the new administration to be short-lived, dubbed it the “mincepie administration.” The critics were of course wrong; Pitt survived not only that Christmas season but another twenty in office. Yet they had reason to be skeptical. For one of the “presents” delivered to the young chancellor of the Exchequer that first Christmas Eve was the preliminary report of a parliamentary committee, appointed under Lord Shelburne, “to enquire into the illicit practices used in defrauding the revenue.”

This paper reads colonial archives of malaria in conjunction with Amitav Ghosh’s futuristic medical thriller The Calcutta Chromosome (1995) and contends that the novel, loosely based on Sir Roland Ross, ruptures narratives of colonial expertise. The colonial expertise on malaria is embodied by Ross, an officer in the Indian Medical Service; this is in contrast with the model of expertise proposed by the novel. While Ross’s expertise is predicated on the domination of nature and controlling diseased tropical landscapes, the novel resists imperial strategies of mapping and disease control. This paper argues that The Calcutta Chromosome presents an alternative attempt to map the malarial, rewriting history by displacing actors such as Ross and instead placing two colonial subjects, Murugan and Mangala, at the centre of new mapping practices. The novel further questions the notion of ‘colonial improvement’ which malaria facilitated in imperial regimes. Deviating from the colonial history of improving the native body and landscape as a cure for malaria, the novel foregrounds subjugated subjects working at the peripheries of laboratories and scientific practices and thus subverts the notion of the ‘improved subject’ by proposing the idea of the mutational, transformational ‘Calcutta chromosome.’

Objective: To create a mobile application able to help patients follow medical treatments properly. Methods: We designed and developed a custom Android/iOS App to remind patients of the pharmaceutical drugs to be taken, of the visits and exams to attend, and to detect their compliance with their personal therapeutic plan. In this paper we describe the App development, UX/UI design, Gamification. TuTOR is an Android and iOS application designed to remind patients of the drugs to be taken, giving them all the information related to their therapeutic plans in a simple and non-invasive way. Thanks to a dedicated back-office, specially designed to meet specific medical information needs, the App can also help physicians detect their patients’ compliance with their treatments and modify prescriptions in real time. The App also ensures a state-of-the-art approach to data security and privacy protection. The main feature of TuTOR is the smart therapy assistant, which features dedicated alarms to remind users of taking their prescription drugs. Thanks to the automatic synchronization with a local database, the alert system works even without connection to the Internet. Particular attention was paid during the App’s design process: we looked to create an intuitive interface to ensure absolute ease of use, with state-of-the-art visual design aimed at maximizing user experience. Other relevant features include the App’s ability to givevisual evidence of the most important drugs to be taken and its note-taking feature, which gives patients the possibility to note down indications on why a specific drug was skipped. The App also keeps track of upcoming medical exams, laboratory tests, and visits on a devoted calendar. It also helps patients by listing therapy contacts, such as physicians’ phone numbers, and indicates all medical references by showing, for example, locations of relevant clinics and pharmacies on a map. Thanks to specific visual progress indicators and an innovative gamification approach, the App encourages users to faithfully follow therapy guidelines. With TuTOR, assessing the therapy’s state of completion is quick and easy.Thanksto the privacy-by-design approach used, all data managed by the system is compliant with the European Privacy Regulation and it is not available to third parties. Expected results: A mobile App for medication adherence might increase objectively and subjectively measured adherence.

On 19th November 2020, members of the Estonian Native Crafts programme of the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy held a conference entitled ‘Own Skin’. It took place at the Estonian Traditional Music Centre in Viljandi, and focussed on the use of animal hide as a material in handicraft and applied arts. The conference addressed domestic, as well as wild, animal hide, and presentations were made by individual producers, producers’ associations, and representatives of higher educational establishments. Vet, and President of the Kihnu Native Sheep Association, Anneli ÄrmpaluIdvand, asserted that all the products of that ancient breed are worthwhile. The most valuable is their double fleece, which has given them the reputation of providing warm sheepskin coats. She underlined the importance of an approach that makes use of all of the produce that can be derived from sheep. The President of the Estonian Sheep and Goat Breeders Association, Vallo Seera, gave an overview of the mass production dimension of the sheep-breeding industry where shearing and skinning are not planned separately. Taking care of the fleece, skinning, taking the hide to the tannery and processing it further, is all quite expensive, and this is why the hides are usually thrown away. In order to reduce such waste, the awareness of the processors, as well as of consumers, needs to be raised. A student of the leatherwork module at the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy and an animal protection activist, Kadri Võrel, gave a presentation about the use of wild animal hides in the past and nowadays. She underlined the fact that game hide is a so-called ‘fair leather’ and this should be taken into account when valorising it. The Managing Director of the Estonian Hunters’ Society, Tõnis Korts, presented an overview of the problems relating to animal hides from the point of view of hunters. The Estonian Hunters’ Society has made efforts to promote the better use of hides: its export is supervised, and courses have been held on the correct skinning techniques and initial processing, as well as on making leather items. The Head of the Native Craft Studies of the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy, Ave Matsin, presented the results of investigations into the use of animal skin in Estonia, which proved to be a surprisingly complicated issue. In order to map the information, it is first necessary to establish the precise role of institutions and the division of responsibilities between the ministries and the state boards. A member of the board of Skineks, Ingmar Baida, gave an overview of the only Estonian tannery, which is located in Jõgeva. Each year, Skineks tans approximately 50 000 lambskins and 100 goatskins. Hunters bring the animal hides to be tanned. Most often this is beaver hide. Out of the 7000–8000 beavers hunted per year, approximately 500 reach the Skineks tannery. A special feature of the vegetable tanning used by Skineks is that the skin is not pressed and therefore the leather maintains its unique surface structure. The head of the leatherwork module and lecturer in traditional leatherwork at Viljandi Culture Academy, Kristina Rajando, gave a presentation about the module and the work of students. The module includes studying animal lifecycles, and continues with skinning and leatherwork. Eve Kaaret, a leather artist and artisan at an accessories and bookbinding studio, discussed the long traditions of making footwear, bags and binding at the Leather Art Department of the Estonian Academy of Arts where leather is still preferred despite the arrival of several other materials. The Director of the Leather Art Department at Pallas University of Applied Sciences, Professor Rene Haljasmäe, surveyed the trends through exhibition pieces made by the students and the professor. In addition to leather art and design, Pallas also teaches students how to restore leather items. Just as it is at the Estonian Art Academy, the vegetable-tanned leather produced by Skineks is highly valued at Pallas too. The round-table discussion that followed the conference concentrated on what might be hindering the more widespread use of local skin and which steps might be taken to increase demand for Estonian local skin and the products that can be made from it.

On 19th November 2020, members of the Estonian Native Crafts programme of the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy held a conference entitled ‘Own Skin’. It took place at the Estonian Traditional Music Centre in Viljandi, and focussed on the use of animal hide as a material in handicraft and applied arts. The conference addressed domestic, as well as wild, animal hide, and presentations were made by individual producers, producers’ associations, and representatives of higher educational establishments. Vet, and President of the Kihnu Native Sheep Association, Anneli ÄrmpaluIdvand, asserted that all the products of that ancient breed are worthwhile. The most valuable is their double fleece, which has given them the reputation of providing warm sheepskin coats. She underlined the importance of an approach that makes use of all of the produce that can be derived from sheep. The President of the Estonian Sheep and Goat Breeders Association, Vallo Seera, gave an overview of the mass production dimension of the sheep-breeding industry where shearing and skinning are not planned separately. Taking care of the fleece, skinning, taking the hide to the tannery and processing it further, is all quite expensive, and this is why the hides are usually thrown away. In order to reduce such waste, the awareness of the processors, as well as of consumers, needs to be raised. A student of the leatherwork module at the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy and an animal protection activist, Kadri Võrel, gave a presentation about the use of wild animal hides in the past and nowadays. She underlined the fact that game hide is a so-called ‘fair leather’ and this should be taken into account when valorising it. The Managing Director of the Estonian Hunters’ Society, Tõnis Korts, presented an overview of the problems relating to animal hides from the point of view of hunters. The Estonian Hunters’ Society has made efforts to promote the better use of hides: its export is supervised, and courses have been held on the correct skinning techniques and initial processing, as well as on making leather items. The Head of the Native Craft Studies of the University of Tartu Viljandi Culture Academy, Ave Matsin, presented the results of investigations into the use of animal skin in Estonia, which proved to be a surprisingly complicated issue. In order to map the information, it is first necessary to establish the precise role of institutions and the division of responsibilities between the ministries and the state boards. A member of the board of Skineks, Ingmar Baida, gave an overview of the only Estonian tannery, which is located in Jõgeva. Each year, Skineks tans approximately 50 000 lambskins and 100 goatskins. Hunters bring the animal hides to be tanned. Most often this is beaver hide. Out of the 7000–8000 beavers hunted per year, approximately 500 reach the Skineks tannery. A special feature of the vegetable tanning used by Skineks is that the skin is not pressed and therefore the leather maintains its unique surface structure. The head of the leatherwork module and lecturer in traditional leatherwork at Viljandi Culture Academy, Kristina Rajando, gave a presentation about the module and the work of students. The module includes studying animal lifecycles, and continues with skinning and leatherwork. Eve Kaaret, a leather artist and artisan at an accessories and bookbinding studio, discussed the long traditions of making footwear, bags and binding at the Leather Art Department of the Estonian Academy of Arts where leather is still preferred despite the arrival of several other materials. The Director of the Leather Art Department at Pallas University of Applied Sciences, Professor Rene Haljasmäe, surveyed the trends through exhibition pieces made by the students and the professor. In addition to leather art and design, Pallas also teaches students how to restore leather items. Just as it is at the Estonian Art Academy, the vegetable-tanned leather produced by Skineks is highly valued at Pallas too. The round-table discussion that followed the conference concentrated on what might be hindering the more widespread use of local skin and which steps might be taken to increase demand for Estonian local skin and the products that can be made from it.

OBJECTIVES/SPECIFIC AIMS: We hypothesize that VL testing varies by geographic sub-region, country, age, gender, mode of transmission, year of diagnosis, and country of origin; and also that a higher prevalence of VL testing may be associated with higher prevalence of population-level VL suppression. Our primary aim is to determine country- and regional-level factors that are associated with viral load testing amongst HIV patients. Our secondary aim is to explore the association between prevalence of viral load testing and viral load suppression at the population level. METHODS/STUDY POPULATION: This is a retrospective analysis of de-identified individual-level data reported to the European Surveillance System (TESSy). The TESSy is a database of communicable diseases (including HIV) for the ECDC and WHO European Regional Office. It captures data from 31 European Union/European Economic Area (EU/EEA) countries and 23 non-EU/EEA countries. Stored data is from year 2000. TESSy is used for data analysis and production of outputs for public health action. The patient cohort include adults older 18 years, whose last clinic attendance was reported in 2014 or later, or whose viral load test was reported in the year of the visit or the year before the year of their last reported clinic attendance. Patient demographic data include age, sex, mode of transmission, country of origin (migrants), country of diagnosis, geographic region, last clinic attendance, viral load and therapy status. Geographic region will be categorized into East, West and Centre as per WHO guidelines. Countries will be categorized and analyzed according to their European Union (EU)-, European Economic Area (EEA)- and income (GDP)-status, using current World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) guidelines. All statistical analysis will be performed in R-Studio and R i386 3.0.2. Missing data will be characterized in terms of quantity (how much is missing) and pattern (random versus non-random) and impact on covariates to be tested. Multiple data imputations would be used in cases where missing data is found to be at random. Data from external sources like UNAIDS, World Bank and IMF will also be used for comparison and validation of TESSy data for imputation of missing data. Continuous variables will be analyzed through appropriate parametric and non-parametric tests while categorical variables will be analyzed through methods of proportion. Multivariate logistic regression methods will be used to explore the associations between VL testing and VL suppression separately with age, sex, year of diagnosis, country of origin (migrants), mode of transmission, in the total population, then at country- and regional-level. The same associations will be explored using a country’s EU and EEA status (EU versus EEA versus non-EU/EEA), and income status (high versus upper middle versus lower middle versus low). DISCUSSION/SIGNIFICANCE OF IMPACT: Even though this is a retrospective analysis of a database with likely significant missing data that may affect analysis of data and interpretation of results, our study will impact all levels of HIV policy across Europe. The strengths of this study likely outweigh the limitation imposed by missing data and include potential regional-, country- and demographic-specific public health, epidemiologic and ART program policy initiatives. Also our analysis of pattern of missing data may inform a more efficient and meaningful data collection and input into TESSy database.

ABSTRACTThis study aims to describe the packaging stages and produce Terang Bulan dance learning products in the form of Website-based audio visual media for Class X High School. Theories used in the research topic are packaging theory, learning materials, audio visual media and Website Based Learning The theory used in this research is the Theory of Steps for Packaging Material Based Learning Websites according to Lu'mu Tasri (2011: 17). The population in this study were students of the 2015 Bandung Dance Education Study Program and the sample in this study were 2 students of the 2015 Dance Education Education Study Program and Aunt Petti Manik as the resource persons in this study. Data collection techniques include field observations, interviews, documentation and literature studies. This research uses descriptive qualitative method. Analysis of media expert validation and material expert validation use a Likert scale to calculate the overall average. This research was conducted at the Dance Studio of Dance Education Study Program at the Faculty of Language and Arts Department of Dance for the packaging process carried out at the Laboratory of Dance Education Study Program at the Faculty of Dance. The results of the study note that there are 10 stages in packaging learning products for Terang Bulan Dance Material in the form of Website-based audio visual media for Class X Senior High School consisting of (1) determining the target of learning material (2) choosing a topic that suits the needs of the target (3) making material map (4) formulation of learning objectives (5) preparation of evaluation tools (6) collection of references (7) preparation of materials (8) editing (9) upload (10) testing. In the Validation stage, product validation involves 2 material expert validators and 1 media expert validator. This product gets a very good category with a detailed score of 4.6 from the material expert validation test, a score of 4.8 from the media expert validation test. The score proves that this learning video product is very good to be applied in the learning process of Culture and Art especially the Dance Class X High School. Students can learn this dance not only in the KBM process takes place or while in the classroom, but students can learn this dance for an unlimited time because this website is online. Not only students, anyone can learn this dance because the material uploaded to the website is directly connected to Youtobe. Keywords: Packaging, Audio Visual Media, Terang Bulan Learning Materials, Website ABSTRAK Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk mendeskripsikan tahapan pengemasan dan menghasilkan produk pembelajaran tari Terang Bulan dalam bentuk media audio visual berbasis Website untuk Kelas X Sekolah Menengah Atas.Teori-teori yang digunakan dalam topik penelitian yaitu teori pengemasan, materi pembelajaran, media audio visual dan Pembelajaran Berbasis Website. Teori yang digunakan dalam penelitian ini adalah Teori Langkah-langkah Pengemasan Materi Pembelajaran Berbasis Website menurut Lu’mu Tasri (2011:17). Populasi pada penelitian adalah Mahasiswa/i Prodi Pendidikan Tari stambuk 2015 dan sampel pada penelitian ini adalah 2 orang Mahasiswa/I Pendidikan Tari Stambuk 2015 dan Bibi Petti Manik selaku Narasumber pada penelitian ini. Teknik pengumpulan data meliputi observasi lapangan, wawancara, dokumentasi dan studi kepustakaan. Penelitian ini menggunkan metode deskriptif kualitatif. Analisis validasi ahli media dan validasi ahli materi memakai skala likert untuk menghitung rata-rata keseluruhannya. Penelitian ini dilaksanakan di Studio Tari Prodi Pendidikan Tari Jurusan Sendratasik Fakultas Bahasa dan Seni untuk proses pengemasan dilakukan di Laboratorium Prodi Pendidikan Tari Jurusan Sendratasik Fakultas Bahasa. Hasil Penelitian diketahui bahwa ada 10 tahapan dalam mengemas produk pembelajaran Materi Tari Terang Bulan bentuk media audio visual berbasis Website Untuk Kelas X Sekolah Menengah Atas terdiri dari (1) penentuan sasaran materi pembelajaran (2) pemilihan topik yang sesuai dengan kebutuhan sasaran (3) pembuatan peta materi (4) perumusan tujuan pembelajaran (5) penyusunan alat evaluasi (6) pengumpulan referensi (7) penyusunan bahan (8) editing (9) upload (10) testing. Pada tahap dilakukan validasi produk melibatkan 2 validator ahli materi dan 1 validator ahli media. Produk ini mendapat kategori sangat baik dengan rincian skor 4,6 dari uji validasi ahli materi, skor 4,8 dari uji validasi ahli media. Skor tersebut membuktikan bahwa produk video pembelajaran ini sangat baik untuk diterapkan dalam proses pembelajaran Seni Budaya khususnya bidang Seni Tari Kelas X SMA. Siswa dapat mempelajari tarian ini tidak hanya didalam proses KBM berangsung atau pada saat didalam kelas saja, akan tetapi siswa dapat mempelajari tarian ini dalam waktu yang tidak terbatas karena website ini bersifal online. Tidak hanya siswa, siapa saja pun dapat mempelajari tarian ini karena materi yang telah di unggah kedalam website langsung terhubung ke Youtobe. Kata kunci : Pengemasan, Media Audio Visual, Materi Pembelajaran Terang Bulan, Website

In the course of my research in archives – in search of documents about the history of the Art Foundation of the People’s Republic (from 1968 Art Fund) – while leafing through the sea of files in the National Archives of Hungary (MNL OL) year after year, I came across so-far unknown documents on the life and fate of Béla Kondor which had been overlooked by the special literature so far.Some reflected the character of the period from summer of 1956 to spring 1957, more precisely to the opening of the Spring Exhibition. In that spring, after relieving Rákosi of his office, the HWP (Hungarian Workers’ Party, Hun. MDP) cared less for “providing guidance for the arts”, as they were preoccupied with other, more troublesome problems. In the winter/spring after the revolution started on 23 October and crushed on 4 November the echelon of the HSWP (Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party, Hun. MSzMP) had not decided yet whether to strike a league with extreme leftist artistic groups or to pay heed to Memos Makris (Hun. Makrisz Agamemnon), the ministerial commissioner designing the reform of the artists’ association and organizing the Spring Exhibition and to leave the artists – so-far forced into the strait-jacket of socialist realism – alone. I found some documents which shed bright light on the narrow-mindedness of the dogmatic artistic policy trying to bend the artists toward its goals now with the whip, now with milk cake.I start the series of recovered documents with a ministerial file dated summer 1956 on the decision to purchase Kondor’s diploma work (the Dózsa cycle). The next piece of good news is a record of the committee meeting in February 1957 awarding Kondor a Derkovits scholarship. This is followed by ministerial letters – mirrors of the new artistic policy – by a changed, truly partyist scholarship committee which apparently revel in lecturing talented Kondor who was not willing to give up his sovereignty, so his works were often refused to be bought on state funds for museums.In addition to whip-lashing documents, I also present a few which offered some milk cake: a letter inviting him to a book illustrating competition called by the Petőfi Literary Museum and one commissioning him to make the sheets on the Heves county part of a “liberation album”.Next, I put forth a group of illumining documents – long known but never published in details: the files revealing the story of the large panels designed for the walls of the “Uranium city” kindergarten in Pécs and those revealing the preparations for the exhibition in Fényes Adolf gallery in 1960 and the causes of the concurrent tensions – including texts on decisions to hinder the publication of Lajos Németh’s catalogue introduction.The last group includes futile efforts by architects to get Kondor commissions for murals. They give information on three possible works. Another for Pécs again (this time with Tibor Csernus), for works for a “men’s hostel” and on the failure of the possibility. The other is about works for Kecskemét’s Aranyhomok Hotel, another failure. The third is about a glass window competition for a new modern hotel to be built in Salgótarján, to which Kondor was also invited, but the jury did not find his work satisfactory in spite of the fact that the officials representing the city’s “party and council” organs, and the powerful head of the county and town, the president of the county committee of the HSWP all were in favour of commissioning him.Mind you, the architects’ efforts to provide the handful of modern artists with orders for “abstract” works caused headache for the masterminds of controlled art policy, too. On the one hand, they also tried to get rid of the rigidity of the ideologically dogmatic period in line with “who is not against us, is with us”, the motto spreading with political détente, and to give room to these genres qualified as “decoration”. On the other hand, they did not want to give up the figurative works of socialist contents, which the architects wanted to keep away from their modern buildings. A compromise was born: Cultural Affairs and the Art Fund remained supporters of figurative works, and the “decorative” modern murals, mosaics and sculptures were allowed inside the buildings at the cost of the builders.Apart from architects, naturally there were other spokesmen in favour of Kondor (and Csernus and the rest of the shelved artists). In an essay in Új Irás in summer 1961 Lajos Németh simply branded it a waste to deprive Kondor of all channels except book illustration, while anonymous colleagues of the National Gallery guided an American curator to him who organized an exhibition of Kondor’s graphic works he had packed into his suitcase in the Museum of Modern Art in Miami.From the early 1963 – as the rest of the explored documents reveal – better times began in Hungarian internal and cultural politics, hence in Béla Kondor’s life, too. The beginning is marked by a – still “exclusive” – exhibition he could hold in the Young Artists’ Studio in January, followed by a long propitiatory article urging for publicity for Kondor by a young journalist of Magyar Nemzet, Attila Kristóf. Then, in December Kondor became the Grand Prix winner of the second Graphic Biennial of Miskolc.From then on, the documents are no longer about incomprehensible prohibitions or at time self-satisfying wickedness, but about exhibitions (the first in King Stephen Museum, Székesfehérvár), prizes (including the Munkácsy Prize in April 1965), purchases, the marvellous panel for the Grand Hotel on Margaret Island, the preparations for the Venice Biennale of 1968, the exhibition in Art Hall/Műcsarnok in 1970 and its success, and Kondor’s second Munkácsy Prize.Finally, I chanced upon a group of startling and sofar wholly unknown notes which reveals that Béla Kondor was being among the nominees for the 1973 Kossuth Prize. News of his death on 12 December 1972, documents about the museum deposition of his posthumous works and the above group of files close the account of his life.I wrote a detailed study to accompany the documents. My intention was not to explain them – as they speak for themselves – but to insert them in the life-story of Kondor, trying to find out which and how, to what extent contributed to the veering of his life-course and to possibilities of publicity for his works. I obviously included several further facts, partly in the main body of the text, and partly in footnotes. Without presenting them here, let me just pick one or two.Events around the 1960 exhibition kindled the attention not only of the deputy minister of culture György Aczél, but also of the Ministry of the Interior: as Anikó B. Nagy dug out, they asked for an agent’s report on who Kondor was, what role he was playing among young writers, architects, artists, the circle around Vigilia and the intellectuals in general. Also: what role did human cowardice play in banning the panels for the Pécs kindergarten, and how wicked it was – with regulations cited – to ask back the advance money from an artist already hardly making a living with the termination of the Der ko vits scholarship. Again: what turn did modern Hungarian architecture undergo in the early sixties to dare and challenge the still prevalent culture political red tape? It was also a special experience to track down and describe the preparations for the Hungarian exhibition of the Venice Biennial of 1968 and to see how much caution and manoeuvring was needed even in those milder years to get permission for Béla Kondor (in the company of Tibor Vilt and Ignác Kokas) to feature in the pavilion. Finally, it was informative to follow the routes of Kondor’s estate as state acquisitions and museum deposits after his death which foiled his Kossuth Prize.

AbstractPhilips Wouwerman(s) was undoubtedly the most accomplished and successful Dutch painter of equestrian scenes in the 17th century. Even so, neither a critical study of his work nor a documented biography has been published. The present essay not only presents the results of archive research but also outlines his artistic development. Besides the seven dated pictures by the artist known by Hofstede de Groot, several others have been discovered. Wouwerman was born in Haarlem, the eldest son of the painter Pouwels Joosten and his fourth wife, Susanna van den Bogert. Two other sons, Pieter and Johannes Wouwerman, were also to become painters. Wouwerman's grandfather originally came from Brussels. Philips probably received his first painting lessons from his father, none of whose work has been identified however, making it impossible to determine the extent of his influence on the son's work. According to Cornelis de Bie, Wouwerman was next apprenticed to Frans Hals. He is subsequently reputed to have spent several weeks in 1638 or 1639 working in Hamburg in the studio of the German history painter Evert Decker. In Hamburg he married Annetje Pietersz van Broeckhof. On 4 September 1640 Wouwerman became a member of the Haarlem painters' guild, in which he held the office of vinder in 1646. In the following years his presence in Haarlem is mentioned repeatedly. In view of the many southern elements in his landscapes it has frequently been suggested that Wouwerman travelled to France or Italy. However, there is no documentary evidence of his having left Haarlem for any length of time. Wouwerman died on 19 May 1668 and was buried on 23 May 1668 in the Nieuwe Kerk in Haarlem. He evidently attained a certain degree of prosperity, going by the relatively large sums of money each of his seven children inherited on his widow's death in 1670 and by the various houses he owned. No confirmation can be found of Arnold Houbraken's often quoted remark that Wouwerman's daughter Ludovica brought a dowry of 20,000 guilders with her in 1672 when she married the painter Hendrik de Fromantiou (1633/34 - after 1694). Wouwerman's oeuvre consists mainly of small cabinet pieces with horses, such as battle and hunting scenes, army camps, smithies and interiors of stables. He also painted sensitively executed silvery-grey landscapes, genre pieces and a few original representations of religious and mythological scenes. Wouwerman was also exceptionally prolific. Although he only lived to the age of 48, more than a thousand paintings bear his name. Even when one bears in mind that a number of these paintings should actually be attributed to his brothers Pieter and Jan, Philips left an extraordinarily large oeuvre. Only a small number of drawings by his hand are known. His pupils include Nicolaes Ficke, Jacob Warnars, Emanuel Murant and his brothers Pieter (1623-1682) and Jan Wouwerman (1629-1666). He had many followers and his paintings were much sought after in the i8th and early 19th centuries, especially in France. Important collections created during that period, including those which form the nuclei of the museums in St Petersburg, Dresden and The Hague, all contain a large number of his works. Establishing a chronology with respect to Philips Wouwerman's work is extremely problematic. His extensive oeuvre notwithstanding, only a comparatively small number of paintings are dated. The style of the signature enables us to date pictures only within wide margins: the monogram composed of P, H, and W was only used before 1646; thenceforth he used a monogram composed of PHILS and W. Wouwerman's earliest dated work, of 1639 (sale London, Christie's, October 10, 1972), is of minor quality. However, during the 1640s his talents improved rapidly. During that period he was strongly influenced by the Haarlem painter Pieter van Laer (1599 - after 1642) with respect to both style and subject matter. This tallies with Houbraken's remark that Wouwerman laid his hands on sketches and studies by Van Laer after that artist's death. Van Laer's influence is evident in Attack on a Coach, dated 1644, in the collection of the Prince of Liechtenstein, Vaduz. Several figures and details are quotations from works by Van Laer. Most of Wouwerman's compositions of the mid-1640os are dominated by a diagonally placed hill or dune covering most of the horizon, a tree - often dead - as a repoussoir and a few rather large figures, usually with horses. Landscape with Peasants Merrymaking in front of a Cottage in the City Art Gallery, Manchester, Battle Scene in the National Gallery, London and Landscape with a Resting Horseman in the Museum der Bildcnden Künste, Leipzig, all dated 1646, are proof that Wouwerman gradually developed his own style; nonetheless, Van Laer continued to be an important source of inspiration. As demonstrated by the four known dated paintings of 1649, the artist had replaced his sombre palette for a more colourful one by that time, and had also adopted a predominantly more horizontal scheme for his compositions. During that same period Wouwerman' pictures came to reflect a growing interest in landscape, and in the first half of the 1650s he produced a number of paintings which bear witness to his mastery of the landscape idiom. In a Landscape with Horsemen, of 1652, in a private British collection, painted in silvery tones, the figures and horses are reduced to a fairly insignificant staffage. Genre elements continued to play an important role in most of his paintings, though. One of his most successful works of that period is the Festive Peasants before a Panorama, dated 1653, in the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Perhaps nowhere else in his oeuvre did the artist succeed in producing such a happy synthesis of genre and landscape elements. In the second half of the 1650s Wouwerman painted many of the fanciful hunting scenes - often with a vaguely Italian setting and brighter local colours - which were particularly sought after in the 18th and early 19th centuries. Only a few dated works from the last decade of his life have been preserved, but they do show a tendency towards more sombre colours and suggest a slight decline in his artistic skills. Van Laer's stylistic influence on Wouwerman had almost disappeared by then, although it continued to play a major role in terms of subject matter. After the middle of the 19th century Wouwerman's popularity waned, but more recently his work has met with increasing acclaim.

We’ll have trouble now!The Archaeological Society of Jutland was founded on Sunday, 11 March 1951. As with most projects with which P.V Glob was involved, this did not pass off without drama. Museum people and amateur archaeologists in large numbers appeared at the Museum of Natural History in Aarhus, which had placed rooms at our disposal. The notable dentist Holger Friis, the uncrowned king of Hjørring, was present, as was Dr Balslev from Aidt, Mr and Mrs Overgaard from Holstebro Museum, and the temperamental leader of Aalborg Historical Museum, Peter Riismøller, with a number of his disciples. The staff of the newly-founded Prehistoric Museum functioned as the hosts, except that one of them was missing: the instigator of the whole enterprise, Mr Glob. As the time for the meeting approached, a cold sweat broke out on the foreheads of the people present. Finally, just one minute before the meeting was to start, he arrived and mounted the platform. Everything then went as expected. An executive committee was elected after some discussion, laws were passed, and then suddenly Glob vanished again, only to materialise later in the museum, where he confided to us that his family, which included four children, had been enlarged by a daughter.That’s how the society was founded, and there is not much to add about this. However, a few words concerning the background of the society and its place in a larger context may be appropriate. A small piece of museum history is about to be unfolded.The story begins at the National Museum in the years immediately after World War II, at a time when the German occupation and its incidents were still terribly fresh in everyone’s memory. Therkel Mathiassen was managing what was then called the First Department, which covered the prehistoric periods.Although not sparkling with humour, he was a reliable and benevolent person. Number two in the order of precedence was Hans Christian Broholm, a more colourful personality – awesome as he walked down the corridors, with his massive proportions and a voice that sounded like thunder when nothing seemed to be going his way, as quite often seemed to be the case. Glob, a relatively new museum keeper, was also quite loud at times – his hot-blooded artist’s nature manifested itself in peculiar ways, but his straight forward appearance made him popular with both the older and the younger generations. His somewhat younger colleague C.J. Becker was a scholar to his fingertips, and he sometimes acted as a welcome counterbalance to Glob. At the bottom of the hierarchy was the student group, to which I belonged. The older students handled various tasks, including periodic excavations. This was paid work, and although the salary was by no means princely, it did keep us alive. Student grants were non-existent at the time. Four of us made up a team: Olfert Voss, Mogens Ørsnes, Georg Kunwald and myself. Like young people in general, we were highly discontented with the way our profession was being run by its ”ruling” members, and we were full of ideas for improvement, some of which have later been – or are being – introduced.At the top of our wish list was a central register, of which Voss was the strongest advocate. During the well over one hundred years that archaeology had existed as a professional discipline, the number of artefacts had grown to enormous amounts. The picture was even worse if the collections of the provincial museums were taken into consideration. We imagined how it all could be registered in a card index and categorised according to groups to facilitate access to references in any particular situation. Electronic data processing was still unheard of in those days, but since the introduction of computers, such a comprehensive record has become more feasible.We were also sceptical of the excavation techniques used at the time – they were basically adequate, but they badly needed tightening up. As I mentioned before, we were often working in the field, and not just doing minor jobs but also more important tasks, so we had every opportunity to try out our ideas. Kunwald was the driving force in this respect, working with details, using sections – then a novelty – and proceeding as he did with a thoroughness that even his fellow students found a bit exaggerated at times, although we agreed with his principles. Therkel Mathiassen moaned that we youngsters were too expensive, but he put up with our excesses and so must have found us somewhat valuable. Very valuable indeed to everyon e was Ejnar Dyggve’s excavation of the Jelling mounds in the early 1940s. From a Danish point of view, it was way ahead of its time.Therkel Mathiassen justly complained about the economic situation of the National Museum. Following the German occupation, the country was impoverished and very little money was available for archaeological research: the total sum available for the year 1949 was 20,000 DKK, which corresponded to the annual income of a wealthy man, and was of course absolutely inadequate. Of course our small debating society wanted this sum to be increased, and for once we didn’t leave it at the theoretical level.Voss was lucky enough to know a member of the Folketing (parliament), and a party leader at that. He was brought into the picture, and between us we came up with a plan. An article was written – ”Preserve your heritage” (a quotation from Johannes V. Jensen’s Denmark Song) – which was sent to the newspaper Information. It was published, and with a little help on our part the rest of the media, including radio, picked up the story.We informed our superiors only at the last minute, when everything was arranged. They were taken by surprise but played their parts well, as expected, and everything went according to plan. The result was a considerable increase in excavation funds the following year.It should be added that our reform plans included the conduct of exhibitions. We found the traditional way of presenting the artefacts lined up in rows and series dull and outdated. However, we were not able to experiment within this field.Our visions expressed the natural collision with the established ways that comes with every new generation – almost as a law of nature, but most strongly when the time is ripe. And this was just after the war, when communication with foreign colleagues, having been discontinued for some years, was slowly picking up again. The Archaeological Society of Jutland was also a part of all this, so let us turn to what Hans Christian Andersen somewhat provocatively calls the ”main country”.Until 1949, only the University of Copenhagen provided a degree in prehistoric archaeology. However, in this year, the University of Aarhus founded a chair of archaeology, mainly at the instigation of the Lord Mayor, Svend Unmack Larsen, who was very in terested in archaeology. Glob applied for the position and obtained it, which encompassed responsibility for the old Aarhus Museum or, as it was to be renamed, the Prehistoric Museum (now Moesgaard Museum).These were landmark events to Glob – and to me, as it turned out. We had been working together for a number of years on the excavation of Galgebakken (”Callows Hill”) near Slots Bjergby, Glob as the excavation leader, and I as his assistant. He now offered me the job of museum curator at his new institution. This was somewhat surprising as I had not yet finished my education. The idea was that I was to finish my studies in remote Jutland – a plan that had to be given up rather quickly, though, for reasons which I will describe in the following. At the same time, Gunner Lange-Kornbak – also hand-picked from the National Museum – took up his office as a conservation officer.The three of us made up the permanent museum staff, quickly supplemented by Geoffrey Bibby, who turned out to be an invaluable colleague. He was English and had been stationed in the Faeroe Islands during the war, where he learned to speak Danish. After 1945 he worked for some years for an oil company in the Gulf of Persia, but after marrying Vibeke, he settled in her home town of Aarhus. As his academic background had involved prehistoric cultures he wanted to collaborate with the museum, which Glob readily permitted.This small initial flock governed by Glob was not permitted to indulge inidleness. Glob was a dynamic character, full of good and not so good ideas, but also possessing a good grasp of what was actually practicable. The boring but necessary daily work on the home front was not very interesting to him, so he willingly handed it over to others. He hardly noticed the lack of administrative machinery, a prerequisite for any scholarly museum. It was not easy to follow him on his flights of fancy and still build up the necessary support base. However, the fact that he in no way spared himself had an appeasing effect.Provincial museums at that time were of a mixed nature. A few had trained management, and the rest were run by interested locals. This was often excellently done, as in Esbjerg, where the master joiner Niels Thomsen and a staff of volunteers carried out excavations that were as good as professional investigations, and published them in well-written articles. Regrettably, there were also examples of the opposite. A museum curator in Jutland informed me that his predecessor had been an eager excavator but very rarely left any written documentation of his actions. The excavated items were left without labels in the museum store, often wrapped in newspapers. However, these gave a clue as to the time of unearthing, and with a bit of luck a look in the newspaper archive would then reveal where the excavation had taken place. Although somewhat exceptional, this is not the only such case.The Museum of Aarhus definitely belonged among the better ones in this respect. Founded in 1861, it was at first located at the then town hall, together with the local art collection. The rooms here soon became too cramped, and both collections were moved to a new building in the ”Mølleparken” park. There were skilful people here working as managers and assistants, such as Vilhelm Boye, who had received his archaeological training at the National Museum, and later the partners A. Reeh, a barrister, and G.V. Smith, a captain, who shared the honour of a number of skilfully performed excavations. Glob’s predecessor as curator was the librarian Ejler Haugsted, also a competent man of fine achievements. We did not, thus, take over a museum on its last legs. On the other hand, it did not meet the requirements of a modern scholarly museum. We were given the task of turning it into such a museum, as implied by the name change.The goal was to create a museum similar to the National Museum, but without the faults and shortcomings that that museum had developed over a period of time. In this respect our nightly conversations during our years in Copenhagen turned out to be useful, as our talk had focused on these imperfections and how to eradicate them.We now had the opportunity to put our theories into practice. We may not have succeeded in doing so, but two areas were essentially improved:The numerous independent numbering systems, which were familiar to us from the National Museum, were permeating archaeological excavation s not only in the field but also during later work at the museum. As far as possible this was boiled down to a single system, and a new type of report was born. (In this context, a ”report” is the paper following a field investigation, comprising drawings, photos etc. and describing the progress of the work and the observations made.) The instructions then followed by the National Museum staff regarding the conduct of excavations and report writing went back to a 19th-century protocol by the employee G.V. Blom. Although clear and rational – and a vast improvement at the time – this had become outdated. For instance, the excavation of a burial mound now involved not only the middle of the mound, containing the central grave and its surrounding artefacts, but the complete structure. A large number of details that no one had previously paid attention to thus had to be included in the report. It had become a comprehensive and time-consuming work to sum up the desultory notebook records in a clear and understandable description.The instructions resulting from the new approach determined a special records system that made it possible to transcribe the notebook almost directly into a report following the excavation. The transcription thus contained all the relevant information concerning the in vestigation, and included both relics and soil layers, the excavation method and practical matters, although in a random order. The report proper could then bereduced to a short account containing references to the numbers in the transcribed notebook, which gave more detailed information.As can be imagined, the work of reform was not a continuous process. On the contrary, it had to be done in our spare hours, which were few and far between with an employer like Glob. The assignments crowded in, and the large Jutland map that we had purchased was as studded with pins as a hedge hog’s spines. Each pin represented an inuninent survey, and many of these grew into small or large excavations. Glob himself had his lecture duties to perform, and although he by no means exaggerated his concern for the students, he rarely made it further than to the surveys. Bibby and I had to deal with the hard fieldwork. And the society, once it was established, did not make our lives any easier. Kuml demanded articles written at lightning speed. A perusal of my then diary has given me a vivid recollection of this hectic period, in which I had to make use of the evening and night hours, when the museum was quiet and I had a chance to collect my thoughts. Sometimes our faithful supporter, the Lord Mayor, popped in after an evening meeting. He was extremely interested in our problems, which were then solved according to our abilities over a cup of instant coffee.A large archaeological association already existed in Denmark. How ever, Glob found it necessary to establish another one which would be less oppressed by tradition. Det kongelige nordiske Oldsskriftselskab had been funded in 1825 and was still influenced by different peculiarities from back then. Membership was not open to everyone, as applications were subject to recommendation from two existing members and approval by a vote at one of the monthly lecture meetings. Most candidates were of course accepted, but unpopular persons were sometimes rejected. In addition, only men were admitted – women were banned – but after the war a proposal was brought forward to change this absurdity. It was rejected at first, so there was a considerable excitement at the January meeting in 1951, when the proposal was once again placed on the agenda. The poor lecturer (myself) did his best, although he was aware of the fact that just this once it was the present and not the past which was the focus of attention. The result of the voting was not very courteous as there were still many opponents, but the ladies were allowed in, even if they didn’t get the warmest welcome.In Glob’s society there were no such restrictions – everyone was welcome regardless of sex or age. If there was a model for the society, it was the younger and more progressive Norwegian Archaeological Society rather than the Danish one. The main purpose of both societies was to produce an annual publication, and from the start Glob’s Kuml had a closer resemblance to the Norwegian Viking than to the Danish Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie. The name of the publication caused careful consideration. For a long time I kept a slip of paper with different proposals, one of which was Kuml, which won after having been approved by the linguist Peter Skautrup.The name alone, however, was not enough, so now the task became to find so mething to fill Kuml with. To this end the finds came in handy, and as for those, Glob must have allied him self with the higher powers, since fortune smiled at him to a considerable extent. Just after entering upon his duties in Aarhus, an archaeological sensation landed at his feet. This happened in May 1950 when I was still living in the capital. A few of us had planned a trip to Aarhus, partly to look at the relics of th e past, and partly to visit our friend, the professor. He greeted us warmly and told us the exciting news that ten iron swords had been found during drainage work in the valley of lllerup Aadal north of the nearby town of Skanderborg. We took the news calmly as Glob rarely understated his affairs, but our scepticism was misplaced. When we visited the meadow the following day and carefully examined the dug-up soil, another sword appeared, as well as several spear and lance heads, and other iron artefacts. What the drainage trench diggers had found was nothing less than a place of sacrifice for war booty, like the four large finds from the 1800s. When I took up my post in Aarhus in September of that year I was granted responsibility for the lllerup excavation, which I worked on during the autumn and the following six summers. Some of my best memories are associated with this job – an interesting and happy time, with cheerful comradeship with a mixed bunch of helpers, who were mainly archaeology students. When we finished in 1956, it was not because the site had been fully investigated, but because the new owner of the bog plot had an aversion to archaeologists and their activities. Nineteen years later, in 1975, the work was resumed, this time under the leadership of Jørgen Ilkjær, and a large amount of weaponry was uncovered. The report from the find is presently being published.At short intervals, the year 1952 brought two finds of great importance: in Februar y the huge vessel from Braa near Horsens, and in April the Grauballe Man. The large Celtic bronze bowl with the bulls’ heads was found disassembled, buried in a hill and covered by a couple of large stones. Thanks to the finder, the farmer Søren Paaske, work was stopped early enough to leave areas untouched for the subsequent examination.The saga of the Grauballe Man, or the part of it that we know, began as a rumour on the 26th of April: a skeleton had been found in a bog near Silkeborg. On the following day, which happened to be a Sunday, Glob went off to have a look at the find. I had other business, but I arrived at the museum in the evening with an acquaintance. In my diary I wrote: ”When we came in we had a slight shock. On the floor was a peat block with a corpse – a proper, well-preserved bog body. Glob brought it. ”We’ll be in trouble now.” And so we were, and Glob was in high spirits. The find created a sensation, which was also thanks to the quick presentation that we mounted. I had purchased a tape recorder, which cost me a packet – not a small handy one like the ones you get nowadays, but a large monstrosity with a steel tape (it was, after all, early days for this device) – and assisted by several experts, we taped a number of short lectures for the benefit of the visitors. People flocked in; the queue meandered from the exhibition room, through the museum halls, and a long way down the street. It took a long wait to get there, but the visitors seemed to enjoy the experience. The bog man lay in his hastily – procured exhibition case, which people circled around while the talking machine repeatedly expressed its words of wisdom – unfortunately with quite a few interruptions as the tape broke and had to be assembled by hand. Luckily, the tape recorders now often used for exhibitions are more dependable than mine.When the waves had died down and the exhibition ended, the experts examined the bog man. He was x-rayed at several points, cut open, given a tooth inspection, even had his fingerprints taken. During the autopsy there was a small mishap, which we kept to ourselves. However, after almost fifty years I must be able to reveal it: Among the organs removed for investigation was the liver, which was supposedly suitable for a C-14 dating – which at the time was a new dating method, introduced to Denmark after the war. The liver was sent to the laboratory in Copenhagen, and from here we received a telephone call a few days later. What had been sent in for examination was not the liver, but the stomach. The unfortunate (and in all other respects highly competent) Aarhus doctor who had performed the dissection was cal1ed in again. During another visit to the bogman’s inner parts he brought out what he believed to be the real liver. None of us were capable of deciding th is question. It was sent to Copenhagen at great speed, and a while later the dating arrived: Roman Iron Age. This result was later revised as the dating method was improved. The Grauballe Man is now thought to have lived before the birth of Christ.The preservation of the Grauballe Man was to be conservation officer Kornbak’s masterpiece. There were no earlier cases available for reference, so he invented a new method, which was very successful. In the first volumes of Kuml, society members read about the exiting history of the bog body and of the glimpses of prehistoric sacrificial customs that this find gave. They also read about the Bahrain expeditions, which Glob initiated and which became the apple of his eye. Bibby played a central role in this, as it was he who – at an evening gathering at Glob’s and Harriet’s home in Risskov – described his stay on the Persian Gulf island and the numerous burial mounds there. Glob made a quick decision (one of his special abilities was to see possibilities that noone else did, and to carry them out successfully to everyone’s surprise) and in December 1952 he and Bibby left for the Gulf, unaware of the fact that they were thereby beginning a series of expeditions which would continue for decades. Again it was Glob’s special genius that was the decisive factor. He very quickly got on friendly terms with the rulers of the small sheikhdoms and interested them in their past. As everyone knows, oil is flowing plentifully in those parts. The rulers were thus financially powerful and some of this wealth was quickly diverted to the expeditions, which probably would not have survived for so long without this assistance. To those of us who took part in them from time to time, the Gulf expeditions were an unforgettable experience, not just because of the interesting work, but even more because of the contact with the local population, which gave us an insight into local manners and customs that helped to explain parts of our own country’s past which might otherwise be difficult to understand. For Glob and the rest of us did not just get close to the elite: in spite of language problems, our Arab workers became our good friends. Things livened up when we occasionally turned up in their palm huts.Still, co-operating with Glob was not always an easy task – the sparks sometimes flew. His talent of initiating things is of course undisputed, as are the lasting results. He was, however, most attractive when he was in luck. Attention normally focused on this magnificent person whose anecdotes were not taken too seriously, but if something went wrong or failed to work out, he could be grossly unreasonable and a little too willing to abdicate responsibility, even when it was in fact his. This might lead to violent arguments, but peace was always restored. In 1954, another museum curator was attached to the museum: Poul Kjærum, who was immediately given the important task of investigating the dolmen settlement near Tustrup on Northern Djursland. This gave important results, such as the discovery of a cult house, which was a new and hitherto unknown Stone Age feature.A task which had long been on our mind s was finally carried out in 1955: constructing a new display of the museum collections. The old exhibitio n type consisted of numerous artefacts lined up in cases, accompaied ony by a brief note of the place where it was found and the type – which was the standard then. This type of exhibition did not give much idea of life in prehistoric times.We wanted to allow the finds to speak for themselves via the way that they were arranged, and with the aid of models, photos and drawings. We couldn’t do without texts, but these could be short, as people would understand more by just looking at the exhibits. Glob was in the Gulf at the time, so Kjærum and I performed the task with little money but with competent practical help from conservator Kornbak. We shared the work, but in fairness I must add that my part, which included the new lllerup find, was more suitable for an untraditional display. In order to illustrate the confusion of the sacrificial site, the numerous bent swords and other weapons were scattered a.long the back wall of the exhibition hall, above a bog land scape painted by Emil Gregersen. A peat column with inlaid slides illustrated the gradual change from prehistoric lake to bog, while a free-standing exhibition case held a horse’s skeleton with a broken skull, accompanied by sacrificial offerings. A model of the Nydam boat with all its oars sticking out hung from the ceiling, as did the fine copy of the Gundestrup vessel, as the Braa vessel had not yet been preserved. The rich pictorial decoration of the vessel’s inner plates was exhibited in its own case underneath. This was an exhibition form that differed considerably from all other Danish exhibitions of the time, and it quickly set a fashion. We awaited Glob’s homecoming with anticipation – if it wasn’t his exhibition it was still made in his spirit. We hoped that he would be surprised – and he was.The museum was thus taking shape. Its few employees included Jytte Ræbild, who held a key position as a secretary, and a growing number of archaeology students who took part in the work in various ways during these first years. Later, the number of employees grew to include the aforementioned excavation pioneer Georg Kunwald, and Hellmuth Andersen and Hans Jørgen Madsen, whose research into the past of Aarhus, and later into Danevirke is known to many, and also the ethnographer Klaus Ferdinand. And now Moesgaard appeared on the horizon. It was of course Glob’s idea to move everything to a manor near Aarhus – he had been fantasising about this from his first Aarhus days, and no one had raised any objections. Now there was a chance of fulfilling the dream, although the actual realisation was still a difficult task.During all this, the Jutland Archaeological Society thrived and attracted more members than expected. Local branches were founded in several towns, summer trips were arranged and a ”Worsaae Medal” was occasionally donated to persons who had deserved it from an archaeological perspective. Kuml came out regularly with contributions from museum people and the like-minded. The publication had a form that appealed to an inner circle of people interested in archaeology. This was the intention, and this is how it should be. But in my opinion this was not quite enough. We also needed a publication that would cater to a wider public and that followed the same basic ideas as the new exhibition.I imagined a booklet, which – without over-popularsing – would address not only the professional and amateur archaeologist but also anyone else interested in the past. The result was Skalk, which (being a branch of the society) published its fir t issue in the spring of 1957. It was a somewhat daring venture, as the financial base was weak and I had no knowledge of how to run a magazine. However, both finances and experience grew with the number of subscribers – and faster than expected, too. Skalk must have met an unsatisfied need, and this we exploited to the best of our ability with various cheap advertisements. The original idea was to deal only with prehistoric and medieval archaeology, but the historians also wanted to contribute, and not just the digging kind. They were given permission, and so the topic of the magazine ended up being Denmark’s past from the time of its first inhabitant s until the times remembered by the oldest of us – with the odd sideways leap to other subjects. It would be impossible to claim that Skalk was at the top of Glob’s wish list, but he liked it and supported the idea in every way. The keeper of national antiquities, Johannes Brøndsted, did the same, and no doubt his unreserved approval of the magazine contributed to its quick growth. Not all authors found it easy to give up technical language and express themselves in everyday Danish, but the new style was quickly accepted. Ofcourse the obligations of the magazine work were also sometimes annoying. One example from the diary: ”S. had promised to write an article, but it was overdue. We agreed to a final deadline and when that was overdue I phoned again and was told that the author had gone to Switzerland. My hair turned grey overnight.” These things happened, but in this particular case there was a happy ending. Another academic promised me three pages about an excavation, but delivered ten. As it happened, I only shortened his production by a third.The 1960s brought great changes. After careful consideration, Glob left us to become the keeper of national antiquities. One important reason for his hesitation was of course Moesgaard, which he missed out on – the transfer was almost settled. This was a great loss to the Aarhus museum and perhaps to Glob, too, as life granted him much greater opportunities for development.” I am not the type to regret things,” he later stated, and hopefully this was true. And I had to choose between the museum and Skalk – the work with the magazine had become too timeconsuming for the two jobs to be combined. Skalk won, and I can truthfully say that I have never looked back. The magazine grew quickly, and happy years followed. My resignation from the museum also meant that Skalk was disengaged from the Jutland Archaeological Society, but a close connection remained with both the museum and the society.What has been described here all happened when the museum world was at the parting of the ways. It was a time of innovation, and it is my opinion that we at the Prehistoric Museum contributed to that change in various ways.The new Museum Act of 1958 gave impetus to the study of the past. The number of archaeology students in creased tremendously, and new techniques brought new possibilities that the discussion club of the 1940s had not even dreamt of, but which have helped to make some of the visions from back then come true. Public in terest in archaeology and history is still avid, although to my regret, the ahistorical 1960s and 1970s did put a damper on it.Glob is greatly missed; not many of his kind are born nowadays. He had, so to say, great virtues and great fault s, but could we have done without either? It is due to him that we have the Jutland Archaeological Society, which has no w existed for half a century. Congr tulat ion s to the Society, from your offspring Skalk.Harald AndersenSkalk MagazineTranslated by Annette Lerche Trolle

The paper aims at proposing a digital project based on the creation of a platform through which to explore the historical soundscape of early modern Modena. Thanks to the use of state-of-the-art web development tools and Geographic Information Systems, the platform will feature an interactive search and navigation environment, plus an interactive map with geo-localized objects and events. This will offer the chance to have new points of view to study a city and its spectacular development. Our project also intends to propose a multidisciplinary model for historical research and provide new ideas for the enhancement of cultural heritage.

Indonesia has the potential in the field of creative economics especially animation. Although its contribution to GDP is only 0.17%, the film, animation & video sub-sector is among the three sub-sectors with the highest growth of 10.09%. The least contribution to GDP is because the animation industry ecosystem has not been well developed. One of the steps that can be taken to build an animation industry ecosystem is learning from the animation industry that is considered successful. "Si Juki The Movie Panitia Hari Akhir" widescreen animation is considered as successful animation because it is able to become box office animation by breaking the number of spectators' record for Indonesian-produced widescreen animations and has a complete journey like anime.The purpose of this study is to map the core business of widescreen animation industrial ecosystem "Si Juki The Movie Panitia Hari Akhir". This study uses qualitative research methods with a case study approach. Data collection uses literature studies, interviews and audio videos. From this research it is known that in Si Juki The Movie widescreen animation ecosystem, core business consists of "Faza" as Si Juki's IP creator, "Falcon Picture" as the producer and "Kumata Animation Studio" as the studio that produces Si Juki The Movie widescreen animation. Each core business builds a broader partnership called extended enterprise. The results of "Si Juki's The Movie Panitia Hari Akhir" animation movie ecosystem analysis can developed into a animation movie industrial ecosystem model.

ABSTRAKPerancangan Interior Pusat Seni Tari Tradisi Surakarta di Surakarta ini adalah pusat kesenian tari sebagai wadah kesenian seni tari tradisi Surakarta. Fasilitas-fasilitas yang ada meliputi lobby di dalamnya terdapat ruang tunggu dan resepsionis, auditorium, galery, studio tari, perpustakaan, ruang pelatihan rias busana, mess, cafetaria, kantor, ruang kesehatan dan ruang servis. Fasilitas-fasilitas tersebut dilengkapi dengan prasarana yang membuat pusat seni tari tradisi Surakarta ini menjadi pusat melengembangkan kesenian tari tradisi Surakarta. Konsep yang dipakai adalah “SRIKANDI”’ dengan mengangkat gaya postmodern. Warna digunakan untuk memberi sentuhan ciri khas srikandi yang memiliki sifat tegas, berani dan tenang. Sirkulasi ruang ditata seefektif mungkin untuk memudahkan pengguna. Selain itu penggunaan bahan, furniture yang fungsional dan peletakan patung-patung memperkuat tema.Kata kunci : Perancangan interior, seni tari tradisi, srikandi ABSTRACTInterior Design Dance Center in Surakarta Surakarta tradition is dance arts center as a place of artistic dance of the Surakarta tradition. The facilities there include the lobby in which there is the lounge and reception, auditorium, gallery, dance studio, library, fashion makeup training, dormitory, cafeteria, office, health room and room service. These facilities are equipped with infrastructure that makes a traditional dance arts center is the center of Surakarta melengembangkan Surakarta dance arts tradition. The concept used is "SRIKANDI '' by lifting the postmodern style. Color is used to give a touch of characteristic heroine for his firm stance, bold and quiet. Circulation space laid out as effectively as possible to facilitate the users. In addition the use of materials, functional furniture and laying sculptures reinforces the theme. Keywords: interior design, art of dance traditions, heroine

IntroductionTraditionally, suburbs have been conceived as dormitory – in binary opposition to the inner-city (Powell). Supporting this stereotypical view have been gendered binaries between inner and outer city areas; densely populated vs. sprawl; gentrified terraces and apartment culture vs. new estates and first home buyers; zones of (male) production and creativity against (female) sedate, consumer territory. These binaries have for over a decade been thoroughly criticised by urban researchers, who have traced such representations and demonstrated how they are discriminatory and incorrect (see Powell; Mee; Dowling and Mee). And yet, such binaries persist in popular media commentaries and even in academic research (Gibson and Brennan-Horley). In creative city research, inner-city areas have been bestowed with the supposed correct mix of conditions that may lead to successful creative ventures. In part, this discursive positioning has been borne out of prior attempts to mapthe location of creativity in the city. Existing research on the geography of creativity in the city have relied on proxy data forms: mapping data on firms and/or employment in the creative industry sectors (e.g. Gibson, Murphy and Freestone; Markusen et al.; Watson). In doing so, the focus has rested on “winners” – i.e. headquarters of major arts and cultural institutions located in inner city/CBD locations, or by looking for concentrations of registered creative businesses. Such previous studies are useful because they give some indication of the geographical spread and significance of creative activities in cities, and help answer questions about the locational preferences of creative industries, including their gravitational pull towards each other in an agglomerative sense (Scott). However, such studies rely on (usually) one proxy data source to reveal the presence of creative activities, rather than detail how creativity is itself apparent in everyday working lives, or embedded in the spaces, networks and activities of the city. The latter, more qualitative aspects of the lived experience of creativity can only at best be inferred from proxy data such as employment numbers and firm location. In contrast, other researchers have promoted ethnographic methods (Drake; Shorthose; Felton, Collis and Graham) including interviewing, snowballing through contacts and participant observation, as means to get ‘inside’ creative industries and to better understand their embeddedness in place and networks of social relations. Such methods provide rich explanation of the internal dynamics and social logics of creative production, but having stemmed from text-based recorded interviews, they produce data without geographical co-ordinates necessary to be mapped in the manner of employment or business location data – and thus remain comparatively “aspatial”, with no georeferenced component. Furthermore, in such studies relational interactions with material spaces of home, work and city are at best conveyed in text form only – from recorded interviews – and thus cannot be aggregated easily as a mapped representation of city life. This analysis takes a different tack, by mapping responses from interviews, which were then analysed using methods more common in mapping and analysing proxy data sources. By taking a qualitative route toward data collection, this paper illustrates how suburbs can actually play a major role in creative city economies, expanding understandings of what constitutes a creative workplace and examining the resulting spatial distributions according to their function. Darwin and the Creative Tropical City Project This article draws on fieldwork carried out in Darwin, NT a small but important city in Australia’s tropical north. It is the government and administration capital of the sparsely populated Northern Territory and continues to grapple with its colonial past, a challenging climate, small population base and remoteness from southern centres. The city’s development pattern is relatively new, even in Australian terms, only dating back to the late 1970s. After wholesale destruction by Cyclone Tracy, Darwin was rebuilt displaying the hallmarks of post-1970 planning schemes: wide ring-roads and cul-de-sacs define its layout, its urban form dominated by stout single-story suburban dwellings built to withstand cyclonic activity. More recently, Darwin has experienced growth in residential tower block apartments, catering to the city’s high degree of fly-in, fly-out labour market of mining, military and public service workers. These high rise developments have been focussed unsurprisingly on coastal suburbs with ample sections of foreshore. Further adding to its peculiar layout, the geographic centre is occupied by Darwin Airport (a chief military base for Australia’s northern frontier) splitting the northern suburbs from those closer to its small CBD, itself jutting to the south on a peninsula. Lacking then in Darwin are those attributes so often heralded as the harbingers of a city’s creative success – density, walkability, tracts of ex-industrial brownfields sites ripe for reinvention as creative precincts. Darwin is a city dominated by its harsh tropical climate, decentralised and overtly dependant on private car transport. But, if one cares to look beyond the surface, Darwin is also a city punching above its weight on account of the unique possibilities enabled by transnational Asian proximity and its unique role as an outlet for indigenous creative work from across the top of the continent (Luckman, Gibson and Lea). Against this backdrop, Creative Tropical City: Mapping Darwin’s Creative Industries (CTC), a federally funded ARC project from 2006 to 2009, was envisaged to provide the evidential base needed to posit future directions for Darwin’s creative industries. City and Territory leaders had by 2004 become enchanted by the idea of ‘the creative city’ (Landry) – but it is questionable how well these policy discourses travel when applied to disparate examples such as Darwin (Luckman, Gibson and Lea). To provide an empirical grounding to creative city ideas and to ensure against policy fetishism the project was developed to map the nature, extent and change over time of Darwin’s creative industries and imagine alternate futures for the city based on a critical appraisal of the applicability of national and international creative industry policy frameworks to this remote, tropical location (Lea et al.). Toward a Typology of Darwin’s Creative Workplaces This article takes one data set gathered during the course of the CTC project, based around a participatory mapping exercise, where interviewees responded to questions about where creative industry activities took place in Darwin by drawing on paper maps. Known as mental maps, these were used to gather individual representations of place (Tuan), but in order to extend their applicability for spatial querying, responses were transferred to a Geographic Information System (GIS) for storage, collation and analysis (Matei et al.). During semi-structured interviews with 98 Darwin-based creative industry practitioners, participants were provided with a base map of Darwin displaying Statistical Local Area (SLA) boundaries and roads for mark up in response to specific questions about where creative activities occurred (for more in depth discussion of this method and its varied outputs, refer to Brennan-Horley and Gibson). The analysis discussed here only examines answers to one question: “Where do you work?” This question elicited a total of 473 work locations from 98 respondents – a fourfold increase over statistics gleaned from employment measures alone (Brennan-Horley). Such an increase resulted from participants identifying their everyday work practices which, by necessity, took place across multiple locations. When transferring the spatial location of workplaces into the GIS, each site was coded depending on whether it was cited by the interviewee as their “major” or primary place of work, or if the place being discussed played a secondary or “minor” role in their creative practice. For example, an artist’s studio was categorised as major, but other minor sites also featured in their mental maps, for example, galleries, supply locations and teaching sites. Each worksite was then assigned to one of four categories: Front, Back, Networking and Supply (Table 1). In a similar fashion to McCannell’s work on the “front and back regions” of tourist towns (597), the creative industries, predicated on the production and exchange of texts, objects and ideas also display front spaces of sorts – sites that facilitate interactions between practitioner and audiences, spaces for performance and consumption. Operating behind these front spaces, are sites where creative endeavours take place – perhaps not as so readily seen or engaged with by wider publics. For example, a rehearsal room, artist’s studio or a theatre company’s office may not be key sites of interaction between creator and audience but remain nonetheless important sites of creative work. However, a binary of Front versus Back could not encapsulate the variety of other everyday, prosaic work sites evident in the data. Participants indicated on their maps visits to the post office to send artworks, going to Bunnings to buy paint (and inadvertently networking with others), through to more fleeting spaces such as artist materials fossicked from parklands to photoshoot locations. These supply sites (each themselves positioned along a continuum of “creative” to “mundane”) were typified as supply locations: sites that act as places to gather inputs into the creative process. Finally, sites where meetings and networking took place (more often than not, these were indicated by participants as occurring away from their major work place) were assigned under a heading of networking spaces. Table 1: A typology of creative workplaces Space Definition Coded examples Front A space for consumption/exchange of creative goods, outputs or expertise. Performance space, Market, Gallery, Client Location, Shopfront, Cinema, Exhibition space, Museum, Festival space Back A site of production, practice or business management Office, Studio, Rehearsal Space, Teaching Space, Factory, Recording Studio Networking A space to meet clients or others involved in creative industries Meeting places Supply Spaces where supplies for creative work are sourced Supplier, Photoshoot Location, Story Location, Shoot Location, Storage Coding data into discrete units and formulating a typology is a reductive process, thus a number of caveats apply to this analysis. First there were numerous cases where worksites fell across multiple categories. This was particularly the case with practitioners from the music and performing arts sector whose works are created and consumed at the same location, or a clothing designer whose studio is also their shopfront. To avoid double counting, these cases were assigned to one category only, usually split in favour of the site’s main function (i.e. performance sites to Front spaces). During interviews, participants were asked to locate parts of Darwin they went to for work, rather than detail the exact role or name for each of those spaces. While most participants were forthcoming and descriptive in their responses, in two percent of cases (n=11) the role of that particular space was undefined. These spaces were placed into the “back” category. Additionally, the data was coded to refer to individual location instances aggregated to the SLA level, and does not take into account the role of specific facilities within suburbs, even though certain spaces were referred to regularly in the transcripts. It was often the case that a front space for one creative industry practitioner was a key production site for another, or operated simultaneously as a networking site for both. Future disaggregated analyses will tease out the important roles that individual venues play in Darwin’s creative economy, but are beyond this article’s scope. Finally, this analysis is only a snapshot in time, and captures some of the ephemeral and seasonal aspects of creative workplaces in Darwin that occurred around the time of interviewing. To illustrate, there are instances of photographers indicating photo shoot locations, sites that may only be used once, or may be returned to on multiple occasions. As such, if this exercise were to be carried out at another time, a different geography may result. Results A cross-tabulation of the workplace typology against major and minor locations is given in Table 2. Only 20 per cent of worksites were designated as major worksites with the remaining 80 per cent falling into the minor category. There was a noticeable split between Back and Front spaces and their Major/Minor designation. 77 per cent of back spaces were major locations, while the majority of Front spaces (92 per cent) fell into the minor category. The four most frequently occurring Minor Front spaces – client location, performance space, markets and gallery – collectively comprise one third of all workplaces for participants, pointing to their important role as interfacing spaces between creative output produced or worked on elsewhere, and wider publics/audiences. Understandably, all supply sites and networking places were categorised as minor, with each making up approximately 20 per cent of all workplaces. Table 2: creative workplaces cross tabulated against primary and secondary workplaces and divided by creative workplace typology. Major Minor Grand Total Back Office 44 1 45 Studio 22 - 22 Rehearsal Space 7 11 18 Undefined - 11 11 Teaching Space 3 1 4 Factory 1 - 1 Recording Studio 1 - 1 Leanyer Swamp 1 - 1 Back space total 79 24 103 Front Client Location - 70 70 Performance Space 2 67 69 Market 1 11 12 Gallery 3 8 11 Site - 8 8 Shopfront 1 3 4 Exhibition Space - 3 3 Cinema 2 1 3 Museum 1 1 2 Shop/Studio 1 - 1 Gallery and Office 1 - 1 NightClub 1 - 1 Festival space - 1 1 Library 1 - 1 Front Space total 14 173 187 Networking Meeting Place - 94 94 Networking space total - 94 94 Supply Supplier - 52 52 Photoshoot Location - 14 14 Story Location - 9 9 Shoot Location - 7 7 Storage - 4 4 Bank - 1 1 Printer - 1 1 Supply Space total - 88 88 Grand Total 93 379 472 The maps in Figures 1 through 4 analyse the results spatially, with individual SLA scores provided in Table 3. The maps use location quotients, representing the diversion of each SLA from the city-wide average. Values below one represent a less than average result, values greater than one reflecting higher results. The City-Inner SLA maintains the highest overall percentage of Darwin’s creative worksites (35 per cent of the total) across three categories, Front, Back and especially Networking sites (60 per cent). The concentration of key arts institutions, performance spaces and CBD office space is the primary reason for this finding. Additionally, the volume of hospitality venues in the CBD made it an amenable place to conduct meetings away from major back spaces. Figure 1: Back spaces by Statistical Local Areas Figure 2: Front spaces by Statistical Local Areas Figure 3: Networking sites, by Statistical Local Areas Figure 4: Supply sites by Statistical Local Areas However this should not deter from the fact that the majority of all worksites (65 per cent) indicated by participants actually reside in suburban locations. Numerically, the vast majority (70 per cent) of Darwin’s Front spaces are peppered across the suburbs, with agglomerations occurring in The Gardens, Fannie Bay, Nightcliff and Parap. The Gardens is the location for Darwin’s biggest weekly market (Mindl Beach night market), and a performance space for festivals and events during the city’s long dry season. Mirroring more the cultures of its neighbouring SE Asian counterparts, Darwin sustains a vibrant market culture unlike that of any other Australian capital city. As the top end region is monsoonal, six months of the year is guaranteed to be virtually rain free, allowing for outdoor activities such as markets and festivals to flourish. Markets in Darwin have a distinctly suburban geography with each of the three top suburban SLAs (as measured by Front spaces) hosting a regular market, each acting as temporary sites of networking and encounter for creative producers and audiences. Importantly, over half of the city’s production sites (Back spaces) were dispersed across the suburbs in two visible arcs, one extending from the city taking in Fannie Bay and across to Winnellie via Parap, and through the northern coastal SLAs from Coconut Grove to Brinkin (Figure 1). Interestingly, 85 per cent of all supply points were also in suburban locations. Figure 4 maps this suburban specialisation, with the light industrial suburb of Winnellie being the primary location for Darwin’s creative practitioners to source supplies. Table 3: Top ten suburbs by workplace mentions, tabulated by workplace type* SLA name Front Back Networking Supply Workplace total Inner City/CBD City - Inner 56 (29.9%) 35 (36%) 57 (60.6%) 13 (14.8%) 162 (34.3%) Inner City Total 56 (29.9%) 35 (36%) 57 (60.6%) 13 (14.8%) 162 (34.3%) Top 10 suburban The Gardens 30 (16%) 3 (2.9%) 6 (6.4%) 5 (5.7%) 44 (9.3%) Winnellie 3 (1.6%) 7 (6.8%) 1 (1.1%) 24 (27.3%) 35 (7.4%) Parap 14 (7.5%) 4 (3.9%) 6 (6.4%) 9 (10.2%) 33 (7%) Fannie Bay 17 (9.1%) 5 (4.9%) 4 (4.3%) 2 (2.3%) 28 (5.9%) Nightcliff 14 (7.5%) 7 (6.8%) 2 (2.1%) 4 (4.5%) 27 (5.7%) Stuart Park 4 (2.1%) 8 (7.8%) 4 (4.3%) 4 (4.5%) 20 (4.2%) Brinkin 1 (0.5%) 8 (7.8%) 9 (9.6%) 2 (2.3%) 20 (4.2%) Larrakeyah 5 (2.7%) 5 (4.9%) 1 (1.1%) 3 (3.4%) 14 (3%) City - Remainder 5 (2.7%) 2 (1.9%) 0 (0%) 6 (6.8%) 13 (2.8%) Coconut Grove 3 (1.6%) 4 (3.9%) 1 (1.1%) 4 (4.5%) 12 (2.5%) Rapid Creek 3 (1.6%) 6 (5.8%) 0 (0%) 0 (0%) 9 (1.9%) Suburban Total** 131 (70.1%) 67 (65%) 37 (39.4%) 75 (85%) 310 (65.7%) City-Wide Total 187 103 94 88 472 *All percentages calculated from city- wide total **Suburban total row includes all 27 suburbs, not just top tens Discussion There are two key points to take from this analysis. First, the results show the usefulness of combining in-depth qualitative research with GIS mapping methods. Interviewing creative workers about where activities in their working days (or nights) take place, rather than defaulting to incomplete industry statistics can reveal a more comprehensive view of where creative work manifests in the city. Second, the role that multiple, decentred and often suburban facilities played as sites of supply, production and consumption in Darwin’s creative economy leads theories about the spatiality of creativity in the city in new directions. These results clearly show that the cultural binaries that theorists have assumed shape perceptions of the city and its suburbs do not appear in this instance to be infusing the everyday nature of creative work in the city. What was revealed by this data is that creative work in the city creates a variegated city produced through practitioners’ ordinary daily activities. Creative workers are not necessarily resisting or reinventing ideas of what the suburbs mean, they are getting on with creative work in ways that connect suburbs and the city centre in complex – and yet sometimes quite prosaic – ways. This is not to say that the suburbs do not present challenges for the effective conduct of creative work in Darwin – transport availability and lack of facilities were consistently cited problems by practitioners – but instead what is argued here is that ways of understanding the suburbs (in popular discourse, and in response in critical cultural theory) that emanate from Sydney or Los Angeles do not provide a universal conceptual framework for a city like Darwin. By not presuming that there is a meta-discourse of suburbs and city centres that everyone in every city is bound to, this analysis captured a different geography. In conclusion, the case of Darwin displayed decentred and dispersed sites of creativity as the norm rather than the exception. Accordingly, creative city planning strategies should take into account that decentralised and varied creative work sites exist beyond the purview of flagship institutions and visible creative precincts. References Brennan-Horley, Chris. “Multiple Work Sites and City-Wide Networks: A Topological Approach to Understanding Creative Work.” Australian Geographer 41 (2010): 39-56. ———, and Chris Gibson. “Where Is Creativity in the City? Integrating Qualitative and GIS Methods.” Environment and Planning A 41 (2009): 2295–2614.Collis, Christy, Emma Felton, and Phil Graham. “Beyond the Inner City: Real and Imagined Places in Creative Place Policy and Practice.” The Information Society 26 (2010): 104-112. Dowling, Robyn, and Kathy Mee. “Tales of the City: Western Sydney at the End of the Millennium.” Sydney: The Emergence of a World City. Ed. John Connell. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 2000. Drake, Graham. “‘This Place Gives Me Space’: Place and Creativity in the Creative Industries.” Geoforum 34 (2003): 511–524. Felton, Emma, Christy Collis and Phil Graham. “Making Connections: Creative Industries Networks in Outer-Suburban Locations.” Australian Geographer 41 (2010): 57-70. Gibson, Chris, and Chris Brennan-Horley. “Goodbye Pram City: Beyond Inner/Outer Zone Binaries in Creative City Research.” Urban Policy and Research 24 (2006): 455–71. ———, Peter Murphy, and Robert Freestone. “Employment and Socio-Spatial Relations in Australia's Cultural Economy.” Australian Geographer 33 (2002): 173-189. Landry, Charles. The Creative City: A Toolkit for Urban Innovators. London: Comedia/Earthscan, 2000. Lea, Tess, Susan Luckman, Chris Gibson, Donal Fitzpatrick, Chris Brennan-Horley, Julie Willoughby-Smith, and Karen Hughes. Creative Tropical City: Mapping Darwin’s Creative Industries. Darwin: Charles Darwin University, 2009. Luckman, Sue, Chris Gibson, and Tess Lea. “Mosquitoes in the Mix: How Transferable Is Creative City Thinking?” Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography (2009): 30, 47-63. Markusen, Ann, Gregory Wassall, Douglas DeNatale, and Randy Cohen. “Defining the Creative Economy: Industry and Occupational Approaches.” Economic Development Quarterly 22 (2008): 24-45. Matei, Sorin, Sandra Ball-Rokeach, and Jack Qiu. “Fear and Misperception of Los Angeles Urban Space: A Spatial-Statistical Study of Communication-Shaped Mental Maps.” Communication Research 28 (2001): 429-463. McCannell, Dean. “Staged Authenticity: Arrangements of Social Space in Tourist Settings.” The American Journal of Sociology 79 (1973): 589-603. Mee, Kathy. “Dressing Up the Suburbs: Representations of Western Sydney.” Metropolis Now: Planning and the Urban in Contemporary Australia Eds. Katherine Gibson and Sophie Watson. Sydney: Pluto Press, 1994. 60–77. Powell, Diane. Out West: Perceptions of Sydney’s Western Suburbs. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1993. Shorthose, Jim. “Accounting for Independent Creativity in the New Cultural Economy.” Media International Australia 112 (2004): 150-161. Scott, Allen J. The Cultural Economy of Cities. London: Sage, 2000. Tuan, Yi-Fu. “Images and Mental Maps.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 65 (1975): 205-213. Watson, Allan. “Global Music City: Knowledge and Geographical Proximity in London’s Recorded Music Industry.” Area 40 (2008): 12–23.

ResumenEl texto describe y dibuja una estrategia de recuperación ecológica de una explotación minera de piedra ornamental en activo, situada en el entorno del parque arqueológico del Tolmo de Minateda, en el Término municipal de Hellín (Albacete, España). En el año 2015, la empresa Areniscas Rosal, propietaria de los derechos de explotación de dicha cantera, encargó a la oficina de Arquitectura y Urbanismo SSS (Spanish Studio of Space) un Plan de Restauración para establecer las directrices básicas de una recuperación paisajística que revierta el impacto de la actividad extractiva en un futuro próximo. El proyecto, fundamentado en la filosofía del Land Art, es una reconstrucción geométrica del terreno por medio de la reutilización de los sobrantes de la propia actividad, para así crear un paisaje totalmente nuevo y contemporáneo. El reciclaje, la re-vegetación y una solución proyectual innovadora fundamentan las directrices de esta intervención paisajística y territorial. Las posibilidades de reutilización y disfrute de este nuevo entorno natural podrán ser variadas y enriquecedoras y solo dependerán de una gestión sensible y respetuosa de la relación del hombre con la naturaleza. AbstractThe former document describes and draws a strategy of ecological recovery of an ornamental stone mine in active, located in the archaeological park environment of Tolmo de Minateda in the municipality of Hellín (Albacete, Spain). Back in 2015, the company Rosal Sandstones, which owns the rights to exploit the quarry, commissioned the Office of Architecture and Urbanism SSS (Spanish Studio of Space) a Restoration Plan in order to establish the basic guidelines for a landscape recovery to revert the impact of mining activity in the near future. The project, based on the philosophy of Land Art, is a geometric reconstruction of the ground by means of reusing the leftovers of the activity itself, to thereby create a totally new and contemporary landscape. Recycling, re-vegetation and innovative design methodology solutions substantiate the guidelines of this landscape and territorial intervention. The possibilities for reusability and enjoyment of this new natural environment can be diverse and enriching and, only depend on a sensitive and respectful management of the relationship between man and nature.

The cinema of the first two decades of the 21st century cannot be understood without the visual, technological, economic and cultural impact of blockbusters, linked in their transmedia dimension with a series of franchises: Harry Potter, Star Wars, Marvel. The digital revolution that began in 1999 (The Matrix and Episode I: The Phantom Menace) reached its zenith in 2019 with the premiere of Avengers: EndGame, breaking the box office. Thus, Disney, owner of LucasFilm, Pixar and Marvel Studios, reached the highest annual gross achieved by a film studio. Productions all premiered on the big screens of the world’s cinemas financed with the sale of licenses for the commercialization of merchandising. The year 2020 will go down in history due to the global health crisis produced by Covid-19, the collapse of the health system, the confinement of the population, the closure of productive sectors, public and private services, sports, education and culture. At the same time, online sales businesses such as Amazon or audiovisual content platforms (Netflix, Disney or HBO) were reaching subscriber numbers expected for the not so near future. While all the cinemas in the world closed their theaters, postponing or moving premieres to streaming services and sales of domestic formats fell, merchandising companies increased their annual turnover derived from their licenses. The symbiotic relationship between companies dedicated to audiovisual production and those specialized in the design of licensed products is our object of study from the history of art and design from visual culture studies. The symbiotic relationship between companies dedicated to audiovisual production and those specialized in the design of licensed products is our object of study, analyzed from the history of art and design within visual culture studies

Mad Men is often assumed to be “subversive” in the academic literature whereas this investigation interprets the astutely promoted series as questioning capitalism before it ratifies market relations. Alongside convulsive change under capitalism that Mad Men captures, class-striated market societies require narratives that posit class division as compatible with meritocracy. Mad Men delivers such legitimizing narratives through Don Draper's and Peggy Olson's realization of class promotions—whereas Roger Sterling, Jr. and Pete Campbell present the privileges of inherited wealth. Don's performance in advertising illustrates Mad Men's often divided view of capitalism. Don melts down during one pitch and reveals his primordial experiences of capitalism as conditioned by poverty, theft and prostitution. However, by the final episode, Don's Coke ad affirms the market as a vehicle toward transcendental community. While Mad Men interrogates capitalism, it is solidly neoliberal in its disregard for State activity (regulation, implications of elected office). The narratively privileged moment of the series’ extended closing montage doubles-down on capitalism as the flawed but optimal steering mechanism for human aspiration. With the conspicuous exception of Betty Draper Francis who never participated in corporate work, core characters realize wealth and fulfillment by mastering market relations.

To use the overworked metaphor of the movie reviewers, Adaptation (2002)—directed by Spike Jonze and written by Charlie Kaufman—is that rare Hollywood flower, a “literary” film that succeeds both with the critics and at the box office. But Kaufman’s literary colleagues, his fellow screenwriters whose opinions are rarely noticed by movie reviewers or the public, express their support in more interesting terms. Robert McKee, the real-life screenwriter and teacher played by Brian Cox in the movie, writes about Kaufman as one of the few to “step out of screenwriting anonymity to gain national recognition as an artist—without becoming a director” (131). And the screenwriter Stephen Schiff (Lolita [Adrian Lyne, 1997], The Deep End of the Ocean [Ulu Grosbard, 1999]) embraces the film as a manifesto, claiming that Kaufman’s work offers “redemption” to him and his fellow screenwriters who are “struggling to adapt to the world’s dismissive view of adaptation.” The comments by Kaufman’s colleagues suggest that new respect for the work of adaptation, and the role of the screenwriter go hand in hand. The director—whom auteur theory, the New Wave, and film schools helped to establish as the primary creative agent behind a film—has long overshadowed the screenwriter, but Kaufman’s acclaim as a screenwriter reflects a new sensibility. This was illustrated by the controversy among Academy Award voters in 2002. They found that year’s nominees, including Adaptation, unsettled the Academy’s traditional distinction between “original screenplay” and “adapted screenplay”, debating whether a nominee for best original screenplay, such as My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Joel Zwik, 2002), was more like an adaptation, while Adaptation, a nominee for best adapted screenplay, was more like an original screenplay. The Academy’s confusion on this score is not without precedents; nonetheless, as Rick Lyman of The New York Times reports, it led some to wonder, “in an age of narrative deconstruction and ‘reality television’,” whether the distinction between original and adaptation was still valid. If, as the famed critic Alexandre Astruc claimed, the director should be seen as someone who uses the camera as a pen to “write” the movie, then the screenwriter, in Ben Stoltzfus’s words, is increasingly seen as someone who uses the pen to “shoot” the movie. While this appreciation of the screenwriter as an “adaptor” who directs the movie opens new possibilities within Hollywood filmmaking, it also occurs in a Hollywood where TV shows, video games, and rides at Disneyland are adapted to film as readily as literary works once were. Granted, some stand to gain, but who or what is lost in this new hyper-adaptive environment? While there is much to be said for Kaufman’s movie, I suggest its optimistic account of adaptation—both as an existential principle and cinematic practice—is one-sided. Part of the dramatic impact of the movie’s one word title is the way it shoves the act of adaptation out from the wings and places it front and center in the filmmaking process. An amusing depiction of the screenwriter’s marginalisation occurs at the movie’s beginning, immediately following Charlie’s (Nicholas Cage) opening monologue delivered against a black screen. It is presented as a flashback to the making of Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999), the movie for which Kaufman wrote his first screenplay, making him “a name” in Hollywood. Although scripted, the scene is shot with a hand-held video camera and looks as though it is occurring in real time. The central character is John Malkovich in costume as a woman who shouts orders at everyone on the set—deftly illustrating how the star’s power in the new Hollywood enables him or her to become “the director” of the movie. His directions are then followed by ones from the first assistant director and the cinematographer. Meanwhile, Charlie stands silently and awkwardly off to the side, until he is chased away by the first assistant director—not even the director or the cinematographer—who tells him, “You. You’re in the eyeline. Can you please get off the stage?” (Kaufman and Kaufman, 3). There are other references that make the movie’s one-word title evocative. It forces one to think about the biological and literary senses of the word—evolution as a narrative process and narrative as an evolutionary process—lifting the word’s more colloquial meaning of “getting along” to the level of an existential principle. Or, as Laroche (Chris Cooper) explains to Orlean (Meryl Streep), “Adaptation’s a profound process. It means you figure out how to thrive in the world” (Kaufman and Kaufman, 35). But Laroche’s definition of adaptation, which the movie endorses and dramatises, is only half the story. In fact evolutionary science shows that nature’s “losers” vastly outnumber nature’s “winners.” As Peter Bowler expresses it in his historical account of the theory of natural selection, “Evolution becomes a process of trial and error based on massive wastage and the death of vast numbers of unfit creatures”(6). Turning the “profound process” of adaptation into a story about the tiny fraction who “figure out how to thrive in the world” has been done before. It manifested itself in Herbert Spencer’s late-nineteenth-century philosophical “adaptation” of Charles Darwin’s work on natural selection, coining the phrase, “survival of the fittest.” Both the scientist Darwin and the philosopher Spencer, as Bowler points out, would have been horrified at how their work was used to justify the rapacious capitalism and harsh social policies of American industry (301). Nonetheless, although by now largely discredited in the academy, the ideology of social Darwinism persists within the broader culture in various watered-down or subterranean forms. Perhaps in the movie’s violent climax when Laroche is killed by an alligator—a creature that represents one of the more impressive examples of adaptation in the natural world—Kaufman is suggesting the darker side to the story of natural selection in which adaptation is not only a story about the mutable and agile orchid that “figure[s] out how to thrive in the world.” There are no guarantees for the tiny fraction of species that do survive, whether they are as perfectly adapted to their environment as orchids and alligators or, for that matter, individuals like Laroche with his uncanny ability to adapt to whatever life throws at him. But after the movie’s violent eruption, which does away not only with Laroche but also Donald (Nicholas Cage) and in effect Orlean, Charlie emerges as the sole survivor, reassuring the viewer that the story of adaptation is about nature’s winners. The darker side to the story of natural selection is subsumed within the movie’s layers of meta-commentary, which make the violence at the movie’s end an ironic device within Charlie’s personal and artistic evolution—a way for him to maintain a critical distance on the Hollywood conventions he has resisted while simultaneously incorporating them into his art. A cinematically effective montage dramatically represents the process of evolution. However, as with the movie’s one-sided account of adaptation, as a story about those who “figure out how to thrive in the world,” this depiction of evolution is framed, both figuratively and literally, by Charlie’s personal growth—as though the logical and inevitable endpoint of the evolutionary process is the human individual. The montage is instigated by Charlie’s questions to himself, “Why am I here? How did I get here?” and concludes with a close-up on the bawling face of a newborn baby, whom the viewer assumes is Charlie (Kaufman and Kaufman, 3). This assumption is reinforced by the next scene, which begins with a close-up on the face of the adult Charlie who is sweating profusely as he struggles to survive a business luncheon with the attractive studio executive Valerie (Tilda Swinton). Although Orlean’s novel doesn’t provide a feminist reading of Darwin, she does alert her readers to the fact that he was a Victorian man and, as such, his science might reflect the prejudices of his day. In discussing Darwin’s particular fondness for his “‘beloved Orchids’” (47), she recounts his experiments to determine how they release their pollen: “He experimented by poking them with needles, camel-hair brushes, bristles, pencils, and his fingers. He discovered that parts were so sensitive that they released pollen upon the slightest touch, but that ‘moderate degrees of violence’ on the less sensitive parts had no effect ….” (48). In contrast to this humorous view of Darwin as the historically situated man of science, the movie depicts Darwin (Bob Yerkes) as the stereotypical Man of Science. Kaufman does incorporate some of Orlean’s discussion of Darwin’s study of orchids, but the portion he uses advances the screenplay’s sexualisation/romanticisation of Orlean’s relationship with Laroche. At an orchid show, Laroche lectures to Orlean about Darwin’s theory that a particular orchid, Angraecum sesquipedale, is pollinated by a moth with a twelve-inch proboscis. When Orlean takes exception to Laroche for telling her that proboscis means “nose,” he chides her, “Hey, let’s not get off the subject. This isn’t a pissing contest” (23). After this scene bristling with phallic imagery—and with his female pupil sufficiently chastised—Laroche proceeds to wax poetic about pollination as a “little dance” (24) between flower and insect. “[The] only barometer you have is your heart …” (24) he tells Orlean, who is clearly impressed by the depth of his soliloquy. On the literary and social level, a one-sided reading of adaptation as a positive process may be more justified, although here too one may question what the movie slights or ignores. What about the human ability to adapt to murderous and dehumanising social systems: slavery, fascism, colonialism, and so on? Or, more immediately, even if one acknowledges the writer’s “maturity,” as T.S. Eliot famously phrased it, in “stealing” from his or her source, what about the element of compromise implicit in the concept of adaptation? Several critics question whether the film’s ending, despite the movie’s self-referential ironies, ultimately reinforces the Hollywood formulas it sets out to critique. But only Stuart Klawans of The Nation connects it to the movie’s optimistic, one-sided view of adaptation. “Still,” he concludes, “I’m disappointed by that crashing final act. I wonder about the environmental pressure that must bear down on today’s filmmakers as they struggle to adapt, even when they’re as prodigious as Charlie Kaufman.” Oddly, for a self-reflexive movie about the creative process, it has little to say about the “environmental pressure” of the studio system and its toll on the artist. There are incisive character sketches of studio types, such as the attractive and painfully earnest executive, Valerie, who hires Charlie to write the screenplay for Orlean’s book, or Charlie’s sophomoric agent, Marty (Ron Livingston), who daydreams about anal sex with the women in his office while talking to his client. And, of course, a central plot line of the movie is the competition, at least as one of them sees it, between Charlie and his twin brother Donald. Charlie, the self-conscious Hollywood screenwriter who is stymied by his success and notions of artistic integrity, suffers defeat after humiliating defeat as Donald, the screenwriting neophyte who will stoop to any cliché or cheap device to advance his screenplay, receives a six-figure contract for his first effort: a formulaic and absurd serial-killer movie, The Three, that their mother admires as a cross between Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) and Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991). Because of the emotional arc of the brothers’ personal relationship, however, any qualms about Donald selling out look churlish at best. When Donald excitedly tells his brother about his good fortune, Charlie responds approvingly, rather than with one of the snide putdowns the viewer has grown to expect from him, signaling not only Charlie’s acceptance of his brother but the new awareness that will enable him to overcome his writer’s block. While there is a good deal of satire directed at the filmmaking process—as distinct from the studio system—it is ultimately a cherishing sort of satire. It certainly doesn’t reach the level of indictment found in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) or Joel and Ethan Cohen’s Barton Fink (1991) for example. But the movie most frequently compared to Adaptation is Frederico Fellini’s masterpiece of auteurist self-reflexivity, 8 ½ (1963). This is high praise indeed, although the enthusiastic endorsements of some film critics do not stop there. Writing for the Observer, Philip French cites such New Wave movies as Jean-Luc Godard’s Le Mepris (1963), Francois Truffaut’s La Nuit Americaine (1973), and Alain Robbe-Grillet’s Trans-Europ-Express (1966). However, in passing, he qualifies the comparison by pointing out that, unlike the French auteurs, “Kaufman and Jonze are concerned with turning someone else’s idea into a piece of commercial cinema.” Some would argue the filmmakers’ ability to playfully adapt Orlean’s artistry to the commercial environment of Hollywood is what saves Adaptation’s meta-commentary from the didactic and elitist seriousness of many of its literary and cinematic precursors (Miller). This is a valid preference, but it slights the “environmental pressure” of the new studio system and how it sets the terms for success and failure. While Fellini and the New Wave auteurs were not entirely free of commercial cinema, they could claim an opposition to it that Kaufman, even if he wanted to, cannot. Film scholar Timothy Corrigan argues that the convergence of the new media, in particular television and film, radically alters the meaning and function of “independent” cinema: a more flexible and varied distribution network has responded to contemporary audiences, who now have the need and the power to pick and choose among the glut of images in contemporary television and film culture. Within this climate and under these conditions, the different, the more peculiar, the controversial enter the marketplace not as an opposition but as a revision and invasion of an audience market defined as too large and diverse by the dominant blockbusters. (25-6) Corrigan’s argument explains the qualitative differences between the sense of adaptation employed by the older auteurs and the new sense of adaptation required by contemporary auteurs fully incorporated within the new studio system and its new distribution technologies. Not everyone is disturbed by this state of affairs. A. O. Scott, writing for the New York Times, notes a similar “two-tier system” in Hollywood—with studios producing lavish “critic- and audience-proof franchise pictures” on the one hand and “art” or “independent” movies on the other—which strikes him as “a pretty good arrangement.” Based on what Adaptation does and does not say about the studio system, one imagines that Kaufman would, ultimately, concur. In contrast, however, a comment by Michel Gondry, the director Kaufman worked with on Human Nature (2001), gives a better indication of the costs incurred by adapting to the current system when he expresses his frustration with the delayed release of the picture by New Line Cinema: ‘First they were, like, “O.K. if Rush Hour 2 [Brett Ratner, 2001] does good business, then we’re in a good position,”’ Mr. Gondry said. ‘You fight to do something original and then you depend on Rush Hour 2 for the success of your movie? It’s like you are the last little thing on the bottom of the scale and you’re looking up watching the planets colliding. It’s been so frustrating.’ (Rochlin) No doubt, when Fellini and Godard thought about doing “something original” they also had considerable obstacles to face. But at least the success of 8 ½ or Le Mepris wasn’t dependent upon the success of films like Rush Hour 2. Given this sort of environmental pressure, as Klawans and Corrigan remind us, we need to keep in mind what might be lost as the present system’s winners adapt to what is generally understood as “a pretty good arrangement.” Another indication of the environmental pressure on artists in Hollywood’s present arrangement comes from Adaptation’s own story of adaptation—not the one told by Kaufman or his movie, but the one found in Susan Orlean’s account of how she and her novel were “adapted” by the filmmakers. Although Orlean is an enthusiastic supporter of the movie, when she first read the screenplay, she thought, “the whole thing ‘seemed completely nuts’” and wondered whether she wanted “that much visibility” (Boxer). She decided to give her consent on the condition they not use her name. This solution, however, wouldn’t work because she didn’t want her book “in a movie with someone else’s name on it” (Boxer). Forced to choose between an uncomfortable visibility and the loss of authorship, she chose the former. Of course, her predicament is not Kaufman’s fault; nonetheless, it is important to stress that the process of adaptation did not enforce a similar “choice” upon him. Her situation, like that of Gondry, indicates that successful adaptation to any system is a story of losing as well as winning. References Astruc, Alexandre. “The Birth of a New Avant-Garde: Le Camera-Stylo.” Film and Literature: An Introduction and Reader. Ed. Timothy Corrigan. Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1999, 158-62. Bowler, Peter J. Evolution: The History of an Idea. 3rd ed. Berkeley, CA: U of California P, 2003. Boxer, Sarah. “New Yorker Writer Turns Gun-Toting Floozy? That’s Showbiz.” The New York Times 9 Dec. 2002, sec. E. Corrigan, Timothy. A Cinema without Walls. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 1991. Eliot, T.S. “Philip Massinger.” The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism. 1922. http://www.bartleby.com/> French, Philip. “The Towering Twins.” The Observer 2 Mar. 2003. Guardian Unlimited. 12 Feb. 2007. http://film.guardian.co.uk/News_Story/Critic_Review>. Kaufman, Charlie and Donald Kaufman. Adaptation: The Shooting Script. New York: Newmarket Press, 2002. Klawans, Stuart. “Adeptations.” The Nation 23 Dec. 2002. 12 Febr. 2007. http://www.thenation.com/doc/20021223/klawans>. Lyman, Rick. “A Jumble of Categories for Screenwriter Awards.” The New York Times 21 Feb. 2003. McKee, Robert. “Critical Commentary.” Adaptation: The Shooting Script. New York: Newmarket Press, 2002. 131-5. Miller, Laura. “This Is the Way We Live Now.” The New York Times Magazine 17 Nov. 2002. Orlean, Susan. The Orchid Thief. New York: Ballantine Books, 1998. Rochlin, Margy. “From an Untamed Mind Springs an Ape Man.” The New York Times 7 Apr. 2002. Schiff, Stephen. “All Right, You Try: Adaptation Isn’t Easy.” The New York Times 1 Dec. 2002. Scott, A. O. “As Requested My Thoughts on the Oscars.” The New York Times 9 Feb. 2003. Stoltzfus, Ben. “Shooting with the Pen.” Writing in a Film Age. Ed. Keith Cohen. Niwot, CO: UP of Colorado, 1991. 246-63. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Rizzo, Sergio. "Adaptation and the Art of Survival." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/02-rizzo.php>. APA Style Rizzo, S. (May 2007) "Adaptation and the Art of Survival," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/02-rizzo.php>.

Alexandra Handal is a London based Palestinian visual artist, filmmaker and essayist. She works at the intersection of different disciplines, breaking the boundaries between them in search of new creative expressions and narrative possibilities to explore the human condition in lingering times of war and other man-made disasters. Through her creative practice she attempts to make palpable what is disappearing or has been destroyed, engaging with modern day ruins from conflict zones to areas of urban decay. Handal uses performance-based strategies to experiment with modes of storytelling that are multilayered and mixed-genre. She combines experience, research and imagination to redress absence - blurring the line between written and oral history, fact and fiction, subjectivity and objectivity, past and present. Handal's work includes an eclectic range of media such as digital storytelling, creative interventions, photography, drawing, experimental texts and films that expand the documentary form and propose a new kind of fiction. Handal holds a PhD (practice/theory) from the University of the Arts London, UK (2011), for which she was the recipient of the UAL Research Studentship Award, UK (2004) and the Chelsea College of Art and Design Graduate Fund (2007 & 2009). Her short film From the Bed & Breakfast Notebooks (2009) was selected for New Contemporaries 2009 - an internationally juried exhibition, which showcases emerging artists in the United Kingdom. Studio International magazine (2009) described her short as a 'quietly powerful political engagement' and she was listed among the 'few names to watch' in the Guardian (2009). Recent exhibitions and festivals include: 'Video Lounge', India Art Summit, New Delhi, India (2011), ‘Future Movements – Jerusalem’, Liverpool Biennial, Contemporary Urban Centre, Liverpool, UK (2010), ‘Whose Map is it?' INIVA, London, UK (2010), 'Documentary Program', Rencontres Internationales Paris/Berlin/Madrid (2009 & 2010), 'New Contemporaries 2009' A Foundation, London, UK (2009), and Cornerhouse, Manchester, UK (2009) and 'The Other Shadow of the City', Al-Hoash Gallery, East Jerusalem (2009).

Introduction This article explores the phenomenon of the Creative City in the context of Aberdeen, Scotland’s third-largest city. The common perception of Aberdeen is likely to revolve around its status, for the last 50 years, as Europe’s Oil & Gas Capital. However, for more than a decade Aberdeen’s city planners have sought to incorporate creativity and culture in their placemaking. The most visible expression of this was the unsuccessful 2013 bid to become the UK City of Culture 2017 (CoC), which was referred to as a “reality check” by Marie Boulton (BBC), the councillor charged with the culture portfolio. This article reviews and appraises subsequent policies and actions. It looks at Aberdeen’s history and its current Cultural Strategy and how events have supported or inhibited the reimagining of Aberdeen as a Creative and Cultural City. Landry’s “Lineages of the Creative City” tracks the rise in interest around culture and creative sectors and highlights that there is more to the creative city than economic growth, positing that a creative city is a holistic environment in which “ordinary people can make the extra-ordinary happen” (2). Comunian develops Landry’s concept of hard (infrastructural) assets and soft (people and activity) assets by introducing Complexity Theory to examine the interactions between the two. Comunian argues that a city should be understood as a complex adaptive system (CAS) and that the interconnectivity of consumption and production, micro and macro, and networks of actors must be incorporated into policy thinking. Creating physical assets without regard to what happens in and around them does not build a creative city. Aberdeen: Context and History Important when considering Aberdeen is its remoteness: 66 miles north of its closest city neighbour Dundee, 90 miles north of Edinburgh and 125 miles north-east of Glasgow. For Aberdonians travel is a necessity to connect with other cultural centres whether in Scotland, the UK, Europe, or further afield, making Aberdeen’s nearly 900-year-old port a key asset. Sitting at the mouth of the River Dee, which marks Aberdeen’s southern boundary, this key transport hub has long been central to Aberdeen’s culture giving rise to two of the oldest established businesses in the UK: the Port of Aberdeen (1136) and the Shore Porter’s Society (1498). Fishing and trade with Europe thrived and connections with the continent led to the establishment of Aberdeen’s first university: King’s College (Scotland’s third and the UK’s fifth) in 1495. A second, Marischal College, was established in 1593, joining forces with King’s in 1860 to become the University of Aberdeen. The building created in 1837 to house Marischal College is the second-largest granite building in the world (VisitAberdeenshire, Marischal) and now home to Aberdeen City Council (ACC). Robert Gordon University (RGU), awarded university status in 1992, grew out of an institution established in 1729 (RGU, Our History); this period marked the dawning of the Scottish Enlightenment when Aberdeen’s Wise Club were key to an intellectual discourse that changed western thinking (RSA). Gray’s School of Art, now part of RGU, was established in 1885, at the same time as Aberdeen Art Gallery which holds a collection of national significance (ACC, Art Gallery). Aberdeen’s northern boundary is marked by its second river, the River Don, which has also contributed to the city’s history, economics, and culture. For centuries, paper and woollen mills, including the world-famous Crombie, thrived on its banks and textile production was the city’s largest employer, with one mill employing 3,000 staff (P&J, Broadford). While the city and surrounds have been home to notable creatives, including writers Lewis Grassic Gibbon and Lord Byron; musicians Annie Lennox, Dame Evelyn Glennie, and Emeli Sandé; fashion designer Bill Gibb and dancer Michael Clark, it has struggled to attract and retain creative talent, and there is a familiar exodus of art school graduates to the larger and more accepted creative cities of Glasgow, Edinburgh, and London. In 2013, at the time of the CoC bid, ACC recognised that creative industries graduates leaving the city was “a serious issue” (ACC, Cultural Mapping 1). The City of Culture Bid This recognition came at a time when ACC acknowledged that Aberdeen, with already low unemployment, required an influx of workforce. An ACC document (Cultural Mapping) cites Richard Florida’s proposal that a strong cultural offer attracts skilled workers to a city, adding that they “look for a lively cultural life in their choice of location” (7) and quoting an oil executive: “our poor city centre is often cited as a major obstacle in attracting people” (7). Changing the image of the city to attract new residents appears to have been a key motivation for the CoC bid. The CoC assessor noted this in their review of the bid, citing a report that 120,000 recruits were required in the city and agreeing that Aberdeen needed to “change perceptions of the city to retain and attract talent” (Regeneris 1). Aberdeen’s CoC bid was rejected at the first shortlisting stage, with feedback that the artistic vision “lacked depth” and “that cultural activity in the city was weaker than in several other bidding areas” (Regeneris 3). In an exploration of the bidding process, McGillivray and Turner highlight two factors which link to other concerns and feedback about the bid. Firstly, they compare Aberdeen’s choice of a Bid Manager from the business community with Paisley’s choice of one from their local arts sector in their bid for CoC 2021, which was successful in being shortlisted, highlighting different motivators behind the bids. Secondly, Aberdeen secured a bid team member from “Pafos’s bid to be 2017 European Capital of Culture (ECC), who subsequently played an important role” for Kalamata’s 2021 ECC bid (41), showing Aberdeen’s reluctance to develop local talent. A Decade of Investment ACC responded to the “reality check” with a series of investments in the hard assets of the city. Major refurbishment of two key buildings, the Music Hall and the Art Gallery, caused them both to be closed for several years, significantly diminishing the cultural offer in the city. The Music Hall re-opened in 2018 (Creative Scotland) and the Art Gallery in 2019 (McLean). In 2021, the extended and updated Art Gallery was named “Scotland’s building of the year” by the Royal Incorporation of Architects in Scotland (RIAS) (Museums Association). Concurrent with this was the development of “Europe’s largest new events complex, TECA [now P&J live] part financed through a £370 million stock market bond issue” (InvestAberdeen). Another cultural asset of the city which has been undergoing a facelift since 2019 is Union Terrace Gardens (UTG), the green heart of the city centre, gifted to the public in 1877. The development of this asset has had a chequered history. In 2008 it had been awarded “funding from Aberdeen Council (£3 million), the Scottish Arts Council (£4.3M) and Scottish Enterprise (£2 million)” (Aberdeenvoice) to realise a new multi-disciplinary contemporary art centre to be called ‘Northern Light’ and housed in a purpose-designed building (Brizac Gonzalez). The project, led by Peacock Visual arts, a printmaking centre of excellence and gallery founded in 1974, had secured planning permission. It would host Peacock Visual Arts, City Moves dance company, and the ACC arts development team. It echoed similar cultural partnership approaches, such as Dundee Contemporary Arts, although notably without involvement from the universities. Three months later, a counterbid to radically re-think UTG as a vast new city square was proposed by oil tycoon Sir Ian Wood, who backed the proposal with £50 million of his own funds, requiring matching finance by the city and ownership of the Gardens passing to private hands. Resistance to these plans came from ‘Friends of UTG’, and a public consultation was held. ACC voted to adopt Wood’s plans and drop those of Peacock, but a change of administration in the local authority overturned Wood’s plans in August 2012. A significant portion of the funding granted to the Northern Lights project was consumed in the heated public debate and the remainder was lost to the city, as was the Wood money, providing a highly charged backdrop to the CoC bid and an unfortunate divide created between the business and culture sectors that is arguably still discernible in the city today. According to the Aberdeen & Grampian Chamber of Commerce (AGCC) 2022 Investment Tracker, the nearly complete UTG transformation has cost £28.3m. The AGCC trackers since 2016 provide a useful reference for a wider view of investment in the region over this period. During this period, ACC commissioned two festivals: Spectra (ACC, Culture Programme 5), a festival of light curated by a Manchester-based organisation, and NuArt (VisitAberdeenshire, Nuart), a street-art festival curated by a Stavanger-based team. Both festivals deliver large-scale public spectacles but have little impact on the development of the cultural sector in the city. The drivers of footfall, income generation, and tourism are key motivators for these festivals, supporting a prevailing narrative of cultural consumption over cultural production in the city, despite Regeneris’s concerns about “importing of cultural activity, which might not leave behind a cultural sector” (1) and ACC’s own published concerns (ACC, Cultural Mapping). It is important to note that in 2014 the oil and gas industry that brought prosperity to Aberdeen was severely impacted upon by a drop in price and revenue. Many jobs were lost, people left the city, and housing prices, previously inflated, fell dramatically. The attention of the authorities turned to economic regeneration of the city and in 2015, the Aberdeen City Region Deal (UK Gov), bringing £250m to the region, (REF) was signed between the UK Government, Scottish Government, ACC, Aberdeenshire Council, and Opportunity North East (ONE). ONE “is the private sector leader and catalyst for economic diversification in northeast Scotland” with board members from industry, enterprise, AGCC, the councils, the universities, the harbour, and NHS. ONE focuses on five ‘pillars’: Digital Technology, Energy, Life Sciences, Tourism and Food, and Drink & Agriculture. A Decade of Creativity and Cultural Development Aberdeen’s ambitious cultural capital infrastructure spending of the last decade has seen the creation or refurbishment of significant hard assets in the city. The development of people (Cohendet et al.), the soft assets that Landry and Comunian agree are essential to the complex system that is a Creative City, has also seen development over this time. In 2014, RGU commissioned a review of Creative Industries in the North East of Scotland. The report notes that: the cultural sector in the region is strong at the grass roots end, but less so the higher up the scale it goes. There is no producing theatre, and no signature events or assets, although the revitalised art gallery might provide an opportunity to address this. (Ekos 2) This was followed by an international conference at which other energy cities (Calgary, Houston, Perth, and Oslo) presented their culture strategies, providing useful comparators for Aberdeen and a second RGU report (RGU, Regenerating). A third report, (RGU, New North), set out a vision for the region’s cultural future. The reports recommend strategy, leadership, and vision in the development of the cultural and creative soft assets of the region and the need to create conditions for graduate and practitioner retention. Also in 2014, RGU initiated the Look Again Festival of Art and Design, an annual festival to address a gap in the city festival roster and meet a need arising from the closure of both Art Gallery and Music Hall for refurbishment. The first festival took place in 2015 with a weekend-long public event showcasing a series of thought-provoking installations and events which demonstrated a clear appetite amongst the public and partner organisations for more activity of this type. Between 2015 and 2019, the festivals grew from strength to strength and increased in size and ambition, “carving out a new creative community in Aberdeen” (Williams). The 2019 festival involved 119 creatives, the majority from the region, and created 62 paid opportunities. Look Again expanded and became a constant presence and vehicle for sectoral and skills development, supporting students, graduates, volunteers, and new collectives, focussing on social capital and the intangible creative community assets in the city. Creative practitioners were supported with a series of programmes such as ‘Cultivate’ (2018), funded by Creative Scotland, that provided mentoring to strengthen business sustainability and networking events to improve connectivity in the sector. Cultivate also provided an opportunity to undertake further research, and a survey of over 100 small and micro creative businesses presented a view of a tenacious sector, committed to staying in the region but lacking structured and tailored support. The project report noted consistent messages about the need for “a louder voice for the sector” and concluded that further work was needed to better profile, support, and connect the sector (Cultivate 15). Comunian’s work supports this call to give greater consideration to the interplay of the agents in the creation of a strong creative city. In 2019, Look Again’s evolving role in creative sector skills development was recognised when they became part of Gray’s School of Art. A partnership quickly formed with the newly created Entrepreneurship & Innovation Group (EIG), a team formed within RGU to drive entrepreneurial thinking across all schools of the university. Together, Look Again and EIG ran a Creative Accelerator which became a prototype for a validated Creative Entrepreneurship post-graduate short-course that has supported around 120 creative graduates and practitioners with tailored business skills, contextual thinking, and extended peer networks. Meanwhile, another Look Again collaboration with the newly re-opened Art Gallery provided pop-up design events that many of these small businesses took part in, connecting them with public-facing retail opportunities and, for some, acquisitions for the Gallery’s collection. Culture Aberdeen During this time and after a period of public consultation, a new collaborative group, ‘Culture Aberdeen’, emerged. Membership of the group includes many regional cultural and arts organisations including ACC, both universities, and Aberdeen Civic Forum, which seeks “to bring the voice and views of all communities to every possible level of decision making”. The group subsequently published Culture Aberdeen: A Culture Strategy for the City of Aberdeen 2018-2028, which was endorsed by ACC in their first Cultural Investment Impact Report. The strategy sets out a series of cultural ambitions including a bid to become a UNESCO Creative City, establishing an Aberdeen Biennale, and becoming a national centre of excellence for an (unspecified) artform. This collaboration brings a uniting vision to Aberdeen’s creative activity and places of culture and presents a more compelling identity as a creative city. It also begins to map to Comunian’s concept of CAS and establish a framework for realising the potential of hard assets by strategically envisioning and leading the agents, activities, and development of the city’s creative sector. Challenges for Delivery of the Strategy In delivering a strategy based on collaborative efforts, it is essential to have shared goals and strong governance “based on characteristics such as trust, shared values, implicit standards, collaboration, and consultation” (Butcher et al. 77). Situations like Aberdeen’s tentative bid for UNESO Creative City status, which began in late 2018 but was halted in early 2019, suggest that shared goals and clear governance may not be in place. Wishing to join other UNESCO cities across Scotland – Edinburgh (Literature), Glasgow (Music), and Dundee (Design) –, Aberdeen had set its sights on ‘City of Craft and Folk Art’; that title subsequently went to the city of Perth in 2022, limiting Aberdeen’s future hopes of securing UNESCO Creative City status. In 2022, Aberdeen is nearly halfway through its strategy timeline; to achieve its vision by 2028, the leadership recommended in 2014 needs to be established and given proper authority and backing. Covid-19 has been particularly disruptive for the strategy, arriving early in its implementation and lasting for two years during which collaborators have, understandably, had to attend to core business and crisis management. Picking up the threads of collaborative activity at the same time as ‘returning to normal’ will be challenging. The financial impacts of Covid-19 have also hit arts organisations and local councils particularly hard, creating survival challenges that displace future investment plans. The devastation caused to city centres across the UK as shops close and retail moves online is keenly felt in Aberdeen. Yet the pandemic has also seen the growth of pockets of new activity. With falling demand for business space resulting in more ‘meanwhile spaces’ and lower rents, practitioners have been able to access or secure spaces that were previously prohibitive. Deemouth Artists’ Studios, an artist-run initiative, has provided a vital locus of support and connectivity for creatives in the city, doubling in size over the past two years. ‘We Are Here Scotland’ arrived in response to the resurgent Black Lives Matter movement in 2020, as a Community Interest Company initiated in Aberdeen to support black creatives and creatives of colour across Scotland. Initiatives such as EP Spaces that re-purpose empty offices as studios have created a resource, albeit precarious, for scores of recent creative graduates, supporting an emerging creative community. The consequences of the pandemic for the decade of cultural investment and creative development are yet to be understood, but disrupted strategies are hard to rekindle. Culture Aberdeen’s ability to resolve or influence these factors is unclear. As a voluntary network without a cohesive role or formal status in the provision of culture in the city, and little funding and few staff to advocate on its behalf, it probably lacks the strength of leadership required. Nevertheless, work is underway to refresh the strategy in response to the post-pandemic needs of the city and culture, and the Creative Industries more broadly, are, once again, beginning to be seen as part of the solution to recovery as new narratives emerge. There is a strong desire in the city’s and region’s creative communities to nurture, realise, and retain emerging talent to authentically enrich the city’s culture. Since the 2013 failed CoC bid, much has been done to rekindle confidence and shine a light on the rich creative culture that exists in Aberdeen, and creative communities are gaining a new voice for their work. Considerable investment has been made in hard cultural assets; however, continued investment in and commitment to the region’s soft assets is needed. This is the only way to ensure the sustainable local network of activity and practice that can provide the vibrant creative city atmosphere for which Aberdeen has the potential. References Aberdeen Civic Forum. 4 June 2022 <https://civicforumaberdeen.com/about/>. Aberdeen City Region Deal. 5 June 2022 <https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/city-deal-aberdeen-city-region>. Aberdeen Timelines. 24 Feb. 2022 <https://localhistories.org/a-timeline-of-aberdeen/> and <http://www.visitoruk.com/Aberdeen/13th-century-T339.html>. ACC. 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Cohendet, Patrick, David Grandadam, and Laurent Simon. “The Anatomy of the Creative City.” Industry and Innovation 17.1 (2010). 19 Mar. 2022 <https://doi.org/10.1080/13662710903573869>. Comunian, Roberta. “Rethinking the Creative City: The Role of Complexity, Networks and Interactions in the Urban Creative Economy.” Urban Studies 48.6 (2011) 1157-1179. Creative Scotland. “Cultivate: Look Again’s Creative Industries Development Programme in North East Scotland.” 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.creativescotland.com/explore/read/stories/features/2019/cultivate-look-agains-creative-industries-development-programme-in-north-east-scotland>. ———. “Restored and Re-Imagined Aberdeen Music Hall to Open to the Public in December.” 2018. 19 Mar. 2022 <https://www.creativescotland.com/what-we-do/latest-news/archive/2018/10/restored-and-re-imagined-aberdeen-music-hall-to-open-to-the-public-in-december>. 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New York: Basic Books 2002. Investaberdeen. “The UK’s Most Sustainable Venue.” 24 Feb. 2022 <https://investaberdeen.co.uk/flagship-projects/the-event-complex-aberdeen-(teca)>. Landry, Charles. “Lineages of the Creative City.” 24 Feb. 2022 <http://charleslandry.com/panel/wp-content/uploads/downloads/2013/03/Lineages-of-the-Creative-City.pdf>. McGillivray, David, and Turner, Daniel. Event Bidding: Politics, Persuasion and Resistance. Abingdon: Routledge 2018. McLean, Pauline. “Aberdeen Art Gallery Reopens after £34.6m Revamp.” BBC News, 2019. 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-north-east-orkney-shetland-50263849>. Museums Association. “Aberdeen Art Gallery Wins Architecture Award.” 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/news/2021/11/aberdeen-art-gallery-wins-architecture-award/#>. Opportunity North East (ONE). 5 June 2022 <Who We Are | ONE (opportunitynortheast.com)>. P&J. “12 Pictures Show the ‘Golden Age’ of Broadford Works.” 2015. 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.pressandjournal.co.uk/fp/news/591034/12-memorable-pictures-rolling-back-through-the-years-of-the-broadford-works/>. ———. History. 10 May 2022 <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/titles/aberdeen-press-and-journal>. Peacock Visual Arts. 6 June 2022 <https://peacock.studio/>. Port of Aberdeen. 24 Feb. 2022 <http://aberdeen-harbour.co.uk/about-us/history/#:~:text=Aberdeen%20Harbour%20was%20established%20in,has%20spanned%20almost%20900%20years>. Regeneris Consulting. “Aberdeen: Initial Bid for UK City of Culture – Feedback Points: UK City of Culture 2017.” 3 June 2022 <https://www.whatdotheyknow.com/request/297184/response/736087/attach/3/2017%20pt%201.pdf>. RGU. “Creative Accelerator Programme.” 2019. 10 May 2022 <https://www.rgu.ac.uk/news/news-2019/1902-rgu-launches-accelerator-to-support-next-generation-of-creatives>. ———. "Our History." 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.rgu.ac.uk/about/our-history>. ———. “Creating a New North.” 2014. 10 May 2022 <https://www3.rgu.ac.uk/file/creating-a-new-north-pdf-1-7-mb>. ———. “Regenerating Aberdeen: A Vision for a Thriving and Vibrant City Centre.” 2014. 10 May 2022 <https://rgu-repository.worktribe.com/output/248420/regenerating-aberdeen-a-vision-for-a-thriving-and-vibrant-city-centre>. RSA. “The Scottish Enlightenment and the Aberdeen Wise Club.” 2020. 24 Feb. 2022 <The Scottish Enlightenment and the Aberdeen Wise Club - RSA (thersa.org)>. Scottish Government. Creative Industries Policy Statement. 2019. 10 May 2022 <https://www.gov.scot/publications/policy-statement-creative-industries/>. Shore Porters Society. 24 Feb. 2022 <https://www.scotland.org/about-scotland/facts/worlds-oldest-transport-business>. 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Introduction The exhibition of an artist’s work is traditionally accepted as representing the final stage of the creative process (Staniszewski). This article asks, however, whether this traditional view can be reassessed so that the curatorial practice of mounting an exhibition becomes, itself, a creative outcome feeding into work that may still be in progress, and that simultaneously operates as a learning and teaching tool. To provide a preliminary examination of the issue, we use a single case study approach, taking an example of practice currently used at an Australian university. In this program, internal and external students work together to develop and deliver an exhibition of their own work in progress. The exhibition space has a professional website (‘CQUniversity Noosa Exhibition Space’), many community members and the local media attend exhibition openings, and the exhibition (which runs for three to four weeks) becomes an outcome students can include in their curriculum vitae. This article reflects on the experiences, challenges, and outcomes that have been gained through this process over the past twelve months. Due to this time frame, the case study is exploratory and its findings are provisional. The case study is an appropriate method to explore a small sample of events (in this case exhibitions) as, following Merriam, it allows the construction of a richer picture of an under-examined phenomenon to be constructed. Although it is clear that this approach will not offer results which can be generalised, it can, nevertheless, assist in opening up a field for investigation and constructing a holistic account of a phenomenon (in this case, the exhibition space as authentic learning experience and productive teaching tool), for, as Merriam states, “much can be learned from a particular case” (51). Jennings adds that even the smallest case study is useful as it includes an “in-depth examination of the subject with which to confirm or contest received generalizations” (14). Donmoyer extends thoughts on this, suggesting that the single case study is extremely useful as the “restricted conception of generalizability … solely in terms of sampling and statistical significance is no longer defensible or functional” (45). Using the available student course feedback, anonymous end-of-term course evaluations, and other available information, this case study account offers an example of what Merriam terms a “narrative description” (51), which seeks to offer readers the opportunity to engage and “learn vicariously from an encounter with the case” (Merriam 51) in question. This may, we propose, be particularly productive for other educators since what is “learn[ed] in a particular case can be transferred to similar situations” (Merriam 51). Breaking Ground exhibition, CQUniversity Noosa Exhibition Space, 2014. Photo by Ulrike Sturm. Background The Graduate Certificate of Creative Industries (Creative Practice) (CQU ‘CB82’) was developed in 2011 to meet the national Australian Quality Framework agency’s Level 8 (Graduate Certificate) standards in terms of what is called in their policies, the “level” of learning. This states that, following the program, graduates from this level of program “will have advanced knowledge and skills for professional or highly skilled work and/or further learning … [and] will apply knowledge and skills to demonstrate autonomy, well-developed judgment, adaptability and responsibility as a practitioner or learner” (AQF). The program was first delivered in 2012 and, since then, has been offered both two and three terms a year, attracting small numbers of students each term, with an average of 8 to 12 students a term. To meet these requirements, such programs are sometimes developed to provide professional and work-integrated learning tasks and learning outcomes for students (Patrick et al., Smith et al.). In this case, professionally relevant and related tasks and outcomes formed the basis for the program, its learning tasks, and its assessment regime. To this end, each student enrolled in this program works on an individual, self-determined (but developed in association with the teaching team and with feedback from peers) creative/professional project that is planned, developed, and delivered across one term of study for full- time students and two terms for part- timers. In order to ensure the AQF-required professional-level outcomes, many projects are designed and/or developed in partnership with professional arts institutions and community bodies. Partnerships mobilised utilised in this way have included those with local, state, and national bodies, including the local arts community, festivals, and educational support programs, as well as private business and community organisations. Student interaction with curation occurs regularly at art schools, where graduate and other student shows are scheduled as a regular events on the calendar of most tertiary art schools (Al-Amri), and the curated exhibition as an outcome has a longstanding tradition in tertiary fine arts education (Webb, Brien, and Burr). Yet in these cases, it is ultimately the creative work on show that is the focus of the learning experience and assessment process, rather than any focus on engagement with the curatorial process itself (Dally et al.). When art schools do involve students in the curatorial process, the focus usually still remains on the students' creative work (Sullivan). Another interaction with curation is when students undertaking a tertiary-level course or program in museum, and/or curatorial practice are engaged in the process of developing, mounting, and/or critiquing curated activities. These programs are, however, very small in number in Australia, where they are only offered at postgraduate level, with the exception of an undergraduate program at the University of Canberra (‘215JA.2’). By adopting “the exhibition” as a component of the learning process rather than its end product, including documentation of students’ work in progress as exhibition pieces, and incorporating it into a more general creative industries focused program, we argue that the curatorial experience can become an interactive learning platform for students ranging from diverse creative disciplines. The Student Experience Students in the program under consideration in this case study come from a wide spectrum of the creative industries, including creative writing, film, multimedia, music, and visual arts. Each term, at least half of the enrolments are distance students. The decision to establish an on-campus exhibition space was an experimental strategy that sought to bring together students from different creative disciplines and diverse locations, and actively involve them in the exhibition development and curatorial process. As well as their individual project work, the students also bring differing levels of prior professional experience to the program, and exhibit a wide range of learning styles and approaches when developing and completing their creative works and exegetical reflections. To cater for the variations listed above, but still meet the program milestones and learning outcomes that must (under the program rules) remain consistent for each student, we employed a multi-disciplinary approach to teaching that included strategies informed by Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences (Gardner, Frames of Mind), which proposed and defined seven intelligences, and repeatedly criticised what he identified as an over-reliance on linguistic and logical indices as identifiers of intelligence. He asserted that these were traditional indicators of high scores on most IQ measures or tests of achievement but were not representative of overall levels of intelligence. Gardner later reinforced that, “unless individuals take a very active role in what it is that they’re studying, unless they learn to ask questions, to do things hands on, to essentially re-create things in their own mind and transform them as is needed, the ideas just disappear” (Edutopia). In alignment with Gardner’s views, we have noted that students enrolled in the program demonstrate strengths in several key intelligence areas, particularly interpersonal, musical, body-kinaesthetic, and spacial/visual intelligences (see Gardner, ‘Multiple Intelligences’, 8–18). To cater for, and further develop, these strengths, and also for the external students who were unable to attend university-based workshop sessions, we developed a range of resources with various approaches to hands-on creative tasks that related to the projects students were completing that term. These resources included the usual scholarly articles, books, and textbooks but were also sourced from the print and online media, guest speaker presentations, and digital sites such as You Tube and TED Talks, and through student input into group discussions. The positive reception of these individual project-relevant resources is evidenced in the class online discussion forums, where consecutive groups of students have consistently reflected on the positive impact these resources have had on their individual creative projects: This has been a difficult week with many issues presenting. As part of our Free Writing exercise in class, we explored ‘brain dumping’ and wrote anything (no matter how ridiculous) down. The great thing I discovered after completing this task was that by allowing myself to not censor my thoughts by compiling a writing masterpiece, I was indeed “free” to express everything. …. … I understand that this may not have been the original intended goal of Free Writing – but it is something I would highly recommend external students to try and see if it works for you (Student 'A', week 5, term 1 2015, Moodle reflection point). I found our discussion about crowdfunding particularly interesting. ... I intend to look at this model for future exhibitions. I think it could be a great way for me to look into developing an exhibition of paintings alongside some more commercial collateral such as prints and cards (Student 'B', week 6, term 1 2015, Moodle reflection point). In class I specifically enjoyed the black out activity and found the online videos exceptional, inspiring and innovating. I really enjoyed this activity and it was something that I can take away and use within the classroom when educating (Student 'C', week 8, term 1 2015, Moodle reflection point). The application of Gardner’s principles and strategies dovetailed with our framework for assessing learning outcomes, where we were guided by Boud’s seven propositions for assessment reform in higher education, which aim to “set directions for change, designed to enhance learning achievements for all students and improve the quality of their experience” (26). Boud asserts that assessment has most effect when: it is used to engage students in productive learning; feedback is used to improve student learning; students and teachers become partners in learning and assessment; students are inducted into the assessment practices of higher education; assessment and learning are placed at the centre of subject and program design; assessment and learning is a focus for staff and institutional development; and, assessment provides inclusive and trustworthy representation of student achievement. These propositions were integral to the design of learning outcomes for the exhibition. Teachers worked with students, individually and as a group, to build their capacity to curate the exhibition, and this included such things as the design and administration of invitations, and also the physical placement of works within the exhibition space. In this way, teachers and students became partners in the process of assessment. The final exhibition, as a learning outcome, meant that students were engaged in productive learning that placed both assessment and knowledge at the centre of subject and project design. It is a collation of creative pieces that embodies the class, as a whole; however, each piece also represents the skills and creativity of individual students and, in this way, are is a trustworthy representations of student achievement. While we aimed to employ all seven recommendations, our main focus was on ensuring that the exhibition, as an authentic learning experience, was productive and that the students were engaged as responsible and accountable co-facilitators of it. These factors are particularly relevant as almost all the students were either currently working, or planning to work, in their chosen creative field, where the work would necessarily involve both publication, performance, and/or exhibition of their artwork plus collaborative practice across disciplinary boundaries to make this happen (Brien). For this reason, we provided exhibition-related coursework tasks that we hoped were engaging and that also represented an authentic learning outcome for the students. Student Curatorship In this context, the opportunity to exhibit their own works-in-progress provided an authentic reason, with a deadline, for students to both work, and reflect, on their creative projects. The documentation of each student’s creative process was showcased as a stand-alone exhibition piece within the display. These exhibits not only served not only to highlight the different learning styles of each student, but also proved to inspire creativity and skill development. They also provided a working model whereby students (and potential enrollees) could view other students’ work and creative processes from inception to fully-realised project outcomes. The sample online reflections quoted above not only highlight the effectiveness of the online content delivery, but this engagement with the online forum also allowed remote students to comment on each other’s projects as well as to and respond to issues they were encountering in their project planning and development and creative practice. It was essential that this level of peer engagement was fostered for the curatorial project to be viable, as both internal and external students are involved in designing the invitation, catalogue, labels, and design of the space, while on-campus students hang and label work according to the group’s directions. Distance students send in items. This is a key point of this experiment: the process of curating an exhibition of work from diverse creative fields, and from students located thousands of kilometres apart, as a way of bringing cohesion to a diverse cohort of students. That cohesiveness provided an opportunity for authentic learning to occur because it was in relation to a task that each student apparently understood as personally, academically, and professionally relevant. This was supported by the anonymous course evaluation comments, which were overwhelmingly positive about the exhibition process – there were no negative comments regarding this aspect of the program, and over 60 per cent of the class supplied these evaluations. This also met a considerable point of anxiety in the current university environment whereby actively engaging students in online learning interactions is a continuing issue (Dixon, Dixon, and Axmann). A key question is: what relevance does this curatorial process have for a student whose field is not visual art, but, for instance, music, film, or writing? By displaying documentation of work in progress, this process connects students of all disciplines with an audience. For example, one student in 2014 who was a singer/songwriter, had her song available to be played on a laptop, alongside photographs of the studio when she was recording her song with her band. In conjunction with this, the cover artwork for her CD, together with the actual CD and CD cover, were framed and exhibited. Another student, who was also a musician but who was completing a music history project, sent in pages of the music transcriptions he had been working on during the course. This manuscript was bound and exhibited in a way that prompted some audience members to commented that it was like an artist’s book as well as a collection of data. Both of these students lived over 1,000 kilometres from the campus where the exhibition was held, but they were able to share with us as teaching staff, as well as with other students who were involved in the physical setting up of the exhibition, exactly how they envisaged their work being displayed. The feedback from both of these students was that this experience gave them a strong connection to the program. They described how, despite the issue of distance, they had had the opportunity to participate in a professional event that they were very keen to include on their curricula vitae. Another aspect of students actively participating in the curation of an exhibition which features work from diverse disciplines is that these students get a true sense of the collaborative interconnectedness of the disciplines of the creative industries (Brien). By way of example, the exhibit of the singer/songwriter referred to above involved not only the student and her band, but also the photographer who took the photographs, and the artist who designed the CD cover. Students collaboratively decided how this material was handled in the exhibition catalogue – all these names were included and their roles described. Breaking Ground exhibition, CQUniversity Noosa Exhibition Space, 2014. Photo by Ulrike Sturm. Outcomes and Conclusion We believe that the curation of an exhibition and the delivery of its constituent components raises student awareness that they are, as creatives, part of a network of industries, developing in them a genuine understanding of the way the creating industries works as a profession outside the academic setting. It is in this sense that this curatorial task is an authentic learning experience. In fact, what was initially perceived as a significant challenge—, that is, exhibiting work in progress from diverse creative fields—, has become a strength of the curatorial project. In reflecting on the experiences and outcomes that have occurred through the implementation of this example of curatorial practice, both as a learning tool and as a creative outcome in its own right, a key positive indicator for this approach is the high level of student satisfaction with the course, as recorded in the formal, anonymous university student evaluations (with 60–100 per cent of these completed for each term, when the university benchmark is 50 per cent completion), and the high level of professional outcomes achieved post-completion. The university evaluation scores have been in the top (4.5–5/.5) range for satisfaction over the program’s eight terms of delivery since 2012. Particularly in relation to subsequent professional outcomes, anecdotal feedback has been that the curatorial process served as an authentic and engaged learning experience because it equipped the students, now graduates, of the program with not only knowledge about how exhibitions work, but also a genuine understanding of the web of connections between the diverse creative arts and industries. Indeed, a number of students have submitted proposals to exhibit professionally in the space after graduation, again providing anecdotal feedback that the experience they gained through our model has had a sustaining impact on their creative practice. While the focus of this activity has been on creative learning for the students, it has also provided an interesting and engaging teaching experience for us as the program’s staff. We will continue to gather evidence relating to our model, and, with the next iteration of the exhibition project, a more detailed comparative analysis will be attempted. At this stage, with ethics approval, we plan to run an anonymous survey with all students involved in this activity, to develop questions for a focus group discussion with graduates. We are also in the process of contacting alumni of the program regarding professional outcomes to map these one, two, and five years after graduation. We will also keep a record of what percentage of students apply to exhibit in the space after graduation, as this will also be an additional marker of how professional and useful they perceive the experience to be. In conclusion, it can be stated that the 100 per cent pass rate and 0 per cent attrition rate from the program since its inception, coupled with a high level (over 60 per cent) of student progression to further post-graduate study in the creative industries, has not been detrimentally affected by this curatorial experiment, and has encouraged staff to continue with this approach. References Al-Amri, Mohammed. “Assessment Techniques Practiced in Teaching Art at Sultan Qaboos University in Oman.” International Journal of Education through Art 7.3 (2011): 267–282. AQF Levels. Australian Qualifications Framework website. 18 June 2015 ‹http://www.aqf.edu.au/aqf/in-detail/aqf-levels/›. Boud, D. Student Assessment for Learning in and after Courses: Final Report for Senior Fellowship. Sydney: Australian Learning and Teaching Council, 2010. 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The WIL (Work Integrated Learning) Report: A National Scoping Study [Final Report]. Brisbane: Queensland University of Technology, 2008. Rule, A.C. “Editorial: The Components of Authentic Learning.” Journal of Authentic Learning 3.1 (2006): 1–10. Seawright, Jason, and John Gerring. “Case Selection Techniques in Case Study Research: A Menu of Qualitative and Quantitative Options.” Political Research Quarterly 61.2 (2008): 294–308. Smith, Martin, Sally Brooks, Anna Lichtenberg, Peter McIlveen, Peter Torjul, and Joanne Tyler. Career Development Learning: Maximising the Contribution of Work-Integrated Learning to the Student Experience. Final project report, June 2009. Wollongong: University of Wollongong, 2009. Sousa, D.A. How the Brain Learns: A Teacher’s Guide. 2nd ed. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press, 2001. Stake, R. “Qualitative Case Studies”. The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research. 3rd ed. Eds. N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2005. 433-466. 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Introduction Artist: June 2 at 11.26pm:‘To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing.’ - Raymond Williams. (Singaporean Artists’ public Facebook Post) Can the critical arts exist without ‘place’?There is an ongoing debate on ‘place’ and where it begins and ends; on the ways that cities exist in both material and immaterial forms, and thereby, how to locate and understand place as an anchoring point amidst global flows (Massey; Merrifield). This debate extends to the global art- scape, as traditional conceptions of art and art-making attached to place require re-thinking in a paradigm where digital and immaterial networks, symbols and forums both complement and complicate the role that place has traditionally played (Luger, “Singaporean ‘Spaces of Hope?”). The digital art-scape has allowed for art-led provocations, transformations and disturbances to traditional institutions and gatekeepers (see Hartley’s “ Communication, Media, and Cultural Studies” concept of ‘gatekeeper’) of the art world, which often served as elite checkpoints and way-stations to artistic prominence. Still, contradictory and paradoxical questions emerge, since art cannot be divorced of place entirely, and ‘place’ often features as a topic, subject, or site of critical expression for art regardless of material or immaterial form. Critical art is at once place-bound and place-less; anchored to sites even as it transcends them completely.This paper will explore the dualistic tension – and somewhat contradictory relationship – between physical and digital artistic space through the case study of authoritarian Singapore, by focusing on a few examples of art-activists and the way that they have used and manipulated both physical and digital spaces for art-making. These examples draw upon research which took place in Singapore from 2012-2014 and which involved interviews with, and observation of, a selected sample (30) of art-activists (or “artivists”, to use Krischer’s definition). Findings point to a highly co-dependent relationship between physical and digital art places where both offer unique spaces of possibility and limitations. Therefore, place remains essential in art-making, even as digital avenues expand and amplify what critical art-practice can accomplish.Singapore’s Place-Bound and Place-Less Critical Art-Scape The arts in Singapore have a complicated, and often tense relationship with places such as the theatre, the gallery, and the public square. Though there has been a recent push (in the form of funding to arts groups and physical arts infrastructure) to make Singapore more of an arts and cultural destination (see Luger “The Cultural Grassroots and the Authoritarian City”), the Singaporean arts-scape remains bound by restrictions and limitations, and varying degrees of de facto (and de jure) censorship and self-policing. This has opened up spaces for critical art, albeit in sometimes creative and surprising forms. As explained to me by a Singaporean playwright,So they’re [the state] making venues, as well as festival organizers, as well as theatre companies, to …self-police, or self-censor. But for us on the ground, we use that as a way to focus on what we still want to say, and be creative about it, so that we circumvent the [state], with the intention of doing what we want to do. (Research interview, Singaporean playwright)Use of cyber-spaces is one way that artists circumvent repressive state structures. Restrictions on the use of place enliven cyberspace with an emancipatory and potentially transformative potential for the critical arts. Cyber-Singapore has a vocal art-activist network and has allowed some artists (such as the “Sticker Lady”) to gain wide national and even international followings. However, digital space cannot exist without physical place; indeed, the two exist, simultaneously, forming and re-forming each other. The arts cannot ‘happen’ online without a corresponding physical space for incubation, for practice, for human networking.It is important to note that in Singapore, art-led activism (or ‘artivism’) and traditional activism are closely related, and research indicated that activist networks often overlap with the art world. While this may be the case in many places, Singapore’s small geography and the relatively wide-berth given to the arts (as opposed to political activism) make these relationships especially strong. Therefore, many arts-spaces (theatres, galleries, studios) function as activist spaces; and non-art spaces such as public squares and university campuses often host art events and displays. Likewise, many of the artists that I interviewed are either directly, or indirectly, involved in more traditional activism as well.Singapore is an island-nation-city-state with a carefully planned urban fabric, the vast majority of which is state-owned (at least 80 % - resulting from large-scale land transfers from the British in the years surrounding Singapore’s independence in 1965). Though it has a Westminster-style parliamentary system (another colonial vestige), a single ruling party has commanded power for 50 years (the People’s Action Party, or PAP). Despite free elections and a liberal approach toward business, foreign investment and multiculturalism, Singapore retains a labyrinthine geography of government control over free expression, dictated through agencies such as the Censorship Review Committee (CRC); the Media Development Authority (MDA), and the National Arts Council (NAC) which work together in a confusing grid of checks and balances. This has presented a paradoxical and often contradictory approach to the arts and culture in which gradual liberalisations of everything from gay nightlife to university discourse have come hand-in-hand with continued restrictions on political activism and ‘taboo’ artistic / cultural themes. These ‘out of bounds’ themes (see Yue) include perceived threats to Singapore’s racial, religious, or political harmony – a grey area that is often at the discretion of particular government bureaucrats and administrators.Still, the Singaporean arts place (take the theatre, for example) has assumed a special role as a focal point for not only various types of visual and performance art, but also unrelated (or tangentially-related) activist causes as well. I asked a theatre director of a prominent alternative theatre where, in Singapore’s authoritarian urban fabric, there were opportunities for provocation? He stressed the theatres’ essential role in providing a physical platform for visual tensions and disturbance:You know, and on any given evening, you’ll see some punks or skinheads hanging outside there, and they kind of – create this disturbance in this neighbourhood, where, you know a passer-by is walking to his posh building, and then suddenly you know, there’s this bunch of boys with mohawks, you know, just standing there – and they are friendly! There’s nothing antagonistic or threatening, whatever. So, you know, that’s the kind of tension that we actually love to kind of generate!… That kind of surprise, that kind of, ‘oh, oh yes!’ we see this nice, expensive restaurant, this nice white building, and then these rough edges. And – that is where uh, those points where – where factions, where the rough edges meet –are where dialogue occurs. (Theatre Director, Singapore)That is not to say that the theatre comes without limits and caveats. It is financially precarious, as the Anglo-American model of corporate funding for the arts is not yet well-established in Singapore; interviews revealed that even much of the philanthropic donating to arts organizations comes from Singapore’s prominent political families and therefore the task of disentangling state interests from non-ideological arts patronage becomes difficult. With state - funding come problems with “taboo” subjects, as exemplified by the occasional banned-play or the constant threat of budget cuts or closure altogether: a carrot and stick approach by the state that allows arts organizations room to operate as long as the art produced does not disturb or provoke (too) much.Liew and Pang suggest that in Singapore, cyberspace has allowed a scale, a type of debate and a particularly cross-cutting conversation to take place: in a context where there are peculiar restrictions on the use and occupation of the built environment. They [ibid] found an emerging vocal, digital artistic grassroots that increasingly challenges the City-State’s dominant narratives: my empirical research therefore expands upon, and explores further, the possibility that Singapore’s cyber-spaces are both complementary to, and in some ways, more important than its material places in terms of providing spaces for political encounters.I conducted ‘netnography’ (see Kozinets) across Singapore’s web-scape and found that the online realm may be the ‘… primary site for discursive public activity in general and politics in particular’ (Mitchell, 122); a place where ‘everybody is coming together’ (Merrifield, 18). Without fear of state censorship, artists, activists and art-activists are not bound by the (same) set of restrictions that they might be if operating in a theatre, or certainly in a public place such as a park or square. Planetary cyber-Singapore exists inside and outside the City-State; it can be accessed remotely, and can connect with a far wider audience than a play performed in a small black box theatre.A number of blogs and satirical sites – including TheOnlineCitizen.sg, TheYawningBread.sg, and Demon-Cratic Singapore, openly criticize government policy in ways rarely heard in-situ or in even casual conversation on the street. Additionally, most activist causes and coalitions have digital versions where information is spread and support is gathered, spanning a range of issues. As is the case in material sites of activism in Singapore, artists frequently emerge as the loudest, most vocal, and most inter-disciplinary digital activists, helping to spearhead and cobble together cultural-activist coalitions and alliances. One example of this is the contrast between the place bound “Pink Dot” LGBTQ event (limited to the amount of people that can fit in Hong Lim Park, a central square) and its Facebook equivalent, We are Pink Dot public ‘group’. Pink Dot occurs each June in Singapore and involves around 10,000 people. The Internet’s representations of Pink Dot, however, have reached millions: Pink Dot has been featured in digital (and print) editions of major global newspapers including The Guardian and The New York Times. While not explicitly an art event, Pink Dot is artistic in nature as it uses pink ‘dots’ to side-step the official designation of being an LGBTQ pride event – which would not be sanctioned by the authorities (Gay Pride has not been allowed to take place in Singapore).The street artist Samantha Lo – also known as “Sticker Lady” – was jailed for her satirical stickers that she placed in various locations around Singapore. Unable to freely practice her art on city streets, she has become a sort of local artist - Internet celebrity, with her own Facebook Group called Free Sticker Lady (with over 1,000 members as of April, 2016). Through her Facebook group, Lo has been able to voice opinions that would be difficult – or even prohibited – with a loudspeaker on the street, or expressed through street art. As an open lesbian, she has also been active (and vocal) in the “Pink Dot” events. Her speech at “Pink Dot” was heard by the few-thousand in attendance at the time; her Facebook post (public without privacy settings) is available to the entire world:I'll be speaking during a small segment at Pink Dot tomorrow. Though only two minutes long, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my speech and finding myself at a position where there's just so much to say. All my life, I've had to work twice as hard to prove myself, to be taken seriously. At 18, I made a conscious decision to cave in to societal pressures to conform after countless warnings of how I wouldn't be able to get a job, get married, etc. I grew my hair out, dressed differently, but was never truly comfortable with the person I became. That change was a choice, but I wasn't happy.Since then, I learnt that happiness wasn't a given, I had to work for it, for the ability to be comfortable in my own skin, to do what I love and to make something out of myself. (Artists’ Facebook Post)Yet, without the city street, Lo would not have gained her notoriety; without use of the park, Pink Dot would not have a Facebook presence or the ability to gather international press. The fact that Singaporean theatre exists at all as an important instigator of visual and performative tension demonstrates the significance of its physical address. Physical art places provide a crucial period of incubation – practice and becoming – that cannot really be replicated online. This includes schools and performance space but also in Singapore’s context, the ‘arts-housing’ that is provided by the government to small-scale, up-and-coming artists through a competitive grant process. Artists can receive gallery, performance or rehearsal space for a set amount of time on a rotating basis. Even with authoritarian restrictions, these spaces have been crucial for arts development:There’s a short-term [subsidised] residency studio …for up to 12 months. And so that –allows for a rotating group of artists to come with an idea in mind, use it for whatever- we’ve had artists who were preparing for a major show, and say ‘my studio space, my existing studio space is a bit too tiny, because I’m prepping for this show, I need a larger studio for 3 months. (Arts Administrator, Singapore)Critical and provocative art, limited and restricted by place, is thus still intrinsically bound to it. Indeed, the restrictions on artistic place allow cyber-art to flourish; cyber-art can only flourish with a strong place- based anchor. Far from supplanting place-based art, the digital art-scape forms a complement; digital and place-based art forms combine to form new hybridities in which local context and global forces write and re-write each other in a series of place and ‘placeless’ negotiations. Conclusion The examples that have been presented in this paper paint a picture of a complex landscape where specific urban sites are crucial anchoring nodes in a critical art ecosystem, but much artistic disturbance actually occurs online and in immaterial forms. This may hint at the possibility that globally, urban sites themselves are no longer sufficient for critical art to flourish and reach its full potential, especially as such sites have increasingly fallen prey to austerity policies, increasingly corporate and / or philanthropic programming and curation, and the comparatively wider reach and ease of access that digital spaces offer.Electronic or digital space – ranging from e-mail to social media (Twitter, blogs, Facebook and many others) has opened a new frontier in which, “… material public spaces in the city are superseded by the fora of television, radio talk shows and computer bulletin boards” (Mitchell. 122). The possibility now emerges whether digital space may be even more crucial than material public spaces in terms of emancipatory or critical potential– especially in authoritarian contexts where public space / place comes with particular limits and restrictions on assembling, performance, and critical expression. These contexts range from Taksim Square, Istanbul to Tiananmen Square, Beijing – but indeed, traditional public place has been increasingly privatized and securitized across the Western-liberal world as well. Where art occurs in place it is often stripped of its critical potential or political messages, sanctioned or sponsored by corporate groups or sanitized by public sector authorities (Schuilenburg, 277).The Singapore case may be especially stark due to Singapore’s small size (and corresponding lack of visible public ‘places’); authoritarian restrictions and correspondingly (relatively) un-policed and un-censored cyberspace. But it is fair to say that at a time when Youtube creates instant celebrities and Facebook likes or Instagram followers indicate fame and (potential) fortune – it is time to re-think and re-conceptualise the relationship between place, art, and the place-based institutions (such as grant-funding bodies or philanthropic organizations, galleries, critics or dealers) that have often served as “gatekeepers” to the art-scape. This invites challenges to the way these agents operate and the decision making process of policy-makers in the arts and cultural realm.Mitchell (124) reminded that there has “never been a revolution conducted exclusively in electronic space; at least not yet.” But that was 20 years ago. Singapore may offer a glimpse, however, of what such a revolution might look like. This revolution is neither completely place bound nor completely digital; it is one in which the material and immaterial interplay and overlap in post-modern complexity. Each platform plays a role, and understanding the way that art operates both in place and in “placeless” forms is crucial in understanding where key transformations take place in both the production of critical art and the production of urban space.What Hartley (“The Politics of Pictures”) called the “space of citizenry” is not necessarily confined to a building, the city street or a public square (or even private spaces such as the home, the car, the office). Sharon Zukin likewise suggested that ultimately, a negotiation of a city’s digital sphere is crucial for current-day urban research, arguing that:Though I do not think that online communities have replaced face to face interaction, I do think it is important to understand the way web-based media contribute to our urban imaginary. The interactive nature of the dialogue, how each post feeds on the preceding ones and elicits more, these are expressions of both difference and consensus, and they represent partial steps toward an open public sphere. (27)Traditional gatekeepers such as the theatre director, the museum curator and the state or philanthropic arts funding body have not disappeared, though they must adapt to the new cyber-reality as artists have new avenues around these traditional checkpoints. Accordingly – “old” problems such as de-jure and de-facto censorship reappear in the cyber art-scape as well: take the example of the Singaporean satirical bloggers that have been sued by the government in 2013-2016 (such as the socio-political bloggers and satirists Roy Ngerng and Alex Au). No web-space is truly open.A further complication may be the corporate nature of sites such as Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, or Twitter: far from truly democratic platforms or “agoras” in the traditional sense, these are for-profit (massive) corporations – which a small theatre is not. Singapore’s place based authoritarianism may be multiplied in the corporate authoritarianism or “CEO activism” of tech titans like Mark Zuckerberg, who allow for diverse use of digital platforms and encourage open expression and unfettered communication – as long as it is on their terms, within company policies that are not always transparent.Perhaps the questions then really are not where ‘art’ begins and ends, or where a place starts or stops – but rather where authoritarianism, state and corporate power begin and end in the hyper-connected global cyber-scape? And, if these power structures are now stretched across space and time as Marxist theorists such as Massey or Merrifield claimed, then what is the future for critical art and its relationship to ‘place’?Despite these unanswered questions and invitations for further exploration, the Singapore case may hint at what this emerging geography of place and ‘placeless’ art resembles and how such a new world may evolve moving forward. ReferencesHartley, John. The Politics of Pictures: the Creation of the Public in the Age of Popular Media. Perth: Psychology Press, 1992.———. Communication, Media, and Cultural Studies: The Key Concepts. Oxford: Routledge, 2012. Kozinets, Robert. Netnography: Doing Ethnographic Research Online. New York: Sage, 2010. Krischer, Oliver. “Lateral Thinking: Artivist Networks in East Asia.” ArtAsia Pacific 77 (2012): 96-110. 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