Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Umbrellas – Fiction”

Gina Marchetti’s interview with NewYork-based Hong Kong independent filmmaker Evans Chan took place after Chan had said goodbye to his former home and to nearly three decades of filmmaking in the city, following the introduction of Hong Kong’s National Security Law in 2020. Her interview focuses on Chan’s non-fiction filmmaking, particularly his recent films dealing with Hong Kong’s two protest movements of 2014 and 2019, namely Raise the Umbrellas 撐傘 () and We Have Boots 我們有雨靴 (). While the latter part of the interview concerns Chan’s thoughts on the relationship between documentaries and democracy, it also explores the signature aesthetics of his films and an underlying ‘story of Hong Kong’, which the interviewer sees as a consistent thread running through his fiction and non-fiction filmography. A wide range of cinematic, literary, sociopolitical and philosophical influences in his work emerge in the course of this in-depth interview with the filmmaker.

Climate change has been attracting increasing attention as one of the most significant consequences of the anthropogenic global warming and fictional narratives have increasingly been involved in engaging human imagination on the topic of climate change. Climate fiction, or cli-fi, is the umbrella term that designates fiction with climate change as its main theme. Climate fiction has been primarily published in English so far and narratives specifically problematising anthropogenic climate change are still quite rare in the Arabic literary landscape. In this regard, the novel 2022 by the Lebanese author Ghassān Shibārū constitutes an interesting case, given that it is authored in Arabic but displays several of the characteristics typical of the cli-fi genre. This paper aims at providing an analysis of Shibārū’s novel 2022 as representative of Arabic climate fiction. The main features of the climate fiction genre and its relationship to the scholarship of ecocriticism are first outlined. An overview of the environment as a theme in Arabic literature and Arabic literary studies then follows. The paper subsequently presents the concept of ecological literacy, which constitutes the theoretical framework for the analysis of the characters in the novel. After a synopsis of the plot, the characters are analysed and discussed and the novel itself is examined as instance of climate fiction as intended by the Anglophone definition of the genre. The authors argue that the purpose of the novel is didactic, since, rather than narrating a fictional story, the novels exploits a fictional story in order to spread awareness of global warming and climate change. Keywords: Contemporary Arabic literature • Climate change • Climate fiction • Ecocriticism • Ecological literacy

Genre fiction, also recognized as popular fiction is an umbrella term as it comprises various categories, varieties, and sub-types. On occasion, innovative writers have practiced in mingling these methods and generating an entirely dissimilar variety of categories. In general, genre fiction inclines to place plentiful significance on entertainment and, as a consequence, it leans towards to be more widespread with mass audiences. But currently, writers are lettering beyond mere meager amusement and they are commenting on various socio-cultural issues, resulting in their writing more realistic. Furthermore, various life real things and norms implied in their writing are constructing the entire genre form and all its types more noteworthy and vital. As accredited by literary jurisdiction following are some of the leading classifications as they are used in contemporary publication: Fantasy, Horror, Science fiction, Crime and Mystery Fiction etc. The kind Crime and Mystery Fiction also has various categories for example, Cozy, Hardboiled, The Inverted Detective Story, Police Procedural, etc. In the present paper, Canadian crime fiction writer Peter Robinson’s novel In a Dry Season is studied in the light of this police procedural type of novel writing. The paper aspires to discover various police procedural features employed by the writer.

Abstract: Since the eighteenth century, writers have positioned maxims—pithy statements of general truth—as antithetical to realist fiction. According to these accounts, a work is "realist" if it produces in a reader an internal sense of it being true to reality. General and common maxims are, by contrast, unreal because they "leave no impression on the mind." Working alongside and against these accounts of the maxim-realism antithesis, this essay uncovers an alternative realism advanced through literary generalization in Samuel Richardson's Clarissa . "Literary generalization" is an umbrella term I use for a number of related forms that run through Richardson's work: newly formulated maxims; the literary fragments comprising the tenth "mad paper"; and literary quotations from "real" works that fictional characters use to predict effects within the fictional world. I argue that this realism of literary generalization involves the reader in the composition of a common world composed of unpredictable associations. This world is composed of human and nonhuman entities, defined by shifting inequities, and is unredeemable through an individual's cultivation of meaning within. This is a very different realism than the still influential formal realism of the early novel that Ian Watt introduced many decades ago. Although the alternative realism I find in Clarissa is not "new," I mark it as such to signal the essay's engagement with several versions of what has been called the "new materialism."

The literary canon carries with it a huge array of possible writings exploring the various contours of fiction, the genre of Detective fiction is one such umbrella term. The effect of mystery and suspense and the surprise factors being hidden away in the pages, keeps the readers glued to detective fiction. This paper explores the plot line of one of the prominent detective stories, Thomas Harris’s ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ in search of certain existential questions regarding the named serial killer in the plot. The social evil of killing the lives of many for the purely pleasure aspect is viewed from multiple viewpoints and a new reading of the plot by placing it within relevant contextual framework is carried out. A traversal through the psychological, behavioural and social norms of the context is explores within the paper.

Weird Fiction is often understood as an unclassifiable fusion of horror, science fiction (SF) and fantasy, and therefore a kind of generically hybridized writing. Here I discuss various parallels between Weird Fiction and music marketed and recognized as ‘extreme metal’, an umbrella term for bands playing in the core styles of black, death and doom metal, and their various offshoots like grindcore and sludge. Analysis of all Weird Metal is beyond the scope of this article, so I focus on artists who achieve Weirdness through the presence and interrelationship of hybridity, numinosity (an overwhelming feeling of majesty) and alterity (radical difference), especially: Wolves in the Throne Room, Howls of Ebb, Portal, A Forest of Stars, Voices and (The Unsearchable Riches of) Void. I also consider how metal relates to the ‘New Weird’, radical developments in traditions of the form, concluding with thoughts on the wider theorization of The Weird.

The popularity of the children's detective genre defies an apparent clash between the nature of the genre, specifically its reliance on readerly ability and capital crime, and children's literature's specific group of readers, and thus invites investigation. It is therefore peculiar that children's detective fiction has not enjoyed much scholarship, particularly in the English language. While the detective genre is usually discussed under the umbrella term of ‘crime literature’ when it enjoys an adult readership, in children's literature scholarship it is usually tucked into the categories of the ‘adventure’ or ‘mystery’ story. This article aims to address the relative lack of scholarship on children's detective fiction by analysing how the classic detective is adapted for child readers. 1

Abstract Netflix’s popular science fiction series The Umbrella Academy raises new questions about how the familiar trope of the ape-man has been adapted for a contemporary audience. Tracing the figure of the ape-man through representative works of nineteenth-century science fiction—Jules Verne’s The Mysterious Island, Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, H. G. Wells’s The Island of Dr Moreau, and Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Tarzan of the Apes—shows that the character has often been used to interrogate ideas of race, gender, and power across the Victorian age. More than just a stand-in for nineteenth-century evolutionary debates, the figure of the ape-man reflects cultural ideas about the relationship between humans and their “animal instincts,” constantly questioning what sets humans apart in the hierarchy of animals.

AbstractInteractive digital narrative (IDN) is an umbrella term used to encompass the various formats of digital narrative such as hypertext fiction, transmedia stories, and video games. The study of IDNs transverses the disciplines of narratology, game studies, and media studies. The main question this article addresses is how does the digital medium affect narrative in cultural heritage websites? This question is examined by proposing a new communication model that considers the role of digital media — the Creator-Produser Transaction Model — and adapting existing “tools” of narrative analysis into a “narratological toolkit” for the study of non-fiction IDNs. The transaction between creators and produsers and how an IDN narratological toolkit can be applied are exemplified through the analysis of three cultural heritage websites: Open Monuments (“Otwarte Zabytki”), Belgian Refugees of 1914–1919, and Storymap.

As the digital revolution continues and our lives become increasingly governed by smart technologies, there is a rising need for reflection and critical debate about where we are, where we are headed, and where we want to be. Against this background, the paper suggests that one way to foster such discussion is by engaging with the world of fiction, with imaginative stories that explore the spaces, places, and politics of alternative realities. Hence, after a concise discussion of the concept of speculative fiction, we introduce the notion of datafictions as an umbrella term for speculative stories that deal with the datafication of society in both imaginative and imaginable ways. We then outline and briefly discuss fifteen datafictions subdivided into five main categories: surveillance; social sorting; prediction; advertising and corporate power; hubris, breakdown, and the end of Big Data. In a concluding section, we argue for the increased use of speculative fiction in education, but also as a tool to examine how specific technologies are culturally imagined and what kind of futures are considered plausible given current implementations and trajectories.

Ever since Shakespeare had sent a fat king to go a progress through the guts of a lean beggar [31] human internal organs started to serve as a textual locus in fiction and non-fiction, or a subject in a possible world. Their presentation varies depending upon the purpose, the form and the style of writing, semiotic modalities of their exposition, as well as the epistemological development of knowledge. These varieties come under the umbrella property known as “the possibility of the impossible” [12]. In such possible world a cat can walk in the brain as if it were his apartments [3], or together with children travel through the whole system of human internal organs [9], or a concerto could be designed for neurons and synapses [22]. In scientific articles, a textual world takes the form of topographic maps and models, including semantic distribution [11]. With this in the mind, we state the purpose for this paper to classify the types of textual “chronotops” (in a Bakhtinian sense [2]) that characterize fictional and nonfictional loci of human internal organs. We also aim at stating the type of dependences that provide narrative shapes to a possible world inside a human body. For the analyses we attract among others M.&nbsp;Bakhtin’s theories of the “carnival poetics” and “Chronotop” [2], and Yu.&nbsp;Lotman’s theories of “semiotic textualization” [18] and “semantic intersection” [19].<br> We state as our hypotheses that a blend of epistemological knowledge, personal involvement of the authors into any sort of scientific experiment and an educational goal determine the type of the deixis or “chronotop”, the major semiotic modality being “SAVOIR”-TO KNOW (in the Greimasian sense).

the Victorians’ driving interest in exploration and expansion is perhaps one of the best-known scholarly truisms about the age and its literature. While the British Empire was rapidly expanding and commercial competition began to stretch across the globe with a newly perceived urgency, Victorians at home throughout this expanding empire were at once fascinated and anxious in reading about the wider world. Armchair explorers might have confined themselves to a vicarious enjoyment of the gold-nuggets that seem to lay scattered throughout the expanding settler world, of adventures in an excitingly exoticised “bush,” and of shipwrecks and dubious impostors who sometimes seemed to return from the middle of nowhere. Readers could even indulge in a smugly self-congratulatory sense of amusement when witnessing the satirised ignorance of Flora Finching in Charles Dickens's Little Dorrit (1857), when she famously evokes semi-colonial China as such a country to live in for so long a time, and with so many lanterns and umbrellas too how very dark and wet the climate ought to be and no doubt actually is, and the sums of money that must be made by those two trades where everybody carries them and hangs them everywhere, the little shoes too and the feet screwed back in infancy is quite surprising, what a traveller you are! (152; ch. 13) With its bizarre juxtaposition of exotic references and vague gesticulations towards imperial commerce's impact at home, Flora's confusion is first and foremost funny, and readers were clearly meant to recognise it as such. In the same vein, adventure tales set in far-off islands in the Pacific or in new settlements in Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand certainly continued to feature the enticingly wild and exotic. Yet increasingly, popular fiction made it clear that we ought to know more about the world out there, and that this entailed a different sense of responsibility as well. It is tellingly the satirised, pompous characters who wildly joke about the hero's escapades “down under” in Anthony Trollope's John Caldigate (1879), while the novel instead shows that the widespread notion “that anything done in the wilds of Australia ought not ‘to count’ here, at home in England” (322; ch. 42) does no longer hold in a world that is clearly not only expanding, but contracting and narrowing in the process. But if these widely read Victorian triple-deckers show how aware readers were becoming of the British presence throughout the world – including such indisputably still mystified, exoticised places as China – and how this impacted on literature and culture “back home,” the way the Victorians thought about, imagined, and discussed their own shifting place in this changing world was markedly wide and varied. Public interest in sinology, for example, as reflected in the magazines of the time, or contradictory accounts by missionaries, military officers, and emigration societies, and how these discourses were worked into popular culture productions, all testify to an ambiguous, contested field. The depiction of settler societies in particular underwent enormous shifts in the course of the century. How the most persistent images of the expanding settler and commercial empire were generated and circulated in Victorian Britain can be gleaned from shipboard diaries, popular ballads, broadsides, as well as from more official accounts such as the manuals and pamphlets produced by emigration societies. A close analysis of this rarely discussed material, in turn, compels a reconsideration of the way literary works engaged with discourses on emigration, travel, and imperial adventure. In going beyond what we see merely reflected in Victorian canonical literature, this special issue on nineteenth-century representations of the region spanning, roughly, what we now consider the Pacific Rim allows us to get a wider perspective on what “the Victorians” made of the changing world around them.

Purpose The HAL syndrome is a sign of the pathology of analysts and commenters when they are dealing with the stakes and risks of AI, then stressing the omnipotence of technologies and expected performances, the autonomy of machine, the problems of human control, the anthropomorphism in handling usages. The perception of new uses, the capacity to appropriate the digital dimension, the very conception of applications, terminals and infrastructures are highly structured by shared vision of technologies that spread within society. Design/methodology/approach Analyzing fictional content such as “2001, a Space Odyssey” and the forward-thinking vision of AI it offers contribute to characterize the deep ambiguity of AI. HAL, the computer of 2001, helps us to understand that AI is just an umbrella term that covers very different configurations and systems. The power to inspire coming from HAL holds to its being part of an identifiable genre, fiction, a privileged container for projecting phantasms about future unknown domains. Findings The HAL syndrome leads us to relativize the omnipotence granted to technology and willingly circulated by both digital companies and transhumanist thinkers that advocate the use of science and technology – including IT – to enhance the human condition. Originality/value The HAL syndrome, as it continues to influence our minds, becomes the basis of the questioning, concerns and enthusiasms triggered by AI. Therefore, it calls for original reflection over the need and modalities of the regulation of the current technological dynamics.

Science fiction (SF) developed as a self-identified genre in Japan in the 1950s and quickly underwent a boom in the 1960s. Throughout this period, SF literature, film, and television were tightly intertwined industries, sharing production personnel, textual tropes, and audiences. As these industries entered global circulation with the hope of finding recognition and success in the international SF community, however, they encountered the contradictions of the Cold War liberal cultural system under the US nuclear umbrella. Awareness of the discursive marginalization of Japanese SF in the Euro-American dominated global SF scene manifested in Japanese texts in the twin tropes of apocalypse and anxiety surrounding embodiment. Through a close reading of two SF films—The X from Outer Space (Uchū daikaijū Girara, 1967) and Genocide (Konchū daisensō, 1968), both directed by Nihonmatsu Kazui for Shochiku Studios—and Komatsu Sakyō’s 1964 SF disaster novel Virus: The Day of Resurrection (Fukkatsu no hi), I argue that, largely excluded from discursive belonging in the global community of SF producers and consumers, Japanese authors and directors responded with texts that wiped away the contemporary status quo in spectacular apocalypses, eschatological breaks that would allow a utopian global order, as imagined by Japanese SF, to take hold.

History, though it can be revived, rewritten and altered, always functions as a source of inspiriation and encouragement for the upcoming generations. Although it is prone to be distorted, contrived and re-interpreted by the following generations yet it constantly serves as a guiding light for future generations leading them in right direction without committing the mistakes which the human forefathers had mistakenly committed. History, an umbrella term, incorporates all the facets of traditions, myths and the past of a particular nation or many nations. Intermingling all these elements Julian Barnes’s chapter ‘Parenthesis’ in A History of the World in 10 ½ Chapters is embellished with various literary techniques as narrating English history, tradition, myth and the past through postmodern narrative strategies. The novel shares many concepts and trends with postmodern skills of writing fiction. Incorporating all the above elements A History of the World in 10 ½ Chapters rigidly confirms to the trend of postmodern fiction. This paper critically evaluates the half chapter entitled ‘Parenthesis’ from Barnes’s novel, A History of the World in 10 ½ Chapters.

“Anglophone,” “Postcolonial,” Diasporic,” “Transnational,” “Ethnic,” “Multicultural,” “Cosmopolitan,” and “Emergent” are all umbrella terms that are used to lump together writers who write from the fringes of the Western center. Such writers, however various and different their literary productions are, create worlds in their stories and populate them with characters that defy and counteract many Western essentialist misconceptions about their homelands. In this context, and resonating with Salman Rushdie’s seminal statement— “the empire writes back to the center”—and Smaro Kamboureli’s “the diaspora writes back home” (30), I argue that “the emergent” also writes back as a response to the dominant mainstream discourse. This paper seeks to read Khaled Hosseini’s fiction as an exemplar of an emergent narrative that deals with Afghanistan’s ethnic self-history and voices the gory details that can only be perceived and mirrored through the lenses of an insider. Being a diasporic ethnic writer, Hosseini’s fiction discredits the Western ethnohistory that mainly offers an essentialist depiction of the writer’s homeland, typifying, thereby, the colonial discourse as dominant.

“Anglophone,” “Postcolonial,” Diasporic,” “Transnational,” “Ethnic,” “Multicultural,” “Cosmopolitan,” and “Emergent” are all umbrella terms that are used to lump together writers who write from the fringes of the Western center. Such writers, however various and different their literary productions are, create worlds in their stories and populate them with characters that defy and counteract many Western essentialist misconceptions about their homelands. In this context, and resonating with Salman Rushdie’s seminal statement— “the empire writes back to the center”—and Smaro Kamboureli’s “the diaspora writes back home” (30), I argue that “the emergent” also writes back as a response to the dominant mainstream discourse. This paper seeks to read Khaled Hosseini’s fiction as an exemplar of an emergent narrative that deals with Afghanistan’s ethnic self-history and voices the gory details that can only be perceived and mirrored through the lenses of an insider. Being a diasporic ethnic writer, Hosseini’s fiction discredits the Western ethnohistory that mainly offers an essentialist depiction of the writer’s homeland, typifying, thereby, the colonial discourse as dominant.

The global pandemic, with its multiple and far-reaching disruptions, has forced us to rethink and rewrite the world we live in. Chris Baker’s novel Kokopu Dreams (2000) sounds somehow prophetic today in the aftermath of the Covid-19 crisis. His work could be labelled as “speculative fiction” and placed among the umbrella categories of magic realism, science fiction and post-apocalyptic fiction. Set in Aotearoa New Zealand, the story focuses on the life of the few human survivors of a rapidly-spreading deadly illness caused by the rabbit calicivirus, illegally introduced into the country. The calicivirus has mutated and killed almost all the human population, who is now living in a land controlled by animals and spirits. The novel is also a template of transcultural writing, mixing Māori creation stories, Christian and Celtic mythologies, scientific issues and aspects of everyday life. Having grown up in a contact zone of different cultures―Baker is of Polynesian (Samoan), Anglo-Saxon and Celtic origin, but regards himself as a “Pacific” person―he shares that multiplicity of belonging which is a typical condition in the Pacific region today. Baker deals with a physical and cultural collective trauma, and the process of re-signification of the ethos in a bi-cultural country made of people of mixed ancestry, European and Māori. The re-elaboration of the epidemic experience is therefore based on both a Western rational representation and an indigenous mythical one.

For students, the practice of writing, illustrating, and publishing facilitates deep learning experiences, both within and beyond the discipline for which the writing is targeted. In this case study, students created books under the umbrella of a large, transdisciplinary research project: a science-based, illustrated activity book, a children’s fiction chapter book with illustrations, an adolescent novel, and two illustrated social studies activity books. Students completed the self-directed research, wrote the narratives, created the artwork, sought the advice of outside scholars and artists, and revised with discipline-specific mentors. Data include the books, mentor notes, and student-reported learning outcomes. Data reveal broad content and pedagogical skill knowledge acquisition, knowledge synthesis, and a deep level of self-authorship.

Th is essay aims to thematize the poetic and cultural-historical image of debt, embodied as memorial discourse in both fi ctional and nonfi ctional literature. Th e poetics of debt are forged within the melting pot of mythic and historical images, political and cultural aspects, and poetic and testimonial temporalities – but always sheltered in the shadow of Mnemosyne. Th us, memory remains a permanent umbrella for the diff erent faces of debt. Debt is interrogated within the arc of authors Danilo Kiš and Zef Pllumi, two leading literary and cultural personalities in 20th-century south-eastern Europe. Th eir views provide a geopoetic and cultural background for a theoretical discussion of literary and cultural facets of debt. It is argued that because debt entails memory, obligation, and care for others, it is a distinguishing mark of the human psyche. Th e theorizing prelude will be followed by literary and confessional pieces of authors but, in the end, a theorizing observation on the subject will take place.

Abstract: The present work aims to classify the genre of the books automatically using the Python programming language. A genre is a subset of art, literature, or music that has a distinct form, substance, and style. In many instances, a book can be classified as belonging to more than one genre. It's difficult to categorize a book or piece of literature as belonging to one genre over another. Many novels end up badly categorized or pushed under the super-genre umbrella of fiction since there is no clear criterion to determine how much of a book belongs to a given genre. Therefore, it's critical to develop a system for categorizing books and determining their relevance to a particular genre. Therefore, the current study tries to solve this challenge by combining various text categorization approaches and models to come up with the best solution

This paper discusses the theme of alienation and female friendship in black women in Toni Morrison’s fiction. The female bonding is a possible way to deal with alienation which is caused by various factors as racial and social discriminations. This female bonding provides back women necessary support for mutual growth and assists them in combating various social pressures. However, it is argued here that this female friendship of black women in Morrison suffers from alienation in the long run. While foregrounding the healing power of female bonding which may allow women to survive under exploitation of various kinds, this paper brings for an argument that this female companionship nevertheless is corrupted by the power of explicit or implicit patriarchal forces working under the umbrella of social institutions of class and marriage. Hence the black women need to be on guard against all those forces which endanger the consistency of their mutual companionship.

Археология, экономика, социология Шпицбергена, вопросы международного права, образ архипелага в литературе, кино и изобразительном искусстве тесно взаимосвязаны и позволяют говорить о необходимости комплексного изучения архипелага в русле региональных обществоведческих и гуманитарных исследований (area studies). В данных вступительных замечаниях и в следующей за ними подборке статей раскрываются некоторые из аспектов предлагаемой новой научной дисциплины. История освоения Шпицбергена, его топонимия и культурные ландшафты функционируют на перекрестке геополитических интересов, пытаясь закрепить определенные национальные нарративы и при этом формируя и видоизменяя историческую память. The archaeological, economic, sociological and legal aspects of Svalbard’s history have been closely interrelated and have impacted the image of the archipelago in fiction, cinema, and fine arts. Our analysis of three Svalbard-related articles claims that these approaches should be combined under the umbrella of a new area studies discipline, “Svalbard Studies.” The toponymical and geographical material discussed in the articles illustrates the need for such a discipline. The history of discovery and exploration of Svalbard, its toponymy and its cultural landscapes develop on the crossroads of geopolitical interests and national narratives, shaping and changing the historical memory of the archipelago.

This paper introduces three umbrella terms (Literal Adaptation, Spirit Adaptation, and Creative Adaptation) that define the broad approaches to creating an adaptation through the consideration of the literature of six different fields and their approaches to the study of adaptation. They are as follows: the study of Classical Mythology (a sub-set of Classics), Cultural Studies, Adaptation Theory (from Film Studies), Fan Fiction Studies (from Fan Studies), Folklore Studies, and Translation Studies. While Library and Information Studies (LIS) does occasionally deal with adaptation, often in the form of Children's Literature and/or Fairy Tales, there is no widely-accepted theory or method to doing so. Therefore it is absent from the six disciplines that were reviewed, though it has substantial cross-over with each. As scholarship becomes more interdisciplinary, juggling the terms of a variety of fields becomes more important and more challenging. This paper aims to provide three accessible terms for those interested in studying adaptions from a broad or cross-disciplinary perspective that can substitute for the lengthy and specialized vocabulary of each individual discipline. It may also provide an example for others looking to similarly synthesize a set of cross-disciplinary vocabularies.

This article explores bureaucratization and its boundaries in the framework of cutting red tape in the regulation of administrative procedures. Law is not an end in itself but should contribute to predictable and thus better relations in society. In this sense, the priority protection of public interest—which is characteristic of administrative relations between individual holders of rights and obligations and administrative bodies—presents certain limitations to simplification. Through qualitative research methods (dogmatic, normative, and comparative methods, as well as case studies), this article examines examples of debureaucratization in Slovenia provided by the amendments to the General Administrative Procedure Act. In most cases, e.g., in waiving the right to appeal or broad fiction of service, modifications were not appropriate since constitutional guarantees cannot be subject to “debureaucratization”. However, crises such as the COVID-19 pandemic call for even greater simplification. The approach to address bureaucratization as an obstacle to the economy should therefore be holistic and proportionate. Debureaucratization should be implemented in individual administrative areas rather than by an umbrella law that ensures fundamental administrative principles, and through process optimization rather than deregulation. The results of the analysis are useful for comparable, particularly Central European countries.

<p>This essay suggests that literary production post-postmodernism has not progressed to something new, but rather has returned to quintessentially modernist anxieties and modes of expression––especially renewed faith in grand narratives. The argument draws upon and coalesces two theoretical texts to help identify what I term ‘revenant modernism’ as a “symbolic space” (Flatley, 2008: 32) where a sort of “secular re-enchantment” (Landy &amp; Saler, 2009: 2) remains possible: Jonathan Flatley’s <em>Affective mapping: Melancholia and the politics of modernism</em> (2008) and <em>The re-enchantment of the world: Secular magic in a rational age</em> (2009) by Joshua Landy and Michael Saler. I then examine two recent novels––Will Self’s <em>Umbrella</em> (2012) and Eimear McBride’s <em>A girl is a half-formed thing</em> (2014)––as evidence of this return. Along the way, I tie both of these novels back to their stated modernist influence (James Joyce’s <em>Ulysses</em> [1993]) in order to show how Self and McBride’s fiction borrows from Joyce’s particular brand of postcolonial modernism.</p>

Gender violence is one of the major social issues which needs proper attention. It is one of the worst crimes of human society. ‘Gender Violence’ is an umbrella term that includes a large number of crimes directly or indirectly posed against a person’s sexuality. Several crimes like domestic violence, marital rape, human trafficking, honor killing, and other such abuses are heinous realities of the contemporary Indian society. To a large extent, the trauma of gender violence is not only physical but also psychological. Sadly, it has remained neglected for a very long period. However, by the twentieth century, voices fighting against such issues have gained wide recognition. The literary representation of sexual violence in Indian English literature is a way of giving voice to silent unheard victims and is worth critical attention. Jaishree Misra is a contemporary Indian English novelist delineating various socio-cultural issues of the contemporary Indian society through her large gamut of literary works. Her novel Afterwards (2004) deals with the life of a woman named Maya, trapped in a loveless and suffocating marriage. This research paper attempts to study the textual representation of sexual violence in the contemporary Indian English fictions with special attention to the selected literary work.

This article analyzes selected short stories in Cecelia Ahern’s thirty-narrative collection Roar (2018) to see how (and with what losses or gains) the perspectives of posthuman and postfeminist critique can be incorporated via the common dystopic umbrella into the mainstream female readership of romance literature. The dystopic worlds created by Ahern in Roar portray inequality and power imbalances with regard to gender and sex. The protagonists are mostly middle-aged women whose family and personal lives are either regulated by dystopic realities or acquire a “dystopic” dimension, the solutions to which are provided by, among other tropes, “posthuman” transformations. Roar introduces other-than-human elements, mostly corporeal alterations, in which the female bodies of Ahern’s characters become de-formed and re-formed beyond androcentric systems of value. The article raises the question of whether feminist and, to some extent, “posthuman” (speculative) approaches, need to be (and indeed should be) popularized in such an abridged way as Ahern does in her volume. The answer depends upon the identification of the target audience and their expectations. Ahern’s Roar represents popular literature intended to be sold to as many readers as possible, regardless of their education, state of knowledge, etc. Viewed from that perspective, what some critics could perceive as the collection’s structural weaknesses constitutes its utmost marketing asset. The essay argues that despite not being a structurally innovative work of art, Ahern’s book fulfils the basic requirements of the popular fiction genre, intermittently providing some extra, literary gratification and popularizing rudimentary elements of the posthuman and postfeminist thought.

The universal concern of domestic violence against women in its various manifestations came to the center of scholarly attention due to its harmful effects and consequences on the lives of thousands of women worldwide. This umbrella term that refers to any form of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse against women is the result of gender-based power imbalance and sexist inequalities in societies where patriarchal norms hold sway. However, the enormity and severity of the problem is more profound in third-world countries where governing policies are determined by traditional and religious doctrines. Afghanistan is one such third-world country where woman&rsquo;s oppression and abuse originate from the reigning religious principles that dominate its culture, society and politics. Nevertheless, there is a recent trend among literary figures of the Afghan Diaspora in highlighting the plight of Afghan women in Afghanistan through the medium of fiction. This paper therefore intends to investigate the manifestations of domestic violence against women in the Afghan context through a reading of Atiq Rahim&rsquo;s novella, A Thousand Rooms of Dream and Fear (2007). Rahimi&rsquo;s novella narrates the story of a male protagonist named Farhad and simultaneously highlights the miserable living conditions of the Afghan people, particularly the lives of Afghan women during the turbulent period of the Soviet Invasion as well as the many internal political upheavals that followed soon after. Using feminist literary criticism, the present paper shall discuss the depictions of three prominent forms of domestic violence against women as experienced by the female characters in the novella, namely physical, sexual and psychological violence that have shaped them into oppressed, silenced and traumatized individuals.

Muslim students and communities in Western sociopolitical and educational contexts confront substantive challenges of racisms, Islamophobia, and under- and misrepresentations in media as well as in literature. Creating a robust repertoire of curricular resources for teaching and learning, teacher development programs, and schooling in general offers a promise of developing classroom practices, which in turn promotes an inclusive discourse that recognizes the unique position and presence of a Muslim child. The present article examines the prospects of developing such a curriculum called Muslim Children’s Literature for inclusive schooling and teacher development programs in the context of public education in Ontario, Canada. It is situated in the larger umbrella of creating specific theory and methodology for education that lend exposure to Muslim cultures and civilizations. Development of such a literature as curricular resources addresses the questions of Muslim identities through curriculum perceptions so as to initiate critical conversations around various educational challenges that the development and dissemination of Muslim curricular resources faces today. I make a case for developing Muslim Children’s Literature to combat the challenges of having limited repertoire to engage with Muslim students in public schools and teacher candidates in teacher development programs. With the description of the necessity of such a literature, this article outlines characteristics of the proposed genre of Muslim Children’s Literature, as well as the unique position of a Muslim child in the current educational scenarios. A brief peek into select fiction on Muslim themes available in English internationally that can be used as curricular resources at elementary and secondary level serves towards reinforcing the definition of Muslim Children’s Literature. Further, these offer a sample that may be promoted under the proposed genre of Muslim Children’s Literature.

On the landscape, there are natural caves known as hells or hell graves, formed, for example, as a result of the outflow of spring water and in some cases expanded and deepened by human hands over time, as well as sandstone outcrops, feather holes or sölls or valleys, where, according to folk tales, mythological creatures-giants have lived or live: old pagans or devils. In this article, the focus is on “hell” as a traditional landscape element and places named “hell” in place lore and place creation, in original fiction based on folk tales, in tourism economy, etc. I claim that hell-themed place stories written down by folk over the ages stick to the landscape in different ways, whether it is the reuse of stories based on standard motifs in place creation, the consolidation of the landscape image embedded in traditional texts in tourism, even when the landscape itself has long since changed, etc. Scenically interesting places need attractive stories; this is one of the key themes of placemaking. As a concept, I use local place lore as an umbrella term for oral tradition in the field that can be linked to certain places in the landscape. Local place lore includes both international motifs and local legends, which in some cases have also been told as true stories. Local lore, as a type of lore that shows the connection between a person and a place, has been valued mainly because of the aspect that creates and supports local identity. However, the landscape surrounding the community is not a static but a dynamic space, in which new meanings that reflect the life of the community arise or are created, and these are also reflected in the lore related to the landscape.

ABSTRACT Four recent Scarlett Johansson films—Under the Skin, Her, Lucy, and Ghost in the Machine—work in tandem as a subversive, reactionary form of phallocentrism both disguised as and in repudiation of a posthuman ontology that heralds the obsolescence of man. These films, far from being feminist manifestos, are, upon closer examination, a male reaction to the perceived existential threat posed by posthumanism to masculinity, itself. Central to what Rosi Braidotti refers to as the “posthuman predicament” is Scarlett Johansson, whom I will address, not as a singular entity, but as a multiplicity that manifests simultaneously as a flesh-and-blood human being, as a Hollywood actor and icon, as a twenty-first-century female prototype, and, ultimately, as a rhetorical cultural construct. With her come-hither looks, husky voice, voluptuous figure, versatility, and social and political activism, Scarlett Johansson the actor presents as the ultimate liberated woman; Scarlett Johansson the cultural construct, however, performs a much different function. Informed by Johansson’s public persona and embedded in Johansson’s four characters and the fictional worlds they inhabit is an unsubtle threat to notions of male supremacy both implicit and historically manifest under the umbrella of humanism. Whether immolated, unplugged and decommissioned, vanished into the ether as a techno-consciousness, or digitally dissolved, Scarlett Johansson’s characters in these films personify man’s anxiety about the extinction of his humanist self.

In this study, sociological analysis of public profiles of Democrat Party deputies who served years between 1950 and 1960 as a ruling party deputy by using elite theory has been planned. Before sociological analysis of deputies clarifying the complex structure of first event is needed. To achieve this firstly some basic concepts explained by using general fictions. We will set our work foundation over basic ideas of political sociology on Politics, democracy, powers, the political elite and the intellectual foundation concepts. After creating the conceptual and fictional background of the subject the historical background of the period before Adnan Menderes and his Democrat Party's ruling time has been analyzed.As a sample Group Democratic Party Deputies have been selected who served years between 1950 and1960 under Grand National Assembly umbrella from research universe consist of Turkish political elite. A set of data has been created by using "Spatial Analysis Technique" on the basis of background of the political elite has been used. Parliament's institutional records, publications and websites, especially by examining the parliament albums, since 1950, the year he took over the ruling period have been evaluated and used. These data sets were analyzed by using SPSS. Analysis of 1323 deputies have been planned from the perspective of social indicators like education level, age, foreign language they know, gender and place of birth under the light of generated data in the period of three course term.When the political elite as a result of the study evaluated the required properties for the Democratic Party deputies to be born in Istanbul, he should be more educated university graduates. In other sociological characteristics, to be young and middle-aged, gender and family status in the context of male, married, with three children to outweigh. If the analyzed period, as Turkey that lack of a college education is considered the country's first university graduate of Istanbul University attorneys are frequent. Law graduate to be, people who manage to know at least one foreign language and civilian bureaucrats seem to be dominant in parliament as in the DP. ÖzetBu çalışmada, Demokrat Partinin iktidar yılları olan 1950-1960 yılları arasında görev yapmış Demokrat Parti milletvekillerinin, toplumsal profillerinin elit teorisi üzerinden sosyolojik analizinin yapılması hedeflenmiştir. Milletvekillerinin sosyolojik analizinden önce incelediğimiz olayın ilk başta karmaşık yapısını belirginleştirmek gerekmektedir. Bu doğrultuda ilk başta genel bir kurgulama yapılarak bazı temel kavramlar açıklanmıştır. Siyaset, demokrasi, erk, parti, elit, siyasi elit kavramları üzerinden siyaset sosyolojisinin fikri temelleri üzerine çalışma oturtulmuştur. Konunun kavramsal ve kurgusal alt yapısı oluşturulduktan sonra dönemin tarihsel arka planı da göz önüne alınarak Adnan Menderes ve Demokrat Parti iktidar yılları, öncesi ve dönemi ile birlikte ele alınmıştır.Türk siyasi elitlerinin oluşturduğu araştırma evreninden, örneklem kümesi olarak 1950–1960 yılları arasında, Türkiye Büyük Millet Meclisi çatısı altında görev yapmış Demokrat Parti milletvekilleri seçilmiştir. “Konumsal Analiz Tekniği” kullanılarak, TBMM’nin kurumsal kayıtları, yayınları ve web sitesi özellikle de TBMM albümleri incelenerek, Demokrat Parti’nin iktidarı devraldığı yıl olan 1950’den itibaren Demokrat Parti milletvekilliği yapmış siyasi elitlerin toplumsal özgeçmişleri temelinde bir veri seti oluşturulmuştur. Bu veri setleri SPSS kullanılarak analiz edildi. Oluşturulan veri seti ışığında, üç dönemlik bir süreçte toplam 1323 Demokrat Partili milletvekilinin mesleki dağılımları, eğitim durumları, yaş, bildikleri yabancı dil, cinsiyet ve doğum yeri gibi sosyal indikatörler açısından incelemesi planlanmıştır.Yapılan çalışma neticesinde bir siyasal elit olarak Demokrat Parti milletvekilli için aranan özellikler değerlendirildiğinde İstanbul doğumlu olmak, eğitimli dahası üniversite mezunu olmak gerekmektedir. Aranan diğer nitelikler: genç-orta yaşlı, cinsiyet ve aile durumu bağlamında erkek, evli, üç çocuklu olmak ağır basmaktadır. İncelenen dönemler itibariyle Türkiye’de üniversite eğitimi veren kurumların azlığı göz önünde bulundurulursa ülkenin ilk üniversitesi olan İstanbul Üniversitesi mezunu vekiller yoğunluktadır. Hukuk bölümü mezunu olmak, en az bir yabancı dil bilmek ve sivil-bürokrat yönetici olan kişiler DP sıralarında parlamentoda baskın olarak gözükmektedir.

The introduction to the special issue of Methis on Estonian environmentalism provides an overview of the phenomenon of environmentalism and its spread across political periods, economic formations, and regions. The essay starts by contextualising the central concepts of the issue, ‘environmentalism’ and its possible translation into Estonian as ‘keskkondlus’, and its relationship with the concept of ‘nature’. At the end of the 1980s, amidst a deepening awareness of environmental crisis, some authors announced ‘nature’ to have met its end. While this end has become widely accepted within environmental discourse, the approach clashes with the traditional thinking about the beauty of nature and its strong bonds with national identities. To foster discussion and to bridge the discursive and ideological gap between the two perceptions, the authors of the articles use the concept as an umbrella term for both paradigms. The second part of the introductory article discusses East European environmentalism, drawing attention to the research into erroneous assumptions regarding the lack of environmental activism within the Soviet Union. Before its brief heyday in the 1980s, East European environmentalism was hidden within economy, policy, society and culture. However, its roots went deeper, reaching back to 18th- and 19th-century thought, to Baltic German – and later Estonian – early voluntary associations and the value seen in the homeland and its natural objects. The founding of animal and nature protection societies in the late 19th century was an early practical outcome, and similar thought became pronounced in print culture. In early 20th century, several nature protection areas were established, and people became avid consumers of popular science journals – an interest that would continue throughout the Soviet period. The 1970s saw an environmental movement to protect the wetlands of Estonia which were in danger of being drained. Throughout the 20th century, also fiction reflected the prevailing views of nature and emerging concerns about the environment. The issue’s opening article by Ulrike Plath and Kaarel Vanamölder takes us back to the 17th century to demonstrate the possibility of climate movements more than three centuries ago. This is followed by Karl Hein’s case study that depicts in detail the emergence of animal protection in Estonia a hundred years ago in the context of local and regional history. The next four articles focus on different aspects of environmental movements in the Soviet period. Elle-Mari Talivee retells the story of the peculiar character of Atom-Boy created by the childrens’ author Vladimir Beekman who depicts in this form the various developments in the Soviet nuclear industry. This example from children’s literature is paralleled by similar environmental concerns expressed in visual arts, as outlined in Linda Kaljundi’s article. In a more theoretical take on liberal and autocratic environmental protection, Viktor Pál discusses the Soviet propagandistic use of environmental issues. Olev Liivik contextualises the protests against phosphorite mining in the 1970–80s within the wider trends in the Soviet Union, including the practice of sending letters of complaint to the media, and the various waves of environmental dissent. The discussion of a more compact case of the so-called Green Cycling Tours by Tambet Muide demonstrates the same increasingly oppositional stance that took hold in the 1980s. Regarding the post-Soviet era, Tõnno Jonuks, Lona Päll, Atko Remmel and Ulla Kadakas analyse the various conflicts that have emerged around natural and cultural objects protected by law since the 1990s. In the freestanding article of the issue, Raili Lass writes on interlinguistic and intersemiotic procedures of translation in the theatre but, as our introductory essay suggests, points of convergence may be found here with the discussion of staging of conflicts in environmental protection. In the “Theory in Translation” section Timothy Morton’s classic discussion of environmentalism is published in Ene-Reet Soovik’s translation, accompanied by introductory remarks from the translator and Kadri Tüür. The final part of the issue’s introduction offers a comparative and interdisciplinary take on the themes discussed. The revelatory nature of historical events of any era, especially natural disasters or the conditions of their unfolding, uncovers the socio-environmental relations that push people to respond. Whether or not such responses become environmental movements depends on the context that either recognises or ignores human embeddedness in the environment. Searching for such parallels connects 21st century climate activism and 17th century upheavals, animal protection in the 1920s and a hundred years later. The Soviet period allows a simultaneous scrutiny of both the limited and ideological take on the apparent lack of Soviet environmentalism as well as the methodological challenges of finding the footprints of hidden awareness and activism. Unearthing this from literature, art and the restrained presence of expert voices also provides an explanation to the sudden explosion of activism in the 1980s. The silence of the next decades further proves that there is nothing obvious in the ways in which environmentalism can take hold of society, which demands precise and detailed inquiry such as provided by the authors of this special issue.

Abstract Research has shown that the present-tense novel poses significant logical problems of narrative mediation. For this reason, the current essay addresses the question of whether, due to these problems, the heterodiegetic present-tense novel is a case of unreliable narration. To this end, the essay first discusses the sustainability of the concept of unreliability. Its point of departure is the observation that researchers have created significant confusion by applying a characterological concept to literary phenomena. Despite an overwhelming amount of pertinent essays and monographs on the topic, the central questions raised by this concept are still highly contested: To which narrative instances can we plausibly apply the category of unreliability? Precisely which narratological aspects of the mediating instance can we account for using the category of unreliability? Using the example of Holden Caulfield, the narrating protagonist from J. D. Salinger’s novel The Cather in the Rye, this essay demonstrates which difficulties arise when we impute unreliability to a complex narrative instance. The lack of conceptual precision which comes to light in this novel not only leads – as in the case of Catcher in the Rye – to contradictory assignments of the category of unreliability in one and the same text but also to the constitution of a text corpus that is primarily characterized by its heterogeneity. This undermines the intersubjective use of concepts and, as a result, further literary knowledge. Therefore, this essay argues that we should abandon the concept of unreliability in favor of more precise analytic categories, instead of making the discussion of this category even more unwieldy than it already is by adding new definitions and thereby impeding agreement within the scientific community. In order to more precisely define the logical problems of narrative mediation of the heterodiegetic present-tense novel, the essay will first define the speech acts of narration, taking the temporal relation between the narrative procedure and the narrated events as the identifying feature. In the process, the use of the simple-past tense proves to be constitutive, not only because of experience in daily life with the speech act of narration but also and above all for logical reasons. Here, the preterit retains its deictic function of referring to the past. In terms of genre, the present-tense novel resembles drama, since there too the mediating instance makes use of the present tense as the marginal text does in drama. This is why we can also no longer refer to a narrative speech act in the case of the present-tense novel. Rather, the present-tense novel creates the same impression as the speech act of live reportage in daily life. Connected to this, however, are perspectival restrictions of the spatial and temporal type (predominantly zeitdeckende Vermittlung, where narrating time matches narrated time; uncertainty about the future, spatial fixity), but primarily with respect to the representation of another consciousness (extremely limited introspection). However, because the mediating instance in the present-tense novel tends not to adhere to these restrictions, we are confronted with a paradoxical form of narrative mediation. Depending on the design of a text, the reader can either become aware of this paradox or it can remain hidden from him or her. The latter is the case in Andrea Camilleri’s crime novel Il tuttomio (2013), which aims to make the recipient as focused on the plot as possible and hence to heighten the suspense that is constitutive for the genre of the crime novel. It is probably for this reason that the present tense emerges more frequently in recent crime novels. This is also the case for Stefan Slupetzky’s novel Das Schweigen des Lemming (2006), although in this text the form of narrative mediation – in contrast to Camilleri’s text – is extremely conspicuous. The rhetorical prominence of the mediating instance and the technique of montage, coupled with the use of the present-tense, work to disrupt the illusion. Accompanying the suspense on the level of the plot is a meta-fictional layer that prompts the reader to reflect upon the conventions of the crime novel. The essay then briefly presents two texts which, each in a different way, legitimate the use of the present tense, so that the impression of a paradoxical form of narrative mediation does not at all arise. In Wojciech Kuczok’s novel Senność (2008), the mediating instance repeatedly creates the impression, through its particular behavior, that the present text is a screenplay, a genre for which the present tense is constitutive. In Vladimir Makanin’s short novel Laz (1991), on the other hand, the present tense functions as the tense which signals timelessness, thus underscoring the allegorical character of the text. Even when such strategies of legitimation significantly attenuate the paradoxical effect of present-tense usage, we nonetheless have to remain cognizant of the fact that the transgression of its restrictions raises fundamental logical problems of narrative mediation, since we cannot plausibly explain the accompanying enlargement of the mediating instance’s perceptual perspective. In this sense, we could regard the specific form of narrative mediation in the present-tense novel as a case of unreliable narration. This would entail, however, that we broaden even more the umbrella term of unreliability, as scholars have already been doing for some time now. But that would accomplish precisely the opposite of what scientific concept-building should in fact strive for: namely, to describe textual phenomena with the greatest terminological precision and thereby to ensure agreement within the scientific community.

Although fan fiction studies has historically focused overwhelmingly on (cis)female fans, research suggests that trans fans—here used as an umbrella term for gender nonnormative fans—are a significant proportion of fan fiction communities. This literature review summarizes recent studies that discuss fan fiction and trans fans, as well as research exploring various genres of fan fiction that play with gender to consider the reasons such fan fiction may appeal to trans fans specifically.

Will Self is a renowned British author, cultural thinker, journalist, broadcaster, and psychogeographer. He has authored ten novels, most recently Shark (2014) and Phone (2017); five collections of shorter fiction, and several volumes of nonfiction, most recently The Unbearable Lightness of Being a Prawn Cracker (2012). Self has been translated into over 20 languages. His novel Umbrella (2012) was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. He has frequently published in many periodicals including the Guardian, Harper's, the New York Times, the New Statesman, and London Review of Books. He is a regular presenter or panelist on BBC television shows and BBC Radio 4. His first book of short fiction, The Quantity Theory of Insanity (1991) won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize. He won the Agha Khan Prize for Fiction for Tough, Tough Toys for Tough, Tough Boys (1998), and the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction for The Butt (2008).In 2007, M. Hunter Hayes published Understanding Will Self on the subject of his life and work. Self is Professor of Contemporary Thought at Brunel University, London.This interview was conducted at the bar of the India Club Restaurant, Strand Continental Hotel, London.

The aim of this study is to discuss the potential ethical implications of the fictionalization of historical events represented across multiple media platforms – under the powerful umbrella of streaming media services en général and Netflix in particular – to examine the potential impact fictionalization has on what is culturally remembered and what is forgotten. Combining theoretical approaches from transmedia studies and cultural memory, the article addresses possible ethical conundrums involved in the Netflix historical drama series about the reign of Queen Elizabeth II: The Crown. Methodologically, the article is structured as a case study underpinned by the multidimensional analytical model proposed by Erll, chosen to explore how the blurred lines between fact and fiction of the flagship historical drama The Crown could have ethical implications for and impact on what is remembered and what is forgotten regarding recent memories of the British Royal Family. The research findings indicate that a deeper understanding of the conventions of the historical fiction genre, as well as the transmedial ramifications of streaming media productions, could potentially mitigate the ethical implications of The Crown, going above and beyond fact and fiction.

Hero and heroism have been one of the oldest themes in literatures across the world. However, Comics, movies and other media have highlighted those to a hyperbolic level, turning allegorical in make-believe and vice versa. After critical and commercial success of various adaptations of Marvel and DC comics properties there has been a wave of alternative comic adaptations like Watchmen (2020), The Boys (2020) and The Umbrella Academy (2019), marking a different take on fictional superheroes. This critical paper studies that alternative stand taken by these adaptations and theorizes how these texts are critiquing the genre itself.

ABSTRACT Social cognition is an umbrella term used to address the set of neurocognitive processes involved in effective social interaction, such as Theory of Mind and empathy, and is important for understanding of others’ intentions and actions and decision making. Narratives can serve as tools for learning social norms and understanding other people, as they involve mental simulations of social interactions. This review aimed to gather the results of current studies on the effects of reading and watching fiction movies on the development of social cognition. We included 16 publications, all of which were empirical studies. The results showed that, depending on individual factors, as well as on the specifics of the intervention, both reading and watching movies seem to influence the processes of development of social cognition, especially if associated with concomitant or subsequent activities, such as discussions. More research is needed to understand the specific details of this relationship.

The Science Fiction genre has been a means for humans to comprehend reality. A major part of the fantasies in the genre is cross-species beings of human and animal DNA. Recent studies show that in some countries the legislative framework accepts research and experimentation with guinea pigs to create cross-species beings with transhumanistic purposes. According to Bokota the umbrella term to refer to the results of the above phenomenon is Chimeras. The results of this technological process are unquestionably impressive but, who has gotten permission from these animals to use their bodies and take their genetic material for the possibility of humans to survive a bit longer than expected? This study focuses on the definition of the human, the monster, and their bodies, on bio-ethical issues that highlight the fragile equality of beings and answers to the question of whether Chimeras can be an alternative term to refer to Posthumans.

AbstractThis study investigates which organizational capabilities (OC) enable Work Integration Social Enterprises (WISEs) to pursue both social objectives and sustainable sources of revenue. It does so by focusing on the nature and use of OC that support both the social and the economic sustainability of this type of enterprise. The focus of the study is a consortium of 22 organizations that operate under the umbrella of Harmony, the fictional name of a WISE founded in Veneto, Italy. Case study analysis revealed three essential key prosocial capabilities supporting social innovation, namely the capability to engage and include stakeholders, the capability to learn from stakeholders and the capability to grow by diversification. We recommend that WISEs should establish a set of prosocial routines which enable solutions to complex neglected issues, such as the integration of the various categories of people facing specific challenges and which explicitly work towards the creation of social value.

Abstract Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1844) by Alexandre Dumas père is among the popular novels translated into many languages and scripts in the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century. The Karamanlidika (Turkish in Greek script) edition of 1882–83 has not hitherto been studied in a comparative reading with the source text. This article identifies the source text as the Turkish in Arabic script translation of Monte Kristo (1871) by Teodor Kasap, a prominent figure in Ottoman Turkish literature and press. This source text affected the ornate language in the Karamanlidika translation, in sharp contrast to the general tendency towards plainness in the Karamanlidika fiction of the time. Taking “translation” (terceme) as an umbrella term, the article analyses the practices of both Kasap and the unknown Karamanlidika translator in translating the novel. The paper also analyses the conventional paratexts of the Karamanlidika edition, such as the publication house, the dedication page and the subscriber’s list in the back of the book to understand the mechanisms of book production and circulation among the Turcophone Orthodox community. One volume published in an Armeno-Turkish publishing house indicates an intercommunal publishing activity between Christian communities in mid-19th century. The subscriber’s list from various cities of Asia Minor and the dedication to an Anatolian notable is typical in the sense it shows the dominance of the Anatolian readers in the style, language and vocabulary of the texts produced in Karamanlidika.

Key words: Srbuhi Tyusab, “Mayta”, “Araksia, or the Governess”, feminine discourse, trope, intertext, ellipsis, oxymoron This article is an attempt to examine the linguistic and stylistic stratifications, their features, and interpenetrations in the novels “Mayta” and “Araksia, or the Governess” by the Western Armenian writer Srbuhi Tyusab. The aim of the study is to identify the linguostylistic stratifications in the novels of Srbuhi Tyusab “Maita” and “Araksia, or the Governess” as a female writing technique, based on the study of the linguistic features of the prose of Western Armenian female authors of the second half of the 19th century. The problem of the study is to newly interpret the literary techniques and tools (comparisons, allegories, metaphors, oxymoron, ellipsis, morphological and syntactic tricks, etc.) used in the fiction works of Western Armenian women authors of the second half of the 19th century. In the novels of Srbuhi Tyusab, the female-male worldview and world-images are clearly emphasized. The material was analyzed in the context of the reciprocal connections and relationships between linguistics and literary studies. We used the method of comparative, linguistic, and literary anthropology, which we applied by the principle of umbrella: observing the linguistic stratifications of the mentioned novels of Srbuhi Tyusab as an identification of femininity, in one radius. The research is unprecedented as this kind of study has been done for the first time. It acquires its importance and relevance not only in terms of interdisciplinarity, but also in the context of the analysis of «women’s problems » in Armenology. In order to be faithful to the originality of the article, we used the originals of Tyusab’s novels and not the reprints.

AbstractWhat does more-than-human mean? How can we, as humans, understand that our ecology is only one of the many that do exist within the world? Furthermore, in which way should we step aside to let all ecological actors exercise their agency? And, more specifically, what should be the role of design and designers in tackling complex issues and in contributing to a major shift in thoughts? These questions fostered a reflection on the relation between possible futures and the design practice itself and set the basis for the creation of a provotype. A provotype (from “provocation” and “prototype”) is a conceptual product or an artifact whose objective is to foster reflections and provoke discussions mainly concerning social and environmental sustainability, innovations, and technologies, leaving gaps to be filled with the audience imagination.The research reported in this contribution deals with issues and questions that fall under the umbrella of the topic of alternative biopolitics in future scenarios: how can we co-design with more-than-human actors? In which way can symbiosis between different entities be achieved? What is the meaning of interspecies justice, and which should be the steps to follow to fulfill it? And, finally, maybe the most significant question to focus on: how can communication between different entities be fostered? The designed provotype consists of a fictional event (“The first Multispecies Symposium”) which takes place in 2100, further helped the researchers in opening new reflections that made it possible to experiment with participatory design and to finalize a tool that can be used to share and expand reflections about futures without hierarchies, not human-centered, sustainable progress and hope, participative futures.

"verbiage very thinly sliced and plated up real nice" (Barrett 1)IntroductionMany of us share in an obsessive collecting of cookbooks and recipes. Torn or cut from newspapers and magazines, recipes sit swelling scrapbooks with bloated, unfilled desire. They’re non-hybrid seeds, peas under the mattress, an endless cycle of reproduction. Desire and narrative are folded into each other in our drive, as humans, to create meaning. But what holds us to narrative is good writing. And what can also drive desire is image—literal as well as metaphorical—the visceral pleasure of the gaze, or looking and viewing the sensually aesthetic and the work of the imagination. Creative WritingCooking, winemaking, and food and wine writing can all be considered art. For example, James Halliday (31), the eminent Australian wine critic, posed the question “Is winemaking an art?,” answering: “Most would say so” (31). Cookbooks are stories within stories, narratives that are both factual and imagined, everyday and fantastic—created by both writer and reader from where, along with its historical, cultural and publishing context, a text gets its meaning. Creative writing, in broad terms of genre, is either fiction (imagined, made-up) or creative nonfiction (true, factual). Genre comes from the human taxonomic impulse to create order from chaos through cataloguing and classification. In what might seem overwhelming infinite variety, we establish categories and within them formulas and conventions. But genres are not necessarily stable or clear-cut, and variation in a genre can contribute to its de/trans/formation (Curti 33). Creative nonfiction includes life writing (auto/biography) and food writing among other subgenres (although these subgenres can also be part of fiction). Cookbooks sit within the creative nonfiction genre. More clearly, dietary or nutrition manuals are nonfiction, technical rather than creative. Recipe writing specifically is perhaps less an art and more a technical exercise; generally it’s nonfiction, or between that and creative nonfiction. (One guide to writing recipes is Ostmann and Baker.) Creative writing is built upon approximately five, more or less, fundamentals of practice: point of view or focalisation or who narrates, structure (plot or story, and theme), characterisation, heightened or descriptive language, setting, and dialogue (not in any order of importance). (There are many handbooks on creative writing, that will take a writer through these fundamentals.) Style or voice derives from what a writer writes about (their recurring themes), and how they write about it (their vocabulary choice, particular use of imagery, rhythm, syntax etc.). Traditionally, as a reader, and writer, you are either a plot person or character person, but you can also be interested primarily in ideas or language, and in the popular or literary.Cookbooks as Creative NonfictionCookbooks often have a sense of their author’s persona or subjectivity as a character—that is, their proclivities, lives and thus ideology, and historical, social and cultural place and time. Memoir, a slice of the author–chef/cook’s autobiography, is often explicitly part of the cookbook, or implicit in the nature of the recipes, and the para-textual material which includes the book’s presentation and publishing context, and the writer’s biographical note and acknowledgements. And in relation to the latter, here's Australian wine educator Colin Corney telling us, in his biographical note, about his nascent passion for wine: “I returned home […] stony broke. So the next day I took a job as a bottleshop assistant at Moore Park Cellars […] to tide me over—I stayed three years!” (xi). In this context, character and place, in the broadest sense, are inevitably evoked. So in conjunction with this para-textual material, recipe ingredients and instructions, visual images and the book’s production values combine to become the components for authoring a fictive narrative of self, space and time—fictive, because writing inevitably, in a broad or conceptual sense, fictionalises everything, since it can only re-present through language and only from a particular point of view.The CookbooksTo talk about the art of cookbooks, I make a judgmental (from a creative-writer's point of view) case study of four cookbooks: Lyndey Milan and Colin Corney’s Balance: Matching Food and Wine, Sean Moran’s Let It Simmer (this is the first edition; the second is titled Let It Simmer: From Bush to Beach and Onto Your Plate), Kate Lamont’s Wine and Food, and Greg Duncan Powell’s Rump and a Rough Red (this is the second edition; the first was The Pig, the Olive & the Squid: Food & Wine from Humble Beginnings) I discuss reading, writing, imaging, and designing, which, together, form the nexus for interpreting these cookbooks in particular. The choice of these books was only relatively random, influenced by my desire to see how Australia, a major wine-producing country, was faring with discussion of wine and food choices; by the presence of discursive text beyond technical presentation of recipes, and of photographs and purposefully artful design; and by familiarity with names, restaurants and/or publishers. Reading Moran's cookbook is a model of good writing in its use of selective and specific detail directed towards a particular theme. The theme is further created or reinforced in the mix of narrative, language use, images and design. His writing has authenticity: a sense of an original, distinct voice.Moran’s aphoristic title could imply many things, but, in reading the cookbook, you realise it resonates with a mindfulness that ripples throughout his writing. The aphorism, with its laidback casualness (legendary Australian), is affectively in sync with the chef’s approach. Jacques Derrida said of the aphorism that it produces “an echo of really curious, indelible power” (67).Moran’s aim for his recipes is that they be about “honest, home-style cooking” and bringing “out a little bit of the professional chef in the home cook”, and they are “guidelines” available for “sparkle” and seduction from interpretation (4). The book lives out this persona and personal proclivities. Moran’s storytellings are specifically and solely highlighted in the Contents section which structures the book via broad categories (for example, "Grains" featuring "The dance of the paella" and "Heaven" featuring "A trifle coming on" for example). In comparison, Powell uses "The Lemon", for example, as well as "The Sheep". The first level of Contents in Lamont’s book is done by broad wine styles: sparkling, light white, robust white and so on, and the second level is the recipe list in each of these sections. Lamont’s "For me, matching food and wine comes down to flavour" (xiii) is not as dramatic or expressive as Powell’s "Wine: the forgotten condiment." Although food is first in Milan and Corney’s book’s subtitle, their first content is wine, then matching food with colour and specific grape, from Sauvignon Blanc to Barbera and more. Powell claims that the third of his rules (the idea of rules is playful but not comedic) for choosing the best wine per se is to combine region with grape variety. He covers a more detailed and diversified range of grape varieties than Lamont, systematically discussing them first-up. Where Lamont names wine styles, Powell points out where wine styles are best represented in Australian states and regions in a longish list (titled “13 of the best Australian grape and region combos”). Lamont only occasionally does this. Powell discusses the minor alternative white, Arneis, and major alternative reds such as Barbera and Nebbiolo (Allen 81, 85). This engaging detail engenders a committed reader. Pinot Gris, Viognier, Sangiovese, and Tempranillo are as alternative as Lamont gets. In contrast to Moran's laidbackness, Lamont emphasises professionalism: "My greatest pleasure as a chef is knowing that guests have enjoyed the entire food and wine experience […] That means I have done my job" (xiii). Her reminders of the obvious are, nevertheless, noteworthy: "Thankfully we have moved on from white wine/white meat and red wine/red meat" (xiv). She then addresses the alterations in flavour caused by "method of cooking" and "combination of ingredients", with examples. One such is poached chicken and mango crying "out for a vibrant, zesty Riesling" (xiii): but where from, I ask? Roast chicken with herbs and garlic would favour "red wine with silky tannin" and "chocolatey flavours" (xiii): again, I ask, where from? Powell claims "a different evolution" for his book "to the average cookbook" (7). In recipes that have "a wine focus", there are no "pretty […] little salads, or lavish […] cakes" but "brown" albeit tasty food that will not require ingredients from "poncy inner-city providores", be easy to cook, and go with a cheap, budget-based wine (7). While this identity-setting is empathetic for a Powell clone, and I am envious of his skill with verbiage, he doesn’t deliver dreaming or desire. Milan and Corney do their best job in an eye-catching, informative exemplar list of food and wine matches: "Red duck curry and Barossa Valley Shiraz" for example (7), and in wine "At-a-glance" tables, telling us, for example, that the best Australian regions for Chardonnay are Margaret River and the Adelaide Hills (53). WritingThe "Introduction" to Moran’s cookbook is a slice of memoir, a portrait of a chef as a young man: the coming into being of passion, skill, and professionalism. And the introduction to the introduction is most memorable, being a loving description of his frugal Australian childhood dinners: creations of his mother’s use of manufactured, canned, and bottled substitutes-for-the-real, including Gravox and Dessert Whip (1). From his travel-based international culinary education in handmade, agrarian food, he describes "a head of buffalo mozzarella stuffed with ricotta and studded with white truffles" as "sheer beauty", "ambrosial flavour" and "edible white 'terrazzo'." The consonants b, s, t, d, and r are picked up and repeated, as are the vowels e, a, and o. Notice, too, the comparison of classic Italian food to an equally classic Italian artefact. Later, in an interactive text, questions are posed: "Who could now imagine life without this peppery salad green?" (23). Moran uses the expected action verbs of peel, mince, toss, etc.: "A bucket of tiny clams needs a good tumble under the running tap" (92). But he also uses the unexpected hug, nab, snuggle, waltz, "wave of garlic" and "raining rice." Milan and Corney display a metaphoric-language play too: the bubbles of a sparkling wine matching red meat become "the little red broom […] sweep[ing] away the […] cloying richness" (114). In contrast, Lamont’s cookbook can seem flat, lacking distinctiveness. But with a title like Wine and Food, perhaps you are not expecting much more than information, plain directness. Moran delivers recipes as reproducible with ease and care. An image of a restaurant blackboard menu with the word "chook" forestalls intimidation. Good quality, basic ingredients and knowledge of their source and season carry weight. The message is that food and drink are due respect, and that cooking is neither a stressful, grandiose nor competitive activity. While both Moran and Lamont have recipes for Duck Liver Pâté—with the exception that Lamont’s is (disturbingly, for this cook) "Parfait", Moran also has Lentil Patties, a granola, and a number of breads. Lamont has Brioche (but, granted, without the yeast, seeming much easier to make). Powell’s Plateless Pork is "mud pies for grown-ups", and you are asked to cook a "vat" of sauce. This communal meal is "a great way to spread communicable diseases", but "fun." But his passionately delivered historical information mixed with the laconic attitude of a larrikin (legendary Australian again) transform him into a sage, a step up from the monastery (Powell is photographed in dress-up friar’s habit). Again, the obvious is noteworthy in Milan and Corney’s statement that Rosé "possesses qualities of both red and white wines" (116). "On a hot summery afternoon, sitting in the sun overlooking the view … what could be better?" (116). The interactive questioning also feeds in useful information: "there is a huge range of styles" for Rosé so "[g]rape variety is usually a good guide", and "increasingly we are seeing […] even […] Chambourcin" (116). Rosé is set next to a Bouillabaisse recipe, and, empathetically, Milan and Corney acknowledge that the traditional fish soup "can be intimidating" (116). Succinctly incorporated into the recipes are simple greyscale graphs of grape "Flavour Profiles" delineating the strength on the front and back palate and tongue (103).Imaging and DesigningThe cover of Moran’s cookbook in its first edition reproduces the colours of 1930–1940's beach towels, umbrellas or sunshades in matt stripes of blue, yellow, red, and green (Australian beaches traditionally have a grass verge; and, I am told (Costello), these were the colours of his restaurant Panoroma’s original upholstery). A second edition has the same back cover but a generic front cover shifting from the location of his restaurant to the food in a new subtitle: "From Bush to Beach and onto Your Plate". The front endpapers are Sydney’s iconic Bondi Beach where Panoroma restaurant is embedded on the lower wall of an old building of flats, ubiquitous in Bondi, like a halved avocado, or a small shallow elliptic cave in one of the sandstone cliff-faces. The cookbook’s back endpapers are his bush-shack country. Surfaces, cooking equipment, table linen, crockery, cutlery and glassware are not ostentatious, but simple and subdued, in the colours and textures of nature/culture: ivory, bone, ecru, and cream; and linen, wire, wood, and cardboard. The mundane, such as a colander, is highlighted: humbleness elevated, hands at work, cooking as an embodied activity. Moran is photographed throughout engaged in cooking, quietly fetching in his slim, clean-cut, short-haired, altar-boyish good-looks, dressed casually in plain bone apron, t-shirt (most often plain white), and jeans. While some recipes are traditionally constructed, with the headnote, the list of ingredients and the discursive instructions for cooking, on occasion this is done by a double-page spread of continuous prose, inviting you into the story-telling. The typeface of Simmer varies to include a hand-written lookalike. The book also has a varied layout. Notes and small images sit on selected pages, as often as not at an asymmetric angle, with faux tape, as if stuck there as an afterthought—but an excited and enthusiastic afterthought—and to signal that what is informally known is as valuable as professional knowledge/skill and the tried, tested, and formally presented.Lamont’s publishers have laid out recipe instructions on the right-hand side (traditional English-language Western reading is top down, left to right). But when the recipe requires more than one item to be cooked, there is no repeated title; the spacing and line-up are not necessarily clear; and some immediate, albeit temporary, confusion occurs. Her recipes, alongside images of classic fine dining, carry the implication of chefing rather than cooking. She is photographed as a professional, with a chef’s familiar striped apron, and if she is not wearing a chef’s jacket, tunic or shirt, her staff are. The food is beautiful to look at and imagine, but tackling it in the home kitchen becomes a secondary thought. The left-hand section divider pages are meant to signal the wines, with the appropriate colour, and repetitive pattern of circles; but I understood this belatedly, mistaking them for retro wallpaper bemusedly. On the other hand, Powell’s bog-in-don’t-wait everyday heartiness of a communal stewed dinner at a medieval inn (Peasy Lamb looks exactly like this) may be overcooked, and, without sensuousness, uninviting. Images in Lamont’s book tend toward the predictable and anonymous (broad sweep of grape-vined landscape; large groups of people with eating and drinking utensils). The Lamont family run a vineyard, and up-market restaurants, one photographed on Perth’s river dockside. But Sean's Panoroma has a specificity about it; it hasn’t lost its local flavour in the mix with the global. (Admittedly, Moran’s bush "shack", the origin of much Panoroma produce and the destination of Panoroma compost, looks architect-designed.) Powell’s book, given "rump" and "rough" in the title, stridently plays down glitz (large type size, minimum spacing, rustic surface imagery, full-page portraits of a chicken, rump, and cabbage etc). While not over-glam, the photography in Balance may at first appear unsubtle. Images fill whole pages. But their beautifully coloured and intriguing shapes—the yellow lime of a white-wine bottle base or a sparkling wine cork beneath its cage—shift them into hyperreality. White wine in a glass becomes the edge of a desert lake; an open fig, the jaws of an alien; the flesh of a lemon after squeezing, a sea anemone. The minimal number of images is a judicious choice. ConclusionReading can be immersive, but it can also hover critically at a meta level, especially if the writer foregrounds process. A conversation starts in this exchange, the reader imagining for themselves the worlds written about. Writers read as writers, to acquire a sense of what good writing is, who writing colleagues are, where writing is being published, and, comparably, to learn to judge their own writing. Writing is produced from a combination of passion and the discipline of everyday work. To be a writer in the world is to observe and remember/record, to be conscious of aiming to see the narrative potential in an array of experiences, events, and images, or, to put it another way, "to develop the habit of art" (Jolley 20). Photography makes significant whatever is photographed. The image is immobile in a literal sense but, because of its referential nature, evocative. Design, too, is about communication through aesthetics as a sensuous visual code for ideas or concepts. (There is a large amount of scholarship on the workings of image combined with text. Roland Barthes is a place to begin, particularly about photography. There are also textbooks dealing with visual literacy or culture, only one example being Shirato and Webb.) It is reasonable to think about why there is so much interest in food in this moment. Food has become folded into celebrity culture, but, naturally, obviously, food is about our security and survival, physically and emotionally. Given that our planet is under threat from global warming which is also driving climate change, and we are facing peak oil, and alternative forms of energy are still not taken seriously in a widespread manner, then food production is under threat. Food supply and production are also linked to the growing gap between poverty and wealth, and the movement of whole populations: food is about being at home. Creativity is associated with mastery of a discipline, openness to new experiences, and persistence and courage, among other things. We read, write, photograph, and design to argue and critique, to use the imagination, to shape and transform, to transmit ideas, to celebrate living and to live more fully.References Allen, Max. The Future Makers: Australian Wines for the 21st Century. Melbourne: Hardie Grant, 2010. Barratt, Virginia. “verbiage very thinly sliced and plated up real nice.” Assignment, ENG10022 Writing from the Edge. Lismore: Southern Cross U, 2009. [lower case in the title is the author's proclivity, and subsequently published in Carson and Dettori. Eds. Banquet: A Feast of New Writing and Arts by Queer Women]Costello, Patricia. Personal conversation. 31 May 2012. Curti, Lidia. Female Stories, Female Bodies: Narrative, Identity and Representation. UK: Macmillan, 1998.Derrida, Jacques. "Fifty-Two Aphorisms for a Foreword." Deconstruction: Omnibus Volume. Eds. Andreas Apadakis, Catherine Cook, and Andrew Benjamin. New York: Rizzoli, 1989.Halliday, James. “An Artist’s Spirit.” The Weekend Australian: The Weekend Australian Magazine 13-14 Feb. (2010): 31.Jolley, Elizabeth. Central Mischief. Ringwood: Viking/Penguin 1992. Lamont, Kate. Wine and Food. Perth: U of Western Australia P, 2009. Milan, Lyndey, and Corney, Colin. Balance: Matching Food and Wine: What Works and Why. South Melbourne: Lothian, 2005. Moran, Sean. Let It Simmer. Camberwell: Lantern/Penguin, 2006. Ostmann, Barbara Gibbs, and Jane L. Baker. The Recipe Writer's Handbook. Canada: John Wiley, 2001.Powell, Greg Duncan. Rump and a Rough Red. Millers Point: Murdoch, 2010. Shirato, Tony, and Jen Webb. Reading the Visual. Crows Nest: Allen & Unwin, 2004.

Magic and art are products of human connection with the universe, offering answers to questions of meaning and working in interstices between fiction and reality. Magic can and does permeate all forms of media and is depicted as both entertaining and dangerous, as shaping world views, and as practised by a vast array of individuals and groups across cultures. Creative practices in cinema, radio, and installation art suggest that deceptive illusions created through magic techniques can be an effective means of creating compelling and engaging media experiences. It is not surprising, then, that in contemporary art forms involving mixed media and mixed (or augmented) reality the study of magic can offer valuable insights into how technologies mediate audience experiences and how artists can manipulate audience perceptions. Despite art often being described as ‘magical’ (Jones; Charlesworth), there is limited scholarly research applying the philosophical and socio-cultural construct of magic to contemporary art, leaving much to explore with regard to the intersections between magic and art. Scholars and artists have instead preferred to draw from more established bodies of theory in theatre and performance studies (Laurel), cinema (Marsh), and narrative (Murray). This article hones in on that intersection by applying the understudied principles and techniques of magicians to the interpretation and analysis of artworks by Canadian artists Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller. Making ‘magic’ here is not about the supernatural but refers to the refined practice of ‘doing tricks’, developed over thousands of years across many cultures. The aim of this article therefore is to introduce the reader to two interactive artworks through the lens of magic. Through these examples, we demonstrate the direct correlations between the principles of illusion in magic and media-based illusions in art, inviting the recognition of common ground between the equally niche spheres of magicians and contemporary artists. Cardiff and Miller are a well-known contemporary artist duo whose work exemplifies trends in audio-based performance work (Collins) and site specificity (Ross). However, their work is not generally analysed through the lens of magic. Here, we focus on it as ‘mixed reality’ art, specifically ‘augmented reality’ (in contrast to augmented virtuality), a concept that was defined by Milgram and Kishino as any case in which an otherwise real environment is ‘augmented’ by means of virtual (computer graphic) objects. Since the introduction of these terms—‘mixed reality’ and ‘augmented reality’—technologies have made many leaps across innumerable modes of media. Yet their distinction remains useful to categorise artworks and describe any mixed reality approaches that work towards “the existence of a combined pair of a real and virtual space”. In augmented reality, while “the visual as the dominant mode of perception and integration of real and virtual space” (Strauss, Fleischmann et al.), sound can be used for sensory immersion, and to play tricks on the minds of audiences. These distinctions are often critical in discussions of art, especially when “illusion plays a crucial role as it makes permeable the perceptual limit between the represented objects and the material spaces we inhabit” (Avram). Mixed reality artworks often make unique combinations of audio-visual elements, and sometimes activate other senses such as tactile and olfactory. In these works, artists use illusion to connect the embodied experience of the audience members to the electronically mediated experience of their design, which brings us back to magic. Introduction to Conjuring and Deception It is worthwhile to briefly visit the key principles of magic that most clearly tie together conjuring and mixed reality artworks: framing context, consistency, continuity, conviction, justification, surprise, and disguise. These principles are routinely used in combination by magicians to deceive audiences and are commonly referred to under the umbrella term of ‘misdirection’, defined as “that which directs the audience towards the effect and away from the method” (Lamont and Wiseman 3). Conjuring consists of “creating illusions of the impossible” (Nelms), which are comprised of a method (how the trick is achieved) and an effect (what the audience perceives). The principles that form the foundation of conjuring are centred on the creation of illusions in a theatrical context, either on stage or via close-up magic. Think of the famous genius pair of stage magicians Penn & Teller and their blockbuster magic competition television series Fool Us. Now research has revealed how these techniques can also be examined in a broader context than entertainment and across many scholarly disciplines. This research has occurred within the fields of cognitive science (Macknik et al.; Macknik & Martinez-Conde; Macknik, Martinez-Conde, et al.), psychology (Polidoro; Tatler and Kuhn) and interaction design (de Jongh Hepworth; Marchak; Tognazzini). These investigations demonstrate the significance and value of techniques drawn from conjuring across various fields. Indeed, as Macknik states, “there are specific cases in which the magician’s intuitive knowledge is superior to that of the neuroscientist” (Macknik, Mac King, et al.). A successful magic trick requires the audience to experience the effect while unaware of the method (Lamont and Wiseman). Examining the creation of illusions in terms of method and effect is not only applicable to conjuring but also resonates with other forms of media that rely on suspension of disbelief. For example, in the context of cinema, the audience should be engaged with the content on the screen rather than the presentation apparatus. In virtual environments, the aim of the developer is also generally to ensure that the user experiences the effect (immersion in the virtual world) while suppressing awareness of the medium (method). In conjuring, many approaches to deception rely on indirect reinforcement in which a situation is implied rather than stated. When magician and theorist Dariel Fitzkee describes conjuring, he suggests that implication is effective because it “seems to the spectator to be a voluntary decision on his part, uninfluenced by the magician. It is also stronger because such conclusions, reached in this manner, do not seem to be of particular importance to the performer” (97). Both these elements significantly increase conviction, reduce suspicion and are very relevant to the technique of ‘suspending disbelief’ often applied to cinema. Through suggestion, the filmmakers ensured that viewers who themselves had previously constructed a false frame would readily interpret the film document as authentic, so long as the experience did not drastically deviate from expectations. This form of deception is evident in two works by Cardiff and Miller that rely primarily on sound in careful combination with visual and spatial elements to create ambiguous elements that can make the audience question what is real and virtual. The Paradise Institute (Cardiff and Miller) and Walks (Cardiff 1991–2006) utilise the process of binaural recording whereby two microphones are placed inside the ears of a dummy head to convey realistic spatial sound simulations via headphone playback. Next, we look at these artworks as a mode of conjuring taking up methods and desired effects of the art of magic. The Paradise Institute The Paradise Institute was originally produced for the 2001 Canadian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. The work draws on the language and experience of cinema, creating a film-like experience using the illusory principles of magic. To experience the work, viewers approach a simple plywood pavilion, mount a set of stairs, and enter. We first experienced The Paradise Institute at PS1 Gallery, New York in 2001. The first illusion in a series is that this tiny dimly lit interior, complete with red carpet and two rows of velvet-covered seats, is an actual theatre. Once seated, we peer over the balcony onto a miniature replica of a grand old movie theatre created with techniques of hyper-perspective (accentuated depth and extreme angles as in a theatre set). Then we put on the headphones provided, and the projection begins. Beyond the perceptual illusion of the theatre space itself, the primary illusionary device is sound design that combines audio from the fragmented narrative depicted on screen with simulated sounds from the theatre audience. This technique is analogous to offscreen sound in cinema (Davies). Several stories run simultaneously. There is the ‘visual film’ and its accompanying soundtrack; layered over this is the ‘aural action’ of a supposed audience. The film is a mix of genres: part noir, part thriller, part sci-fi, and part experimental. What is more particular about the installation is the personal binaural surround sound that every individual in the audience experiences through the headphones. The sense of isolation each person might feel is disrupted by intrusions seemingly coming from inside the theatre. A mobile phone belonging to a member of the audience rings. A close ‘female friend’ whispers intimately in your ear: “Did you check the stove before we left?” Fiction and reality become intermingled as absorption in the film is suspended, and other realities flow in. Not knowing what to believe, you hear a collage of sounds from the soundtrack of the film you are watching, as well as from people sitting beside you. Was that really a cell phone? At one point the characters you have watched on the screen are talking behind you. (Christov-Bakargiev and Cardiff 151) The multi-layered acoustic space combines chattering and rustling from the virtual audience members seated around you, characters from the film that are sporadically transported to the objective position of the audience, all co-existing with the soundtrack of the film itself. This complex layering of sound, combined with the live ambience, creates a mixed reality environment in which the various virtual elements constantly intrude upon the audience’s perception of reality. The artists conjure an audience and theatre which are not in fact there, but the illusion is so seamless, that your perception combines reality and mediated experience. One of the principles of effective illusions within magic is the capacity to reduce suspicion during the presentation. The work effectively achieves this through a variety of methods. The most compelling aspects of the deception are the intimate conversations and incidental sounds created by the virtual audience members, particularly those seated behind you (as the source cannot be immediately verified). You cannot see, feel, smell, or touch other audience members, but you can hear them. The content is perceived as familiar (therefore suspicion regarding its veracity is reduced), and even within the hyper-real context of the microcinema, irresistibly compelling. The mechanics of the work effectively support the illusion. The installation provides a controlled acoustic space, and volume levels can be precisely adjusted. The layered sound design further assists in masking deficiencies in the technical process in much the same manner as the use of atmospheres and music in a film soundtrack. These characteristics assist in establishing a palpable simulation of acoustic reality. In The Paradise Institute, rather than place the audience in a passive position in relation to their work, Cardiff and Miller use spatial sound as a means of active engagement: “I want people to be inside the filmic experience… I want the pieces to be disconcerting in several ways so that the audience can’t just forget about their bodies for the duration of their involvement, like we do in film” (Beil and Mari 78). Walks Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller designed 24 audio and video walks between 1996 and 2019. Like magicians executing conjuring tricks, the artists use the affordances of electronic media to reveal an alternate reality. The walks, like conjuring tricks, manipulate your perceptions of reality through illusion. The walks are between five minutes and one hour long. As the artists write on their Website, the audio playback is layered with various background sounds all recorded in binaural audio which gives the feeling that those recorded sounds are present in the actual environment. In a video walk, viewers are provided with a video screen which they use to follow a film recorded in the past along the same route they are traversing in the present. Also using binaural microphones and edited to create a sense of continuous motion, the fictional world of the film blends seamlessly with the reality of the architecture and body in motion. The perceptive confusion is deepened by the dream-like narrative elements that occur in the pre-recorded film. Audience members are given a listening device and headphones at the beginning of the walk, similar to the experience of using an audio guide in a museum. At a predefined location, the audience member presses play and is guided by Cardiff’s voice narrating events that occur along a route through the physical environment. Instructions are integrated within a narrative soundscape that shapes the audiences’ perceptions of their immediate environment. The importance of this hybrid reality is highlighted by Cardiff’s own description of the work: “the sound of my footsteps, traffic, birds, and miscellaneous sound effects that have been pre-recorded on the same site as they are being heard … . The virtual recorded soundscape has to mimic the real physical one in order to create a new world as a seamless combination of the two” (Cardiff and Miller). All the walks are recorded as a spatially encoded binaural soundscape, created using microphones fitted to both ears of a mannequin. The intent is that the recording perfectly replicates the sensation of listening with two human ears. Listening back through headphones, the recording feels as ‘live’ as possible. During playback, the audience experiences the illusion of being in the same room as Cardiff’s voice and other sounds in the recording. They perceive a realistic multi-layered sonic environment comprised of the actual acoustic space they inhabit (via aural transparency of the headphones), artefacts from the same environment at a prior time, and narration provided by Cardiff’s voice, all interwoven with creative sound design. Unlike The Paradise Institute, audience members can adjust the playback level, and hence, the mix between the real and virtual elements. In other words, they may be able to hear the sound of their own footsteps or breathing in combination with the designed soundscape. Due to the intimate nature of the binaural recordings (and the timbre of Cardiff’s voice), the audience has the impression that Cardiff is present, an invisible co-traveller on the journey. The walks are successful magic tricks not only because of the perceptual realism of the sonic environments they represent but also because they are narrative-driven, propelling the audience through unknown spaces and stories. The audience, on the one hand, exists in a fictional world, while on the other hand they are placed in a paradoxical position of being at times uncertain if the sound they heard was present in physical reality or was a simulation. Discussion: Reframing Fiction as Fact in an Act of Magic These works indicate how the mechanics of the illusion (in this instance, spatial sound and visual trickery) combined with plausible virtual elements can effectively reframe an experience from a fictional simulation to fact. Even if the experience is clearly framed as fiction, the appropriate use of mechanics can present stimuli that are so compellingly real that they disrupt, even if momentarily, the way the audience interprets a mediated experience, whether it is constructed as a set (in the case of The Paradise Institute) or a streetscape (in the Walks). The conjuring trick at work here, as with The Paradise Institute, is multisensory reinforcement, “the way in which a spectator’s belief about specific matters central to the effect are reinforced” (Lamont and Wiseman 69). The audience’s suspicion may be reduced if each modality works in unison to advance the illusion. For instance, the visual representation of a virtual character is reinforced by corresponding sound, and their actions are further indicated via mechanical devices in physical space. Scholars argue that the more sensory inputs in the mediated experience, the higher the degree of perceptual realism, so long as “the information from various sources is globally consistent” (Christou and Parker 53). This is because “senses do not just provide information but also serve to confirm the ‘perceptions’ of other senses” (England 168). Multisensory integration occurs innately within the individual, and, as Macknik suggests, it “is an ongoing and dynamic property of your brain that occurs outside conscious awareness” (Macknik, Martinez-Conde, et al. 104). The multimodal nature of mixed reality experiences like Cardiff and Miller’s walks provide an example of magic applied in art. Audience members’ eyes and ears are activated, convincing their brains that fiction is reality. To be clear, the artworks discussed here are technically elegant but not overly complex or dependent on technology. This is consistent with magic acts whereby sometimes a deck of cards and a small table are the only props. In conjuring, for the most part, magicians rely on “little technology more complex than a rubber band, a square of black fabric or length of thread” (Steinmeyer 7). Identifying how the adaptability of magic can also be applied to media arts is integral to understanding its power. Effects of illusion can be achieved with relatively simple methods, such as binaural recording or hyper-perspective (not to undermine the skill in such acts of magic). As with a magician’s sleight-of-hand techniques (think of a playing card being perfectly hidden up a sleeve), an accomplished media artist also needs to use techniques of illusion flawlessly. In other words, rather than being device-centric, the principles of misdirection can be applied to suit a specific purpose but must be done skilfully. This is the very reason that Cardiff and Miller’s conjuring strategies are highly adaptive and highly successful. Conclusion: When Art Is Magic, We Are All Deceived What do these examples of magic in mixed reality artworks indicate? The works discussed draw from vast lineages of creative practice, including radio, cinema, installation, and locative media. They demonstrate that applying principles of magic to the design of artworks can create convincing mediated deceptions. They also demonstrate direct correlations between the principles of illusion in magic and media-based illusions in art. Even when an event is framed as fiction, the mechanics of the illusion could make the audience believe in an alternate reality, the very foundation of magic. Just as in conjuring, Cardiff and Miller’s tricks transform an experience into an illusion via elements of showmanship such as drama and atmosphere. In art, however, unlike a conventional magic trick, there is no climactic flurry in which the alternate reality is revealed, such as pulling a rabbit out of a seemingly empty hat. Instead, if the works succeed, the illusion is sustained and virtual characters and spaces are no longer perceived as a simulation, thus bridging reality and virtuality. Janet Cardiff is walking with you, or you are sitting in a cinema. References Avram, Horea. “The Convergence Effect: Real and Virtual Encounters in Augmented Reality Art.” M/C Journal 16.6 (2013). <https://doi.org/10.5204/mcj.735>. Beil, Ralf, and Bartomeu Marí. The Killing Machine and Other Stories 1995-2007: Janet Cardiff & George Bures Miller. Hatje Cantz, Darmstadt, 2007. Cardiff, Janet, and George Bures Miller. 2023. <https://cardiffmiller.com/>. ———. “The Affective Experience of Space.” The Oxford Handbook of Sound and Image in Western Art. 2016. 214. Cardiff, Janet, George Bures Miller, and Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev. Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works Including Collaborations with George Bures Miller. New York: PS1, 2001. Charlesworth, J.J. “The Return of Magic in Art.” Art Review 30 May 2022. <https://artreview.com/the-return-of-magic-in-art>. Collins, Rebecca Louise. “Sound, Space and Bodies: Building Relations in the Work of Invisible Flock and Atelier Bildraum.” M/C Journal 20.2 (2017). <https://doi.org/10.5204/mcj.1222>. Davies, Alexander. Magic, Mixed Realities & Misdirection. PhD Dissertation. Sydney: UNSW, 2013. Davies, Alex, and Jeffrey Koh. “Häusliches Glück: A Case Study on Deception in a Mixed Reality Environment.” Handbook of Digital Games and Entertainment Technologies. Eds. Ryohei Nakatsu, Matthias Rauterberg, and Paolo Ciancarini. Singapore: Springer Singapore, 2017. <https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-4560-52-8_18-1>. De Jongh Hepworth, Sam. “Magical Experiences in Interaction Design.” Proceedings of the 2007 Conference on Designing Pleasurable Products and Interfaces. 2007. Fitzkee, Dariel. Magic by Misdirection. London: Ravenio, 1975. Hyman, Ray. “The Psychology of Deception.” Annual Review of Psychology 40.1 (1989): 133-154. Ishii, Hiroshi, and Brygg Ullmer. “Tangible Bits: Towards Seamless Interfaces between People, Bits and Atoms.” Proceedings of the ACM SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. 1997. Jacobson, Marjory. “Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller.” Sensorium: Embodied Experience, Technology, and Contemporary Art (2006): 56-61. Jones, Jonathon. “The Top 10 Magical Artworks” The Guardian 5 June 2014. <https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/jun/05/top-10-magical-artworks>. Lamont, Peter, and Richard Wiseman. Magic in Theory: An Introduction to the Theoretical and Psychological Elements of Conjuring. U of Hertfordshire P, 2005. Laurel, Brenda. Computers as Theatre. Addison-Wesley, 2013. Macknik, Stephen L., et al. “Attention and Awareness in Stage Magic: Turning Tricks into Research.” Nature Reviews Neuroscience 9.11 (2008): 871-879. Macknik, Stephen L., and Susana Martinez-Conde. “A Perspective on 3-D Visual Illusions.” Scientific American Mind 19.5 (2008): 20-23. ———. “Real Magic: Future Studies of Magic Should Be Grounded in Neuroscience.” Nature Reviews Neuroscience 10.3 (2009): 241-241. Macknik, Stephen, Susana Martinez-Conde, and Sandra Blakeslee. Sleights of Mind: What the Neuroscience of Magic Reveals about Our Everyday Deceptions. New York: Henry Holt, 2010. Marchak, Frank M. “The Magic of Visual Interaction Design.” ACM SIGCHI Bulletin 32.2 (2000): 13-14. Marsh, Tim. “Presence as Experience: Film Informing Ways of Staying There.” Presence: Teleoperators & Virtual Environments 12.5 (2003): 11. ———. “Presence as Experience: Framework to Assess Virtual Corpsing.” Presence 2001: 4th International Workshop on Presence. Philadelphia, 2001. ———. “Staying There: An Activity-Based Approach to Narrative Design and Evaluation as an Antidote to Virtual Corpsing.” Being There: Concepts, Effects and Measurements of User Presence in Synthetic Environments. Amsterdam: Ios, 2003. 85-96. Milgram, Paul, and Fumio Kishino. “A Taxonomy of Mixed Reality Visual Displays.” IEICE TRANSACTIONS on Information and Systems 77.12 (1994): 1321-1329. Murray, Janet H. Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. Updated ed. Boston: MIT P, 2017. Polidoro, Massimo. “The Magic in the Brain: How Conjuring Works to Deceive Our Minds.” Tall Tales about the Mind & Brain: Separating Fact from Fiction. Ed. Sergio Della Sala. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007. 36-44. Ross, Christine. “Movement That Matters Historically: Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller’s 2012 Alter Bahnhof Video Walk.” Discourse 35.2 (2013): 212-227. Strauss, Wolfgang, et al. Linking between Real and Virtual Spaces. GMD Report 75, GMD – Forschungszentrum Informationstechnik GmbH, Sienna. CID, 1999. Tatler, Benjamin W., and Gustav Kuhn. “Don’t Look Now: The Magic of Misdirection.” Eye Movements. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2007. 697-714. Tognazzini, Bruce. “Principles, Techniques, and Ethics of Stage Magic and Their Application to Human Interface Design.” Proceedings of the INTERACT'93 and CHI'93 Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. 1993. 355-62.

IntroductionIn this article, I discuss the potential of sound to construct fictional spaces and build relations between bodies using two performance installations as case studies. The first is Invisible Flock’s 105+dB, a site-specific sound work which transports crowd recordings of a soccer match to alternative geographical locations. The second is Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum, an installation performance using live photography, architectural models, and ambient sound. By writing through these two works, I question how sound builds relations between bodies and across space as well as questioning the role of site within sound installation works. The potential for sound to create shared space and foster relationships between bodies, objects, and the surrounding environment is evident in recent contemporary art exhibitions. For MOMA’s Soundings: A Contemporary Score, curator Barbara London, sought to create a series of “tuned environments” rather than use headphones, emphasising the potential of sound works to envelop the gallery goer. Similarly, Sam Belinafante’s Listening, aimed to capture a sense of how sound can influence attention by choreographing the visitors’ experience towards the artworks. By using motorised technology to stagger each installation, gallery goers were led by their ears. Both London’s and Belinafante’s curatorial approaches highlight the current awareness and interest in aural space and its influence on bodies, an area I aim to contribute to with this article.Audio-based performance works consisting of narration or instructions received through headphones feature as a dominant trend within the field of theatre and performance studies. Well-known examples from the past decade include: Janet Cardiff’s The Missing Case Study B; Graeme Miller’s Linked; and Lavinia Greenlaw’s Audio Obscura. The use of sound in these works offers several possibilities: the layering of fiction onto site, the intensification, or contradiction of existing atmospheres and, in most cases, the direction of audience attention. Misha Myers uses the term ‘percipient’ to articulate this mode of engagement that relies on the active attendance of the participant to their surroundings. She states that it is the participant “whose active, embodied and sensorial engagement alters and determines [an artistic] process and its outcomes” (172-23). Indeed, audio-based works provide invaluable ways of considering how the body of the audience member might be engaged, raising important issues in relation to sound, embodiment and presence. Yet the question remains, outside of individual acoustic environments, how does sound build physical relations between bodies and across space? Within sound studies the World Soundscape Project, founded in the 1970s by R. Murray Schafer, documents the acoustic properties of cities, nature, technology and work. Collaborations between sound engineers and musicians indicated the musicality inherent in the world encouraging attunement to the acoustic characteristics of our environment. Gernot Böhme indicates the importance of personal and emotional impressions of space, experienced as atmosphere. Atmosphere, rather than being an accumulation of individual acoustic characteristics, is a total experience. In relation to sound, sensitivity to this mode of engagement is understood as a need to shift from hearing in “an instrumental sense—hearing something—into a way of taking part in the world” (221). Böhme highlights the importance of the less tangible, emotional consistency of our surrounding environment. Brandon Labelle further indicates the social potential of sound by foregrounding the emotional and psychological charges which support “event-architecture, participatory productions, and related performative aspects of space” (Acoustic Spatiality 2) these, Labelle claims enable sound to catalyse both the material world and our imaginations. Sound as felt experience and the emotional construction of space form the key focus here. Within architectural discourse, both Juhani Pallasmaa and Peter Zumthor point to atmospheric nuances and flows of energy which can cause events to furnish the more rigid physical constructs we exist between, influencing spatial quality. However, it is sensorial experience Jean-Paul Thibaud claims, including attention to light, sound, smell and texture that informs much of how we situate ourselves, contributing to the way we imaginatively construct the world we inhabit, even if only of temporary duration. To expand on this, Thibaud locates the sensorial appreciation of site between “the lived experience of people as well as the built environment of the place” (Three Dynamics 37) hinting at the presence of energetic flows. Such insights into how relations are built between bodies and objects inform the approach taken in this article, as I focus on sensorial modes of engagement to write through my own experience as listener-spectator. George Home-Cook uses the term listener-spectator to describe “an ongoing, intersensorial bodily engagement with the affordances of the theatrical environment” (147) and a mode of attending that privileges phenomenal engagement. Here, I occupy the position of the listener-spectator to attend to two installations, Invisible Flock’s 105+dB and Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum. The first is a large-scale sound installation produced for Hull UK city of culture, 2017. The piece uses audio recordings from 16 shotgun microphones positioned at the periphery of Hull City’s soccer pitch during a match on 28 November 2016. The piece relocates the recordings in public space, replaying a twenty-minute edited version through 36 speakers. The second, Bildraum, is an installation performance consisting of photographer Charlotte Bouckaert, architect Steve Salembier with sound by Duncan Speakman. The piece, with a running time of 40-minutes uses architectural models, live photography, sound and lighting to explore narrative, memory, and space. In writing through these two case studies, I aim to emphasise sensorial engagement. To do so I recognise, as Salomé Voegelin does, the limits of critical discourse to account for relations built through sound. Voegelin indicates the rift critical discourse creates between what is described and its description. In her own writing, Voegelin attempts to counteract this by using the subjective “I” to foreground the experience of a sound work as a writer-listener. Similarly, here I foreground my position as a listener-spectator and aim to evidence the criticality within the work by writing through my experience of attending thereby bringing out mood, texture, atmosphere to foreground how relations are built across space and between bodies.105+dB Invisible Flock January 2017, I arrive in Hull for Invisible Flock’s 105+dB programmed as part of Made in Hull, a series of cultural activities happening across the city. The piece takes place in Zebedee’s Yard, a pedestrianised area located between Princes Dock Street and Whitefriargate in the grounds of the former Trinity House School. From several streets, I can already hear a crowd. Sound, porous in its very nature, flows through the city expanding beyond its immediate geography bringing the notion of a fictional event into being. I look in pub windows to see which teams are playing, yet the visual clues defy what my ears tell me. Listening, as Labelle suggests is relational, it brings us into proximity with nearby occurrences, bodies and objects. Sound and in turn listening, by both an intended and unsuspecting public, lures bodies into proximity aurally bound by the promise of an event. The use of sound, combined with the physical sensation implied by the surrounding architecture serves to construct us as a group of attendees to a soccer match. This is evident as I continue my approach, passing through an archway with cobbled stones underfoot. The narrow entrance rapidly fills up with bodies and objects; push chairs, wheelchairs, umbrellas, and thick winter coats bringing us into close physical contact with one another. Individuals are reduced to a sea of heads bobbing towards the bright stadium lights now visible in the distance. The title 105+dB, refers to the volume at which the sound of an individual voice is lost amongst a crowd, accordingly my experience of being at the site of the piece further echoes this theme. The physical structure of the archway combined with the volume of bodies contributes to what Pallasmaa describes as “atmospheric perception” (231), a mode of attending to experience that engages all the senses as well as time, memory and imagination. Sound here contributes to the atmosphere provoking a shift in my listening. The importance of the listener-spectator experience is underscored by the absence of architectural structures habitually found in stadiums. The piece is staged using the bare minimum: four metal scaffolding structures on each side of the Yard support stadium lights and a high-visibility clad figure patrols the periphery. These trappings serve to evoke an essence of the original site of the recordings, the rest is furnished by the audio track played through 36 speakers situated at intervals around the space as well as the movement of other bodies. As Böhme notes: “Space is genuinely experienced by being in it, through physical presence” (179) similarly, here, it is necessary to be in the space, aurally immersed in sound and in physical proximity to other bodies moving across the Yard. Image 1: The piece is staged using the bare minimum, the rest is furnished by the audio track and movement of bodies. Image courtesy of the artists.The absence of visual clues draws attention to the importance of presence and mood, as Böhme claims: “By feeling our own presence, we feel the space in which we are present” (179). Listening-spectators actively contribute to the event-architecture as physical sensations build and are tangibly felt amongst those present, influenced by the dramaturgical structure of the audio recording. Sounds of jeering, applause and the referees’ whistle combine with occasional chants such as “come on city, come on city” marking a shared rhythm. Specific moments, such as the sound of a leather ball hitting a foot creates a sense of expectation amongst the crowd, and disappointed “ohhs” make a near-miss audibly palpable. Yet, more important than a singular sound event is the sustained sensation of being in a situation, a distinction Pallasmaa makes, foregrounding the “ephemeral and dynamic experiential fields” (235) offered by music, an argument I wish to consider in relation to this sound installation.The detail of the recording makes it possible to imagine, and almost accurately chart, the movement of the ball around the pitch. A “yeah” erupts, making it acoustically evident that a goal is scored as the sound of elation erupts through the speakers. In turn, this sensation much like Thibaud’s concept of intercorporeality, spreads amongst the bodies of the listening-spectators who fist bump, smile, clap, jeer and jump about sharing and occupying Zebedee’s Yard with physical manifestations of triumph. Through sound comes an invitation to be both physically and emotionally in the space, indicating the potential to understand, as Pallasmaa suggests, how “spaces and true architectural experiences are verbs” (231). By physically engaging with the peaks and troughs of the game, a temporary community of sorts forms. After twenty minutes, the main lights dim creating an amber glow in the space, sound is reduced to shuffling noises as the stadium fills up, or empties out (it is impossible to tell). Accordingly, Zebedee’s Yard also begins to empty. It is unclear if I am listening to the sounds in the space around me, or those on the recording as they overlap. People turn to leave, or stand and shuffle evidencing an attitude of receptiveness towards their surrounding environment and underscoring what Thibaud describes as “tuned ambiance” where a resemblance emerges “between what is felt and what is produced” (Three Dynamics 44). The piece, by replaying the crowd sounds of a soccer match across the space of Zebedee’s Yard, stages atmospheric perception. In the absence of further architectural structures, it is the sound of the crowd in the stadium and in turn an attention to our hearing and physical presence that constitutes the event. Bildraum Atelier BildraumAugust 2016, I am in Edinburgh to see Bildraum. The German word “bildraum” roughly translates as image room, and specifically relates to the part of the camera where the image is constructed. Bouckaert takes high definition images live onstage that project immediately onto the screen at the back of the space. The audience see the architectural model, the taking of the photograph, the projected image and hear both pre-recorded ambient sounds by Speakman, and live music played by Salembier generating the sensation that they are inhabiting a bildraum. Here I explore how both sound and image projection can encourage the listener-spectator to construct multiple narratives of possible events and engage their spatial imagination. Image 2: The audience see the architectural model, the taking of the photograph, the projected image and hear both live and pre-recorded sounds. Image courtesy of the artists.In Bildraum, the combination of elements (photographic, acoustic, architectural) serve to create provocative scenes which (quite literally) build multiple spaces for potential narratives. As Bouckaert asserts, “when we speak with people after the performance, they all have a different story”. The piece always begins with a scale model of the actual space. It then evolves to show other spaces such as a ‘social’ scene located in a restaurant, a ‘relaxation’ scene featuring sun loungers, an oversize palm tree and a pool as well as a ‘domestic’ scene with a staircase to another room. The use of architectural models makes the spaces presented appear as homogenous, neutral containers yet layers of sound including footsteps, people chatting, doors opening and closing, objects dropping, and an eerie soundscape serve to expand and incite the construction of imaginative possibilities. In relation to spatial imagination, Pallasmaa discusses the novel and our ability, when reading, to build all the settings of the story, as though they already existed in pre-formed realities. These imagined scenes are not experienced in two dimensions, as pictures, but in three dimensions and include both atmosphere and a sense of spatiality (239). Here, the clean, slick lines of the rooms, devoid of colour and personal clutter become personalised, yet also troubled through the sounds and shadows which appear in the photographs, adding ambiance and serving to highlight the pluralisation of space. As the piece progresses, these neat lines suffer disruption giving insight into the relations between bodies and across space. As Martin Heidegger notes, space and our occupation of space are not mutually exclusive but intertwined. Pallasmaa further reminds us that when we enter a space, space enters us and the experience is a reciprocal exchange and fusion of both subject and object (232).One image shows a table with several chairs neatly arranged around the outside. The distance between the chairs and the table is sufficient to imagine the presence of several bodies. The first image, though visually devoid of any living presence is layered with chattering sounds suggesting the presence of bodies. In the following image, the chairs have shifted position and there is a light haze, I envisage familiar social scenes where conversations with friends last long into the night. In the next image, one chair appears on top of the table, another lies tilted on the floor with raucous noise to accompany the image. Despite the absence of bodies, the minimal audio-visual provocations activate my spatial imagination and serve to suggest a correlation between physical behaviour and ambiance in everyday settings. As discussed in the previous paragraph, this highlights how space is far from a disinterested, or separate container for physical relations, rather, it underscores how social energy, sound and mood can build a dynamic presence within the built environment, one that is not in isolation but indeed in dialogue with surrounding structures. In a further scene, the seemingly fixed, stable nature of the models undergoes a sudden influx of materials as a barrage of tiny polystyrene balls appears. The image, combined with the sound suggests a large-scale disaster, or freak weather incident. The ambiguity created by the combination of sound and image indicates a hidden mobility beneath what is seen. Sound here does not announce the presence of an object, or indicate the taking place of a specific event, instead it acts as an invitation, as Voegelin notes, “not to confirm and preserve actuality but to explore possibilities” (Sonic 13). The use of sound which accompanies the image helps to underscore an exchange between the material and immaterial elements occurring within everyday life, leaving a gap for the listener-spectator to build their own narrative whilst also indicating further on goings in the depth of the visual. Image 3: The minimal audio-visual provocations serve to activate my spatial imagination. Image courtesy of the artists.The piece advances at a slow pace as each model is adjusted while lighting and objects are arranged. The previous image lingers on the projector screen, animated by the sound track which uses simple but evocative chords. This lulls me into an attentive, almost meditative state as I tune into and construct my own memories prompted by the spaces shown. The pace and rhythm that this establishes in Summerhall’s Old Lab creates a productive imaginative space. Böhme argues that atmosphere is a combination of both subjective and objective perceptions of space (16). Here, stimulated by the shifting arrangements Bouckaert and Salembier propose, I create short-lived geographies charting my lived experience and memories across a plurality of possible environments. As listener-spectator I am individually implicated as the producer of a series of invisible maps. The invitation to engage with the process of the work over 40-minutes as the building and dismantling of models and objects takes place draws attention to the sensorial flows and what Voegelin denotes as a “semantic materiality” (Sonic 53), one that might penetrate our sensibility and accompany us beyond the immediate timeframe of the work itself. The timeframe and rhythm of the piece encourages me, as listener-spectator to focus on the ambient sound track, not just as sound, but to consider the material realities of the here and now, to attend to vibrational milieus which operate beyond the surface of the visible. In doing so, I become aware of constructed actualities and of sound as a medium to get me beyond what is merely presented. ConclusionThe dynamic experiential potential of sound installations discussed from the perspective of a listener-spectator indicate how emotion is a key composite of spatial construction. Beyond the closed acoustic environments of audio-based performance works, aural space, physical proximity, and the importance of ambiance are foregrounded. Such intangible, ephemeral experiences can benefit from a writing practice that attends to these aesthetic concerns. By writing through both case studies from the position of listener-spectator, my lived experience of each work, manifested through attention to sensorial experience, have indicated how relations are built between bodies and across space. In Invisible Flock´s 105+dB sound featured as a social material binding listener-spectators to each other and catalysing a fictional relation to space. Here, sound formed temporal communities bringing bodies into contact to share in constructing and further shaping the parameters of a fictional event.In Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum the construction of architectural models combined with ambient and live sound indicated a depth of engagement to the visual, one not confined to how things might appear on the surface. The seemingly given, stable nature of familiar environments can be questioned hinting at the presence of further layers within the vibrational or atmospheric properties operating across space that might bring new or alternative realities to the forefront.In both, the correlation between the environment and emotional impressions of bodies that occupy it emerged as key in underscoring and engaging in a dialogue between ambiance and lived experience.ReferencesBildraum, Atelier. Bildraum. Old Lab, Summer Hall, Edinburgh. 18 Aug. 2016.Böhme, Gernot, and Jean-Paul Thibaud (eds.). The Aesthetics of Atmospheres. New York: Routledge, 2017.Cardiff, Janet. The Missing Case Study B. Art Angel, 1999.Home-Cook, George. Theatre and Aural Attention. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.Greenlaw, Lavinia. Audio Obscura. 2011.Bouckaert, Charlotte, and Steve Salembier. Bildraum. Brussels. 8 Oct. 2014. 18 Jan. 2017 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eueeAaIuMo0>.Daemen, Merel. “Steve Salembier & Charlotte Bouckaert.” 1 Jul. 2015. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://thissurroundingusall.com/post/122886489993/steve-salembier-charlotte-bouckaert-an-architect>. Haydon, Andrew. “Bildraum – Summerhall, Edinburgh.” Postcards from the Gods 20 Aug. 2016. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://postcardsgods.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/bildraum-summerhall-edinburgh.html>. Heidegger, Martin. “Building, Dwelling, Thinking.” Basic Writings. Ed. David Farrell Krell. Oxford: Routledge, 1978. 239-57.Hutchins, Roy. 27 Aug. 2016. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://fringereview.co.uk/review/edinburgh-fringe/2016/bildraum/>.Invisible Flock. 105+dB. Zebedee’s Yard, Made in Hull. Hull. 7 Jan. 2017. Labelle, Brandon. “Acoustic Spatiality.” SIC – Journal of Literature, Culture and Literary Translation (2012). 18 Jan. 2017 <http://hrcak.srce.hr/file/127338>.———. “Other Acoustics” OASE: Immersed - Sound & Architecture 78 (2009): 14-24.———. “Sharing Architecture: Space, Time and the Aesthetics of Pressure.” Journal of Visual Culture 10.2 (2011): 177-89.Miller, Graeme. Linked. 2003.Myers, Misha. “Situations for Living: Performing Emplacement.” Research in Drama Education 13.2 (2008): 171-80.Pallasmaa, Juhani. “Space, Place and Atmosphere. Emotion and Peripheral Perception in Architectural Experience.” Lebenswelt 4.1 (2014): 230-45.Schafer, R. Murray. The Soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World. Vermont: Destiny Books, 1994.Schevers, Bas. Bildraum (trailer) by Charlotte Bouckaert and Steve Salembier. Dec. 2014. 18 Jan. 2017 <https://vimeo.com/126676951>.Taylor, N. “Made in Hull Artists: Invisible Flock.” 6 Jan. 2017. 9 Jan. 2017 <https://www.hull2017.co.uk/discover/article/made-hull-artists-invisible-flock/>. Thibaud, Jean-Paul. “The Three Dynamics of Urban Ambiances.” Sites of Sound: of Architecture and the Ear Vol. II. Eds. B. Labelle and C. Martinho. Berlin: Errant Bodies P, 2011. 45-53.———. “Urban Ambiances as Common Ground?” 4.1 (2014): 282-95.Voegelin, Salomé. Listening to Sound and Silence: Toward a Philosophy of Sound Art. New York: Continuum, 2010.———. Sonic Possible Worlds. London: Bloomsbury, 2014.Zumthor, Peter. Thinking Architecture. Basel: Birkhäuser, 1998.———. Atmosphere: Architectural Environments – Surrounding Objects. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2006.

Animations, in their various genres, are an important amalgamation of art and technology that suggest new ways of thinking, feeling, and experiencing contemporary issues (Wells; Whitley). Animations can provide a commentary on the current planetary crisis, such as climate change, by offering a radically altered reality (Lundberg et al. 9). In the case of environmental animations, these issues become more evident because at their core is the production of knowledge, subjectivities, and speculations about the future of the planet and humanity. These problematisations usually arise from the centrality of non-human entities as narrative subjects (Starosielski). However, even in other genres of animation, such as fantasy, superhero fiction, and comedy, where non-human beings may or may not be at the narrative’s centre, it is possible to find suggestions regarding environmental issues emerging from characters, episodes, and specific events (see, for example, Vital, “Lapis Lazuli”; Vital, “Water”). Such is the case with Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir (2015–Present), where climate change is addressed in the episodes Stormy Weather 1 and Stormy Weather 2 with the supervillain Climatika, offering an original commentary on human responsibility in causing climate changes. This article examines how climate change in this animated series is constructed as black magic through these episodes, shown between Seasons 1 and 3. Black magic is understood as where people will use non-human phenomena to fulfil their dark intentions against the forces of light, often to the individuals’ benefit (Thacker). Despite its anthropocentric roots, the relationship between climate change and black magic in the animation is analysed using Jane Bennett’s concept of enchantment in the modern world. According to this concept, nature—often perceived as inert, passive, and instrumental—actively impacts on human life, regardless of human beings’ alienation from non-human entities’ affective power (Bennett). Thus, in the animation, although Aurore Beauréal, driven by selfish motivations, seeks to control time by becoming the supervillain Climatika, the effect of this manipulation proves to be completely contingent on fostering a world-without-us feeling, which has also been present in other animations and media. Negative Emotions, Akumatisation, and Black Magic Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir (Miraculous: Les aventures de Ladybug et Chat Noir) is a French 3D animated series created by Thomas Astruc, co-produced with South Korea, Japan, Italy, Brazil, and Portugal, and involving the studios Zagtoon, Method Animation, Toei Animation, SAMG Animation, SK Broadband, TF1, and Gloob. It is a superhero fiction series that tells the adventures of Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Ladybug) and Adrien Agreste (Cat Noir), two teenage students who possess jewels (Miraculous) that connect them to magical creatures (Kwamis). These characters mostly lead normal lives, keeping their superhero identities a secret (including from each other, fuelling a confused platonic love from Cat Noir for Ladybug and Marinette for Adrien). During crises, the Kwamis grant superpowers to both of them to protect Paris from the evil villain Hawk Moth (whose alter ego is Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s father). The series is one of the most popular animations today, aired in over 120 countries and winner of several international awards (Aguasanta-Regalado). Hawk Moth possesses the Butterfly Miraculous, which enables him to create akumas (butterflies with the power to sense individuals with intense negative emotions, such as anger, distress, envy, and sadness, and akumatise them). At first, this butterfly grants Moth the ability to communicate telepathically with its target when it lands on and possesses an important object of the victim. Therefore, the villain makes an irresistible proposal to grant superpowers to the victim (usually in an attempt to reverse an unfortunate situation the victim faces) and, in return, the victim is expected to defeat Ladybug and Cat Noir. Akumatisation is a clear allegorical reference to demonic possession in the mythological terms of Judeo-Christian culture, while the akumatised villains are, less evidently, related to the image of the witch in Renaissance Europe. According to Carolyn Merchant, there was a consensus in the sixteenth century that witches, by making a pact with the devil, acquired the power to alter the weather drastically, produce diseases, destroy crops, and spread famine. Furthermore, some scientists of the time connected the behaviour of witches to an excess of melancholic humour, which was related to anxieties, sadness, and other extreme negative emotions that made them vulnerable to the devil’s attacks (Merchant 140). Therefore, in the episodes Stormy Weather 1 and Stormy Weather 2 there appears to be a manifestation of two out of the three levels of possession in the akumatised character, as indicated in the main demonology manuals of the sixteenth century. The first level, which is that of individual possession, affects the victim on psychological and physical levels, and their intentions and actions become controlled or inspired by the evil spirit. The third level involves the possibility of climatological possession, with the induction of extreme weather phenomena such as droughts and floods (Thacker 62). Aurore Beauréal—the villain of episodes Stormy Weather 1 and Stormy Weather 2—transforms into Climatika, resembling the witches of Renaissance Europe with all their powers of black magic. That is, a psychological and moral disposition induces Aurore Beauréal to undergo a radical metamorphosis to gain control over the world and achieve her objectives. This world control, driven by selfish objectives, which could be achieved through technological and scientific artifices, is depicted in the series as something stemming from the darkest depths of our beings—an innate desire for dominance and control for personal ends, a form of black magic. One of the dilemmas found in superhero fiction series and films in addressing climate change is the exploitation of exceptionally catastrophic weather events but concealing the long-term human actions that lead to transformations in the environment (McGowan). The other dilemma is the simplification of the environmental issue by transferring the possibility of its resolution to a hero. One interpretation is that the hero of these texts represents the status quo of corporations that contribute to the problem, but in sponsoring these series or films are not held accountable, or the climate problem is too readily fixed (Chatterji). However, the Miraculous animation addresses these dilemmas by examining extreme weather events and placing them directly in the hands of a character who is an ordinary yet ambitious individual, and like any person has emotional instabilities. Miraculous, then, explicitly expresses the anthropogenic nature of climate change and indicates the impossibility of effectively controlling the cosmos by those who, driven by their negative desires, resort to artifices to dominate planetary forces. Finally, the efforts of the superheroes Ladybug and Cat Noir prove insufficient to prevent Climatika’s return, who emerges as even more powerful due to a set of factors that promote and intensify the negative emotions of Aurore Beauréal. Therefore, Miraculous can highlight the human face of climate change and its inability to be easily overcome. Climatika: Revenge of the Weather Witch The first season starts with the story of Aurore Beauréal, a young student who dreams of becoming the weather girl for the KIDZ+ channel. In a contest involving numerous candidates, only she and Mireille Caquet (another student) entered the final. The fact that Caquet is an extremely shy and calm young woman led Beauréal to believe that she would easily win the competition over Caquet, due to Beauréal having a more outgoing nature and assertive exploration of her physical appearance. Nevertheless, Aurore suffered an unexpected and humiliating defeat (with a difference of half a million votes) that was seen nationwide. Hawk Moth senses the vibrations of extreme anger and sadness from Aurore Beauréal and sends an akuma to her, transforming her into Climatika (Stormy Weather). The aesthetics of Climatika are related to the stereotype of the modern teenage witch in contemporary fantasy stories. She is depicted wearing a pleated mini skirt and a short dark blue blouse with puffy sleeves—a retro trend from the 1980s lending a romantic and feminine touch to the composition. The wand or the magic broomstick is replaced by an umbrella, from which she casts her weather control powers, and her expression is that of a person possessed by a demon. In this sense, there are similarities with the character Lapis Lazuli from Steven Universe, who also had an aesthetic related to the witch stereotype, but within the 1960s–1970s hippie culture. Moreover, Lapis Lazuli’s powers are associated with the occult and evil, as she can control the entire hydrological cycle (Vital, “Water”). The similarities end here, as Lapis Lazuli herself is an alien and water elemental who destabilises and disrupts the attempts of control and domination promoted by the characters representing modern science and the State. However, Climatika uses a technical device (black magic) to control the weather and achieve her revenge goals. She causes catastrophic climatic events and promotes horror in the name of a global order that satisfies her desires. The instrumentalisation that Climatika promotes through black magic subtly brings her closer to the scientists who sought to investigate and control nature for human progress during the early days of the Scientific Revolution. In the sixteenth century, scientists such as Francis Bacon commonly used metaphors involving the torture of witches and the exploitation of nature to uncover their secrets, to control and alter the world for the advancement and well-being of humans (Merchant). However, black magic, whether through a satanic or pagan path, also has anthropocentric roots, manifesting as a tool that humans can use to enforce their intentions or as an internal force available for self-benefit (Thacker 29). In the case of Climatika, the hydrological cycle was understood as a tool responsive to her emotions and supposedly at her service. The presence of the phenomenon brings it closer to the stereotype of the witch serving the forces of evil and can also act as an allegory for the scientist who fulfils the State’s or private corporations’ obscure purposes at the expense of others. Not by chance, Hawk Moth, when transforming Aurore into Climatika, proclaims, “tu vas devenir ma miss méteór” (you will become my weather girl), a sentence that plays on Aurore’s work in scientific journalism for weather forecasts, while the hidden meaning behind the statement is about the witch manipulating the weather. Climatika will boast about being the only weather girl who gets all the forecasts right (as she is the one who influences the weather events). Although Climatika takes an anthropocentric stance towards the climate, her case highlights how hydro-meteorological phenomena affect Aurore Beauréal to the point where she aspires to be the weather girl and, if not possible, to become a witch who controls the hydrological cycle. Aurore, at first, wished to be the spokesperson for meteorology, studying the weather and climate. When she fails, she aspires for more: to become the weather girl, merging herself with meteorological phenomena and using climatic factors to organise the world to satisfy her desires. She appears oblivious to the way the weather affects her, although it is central to her life. She considers herself free and in control of herself and the world. The perception of the modern world as disenchanted, characterised by reason, freedom, and control, results in an alienation from the affective power of non-human phenomena (Bennett). This alienation leads to an arrogant attitude, such as that of Aurore Beauréal, who transforms into Climatika and believes she can finally be recognised as the weather girl with her new hydrokinesis powers. However, despite all the chaos that Climatika promotes by inducing hurricanes, hailstorms, and lightning, dramatically affecting the lives of the inhabitants of Paris and all of France, she fails in the face of Ladybug and Cat Noir. Finally, Aurore will have to deal with the defeat against Mireille Caquet and public censorship for transforming into Climatika, the weather witch. Cosmic Pessimism and Planetary Catastrophe in the Return of Climatika In the seventeenth episode of the third season, there is a prime example of what Aurore Beauréal went through after being defeated and the akumatisation being undone. Her schoolmate, Chloé Bourgeois, publicly humiliates her for having low grades and not having emotional control, becoming a failed villain. Hawk Moth takes advantage of the opportunity left by Bourgeois and tells Aurore that she will always be and continue to grow in power as Climatika, transforming her once again. Being emotionally affected, Climatika’s powers amplify significantly, and she uses volcanic explosions and moves the planet away from the sun’s orbit to cool it down, destroying all of humanity and proving her true power. In this episode, Stormy Weather 2, Climatika manages to establish herself as a global threat, inducing a dramatic climate change. Fear and horror spread throughout the world as people embrace each other to stay alive in the apocalyptic cold. Even the heroes, Ladybug and Cat Noir, feel haunted by the immense power of Climatika and find themselves in an intimate moment reminiscing about all the challenges they have overcome in the past, and the growth they have experienced over time while fighting together against the forces of evil. It is in sharing these memories that they find the power to come together once again, regaining the trust and confidence that help them to face and defeat Climatika. Thus, because of suppressed affections, unfulfilled desires, the combined force of words, and extreme social and meteorological events, negative and selfish emotions emerged and re-emerged, fuelling the return of Climatika—the regional and later planetary climate threat. Moreover, in the case of Ladybug and Cat Noir, the affective power of their bodily and physical encounter generated memories, along with deep positive emotions and words of trust, affection, and unity. These provided the means to change the course of events and prevent the realisation of the climate catastrophe (they no longer felt overcome and could battle Climatika). The two episodes suggest that the emergence of the climate catastrophe is a result of the feelings of disenchantment amongst people in the world and the combination of human alienation from the affective power of things, and the power that events and things gain in their encounters worldwide. The suggestion is the development of an ethics of generosity as a response to climate change that involves sharpening the perception of the affective power of things and encounters between humans in public spaces, as well as between humans and non-humans in everyday life (Bennett). Nonetheless, the episodes Stormy Weather 1 and Stormy Weather 2 display a type of cosmic pessimism perceptible through the emotional failures and revenge of Aurore Beauréal and Climatika. Cosmic pessimism indicates distrust regarding the impossibility of controlling and organising a world that does not require order. This world does not manifest itself for us or in itself but as a world-without-us (Thacker, Cosmic). Control does not make Aurore more respected, although she is feared when she manifests as Climatika. As Climatika, she inflicts on other people the suffering caused by the catastrophic disruption of their routines due to the manifestation of the effects of climate change. Conversely, the disappointment of the double failure to become the weather girl and the subsequent bullying becomes an oppressive reality for Aurore that induces more fear and horror due to her inability of being able to organise the world according to her desires. Thus, climate change is manifested in Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir as a result of the failed attempt to control the world (represented by the metaphor of black magic) and the impossibility of organising the world according to human desires. Conclusions Ladybug and Cat Noir manage to save the day in the episodes Stormy Weather 1 and Stormy Weather 2. However, the return of Climatika manifests itself as persistence, which suggests two important points. First, heroes or exceptional individuals cannot handle the complexity involved in the climate crisis because the crisis results from multiple factors, including human emotions, under the pressure of a system emphasising competition for prominence, efficiency, and social recognition. Climatika was defeated but returned for the same reason: the primacy of the ideal of success and recognition in a universe of pure abstract value that is based on the alienation of emotions. Second, profound uncertainties arise from the current climate crisis. Anthropogenic climate change is manifested through completely contingent effects, where the expectation of controlling and ordering the world according to human desires is disrupted, resulting in a sense of cosmic pessimism due to the world-without-us feeling. The indifference of the universe to human desires becomes explicit, exposing the failure of the abstraction of self and world control—the foundation of modern ontology and capitalism. Therefore, Climatika highlights climate change as a form of black magic: an intensive attempt to control and manipulate the world driven by selfish feelings that deepen the alienation regarding the power and indifference of the elements that compose the planetary atmosphere. References Aguasanta-Regalado, Miriam E., Ángel San Martín Alonso, and Isabel M. Gallardo-Fernández. “Analysis of the Narratives with Characters That Make Ethnic Diversity Visible—Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir.” Education Sciences 13.5 (2023): 460-470. Bennett, Jane. The Enchantment of Modern Life: Attachments, Crossing, and Ethics. Princeton UP, 2016. 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