Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Natural history, gambia”

We present biometrical data assembled from a combined total of 37 complete and partially cleaned skulls and feathered heads for the two putative subspecies of Hooded Vulture Necrosyrtes monachus monachus and N. m. pileatus (which Mundy et al. (1992) credibly argue should be N. m. carunculatus). We report on mostly insignificant variation in measurements taken from across three regions of the Hooded Vulture range. For N. m. pileatus (n = 22) the measurements are assembled from 13 live birds captured, tagged and released in Botswana between 2014-2017, seven museum specimens held in The National Museums of Kenya collected during 1913-1950, and two as described below. We compare with N. m. monachus (n = 14) where we measured eight specimens produced by road traffic accidents in The Gambia 2002-2019 of which seven are cleaned bare skulls and one a feathered study skin. We also measured six feathered heads and three skulls from several different countries in Africa, collected during 1832-1929 (n = 6 monachus, 2 pileatus, and 1 unknown) and held at the Natural History Museum, Tring, UK. Cranial materials for Hooded Vulture are scarce in world museums and the Gambian sample consisting of seven cleaned skulls represents the largest known number for a single country. Different populations across the regions vary considerably in both feeding habits and home ranges. We hypothesised that different foraging ecologies may have led to adaptation in bill morphology. Presented here for the first time are a series of skull morphometrics which test for variation in cranial biometrics and bill morphology from across the range of the Hooded Vulture. The Gambian bird has been DNA sequenced and a planned genetics study of other populations will resolve the long-standing taxonomic debate.

The Afrotropical genera Gamia and Artitropa are only known to feed on species of Dracaena (Asparagaceae), and together with Leona lissa Evans, which may require a new genus, they are the only Afrotropical Hesperiidae that feed on this unusual host genus. We present partial life histories of two species of Gamia, 22 taxa of Artitropa (of at least 12 species, and including several undescribed taxa), and notes on the life history of L. lissa. Based on life history information, Gamia and Artitropa are considered likely to form a monophyletic group, probably most closely related to some of the palm-feeding genera currently placed incertae sedis, but formerly in Evans’ 1937 Ploetzia group of genera. Notes on natural enemies of A. erinnys (Trimen) and A. milleri Evans are included.

Widespread of insecticide resistance amongst the species of the Anopheles gambiae complex continues to threaten vector control in Senegal. In this study, we investigated the presence and evolution of the Ace-1 and Gste2 resistance genes in natural populations of Anopheles gambiae s.l., the main malaria vector in Senegal. Using historical samples collected from ten sentinel health districts, this study focused on three different years (2013, 2017, and 2018) marking the periods of shift between the main public health insecticides families (pyrethroids, carbamates, organophosphates) used in IRS to track back the evolutionary history of the resistance mutations on the Ace-1 and Gste2 loci. The results revealed the presence of four members of the Anopheles gambiae complex, with the predominance of An. arabiensis followed by An. gambiae, An. coluzzii, and An. gambiae–coluzzii hybrids. The Ace-1 mutation was only detected in An. gambiae and An. gambiae–coluzzii hybrids at low frequencies varying between 0.006 and 0.02, while the Gste2 mutation was found in all the species with a frequency ranging between 0.02 and 0.25. The Ace-1 and Gste2 genes were highly diversified with twenty-two and thirty-one different haplotypes, respectively. The neutrality tests on each gene indicated a negative Tajima’s D, suggesting the abundance of rare alleles. The presence and spread of the Ace-1 and Gste2 resistance mutations represent a serious threat to of the effectiveness and the sustainability of IRS-based interventions using carbamates or organophosphates to manage the widespread pyrethroids resistance in Senegal. These data are of the highest importance to support the NMCP for evidence-based vector control interventions selection and targeting.

The article analyzes the preparation and the course of the First expedition to the Strait of Magellan by Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa, one of the most prominent Spanish navigators, scientists and humanists of the 16th century. The interest of the Spanish discoverers in the Strait arouse immediately after Magellan's circumnavigation, but for more than half a century this area remained a frontier zone of Spanish possessions in the south of the American continent. The Drake's raid revived Spanish projects to explore and colonize the Strait. From a remote, undeveloped frontier area, the Strait turned into one of the main sea gates to the “Spanish Lake”, as the Spaniards themselves called the Pacific Ocean. The idea to prepare an expedition belonged to the Viceroy of Peru, Don Francisco de Toledo. He prepared the instructions and chose de Gamboa from among his subordinates as the general of the expedition. All the instructions of the expedition demonstrate the precise elaboration of all the details of the military and scientific research work necessary for the future colonization of the region. Despite the difficulties of the journey, the first expedition to the Strait can be considered de Gamboa's most successful venture. Following the main orders of the instructions, de Gamboa was able to complete the main tasks of the expedition. The paths to the strait were mapped, its Pacific and Atlantic estuaries were explored, its natural and geographical features were determined, contacts were established with the indigenous population, and the place of the future settlement was outlined. However, noticeable exaggerations in the descriptions of the region's natural resources, the mild climate and its dense population will contribute to the failure of the second larger expedition to the Strait.

This study provides an analysis of the occurrence and the spatial and temporal distribution of marine turtle strandings found in the south of the State of Bahia. Data was collected between January 2006 and June 2008. This study covers an area of 220 km of the southern coast of Bahia State (northeastern Brazil), and spatial analyses were made considering data collected in three bases suported by Petrobras-Petróleo Brasileiro S/A distributed in the area. The records were sorted according to month and year, species, age group and sex. A total of 260 stranding were reported: 183 of Chelonia mydas (74.1%), the most frequent species. The highest number of strandings was recorded in Gamboa do Morro Base. Juveniles presented the highest densities, but no differences between adults and small juveniles were detected. Males were more frequently stranded in Gamboa do Morro Base, while females were more frequent in Ilhéus Base. An increase in the number of stranding between 2006 and 2008 was noted; moreover, the months with more records were January, February, March, October and December. The number of stranding events was discontinuously distributed in the study area. This study also demonstrated the usefulness of implement different strategies of recording marine turtle strandings: direct monitoring efforts (patrol) in remote beaches and educational campaigns applied on beaches frequented by tourists. This study demonstrated that, despite spatial nearby, the three bases attend independent biological systems and show different stranding dynamics, thus different conservancy actions should be implemented in order to improve the knowledge on natural history of sea-turtles in the southern coast of Bahia State.

Abstract Estimating recent effective population size is of great importance in characterizing and predicting the evolution of natural populations. Methods based on nucleotide diversity may underestimate current day effective population sizes due to historical bottlenecks, whereas methods that reconstruct demographic history typically only detect long-term variations. However, soft selective sweeps, which leave a fingerprint of mutational history by recurrent mutations on independent haplotype backgrounds, holds promise of an estimate more representative of recent population history. Here, we present a simple and robust method of estimation based only on knowledge of the number of independent recurrent origins and the current frequency of the beneficial allele in a population sample, independent of the strength of selection and age of the mutation. Using a forward-time theoretical framework, we show the mean number of origins is a function of θ=2Nμ and current allele frequency, through a simple equation, and the distribution is approximately Poisson. This estimate is robust to whether mutants preexisted before selection arose and is equally accurate for diploid populations with incomplete dominance. For fast (e.g., seasonal) demographic changes compared with time scale for fixation of the mutant allele, and for moderate peak-to-trough ratios, we show our constant population size estimate can be used to bound the maximum and minimum population size. Applied to the Vgsc gene of Anopheles gambiae, we estimate an effective population size of roughly 6×107, and including seasonal demographic oscillations, a minimum effective population size >3×107, and a maximum <6×109, suggesting a mean ∼109.

This year will see the completion of Max Stafford-Clark's fifth year as Artistic Director of the English Stage Company – and the thirtieth year of that company's tenure of the Royal Court Theatre, where its arrival under George Devine back in 1956 was to prove so seminal for the British theatre. Recently under threat of losing a major portion of its Arts Council grant, the company has had to struggle to maintain its reputation as the natural home for new writing in conditions where its ability to mount regular new productions has been severely curtailed: but in spite of this it has premiered some of the most important new work and writers of the past few years. Tony Dunn, who is senior lecturer in literature and drama at Portsmouth Polytechnic, and was recently appointed editor of Gambit, talked to Max Stafford-Clark about the problems and policy of the company, in the perspective of its past history. Before joining the Court, Max Stafford-Clark directed the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, in its vintage years from 1968, and was a founding member of the Joint Stock Company in 1974.

In what follows I distinguish «postmodern animism» from my preferred term «postmedia animism», which I propose is a better term to express a minor, virtual, contrarian art and media. In the time of planetary trauma, ecological devastation and collapse, this term will serve as a heuristic concept to trace the passage from pandemic, panic, catastrophe and crisis to the series pandemonium, delirium and the carnivalesque. My gambit is to invoke a rebellious and affirmative Yōkai imaginary (妖怪, ghost, phantom, strange apparition) in order to contest passive forms of «transcendental narcissism» or «transcendental miserabilism».This we shall designate s an aesthetics of existence. In particular, I will analyse the relationship between natural disasters and politics within the Japanese imagination through reference to Namazu-e (鯰絵, woodblock prints depicting catfish), and their political effects in the aftermath of the earthquake of October 1855 (安政江戸地震, Ansei Edo Jishin) in the Edo period of Japanese history (FIG 1). My intention is to show that this historic art form, which grew out of trauma, demonstrates a fabulatory, dissensual and political aesthetics of resistance and creativity. It is an imaginary which appears conspicuously absent in our contemporary moment

In Africa, the natural history of SCD is often assumed to be same to the African Diaspora in the US, Jamaica, Europe or Latin America. Yet the environment can be different, including different pathogen exposure, such as malaria. To help better understand this, over 2000 references were identified using the names of all current or past names of African continent countries and the truncated word sickl$, followed by secondary nested and cross reference searches. Six cases series describing causes of death were identified, representing 182 children (Ndugwa, 1973, Athale, 1994, Koko, 1998, Diagne, 2000, Rahimy, 2003, Van-Dunem, 2007). Gender was reported in 172, 73 were female (42%). Age was reported in 118, 52 were < 5 years (44%). Four studies described some impediment to care or arrival for care in extremis in1/4 to over ½ of patients that died. In Uganda, 9/12 (75%) patient died at home. In Gabon 6/23 (26%) patients died within 4 hours of reaching the hospital and 11/23 (48%) within 24 hours. In Benin 2/10 (20%) died of splenic sequestration diagnosed at home; 38/64 (53%) of patients in Mozambique that died, lived outside of the capital. Causes of death were identified in 146 individuals. These included: fever/sepsis: n=59 (40%), including meningitis: n=15 (10%) and pyelonephritis: n=2 (1%); acute anemia: n=43 (29%), including spleen sequestration: n=28 (19%) and aplastic anemia: n=8 (5%); pain: n=22 (15%); acute chest syndrome/pneumonia: n=18 (12%); CNS: n=8 (5%), including stroke: n=4 (3%), seizure/ coma: n=5 (3%); liver disease: n=5 (3%) including hepatitis: n=3 (2%); Other: n=19 (13%) including wasting/ malnutrition: n=7 (5%), heart failure/cardiomyopathy: n=4 (3%), diarrhea and vomiting: n=3 (2%), transfusion reaction: n=2 (1%). Infectious pathogens were identified in 26, including malaria: n=10 (38%), S. pneumoniae: n=3 (12%), Salmonella: n=2 (8%), H. influenza, Klebsiella and Citrobacter: n=1 (4%) each; viral agents were reported in n=8 (31%) including HBV: n=5 (19%), HIV: n=3 (12%). Reported general population hemoglobinopathy surveys after birth revealed the following Relative Risk (RR) of observing individuals with hemoglobin SS compared to Hardy Weinberg expected frequencies (some age cohorts overlap; Tanzania '56, Benin '09, Burkina Faso '70, Central African Republic'75, Gabon'65/'80, Gambia'56, Ghana '56/‘57/'00/'10, Kenya '04/'10, Malawi '72/'00/'04, Mozambique '86, Nigeria '56/'70/'79/'81/'84/'05, Senegal '69, Sierra Leone '56). Age 0-1 years, total n=2112 observed n=22 (1.0%), expected n=16.5 (0.8%), RR=1.3 (95% CI=0.7,2.5), p=0.441. Age 0-6 years, total n=4078; observed n=39 (1.0%); expected n=40.6 (1.0%); RR=1.0 (95% CI=0.6,1.5), p=0.925. Age 5-19 years, total n=1880; observed n= 5 (0.3%); expected n= 24.8 (1.3%); RR=0.2 (95% CI=0.1,0.5); p<0.001. Adults, total n=12814; observed n= 20 (0.2%); expected n= 118.9 (0.9%); RR=0.2 (95% CI=0.1,0.3), p<0.001. Pregnant, total n=5815; observed n= 19 (0.3%); expected n= 78.5 (1.3%), RR=0.2 (95% CI=0.1,0.4), p<0.001. Cohorts of children with SCD are indicated in the table. In summary, access to care, as well as acute anemias are a frequent cause of mortality. Along with viral pathogens and transfusion related deaths this indicates the importance of a safe blood supply. By adulthood, the observed frequency of individuals with SCD is only 1/5 of expected. However, reported clinic cohorts suggest similar if not better survival than in the general population, possibly due to lost to follow up, but also malaria/bacterial infection prevention and nutritional support. Careful prospective studies are needed.TableCohorts of children in Africa with Sickle Cell AnemiaCountryAge median years, (range)Death/TotalnFollow up yearsPatient-yearsDeaths/100 patient-yearsU5M/100 child-yrs♦Uganda, 735 -9, (0-20)12/6282--2.7Senegal, ‘008 (0-22)11/323710331.12.2Senegal, 03330/55612--2.2Benin,032.910/2361.5-6.59831.02.4Kenya,096 (0-13)2/1241.21181.72.7♦: Under five year old mortality 2009 (source: Unicef), divided by 5Prophylactic interventions: Uganda: chloroquine; Senegal: chloroquine (wet season), nets, penicillin prophylaxis <5 yrs, folic acid, parasite treatment & iron supplement as needed; Benin: chloroquine, nets, penicillin prophylaxis, antibiotics for fever, folic acid, nutritional support; Kenya; Proguanil, folic acid, nutritional support, parasite treatment & iron supplement as needed. Disclosures: No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

The present paper is very important in the history of Senegal and African history in general due to several pre-colonial and colonial challenges which the Senegalese went through spanning from 1626 to 1960 at independence from the French colonial hegemony. It identified some 134 French diplomatic agents within 334 years and 18 British agents from 1758 to 1817 due to the profitable slavery and slave trade booming markets cutting across the Atlantic to the New World including other important centre of commercial activities during the period of their exploration, expropriation and exploitation (3Es) ambitions. The areas of the Goree became important transit spots of bundling Africans in the name of slaves with some dumped in the Atlantic Ocean and those survived straight into the American plantains zones under the ownership of the Western European powers with actors coming especially France, Britain, Spain, Portugal, Italy among others. The scrutiny of both specialized sources, documentary and websites sources enable us to use a historical approach thereby bringing out clearly those major European actors who manifested their pre-colonial and colonial ambitions in the name of the countries whose interests overshadowed African development perspectives in spite of several resistance movement organized in search of total liberation in favour of self-determination which was only granted during the second half of the 20th Century. This paper can enable the young generation of Africans to go more deeper into researching what each of the identified Western agents appointed to resident in Senegal did while in office and could facilitate the continuous request for the reparation of pre-colonial and colonial atrocities including looting of African natural resources of that country for their metropolitan development for more than three centuries in the unbearable history of mankind. However, the post-independence challenges of the country owed its seeds from the French presence ..

In the fight against malaria, transmission blocking interventions (TBIs) such as transmission blocking vaccines or drugs, are promising approaches to complement conventional tools. They aim to prevent the infection of vectors and thereby reduce the subsequent exposure of a human population to infectious mosquitoes. The effectiveness of these approaches has been shown to depend on the initial intensity of infection in mosquitoes, often measured as the mean number of oocysts resulting from an infectious blood meal in absence of intervention. In mosquitoes exposed to a high intensity of infection, current TBI candidates are expected to be ineffective at completely blocking infection but will decrease parasite load and therefore, potentially also affect key parameters of vector transmission. The present study investigated the consequences of changes in oocyst intensity on subsequent parasite development and mosquito survival. To address this, we experimentally produced different intensities of infection for Anopheles gambiae females from Burkina Faso by diluting gametocytes from three natural Plasmodium falciparum local isolates and used a newly developed non-destructive method based on the exploitation of mosquito sugar feeding to track parasite and mosquito life history traits throughout sporogonic development. Our results indicate the extrinsic incubation period (EIP) of P. falciparum and mosquito survival did not vary with parasite density but differed significantly between parasite isolates with estimated EIP50 of 16 (95% CI: 15–18), 14 (95% CI: 12–16) and 12 (95% CI: 12–13) days and median longevity of 25 (95% CI: 22–29), 15 (95% CI: 13–15) and 18 (95% CI: 17–19) days for the three isolates respectively. Our results here do not identify unintended consequences of the decrease of parasite loads in mosquitoes on the parasite incubation period or on mosquito survival, two key parameters of vectorial capacity, and hence support the use of transmission blocking strategies to control malaria.

The history of Lithuanian educational idea has not exhaustively covered interaction with nature. The questions about interaction with nature are very unlike and have a complex character. On the other hand, not only individual issues about interaction with nature but also the interaction between nature and particular groups of people and nature and the whole society are relevant. Interaction with nature always has an emotional shade, is individual and can be expressed by the actions and other practical activities. Experience gained in early childhood is an extremely important component for formation of emotional value-based relation with nature. Ethno-pedagogy explains that child sensitiveness and respect for life must be fostered since the early days. The research findings presented in the article indicate that in order to improve education of the young generation, the process of fostering value-based relations and sensual perception of nature should be devoted more attention. The educational process should be also based on personal schoolchildren’s experience of interaction with nature as well as on its reflection, open discussion and problem-based teaching. Very urgent aspect in the interrelations of human and nature appears a study of attitudes to preservation of life. The attention of respondents concentrated on some animals and plants which in the society are received utilitarian or it is stereo-typically negative. A study showed that the attitudes of respondents it influences the factors of sex, age and place of living/residence. Key words: natural science education, interaction with nature, respect for life, attitudes.

This research is motivated by the use of Iler leaves to make motifs using the eco print technique with the help of a mordant and fixator. The purpose of this study was to describe the direction of color, the clarity of the shape of the leaf motif, the color fastness to washing, the effect of mordant tunjung, and whiting on eco print results. This research is experimental research with the research object being primissima cotton material from ecoprints of Iler leaves using mordant tunjung, and whiting. The type of data in this study is primary data with data collection techniques using organoleptic tests with research instruments in the form of questionnaires. Data analysis techniques used frequency percentages and data analysis using the SPSS (Statistical Product And Service Solution) version 29.0. The color direction produced by the Iler leaf ecoprint using mordant tunjung mordant produced a dark brown color towards black, and those using the whiting mordant produced a light brown color towards dark brown. The two types of mordant used in the Iler leaf eco print produce clear leaf motif shapes which are very clear, meaning that the shape of the leaf (leaf tip, leaf edge, and leaf base) and the arrangement of leaf veins (mother bones, branch bones, and leaf veins) are printed very clearly on cotton material. The color fastness to washing of Iler leaf ecoprint results on cotton using tunjung and whiting mordant in the third wash showed a slightly reduced color.Keywords: ecoprint, iler, mordant, color, primissima. AbstrakPenelitian ini dilatarbelakangi oleh pemanfaatan daun Iler untuk membuat motif menggunakan teknik ecoprint dengan bantuan mordan dan fiksator. Tujuan dari penelitian ini adalah untuk mendeskripsikan arah warna, kejelasan bentuk motif daun, ketahanan luntur warna terhadap pencucian dan pengaruh mordan tunjung, dan kapur sirih terhadap hasil ecoprint. Penelitian ini merupakan penelitian eksperimen dengan objek penelitian berupa bahan katun primissima hasil ecoprint daun iler menggunakan mordan tunjung dan kapur sirih. Jenis data dalam penelitian ini yaitu data primer dengan teknik pengumpulan data menggunakan uji organoleptik dengan instrumen penelitian berupa kuesioner. Teknik analisis data menggunakan persentase frekuensi dan analisis data menggunakan program SPSS (Statistical Product And Service Solution) Versi 29.0. Arah warna yang menggunakan mordan tunjung menghasilkan warna coklat tua mengarah ke hitam, serta yang menggunakan mordan kapur sirih menghasilkan warna coklat muda mengarah ke coklat tua. Kedua jenis mordan yang digunakan pada ecoprint daun iler menghasilkan kejelasan bentuk motif daun yang sangat jelas artinya bentuk daun (ujung daun, tepi daun dan pangkal daun) dan susunan tulang daun (ibu tulang, tulang cabang dan urat daun) tercetak sangat jelas pada bahan katun. Ketahanan luntur warna warna terhadap pencucian hasil ecoprint daun iler pada bahan katun menggunakan mordan mordan tunjung dan kapur sirih pada pencucian ketiga terlihat warna sedikit berkurang.Kata Kunci: ecoprint, iler, mordan, primissima. Authors:Adriani : Universitas Negeri PadangChintya Atmajayanti : Universitas Negeri Padang References:Arif, W. F. (2019). Uji Coba Warna Daun Sirih Merah Dengan Teknik Pounding dan Steam. Jurnal Seni Rupa, 7(2), 73-80.Fatihaturahmi, F., & Novrita, S. Z. (2019). Pengaruh Perbedaan Mordan Tawas Dan Kapur Sirih Terhadap Hasil Pencelupan Ekstrak Daun Sawo Menggunakan Bahan Sutera. 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Jurnal Tata Busana, 07(02), 41–47. https://jurnalmahasiswa.unesa.ac.id/index.php/jurnal-tata-busana/article/view/24246.Pandansari, P., Purwanti, R., & Alfianti, D. A. (2022). Analysis of Steaming Ecoprint Techniques on Various Fabrics. Formosa Journal of Social Sciences (FJSS), 1(4), 411-424.Putri, L. A., Adriani, A., & Novrita, S. Z. (2015). Perbedaan Mordanting terhadap Hasil Pencelupan Zat Warna Alam Air Limbah Penirisan Getah Gambir pada Sutera Menggunakan Mordan Tunjung (Feso4). Journal of Home Economics and Tourism, 9(2).Ridwan, Y., Satrija, F., Darusman, L. K., & Handharyani, F. (2010). Efektivitas Anticestoda Ekstrak Daun Miana (Coleus Blumei Bent) Terhadap Cacing Hymenolepis Microstoma Pada Mencit. Media Peternakan, 33(1), 6-10.Salimi, Y. K. (2021). Daun Miana Sebagai Antioksidan dan Anti Kanker. Banten: YPSIM.Saputri, A., & Novrita, S. Z. (2021). Perbedaan Berat Mordan Tunjung, Tawas dan Kapur Sirih terhadap Hasil Pencelupan Kulit Buah Alpukat Pada Bahan Katun. Jurnal Pendidikan, Busana, Seni dan Teknologi, 3(2), 80-90.Saraswati, R. (2019). Pemanfaatan Daun untuk Ecoprint dalam Menunjang Pariwisata. Depok: Departemen Geografi FMIPAUI.Simanungkalit, Y. S., & Syamwil, R. (2020). Teknik Ecoprint Dengan Memanfaatkan Limbah Mawar (Rosa Sp.) Pada Kain Katun. Fashion and Fashion Education Journal, 9(2), 90-98.Suci, P. H. (2019). Pelatihan Pembuatan Motif Kain Dengan Metode Ecoprint Di Nagari Tabek Panjang Kecamatan Baso Kabupaten Agam. Journal Of Community Service, 1(1), 200-207.Tjitrosoepomo, G. (2020). Morfologi Tumbuhan. Yogyakarta: Gadjah Mada University Press.Yuled, U. R., & Adriani, A. (2021). Perbedaan Mordan Tunjung Dan Baking Soda Terhadap Hasil Pencelupan Pada Bahan Katun Dengan Menggunakan Ekstrak Kunyit (Curcuma Longa). Jurnal Pendidikan, Busana, Seni dan Teknologi, 3(2), 97-103.Zulikah, K., & Adriani, A. (2019). Perbedaan Teknik Mordanting terhadap Hasil Pencelupan Bahan Katun Primisima Menggunakan Warna Alam Ekstrak Daun Lamtoro (Leucaena Leucocephala) dengan Mordan Kapur Sirih. Gorga: Jurnal Seni Rupa, 8(1), 209-213. https://doi.org/10.24114/gr.v8i1.13179.Zulkifli, S. A. (2013). Memilih dan Memelihara Bahan Tekstil. Jakarta: Pusat Kurikulum dan Perbukuan.

Flooding is a significant environmental problem, projected to intensify from 2010 to 2030. This natural disaster has affected several regions globally, leading to loss of life and property, community disruption, economic loss, injuries, and deaths. Factors contributing to flooding include heavy rainfall, rising sea levels, lowlands, waterways, climatic variations, wetlands, soil types, and unplanned urban settlements. The most severe case in the history of the Gambia struck in 2022. Therefore, this study aimed to identify areas vulnerable to flooding and the effect on agricultural land in the Gambia, as well as suggest preventive measures. The method adopted included the collection of secondary data from Landsat ETM imagery, Digital Elevation Model, rainfall data, Copernicus Global Land Services (CGLS), and Food Agricultural Organisation soil maps. The satellite imageries were processed and classified using ArcGIS 10.7.1, generating land use and land cover, slope, drainage density, rainfall, and soil maps. ArcGIS, combined with the Analytic Hierarchy Process (AHP), was used to integrate these maps to produce a vulnerability map for the study. The results showed areas with very high, high, moderate, low, and very low vulnerability. Based on the classification, coastal and lowland regions were in the high category. Therefore, this study recommended the construction of water barricades in vulnerable coastal areas to mitigate the disaster.

Abstract I examine three arguments that purport to show that connectionist, associationist architectures cannot achieve key features of human thought. Hume anticipated each of these three arguments and provided a unified strategy for responding to each, the “externalist gambit”. On this account, external natural language provides the necessary structure for associationist systems to achieve those features of thought that their opponents take them to lack. The externalist gambit provides a promising avenue for today’s defenders of connectionism about the human mind.

Abstract Background There is evidence that the knockdown resistance gene (Kdr) L1014F and acetylcholinesterase-1 gene (Ace-1R) G119S mutations involved in pyrethroid and carbamate resistance in Anopheles gambiae influence malaria transmission in sub-Saharan Africa. This is likely due to changes in the behaviour, life history and vector competence and capacity of An. gambiae. In the present study, performed as part of a two-arm cluster randomized controlled trial evaluating the impact of household screening plus a novel insecticide delivery system (In2Care Eave Tubes), we investigated the distribution of insecticide target site mutations and their association with infection status in wild An. gambiae sensu lato (s.l.) populations. Methods Mosquitoes were captured in 40 villages around Bouaké by human landing catch from May 2017 to April 2019. Randomly selected samples of An. gambiae s.l. that were infected or not infected with Plasmodium sp. were identified to species and then genotyped for Kdr L1014F and Ace-1R G119S mutations using quantitative polymerase chain reaction assays. The frequencies of the two alleles were compared between Anopheles coluzzii and Anopheles gambiae and then between infected and uninfected groups for each species. Results The presence of An. gambiae (49%) and An. coluzzii (51%) was confirmed in Bouaké. Individuals of both species infected with Plasmodium parasites were found. Over the study period, the average frequency of the Kdr L1014F and Ace-1R G119S mutations did not vary significantly between study arms. However, the frequencies of the Kdr L1014F and Ace-1R G119S resistance alleles were significantly higher in An. gambiae than in An. coluzzii [odds ratio (95% confidence interval): 59.64 (30.81–131.63) for Kdr, and 2.79 (2.17–3.60) for Ace-1R]. For both species, there were no significant differences in Kdr L1014F or Ace-1R G119S genotypic and allelic frequency distributions between infected and uninfected specimens (P > 0.05). Conclusions Either alone or in combination, Kdr L1014F and Ace-1R G119S showed no significant association with Plasmodium infection in wild An. gambiae and An. coluzzii, demonstrating the similar competence of these species for Plasmodium transmission in Bouaké. Additional factors including behavioural and environmental ones that influence vector competence in natural populations, and those other than allele measurements (metabolic resistance factors) that contribute to resistance, should be considered when establishing the existence of a link between insecticide resistance and vector competence. Graphical Abstract

Abstract The directional selection for insecticide resistance due to indiscriminate use of insecticides in public health and agricultural system favors an increase in the frequency of insecticide-resistant alleles in the natural populations. Similarly, removal of selection pressure generally leads to decay in resistance. Past investigations on the emergence of insecticide resistance in mosquitoes mostly relied on field survey of resistance in vector populations that typically had a complex history of exposure to various public health and agricultural pest control insecticides in nature, and thus the effect of specific insecticides on rate of resistance emergency or resistance decay rate is not known. This study examined the phenotypic, genotypic, and biochemical changes that had occurred during the process of selection for pyrethroid resistance in Anopheles gambiae, the most important malaria vector in Africa. In parallel, we also examined these changes in resistant populations when there is no selection pressure applied. Through repeated deltamethrin selection in adult mosquitoes from a field population collected in western Kenya for 12 generations, we obtained three independent and highly pyrethroid-resistant An. gambiae populations. Three susceptible populations from the same parental population were generated by removing selection pressure. These two lines of mosquito populations differed significantly in monooxygenase and beta-esterase activities, but not in Vgsc gene mutation frequency, suggesting metabolic detoxification mechanism plays a major role in generating moderate-intensity resistance or high-intensity resistance. Pre-exposure to the synergist piperonyl butoxide restored the susceptibility to insecticide among the highly resistant mosquitoes, confirming the role of monooxygenases in pyrethroid resistance. The rate of resistance decay to become fully susceptible from moderate-intensity resistance took 15 generations, supporting at least 2-years interval is needed when the rotational use of insecticides with different modes of action is considered for resistance management.

IntroductionUtopian and forward looking in tenor, official narratives of urban renewal and development implicitly promote normative ideals of progress and necessary civic improvement. Yet an underlying condition of such renewal is frequently the very opposite of building: the demolition of existing urban fabric. Taking as its starting point the large-scale demolition of buildings proposed for the NSW Government’s Sydney Metro rail project, this article interrogates the role of literary treatments of demolition in mediating complex, and often contradictory, responses to transformations of the built environment. Case studies are drawn from literary texts in which demolition and infrastructure development are key preoccupations, notably Louis Aragon’s 1926 Surrealist document of a threatened Parisian arcade, Paris Peasant, and the non-fiction accounts of the redevelopment of London’s East End by British writer Iain Sinclair. Sydney UnbuiltPresently, Australia’s biggest public transport project according to the NSW Government website, the Sydney Metro is set to revolutionise Sydney’s rail future with more than 30 metro stations and a fleet of fully-automated driverless trains. Its impetus extends at least as far back as the Liberal-National Coalition’s landslide win at the 2011 New South Wales state election when Barry O’Farrell, then party leader, declared “NSW has to be rebuilt” (qtd in Aston). Infrastructure upgrades became one of the Coalition’s key priorities upon forming government. Following a second Coalition win at the 2015 election, the state of NSW, or the city of Sydney more accurately, remains today deep amidst widespread building works with an unprecedented number of infrastructure, development and urban renewal projects simultaneously underway.From an historical perspective, Sydney is certainly no stranger to demolition. This was in evidence in Demolished Sydney, an exhibition at the Museum of Sydney that captured the zeitgeist of 2016 with its historical survey of Sydney’s demolished architecture. As the exhibition media release pointed out: “Since 1788 Sydney has been built, unbuilt and rebuilt as it has grown from Georgian town to Victorian city to the global urban centre it is today” (Museum of Sydney). What this evolutionist narrative glosses over, however, is the extent to which the impact of Sydney’s significant reinventions of itself through large-scale redevelopment are often not properly registered until well after such changes have taken place. With the imminent commencement of Sydney Metro Stage 2 CBD works, the city similarly stands to lose a number of buildings that embody the civic urban ideals of an earlier era, the effects of which are unlikely to be fully appreciated until the project’s post-demolition phase. The revelation, over the past year, of the full extent of demolition required to build Sydney Metro casts a spotlight on the project and raises questions about its likely impact in reconfiguring the character of Sydney’s inner city. An Environmental Impact Statement Summary (EISS) released by the NSW Government in May 2016 confirms that 79 buildings in the CBD and surrounding suburbs are slated for demolition as part of station development plans for the Stage 2 Chatswood to Sydenham line (Transport for NSW). Initial assurances were that the large majority of acquisitions would be commercial buildings. Yet, the mix also comprises some locally-heritage listed structures including, most notably, 7 Elizabeth Street Sydney (Image 1), a residential apartment tower of 54 studio flats located at the top end of the Sydney central business district.Image 1: 7 Elizabeth Street Sydney apartment towers (middle). Architect: Emil Sodersten. Image credit: Ella Mudie.As the sole surviving block of CBD flats constructed during the 1930s, 7 Elizabeth Street had been identified by the Australian Institute of Architects as an example of historically significant twentieth-century residential architecture. Furthermore, the modernist block is aesthetically significant as the work of prominent Art Deco architect Emil Sodersten (1899-1961) and interior designer Marion Hall Best (1905-1988). Disregarding recommendations that the building should be retained and conserved, Transport for NSW compulsorily acquired the block, evicting residents in late 2016 from one of the few remaining sources of affordable housing in the inner-city. Meanwhile, a few blocks down at 302 Pitt Street the more than century-old Druids House (Image 2) is also set to be demolished for the Metro development. Prior to purchase by Transport for NSW, the property had been slated for a state-of-the-art adaptive reuse as a boutique hotel which would have preserved the building’s façade and windows. In North Sydney, a locally heritage listed shopfront at 187 Miller Street, one of the few examples of the Victorian Italianate style remaining on the street, faces a similar fate. Image 2. Druids House, 302 Pitt Street Sydney. Image credit: Ella Mudie.Beyond the bureaucratic accounting of the numbers and locations of demolitions outlined in the NSW Government’s EISS, this survey of disappearing structures highlights to what extent, large-scale transport infrastructure projects like Sydney Metro, can reshape what the Situationists termed the “psychogeography” of a city; the critical manner in which places and environments affect our emotions and behaviour. With their tendency to erase traces of the city’s past and to smooth over its textures, those variegations in the urban fabric that emerge from the interrelationship of the built environment with the lived experience of a space, the changes wrought by infrastructure and development thus manifest a certain anguish of urban dynamism that is connected to broader anxieties over modernity’s “speed of change and the ever-changing horizons of time and space” (Huyssen 23). Indeed, just as startling as the disappearance of older and more idiosyncratic structures is the demolition of newer building stock which, in the case of Sydney Metro, includes the slated demolition of a well-maintained 22-storey commercial office tower at 39 Martin Place (Image 3). Completed in just 1972, the fact that the lifespan of this tower will amount to less than fifty years points to the rapid obsolescence, and sheer disposability, of commercial building stock in the twenty first-century. It is also indicative of the drive towards destruction that operates within the project of modernism itself. Pondering the relationship of modernist architecture to time, Guiliana Bruno asks: can we really speak of a modernist ruin? Unlike the porous, permeable stone of ancient building, the material of modernism does not ‘ruin.’ Concrete does not decay. It does not slowly erode and corrode, fade out or fade away. It cannot monumentally disintegrate. In some way, modernist architecture does not absorb the passing of time. Adverse to deterioration, it does not age easily, gracefully or elegantly. (80)In its resistance to organic ruination, Bruno’s comment thus implies it is demolition that will be the fate of the large majority of the urban building stock of the twentieth century and beyond. In this way, Sydney Metro is symptomatic of far broader cycles of replenishment and renewal at play in cities around the world, bringing to the fore timely questions about demolition and modernity, the conflict between economic development and the civic good, and social justice concerns over the public’s right to the city. Image 3: 39 Martin Place Sydney. Image credit: Ella Mudie.In the second part of this article, I turn to literary treatments of demolition in order to consider what role the writer might play in giving expression to some of the conflicts and tensions, as exemplified by Sydney Metro, that manifest in ‘unbuilding’ the city. How might literature, I ask, be uniquely placed to mobilise critique? And to what extent does the writer—as both a detached observer and engaged participant in the city—occupy an ambivalent stance especially sensitive to the inherent contradictions and paradoxes of the built environment’s relationship to modernity?Iain Sinclair: Calling Time on the Grand Projects For more than two decades, British author Iain Sinclair has been mapping the shifting terrain of London and its edgelands across a spectrum of experimental fiction and non-fiction works. In addition to the thematic attention paid to neoliberal capitalist processes of urban renewal and their tendency to implode established ties between place, memory and identity, Sinclair’s hybrid documentary-novels are especially pertinent to the analysis of “writing demolition” for their distinct writerly approach. Two recent texts, Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project (2011) and London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line (2015), highlight an intensification of interest on Sinclair’s part in the growing influence exerted by global finance, hyper consumerism and security fears on the reterritorialisation of the English capital. Written in the lead up to the 2012 London Olympics, Ghost Milk is Sinclair’s scathing indictment of the corporate greed that fuelled the large-scale redevelopment of Stratford and its surrounds ahead of the Games. It is an angry and vocal response to urban transformation, a sustained polemic intensified by the author’s local perspective. A long-term resident of East London, in the 1970s Sinclair worked as a labourer at Chobham Farm and thus feels a personal assault in how Stratford “abdicated its fixed identity and willingly prostituted itself as a backdrop for experimental malls, rail hubs and computer generated Olympic parks” (28). For Sinclair, the bulldozing of the Stratford and Hackney boroughs was performed in the name of a so-called civic legacy beyond the Olympic spectacle that failed to culminate in anything more than a “long march towards a theme park without a theme” (11), a site emblematic of the bland shopping mall architecture of what Sinclair derisorily terms “the GP [Grand Project] era” (125).As a literary treatment of demolition Ghost Milk is particularly concerned with the compromised role of language in urban planning rhetoric. The redevelopment required for the Olympics is backed by a “fraudulent narrative” (99), says Sinclair, a conspiratorial co-optation of language made to bend in the service of urban gentrification. “In many ways,” he writes, “the essential literature of the GP era is the proposal, the bullet-point pitch, the perversion of natural language into weasel forms of not-saying” (125). This impoverishment and simplification of language, Sinclair argues, weakens the critical thinking required to recognise the propagandising tendencies underlying so many urban renewal programs.The author’s vocal admonishment of the London Olympics did not go unnoticed. In 2008 a reading from his forthcoming book Hackney, That Rose-Red Empire (2009), at a local library was cancelled out of fear of providing a public platform for his negative views. In Ghost Milk Sinclair reflects upon the treatment of his not yet published docu-novel as “found guilty, with no right of reply, of being political but somehow outside politics” (115). Confronted with the type of large-scale change that underpins such projects as the Olympic Games, or the Sydney Metro closer to home, Sinclair’s predicament points to the ambiguous position of influence occupied by writers. On the one hand, influence is limited in so far as authors play no formal part in the political process. Yet, when outspoken critique resonates words can become suddenly powerful, radically undermining the authority of slick environmental impact statements and sanctioned public consultation findings. In a more poetic sense, Sinclair’s texts are further influential for the way in which they offer a subjective mythologising of the city as a counterpoint to the banal narratives of bureaucratised urbanism. This is especially apparent in London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line (2015), in which Sinclair recounts a single-day street-level pedestrian exploration of the 35-mile and 33-station circuit of the new London Overground railway line. Surveying with disapproval the “new bridges, artisan bakeries, blue-bike racks and coffee shops” (20) that have sprung up along the route of the elevated railway, the initial gambit of the text appears to be to critique the London Overground as a “device for boosting property values” (23). Rail zone as “generator for investment” (31), and driver of the political emasculation of suburbs like Hackney and Shoreditch. Yet as the text develops the narrator appears increasingly drawn to the curious manner in which the Overground line performs an “accidental re-mapping of London” (24). He drifts, then, in search of: a site in which to confront one’s shadow. In a degraded form, this was the ambition behind our orbital tramp. To be attentive to the voices; to walk beside our shadow selves. To reverse the polarity of incomprehensible public schemes, the secret motors of capital defended and promoted by professionally mendacious politicians capable of justifying anything. (London Overground 127)Summoning the oneiric qualities of the railway and its inclination to dreaming and reverie, Sinclair reimagines it as divine oracle, a “ladder of initiation” (47) bisecting resonant zones animated by traces of the visionary artists and novelists whose sensitivity to place have shaped the perception of the London boroughs in the urban imaginary. It is in this manner that Sinclair’s walks generate “an oppositional perspective against the grand projects of centralized planning and management of space” (Weston 261). In a kind of poetic re-enchantment of urban space, texts like Ghost Milk and London Overground shatter the thin veneer of present-day capitalist urbanism challenging the reader to conceive of alternative visions of the city as heterogeneous and imbued with deep historical time.Louis Aragon: Demolition and ModernityWhile London Overground was composed after the construction of the new railway circuit, the pre-demolition phase of a project is, by comparison, a threshold moment. Literary responses to impending demolition are thus shaped in an unstable context as the landscape of a city becomes subject to unpredictable changes that can unfold at a very swift pace. Declan Tan suggests that the writing of Ghost Milk in the lead up to the London Olympics marks Sinclair’s disapproval as “futile, Ghost Milk is knowingly written as a documentary of near-history, an archival treatment of 2012 now, before it happens.” Yet, paradoxically it is the very futility of Sinclair’s project that intensifies the urgency to record, sharpening his polemic. This notion of writing a “documentary of near-history” also suggests a certain breach in time, which in the case of Louis Aragon’s Paris Peasant is mined for its revolutionary energies.First published in book form in 1926, Paris Peasant is an experimental Surrealist novel comprising four collage-like fragments including Aragon’s famous panegyric on the Passage de l’Opéra, a nineteenth-century Parisian arcade slated for demolition to make way for a new access road to the Boulevard Haussmann. Reading the text in the present era of Sydney Metro works, the predicament of the disappearing Opera Arcade resonates with the fate of the threatened Art Deco tower at 7 Elizabeth Street, soon to be razed to build a new metro station. Critical of the media’s overall neglect of the redevelopment, Aragon’s text pays sympathetic attention to the plight of the arcade’s business owners, railing against the injustices of their imminent eviction whilst mourning the disappearance of one of the last vestiges of the more organic configuration of the city that preceded the Haussmann renovation of Paris:the great American passion for city planning, imported into Paris by a prefect of police during the Second Empire and now being applied to the task of redrawing the map of our capital in straight lines, will soon spell the doom of these human aquariums. (Aragon 14)In light of these concerns it is tempting to cast Paris Peasant as a classic anti-development polemic. However, closer interrogation of the narrator’s ambivalent stance points to a more complicated attitude towards urban renewal. For, as he casts a forensic eye across the arcade’s shops it becomes apparent that these threatened sites hold a certain lure of attraction for the Surrealist author. The explanatory genre of the guide-book is subverted in a highly imaginative inventory of the arcade interiors. Touring its baths, brothels and hair salon, shoe shine parlour, run-down theatre, and the Café Certa—meeting place of the Surrealists—the narrator’s perambulation provides a launching point for intoxicated reveries and effervescent flights of fancy. Finally, the narrator concedes: “I would never have thought of myself as an observer. I like to let the winds and the rain blow through me: chance is my only experience, hazard my sole experiment” (88). Neither a journalist nor an historian, Paris Peasant’s narrator is not concerned merely to document the Opera Arcade for posterity. Rather, his interest in the site resides in its liminal state. On the cusp of being transformed into something else, the ontological instability of the arcade provides a dramatic illustration of the myth of architecture’s permanency. Aragon’s novel is concerned then, Abigail Susik notes, with the “insatiable momentum of progress,” and how it “renders all the more visible what could be called the radical remainders of modernity: the recently ruined, lately depleted, presently-passé entities that, for better and for worse, multiply and accumulate in the wake of accelerated production and consumption in industrial society” (34). Drawing comparison with Walter Benjamin’s sprawling Arcades Project, a kaleidoscopic critique of commodity culture, Paris Vaclav similarly characterises Paris Peasant as manifesting a distinct form of “political affect: one of melancholy for the destruction of the arcades yet also of a decidedly non-conservative devotion to aesthetic innovation” (24).Sensitive to the contradictory nature of progress under late capitalist modernity, Paris Peasant thus recognises destruction as an underlying condition of change and innovation as was typical of avant-garde texts of the early twentieth century. Yet Aragon resists fatalism in his simultaneous alertness to the radical potential of the marvellous in the everyday, searching for the fault lines in ordinary reality beneath which poetic re-enchantment challenges the status quo of modern life. In this way, Aragon’s experimental novel sketches the textures and psychogeographies of the city, tracing its detours and shifts in ambience, the relationship of architecture to dreams, memory and fantasy; those composite layers of a city that official documents and masterplans rarely ascribe value to and which literary authors are uniquely placed to capture in their writings on cities. ConclusionUnable to respond within the swift publication timeframes of journalistic articles, the novelist is admittedly not well-placed to halt the demolition of buildings. In this article, I have sought to argue that the power and agency of the literary response resides, rather, in its long view and the subjective perspective of the author. At the time of writing, Sydney Metro is poised to involve a scale of demolition that has not been seen in Sydney for several decades and which will transform the city in a manner that, to date, has largely passed uncritiqued. The works of Iain Sinclair and Louis Aragon’s Paris Peasant point to the capacity of literary texts to deconstruct those broader forces that increasingly reshape the city without proper consideration; exposing the seductive ideology of urban renewal and the false promises of grand projects that transform multifaceted cityscapes into homogenous non-places. The literary text thus makes visible what is easily missed in the experience of everyday life, forcing us to consider the losses that haunt every gain in the building and rebuilding of the city.ReferencesAragon, Louis. Paris Peasant. Trans. Simon Taylor Watson. Boston: Exact Change, 1994. Aston, Heath. “We’ll Govern for All.” Sydney Morning Herald 27 Mar. 2011. 23 Feb. 2017 <http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/state-election-2011/well-govern-for-all-20110326-1cbbf.html>. Bruno, Guiliana. “Modernist Ruins, Filmic Archaeologies.” Ruins. Ed. Brian Dillon. London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2011. 76-81.Huyssen, Andreas. Present Pasts: Urban Palimpsests and the Politics of Memory. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2003.Museum of Sydney. Demolished Sydney Media Release. Sydney: Sydney Living Museums 20 Oct. 2016. 25 Feb. 2017 <http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/2016/12/05/new-exhibition-demolished-sydney>.Paris, Vaclav. “Uncreative Influence: Louis Aragon’s Paysan de Paris and Walter Benjamin’s Passagen-Werk.” Journal of Modern Literature 37.1 (Autumn 2013): 21-39.Sinclair, Iain. Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project. London: Penguin, 2012. ———. Hackney, That Rose Red Empire. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2009.———. London Overground: A Day’s Walk around the Ginger Line. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2015.Susik, Abigail. “Paris 1924: Aragon, Le Corbusier, and the Question of the Outmoded.” Wreck: Graduate Journal of Art History, Visual Art, and Theory 2.2 (2008): 29-44.Tan, Declan. “Review of Ghost Milk: Calling Time on the Grand Project by Iain Sinclair.” Huffington Post 15 Dec. 2011; updated 14 Feb. 2012. 21 Feb 2017 <http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/declan-tan/ghost-milk-ian-sinclair-review_b_1145692.html>. Transport for NSW, Chatswood to Sydenham: Environmental Impact Statement Summary. 25 Mar. 2017 <http://www.sydneymetro.info>. Sydney: NSW Government, May-June 2016.Weston, David. “Against the Grand Project: Iain Sinclair’s Local London.” Contemporary Literature 56.2 (Summer 2015): 255-79.

When historian Graeme Davison famously declared that “Australia was born urban and quickly grew suburban” (98), he was clearly referring to Melbourne or Sydney, but certainly not Brisbane. Although the Brisbane of 2011 might resemble a contemporary, thriving metropolis, its genealogy is not an urban one. For most of its history, as Gillian Whitlock has noted, Brisbane was “a place where urban industrial society is kept at bay” (80). What distinguishes Brisbane from Australia’s larger southern capital cities is its rapid morphology into a city from a provincial, suburban, town. Indeed it is Brisbane’s distinctive regionalism, with its sub-tropical climate, offering a steamy, fecund backdrop to narratives of the city that has produced a plethora of writing in literary accounts of the city, from author David Malouf through to contemporary writers such as Andrew McGahan, John Birmingham, Venero Armanno, Susan Johnson, and Nick Earls. Brisbane’s lack of urban tradition makes its transformation unique among Australian cities. Its rapid population growth and urban development have changed the way that many people now live in the city. Unlike the larger cities of Sydney or Melbourne, whose inner cities were established on the Victorian model of terrace-row housing on small lots, Brisbane’s early planners eschewed this approach. So, one of the features that gives the city its distinction is the languorous suburban quality of its inner-city areas, where many house blocks are the size of the suburban quarter-acre block, all within coo-ee of the city centre. Other allotments are medium to small in size, and, until recently, housed single dwellings of varying sizes and grandeur. Add to this a sub-tropical climate in which ‘green and growth’ is abundant and the pretty but flimsy timber vernacular housing, and it’s easy to imagine that you might be many kilometres from a major metropolitan centre as you walk around Brisbane’s inner city areas. It is partly this feature that prompted demographer Bernard Salt to declare Brisbane “Australia’s most suburban city” (Salt 5). Prior to urban renewal in the early 1990s, Brisbane was a low-density town with very few apartment blocks; most people lived in standalone houses.From the inception of the first Urban Renewal program in 1992, a joint initiative of the Federal government’s Building Better Cities Program and managed by the Brisbane City Council (BCC), Brisbane’s urban development has undergone significant change. In particular, the city’s Central Business District (CBD) and inner city have experienced intense development and densification with a sharp rise in medium- to high-density apartment dwellings to accommodate the city’s swelling population. Population growth has added to the demand for increased density, and from the period 1995–2006 Brisbane was Australia’s fastest growing city (ABS).Today, parts of Brisbane’s inner city resembles the density of the larger cities of Melbourne and Sydney. Apartment blocks have mushroomed along the riverfront and throughout inner and middle ring suburbs. Brisbane’s population has enthusiastically embraced apartment living, with “empty nesters” leaving their suburban family homes for the city, and apartments have become the affordable option for renters and first home purchasers. A significant increase in urban amenities such as large-scale parklands and river side boardwalks, and a growth in service industries such as cafes, restaurants and bars—a feature of cities the world over—have contributed to the appeal of the city and the changing way that people live in Brisbane.Urbanism demands specific techniques of living—life is different in medium- to high-density dwellings, in populous places, where people live in close proximity to one another. In many ways it’s the antithesis to suburban life, a way of living that, as Davison notes, was established around an ethos of privacy, health, and seclusion and is exemplified in the gated communities seen in the suburbs today. The suburbs are characterised by generosity of space and land, and developed as a refuge and escape from the city, a legacy of the nineteenth-century industrial city’s connection with overcrowding, disease, and disorder. Suburban living flourished in Australia from the eighteenth century and Davison notes how, when Governor Phillip drew up the first town plan for Sydney in 1789, it embodied the aspirations of “decency, good order, health and domestic privacy,” which lie at the heart of suburban ideals (100).The health and moral impetus underpinning the establishment of suburban life—that is, to remove people from overcrowding and the unhygienic conditions of slums—for Davison meant that the suburban ethos was based on a “logic of avoidance” (110). Attempting to banish anything deemed dangerous and offensive, the suburbs were seen to offer a more natural, orderly, and healthy environment. A virtuous and happy life required plenty of room—thus, a garden and the expectation of privacy was paramount.The suburbs as a site of lived experience and cultural meaning is significant for understanding the shift from suburban living to the adoption of medium- to high-density inner-city living in Brisbane. I suggest that the ways in which this shift is captured discursively, particularly in promotional material, are indicative of the suburbs' stronghold on the collective imagination. Reinforcing this perception of Brisbane as a suburban city is a history of literary narratives that have cast Brisbane in ways that set it apart from other Australian cities, and that are to do with its non-urban characteristics. Imaginative and symbolic discourses of place have real and material consequences (Lefebvre), as advertisers are only too well aware. Discursively, city life has been imagined oppositionally from life in the suburbs: the two sites embody different cultural meanings and values. In Australia, the suburbs are frequently a site of derision and satire, characterized as bastions of conformity and materialism (Horne), offering little of value in contrast to the city’s many enchantments and diverse pleasures. In the well-established tradition of satire, “suburban bashing is replete in literature, film and popular culture” (Felton et al xx). From Barry Humphries’s characterisation of Dame Edna Everage, housewife superstar, who first appeared in the 1960s, to the recent television comedy series Kath and Kim, suburbia and its inhabitants are represented as dull-witted, obsessed with trivia, and unworldly. This article does not intend to rehearse the tradition of suburban lampooning; rather, it seeks to illustrate how ideas about suburban living are hard held and how the suburban ethos maintains its grip, particularly in relation to notions of privacy and peace, despite the celebratory discourse around the emerging forms of urbanism in Brisbane.As Brisbane morphed rapidly from a provincial, suburban town to a metropolis throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, a set of metropolitan discourses developed in the local media that presented new ways of inhabiting and imagining the city and offered new affiliations and identifications with the city. In establishing Brisbane’s distinction as a city, marketing material relied heavily on the opposition between the city and the suburbs, implying that urban vitality and diversity rules triumphant over the suburbs’ apparent dullness and homogeneity. In a billboard advertisement for apartments in the urban renewal area of Newstead (2004), images of architectural renderings of the apartments were anchored by the words—“Urban living NOT suburban”—leaving little room for doubt. It is not the design qualities of the apartments or the building itself being promoted here, but a way of life that alludes to utopian ideas of urban life, of enchantment with the city, and implies, with the heavy emphasis of “NOT suburban,” the inferiority of suburban living.The cultural commodification of the late twentieth- and twenty-first-century city has been well documented (Evans; Dear; Zukin; Harvey) and its symbolic value as a commodity is expressed in marketing literature via familiar metropolitan tropes that are frequently amorphous and international. The malleability of such images makes them easily transportable and transposable, and they provided a useful stockpile for promoting a city such as Brisbane that lacked its own urban resources with which to construct a new identity. In the early days of urban renewal, the iconic images and references to powerhouse cities such as New York, London, and even Venice were heavily relied upon. In the latter example, an advertisement promoting Brisbane appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald colour magazine (May 2005). This advertisement represented Brisbane as an antipodean Venice, showing a large reach of the Brisbane river replete with gondolas flanked by the city’s only nineteenth-century riverside building, the Custom’s House. The allusion to traditional European culture is a departure from the usual tropes of “fun and sun” associated with promotions of Queensland, including Brisbane, while the new approach to promoting Brisbane is cognizant of the value of culture in the symbolic and economic hierarchy of the contemporary city. Perhaps equally, the advertisement could be read as ironic, a postmodern self-parodying statement about the city in general. In a nod to the centrality of the spectacle, the advertisement might be a salute to idea of the city as theme park, a pleasure playground and a collective fantasy of escape. Nonetheless, either interpretation presents Brisbane as somewhere else.In other promotional literature for apartment dwellings, suburban living maintains its imaginative grip, evident in a brochure advertising Petrie Point apartments in Brisbane’s urban renewal area of inner-city New Farm (2000). In the brochure, the promise of peace and calm—ideals that have their basis in suburban living—are imposed and promoted as a feature of inner-city living. Paradoxically, while suggesting that a wholesale evacuation and rejection of suburban life is occurring presumably because it is dull, the brochure simultaneously upholds the values of suburbia:Discerning baby boomers and generation X’ers who prefer lounging over latte rather than mowing the quarter acre block, are abandoning suburban living in droves. Instead, hankering after a more cosmopolitan lifestyle without the mind numbing drive to work, they are retreating to the residential mecca, the inner city, for chic shops and a lively dining, arts and theatre culture. (my italics)In the above extract, the rhetoric used to promote and uphold the virtues of a cosmopolitan inner-city life is sabotaged by a language that in many respects capitulates to the ideals of suburban living, and evokes the health and retreat ethos of suburbia. “Lounging” over lattes and “retreating to a residential mecca”[i] allude to precisely the type of suburban living the brochure purports to eschew. Privacy, relaxation, and health is a discourse and, more importantly, a way of living that is in many ways anathema to life in the city. It is a dream-wish that those features most valued about suburban life, can and should somehow be transplanted to the city. In its promotion of urban amenity, the brochure draws upon a somewhat bourgeois collection of cultural amenities and activities such as a (presumably traditional) arts and theatre culture, “lively dining,” and “chic” shops. The appeal to “discerning baby boomers and generation X’ers” has more than a whiff of status and class, an appeal that disavows the contemporary city’s attention to diversity and inclusivity, and frequently the source of promotion of many international cities. In contrast to the suburban sub-text of exclusivity and seclusion in the Petrie Point Apartment’s brochure, is a promotion of Sydney’s inner-city Newtown as a tourist site and spectacle, which makes an appeal to suburban antipathy clear from the outset. The brochure, distributed by NSW Tourism (2000) displays a strong emphasis on Newtown’s cultural and ethnic diversity, and the various forms of cultural consumption on offer. The inner-city suburb’s appeal is based on its re-framing as a site of tourist consumption of diversity and difference in which diversity is central to its performance as a tourist site. It relies on the distinction between “ordinary” suburbs and “cosmopolitan” places:Some cities are cursed with suburbs, but Sydney’s blessed with Newtown — a cosmopolitan neighbourhood of more than 600 stores, 70 restaurants, 42 cafes, theatres, pubs, and entertainment venues, all trading in two streets whose origins lie in the nineteenth century … Newtown is the Catwalk for those with more style than money … a parade where Yves St Laurent meets Saint Vincent de Paul, where Milano meets post-punk bohemia, where Max Mara meets Doc Marten, a stage where a petticoat is more likely to be your grandma’s than a Colette Dinnigan designer original (From Sydney Marketing brochure)Its opening oppositional gambit—“some cities are cursed with suburbs”—conveniently elides the fact that like all Australian cities, Sydney is largely suburban and many of Sydney’s suburbs are more ethnically diverse than its inner-city areas. Cabramatta, Fairfield, and most other suburbs have characteristically high numbers of ethnic groups such as Vietnamese, Korean, Lebanese, and so forth. Recent events, however, have helped to reframe these places as problem areas, rather than epicentres of diversity.The mingling of social groups invites the tourist-flâneur to a performance of difference, “a parade where Yves St Laurent meets Saint Vincent de Paul (my italics), where Milano meets post-punk bohemia,” and where “the upwardly mobile and down at heel” appear in what is presented as something of a theatrical extravaganza. Newtown is a product, its diversity a commodity. Consumed visually and corporeally via its divergent sights, sounds, smells and tastes (the brochure goes on to state that 70 restaurants offer cuisine from all over the globe), Newtown is a “successful neighbourhood experiment in the new globalism.” The area’s social inequities—which are implicit in the text, referred to as the “down at heel”—are vanquished and celebrated, incorporated into the rhetoric of difference.Brisbane’s lack of urban tradition and culture, as well as its lack of diversity in comparison to Sydney, reveals itself in the first brochure while the Newtown brochure appeals to the idea of a consumer-based cosmopolitanism. As a sociological concept, cosmopolitanism refers to a set of "subjective attitudes, outlooks and practices" broadly characterized as “disposition of openness towards others, people, things and experiences whose origin is non local” (Skrbis and Woodward 1). Clearly cosmopolitan attitudes do not have to be geographically located, but frequently the city is promoted as the site of these values, with the suburbs, apparently, forever looking inward.In the realm of marketing, appeals to the imagination are ubiquitous, but discursive practices can become embedded in everyday life. Despite the growth of urbanism, the increasing take up of metropolitan life and the enduring disdain among some for the suburbs, the hard-held suburban values of peace and privacy have pragmatic implications for the ways in which those values are embedded in people’s expectations of life in the inner city.The exponential growth in apartment living in Brisbane offers different ways of living to the suburban house. For a sub-tropical city where "life on the verandah" is a significant feature of the Queenslander house with its front and exterior verandahs, in the suburbs, a reasonable degree of privacy is assured. Much of Brisbane’s vernacular and contemporary housing is sensitive to this indoor-outdoor style of living, a distinct feature and appeal of everyday life in many suburbs. When "life on the verandah" is adapted to inner-city apartment buildings, expectations that indoor-outdoor living can be maintained in the same way can be problematic. In the inner city, life on the verandah may challenge expectations about privacy, noise and visual elements. While the Brisbane City Plan 2000 attempts to deal with privacy issues by mandating privacy screenings on verandahs, and the side screening of windows to prevent overlooking neighbours, there is ample evidence that attitudinal change is difficult. The exchange of a suburban lifestyle for an urban one, with the exposure to urbanity’s complexity, potential chaos and noise, can be confronting. In the Urban Renewal area and entertainment precinct of Fortitude Valley, during the late 1990s, several newly arrived residents mounted a vigorous campaign to the Brisbane City Council (BCC) and State government to have noise levels reduced from local nightclubs and bars. Fortitude Valley—the Valley, as it is known locally—had long been Brisbane’s main area for nightclubs, bars and brothels. A small precinct bounded by two major one-way roads, it was the locus of the infamous ABC 4 Corners “Moonlight State” report, which exposed the lines of corruption between politicians, police, and the judiciary of the former Bjelke-Petersen government (1974–1987) and who met in the Valley’s bars and brothels. The Valley was notorious for Brisbanites as the only place in a provincial, suburban town that resembled the seedy side of life associated with big cities. The BCC’s Urban Renewal Task Force and associated developers initially had a tough task convincing people that the area had been transformed. But as more amenity was established, and old buildings were converted to warehouse-style living in the pattern of gentrification the world over, people started moving in to the area from the suburbs and interstate (Felton). One of the resident campaigners against noise had purchased an apartment in the Sun Building, a former newspaper house and in which one of the apartment walls directly abutted the adjoining and popular nightclub, The Press Club. The Valley’s location as a music venue was supported by the BCC, who initially responded to residents’ noise complaints with its “loud and proud” campaign (Valley Metro). The focus of the campaign was to alert people moving into the newly converted apartments in the Valley to the existing use of the neighbourhood by musicians and music clubs. In another iteration of this campaign, the BCC worked with owners of music venues to ensure the area remains a viable music precinct while implementing restrictions on noise levels. Residents who objected to nightclub noise clearly failed to consider the impact of moving into an area that was already well known, even a decade ago, as the city’s premier precinct for music and entertainment venues. Since that time, the Valley has become Australia’s only regulated and promoted music precinct.The shift from suburban to urban living requires people to live in very different ways. Thrust into close proximity with strangers amongst a diverse population, residents can be confronted with a myriad of sensory inputs—to a cacophony of noise, sights, smells (Allon and Anderson). Expectations of order, retreat, and privacy inevitably come into conflict with urbanism’s inherent messiness. The contested nature of urban space is expressed in neighbour disputes, complaints about noise and visual amenity, and sometimes in eruptions of street violence. There is no shortage of examples in the Brisbane’s Urban Renewal areas such as Fortitude Valley, where acts of homophobia, racism, and other less destructive conflicts continue to be a frequent occurrence. While the refashioned discursive Brisbane is re-presented as cool, cultured, and creative, the tensions of urbanism and tests to civility remain in a process of constant negotiation. This is the way the city’s past disrupts and resists its cool new surface.[i] The use of the word mecca in the brochure occurred prior to 11 September 2001.ReferencesAllon, Fiona, and Kay Anderson. "Sentient Sydney." In Passionate City: An International Symposium. Melbourne: RMIT, School of Media Communication, 2004. 89–97.Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). Regional Population Growth, Australia, 1996-2006.Birmingham, John. "The Lost City of Vegas: David Malouf’s Old Brisbane." Hot Iron Corrugated Sky. Ed. R. Sheahan-Bright and S. Glover. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2002. xx–xx.Davison, Graeme. "The Past and Future of the Australian Suburb." Suburban Dreaming: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Australian Cities. Ed. L. Johnson. Geelong: Deakin University Press, 1994. xx–xx.Dear, Michael. The Postmodern Urban Condition. Oxford: Blackwell, 2000.Evans, Graeme. “Hard-Branding the Cultural City—From Prado to Prada.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 27.2 (2003): 417–40.Evans, Raymond, and Carole Ferrier, eds. Radical Brisbane. Melbourne: The Vulgar Press, 2004.Felton, Emma, Christy Collis, and Phil Graham. “Making Connections: Creative Industries Networks in Outer Urban Locations.” Australian Geographer 14.1 (Mar. 2010): 57–70.Felton, Emma. Emerging Urbanism: A Social and Cultural Study of Urban Change in Brisbane. PhD thesis. Brisbane: Griffith University, 2007.Glover, Stuart, and Stuart Cunningham. "The New Brisbane." Artlink 23.2 (2003): 16–23. Harvey, David. The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1990. Horne, Donald. The Lucky Country: Australia in the Sixties. Ringwood: Penguin, 1964.Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1991.Malouf, David. Johnno. St Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1975. ---. 12 Edmondstone Street. London: Penguin, 1986.NSW Tourism. Sydney City 2000. Sydney, 2000.Salt, Bernard. Cinderella City: A Vision of Brisbane’s Rise to Prominence. Sydney: Austcorp, 2005.Skrbis, Zlatko, and Ian Woodward. “The Ambivalence of Ordinary Cosmopolitanism: Investigating the Limits of Cosmopolitanism Openness.” Sociological Review (2007): 1-14.Valley Metro. 1 May 2011 < http://www.valleymetro.com.au/the_valley.aspx >.Whitlock, Gillian. “Queensland: The State of the Art on the 'Last Frontier.’" Westerly 29.2 (1984): 85–90.Zukin, Sharon. The Culture of Cities. Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell, 1995.

Bones are one of the oldest materials used to create musical instruments. Currently, the world’s oldest known instruments are flutes made out of bones (Turk, Turk, and Otte 11). In fact, bones have been used to create or enhance musical instruments in a variety of settings throughout history and in modern day instrument making. Bone bull roarers, jaw bone percussion, clappers, trumpets, drum shells, lyres, or construction parts, such as frets, plectrums, pipes and pipe fittings, embouchure adjustments, or percussive strikes are just a few of the more common uses of bones in musical instrument construction. One man even made a guitar out of the skeleton of his dead uncle to memorialise the person who influenced his musical tastes and career (Bienstock). Bones can therefore be taken as a somewhat common material for making musical instruments. All of these instruments share a common trait, and not just the obvious one that they are all made out of or incorporate bones. None of these instruments are intended to represent something monstrous. Instead, they represent the ephemeral nature of humanity (Cupchik 33), a celebration of lineage or religious beliefs (Davis), or simply are the materials available or suitable to create a sound-making device (Regan). It is not possible to know the full intentions of a maker, in many cases, but a link to monstrosity and a representation of the ‘horrific’ or ‘freakish’ seems missing for the most. There are instruments, however, that do house this sentiment and some that utilise bones in the construction with the purpose of making this connection between the remains and something beast-like. In this article, I argue that the Bone Guitar Thing (BGT) built and played by raxil4 is one of those instruments. Introducing the 'Thing' Raxil4 is the stage name of sonic artist Andrew Page. He has been playing his Bone Guitar Thing for almost twenty years in a variety of settings (Page, email interview, 25 June 2021). The instrument has undergone slight changes during that time, but primarily it has retained its specific visual, timbral, and underlying associative features. The BGT is complex, more so than it may seem at first. By investigating the materials used, the performance techniques employed, and raxil4’s intentions as a musician, instrument maker, and community member within his circles of activity, the monstrous nature of the BGT comes to light. The resultant series of entanglements exhibits and supports a definition of what is a 'monster' that, like several definitions in monster theory discourse (Levina and Bui 6; Cohen 7; Mittman 51), includes challenging that which may be seen as ‘normal’ and thereby may nurture levels of unease or fear. However, in the case of the BGT, that which is monstrous is simultaneously being taken as something positive alongside its beast-like characteristics, and rather than evolving into something that needs to be repressed or eliminated, the ’monster’ here becomes a hero or champion, colleague, or even a friend. The Bone Guitar Thing is not really a guitar. It is a zither with a piece of driftwood for a base, (currently) five strings, and an electric pick-up (see Fig. 1). The bridge for the instrument is two bones, and the pitch and timbre of the strings is sometimes changed with bones used for Cage-like preparation (Cage 7-8; Bunger). Bones are also used to play the instrument, sometimes like a plectrum, others like a hammered dulcimer, or occasionally, simply pounding the string or the soundboard with great force to make a combination of percussive and string sounds. Glissandos are created by using the plectrum bones as a slide, and Page also uses jaw bones to introduce ratchet sounds, string scraping, and precise pitch bending (with the sharper edged part of the bones) (raxil4, “Livestream”). The instrument is electric, so the bones are enhanced with guitar pedals (typically reverb, distortion, and octave-splitter; Page, email interview, 25 June 2021), but the tonal qualities retain a semblance of the bone usage. Fig. 1: raxil4's Bone Guitar Thing. Photograph: Andrew Page. Page often uses the BGT as part of his sonic arsenal to perform dark ambient music, noisescapes, improv music, or live film soundtracks both in live concerts and recording situations. He plays solo as much as with ensembles, and more often improvises his music or parts, but occasionally works with predetermined organisation or scores of some description (although he admits to typically abandoning predetermined passages or scores during live performances; Page, email interview, 14 July 2021). Currently in London, raxil4 presents concerts in a variety of settings, typically well-suited for his brand of sonic art, such as Ryan Jordan’s long-running concert series Noise=Noise (raxil4 feat. King Sara), experimental music shows at the Barbican (raxil4 + King Sara + P23), and dark ambient showcases promoted and arranged by one of his record labels, Sombre Soniks (Wright). Sounds beyond Words: Monstrous Music One series of performances in which raxil4 used the BGT took the form of an immersive theatre show produced by Dread Falls Theatre called Father Dagon, based on the works of horror author H. P. Lovecraft. The performance incorporated a breaking of the ’fourth wall’ in which the audience wanders freely through the performance space, with actor- and sometimes audience-interactive musical performances of partially improvised, partially composed passages by musicians located throughout the set. Director and writer Victoria Snaith considered the use of live, semi-mobile, experimental music dispersed through the audience (mixed with an overall backing soundtrack) as heightening the intensity of the experience by introducing unfamiliar aspects to the setting. She discusses having made this decision based on Lovecraft’s own approach to story-telling that highlights a sense of unfamiliarity and therefore sense of “fear of the unknown”. The usefulness of creating unfamiliarity in this context can serve to support the parts of the narrative that contains supernatural and monstrous aspects. Given that the elements of the supernatural and horrible monsters in Lovecraftian tales are primarily indescribable (both because Lovecraft would recount beasts and fantastic magical happenings in his works as being such, and because in a practical theatrical situation, these things would be impossible to describe, especially without text or specific props or costumes, which the show purposefully uses sparingly, also as a conscious choice to embrace the unknown). Sounds created on instruments that are unique, or generated through unusual performance techniques would lend themselves to being more difficult to describe, and therefore fitting to support a desire to present something regarded as also difficult to describe, that being supernatural happenings or horrific creatures. (Connor 77) Page’s use of the BGT in these performances added directly to this notion both sonically and visually. The homemade nature of his instrument increased the potential that audience members would be less familiar with the source of his sounds, even if they were watching him perform, and the resultant soundscape he provided introduced harsh timbres, undulating pads, and aggressive punctuation of movement. Page sees the BGT as an instrument “reclaimed from the watery depths” (matching the theme of the show’s narrative), therefore as one fitting into the Lovecraft show “quite nicely” (Page, email interview, 25 June 2021). He likens the sounds created by the BGT as presenting “otherworldly melodies” akin to those played by Erich Zann (a character in another Lovecraft story who conjures a gateway to an alternate dimension full of indescribable creatures and nightmares via performing unusual music on his viola de gamba), which Page also sees as fitting (ibid.). His instrument in this setting as a producer and provider of unfamiliarity is supportive of constructing and maintaining a definition of “monstrous” or “terrifying” (Levina and Bui 6). Fig. 2: raxil4 performing in Dread Falls Theatre's Father Dagon, London 2012. Photograph: Pierre Ketteridge. Finding Community in the 'Freakish' Raxil4 also notes that the Bone Guitar Thing is appropriate for creative input within improv music circles (Page, email interview, 25 June 2021). Generally speaking, contemporary improv music (meaning the broad genre) is improvised performance focussing on sonic exploration over melodic, harmonic, or rhythmic content (even though all will be present in most cases; Toop 132-137). In my experience working with improv musicians since 1981, I find that these performers typically attempt to create sounds that are unusual or unexpected. Players often embrace extended techniques, repurposing non-musical items to be sound-making devices, and employ self-built instruments. Improv musicians seek to break free from the constraints of what may be seen as Western standard musical practices (ibid.), but they simultaneously strive to uphold some parallel aspects of artisanship and virtuosity, perhaps as a means to validate their departure from Classical/mainstream music norms. The instruments and approaches can be seen as factors that separate the experimental artists from the conservatory-based performers, yet still affords them the clout of being hard-working, innovative, expressive, and professional. As the name implies, improv music emphasises improvisation. André Hodier (23-36) in his classic book The Worlds of Jazz likens improvising jazz musicians to an alien race who battle each other on a daily basis (via jazz battles) in order to see who resides at the top of the improvisation chain. Improv musicians (some of whom come from a jazz background) tend to engage in this sort of hierarchical status ranking system using a much more ’polite’ and co-supportive mentality (at least in the scenes in which I have been privileged to participate). Improv musicians can occasionally embrace a friendly attitude that one should surpass the experimental nature of other performers, and may do so by presenting a new sound, technique, or instrument. The BGT can serve this function. It can stand out among other improv musicians’ gear, even if a majority of the instruments are self-built, through its use of bones and its intentional evocation of something horrific. Improvised music is sometimes looked down upon by musical communities who value conservatory training, popular music, or more traditional Western classical approaches to music. Referring to avant-garde jazz in the 60s and 70s, Valerie Wilmer (6) recounts that critics and Classical music enthusiasts perceived experimental and improv music as “‘freakish’ and only worthy of passing interest”. The dynamic is different today, but the overall attitude remains, at least in part. The improv music scene is creatively valid, but in comparison to conservative or more mainstream music, incorporates more experimental practices, therefore sometimes musical form, interactions, and preparation is less obvious to audience members outside the experimental music circles. The Bone Guitar Thing also plays into this construction. It is artistically valid, yet perhaps simultaneously challenging to the less-experienced listener. The BGT in this setting is multifunctional. Page (email interview, 25 June 2021) sees the BGT as a means to cut through or rise above other improv musicians, partly by being more recognisable as a “freakish” instrument at performances where the music is already considered freakish by some outsiders. Additionally, the fact that Page has taken the time to make this instrument, and uses notably practiced techniques to create the sounds he introduces, may position him as an innovative professional, rather than a non-trained imposter. The BGT can (at least for raxil4, but for others as well) become a monster among monsters that allows Page to validate his brand of creativity (Ibid). Musical ’freakishness’ appears in other settings as well. An example of this is a performance in which raxil4 took part where an ensemble provided experimental music for a live tattooing event (raxil4, “Listening”). Here, the congruency with being monstrous or freakish is perhaps more overt. Similar to the soundscape being performed, Fenske (6) points out that tattoos may still be seen as unfit or unexpected for certain classes, genders, or education levels, and may even still be associated with illustrated circus performers of the past. Furthermore, Kinzey (32) suggests that avant-garde and counter-culture communities (such as ones where tattooing and live music converge in a single event) often value uniqueness that serves to “erase boundaries between everyday life and art”. The combined performativity of live music and tattoo inking (both the artistic activity and the art itself) associates raxil4 and the BGT with this non-mainstream circle (to some degree), potentially conjuring an identity of something freakish or monstrous to people with different values. Engaging with Expressive Objects The conception and evolution of the Bone Guitar Thing has its roots in personal experience, art experimentation, and material culture related to Page’s life and the musical communities in which he played and plays. In the past, Page endeavored to make small sculptures to be given as Christmas and birthday gifts from materials he found on the shore of the River Thames, many including bones. Page then began to create new musical instruments with what he had available. Page’s brother is a doctor specialising in gunshot wounds and knife trauma, and his apartment was filled with remnants of his brother’s occupation, including a number of crutches. From these, Page crafted his first instruments in this period: crutch harps that utilised the leftover medical devices to build stringed sound generators. He claims the instruments at first were not overly successful, so he began to experiment with his bone sculptures to create more serviceable instruments. An early attempt was a percussion instrument made from various found bones, which Page deemed the “Xylobone” (see Fig. 4). This instrument and advanced crutch harps (6-string tenor (see Fig. 3.) and 2-string bass) became his first arsenal of sound makers, but Page felt the instruments ultimately failed to meet expectations and opted to rethink his approaches and designs. Fig. 3: One of Page's 6-stringed crutch harps. Photograph: Andrew Page. Fig. 4: The Xylobone - raxil4's bone xylophone percussion instrument. Photograph: Andrew Page. The BGT was intended to be more “playable”, “expressive”, and audible to battle louder co-performers. As mentioned, the driftwood base and bones for the instrument originated from the River Thames. The electronics come from a destroyed guitar that was the result of performing in a previous project in which Page was the singer, where the guitarist “had a habit of smashing his guitars on stage, in a sort of expensive tribute to [grunge guitarist] Kurt Cobain" (Page, email interview, 25 June 2021). The BGT started off as a 6-string zither that used guitar-gauge steel strings, but according to Page, given the harsh performance technique of beating or scraping the strings with bones, he was encouraged to switch to using wound, bass-gauge strings, affording him a lower pitch and greater resistance to energetic performance practices. One tuning peg, however, snapped off quite early in its life (as it was in a thinner, more weathered part of the driftwood), leaving the instrument one string shorter. Page says he likes to think that the instrument decided itself that it would be a “5-stringed beast” (ibid.). Conclusion The Bone Guitar Thing is, in fact, beast-like, at least in the settings, sonic attributes, and mindsets of the player and the communities in which the instrument is played, but it may not be the case that this beast-like nature is equal to being monstrous. Cohen (3-25) in his discussion of seven potential monster theories outlines several different notions of what can be considered “monstrous” and relates the monster in each theoretical situation to those fearing the monstrous construct. Most closely related to the situation in which the BGT is observed is a parallel theory based on the concept of “Us versus Them”, meaning “Us” as those who are dealing with the monster in question, and “Them” as being those on the side of the monster or the monster itself (Cohen 19-20). However, with the BGT, the monster is not unanimous with “them”, but rather with “us”. In all the situations outlined here, the instrument takes on the role of a beast, but not a negative role for Page (email interview, 14 July 2021) or fans of raxil4 (Wright). Instead, the beast is more like part of the team of noise makers actively engaged in the community’s activities of creation, entertainment, identity, and validation of values upheld thereof. Each of the performance settings can be argued to exhibit a sense of welcoming outsiders or praising diversity, rather than ostracising it. The Lovecraft performance and story were constructed on the premise of questioning what is a monster and who determines that definition. The Bone Guitar Thing supports and interacts precisely within this parameter to enhance the artistic commentary presented. Within the improv music setting, the instrument assists Page to achieve uniqueness among that which is already unique and highlights the values of community including a show of innovation, exploration, and personal performance technique development. For the live tattooing, the instrument stands out as a unifying sonic flag, connecting other (perhaps less-monstrous) artists into a stronger group of alternative creatives. Effectively, the BGT is a 'freak among freaks', serving to simultaneously fit in and rise above, all while maintaining a sense of “us” within respective circles. The beast-like nature is not entirely an outward force. Page (email interviews, 25 June 2021 and 14 July 2021) is aware that he has received no formal education in music. He admits he is less familiar with music theory, and more familiar with the science and technology behind the music. Page considers himself to be experimental in his approach to sound creation, which he sees as being more unique due to ignoring the “rulebooks” (ibid.). As a result, he feels (at least a slight) pressure of feeling “unprofessional” or “correct” in the eyes of Western conservatory-trained musicians and composers or those with a similar mentality (Page, email interview, 25 June 2021). The BGT was also, to a degree, built to battle being told what was “right”. For Page, his instrument is akin to a beast that helped him break free of the constraints of Western tonal and virtuosic constraints. “I made my own [instrument] so that nobody could tell me I was playing it the wrong way” (ibid.). His “beast” helped him break down barriers and asserted himself as an innovative musician and creative professional. So, then, the Bone Guitar Thing is a monster; sonically, visually, and physically. It represents a monster, it is called “the beast”, and it takes on the role of a terrifying creature raging through (sometimes, extremely quietly – raxil4; raxil 4 feat. King Sara; raxil4 + King Sara + P23) soundscapes, settings, and performances, rallying the like-minded and routing the unsuspecting or “others”. That is an overdramatic take on the situation, perhaps, but the instrument does uphold a series of values and creative aesthetics that fosters positive relationships between the artist, the community, and the sonic and physical qualities of the zither. Rather than being a device that places a horrific barrier to be overcome in an “us versus them” scenario, the monster takes on an alternate role and becomes a source of empowerment for “outsiders” or marginalised groups or people (Mittman 51). Thus the Bone Guitar Thing allows Page to demolish barriers and amalgamate fellow community members into a larger version of “us” to create a space in which the beast is no longer a monster. References Bienstock, Richard. “Man Builds Guitar Out of His Dead Uncle’s Skeleton.” Guitar World 11 Feb. 2021. Web. 13 June 2021 <https://www.guitarworld.com/news/man-builds-guitar-out-of-his-dead-uncles-skeleton-uses-it-to-play-black-metal>. Bunger, Richard. The Well-Prepared Piano. Colorado Springs: Colorado College Music P, 1973. Cage, John. Empty Words: Writings ’73-’78. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University P, 1981. Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. “Monster Culture (Seven Theses).” Monster Theory: Reading Culture. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1996. 3–25. Connor, Will. “Performing the Sounds of Darkness: An Exploratory Discussion of Musical Instruments and the Gothic Aesthetic.” The Dark Arts Journal: Reimaging the Gothic 2.I2 (Autumn 2016). 26 June 2021 <https://thedarkartsjournal.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/the-dark-arts-journal-2-21.pdf>. Cupchik, Jeffrey. “Buddhism as Performing Art: Visualizing Music in the Tibetan Sacred Ritual Music Liturgies.” Yale Journal of Music & Religion 1.1 (2015): 31–62. Davis, Josh. “Some Bronze Age Britons Turned the Bones of Dead Relatives into Musical Instruments.” Natural History Museum. 1 Sep. 2020. 23 June 2021 <https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/news/2020/september/bronze-age-britons-turned-the-bones-of-dead-relatives-into-musical-instruments.html>. Fenske, Mindy. Tattoos in American Visual Culture. New York: Palgrave, 2007. Hodier, André. The Worlds of Jazz. New York: Grove P, 1972. Kinzey, Jake. The Sacred and the Profane: An Investigation of Hipsters. Winchester, U.K.: Zero Books, 2012. Levina, Marina, and Diem-My T. Bui. “Introduction: Toward a Comprehensive Monster Theory in the 21st Century.” Monster Culture in the 21st Century: A Reader. Eds. Marina Levina and Diem-My T. Bui. New Delhi: Bloomsbury. 1–14. Mittman, Asa Simon. “Introduction: The Impact of Monsters and Monster Studies.” The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous. Eds. Asa Simon Mittman and Peter J. Dendle. London and New York: Routledge, 2013. 44–60. Raxil4. Listening Circuits: 19/06/21 with Live Tattooing from Catmouse. 21 June 2021. 23 June 2021 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZgUC5TTOxk&list=LL&index=3>. ———. raxil4 – Livestream for Iklecktik: 21/06/20. 22 June 2020. 23 June 2021 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zW-Mw2jRDQ&list=LL&index=6>. Raxil4 feat: King Sara. raxil4 feat: King Sara – Sawbones 13 – Live @ Noise=Noise (14/01/13). 26 Jan. 2013. 23 June 2021 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxFMA77yQ_A&list=LL&index=5>. raxil4 + King Sara + P23. raxil4 + King Sara + P23 – Barbican: 15/08/13. 11 Sep. 2018. 23 June 2021 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N619ooZxx-0&list=LL&index=4>. Page, Andrew. Email interview. 25 June 2021. ———. Email interview. 14 July 2021. Regan, Marty. Video interview. 13 July 2021. Snaith, Victoria. Personal interview. 17 April 2016. Toop, David. Ocean of Sound. London: Serpent’s Tail, 2001. Turk, Matija, Ivan Turk, and Marcel Otte. “The Neanderthal Musical Instrument from Divje Babe I Cave (Slovenia): A Critical Review of the Discussion.” Applied Sciences 10-1226.2 (2020): 1–11. Wilmer, Valerie. As Serious as Your Life. London: Serpent’s Tail, 2018. Wright, Kevin. Email interview. 29 June 2021.