Articles de revues sur le sujet « Sand borrow areas »

Movements of borrow sand replenished at two coasts of different configurations are investigated by analyzing the topographic data which were surveyed periodically after the beach fill placements. One is a long straight beach and borrow sand was placed behind a submerged breakwater. Another is a pocket beach which has an arcshoreline with a groyne at one end and a headland at another. It is found that the amount of borrow sand moved in the longshore direction surpasses the amount of borrow sand transported in the cross-shore direction regardless of the shape of the coast. A clear correlation is also found between displacements of shoreline and changes of sectional areas. These results imply that the deformation of the artificially nourished beach and the dissipation rate of borrow sand can be predicted by the so-called one-line theory.

The coastline of Panama City Beach, Florida (FL) has been stricken by several hurricanes during the last decades, especially after 1995. In 1998, beach nourishment projects started being implemented to address the impacts of the hurricanes on the coast. Sources of sand for that purpose are commonly from borrow areas located just offshore of the nourishment site. Impacts of these nearshore dredge pits on adjacent coasts will depend on incident wave conditions, nourishment sediment characteristics and some features of the borrow pit (distance from the shore, depth of cut, cross-shore extent, alongshore extent and orientation - Bender & Dean, 2003; Benedet & List, 2008). The practical goal of the current study was to mitigate for the negative potential effects by discovering the less impactful design of dredge pit geometries on the Borrow Area S1 in Bay County-FL. Five different cut widths and excavation depths within the permitted limits were herein evaluated. Evaluation of morphological impacts on adjacent beaches was carried with the processed-based morphodynamic model Delft3D, calibrated and simulated for a period of 13 years. Results were evaluated in terms of beach volume changes compared against a baseline simulation (no action).Switching from Alternative 1 (6,260,000 m³) to Alternative 2 (5,380,000 m³) does not result in a substantial reduction of the borrow area’s projected impact. The cut depth is still deep, and the surface area is unchanged. Alternative 3 (3,555,000 m³) is able to provide more substantial reductions in the borrow area’s impact. By reducing the acreage of the borrow area and switching to a uniform cut depth, the projected impact of the borrow area decreases 39% for 1.56 km along the downdrift beach. Under Alternatives 4 (3,060,000 m³) and 5 (2,755,000 m³), the impacts of the borrow area are projected to be less than 3.75 m³/m/yr. While both alternatives are viable, Alternative 5 minimizes potential impacts, and has a uniform cut depth and a volume that still satisfies the project’s requirements. Given these considerations, Alternative 5 is the preferred alternative. Additionally, all the alternatives increase the net-accretion along 6.5 km of Shell Island between 0.25 to 1 m³/lm/yr., a valuable side effect in a region with high net erosion. By conducting various simulations an optimal borrow area design has been identified that reduces its effects on the adjacent beaches.

Various solutions, which consist of numerous techniques, technologies and planning measures, are testing for reduction shoreline erosion, precisely for protection shore against waves attack. These methods may affect the site's geology and geomorphology, involving changes of the habitats in the site. Coastal defense projects and ideas must take into account the structure and functions of protected natural areas and their conservation objectives in order to avoid threatening the species and/or habitats on the site. The ecological impacts expected from coast protection structures on short-term are mostly negative, may disturbance the birds from their habitat, and destruct the marine coastal habitats with their own flora and fauna. In this study, we are indicating the effects of coastal protection measures on the ecosystem. Therefore, we present a part of methods applied or which will be apply on the Romanian shoreline and the effects that have an impact on the species and/or habitats on the site. The methods referred to “hard” methods so to harder the shore with fixed structure (bulkhead, seawall, revetment, breakwaters, sills or groins) or “soft” methods like beach nourishment that is not a sustainable method in time. The protection structures like breakwaters and groins trap or add sand and will change the beach geometry this means that can introduce new artificial material, which is extensively and rapidly colonized by algae and marine animals. In the cases of beach nourishment, under water sand nourishment and mudflat recharge, there are impacts both at the borrow site (the sediment source) and the target site. In the zone of extraction of borrow, sediments appear a damage and mortality to the benthos. Finally, it can conclude that some of the effects are beneficial for socio-economic aspect, but it is important also, the environment, which can bring bad consequences for earth landscape and make the ecosystem, be unbalanced.

Beach nourishment is a common strategy for erosion mitigation that also increases coastal resilience to storm impacts, provides habitat, and supports the economy. Regulations often require that placed sediment closely match the native grain size distribution and composition, however characteristics can vary based on the borrow site. Certain sediment properties will also influence beach slope and other critical beach functions. This study evaluates the 3-dimensional sediment properties and beach morphology of nourished and non-nourished barrier island beaches in northern Palm Beach County, Florida, USA. Surveyed beach profiles were compared with predicted slope based on median grain size. The inlet-adjacent beach managed with annual placement of beneficial use of dredged materials consisted of poorly sorted coarse sand and the steepest measured slope. Sediment was progressively finer and better sorted downdrift with decreasing foreshore slopes. Although sediment near the shoreline is typically the coarsest, clasts were finer than the mid-beach location suggesting that the sampling period coincided with beach recovery and onshore sediment transport of finer material. Sediment at the surface differed from sediment at depth, likely due to the frequent introduction of sediment from various borrow areas compared to the dominance of weathered coquina at depth. The non-carbonate, siliciclastic fraction was primary quartz with few other minerals. The estimated beach slope at the location with the coarsest sediment matched the measured slope. A lower beach slope was predicted for the other locations with finer grain sizes at the shoreline that was attributed to slightly steeper slopes associated with beach accretion. Therefore, complicated spatio-temporal morphodynamics of beaches should be considered when using median grain size from only one sampling event.

The San Juan Bay Estuary Program and the Corporation for the Conservation of the San Juan Bay Estuary, intends to develop a cost-effective and environmentally acceptable plan for water quality improvement and seagrass restoration in the Condado Lagoon. One of the principal challenges associated with this Project is evaluating options for dredge material sources (borrow sites), transport, and placement in the Condado Lagoon to achieve the ecological restoration goal. A potential borrow site has been identified in the northwestern side of San Juan Bay near La Esperanza Peninsula. The accretion of sediment near the Peninsula has inhibited tidal flushing to this area from San Juan Bay. The implementation of this Project would support the beneficial use initiative by dredging the shoaling material at La Esperanza Peninsula and filling the artificial depressions in Condado Lagoon to improve water circulation at both the dredge and fill sites; as well as providing habitat for epibenthic growth in the Lagoon. In March 2011, Tetra Tech performed baseline investigations in Condado Lagoon, Puerto Rico in support of the San Juan Bay Estuary Program’s Water Quality Improvement and Seagrass Restoration Project. Field investigations included a bathymetric (multibeam) survey, benthic community data collection and sediment sampling. The results of the surveys were used to characterize benthic habitats in the Lagoon and to assist in evaluating alternatives for restoring the Lagoon to a gradient that supports a diverse epibenthic assemblage of Lagoon and estuarine species, specifically seagrass communities. In addition to the above mentioned investigations, Caribbean Oceanography Group deployed GPS-tracked lagrangian drifters in the lagoon in order to gather current data for the calibration of a hydrodynamic model of the Condado Lagoon. The intent of the multibeam survey was to map the existing depths and bathymetric features within Condado Lagoon, with an emphasis on detailing the extents of seven artificial depressions. The results of the survey determined a minimum depth of 0.8 m and maximum depth of 10.4 m (2.6 to 34.1 ft) in the Lagoon. Maximum depths were recorded in the center of the dredge holes, which are located in the center and eastern end of the Lagoon. The results of the multibeam survey were also used to support depth-based in situ data collection of the benthic community. The results of the benthic survey indicate a regional separation in benthic community diversity and abundance. The south-central and southeastern sides of the Lagoon support low to no biotic cover. This is contrary to the biotic diversity and abundance at the western, north-central and northeastern sides of the Lagoon. The benthic data also showed a segregation of benthic community assemblages between three depth ranges (shallow 1.8 to 2.4 m [6.0 to 8.0 ft]; mid (2.7 to 5.8 m [9 to 19 ft]); and deep 6.1 to 9.1 m [20 to 30 ft]). The benthic community in the mid depth range supports the greatest diversity and abundance of organisms. The areas with little to no biotic cover correspond to the dredged areas of the Condado Lagoon. Typical of low energy environments, finer grained sediments are located in the central and eastern regions of the Lagoon. Grain size analyses reported coarse material at the La Esperanza Peninsula sample site and the western end of Condado Lagoon, which are indicative of currents and regular water exchange in these locations. Organic content decreases from west to east in the Lagoon which supports the observations of lower benthic cover in the south-central and southeastern Lagoon compared to the western region. Based on the 2011 baseline investigations, H. decipiens was determined to be the most prevalent seagrass species in the Lagoon, followed by T. testudinum. Fill volume calculations based solely on the bathymetric survey results, estimate between 132,211 and 488,719 cy of fill material needed to support a water depth gradient (2.7 to 5.8 m [9.0 to 19.0 ft]) conducive to H. decipiens and T. testudinum growth in the central and eastern portions of the Lagoon. More specifically, the baseline results suggest a preferred depth of 4.05 m (13.3 ft) for H. decipiens, which would require between approximately 317,629 and 336,504 cy of fill material to restore a portion of the Lagoon. Caribbean Oceanography Group (with the support of Tetra Tech) has modeled the circulation within the Lagoon using the Environmental Fluid Dynamics Code (EFDC) hydrodynamic model. Modeling results reveal a complex circulation within the Condado Lagoon that is largely wind driven. A statistical analysis of the wind record for NOAA’s U.S. Coast Guard Station ID 9755371, located at the western end of the model domain was carried out, and 70%, 80%, 90%, 95% and 98% exceedance levels were determined. Model results show that under the 98% wind speed exceedance scenario, two of the examined locations within the dredged area of the lagoon experience a shear stress large enough to trigger a minimum sand grain diameter requirement for stability through the Shields relation. The locations and their minimum sand grain diameters are: A-2 with 0.46 mm and A-3 with 0.21 mm. These grain sizes correspond to Medium Sand and Fine Sand, respectively (after Wentworth (1922)). Evaluation of the direction of the shear at the above mentioned locations reveals that a portion of the material eroded from location A-2 (the medium sand) will be deposited at location A-3, and the rest (the fine sand) will be deposited at some combination of locations A-4, A-5, A-6 and A-7. Likewise the material originally eroded from location A-3 (fine sand) will be deposited at some combination of locations A-4, A-5, A-6 and A-7. Therefore, any unstable material placed at locations A-2 and A-3 will merely be shifted to another location within the fill area with a lower shear stress where it will become stable. Therefore the requirements for fill stability in the Condado Lagoon in terms of grain size are: 1) In order to remain stable under a 98% exceedance wind event, fill at location A-2 should be composed of sand with a grain diameter greater than 0.46 mm. In other words, Medium to Coarse sand should be used to fill location A-2. 2) In order to remain stable under a 98% exceedance wind event, fill at location A-3 should be composed of sand with a grain diameter greater than 0.21 mm. In other words, Fine to Medium sand should be used to fill location A-3. Of note is the finding that any material too fine to remain stable at either A-2 or A-3 will be deposited at some combination of the remaining fill locations, and thus will not be lost from the fill area, nor will it be unstable and cause problems elsewhere in the lagoon. It should be kept in mind that the lower exceedance levels (95% or less) did not present any minimum sand grain size requirements for stability. For those cases, sand fill of any grain size remains stable. Likewise, a higher exceedance level than 98% would require coarser fill at A-2 and A-3 than that discussed above. In either case, however, the eroded material would remain within the fill area, being deposited the downstream at a more sheltered location

Abstract The paper deals with a sandy shore located on the open sea side of the Hel Peninsula in Poland (the south Baltic Sea coast). The study site displays a cross-shore profile that intensively dissipates wave energy, mostly due to breaking. The theoretical modelling of wave transformation at this site reveals specific distributions of wave heights and bed shear stresses. The sediment borrow areas, presently used and identified for future exploitation, are located inconveniently far from the periodically re-nourished shores. The paper presents the possibilities of dredging works in the coastal zone that would not disturb the natural nearshore motion of water and sediments. The results of the study can be helpful in formulating generic safety standards, at least with respect to dissipative shores of non-tidal or micro-tidal seas, like the Baltic Sea.

A study was carried out to determine the knowledge, attitude and practices of grooms towards brucellosis in Kaduna State, Nigeria. Structured questionnaires were administered to 40 horse owners and grooms’ men in three Local Government Areas (LGAs); Sabon Gari, Zaria and Igabi; of Kaduna State, Nigeria to access knowledge, attitude and practices towards brucellosis in horses. Results from structured questionnaire showed only 37.50% (95% CI) of the respondents were aware of brucellosis, of this 22.50% (95% CI) ascribed their sources of information on the disease to be the media, 10.00% (95% CI) from experienced grooms while 5.00% (95% CI) said they heard of the disease from professionals who attended to the veterinary care of their horses. Of the respondents, only 15.00% (95% CI) were aware that brucellosis is zoonotic and mentioned that it could be contracted via ingestion of contaminated material (12.50%) and contact (2.50%). On attitude of respondents towards brucellosis, 15.00% (95% CI) reported lending out their stallions for breeding to other stables. Only 2.50% (95% CI) did not borrow stallions for breeding because they considered brucellosis and trichomoniasis as reproductive diseases that could result from the use infected stallions. The study also reported 52.50% (95% CI) and 40.00% (95% CI) of the respondents were in the habit of lending and borrowing out grooming tools respectively. They lend and borrow out tool despite mentioning that such acts are capable of leading to diseases such as ulcerative lymphangitis (95.00%), ringworm (72.50%), dermatophilosis (5.00%) and thrush (7.50%). 67.50% (95% CI) of respondents mentioned that they participated in durbars and other tournaments with their horses and reported such participation could result in diseases like ulcerative lymphangitis (25.00%) and wounds (27.50%). 50.00% (95% CI) of the respondents grazed their horses where other animals grazed and reported that even where there were reports of abortions by such animals their horses did not come down with brucellosis. All the respondents reported giving their horses’ routine veterinary medical care, especially against babesiosis. The implication of this finding is that Brucella organisms may be spread among horse handlers and the grooms due to inadequate knowledge on brucellosis. The findings revealed poor knowledge attitude and practices towards brucellosis on the part of horse handlers and grooms. It was concluded that there is a need to create awareness amongst groomsmen and horse owners on the presence of brucellosis in horses as well as the dangers of zoonotic infection.

This brief survey of 19th century Latin America countries economy offered for reader’s attention represents the second article within a series of papers thought by the author in order to follow historical genesis of economical complex of regional states. The indicated period is to be of special interest due to the fact that within it happened development of its specialization accompanied by fundamental processes in commodity production based on destructing of communal Indian land ownership, abolition of slavery and stimulating of European immigration. The experience obtained during application of liberal conceptions in Latin America’s states at the beginning of capitalist economy clearly showed senselessness to borrow alien ideology without taking into consideration local specifics, because this fact frequently contradicted the needs of authentic development in the receiving countries. As a rule these conceptions represented requirements of foreign agents as well as interests of small part of local society aimed at intensification in exploitation of labour and natural resources. Moreover, its implementation led to strengthening of financial and political dependence, imposing rapid economic transformation and converting young creole republics into pseudo-state political formations («banana republics» in Central America, Puerto Rico, Cuba). Submitting more advanced South American areas (La Plata, Brazil, Peru) neocolonial methods have been tested: ruinous foreign loans, direct and indirect control of local industries and change of its structure in the interests of overseas investors. Here could be mentioned artificial boom of raw material export, control and destruction of local processing works. The said economic paradigm conditioned convulsive forms of social life: appearance of caudillos, dictatorships and authoritarian regimes as well as interregional conflicts (Pacific «Salitre» War between Chile, Peru and Bolivia, intervention of Triple Alliance in Paraguay, separation of Panama for constructing of interocean channel etc.). In particular, dynamics and correlation of these events in context of struggle for real national emancipation laid foundations for contemporary state of economic situation in each country including its alliances and determined its peripheral position in international division of labour. This phenomenon should be considered for building effective cooperation with the most of regional partners.

This pioneer study unravelled the economic implications of Senior High School (SHS) curriculum to parents in the rural area of Jolo and the urban center of Zamboanga City. Finding out the significant difference of said implications to parents clustered according to: Area Status, and Children’s Grade Level and Children’s School Type, and SHS-Associated Factors causing financial difficulty to them in both areas are also within the confine of this endeavour. As an expose facto cross-sectoral and evaluative survey, this research employed a qualitative descriptive approach. One hundred twenty seven (127) respondents comprising of parents and senior high principals/coordinators/directors were determined through a Purposive sampling method. Weighted Mean, t-test (Independent Sample-Test), and Ordinal Scales were utilized in analysing the data. The findings are forwarded - The economic implications of the curriculum to parents in both areas are as follows: more spending for school and non-school needs of children, compromised other household expenses and needs of the family, difficulty to support the education of senior high and non-senior high children, compromised expenses on non- senior high children, increased in educational expenses, costly secondary education, increased of daily expenses, financial burden, difficulty to manage income, difficulty to deal with tuition and miscellaneous fees, difficulty to save money, compromised personal and social expenses, need to generate extra income and borrow money to support the education of children, difficulty to extend financially assistance to needy relatives and friends (rural respondents), and difficulty to attend to social obligations on regular basis (rural respondents). As to the extent/intensity of the implications, parents in SCT-SHS and NDJC-SHS in rural area are more affected by the curriculum than the rest. While in urban center, parents in DPLMHS-SASHS and TTNHS-SHS are more affected than those in the four senior high schools. Generally, the extent/intensity of the economic implications of the curriculum to parents in both areas is slight. Income and tuition fee are among the top-ranking pre-determined SHS-Associated Factors causing financial difficulty to parents in rural area and urban center, and in the twelve senior high schools in both areas. Specifically, parents are shelling-out an average of PhP35,000 to 45,000 every year for the senior high education of their children. From the study findings, the researcher developed a model dubbed as Cycle of Despondency. The curriculum increases the private costs of education and burgles effluent family of two years of indispensable child’s contribution in terms of labor opportunity cost. Above all, it is taxing to parents beyond their financial capability to cope. Scrapping it, however, is indubitably not an astute plan. Instead, immediate and sweeping review and modification are prudent stratagems to undertake since it is already running for four years now. Program mitigating its pecuniary repercussions to parents have to be devised, along with inflexible regulation of school fees and charges. The Civil Service Commission (CSC) and corporate entities have to amend some job “educational requirements” to accommodate senior high graduates in the labor market. Studies on the economic aspect of the curriculum must be launched by various social divides - to spot genuine recommendations in aid of legislation and curriculum planning in general and map out alternative methodologies to minimize its impacts to family in particular. Otherwise, the curriculum will completely end up in fiasco.

The U.S. continental shelf is an important sediment source for beach nourishment and restoration efforts that mitigate erosion, increase resilience to storm impacts, provide habitat, and support the economy. The continental shelf is the preferred source for borrow sediment to closely match the native grain size distribution and composition of the site being restored. However, spatiotemporal variability of continental shelf sediment ranges in size and composition, resulting from previous sea levels and contemporary variability such as normal shelf processes, storm waves, and anthropogenic activities. Understanding the nature and distribution of continental shelf ridge sediment changes over time should reduce costs of efforts required to explore offshore sediments for coastal restoration projects. This review examines the present state of knowledge on the availability, distribution, and characteristics of continental shelf sediment under normal conditions and potential variability after storms and dredging. Under normal conditions sediment on the shelf is easily located and characterized as potential borrow areas. However, storms can induce enough sediment transport to change the boundaries of sediment borrow areas and the location of known sand ridges. Dredging can also influence sediment infilling of the dredged borrow areas, which impact benthic infauna and introduce potential onshore impacts depending on the geometry and nearshore proximity of the excavation. The results of this summary have identified gaps in the present knowledge such as a need for additional sand searches in under-investigated regions, a better understanding of storm impacts on hydrodynamic-driven ridge migration and continuing to review best management practices when new research of dredging practices and impacts are presented. A brief review of the present state of knowledge on the distribution and dynamics of continental shelf sedimentology and morphology are presented here to aid in advancing the scientific and coastal management community’s knowledge of shelf sediments and dynamics as well as highlight potential future research needs.

The study examined Sand Dredged Environment of Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria towards effective monitoring of sand mining mites and post-management techniques. Multi-stage random sampling was used to select nine (9) Local Government Areas and three (3) communities from the selected local Government Areas in Akwa Ibom State. Primary data were collected with structured questionnaires and focus group discussion. The study reveals that post-management guidelines of sand mining environment was not adopted in the study area to the failure in management of the environment in which a larger expanse of agricultural land have been converted to waste land and borrow pit. This work found that acquisition of sand mining permit was grossly ignored among sand miners in some mining communities, whereas other miners who obtained their permit deliberately hired too many dredgers in their allocated sand mining sites and the stakeholders mandated to monitor sand mining sites did not visit the sites and were relatively unaware of the illegal businesses going on in the sand mining sites. Chi-square was used to examine the impact of stakeholders on management of sand mining environment. The result indicated that a value of 204.565 at p<0.05 was obtained and it was concluded that stakeholders in the solid mineral exploration industry should re-direct their interest toward post-management of sand mining environment so as to restore degraded ecosystem for further land use purposes.

Louisiana has successfully utilized the proceeds from the fines imposed for the Deepwater Horizon incident to significantly jump start barrier island restoration as identified in the Coastal Protection and Restoration Authority (CPRA) of Louisiana Coastal Master Plan (CPRA 2017). The Riverine Sand Mining/ Scofield Island Restoration (BA-40) project was the first to be implemented through a commitment of remaining funds in the initial emergency protective berms’ construction budget formulated into the Berms to Barrier Islands plan. The berm/ restoration conversion at Scofield Island was the first to utilize this funding mechanism. The Caminada Headland Beach and Dune Restoration–Increment II (BA-143) project was funded through the National Fish and Wildlife (NFWF) Gulf Environmental Benefit Fund and capitalized on a prior project constructed to the west completing the beach and dune restoration of the entire headland. Lastly, the Caillou Lake Headlands Restoration (TE-100) project was funded through the Natural Resource Damage Assessment (NRDA). The TE-100 project restored the entire degraded beach and dune system backed by a created marsh habitat to complement a prior restoration effort. Scofield Island is located west of the active Mississippi River bird’s foot delta in Plaquemines Parish, Louisiana. A primary objective of this project was the excavation and delivery of Mississippi riverine sand for beach and dune restoration; a first in our nation’s history. Multiple design and construction challenges arose requiring the CPRA, consulting team, and construction contractor to adapt. Construction of the beach and dune component of this project required approximately 22 miles (mi) of pipeline and four booster pumps along a sediment pipeline corridor that crossed two hurricane protection levees, went underneath two highways and a navigation channel, traversed the Empire Waterway, crossed Pelican Island, entered the Gulf of Mexico, and extended to Scofield Island. The restoration footprint length was approximately 2.4 mi, total volume placed was approximately 3.5 million cubic yards (MCY), and the benefit equaled 510 restored acres (CEC 2014). The pipeline corridor has subsequently been utilized for two other restoration projects, Shell Island East Berm Barrier Island Restoration (BA-110) and Shell Island West NRDA Restoration (BA-111). As a first in Louisiana’s restoration history, the Caminada Headland Beach and Dune Restoration–Increments I and II (BA-45 and BA-143) utilized sand dredged from Ship Shoal, an Outer Continental Shelf (OCS) sand resource located approximately 26-38 mi from the restoration areas. The 13.3 mi long headland was restored with approximately 3.7 MCY for BA-45 and 5.5 MCY for BA-143 from the borrow area (CEC 2015 and CEC 2017). A combination of cutterhead dredge/scow barges and hopper dredges were used to construct the project. A key goal of this project was restoring and protecting the fragile ecosystem which provides critical habitat for nesting shorebirds. The headland is of critical importance in serving as a defense of our national energy infrastructure. The western portion of the headland directly protects Port Fourchon, one of the nation’s most important energy ports. Caillou Lake Headlands (TE-100), known locally as Whiskey Island, is centrally located in the Isle Dernieres chain and it is a remnant of the single, larger Isle Dernieres (Last Island), which was segmented into multiple smaller islands by a major hurricane in 1856. The project included restoring the beach and dune along approximately 4.5 mi while simultaneously creating a marsh platform along approximately 5,500 feet (ft) utilizing 10.4 MCY of sand from the borrow area (CEC 2018). The borrow area lies within Ship Shoal OCS Lease Block 88 located over 10 mi along the conveyance corridor offshore of Whiskey Island. This project represents the largest barrier island restoration project to date in terms of volume per linear foot of shoreline with an average density of over 441 cubic yards per linear foot (CEC 2018).

The M. S. Roberts site is located in Henderson County, Texas and it represents one of the few known Caddo mound sites in the upper Neches River Basin in northeast Texas (Figure 1). The site is situated along Caddo Creek – an eastward-flowing tributary of the Neches River (Perttula et al. 2016; Perttula 2016; Perttula and Walters 2016). The site is located southeast of Athens, Texas. When first recorded, the single mound at the site was approximately 24 m long and 20 m wide and roughly 1.7 m in height (Pearce and Jackson 1931). Directly west of the mound was a large depression, which has since been mostly filled, and likely represents the borrow pit for mound fill. The mound is situated at the southern end of an elevated alluvial landform. The site was first reported to Dr. J. E. Pearce of the University of Texas in September 1931. In October of the same year, archaeologists from the University of Texas began investigating the mound and defining the extent of the associated settlement (Pearce and Jackson 1931). Researchers obtained a surface collection from the site and excavated an unknown number of trenches in the mound where portions of at least one burned and buried Caddo structure was identified. Their excavation notes document that the mound began as a 25 cm deposit of yellow sand constructed on the undisturbed brown sandy loam that defines the alluvial landform. A structure had been built on the yellow sand and then at some point had been burned. The burned structure was then covered with mound fill at least a meter in depth. Materials collected from the surface as part of the 1931 investigations indicate the presence of a Caddo habitation area surrounding the mound and suggest the site was occupied from the fourteenth to the early fifteenth centuries (Perttula et al. 2016; Perttula 2016; Perttula and Walters 2016). At that time, the landscape around the mound was a used as a cotton field and subject to extensive plowing. Today, the landscape is part of a residential ranch development where landowners are stewards of the site with a focus on preservation and research. In January 2015, with the permission of the landowners, renewed interested in the site began with a surface collection and the examination of the artifact collections from the 1931 work held by the Texas Archeological Research Laboratory (Perttula et al. 2016; Perttula 2016; Perttula and Walters 2016). A series of shovel tests and auger holes were then dug in the mound and surrounding habitation area in mid-2015. Shovel tests and auger holes documented organically-stained and charcoal-rich areas within the mound that were thought to represent the remains of several burned Caddo structures, and also identified non-mound habitation deposits at the site. An initial aerial survey was also conducted to map the landform topography, estimate the extent of the current mound dimensions and borrow pit, and to reconstruct changes in the shape and size of the mound since it was first recorded in 1931 (Perttula et al. 2016). The survey employed a small Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) to map the roughly 20-acre property surrounding the site at a 2 cm per pixel resolution. The aerial survey of the mound and surrounding landscape and the creation of a high-resolution digital elevation model reveal that the mound dimensions have changed significantly from what was reported in 1931 (Perttula et al. 2016). For example, aerial data document both the mound and borrow pit features and show that the mound measures 43 m North-South and 26 m East-West, and is roughly 1 meter above the surrounding terrace surface (Perttula et al. 2016). The aerial survey demonstrates that the mound has elongated over the last century since it was first recorded, likely related to historic landscape modification. In January 2016, the site was again revisited. The purpose of the fieldwork was to better define the spatial extent of archaeological deposits in the non-mounded habitation area and investigate the stratigraphy of mound deposits, identify cultural features in the mound, and hopefully obtain charred plant remains or unburned animal bones from these deposits for AMS dating. To help evaluate and identify the distribution of cultural features in the mound and the surrounding non-mounded habitation area, an area just over 1 hectare or 2.8 acres was surveyed using magnetic gradient and a second aerial survey was completed to refine the overall landscape topography (Figure 2). The magnetic gradient results document the subsurface location of at least two interpreted structures within the mound, the possible locations of three 1931 UT trenches, and several possible pit features proximate to the mound. The combination of aerial and geophysical data and the excavation results are revising our understanding of the archaeological remains and preservation conditions of the site.

The Boxed Springs Mound site (41UR30) is one of three major Early Caddoan (ca. A.D. 900- t 200) multiple mound centers in the Sabine River basin of northeastern Texas, the others including the Jamestown (41SM54) and Hudnall-Pirtle (41RK4) sites upstream and downstream, respectively, from Boxed Springs. It is situated on a large and prominent upland ridge projection that extends from a bluff on the Sabine River about 500 m north to where the landform merges with a broader stretch of uplands and Bienville alluvium. Sediments on the site are Trep loamy fine sand, a relatively fertile soil. The site is approximately 1.6 km west of the confluence of Big Sandy Creek and the Sabine River, but the old channels, sloughs, and oxbow lakes on both sides of the upland ridge and alluvial terrace suggest that previous channels of the Sabine River as well as Big Sandy Creek ran from north to south immediately adjacent to the site. When the Boxed Springs site was originally recorded by Sam Whiteside, an avocational archeologist from Tyler (see Walters and Haskins, this volume) in the early 1960s, it had four earthen mounds arranged around an open area or central plaza. The four mounds apparently included two low "structural" or house mounds with clay floors at the southeastern and southwestern ends of the plaza (Mounds #2 and #7 on a ca. 1962 sketch by Whiteside), one burial mound about 12 x 8 m in size and 1 m in height at the northwestern plaza edge (Mound #3), and a flat-topped mound of unknown function at the northeastern end of the plaza (Mound #6). There were borrow pits apparently visible to the east of Mound #3 and south of Mound #6, and occupation areas/midden deposits along the uplands at the southern edge of the site as well as north and northwest of Mound #3. Some years ago, while Dr. James E. Bruseth and Dr. Timothy K. Perttula were documenting a large collection of vessels and stone tools from the Boxed Springs site, they became aware of the fact that a cremation burial with associated vessels had been dug at the site. A few years later, the cremated remains from that burial were turned over to Dr. Perttula for study. In this paper, Diane E. Wilson summarizes for the first time the results of her bioarchaeological analyses of the cremated burial. With this information now available, it seemed appropriate to provide an archaeological context--as it was known--on the cremated burial, and also summarize in one place the available information on the archaeological record from the Boxed Springs site. Key to this effort was the fact that Mark Walters provided unpublished information and notes from the 1960s archaeological investigations by Sam Whiteside at the Boxed Springs site. Although it is a major Early Caddoan mound center, the archaeology of the Boxed Springs site is very poorly known. We hope that this paper on a cremated burial from the site, as well as a discussion of previous archaeological investigations at Boxed Springs, will rectify this situation to a certain extent, and also spur renewed professional archaeological interest in this very significant prehistoric Caddoan mound center.

Literature is one of the most creative areas of study. Its width covers disciplines across philosophy, science fiction, mythology, culture, and beyond. Using the hip hop mode of self-praise, this literary essay explores how narrative can engage with scientific subjects. It attempts to portray how creative art or literature has no boundaries when the author intends to harmonize metaphor, narrative, voice, culture, fiction, science, and society. In this regard, it can be said that as the master of the magic in the word, a writer can establish the latitude of any imaginable scenario to limn his/her inner vision of the images perceived in that particular context. In other words, the image of an imaginary world can be presented as an idealistic viewpoint without a real ecospheric landscape where it can exist beyond the author’s imagination, yet it remains an entertaining piece of literary work on which a reader can reflect. To do so, the essay borrows considerably from selected works by Ali Jimale Ahmed and other Somali scholars.

Every crisis at the same time reveals, forewarns and implies changes with cyclical trends that can be analyzed from different disciplinary perspectives, building scenarios to anticipate the future, despite uncertainties and risks. And the current crisis certainly appears as one of the most problematic of the modern era: recently, Luigi Ferrara, Director of the School of Design at the George Brown College in Toronto and of the connected Institute without Boundaries, highlighted how the pandemic has simply accelerated undergoing dynamics, exacerbating other crises – climatic, environmental, social, economic – which had already been going on for a long time both locally and globally. In the most economically developed contexts, from North America to Europe, the Covid emergency has led, for example, to the closure of almost 30% of the retail trade, as well as to the disposal and sale of many churches. Places of care and assistance, such as hospitals and elderly houses, have become places of death and isolation for over a year, or have been closed. At the same time, the pandemic has imposed the revolution of the remote working and education, which was heralded – without much success – more than twenty years ago. In these even contradictory dynamics, Ferrara sees many possibilities: new roles for stronger and more capable public institutions as well as the opportunity to rethink and redesign the built environment and the landscape. Last but not least, against a future that could be configured as dystopian, a unique chance to enable forms of citizenship and communities capable of inhabiting more sustainable, intelligent and ethical cities and territories; and architects capable of designing them. This multifactorial and pervasive crisis seems therefore to impose a deep review of the current unequal development models, in the perspective of that “creative destruction” that Schumpeter placed at the basis of the dynamic entrepreneurial push: «To produce means to combine materials and forces within our reach. To produce other things, or the same things by a different method, means to combine these materials and forces differently» (Schumpeter, 1912). A concept well suiting to the design practice as a response to social needs and improving the living conditions. This is the perspective of Architectural Technology, in its various forms, which has always placed the experimental method at the center of its action. As Eduardo Vittoria already pointed out: «The specific contribution of the technological project to the development of an industrial culture is aimed at balancing the emotional-aesthetic data of the design with the technical-productive data of the industry. Design becomes a place of convergence of ideas and skills related to factuality, based on a multidisciplinary intelligence» (Vittoria, 1999). A lucid and appropriate critique of the many formalistic emphases that have invested contemporary architecture. In the most acute phases of the pandemic, the radical nature of this polycrisis has been repeatedly invoked as a lever for an equally radical modification of the development models, for the definitive defeat of conjunctural and emergency modes of action. With particular reference to the Italian context, however, it seems improper to talk about a “change of models” – whether economic, social, productive or programming, rather than technological innovation – since in the national reality the models and reference systems prove to not to be actually structured. The current socio-economic and productive framework, and the political and planning actions themselves, are rather a variegated and disordered set of consolidated practices, habits often distorted when not deleterious, that correspond to stratified regulatory apparatuses, which are inconsistent and often ineffective. It is even more difficult to talk about programmatic rationality models in the specific sector of construction and built environment transformation, where the enunciation of objectives and the prospection of planning actions rarely achieve adequate projects and certain implementation processes, verified for the consistency of the results obtained and monitored for the ability in maintaining the required performance over time. Rather than “changing the model”, in the Italian case, we should therefore talk about giving shape and implementation to an organic and rational system of multilevel and inter-sectorial governance models, which assumes the principles of subsidiarity, administrative decentralization, inter-institutional and public-private cooperation. But, even in the current situation, with the pandemic not yet over, we are already experiencing a sort of “return to order”: after having envisaged radical changes – new urban models environmentally and climatically more sustainable, residential systems and public spaces more responsive to the pressing needs of social demand, priority actions to redevelop the suburbs and to strength infrastructures and ecosystem services, new advanced forms of decision-making decentralization for the co-planning of urban and territorial transformations, and so on – everything seems to has been reset to zero. This is evident from the list of actions and projects proposed by the National Recovery and Resilience Plan (NRRP), where no clear national strategy for green transition emerges, even though it is repeatedly mentioned. As highlighted by the Coordination of Technical-Scientific Associations for the Environment and Landscape1, and as required by EU guidelines2, this transition requires a paradigm shift that assumes eco-sustainability as a transversal guideline for all actions. With the primary objective of protecting ecosystem balances, improving and enhancing the natural and landscape capital, as well as protecting citizen health and well-being from environmental risks and from those generated by improper anthropization phenomena. The contents of the Plan explicitly emphases the need to «repair the economic and social damage of the pandemic crisis» and to «contribute to addressing the structural weaknesses of the Italian economy», two certainly relevant objectives, the pursuit of which, however, could paradoxically contrast precisely with the transition to a more sustainable development. In the Plan, the green revolution and the ecological transition are resolved in a dedicated axis (waste management, hydrogen, energy efficiency of buildings, without however specific reform guidelines of the broader “energy” sector), while «only one of the projects of the Plan regards directly the theme Biodiversity / Ecosystem / Landscape, and in a completely marginal way» (CATAP, 2021). Actions are also limited for assessing the environmental sustainability of the interventions, except the provision of an ad hoc Commission for the streamlining of some procedural steps and a generic indication of compliance with the DNSH-Do not significant Harm criterion (do not cause any significant damage), without specific guidelines on the evaluation methods. Moreover, little or nothing in the Plan refers on actions and investments in urban renewal, abandoned heritage recovery3, of in protecting and enhancing areas characterized by environmental sensitivity/fragility; situations widely present on the national territory, which are instead the first resource for a structural environmental transition. Finally yet importantly, the well-known inability to manage expenditure and the public administration inefficiencies must be considered: a limit not only to the effective implementation of projects, but also to the control of the relationship between time, costs and quality (also environmental) of the interventions. In many places, the Plan has been talked about as an opportunity for a real “reconstruction”, similar to that of post-war Italy; forgetting that the socio-economic renaissance was driven by the INA-Casa Plan4, but also by a considerable robustness of the cultural approach in the research and experimentation of new housing models (Schiaffonati, 2014)5. A possible “model”, which – appropriately updated in socio-technical and environmental terms – could be a reference for an incisive governmental action aiming at answering to a question – the one of the housing – far from being resolved and still a priority, if not an emergency. The crisis also implies the deployment of new skills, with a review of outdated disciplinary approaches, abandoning all corporate resistances and subcultures that have long prevented the change. A particularly deep fracture in our country, which has implications in research, education and professions, dramatically evident in the disciplines of architectural and urban design. Coherently with the EU Strategic Agenda 2019-2024 and the European Pillar of Social Rights, the action plan presented by the Commission in March 2021, with the commitment of the Declaration of Porto on May 7, sets three main objectives for 2030: an employment rate higher than 78%, the participation of more than 60% of adults in training courses every year and at least 15 million fewer people at risk of social exclusion or poverty6. Education, training and retraining, lifelong learning and employment-oriented skills, placed at the center of EU policy action, now require large investments, to stimulate employment transitions towards the emerging sectors of green, circular and digital economies (environmental design and assessment, risk assessment & management, safety, durability and maintainability, design and management of the life cycle of plans, projects, building systems and components: contents that are completely marginal or absent in the current training offer of Architecture). Departments and PhDs in the Technological Area have actively worked with considerable effectiveness in this field. In these regards, we have to recall the role played by Romano Del Nord «protagonist for commitment and clarity in identifying fundamental strategic lines for the cultural and professional training of architects, in the face of unprecedented changes of the environmental and production context» (Schiaffonati, 2021). Today, on the other hand, the axis of permanent and technical training is almost forgotten by ministerial and university policies for the reorganization of teaching systems, with a lack of strategic visions for bridging the deficit of skills that characterizes the area of architecture on the facing environmental and socio-economic challenges. Also and precisely in the dual perspective of greater interaction with the research systems and with the world of companies and institutions, and of that trans- and multi-disciplinary dimension of knowledge, methods and techniques necessary for the ecological transition of settlement systems and construction sector. Due to the high awareness of the Technological Area about the multifactorial and multi-scale dimension of the crises that recurrently affect our territories, SITdA has been configured since its foundation as a place for scientific and cultural debate on the research and training themes. With a critical approach to the consoling academic attitude looking for a “specific disciplinary” external and extraneous to the social production of goods and services. Finalizing the action of our community to «activate relationships between universities, professions, institutions through the promotion of the technological culture of architecture [...], to offer scientific-cultural resources for the training and qualification of young researchers [...], in collaboration with the national education system in order to advance training in the areas of technology and innovation in architecture» (SITdA Statute, 2007). Goals and topics which seem to be current, which Techne intends to resume and develop in the next issues, and already widely present in this n. 22 dedicated to the Circular Economy. A theme that, as emerges from the contributions, permeates the entire field of action of the project: housing, services, public space, suburbs, infrastructures, production, buildings. All contexts in which technological innovation invests both processes and products: artificial intelligence, robotics and automation, internet of things, 3D printing, sensors, nano and biotechnology, biomaterials, biogenetics and neuroscience feed advanced experiments that cross-fertilize different contributions towards common objectives of circularity and sustainability. In this context, the issue of waste, the superfluous, abandonment and waste, emerge, raising the question of re-purpose: an action that crosses a large panel of cases, due to the presence of a vast heritage of resources – materials, artefacts, spaces and entire territories – to be recovered and re-functionalized, transforming, adapting, reusing, reconverting, reactivating the existing for new purposes and uses, or adapting it to new and changing needs. Therefore, by adopting strategies and techniques of reconversion and reuse, of re-manufacturing and recycling of construction and demolition waste, of design for disassembly that operate along even unprecedented supply chains and which are accompanied by actions to extend the useful life cycle of materials , components and building systems, as well as product service logic also extended to durable goods such as the housing. These are complex perspectives but considerably interesting, feasible through the activation of adequate and updated skills systems, for a necessary and possible future, precisely starting from the ability – as designers, researchers and teachers in the area of Architectural Technology – to read the space and conceive a project within a system of rationalities, albeit limited, but substantially founded, which qualify the interventions through approaches validated in research and experimental verification. Contrarily to any ineffective academicism, which corresponds in fact to a condition of subordination caused by the hegemonic dynamics at the base of the crisis itself, but also by a loss of authority that derives from the inadequate preparation of the architects. An expropriation that legitimizes the worst ignorance in the government of the territories, cities and artifacts. Education in Architecture, strictly connected to the research from which contents and methods derive, has its central pivot in the project didactic: activity by its nature of a practical and experimental type, applied to specific places and contexts, concrete and material, and characterized by considerable complexity, due to the multiplicity of factors involved. This is what differentiates the construction sector, delegated to territorial and urban transformations, from any other sector. A sector that borrows its knowledge from other production processes, importing technologies and materials. With a complex integration of which the project is charged, for the realization of the buildings, along a succession of phases for corresponding to multiple regulatory and procedural constraints. The knowledge and rationalization of these processes are the basis of the evolution of the design and construction production approaches, as well as merely intuitive logics. These aspects were the subject of in-depth study at the SITdA National Conference on “Producing Project” (Reggio Calabria, 2018), and relaunched in a new perspective by the International Conference “The project in the digital age. Technology, Nature, Culture” scheduled in Naples on the 1st-2nd of July 2021. A reflection that Techne intends to further develop through the sharing of knowledge and scientific debate, selecting topics of great importance, to give voice to a new phase and recalling the practice of design research, in connection with the production context, institutions and social demand. “Inside the Polycrisis. The possible necessary” is the theme of the call we launched for n. 23, to plan the future despite the uncertainties and risks, foreshadowing strategies that support a unavoidable change, also by operating within the dynamics that, for better or for worse, will be triggered by the significant resources committed to the implementation of the Recovery Plan. To envisage systematic actions based on the centrality of a rational programming, of environmentally appropriate design at the architectural, urban and territorial scales, and of a continuous monitoring of the implementation processes. With the commitment also to promote, after each release, a public moment of reflection and critical assessment on the research progresses. NOTES 1 “Osservazioni del Coordinamento delle Associazioni Tecnico-scientifiche per l’Ambiente e il Paesaggio al PNRR”, 2021. 2 EU Guidelines, SWD-2021-12 final, 21.1.2021. 3 For instance, we can consider the 7,000 km of dismissed railways, with related buildings and areas. 4 The two seven-year activities of the Plan (1949-1963) promoted by Amintore Fanfani, Minister of Labor and Social Security at the time, represented both an employment and a social maneuver, which left us the important legacy of neighborhoods that still today they have their own precise identity, testimony of the architectural culture of the Italian twentieth century. But also a «grandiose machine for the housing» (Samonà, 1949), based on a clear institutional and organizational reorganization, with the establishment of a single body (articulated in the plan implementation committee, led by Filiberto Guala, with regulatory functions of disbursement of funds, assignment of tasks and supervision, and in the INA-Casa Management directed by the architect Arnaldo Foschini, then dean of the Faculty of Architecture), which led to the construction of two million rooms for over 350,000 families. See Di Biagi F. (2013), Il Contributo italiano alla storia del Pensiero – Tecnica, Enciclopedia Treccani. 5 From Quaderni of the Centro Studi INA-Casa, to Gescal and in the Eighties to the activity of CER. Complex theme investigated by Fabrizio Schiaffonati in Il progetto della residenza sociale, edited by Raffaella Riva. 6 Ferruccio De Bortoli underlines in Corriere della Sera of 15 May 2021: «The revolution of lifelong learning (which) is no less important for Brussels than the digital or green one. By 2030, at least 60 per cent of the active population will have to participate in training courses every year. It will be said: but 2030 is far away. There’s time. No, because most people have escaped that to achieve this goal, by 2025 – that is, in less than four years – 120 million Europeans will ideally return to school. A kind of great educational vaccination campaign. Day after tomorrow».

Introduction There is much to be said about house and home and about our media’s role in defining, enabling, as well as undermining it. […] For we can no longer think about home, any longer than we can live at home, without our media. (Silverstone, “Why Study the Media” 88) For lesbians, inhabiting the queer slant may be a matter of everyday negotiation. This is not about the romance of being off line or the joy of radical politics (though it can be), but rather the everyday work of dealing with the perception of others, with the “straightening devices” and the violence that might follow when such perceptions congeal into social forms. (Ahmed 107) Picture this. Once or twice a week a small, black, portable TV set goes on a journey; down from the lofty heights of the top shelf of the built in storage cupboard into the far corner of the living room. A few hours later, it is being stuffed back into the closet. Not far away across town, another small TV set sits firmly in the corner of a living room. Yet, it remains inanimate for days on end. What do you see? The techno-stories conveyed in this paper are presented through – and anchored to – the idea of the cultural biography of things (Kopytoff 1986), revealing how objects (more specifically media technologies) produce and become part of an articulation of particular and conflicting moral economies of households (Silverstone, “Domesticating Domestication”; Silverstone, Hirsch and Morley, “Information and Communication”; Green). In this context, the concept of the domestication of ICTs has been widely applied in Media Studies during the 1990s and, more recently, been updated to account for the changes in technology, household composition, media regulation, and in fact the dislocation of domesticity itself (Berker, Hartmann, Punie and Ward). Remarkable as these mainstream techno-stories are in their elucidation of contemporary techno-practices, what is still absent is the consideration of how gender and sexuality intersect and are being done through ICT consumption at home, work and during leisure practices in alternative or queer households and families. Do lesbians ‘make’ house and home and in what ways are media and ICTs implicated in the everyday work of queer home-making strategies? As writings on queer subjects and cyberspace have proliferated in recent years, we can now follow a move to contextualize queer virtualities across on and offline experiences, mapping ‘complex geographies of un/belonging’ (Bryson, MacIntosh, Jordan and Lin) and a return to consider online media as part of a bigger ICT package that constitutes our queer everyday life-worlds (Karl). At the same time, fresh perspectives are now being developed with regards to the reconfiguration of domestic values by gay men and lesbians, demonstrating the ongoing processes of probing and negotiation of ‘home’ and the questioning of domesticity itself (Gorman-Murray). By aligning ideas and concepts developed by media theorists in the field of media domestication and consumption as well as (sexual) geographers, this paper makes a contribution towards our understanding of a queer sense of home and domesticity through the technological and more specifically television. It is based on two case studies, part of a larger longitudinal ethnographic study of women-centred households in Brighton, UK. Gill Valentine has identified the home and workplaces as spaces, which are encoded as heterosexual. Sexual identities are being constrained by ‘regulatory regimes’, promoting the normalcy of heterosexuality (4). By recounting the techno-stories of lesbian women, we can re-examine notions of the home as a stable, safe, given entity; the home as a particular feminine sphere as well as the leaky boundaries between public and private. As media and ICTs are also part of a (hetero)sexual economy where they, in their materiality as well as textual significance become markers of sexual difference, we can to a certain extent perceive them as ‘straightening devices’, to borrow a phrase from Sara Ahmed. Here, we will find the articulation of a host of struggles to ‘fight the norms’, but not necessarily ‘step outside the system completely, full-time’ (Ben, personal interview [all the names of the interviewees have been changed to protect their anonymity]). In this sense, the struggle is not only to counter perceived heterosexual home-making and techno-practices, but also to question what kinds of practices to adopt and repeat as ‘fitting in’ mechanism. Significantly, these practices leave neither ‘homonormative’ nor ‘heteronormative’ imaginaries untouched and remind us that: In the case of sexual orientation, it is not simply that we have it. To become straight means that we not only have to turn towards the objects that are given to us by heterosexual culture, but also that we must “turn away” from objects that take us off this line. (Ahmed 21) In this sense then, we are all part of drawing and re-drawing the lines of belonging and un-belonging within the confines of a less than equal power-economy. Locating Dys-Location – Is There a Lesbian in the Home? In his effort to re-situate the perspective of media domestication in the 21st century, David Morley points us to ‘the process of the technologically mediated dislocation of domesticity itself’ (“What’s ‘home’” 22). He argues that ‘under the impact of new technologies and global cultural flows, the home nowadays is not so much a local, particular “self-enclosed” space, but rather, as Zygmunt Bauman puts it, more and more a “phantasmagoric” place, as electronic means of communication allow the radical intrusion of what he calls the “realm of the far” (traditionally, the realm of the strange and potentially troubling) into the “realm of the near” (the traditional “safe space” of ontological security) (23). The juxtaposition of home as a safe, ‘given’ place of ontological security vis a vis the more virtual and mediated realm of the far and potentially intrusive is itself called into question, if we re-consider the concepts of home and (dis)location in the light of lesbian geographies and ‘the production and regulation of heterosexual space’ (Valentine 1). The dislocation of home and domesticity experienced through consumption of (mobile) media technologies has always already been under-written by the potential feeling of dys-location and ‘trouble’ by lesbians on the grounds of sexual orientation. The lesbian experience disrupts the traditionally modern and notably western ideal of home as a safe haven and refuge by making visible the leaky boundaries between private seclusion and public surveillance, as much as it may (re)invest in the production of ideas and ideals of home-making and domesticity. This is illustrated for example by the way in which the heterosexuality of a parental home ‘can inscribe the lesbian body by restricting the performative aspects of a lesbian identity’, which may be subverted by covert acts of resistance (Johnston and Valentine 111; Elwood) as well as by the potentially greater freedoms of lesbian identity within a ‘lesbian home’, which may nevertheless come under scrutiny and ‘surveillance of others, especially close family, friends and neighbours’ (112). Nevertheless, more recently it has also been demonstrated how even overarching structures of familial heteronormativity are opportune to fissures and thereby queered, as Andrew Gorman-Murray illustrates in his study of Australian gay, lesbian and bisexual youth in supportive family homes. So what is, or rather, what can constitute a ‘lesbian home’ and how is it negotiated through everyday techno-practices? In and Out of the Closet – The Straight-Speaking ‘Telly’ As places go, the city of Brighton and Hove in the south-east of England fetches the prize for the highest ratio of LGBT people amongst its population in the UK, sitting at about 15%. In this sense, the home-making stories to which I will refer, of a white, lesbian single mother in her early 40s from a working-class background and a white lesbian/dyke couple in their 30s (from middle-/working-class backgrounds), are already engendered in the sense that Brighton (to them) represented in part a kind of ‘home-coming’ in itself. Helen and Ben, a lesbian butch-femme couple (‘when it takes our fancy’, Helen), had recently bought a terraced 1930s three-bedroom house with a sizeable garden in a soon to be up and coming residential area of Brighton. The neighbours are a mix of elderly, long-standing residents and ‘hetero’ families, or ‘breeders’, as Ben sometimes referred to them. Although they had lived together before, the new house constituted their first purchase together. This was significant especially for Helen, as it made their lives more ‘equal’ in terms of what goes where and the input on the overall interior decoration. Ben had shifted from London to Brighton a few years previously for a ‘quieter life’, but wished to remain connected to a queer community. Helen had made the move to Brighton from Germany – to study and enjoy the queer feel, and never left. Both full-time professionals, Helen worked in the publishing industry and Ben as a social worker. Already considering Brighton their ‘home’ town, the house purchase itself constituted another home-making challenge: as a lesbian/dyke couple on equal footing they were prepared to accept to live in a pre-dominantly straight neighbourhood, as it afforded them more space for money compared to the more visibly gay male living areas in the centre of town. The relative invisibility of queer women (and their neighbourhoods) compared to queer men in Brighton may, as it does elsewhere, be connected to issues of safety (Elwood) as well as the comparative lack of financial capacity (Bell and Valentine). Walking up to this house on the first night of my stay with them, I am struck by just how inconspicuous it appears – one of many in a long street, up a steep hill: ‘Most housing in contemporary western societies is “designed, built, financed and intended for nuclear families”’ (Bell in Bell and Valentine 7). I cannot help but think – more as a reflection on myself than of what I am about to experience – is this it? Is this the ‘domesticated lesbian’? What I see appears ‘familiar’, ‘tamed’, re-tracing the straight lines of heterosexual culture. Helen opens the door and orders me directly into the kitchen. She says ‘Ben is in the living room, watching television… Ben takes great pleasure in watching “You’ve been Framed”’. (Fieldnotes) In this context, it is appropriate to focus on the television and its place within their home-making strategies. Television, in its historical and symbolic significance, could be deemed the technological co-terminus to the ideal nuclear family home. Lynn Spigel has shown through her examination of the cultural history of TV’s formative years in post World War America how television became central to providing representations of family life, but also how the technology itself, as an object, informed material and symbolic transformations within the domestic sphere and beyond. Over the past fifty years as Morley points out, the TV has moved from its fixed place in the living room to become more personalised and encroach on other spaces in house and home and has now, in fact, re-entered the public realm (see airports and shopping malls) where it originated. At present, ‘the home itself can seen as having become … the “last vehicle”, where comfort, safety and stability can happily coexist with the possibility of instantaneous digitalised “flight” to elsewhere – and the instantaneous importation of desired elements of the “elsewhere” into the home’ (Morley, “Media, Modernity” 200). Importantly, as Morley confirms, today’s high-tech discourse is often still framed by a nostalgic vision of ‘family values’. There was only one TV set in Helen and Ben’s house: a black plastic cube with a 16” screen. It was decidedly ‘unglamorous’ as Helen pointed out. During the first round of ‘home-making’ efforts, it had found its way into a corner in the front room, with the sofa and armchair arranged in viewing distance. It was a very ‘traditional’ living room set-up. During my weeklong stay and for some weeks after, it was mostly Ben on her own ‘watching the telly’ in the early evenings ‘vegging out’ after work. Helen, meanwhile, was in the kitchen with the radio on or a CD playing, or in her ‘ICT free’ bedroom, reading. Then, suddenly, the TV had disappeared. During one of our ‘long conversations’ (Silverstone, Hirsch and Morley, “Listening”, 204) it transpired that it was now housed for most of the time on the top shelf of a storage cupboard and only ‘allowed out’ ever so often. As a material object, it had easily found its place as a small, but nevertheless quite central feature in the living room. Imbued with the cultural memory of their parents’ and that of many other living rooms, it was ‘tempting’ and easy for them to ‘accept’ it as part of a setting up home as a couple. Ben explained that they both fell into a habit, an everyday routine, to sit around it. However, settling into their new home with too much ‘ease’, they began to question their techno-practice around the TV. For Helen in particular, the aesthetics of the TV set did not fit in with her plans to re-decorate the house loosely in art deco style, tethered to her femme identity. They did not envisage creating a home that would potentially signal that a family with 2.4 children lives here. ‘The “normality” of [working] 9-5’ (Ben), was sufficient. Establishing a perceived visual difference in their living room, partly by removing the TV set, Helen and Ben aimed to ‘draw a line’ around their home and private sphere vis a vis the rest of the street and, metaphorically speaking, the straight world. The boundaries between the public and private are nevertheless porous, as it is exactly that the public perceptions of a mostly private, domesticated media technology prevent Helen and Ben from feeling entirely comfortable in its presence. It was not only the TV set’s symbolic function as a material object that made them restrict and consciously control the presence of the TV in their home space. One of Helen and Ben’s concerns in this context was that TV, as a broadcast medium, is utterly ‘conservative’ in its content and as such, very much ‘straight speaking’. To paraphrase Helen – you can only read so much between the lines and shout at the telly, it can get tiring. ‘I like watching nature programmes, but they somehow manage even here to make it sound like a hetero narrative’. Ben: ‘yeah – mind the lesbian swans’. The employment of the VCR and renting movies helps them to partly re-dress this perceived imbalance. At the same time, TV’s ‘water-cooler’ effect helps them to stay in tune with what is going on around them and enables them, for example, to participate and intervene in conversations at work. In this sense, watching TV can turn into home-work, which affords a kind of entry ticket to shared life-worlds outside the home and as such can be controlled, but not necessarily abandoned altogether. TV as a ‘straightening device’ may afford the (dis)comfort of a sense of participation in mainstream discourses and the (dis)comfort of serving as a reminder of difference at the same time. ‘It just sits there … apart from Sundays’ – and when the girls come round… Single-parent households are on the rise in the US (Russo Lemor) as well as in the UK. However, the attention given to single-parent families so far focuses pre-dominantly on single mothers and fathers after separation or divorce from a heterosexual marriage (Russo Lemor; Silverstone, “Beneath the Bottom Line”). As (queer) sociologists have began to map the field of ‘families of choice and other life experiments’ (Weeks, Heaphy and Donovan), a more concerted effort to bring together the literatures and to shed more light on the queer techno-practices of alternative families seems necessary. Liz and her young son Tim had moved to Brighton from London. As a lesbian working single mother, she raises Tim pre-dominantly on her own: ‘we are a small family, and that’s fine’. Liz’s home-making narrative is very much driven by her awareness of what she sees as her responsibilities as a mother, a lesbian mother. The move to Brighton was assessed by being able to keep her clients in London (she worked as a self-employed communication and PR person for various London councils) – ‘this is what feeds us’, and the fact that she did not want Tim to go to a ‘badly performing’ school in London. The terraced three-bedroom house she found was in a residential area, not too far from the station and in need of updating and re-decorating. The result of the combined efforts of builders, her dad (‘for some of the DIY’) and herself produced a ‘conventional’ set-up with a living room, a kitchen-diner, a small home-office (for tele-working) and Tim’s and her bedroom. Inconspicuous in its appearance, it was clearly child-oriented with a ‘real jelly bean arch’ in the hallway. The living room is relatively bare, with a big sofa, table and chairs, ‘an ancient stereo-system’ and a ‘battered TV and Video-recorder’ in the corner. ‘We hardly use it’, Liz exclaims. ‘We much rather spend time out and about if there is a chance … quality time, rather than watching TV … or I read him stories in bed. I hate the idea of TV as a baby sitter … I have very deliberately chosen to have Tim and I want to make the most of it’. For Liz, the living room with the TV set in it appears as a kind of gesture to what family homes ‘look like’. As such, the TV and furniture set-up function as a signal and symbol of ‘normality’ in a queer household – perhaps a form of ‘passing’ for visitors and guests. The concern for the welfare of her son in this context is a sign and reflection of a constant negotiation process within a pre-dominantly heterosexual system of cultural symbols and values, which he, of course, is already able to ‘compare’ and evaluate when he is out and about at school or visiting friends in their homes. Unlike in Helen and Ben’s home, the TV is therefore allowed to stay out of the closet. Still, Liz rarely watches TV at all, for reasons not dissimilar to those of Helen and Ben. Apart from this, she shares a lack of spare time with many other single parents. Significantly, the living room and TV do receive a queer ‘make-over’ now and then, when Tim is in bed or with his father on a weekend and ‘the girls’ come over for a drink, chat and video viewing (noticeably, the living room furniture and TV get pushed around and re-arranged to accommodate the crowd). In this sense, Liz, in her home-making practices, carefully manages and performs ‘object relationships’ that allow her and her son to ‘fit in’ as much as to advocate ‘difference’ within the construction of ‘normalcy’. The pressures of this negotiation process are clearly visible. Conclusion – Re-Engendering Home and Techno-Practices As women as much as lesbians, Helen, Ben and Liz are, like so many others, part of a historical and much wider struggle regarding visibility, equality and justice. If this article had been dedicated to gay/queer men and their techno- and home-making sensibilities, it would have read somewhat differently to be sure. Of course, questions of gender and sexual identities would have remained equally paramount, as they always should, enfolding questions of class, race and ethnicity (Pink 2004). The concept and practice of home have a deeply engendered history. Queer practices ‘at home’ are always already tied up with knowledges of gendered practices and spaces. As Morley has observed, ‘space is gendered on a variety of scales … the local is often associated with femininity and seen as the natural basis of home and community, into which an implicitly masculine realm intrudes’ (“Home Territories” 59). As the public and private realms have been gendered masculine and feminine respectively, so have media and ICTs. Although traditional ideas of home and gender relations are beginning to break down and the increasing personalization and mobilization of ICTs blur perceptions of the public and private, certain (idealized, heterosexualized and gendered) images of home, domesticity and family life seem to be recurring in popular discourse as well as mainstream academic writing. As feminist theorists have illustrated the ways in which gender needs to be seen as performative, feminist and queer theorists also ought to work further on finding vocabularies and discourses that capture and highlight diversity, without re-invoking the spectre of the nuclear family (home) itself (Weeks, Heaphy and Donovan). What I found was not the ‘domesticated’ lesbian ‘at home’ in a traditional feminine sphere. Rather, I experienced a complex set of re-negotiations and re-inscriptions of the domestic, of gender and sexual values and identities as well as techno-practices, leaving a trace, a mark on the system no matter how small (Helen: ‘I do wonder what the neighbours make of us’). The pressure and indeed desire to ‘fit in’ is often enormous and therefore affords the re-tracing of certain trodden paths of domesticity and ICT consumption. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to the day when even Liz can put that old telly into the closet as it has lost its meaning as a cultural signifier of a particular kind. References Ahmed, Sara. Queer Phenomenology – Orientations, Objects, Others. Durham and London: Duke UP, 2006. Bell, David, and Gill Valentine. “Introduction: Orientations.” mapping desire. Eds. David Bell and Gill Valentine. London: Routledge, 1995. 1-27. Berker, Thomas, Maren Hartmann, Yves Punie and Katie J. Ward, eds. Domestication of Media and Technology. Maidenhead: Open UP, 2006. Bryson, Mary, Lori MacIntosh, Sharalyn Jordan, Hui-Ling Lin. “Virtually Queer?: Homing Devices, Mobility, and Un/Belongings.” Canadian Journal of Communication 31.3 (2006). Elwood, Sarah A.. “Lesbian Living Spaces: Multiple Meanings of Home.” From Nowhere to Everywhere – Lesbian Geographies. Ed. Gill Valentine. New York and London: Harrington Park Press, 2000. 11-27. 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Citation reference for this article MLA Style Karl, Irmi. "Domesticating the Lesbian?: Queer Strategies and Technologies of Home-Making." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/06-karl.php>. APA Style Karl, I. (Aug. 2007) "Domesticating the Lesbian?: Queer Strategies and Technologies of Home-Making," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/06-karl.php>.

Introduction: Technology EnthusiasmEnthusiasts are people who have a passion, keenness, dedication or zeal for a particular activity or hobby. Today, there are enthusiasts for almost everything, from genealogy, costume dramas, and country houses, to metal detectors, coin collecting, and archaeology. But to be described as an enthusiast is not necessarily a compliment. Historically, the term “enthusiasm” was first used in England in the early seventeenth century to describe “religious or prophetic frenzy among the ancient Greeks” (Hanks, n.p.). This frenzy was ascribed to being possessed by spirits sent not only by God but also the devil. During this period, those who disobeyed the powers that be or claimed to have a message from God were considered to be enthusiasts (McLoughlin).Enthusiasm retained its religious connotations throughout the eighteenth century and was also used at this time to describe “the tendency within the population to be swept by crazes” (Mee 31). However, as part of the “rehabilitation of enthusiasm,” the emerging middle-classes adopted the word to characterise the intensity of Romantic poetry. The language of enthusiasm was then used to describe the “literary ideas of affect” and “a private feeling of religious warmth” (Mee 2 and 34). While the notion of enthusiasm was embraced here in a more optimistic sense, attempts to disassociate enthusiasm from crowd-inciting fanaticism were largely unsuccessful. As such enthusiasm has never quite managed to shake off its pejorative connotations.The 'enthusiasm' discussed in this paper is essentially a personal passion for technology. It forms part of a longer tradition of historical preservation in the United Kingdom and elsewhere in the world. From preserved railways to Victorian pumping stations, people have long been fascinated by the history of technology and engineering; manifesting their enthusiasm through their nostalgic longings and emotional attachment to its enduring material culture. Moreover, enthusiasts have been central to the collection, conservation, and preservation of this particular material record. Technology enthusiasm in this instance is about having a passion for the history and material record of technological development, specifically here industrial archaeology. Despite being a pastime much participated in, technology enthusiasm is relatively under-explored within the academic literature. For the most part, scholarship has tended to focus on the intended users, formal spaces, and official narratives of science and technology (Adas, Latour, Mellström, Oldenziel). In recent years attempts have been made to remedy this imbalance, with researchers from across the social sciences examining the position of hobbyists, tinkerers and amateurs in scientific and technical culture (Ellis and Waterton, Haring, Saarikoski, Takahashi). Work from historians of technology has focussed on the computer enthusiast; for example, Saarikoski’s work on the Finnish personal computer hobby:The definition of the computer enthusiast varies historically. Personal interest, pleasure and entertainment are the most significant factors defining computing as a hobby. Despite this, the hobby may also lead to acquiring useful knowledge, skills or experience of information technology. Most often the activity takes place outside working hours but can still have links to the development of professional expertise or the pursuit of studies. In many cases it takes place in the home environment. On the other hand, it is characteristically social, and the importance of friends, clubs and other communities is greatly emphasised.In common with a number of other studies relating to technical hobbies, for example Takahashi who argues tinkerers were behind the advent of the radio and television receiver, Saarikoski’s work focuses on the role these users played in shaping the technology in question. The enthusiasts encountered in this paper are important here not for their role in shaping the technology, but keeping technological heritage alive. As historian of technology Haring reminds us, “there exist alternative ways of using and relating to technology” (18). Furthermore, the sociological literature on audiences (Abercrombie and Longhurst, Ang), fans (Hills, Jenkins, Lewis, Sandvoss) and subcultures (Hall, Hebdige, Schouten and McAlexander) has also been extended in order to account for the enthusiast. In Abercrombie and Longhurst’s Audiences, the authors locate ‘the enthusiast’ and ‘the fan’ at opposing ends of a continuum of consumption defined by questions of specialisation of interest, social organisation of interest and material productivity. Fans are described as:skilled or competent in different modes of production and consumption; active in their interactions with texts and in their production of new texts; and communal in that they construct different communities based on their links to the programmes they like. (127 emphasis in original) Based on this definition, Abercrombie and Longhurst argue that fans and enthusiasts differ in three ways: (1) enthusiasts’ activities are not based around media images and stars in the way that fans’ activities are; (2) enthusiasts can be hypothesized to be relatively light media users, particularly perhaps broadcast media, though they may be heavy users of the specialist publications which are directed towards the enthusiasm itself; (3) the enthusiasm would appear to be rather more organised than the fan activity. (132) What is striking about this attempt to differentiate between the fan and the enthusiast is that it is based on supposition rather than the actual experience and observation of enthusiasm. It is here that the ethnographic account of enthusiasm presented in this paper and elsewhere, for example works by Dannefer on vintage car culture, Moorhouse on American hot-rodding and Fuller on modified-car culture in Australia, can shed light on the subject. My own ethnographic study of groups with a passion for telecommunications heritage, early British computers and industrial archaeology takes the discussion of “technology enthusiasm” further still. Through in-depth interviews, observation and textual analysis, I have examined in detail the formation of enthusiast societies and their membership, the importance of the material record to enthusiasts (particularly at home) and the enthusiastic practices of collecting and hoarding, as well as the figure of the technology enthusiast in the public space of the museum, namely the Science Museum in London (Geoghegan). In this paper, I explore the culture of enthusiasm for the industrial past through the example of the Greater London Industrial Archaeology Society (GLIAS). Focusing on industrial sites around London, GLIAS meet five or six times a year for field visits, walks and a treasure hunt. The committee maintain a website and produce a quarterly newsletter. The title of my paper, “If you can walk down the street and recognise the difference between cast iron and wrought iron, the world is altogether a better place,” comes from an interview I conducted with the co-founder and present chairman of GLIAS. He was telling me about his fascination with the materials of industrialisation. In fact, he said even concrete is sexy. Some call it a hobby; others call it a disease. But enthusiasm for industrial archaeology is, as several respondents have themselves identified, “as insidious in its side effects as any debilitating germ. It dictates your lifestyle, organises your activity and decides who your friends are” (Frow and Frow 177, Gillespie et al.). Through the figure of the industrial archaeology enthusiast, I discuss in this paper what it means to be enthusiastic. I begin by reflecting on the development of this specialist subject area. I go on to detail the formation of the Society in the late 1960s, before exploring the Society’s fieldwork methods and some of the other activities they now engage in. I raise questions of enthusiast and professional knowledge and practice, as well as consider the future of this particular enthusiasm.Defining Industrial ArchaeologyThe practice of 'industrial archaeology' is much contested. For a long time, enthusiasts and professional archaeologists have debated the meaning and use of the term (Palmer). On the one hand, there are those interested in the history, preservation, and recording of industrial sites. For example the grandfather figures of the subject, namely Kenneth Hudson and Angus Buchanan, who both published widely in the 1960s and 1970s in order to encourage publics to get involved in recording. Many members of GLIAS refer to the books of Hudson Industrial Archaeology: an Introduction and Buchanan Industrial Archaeology in Britain with their fine descriptions and photographs as integral to their early interest in the subject. On the other hand, there are those within the academic discipline of archaeology who consider the study of remains produced by the Industrial Revolution as too modern. Moreover, they find the activities of those calling themselves industrial archaeologists as lacking sufficient attention to the understanding of past human activity to justify the name. As a result, the definition of 'industrial archaeology' is problematic for both enthusiasts and professionals. Even the early advocates of professional industrial archaeology felt uneasy about the subject’s methods and practices. In 1973, Philip Riden (described by one GLIAS member as the angry young man of industrial archaeology), the then president of the Oxford University Archaeology Society, wrote a damning article in Antiquity, calling for the subject to “shed the amateur train drivers and others who are not part of archaeology” (215-216). He decried the “appallingly low standard of some of the work done under the name of ‘industrial archaeology’” (211). He felt that if enthusiasts did not attempt to maintain high technical standards, publish their work in journals or back up their fieldwork with documentary investigation or join their county archaeological societies then there was no value in the efforts of these amateurs. During this period, enthusiasts, academics, and professionals were divided. What was wrong with doing something for the pleasure it provides the participant?Although relations today between the so-called amateur (enthusiast) and professional archaeologies are less potent, some prejudice remains. Describing them as “barrow boys”, some enthusiasts suggest that what was once their much-loved pastime has been “hijacked” by professional archaeologists who, according to one respondent,are desperate to find subjects to get degrees in. So the whole thing has been hijacked by academia as it were. Traditional professional archaeologists in London at least are running head on into things that we have been doing for decades and they still don’t appreciate that this is what we do. A lot of assessments are handed out to professional archaeology teams who don’t necessarily have any knowledge of industrial archaeology. (James, GLIAS committee member)James went on to reveal that GLIAS receives numerous enquiries from professional archaeologists, developers and town planners asking what they know about particular sites across the city. Although the Society has compiled a detailed database covering some areas of London, it is by no means comprehensive. In addition, many active members often record and monitor sites in London for their own personal enjoyment. This leaves many questioning the need to publish their results for the gain of third parties. Canadian sociologist Stebbins discusses this situation in his research on “serious leisure”. He has worked extensively with amateur archaeologists in order to understand their approach to their leisure activity. He argues that amateurs are “neither dabblers who approach the activity with little commitment or seriousness, nor professionals who make a living from that activity” (55). Rather they pursue their chosen leisure activity to professional standards. A point echoed by Fine in his study of the cultures of mushrooming. But this is to get ahead of myself. How did GLIAS begin?GLIAS: The GroupThe 1960s have been described by respondents as a frantic period of “running around like headless chickens.” Enthusiasts of London’s industrial archaeology were witnessing incredible changes to the city’s industrial landscape. Individuals and groups like the Thames Basin Archaeology Observers Group were recording what they could. Dashing around London taking photos to capture London’s industrial legacy before it was lost forever. However the final straw for many, in London at least, was the proposed and subsequent demolition of the “Euston Arch”. The Doric portico at Euston Station was completed in 1838 and stood as a symbol to the glory of railway travel. Despite strong protests from amenity societies, this Victorian symbol of progress was finally pulled down by British Railways in 1962 in order to make way for what enthusiasts have called a “monstrous concrete box”.In response to these changes, GLIAS was founded in 1968 by two engineers and a locomotive driver over afternoon tea in a suburban living room in Woodford, North-East London. They held their first meeting one Sunday afternoon in December at the Science Museum in London and attracted over 130 people. Firing the imagination of potential members with an exhibition of photographs of the industrial landscape taken by Eric de Maré, GLIAS’s first meeting was a success. Bringing together like-minded people who are motivated and enthusiastic about the subject, GLIAS currently has over 600 members in the London area and beyond. This makes it the largest industrial archaeology society in the UK and perhaps Europe. Drawing some of its membership from a series of evening classes hosted by various members of the Society’s committee, GLIAS initially had a quasi-academic approach. Although some preferred the hands-on practical element and were more, as has been described by one respondent, “your free-range enthusiast”. The society has an active committee, produces a newsletter and journal, as well as runs regular events for members. However the Society is not simply about the study of London’s industrial heritage, over time the interest in industrial archaeology has developed for some members into long-term friendships. Sociability is central to organised leisure activities. It underpins and supports the performance of enthusiasm in groups and societies. For Fine, sociability does not always equal friendship, but it is the state from which people might become friends. Some GLIAS members have taken this one step further: there have even been a couple of marriages. Although not the subject of my paper, technical culture is heavily gendered. Industrial archaeology is a rare exception attracting a mixture of male and female participants, usually retired husband and wife teams.Doing Industrial Archaeology: GLIAS’s Method and PracticeIn what has been described as GLIAS’s heyday, namely the 1970s to early 1980s, fieldwork was fundamental to the Society’s activities. The Society’s approach to fieldwork during this period was much the same as the one described by champion of industrial archaeology Arthur Raistrick in 1973:photographing, measuring, describing, and so far as possible documenting buildings, engines, machinery, lines of communication, still or recently in use, providing a satisfactory record for the future before the object may become obsolete or be demolished. (13)In the early years of GLIAS and thanks to the committed efforts of two active Society members, recording parties were organised for extended lunch hours and weekends. The majority of this early fieldwork took place at the St Katherine Docks. The Docks were constructed in the 1820s by Thomas Telford. They became home to the world’s greatest concentration of portable wealth. Here GLIAS members learnt and employed practical (also professional) skills, such as measuring, triangulations and use of a “dumpy level”. For many members this was an incredibly exciting time. It was a chance to gain hands-on experience of industrial archaeology. Having been left derelict for many years, the Docks have since been redeveloped as part of the Docklands regeneration project.At this time the Society was also compiling data for what has become known to members as “The GLIAS Book”. The book was to have separate chapters on the various industrial histories of London with contributions from Society members about specific sites. Sadly the book’s editor died and the project lost impetus. Several years ago, the committee managed to digitise the data collected for the book and began to compile a database. However, the GLIAS database has been beset by problems. Firstly, there are often questions of consistency and coherence. There is a standard datasheet for recording industrial buildings – the Index Record for Industrial Sites. However, the quality of each record is different because of the experience level of the different authors. Some authors are automatically identified as good or expert record keepers. Secondly, getting access to the database in order to upload the information has proved difficult. As one of the respondents put it: “like all computer babies [the creator of the database], is finding it hard to give birth” (Sally, GLIAS member). As we have learnt enthusiasm is integral to movements such as industrial archaeology – public historian Raphael Samuel described them as the “invisible hands” of historical enquiry. Yet, it is this very enthusiasm that has the potential to jeopardise projects such as the GLIAS book. Although active in their recording practices, the GLIAS book saga reflects one of the challenges encountered by enthusiast groups and societies. In common with other researchers studying amenity societies, such as Ellis and Waterton’s work with amateur naturalists, unlike the world of work where people are paid to complete a task and are therefore meant to have a singular sense of purpose, the activities of an enthusiast group like GLIAS rely on the goodwill of their members to volunteer their time, energy and expertise. When this is lost for whatever reason, there is no requirement for any other member to take up that position. As such, levels of commitment vary between enthusiasts and can lead to the aforementioned difficulties, such as disputes between group members, the occasional miscommunication of ideas and an over-enthusiasm for some parts of the task in hand. On top of this, GLIAS and societies like it are confronted with changing health and safety policies and tightened security surrounding industrial sites. This has made the practical side of industrial archaeology increasingly difficult. As GLIAS member Bob explains:For me to go on site now I have to wear site boots and borrow a hard hat and a high visibility jacket. Now we used to do incredibly dangerous things in the seventies and nobody batted an eyelid. You know we were exploring derelict buildings, which you are virtually not allowed in now because the floor might give way. Again the world has changed a lot there. GLIAS: TodayGLIAS members continue to record sites across London. Some members are currently surveying the site chosen as the location of the Olympic Games in London in 2012 – the Lower Lea Valley. They describe their activities at this site as “rescue archaeology”. GLIAS members are working against the clock and some important structures have already been demolished. They only have time to complete a quick flash survey. Armed with the information they collated in previous years, GLIAS is currently in discussions with the developer to orchestrate a detailed recording of the site. It is important to note here that GLIAS members are less interested in campaigning for the preservation of a site or building, they appreciate that sites must change. Instead they want to ensure that large swathes of industrial London are not lost without a trace. Some members regard this as their public duty.Restricted by health and safety mandates and access disputes, GLIAS has had to adapt. The majority of practical recording sessions have given way to guided walks in the summer and public lectures in the winter. Some respondents have identified a difference between those members who call themselves “industrial archaeologists” and those who are just “ordinary members” of GLIAS. The walks are for those with a general interest, not serious members, and the talks are public lectures. Some audience researchers have used Bourdieu’s metaphor of “capital” to describe the experience, knowledge and skill required to be a fan, clubber or enthusiast. For Hills, fan status is built up through the demonstration of cultural capital: “where fans share a common interest while also competing over fan knowledge, access to the object of fandom, and status” (46). A clear membership hierarchy can be seen within GLIAS based on levels of experience, knowledge and practical skill.With a membership of over 600 and rising annually, the Society’s future is secure at present. However some of the more serious members, although retaining their membership, are pursuing their enthusiasm elsewhere: through break-away recording groups in London; active membership of other groups and societies, for example the national Association for Industrial Archaeology; as well as heading off to North Wales in the summer for practical, hands-on industrial archaeology in Snowdonia’s slate quarries – described in the Ffestiniog Railway Journal as the “annual convention of slate nutters.” ConclusionsGLIAS has changed since its foundation in the late 1960s. Its operation has been complicated by questions of health and safety, site access, an ageing membership, and the constant changes to London’s industrial archaeology. Previously rejected by professional industrial archaeology as “limited in skill and resources” (Riden), enthusiasts are now approached by professional archaeologists, developers, planners and even museums that are interested in engaging in knowledge exchange programmes. As a recent report from the British think-tank Demos has argued, enthusiasts or pro-ams – “amateurs who work to professional standards” (Leadbeater and Miller 12) – are integral to future innovation and creativity; for example computer pro-ams developed an operating system to rival Microsoft Windows. As such the specialist knowledge, skill and practice of these communities is of increasing interest to policymakers, practitioners, and business. So, the subject once described as “the ugly offspring of two parents that shouldn’t have been allowed to breed” (Hudson), the so-called “amateur” industrial archaeology offers enthusiasts and professionals alike alternative ways of knowing, seeing and being in the recent and contemporary past.Through the case study of GLIAS, I have described what it means to be enthusiastic about industrial archaeology. I have introduced a culture of collective and individual participation and friendship based on a mutual interest in and emotional attachment to industrial sites. As we have learnt in this paper, enthusiasm is about fun, pleasure and joy. The enthusiastic culture presented here advances themes such as passion in relation to less obvious communities of knowing, skilled practices, material artefacts and spaces of knowledge. Moreover, this paper has been about the affective narratives that are sometimes missing from academic accounts; overlooked for fear of sniggers at the back of a conference hall. Laughter and humour are a large part of what enthusiasm is. Enthusiastic cultures then are about the pleasure and joy experienced in doing things. Enthusiasm is clearly a potent force for active participation. I will leave the last word to GLIAS member John:One meaning of enthusiasm is as a form of possession, madness. Obsession perhaps rather than possession, which I think is entirely true. It is a pejorative term probably. The railway enthusiast. But an awful lot of energy goes into what they do and achieve. Enthusiasm to my mind is an essential ingredient. If you are not a person who can muster enthusiasm, it is very difficult, I think, to get anything out of it. On the basis of the more you put in the more you get out. 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