Статті в журналах з теми "Trans New Guinea Phylum"

AbstractThis paper explores the relationship between language and cultural practice in the Fataluku language community of East Timor. A Papuan language and member of what is referred to as the Trans New Guinea Phylum (TNGP) of languages, Fataluku society nevertheless exhibits many cultural ideas and practices suggesting a long period of engagement and accommodation to Austronesian cosmopolitanism. The idea that Fataluku speakers are ‘Austronesians in disguise’ points to the significance of cultural hybridity on the Austronesian boundary.

Pottery artifacts distribution and language show that Austroneslan speakers mostly settle, do activity, and interact with indigenous Papua In the coastal. Sentani Lake area is located in north part of Papua, in which Sentani language belongs to the non-Austronesian (phylum Trans New Guinea). This study is aimed to reveal the influence of Austroneslan culture in Sentani Lake area through descriptive and qualitative methods. The data is gathered by conducting surface survey, environmental observation, and ethnoarchaeological approach. The influence of Austroneslan culture in Sentani Lake area is brought through the coastal communities in Vanimo, Altape, and East Sepik Papua New Guinea. Artifacts as the evidences showing the influence of Austroneslan culture am in the form of pottery, glass bracelet, glass beads, and bronze artifacts. It is also shown through a pottery making tradition, tattoo, alcoholic drink, leadership system, and the breeding of dog, pig, and chicken. AbstrakPersebaran artefak gerabah dan bahasa menunjukan penutur Austronesia lebih banyak bermukim, beraktivitas, dan berinteraksi dengan penduduk asli Papua di pesisir. Kawasan Danau Sentani terletak di pesisir utara Papua, bahasa Sentani tergoiong dalam bahasa non-Austronesia (phylum Trans New Guinea). Tuiisan ini bertujuan untuk mengetahui pengaruh budaya Austronesia di Kawasan Danau Sentani. Tulisan ini menggunakan metode deskriptif kualitatif. Metode pengumpuian data dilakukan dengan survei permukaan tanah serta pengamatan lingkungan, serta perdekatan etnoarkeologi. Pengaruh budaya Austronesia di Kawasan Danau Sentani melaiui masyarakat pesisir di Vanimo, Aitape, dan Sepik Timur Papua Nugini. Aftefek yang menjadi bukti pengaruh budaya Austronesia yaitu gerabah, geiang kaca, manik-manik kaca, artefak pemnggu, Pengaruh iainnya yaitu tradlsi pembuatan gerabah, tradlsi tato, pembuatan minuman beralkohol, sistem kepemimpinan serta pemeiiharaan anjing, babi dan ayam.

Propolis is an aggregate of functional components found in plant resins and has been reported to exhibit valuable biological activities. This study investigated the components and antioxidant activity of propolis from Papua New Guinea. In component analysis, seven known compounds, 6-deoxyhaplopinol (1), 5-formylguaiacol (2), trans-caffeic acid (3), cis-caffeic acid (4), trans-ferulic acid (5), trans-p-coumaric acid (6), and L-kaempferitrin (7), were isolated and identified from Papua New Guinean propolis. The structure of 1 was confirmed by comparing the 13C NMR chemical shifts of the isolated and synthesized compounds. Based on component analysis, Papua New Guinean propolis may be a new type of propolis. The EtOH extracts of Papua New Guinean propolis exhibited antioxidant activity comparable to that of Baccharis and Populus propolis. This study demonstrated the potential of Papua New Guinean propolis in human health maintenance.

Australia and New Guinea (together referred to as Sahul) were linked by land for much of the late Tertiary and share many biotic elements. However, New Guinea is dominated by rainforest, and northern Australia by savannah. Resolving patterns of biotic interchange between these two regions is critical to understanding the expansion and contraction of both habitat types. The green tree frog (Litoria caerulea) has a vast range across northern and eastern Australia and New Guinea. An assessment of mitochondrial and morphological diversity in this nominal taxon in New Guinea reveals two taxa. True Litoria caerulea occurs in disjunct savannahs of the Trans-Fly, Central Province and across northern Australia, with very low genetic divergence, implying late Pleistocene connectivity. A previously unrecognised taxon is endemic to New Guinea and widespread in lowland swampy rainforest. Date estimates for the divergence of the new species suggest Pliocene connectivity across lowland tropical habitats of northern Australia and New Guinea. In contrast, the new species shows shallow phylogeographic structuring across the central mountains of New Guinea, implying recent dispersal between the northern and southern lowlands. These results emphasise that the extent and connectivity of lowland rainforest and savannah environments across northern Australia and southern New Guinea have undergone profound shifts since the late Pliocene. http://zoobank.org/urn:lsid:zoobank.org:pub:A577A415-0B71-4663-B4C1-7271B97298CD

Abstract A phenomenon often termed “optional ergative marking” is found in a number of genetically unrelated languages. Yali, a Trans-New Guinea language spoken in West Papua, shows striking similarities to optional ergative systems as described in the literature. This paper focuses on the relation between agentivity and discourse prominence, and argues in favour of a systematic distinction between semantic and syntactic contexts as conditioning factors for optional ergative marking. It further provides new evidence for the close interplay of ergative marking and what has been termed “discourse prominence” in descriptions of some other languages and shows that in Yali, optional ergative marking operates on both the global and the local level of discourse.

The diving beetle genus Neobidessodes Hendrich & Balke, 2009 contains 10 species. Nine of them were considered endemic to Australia, one of them to the Trans Fly Savanna and Grasslands Ecoregion of New Guinea island. Here, we provide the first report of one of the Australian species, Neobidessodes mjobergi (Zimmermann, 1922), from the same region of New Guinea. We suggest that more focused research will reveal the occurrence of far more Australian diving beetle species in that region of New Guinea.

AbstractAn extensive review of cephalopod fauna in the Central and North Atlantic coast of Africa was performed based on material collected during 10 research cruises in these waters. In the Canary Current Large Marine Ecosystem (CCLME) area, a total of 378,377 cephalopod specimens was collected from 1247 bottom trawl stations. Of those specimens, 300 were sampled for subsequent identification in the laboratory and found to belong to 65 different species and 23 families. After an exhaustive review of the existing literature on the cephalopods and new data obtained from the surveys, an updated checklist of 138 species was generated for the CCLME area. Our knowledge of the known geographic distribution ranges of several species has been expanded: Muusoctopus januarii has been sighted from Guinea–Bissau waters, passing through Western Sahara, to Morocco waters for the first time; Lepidoteuthis grimaldii and Octopus salutii have been sighted off Morocco waters for the first time; Austrorossia mastigophora, Abralia (Heterabralia) siedleckyi, Abralia (Pygmabralia) redfieldi and Sepiola atlantica have been cited off Western Sahara waters for the first time; Magnoteuthis magna, Abralia (Asteroteuthis) veranyi and Octopoteuthis megaptera have been sighted off Moroccan and Western Sahara waters for the first time; Ancistroteuthis lichtensteinii, Opisthoteuthis grimaldii, Onykia robsoni, Muusoctopus levis and Bathypolypus valdiviae have been cited in the Guinea–Bissau coast for the first time; the northern geographic limit of Bathypolypus ergasticus has been expanded to Morocco, Western Sahara and Mauritania and southward to Guinea–Bissau waters. The presence of Muusoctopus johnsonianus in Senegalese waters has been reported for the first time. A Chtenopteryx sicula specimen was reported in Western Sahara waters. A specimen belonging to the poorly known Cirrothauma murrayi species was found in South Moroccan waters. Amphitretus pelagicus, a probably cosmopolitan species, has been reported in the Western Sahara and Guinea–Bissau waters. Some species that were previously recorded in the area, Sepia angulata, Sepia hieronis, Heteroteuthis dagamensis, Helicocranchia joubini and Tremoctopus gelatus, were removed from the final checklist and considered to be not present in the CCLME area. Cycloteuthis akimushkini was substituted with Cycloteuthis sirventi, its senior synonym, in the final checklist. Similarly, Mastigoteuthis flammea and Mastigoteuthis grimaldii were substituted with Mastigoteuthis agassizii.

Abstract The Amele language of Papua New Guinea is one of many Trans-New Guinea languages spoken in Papua New Guinea. Amele has a negator ‘qee’ (‘q’ represents a voiced dorso-labiovelar plosive), which follows the element negated. Yet, while having verb conjugations for persons and numbers, Amele has no negative conjugation in the present tense. Typologically, some other languages, for example, Finnish, also exhibit negative conjugations of verbs, but these behaviors of the negations differ in interesting ways. This contrastive study investigates the negation of grammars in Amele (Papua New Guinea) and Finnish (Finland, Uralic), by comparing negative particles and negative verb conjugations in both of these languages, while clarifying their morphological behaviors. As such, the study describes Amele’s and Finnish’s positive-negative and present/past distinctions through their verbal morphologies and through their functional markedness in past tenses, ultimately observing these functional points in the languages.

Dispersal ability is a key factor in determining insular distributions and island community composition, yet non-vagile terrestrial organisms widely occur on oceanic islands. The landfowl (pheasants, partridges, grouse, turkeys, quails and relatives) are generally poor dispersers, but the Old World quail ( Coturnix ) are a notable exception. These birds evolved small body sizes and high-aspect-ratio wing shapes, and hence are capable of trans-continental migrations and trans-oceanic colonization. Two monotypic partridge genera, Margaroperdix of Madagascar and Anurophasis of alpine New Guinea, may represent additional examples of trans-marine dispersal in landfowl, but their body size and wing shape are typical of poorly dispersive continental species. Here, we estimate historical relationships of quail and their relatives using phylogenomics, and infer body size and wing shape evolution in relation to trans-marine dispersal events. Our results show that Margaroperdix and Anurophasis are nested within the Coturnix quail, and are each ‘island giants’ that independently evolved from dispersive, Coturnix -like ancestral populations that colonized and were subsequently isolated on Madagascar and New Guinea. This evolutionary cycle of gain and loss of dispersal ability, coupled with extinction of dispersive taxa, can result in the false appearance that non-vagile taxa somehow underwent rare oceanic dispersal.

I discuss eukaryotic deep phylogeny and reclassify the basal eukaryotic kingdom Protozoa and derived kingdom Chromista in the light of multigene trees. I transfer the formerly protozoan Heliozoa and infrakingdoms Alveolata and Rhizaria into Chromista, which is sister to kingdom Plantae and arguably originated by synergistic double internal enslavement of green algal and red algal cells. I establish new subkingdoms (Harosa; Hacrobia) for the expanded Chromista. The protozoan phylum Euglenozoa differs immensely from other eukaryotes in its nuclear genome organization (trans-spliced multicistronic transcripts), mitochondrial DNA organization, cytochrome c -type biogenesis, cell structure and arguably primitive mitochondrial protein-import and nuclear DNA prereplication machineries. The bacteria-like absence of mitochondrial outer-membrane channel Tom40 and DNA replication origin-recognition complexes from trypanosomatid Euglenozoa roots the eukaryotic tree between Euglenozoa and all other eukaryotes (neokaryotes), or within Euglenozoa. Given their unique properties, I segregate Euglenozoa from infrakingdom Excavata (now comprising only phyla Percolozoa, Loukozoa, Metamonada), grouping infrakingdoms Euglenozoa and Excavata as the ancestral protozoan subkingdom Eozoa. I place phylum Apusozoa within the derived protozoan subkingdom Sarcomastigota. Clarifying early eukaryote evolution requires intensive study of properties distinguishing Euglenozoa from neokaryotes and Eozoa from neozoa (eukaryotes except Eozoa; ancestrally defined by haem lyase).

ABSTRACTNew Guinea was settled by ancestors of present day Papuan-speaking communities 40,000 years ago. Between 3 and 5 millennia BP, waves of Austronesians (AN) followed and settled mostly on the offshore islands and along some coastal areas of the New Guinea mainland. According to a well-received view, AN Diaspora originated from Taiwan and dispersed from there to inhabit much of island Southeast Asia, Malagasy and islands of the South Pacific. Austronesian colonisation was augmented by their superior cultural traits including horticulture and marine technology. In their conquest they assimilated weaker, nomadic pre-AN aboriginal communities as was the case with the Negritos of northern Philippines; settled beside or with earlier sedentary communities as was the case in Western Melanesia; or settled on uninhabited islands in Eastern Melanesia, Polynesia, and Micronesia (Pawley & Ross, 1995). Beside demographic movements, other forces were at work. Trade-induced contact between Asia and New Guinea was in place before European contact. A trade link promoted by the Sultan of Tidor was extended to involve some communities of West New Guinea (now Irian Jaya) and the West Sepik Province some 5,000 years ago. As a result, trade items such as plumes of the kumul (bird of paradise), spices, sandalwood, aromatic barks and sea slugs from “islands of the coast of Western New Guinea “found their way into the Middle East markets about 4,000 years ago (Swadling, 1996). Other internal or external forces such as intermarriages and so on were at work also (see Bellwood, 1978). This fairly brief prehistory of what went on in the northern region of New Guinea raises questions about possible cross-cultural or cross-linguistic influences. Indeed, it does pose a challenge to those who endeavour to piece together a pre-linguistic history of lexical “ruins” found to suggest cognate relationships among languages of the northern region of New Guinea. This essay attempts to adumbrate a linguistic etymology of “loan cognates” that Abu', a Papuan language of the Torricelli Phylum of the central Sepik region, shares with AN languages. It commences with a list of lexical items and statements about their etymologies. This approach inescapably leads to a delineation of the kinds of attitudes the Abu' have towards foreign linguistic elements. The paper concludes with a typological statement about grammatical typology as an additional explanation to both the Papuan-Austronesian contact, and the trade-link theory as bases for the diffusion of areal or regional linguistic features among languages of the East Sepik and Sandaun (West Sepik) provinces.

AbstractKalam is a Trans New Guinea language of Papua New Guinea. Kalam has two distinct vowel types: full vowels /a e o/, which are of relatively long duration and stressed, and reduced central vowels, which are shorter and often unstressed, and occur predictably within word-internal consonant clusters and in monoconsonantal utterances. The predictable nature of the reduced vowels has led earlier researchers, e.g. Biggs (1963) and Pawley (1966), to suggest that they are a non-phonemic ‘consonant release’ feature, leading to lexical representations with long consonant strings and vowelless words. Here we compare Kalam to other languages with similar sound patterns and assess the implications for phonological theory in the context of Hall's (2006) typology of inserted vowels. We suggest that future work on predictable vowels should explore the extent to which clusters of properties are explained by evolutionary pathways.

SUMMARYData on the dynamics of malaria incidence, admissions and mortality and their best possible description are very important to better forecast and assess the implementation of programmes to register, monitor (e.g. by remote sensing) and control the disease, especially in endemic zones. Semi-annual and seasonal cycles in malaria rates have been observed in various countries and close similarity with cycles in the natural environment (temperature, heliogeophysical activity, etc.), host immunity and/or virulence of the parasite suggested. This study aimed at confirming previous results on malaria cyclicity by exploring whether trans-year and/or multiannual cycles might exist. The exploration of underlying chronomes (time structures) was done with raw data (without smoothing) by linear and nonlinear parametric regression models, autocorrelation, spectral (Fourier) and periodogram regression analysis. The strongest cyclical patterns of detrended malaria admissions were (i) annual period of 1·0 year (12 months or seasonality); (ii) quasi-biennial cycle of about 2·25 years; and (iii) infrannual, circadecennial cycle of about 10·3 years. The seasonal maximum occurred in May with the minimum in September. Notably, these cycles corresponded to similar cyclic components of heliogeophysical activity such as sunspot seasonality and solar activity cyclicities and well-known climate/weather oscillations. Further analyses are thus warranted to investigate such similarities. In conclusion, multicomponent cyclical dynamics of cerebral malaria admissions in Papua New Guinea were observed thus allowing more specific analyses and modelling as well as correlations with environmental factors of similar cyclicity to be explored. Such further results might also contribute to and provide more precise estimates for the forecasting and prevention, as well as the better understanding, of the dynamics and aetiology of this vector-borne disease.

The phylogeny of the Chrysomeloidea is re-assessed, with data from recently described larvae of three chrysomeloid taxa. Cladistic analyses were performed on 19 subfamilies and tribes with 56 informative characters. The tribe Megascelidini is shown to be correctly placed in Eumolpinae and the subfamily Aulacoscelidinae in Orsodacnidae, but Spilopyra and associated genera are the probable monophyletic sister-taxon of (Eumolpinae + (Lamprosomatinae + Cryptocephalinae)) and are therefore elevated to subfamily: Spilopyrinae Chapuis (= Stenomelini Chapuis, syn. nov. = Hornibiinae Crowson, syn. nov.). The genera included in Spilopyrinae are: Bohumiljania Monrós, Cheiloxena Baly, Hornius Fairmaire, Macrolema Baly, Richmondia Jacoby, Spilopyra Baly and Stenomela Blanchard. Adults and larvae of Spilopyrinae are described and a key given for the genera. The status of several genera formerly placed in association with members of the Spilopyrinae is reviewed. The subfamily Spilopyrinae has a southern trans-Pacific distribution, in Chile, New Caledonia, New Guinea and Australia, indicating an origin before the late Cretaceous break-up of Gondwana. The species feed on Sapindaceae (Spilopyra), Nothofagaceae (Hornius) and Myrtaceae (Cheiloxena, Stenomela). New keys are provided to the adults and larvae of the subfamilies of Chrysomeloidea.

Little is known of the distribution, status and systematics of Nepenthes in the Austro-Papuan region and there is some confusion about the number of species present (Clarke & Kruger 2006). A project currently being conducted by staff and students of the Australian Tropical Herbarium and James Cook University in Cairns, Queensland and Monash University, Sunway Campus, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, is seeking to redress the situation. The study area extends from northern Queensland across the lowlands of the Trans-Fly Ecoregion in Papua New Guinea and West Papua, Indonesia, in the area south of Young’s Line. This line delineates the northern margin of the Australia plate and the area is often contiguous when sea levels are lower, most recently c. 8000 years BP (see Figure 1).

Although stable and well-supported relationships are in place for the three main clades (families) of Scutigeromorpha, the interrelationships of particular taxa within the most diverse family, Scutigeridae, are less clearly resolved. Novel molecular data for taxa from Mesoamerica, the Caribbean, southern Africa, New Guinea and previously unsampled parts of the Pacific are incorporated into phylogenetic analyses. Relationships across the tree are stable under variable analytical conditions, whether these are homology-based (multiple sequence alignment versus implied alignment; untrimmed versus trimmed datasets) or method-based (parsimony versus maximum likelihood). Hypervariable regions, contrary to common belief, add phylogenetic structure to the data, as measured by the increased support for many nodes when compared with the same alignments trimmed with Gblocks. Our analyses show that a Yule-3-rate model best explained the diversification of Scutigeromorpha during their 400 million years of history. More complete molecular data for the New Guinea genus Ballonema stabilise its position as sister group to Thereuoneminae. To reconcile scutigeromorph systematics with the phylogeny, the monotypic genus Madagassophora Verhoeff, 1936, is placed in synonymy with Scutigerina Silvestri, 1901 (n. syn.), its type species M. hova becoming Scutigerina hova (de Saussure & Zehntner, 1902) new comb. (from Scutigera), and Lassophora Verhoeff, 1905, is re-established for an Afro-Malagasy clade containing Lassophora nossibei (de Saussure & Zehntner, 1902) new comb. (from Scutigera) and a newly sequenced species from Mozambique that diverged at the base of the lineage to Thereuoneminae. The dated phylogeny of Scutigeromorpha is more consistent with ancient vicariant splits between Madagascar–southern Africa and Australia–New Caledonia than with younger dispersal scenarios, though some geologically young Pacific islands that harbour lineages dating to the Cretaceous demonstrate the potential for trans-oceanic dispersal.

Despite the ongoing interest in reciprocal situations, which form a central part of our social, intellectual, and moral lives, and the linguistic encoding of such situations in different languages, studies of reciprocals in Papuan languages remain underrepresented in the reciprocal literature. The Trans New Guinea languages Mian, Amele, and Hua have a reciprocal construction in which the reciprocal subevents are expressed by individual transitive verbs plus an existential verb expressing that the reciprocal action is done together. Mian goes one step further and fuses this construction into a single verb with a reciprocal suffix -sese. The present paper is an in-depth analysis of the morphology, syntax, and semantics of reciprocal constructions in Mian, including a comparison with Amele, and an analysis of the diachronic development of the Mian reciprocal, whose origin presumably lies in a biclausal description in which the reciprocal subevents are spelled out separately and sequentially.

This paper describes structural and distributional properties of alienable and inalienable nouns in Wano, a Trans-New Guinea language spoken in Papua by about 7,000 native speakers. I define differences between alienable and inalienable nouns in §2, where it will be apparent that they can be distinguished in terms of their (i) nominal generalisation (§2.1), (ii) lexical forms (§2.2), (iii) plurality coding (§2.3), (iv) possessive constructions (§2.4), and (v) head-role in a clause (§2.5). Alienable nouns are described in §3. Then in §4, I will demonstrate that inalienable nouns are: (i) restricted on vowel-initial words, and (ii) there is a clear morphosyntax-semantics-pragmatics interface reflected in kin terminologies. The kin term for 'child', for instance, is distinguished with respect to the sex of parents. In expressing the ownership of a child, a father will use the word nabut for the English 'my child' (inflection of: {n-abut} \1s-child.of.male\) and a mother will use nayak 'my child' (inflection of: {n-ajak} \1s-child.of.female\). Terms for kinship relations, body parts, cultural items, and experiential events are inalienably coded. Finally, words that are inalienably marked will be presented in §5.

The origins of tropical southwest Pacific diversity are traditionally attributed to southeast Asia or Australia. Oceanic and fragment islands are typically colonized by lineages from adjacent continental margins, resulting in attrition of diversity with distance from the mainland. Here, we show that an exceptional tropical family of harvestmen with a trans-Pacific disjunct distribution has its origin in the Neotropics. We found in a multi-locus phylogenetic analysis that the opilionid family Zalmoxidae, which is distributed in tropical forests on both sides of the Pacific, is a monophyletic entity with basal lineages endemic to Amazonia and Mesoamerica. Indo-Pacific Zalmoxidae constitute a nested clade, indicating a single colonization event. Lineages endemic to putative source regions, including Australia and New Guinea, constitute derived groups. Divergence time estimates and probabilistic ancestral area reconstructions support a Neotropical origin of the group, and a Late Cretaceous ( ca 82 Ma) colonization of Australasia out of the Fiji Islands and/or Borneo, which are consistent with a transoceanic dispersal event. Our results suggest that the endemic diversity within traditionally defined zoogeographic boundaries might have more complex evolutionary origins than previously envisioned.

In Ustilago maydis, the causal agent of corn smut, the morphological transition from yeast to filamentous growth is inextricably linked to pathogenicity; budding haploid cells are saprobic and, upon mating of compatible strains, the fungus converts to dikaryotic filamentous growth and obligate parasitism. The filamentous dikaryon proliferates in the host plant, inducing tumor formation and undergoing additional morphological changes that eventually result in the production of melanized diploid teliospores. In an attempt to identify new trans-acting factors that regulate morphogenesis in U. maydis, we searched for the presence of common binding sequences in the promoter region of a set of 37 genes downregulated in the filamentous form. Putative cis-acting regulatory sequences fitting the consensus binding site for the Aspergillus nidulans transcription factor StuA were identified in 13 of these genes. StuA is a member of the APSES transcription factors which contain a highly conserved DNA-binding domain with a basic helix-loop-helix (bHLH)-like structure. This class of proteins comprises critical regulators of developmental processes in ascomycete fungi such as dimorphic growth, mating, and sporulation but has not been studied in any fungus of the phylum Basidiomycota. A search for StuA orthologs in the U. maydis genome identified a single closely related protein that we designated Ust1. Deletion of ust1 in budding haploid wild-type and solopathogenic strains led to filamentous growth and abolished mating, gall induction, and, consequently, in planta teliosporogenesis. Furthermore, cultures of ust1 null mutants produced abundant thick-walled, highly pigmented cells resembling teliospores which are normally produced only in planta. We showed that ssp1, a gene highly induced in teliospores produced in the host, is also abundantly expressed in cultures of ust1 null mutants containing these pigmented cells. Our results are consistent with a major role for ust1 in regulating dimorphism, virulence, and the sporulation program in U. maydis.

All trans retinoic acid (RA), derived from the oxidative metabolism of dietary retinol (vitamin A) and β carotene, contributes to the growth and differentiation of mammalian epithelial tissues. RA is rapidly cleared from the plasma and sudenly metabolized in tissues. The increase of its biological potency through inhibition of its oxidative metabolism is consistent with this.This research is part of a study to develop novel compounds as inhibitors of retinoic acid metabolism that could have potential value as anticancer agent. The investigation was done to compare the in vitro metabolism of [3H]RA by hepatic m icrosomes from several common laboratory animal species. Also, the ability of ketaconazole to inhibit RA metabolism was examined. The species studied were male rat, male New Zealand white rabbit, male albino mouse, male Syrian hamster, male Dunkin hartley guinea pig and male nude mouse. The results revealed that km and Vmax were species dependent. Among the animals, rat liver appeared to be the most active in metabolizing RA. Inhibition of RA metbolism by ketoconazole (100 µM) was very similar in the hepatic microsomes of all the species examine. Overall the results indicate that male rat hepatic microsomes represent a useful enzyme source for screening novel compounds as inhibitors of RA metabolism.

Wallace's Line demarcates the transition between the differentiated regional faunas of Asia and Australia. However, while patterns of biotic differentiation across these two continental landmasses and the intervening island groups (Wallacea) have been extensively studied, patterns of long-term dispersal and diversification across this region are less well understood. Frogmouths (Aves: Podargidae) are a relictual family of large nocturnal birds represented by three extant genera occurring, respectively, in Asia, ‘Sahul’ (Australia and New Guinea) and the Solomon Islands, thus spanning Wallace's Line. We used new mitochondrial genomes from each of the extant frogmouth genera to estimate the timeline of frogmouth evolution and dispersal across Wallace's Line. Our results suggest that the three genera diverged and dispersed during the mid-Cenozoic between approximately 30 and 40 Mya. These divergences are among the oldest inferred for any trans-Wallacean vertebrate lineage. In addition, our results reveal that the monotypic Solomons frogmouth ( Rigidipenna inexpectata ) is one of the most phylogenetically divergent endemic bird lineages in the southwest Pacific. We suggest that the contemporary distribution of exceptionally deep divergences among extant frogmouth lineages may be explained by colonization of, and subsequent long-term persistence on, island arcs in the southwest Pacific during the Oligocene. These island arcs may have provided a pathway for biotic dispersal out of both Asia and Australia that preceded the formation of extensive emergent landmasses in Wallacea by at least 10 million years.

Rice (Oryza sativa L.) plants in experimental plots in Beaumont, TX developed symptoms on leaf blades similar to white leaf streak caused by Mycovellosiela oryzae (Deighton & Shaw) Deighton (synonym Ramularia oryzae Deighton & Shaw) (1,3,4) during the late summer of 2009. Symptoms were observed on several rice cultivars and breeding lines including Cocodrie, Cypress, and Lemont. Lesions usually appeared on lower leaves and were approximately 2 to 7 mm long and linear with whitish or grayish centers surrounded by a narrow brown-or-dark brown margin. Symptoms were similar to narrow brown leaf spot caused by Cercospora janseana (Racib.) O. Const. (synonym C. oryzae Miyake) (3,4), but the centers of lesions were slightly wider (up to 2 mm). Symptoms were visible on the upper and lower leaf surfaces. Some lesions on heavily infected leaves were long (10 to 15 × 0.5 to 2 mm) whitish streaks parallel to the midrib. Leaves with typical symptoms were collected and incubated in a petri dish lined with moistened filter paper for 3 to 4 days at room temperature under a 12-h fluorescent photoperiod. Conidiophores were produced on external mycelium growing out through stomata on the lesion surface. Conidiophores were hyaline, straight, and 7 to 22 μm long and 2 to 3 μm wide with conidial scars. Conidia were washed from the lesions, diluted in sterilized distilled water, and placed on acidified potato dextrose agar. After 6 to 7 days of incubation at room temperature, slow-growing colonies were transferred onto potato dextrose agar (PDA). Three isolates were obtained from single-spore cultures. The colonies of these isolates grew similarly and very slowly on PDA and their radial growth averaged 0.8 mm/day at room temperature. The colonies were dense, grayish, and did not produce any pigments. Conidia were formed singly or in chains and measured 12 to 30 μm long. They were hyaline, straight, cylindrical, typically with no or one septum, a few with two to three septa, and had a hilum and tapered ends. Pathogenicity of these three isolates was assessed in greenhouse tests by spraying a conidial suspension (105 conidia/ml) onto 12 plants of each of the cvs. Cocodrie, Cypress and Lemont at the late tillering stage. Inoculum was obtained by harvesting conidia from the colonies grown on PDA for 3 weeks at room temperature under a 12-h fluorescent photoperiod. Plants sprayed with sterilized distilled water served as the controls. All plants were maintained in a humid chamber for 2 days and then grown in a greenhouse at 20 to 31°C. After 15 days, early lesions appeared on inoculated leaf blades; after 4 weeks, typical symptoms similar to those observed in the field developed. Control plants did not exhibit any symptoms. M. oryzae was reisolated from symptomatic plants, confirming that the disease was caused by this pathogen. To our knowledge, this is the first report of white leaf streak on rice in Texas and the second report after Louisiana (2). This disease has been reported in Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, North Borneo, Sierra Leone, and Nigeria (3,4). References: (1) F. C. Deighton and D. Shaw. Trans. Br. Mycol. Soc. 43:515, 1960. (2) A. K. M. Shahjahan et al. Plant Dis. 82:1282, 1998. (3) B. C. Sutton and A. K. M. Shahjahan. Nova Hedwigia 25:197, 1981. (4) R. K. Webster and P. S. Gunnell. Compendium of Rice Diseases. The American Phytopathological Society, St. Paul, MN, 1992.

White leaf streak, caused by Mycovellosiella oryzae (Deighton and Shaw) Deighton (syn. Ramularia oryzae), was found in Louisiana rice. The symptoms closely resemble those of narrow brown leaf spot caused by Cercospora janseana (Racib.) O. Const. (syn. C. oryzae (Miyake)), and it is difficult to distinguish between these two diseases. Initially both produce similar elongated light brown lesions, but later the lesions of white leaf streak become wider with a whitish center and are surrounded by a narrow light brown margin (2,3). The disease was first observed at the Rice Research Station, Crowley, LA, in 1996 on older leaves of the cultivar Lemont at maturity. Leaves containing the unusual lesion types were placed in a moist chamber and incubated at 28°C for 5 days. Abundant conidia were produced and the fungus was isolated on acidified potato dextrose agar (APDA) by single spore isolation and by plating infected tissues after surface sterilization in 40% Clorox for 10 to 15 min. The colonies grew slowly on APDA and were dark gray in color. The conidia formed in branched chains or singly. They were hyaline, cylindrical with tapering ends and a thick hilum; 0 to 3 septate, and 15 to 35 m long (1,3). Pathogenicity tests were conducted in the greenhouse on the Lemont and Cypress rice cultivars by spraying a conidial suspension (103–4 conidia per ml) onto leaf blades at boot stage. Conidia were produced by growing the fungus on PDA for 10 to 14 days. Inoculated plants were placed inside a humid chamber in a greenhouse and maintained for 4 to 5 weeks. Many elongated lesions similar to those observed in the field were produced 3 to 4 weeks after inoculation. Reisolation from these lesions yielded M. oryzae. With the same methods, 45 cultivars and lines were inoculated to determine their reactions to this disease. Most of the cultivars grown in the southern United States were moderately susceptible or susceptible to white leaf streak. Foreign cultivars tested, including BR-7, BR-11, Cica-4, Cica-6, Cica-7. Cica-8, Cica-9, Oryzica llanos, Rax clear, Teqing, and Tetep, were resistant. In 1997, the disease was found prevalent on many cultivars grown at the Rice Research Station, Crowley, LA. As symptoms of both white leaf streak and narrow brown leaf spot were sometimes observed on the same leaf; it is possible that the disease has been present, but not identified as a separate disease because of the similarity of the symptoms of the two diseases. A thorough survey is necessary to determine the extent of its occurrence and further studies are necessary to determine its yield loss potential. At present it appears to be a minor problem for Louisiana rice. White leaf streak has previously been recorded from Papua New Guinea on cultivated Oryza sativa, and from the Solomon Islands, Sabah, Nizeria, and Sierra Leone on cultivated O. glabberima Steudel and on wild perennial rice O. berthii A. Chev. (2). This is the first report of white leaf streak on cultivated rice in the United States. References: (1) F. C. Deighton. Mycol. Pap., CMI 144:1,1979. (2) F. C. Deighton and D. Shaw. Trans. Br. Mycol. Soc. 43: 515, 1960. (3) B. C. Sutton and A. K. M. Shahjahan. Nova Hedwigia 25:197, 1981.

Mee (also known as Kapauku, Ekari or Ekagi) is a non-Austronesian language of Wissel Lakeslanguages family of Trans New Guinea Phylum spoken in the Central Highlands of Western New Guinea or West Papua. Mee is also used to refer to its speakers. Mee has an intricate system of Tense, Aspect, Modality and other related categories as will be seen in the paper. This paper aims to discuss one of four past tenses in Mee, namely Immediate Past Tense. Two morphemes that are used- one marking definite and the other indefinite- in this tense will be referred to as necessary. The paper specifically deals with four uses of the tense.

IntroductionReproductive polymorphism and symbiotic bacteria are commonly observed in aphids, but their interaction remains largely unclear. In polymorphic aphid species (Aphis gossypii), offspring of parthenogenetic females (PFs) develops into sexuparae which produces gynoparae and males successively. Gynoparae further produces sexual females (SFs), and these sexual females mate with males to produce offspring.MethodsIn this study, we investigated the dynamic changes of symbiotic bacteria during the above-mentioned five reproductive morph switch in A. gossypii via 16S rRNA sequencing technology.ResultsThe results showed that species richness and community diversity of symbiotic bacteria in males were the highest. Proteobacteria was absolutely dominant bacterial phylum (with relative abundance of more than 90%) in the five reproductive morphs of A. gossypii, and Buchnera was absolutely dominant genus (with relative abundance of >90%), followed by Rhodococcus, Pseudomonas, and Pantoea. Male-killing symbiont Arsenophonus presented the highest relative abundance in gynoparae, a specific morph whose offsprings were exclusively sexual females. Both principal component analysis (PCA) and clustering analysis showed trans-generation similarity in microbial community structure between sexuparae and sexual females, between PFs and gynoparae. PICRUSt 2 analysis showed that symbiotic bacteria in the five reproductive morphs were mainly enriched in metabolic pathways.DiscussionReproductive morph switch induced by environmental changes might be associated with bacterial community variation and sexual polymorphism of aphids. This study provides a new perspective for further deciphering the interactions between microbes and reproductive polymorphism in host aphids.

Velar lateral sounds are rare and their acoustics and contextual effects are understudied. Positional variants of velar laterals are also rarely reported. This paper documents a previously unknown allophony pattern of the velar lateral in Mee (Trans New Guinea; Indonesia), based on an elicitation study with two speakers and a controlled set of recordings from one of the speakers. Our main dataset included carrier phrase recordings of Mee words with the velar lateral, representing the diverse set of contexts where the velar lateral occurs. Our acoustic findings suggest that the Mee velar lateral is realized as a laterally released velar stop [ɡᶫ] before front vowels, and with uvular closure followed by a fricative release [ɢʁ] before back vowels. In line with this description, we found differences in the second formant of the preceding vowel and the periodicity of the release for the two allophones. We explore the implications of our findings for the typology of velar laterals.

In this paper we document a previously unknown allophony pattern of the posterior affricate in Mee (Trans New Guinea; Indonesia). The affricate is realized as a laterally released velar stop [gʟ] before front vowels and with uvular closure followed by a fricative release [ɢʁ] before back vowels. Our description is confirmed in an acoustic study that shows differences in the second formant of the preceding vowel and the periodicity of the release for the two allophones. The interaction between the consonant's place and the following vowel challenges previous claims about the absence of major place (or C-Place) assimilation between vowels and consonants. Our OT-Analysis captures this process by postulating two agreement constraints: one requiring agreement between the release and the vowel and another -- between the closure and the release. Although there is no constraint promoting agreement between C closure place and V quality, we show that this effect can be derived from two local constraints.

ABSTRACT Group A streptococcus (GAS) produces millions of infections worldwide, including mild mucosal infections, postinfection sequelae, and life-threatening invasive diseases. During infection, GAS readily acquires nutritional iron from host heme and hemoproteins. Here, we identified a new heme importer, named SiaFGH, and investigated its role in GAS pathophysiology. The SiaFGH proteins belong to a group of transporters with an unknown ligand from the recently described family of energy coupling factors (ECFs). A siaFGH deletion mutant exhibited high streptonigrin resistance compared to the parental strain, suggesting that iron ions or an iron complex is the likely ligand. Iron uptake and inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry (ICP-MS) studies showed that the loss of siaFGH did not impact GAS import of ferric or ferrous iron, but the mutant was impaired in using hemoglobin iron for growth. Analysis of cells growing on hemoglobin iron revealed a substantial decrease in the cellular heme content in the mutant compared to the complemented strain. The induction of the siaFGH genes in trans resulted in the induction of heme uptake. The siaFGH mutant exhibited a significant impairment in murine models of mucosal colonization and systemic infection. Together, the data show that SiaFGH is a new type of heme importer that is key for GAS use of host hemoproteins and that this system is imperative for bacterial colonization and invasive infection. IMPORTANCE ECF systems are new transporters that take up various vitamins, cobalt, or nickel with a high affinity. Here, we establish the GAS SiaFGH proteins as a new ECF module that imports heme and demonstrate its importance in virulence. SiaFGH is the first heme ECF system described in bacteria. We identified homologous systems in the genomes of related pathogens from the Firmicutes phylum. Notably, GAS and other pathogens that use a SiaFGH-type importer rely on host hemoproteins for a source of iron during infection. Hence, recognizing the function of this noncanonical ABC transporter in heme acquisition and the critical role that it plays in disease has broad implications.

F 16618 is a new phenyl-pentadienoyl derivative which competitively antagonizes PAR1 giving a prevention in vitro against human platelet aggregation. The main goal of the present study was to investigate the anti-thrombotic effects of F 16618 in two models of platelet aggregation-induced arterial thrombosis: an arteriovenous shunt in anesthetized rats and a photochemical-induced carotid artery thrombosis in anesthetized guinea-pigs. Firstly, a shunt was placed between the right jugular vein and the left carotid artery using polyethylene catheters. The kinetics of thrombus formation were assessed by a thermic probe fixed in the middle of the shunt. F 16618 was administered by gavage 15 min before anesthesia. F 16618 dose-dependently increased the occlusion time from 10 to 80 mg/kg, p.o. The first effective dose was 20 mg/kg and the maximal response was found at 40 mg/kg (54 ± 14 %, P < 0.001 vs. vehicle). In addition, 29 % of the shunts remained open 20 min after unclamping in presence of F 16618 (40 mg/kg, n = 7). Similarly, a high dose of F 16618 administered i.v. significantly delayed the occlusion time (29 ± 8 %, P < 0.05) without any significant effect on the tail bleeding time (358 ± 26 sec in the presence of F 16618 vs 397 ± 38 sec in the presence of vehicle). Secondly, the intravenous activity of F 16618 (from 40 μg/kg to 630 μg/kg) was investigated in a model based on the photochemical reaction between Rose Bengal and trans-illuminated green light to induce a transluminal thrombus in a guinea-pig carotid artery. F 16618 was administered as bolus over 2 min before Rose Bengal administration, followed by a constant infusion over 15 min immediately after the source of light was turned on. F 16618 at 80 μg/kg only tended to increase the occlusion time (29 ± 36 % vs. vehicle). From the dose of 160 μg/kg, F 16618 significantly prolonged this occlusion time and the maximal effect was obtained with 320 μg/kg (bolus and infusion, 112 ± 36 %, P < 0.001 vs. vehicle). Collectively, the results demonstrate that F 16618, a new PAR1 antagonist, dose-dependently prevents platelet-induced arterial thrombosis with minor risk of bleeding by both single intravenous or oral administration.

Heat stress can have an impact on parental gamete maturation and reproduction functions. According to current research, the microbial composition of the vaginal cavity is species specific. Pregnancy, menstruation, and genital diseases have been linked to the dynamics of vaginal ecology. In this study, we characterized the vaginal microbiota and metabolites after heat stress. At the phylum level, the rabbit’s vaginal microbial composition of rabbit showed high similarity with that of humans. In the Heat group, the relative abundance of the dominant microbiota Actinobacteria, Bacteroidetes, and Proteobacteria increased, while the relative abundance of Firmicutes decreased. Furthermore, heat stress significantly increased the relative abundance of W5053, Helcococcus, Thiopseudomonas, ldiomaarina, atopostipes, and facklamia, whereas the relative abundance of 12 genera significantly decreased, including Streptococcus, UCG-005, Alistipes, [Eubacterium]_xylanophilum_group, Comamonas, RB41, Fastidiosipila, Intestinimonas, Arthrobacter, Lactobacillus, Leucobacter, and Family_xlll_AD3011_group. Besides, the relative concentrations of 158 metabolites differed significantly between the Heat and Control groups. Among them, the endocrine hormone estradiol (E2) increased in the Heat group and was positively associated with a number of metabolites such as linolelaidic acid (C18:2N6T), N-acetylsphingosine, N-oleoyl glycine, trans-petroselinic acid, syringic acid, 2-(1-adamantyl)-1-morpholinoethan-1-one, 5-OxoETE, and 16-heptadecyne-1,2,4-triol. Further, the majority of the differential metabolites were enriched in steroid biosynthesis and endocrine and other factor-regulated calcium reabsorption pathways, reflecting that heat stress may affect calcium metabolism, hormone-induced signaling, and endocrine balance of vaginal ecology. These findings provide a comprehensive depiction of rabbit vaginal ecology and reveal the effects of heat stress on the vagina via the analysis of vaginal microbiome and metabolome, which may provide a new thought for low female fertility under heat stress.

In the half-century since Shannon invented information theory… engineers have come up with brilliant ways of boiling redundancy out of information… This lets it be transmitted twice as fast (Bill Gates: 33). Shannon’s Code Puts an End to Noise The digital machine is often presented as the perfect medium for the efficient transmission of coded messages: an ever-improving machine, in which coded information travels near to the-speed-of-light. Integrated into a global network of communication, transmission is assumed to be friction-free – everything and everybody are just a click away. Indeed, the old problem of signal interference is subdued by the magnum opus of communication engineering – Shannon’s noiseless channel – a cure for the undesirable uncertainties of message sending (Shannon and Weaver 19). For that reason alone, the digitally enhanced fidelity of Shannon’s digital code, not only heralds a new age of communication, but also marks the end of the problem of noise. In effect, his mathematical theory of communication, establishes a highly effective coding mechanism that travels from sender to receiver, overcoming geographic constraint and the deafening raw of the analogue milieu. This makes the theory itself the substratum of the digital communication utopia, since Shannon’s conquest of noise has solved the reliability problem of code, allowing us to focus on the rapidity and fecundity of our messages. However, despite the ingenuity of the noiseless channel, its subsequent rapid expansion into a vast network of machines means that both senders and receivers pay a price for Shannon’s brilliance. The speed and boundless reproducibility of digital code outperforms our physical capacity to observe it. In this way, transmission works behind the scenes, becoming increasingly independent of the human gaze. Even so, we are assured that we will not be overwhelmed by code; a new digital order has purportedly emerged. As follows, network innovators provide us with robotic codes that work benevolently on our behalf, exploring a seemingly random universe of connection. These intelligent codes search the tangled webs that constitute digital communication networks, autonomously in step with our fleeting transactions and data desires. We can sleep safely at night… this is The Road Ahead. But of course, as we now know, the ideal system for perpetual communication has also turned out to be the perfect medium for the codes designed to destroy it (Gordon). Instead of efficiently taking care of our transmission needs, the flow of code has been interrupted by the relational interactions of a machinic assemblage (Deleuze and Guattari). This is a vast assemblage populated by both human and non-human actors. Its evolution has not followed a predictable path determined by the innovations of the science of code, but instead responds to the complex interactions and interconnectedness of the network environment. In this way, the binary switches of the robotic code have occasionally flipped over from true to false – from the munificent to the malevolent function. The interruption seems to be relatively new, but the human-computer assemblage has a long history of the production of what I term liar codes. They follow on from Gödel and Turing’s realisation of the incompleteness and undecidability of self-referential systems of logic in the 1930s. In the following decades, von Neumann’s ideas on self-reproducing code provided early programmers with the means to play coded games of life. Thirty years later and researchers discovered how unstable a network would become when a similarly coded evolutive got out of control (Shoch and Hupp, Cohen). By 1990, the digital worm had turned. Morris’s code famously ‘crashed’ the Internet. The liar code had escaped the research lab and entered the wild world of the network. Nevertheless, despite what appears to be the uncontrollable evolution of code, it is the assemblage itself that makes a difference. Many liar codes have since followed on from the games, experiments and accidents of the early human-computer assemblage. Some are simply mischievous pranks designed to take up space by making copies of themselves, while others conceal a deeper, sinister pre-programmed function of data piracy (Bey 401-434) and viral hijack. The former spread out across a network, spewing out fairly innocuous alerts, whereas the latter steel passwords, gaining access to safe places, capturing navigation tools, and redirecting our attention to the dark side of the global village. In addition to the deluge of spam, viruses and worms, liar code arrives hidden in Trojan programs. Like Russian dolls, code slips into email inboxes. Simple viral sentences repeatedly trick us into opening these programs and spreading the infection. By saying “I love you” code becomes a recursive deceiver, concealing the true intentions of the virus writer, while ensuring that the victim plays a crucial role in the propagation of the liar. Noise Is Dead – Long Live the New Noise! More recently Liar codes have been cunningly understood as contemporary instances of cultural noise – the other of order (Parikka). However, this does not mean that a solution can be found in the universality of Shannon’s linear diagram – this is an altogether different engineering problem. In principle, Shannon’s noise was more readily apprehended. It existed primarily at a technical level (signal noise), a problem solved by the incorporation of noise into a technical code (redundancy). Contrariwise, liar codes go beyond the signal/noise ratio of the content of a message. They are environmental absurdities and anomalies that resonate outside the technical layer into the cultural milieu of the human-computer assemblage. The new noise is produced by the hissing background distortion of the network, which relentlessly drives communication to a far-from-equilibrial state. Along these lines, the production of what appears to be a surplus of code is subject to the behaviour and functioning of a vast and vulnerable topology of human and non-human machinic interaction. Is the Solution to Be Found in a Clash of Codes? In an attempt to banish the network pirates and their growing phylum of liar codes there has been a mobilisation of antivirus technologies. Netizens have been drafted in to operate the malware blockers, set up firewalls or dig the electronic trenches. But these desperate tactics appeal only to those who believe that they can reverse the drift towards instability, and return a sense of order to the network. In reality, evidence of the effectiveness of these counter measures is negligible. Despite efforts to lower the frequency of attacks, the liar code keeps seeping in. Indeed, the disorder from which the new noise emerges is quite unlike the high entropic problem encountered by Shannon. Like this, digital anomalies are not simply undesirable, random distortions, repaired by coded negentropy. On the contrary, the liar is a calculated act of violence, but this is an action that emerges from a collective, war-like assemblage. Therefore, significantly, it is not the code, but the relational interactions that evolve. For this reason, it is not simply the liar codes that threaten the stability of transmission, but the opening-up of a networked medium that captures messages, turning them into an expression of the unknown of order. Code no longer conveys a message through a channel. Not at all, it is the assemblage itself that anarchically converts the message into an altogether different form of expression. The liar is a rhizome, not a root!! (See figure 1.) A Network Diagram of Senders, Receivers and Deceivers Rhizomatic liar code introduces an anarchic scrambling of the communication model. Ad nauseam, antivirus researchers bemoan the problem of the liar code, but their code-determined defence system has seemingly failed to tell apart the senders, receivers and deceivers. Their tactics cannot sidestep the Gödelian paradox. Interestingly, current research into complex network topologies, particularly the Internet and the Web (Barabási), appears to not only support this gloomy conclusion, but confirms that the problem extends beyond code to the dynamic formation of the network itself. In this way, complex network theory may help us to understand how the human-computer assemblage comes together in the production of viral anomalies. Indeed, the digital network is not, as we may think, a random universe of free arbitrary association. It does not conform to the principles leading to inevitable equilibrium (an averaging out of connectivity). It is instead, an increasingly auto-organised and undemocratic tangle of nodes and links in which a few highly connected aristocratic clusters form alongside many isolated regions. In this far-from-random milieu, the flow of code is not determined by the linear transmission of messages between senders and receivers, or for that matter is it guided by an algorithmic evolutive. On the contrary, while aristocratic networks provide a robust means of holding an assemblage together, their topological behaviour also makes them highly susceptible to viral epidemics. Liar codes easily spread through clusters formed out of preferential linkage, and a desire for exclusive, network alliances between humans and non-humans. From a remote location, a single viral code can promiscuously infect a highly connected population of nodes (Pastor-Satorras & Vespignani). This is the perfect environment for the actions of deceivers and their liar codes. On reflection, a revised diagram of transmission, which tackles head on the viral anomalies of the human-computer assemblage, would perhaps be unworkable. This is consistent with the problem of liar codes, and the resulting collapse of trustworthy transmission. The diagram would ideally need to factor in the anarchic, scrambled lines of communication (see figure 1), as well as the complex topological relations between node and link. Such a diagram would also need to trace significant topological behaviours and functions alongside the malfunctions of codes, coders and the sharing of codes over a network. It is this significant topological intensity of the human-computer assemblage that shifts the contemporary debate on noise away from Shannon’s model towards a complex, non-linear and relational interaction. In this sense, the diagram moves closer to the rhizomatic notion of a network (Deleuze and Guattari 9-10). Not so much a model of transmission, rather a model of viral transduction. References Barabási, Albert-László. Linked: The New Science of Networks. Cambridge, Mass: Perseus, 2002. Bey, Hakim in Ludlow, Peter (ed). Crypto Anarchy, Cyberstates and Pirate Utopias. Cambridge, Mass: MIT, 2001. Cohen, F. “Computer Viruses: Theory and Experiments.” Computers & Security 6 (1987): 22-35. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. by Brian Massumi. London: The Athlone Press, 1987. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus. London: The Athlone Press, 1984. Gates, Bill. The Road Ahead. London: Penguin, 1995/1996. Gordon, Sarah. “Technologically Enabled Crime: Shifting Paradigms for the Year 2000.” Computers and Security 1995. (5 Dec. 2005) http://www.research.ibm.com/antivirus/SciPapers/Gordon/Crime.html>. Latour, Bruno. Science in Action: How to Follow Scientists and Engineers through Society. Harvard University Press, 1988. Parikka, Jussi. “Viral Noise and the (Dis)Order of the Digital Culture.” M/C Journal 7.6 (2005). 5 Dec. 2005 http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0501/05-parikka.php>. Shannon, Claude, and Warren Weaver. The Mathematical Theory of Communication. University of Illinois Press, 1949/1998. Shoch, John F, and Jon A Hupp. “The ‘Worm’ Programs – Early Experience with a Distributed Computation.” Communications of the ACM 25.3 (March 1982): 172–180. 5 Dec. 2005. Pastor-Satorras, Romualdo, and Alessandro Vespignani. “Epidemic Spreading in Scale-Free Networks.” Physical Review Letters 86 (2001). Von Neumann, John, and Arthur Burks. Theory of Self-Reproducing Automata. University of Illinois Press, 1966. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Sampson, Tony. "Senders, Receivers and Deceivers: How Liar Codes Put Noise Back on the Diagram of Transmission." M/C Journal 9.1 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/03-sampson.php>. APA Style Sampson, T. (Mar. 2006) "Senders, Receivers and Deceivers: How Liar Codes Put Noise Back on the Diagram of Transmission," M/C Journal, 9(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/03-sampson.php>.

When Ray Winstone’s character in the film ‘Nil by Mouth’, uses an album cover as a portable work surface to prepare drugs, what is invariably being enunciated is a narrative of generational identity. The object status of the vinyl record with its sleeves, notes, and protective sheath, appends a broader trajectory of the ‘record collection’, ‘stereo’, ‘speakers and dials’. The series of operations performed upon these raw materials whether, collecting, listening to, trading or buying second hand, creates a unique cultural form, a series of unordered items/events, which Lev Manovich terms a ‘narrative’. A narrative can best be described as a series of developments within otherwise unrelated elements, which forms and/or sustains an identity for the group of people interacting with them. The culture of listening to commodified music, with its necessary hardware (vinyl/CD/cassette), collectively works to map methods of listening and modes of behaviour, which enable an album’s ritualistic consumption. However, the various digital translations of the traditional album cover, including the ‘album icon’, the ‘desktop’, the ‘playlist’, invert the narrative created by the traditional vinyl assemblage by their nature as discrete data. The paragraphs which follow examine the effects of New Media’s ‘transmissive’ rather than reflective aesthetics, producing alternate maps of the physical, aural, and cultural experience of data and narrative. The digital album ‘icon’, the transmissible ‘sign’ or ‘trace’ of a material object, functions as a complication to Manovich’s New Media narrative/database binary. The construction of database and narrative as natural enemies within New Media discourse highlighted by Manovich, is problematic when dealing with systems of operation characterised by their mutability. The traditional relationship between the album cover and its musical content, its remediation in digital format, serve to reveal that the two are not so mutually exclusive. Within popular discourse, it is acknowledged that the database – repositories of discrete information – is foregrounded by the digital apparatus, whereas the analogue apparatus is seen to foreground narrative – the processes performed upon information, from generation, to packaging, to transmission. The packaging, the physical dimensions and collectable attributes of the record, constructed a ritualistic narrative specific to the vinyl. The public face of the vinyl album in record stores and personal collections was a transitory stage, prolonging the inevitable ‘unwrapping’ in private. The promise of something untouched and unexplored beyond the removal of the ‘nylon stockings’ of the vinyl sleeve; the enticement to come into physical contact with the textured ridges of the LP in order to move the play head to a desired point from which the experience will begin, articulates the seductive, and culturally entrenched power of the narrative database, and its private use. While the vinyl object constructed a narrative able to oscillate between public and private modes, the encoding of sound into mp3 or wma, by its presence as naked data is both direct and indirect, and foreshadows the general role of technology universally – to standardise action into repetitive occurrences – producing residues of a direct action. The digital music file has already been “unwrapped”; it is a conversion, a singularity, the “animal” which enters into things, signalling a change of state (Deleuze and Guattari 27). What is being altered and reassembled in the translation from analogue to digital is not only the format of the data, but the surrounding assemblage/phylum. While the LP’s assemblage was a promise of unexplored territory, the less determinate assemblage encasing the digital file, if anything, presents a colonised terrain. It makes explicit the external party (the programmer/conversion software) having proceeded before you. Whether through a ‘peer-to-peer’ or ‘pay-per-download’ service, the digital file becomes the single object accessible to countless, subjects. It is not one, but a multitude of unaccountable ‘unwrappers’. The map, or indexed data, is the catalyst to narrative activity. Its elements are arranged attuned to a cultural sensitivity, in order for its contents to be understood and to be acted upon. Understanding the material album cover as a specific type of cartography – physically shepherding the consumer towards real material locations when examining its digital counterpart in the “icon”, reveals the fragmentary effects of the digital apparatus. The album icon does not merely signal the malleability of subject and object and the rupture of former equations of reality with embodied experience. More importantly, the presence of the icon whether on a webpage, iPod, or playlist, heralds an alteration in the relationship of sound to visuals, and the nature of navigation itself. Albums contained in main street stores and shopping complexes, like the music they reflect, carry – not entirely pejorative – connotations of being “tame”, “tidy” and “bland” (Shaughnessy 5). The search for more experimental music entails a step outside the consumerist domain of the mainstream record industry to “comb the hidden networks of labels releasing new and experimental music”. Labels such as Warp and Beggars Banquet signify their position on the fringe of the economy through album covers “fizzing with … incoherence, weirdness, techno-fetishism, anti-commercialism, anti-design, and visual promiscuity”. The material album cover provides a perceptive map with which to explore a territory. Conversely, the presence of the ‘album icon’ on a website, or alongside a playlist causes the navigator to enter a territory to explore its map. For if a ‘narrative’ is to be understood in Munster’s terms as a set of processes performed upon information, then New Media have the ability to foreground the ‘database’ over ‘narrative’ accounts for its transmissive, rather than reflective aesthetics. Unlike an album cover in its material form – be it vinyl or CD, the icon doesn’t bind a material space – it doesn’t ‘cover’ anything. It is not an object to be transmitted. It is a transmission. It occupies the intermediate ground between narrative and data. The icon, like hypertext, becomes interface, a series of movements through and across unfolding surfaces. It is a performative zone, acting to shepherd site visitors to a review of the album in question, or towards options for attaining its material presence via customised payment. The album icon fragments the conceived assemblage, not only in its foregoing of materiality (which the material presence of the computer would contradict), but through altered methods of navigation; ‘transmitted’ rather than ‘reflective’ topographies of image to genre are aesthetically understood. When every site online becomes equivalent to the next by means of its ‘addressability’ – where everything can be located by an address, and a discrete value, what was formerly the visual equivalent to the music, is now a smooth plateau of perception (Vanhanen). As stated by Novak, technology, or rather human interaction with technology has evolved to the point where the materials transmitted are signs of subjects (1997). The material presence of an LP/CD acted as a set of coordinates with which to circumnavigate and ‘become’ a popular identity. With the digital music file, the ‘seducer’ becomes the ‘seduced’; the package that once contained the LP or CD becomes externalised upon the physical space, its subsequent “wrapping”/“unwrapping” or consumption, contingent upon the ambience created by a particular soundtrack. When consumers enter a territory to explore a map, the binary between narrative and database is blurred. References Deleuze, G., and F. Guattari. Kafka. Trans. Cochran, T. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986. Novak, M. “Transmitting Architecture.” In Kroker, Digital Delirium. New York: St Martin’s Press, 1997. Munster, A. “Compression and Intensification of Visual Information in Flash Aesthetics.” Fine Art Forum 24 May 2004 http://www.fineartforum.org/Backissues/Vol_17/faf_v17_n10/reviews/munster.html>. Shaughnessy, A. “Anti-Design, Playfulness and Techno-Futurism.” Introduction to Intro, Radical Album Cover Art Sampler 3. London: Laurence King Publishing, 2003. 5. Vanhanen, J. “Loving the Ghost in the Machine.” C-Theory 24 May 2002. http://www.ctheory.net/text_asp?pick=312>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Tsarouhis, Patti. "Mapping the Narrative in a Digital Album Cover." M/C Journal 9.1 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/08-tsarouhis.php>. APA Style Tsarouhis, P. (Mar. 2006) "Mapping the Narrative in a Digital Album Cover," M/C Journal, 9(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/08-tsarouhis.php>.

Introduction In the wake of the disaster of World War I, the Surrealists formulated a hostile critique of the novel that identified its limitations in expressing the depth of the mind's faculties and the fragmentation of the psyche after catastrophic events. From this position of crisis, the Surrealists undertook a series of experimental innovations in form, structure, and style in an attempt to renew the genre. This article examines how the praxis of shock is deployed in a number of Surrealist city novels as a conduit for revolt against a society that grew increasingly mechanised in the climate of post-war regeneration. It seeks to counter the contemporary view that Surrealist city dérives (drifts) represent an intriguing yet ultimately benign method of urban research. By reconsidering its origins in response to a world catastrophe, this article emphasises the Surrealist novel’s binding of the affective properties of shock to the dream-awakening dialectic at the heart of the political position of Surrealism. The Surrealist City Novel Today it has almost become a truism to assert that there is a causal link between the catastrophic devastation wrought by the events of the two World Wars and the ideology of rupture that characterised the iconoclasms of the Modernist avant-gardes. Yet, as we progress into the twenty-first century, it is timely to recognise that new generations are rediscovering canonical and peripheral texts of this era and refracting them through a prism of contemporary preoccupations. In many ways, the revisions of today’s encounters with that past era suggest we have travelled some distance from the rawness of such catastrophic events. One post-war body of work recently subjected to view via an unexpected route is the remarkable array of Surrealist city novels set in Paris in the 1920s and 1930s, representing a spectrum of experimental texts by such authors as André Breton, Louis Aragon, Robert Desnos, Philippe Soupault, and Michel Leiris. Over the past decade, these works have become recuperated in the Anglophone context as exemplary instances of ludic engagement with the city. This is due in large part to the growing surge of interest in psychogeography, an urban research method concerned with the influence that geographical environments exert over the emotions and behaviours of individuals, and a concern for tracing the literary genealogies of walking and writing in broad sweeping encyclopaedic histories and guidebook style accounts (for prominent examples see Rebecca Solnit’s Wanderlust and Merlin Coverley’s Psychogeography). Yet as Surrealist novels continue to garner renewed interest for their erotic intrigue, their strolling encounters with the unconscious or hidden facets of the city, and as precursors to the apparently more radical practice of Situationist psychogeography, this article suggests that something vital is missing. By neglecting the revolutionary significance that the Surrealists placed upon the street and its inextricable connection to the shock of the marvellous, I suggest that we have arrived at a point of diminished appreciation of the praxis of the dream-awakening dialectic at the heart of Surrealist politics. With the movement firmly lodged in the popular imagination as concerned merely with the art of play and surprise, the Surrealists’ sensorial conception of the city as embedded within a much larger critique of the creators of “a sterile and dead world” (Rasmussen 372) is lost. This calls into question to what extent we can now relate to the urgency with which avant-gardes like the Surrealists responded to the disaster of war in their call for “the revolution of the subject, a revolution that destroyed identity and released the fantastic” (372). At the same time, a re-evaluation of the Surrealist city novel as a significant precursor to the psychogeograhical dérive (drift) can prove instructive in locating the potential of walking, in order to function as a form of praxis (defined here as lived practice in opposition to theory) that goes beyond its more benign construction as the “gentle art” of getting lost. The Great Shock To return to the origins of Surrealism is to illuminate the radical intentions of the movement. The enormous shock that followed the Great War represented, according to Roger Shattuck, “a profound organic reaction that convulsed the entire system with vomiting, manic attacks, and semi-collapse” (9). David Gascoyne considers 1919, the inaugural year of Surrealist activity, as “a year of liquidation, the end of everything but also of paroxysmic death-birth, incubating seeds of renewal” (17). It was at this time that André Breton and his collaborator Philippe Soupault came together at the Hôtel des Grands Hommes in Paris to conduct their early experimental research. As the authors took poetic license with the psychoanalytical method of automatic writing, their desire to unsettle the latent content of the unconscious as it manifests in the spontaneous outpourings of dream-like recollections resulted in the first collection of Surrealist texts, The Magnetic Fields (1920). As Breton recalls: Completely occupied as I still was with Freud at that time, and familiar with his methods of examination which I had had some slight occasion to use on some patients during the war, I resolved to obtain from myself what we were trying to obtain from them, namely, a monologue spoken as rapidly as possible without any intervention on the part of critical faculties, a monologue consequently unencumbered by the slightest inhibition and which was, as closely as possible, akin to spoken thought. (Breton, Manifesto 22–23) Despite their debts to psychoanalytical methods, the Surrealists sought radically different ends from therapeutic goals in their application. Rather than using analysis to mitigate the pathologies of the psyche, Breton argued that such methods should instead be employed to liberate consciousness in ways that released the individual from “the reign of logic” (Breton, Manifesto 11) and the alienating forces of a mechanised society. In the same manifesto, Breton links his critique to a denunciation of the novel, principally the realist novel which dominated the literary landscape of the nineteenth-century, for its limitations in conveying the power of the imagination and the depths of the mind’s faculties. Despite these protestations, the Surrealists were unable to completely jettison the novel and instead launched a series of innovations in form, structure, and style in an attempt to renew the genre. As J.H. Matthews suggests, “Being then, as all creative surrealism must be, the expression of a mood of experimentation, the Surrealist novel probes not only the potentialities of feeling and imagination, but also those of novelistic form” (Matthews 6). When Nadja appeared in 1928, Breton was not the first Surrealist to publish a novel. However, this work remains the most well-known example of its type in the Anglophone context. Largely drawn from the author’s autobiographical experiences, it recounts the narrator’s (André’s) obsessive infatuation with a mysterious, impoverished and unstable young woman who goes by the name of Nadja. The pair’s haunted and uncanny romance unfolds during their undirected walks, or dérives, through the streets of Paris, the city acting as an affective register of their encounters. The “intellectual seduction” comes to an abrupt halt (Breton, Nadja 108), however, when Nadja does in fact go truly mad, disappearing from the narrator’s life when she is committed to an asylum. André makes no effort to seek her out and after launching into a diatribe vehemently attacking the institutions that administer psychiatric treatment, nonchalantly resumes the usual concerns of his everyday life. At a formal level, Breton’s unconventional prose indeed stirs many minor shocks and tremors in the reader. The insertion of temporally off-kilter photographs and surreal drawings are intended to supersede naturalistic description. However, their effect is to create a form of “negative indexicality” (Masschelein) that subtly undermines the truth claims of the novel. Random coincidences charged through with the attractive force of desire determine the plot while the compressed dream-like narrative strives to recount only those facts of “violently fortuitous character” (Breton, Nadja 19). Strikingly candid revelations perpetually catch the reader off guard. But it is in the novel’s treatment of the city, most specifically, in which we can recognise the evolution of Surrealism’s initial concern for the radically subversive and liberatory potential of the dream into a form of praxis that binds the shock of the marvellous to the historical materialism of Marx and Engels. This praxis unfolds in the novel on a number of levels. By placing its events firmly at the level of the street, Breton privileges the anti-heroic realm of everyday life over the socially hierarchical domain of the bourgeois domestic interior favoured in realist literature. More significantly, the sites of the city encountered in the novel act as repositories of collective memory with the power to rupture the present. As Margaret Cohen comprehensively demonstrates in her impressive study Profane Illumination, the great majority of sites that the narrator traverses in Nadja reveal connections in previous centuries to instances of bohemian activity, violent insurrection or revolutionary events. The enigmatic statue of Étienne Dolet, for example, to which André is inexplicably drawn on his city walks and which produces a sensation of “unbearable discomfort” (25), commemorates a sixteenth-century scholar and writer of love poetry condemned as a heretic and burned at the Place Maubert for his non-conformist attitudes. When Nadja is suddenly gripped by hallucinations and imagines herself among the entourage of Marie-Antoinette, “multiple ghosts of revolutionary violence descend on the Place Dauphine from all sides” (Cohen 101). Similarly, a critique of capitalism emerges in the traversal of those marginal and derelict zones of the city, such as the Saint-Ouen flea market, which become revelatory of the historical cycles of decay and ruination that modernity seeks to repress through its faith in progress. It was this poetic intuition of the machinations of historical materialism, in particular, that captured the attention of Walter Benjamin in his 1929 “Surrealism” essay, in which he says of Breton that: He can boast an extraordinary discovery: he was the first to perceive the revolutionary energies that appear in the “outmoded”—in the first iron constructions, the first factory buildings, the earliest photos, objects that have begun to be extinct, grand pianos, the dresses of five years ago, fashionable restaurants when the vogue has begun to ebb from them. The relation of these things to revolution—no one can have a more exact concept of it than these authors. (210) In the same passage, Benjamin makes passing reference to the Passage de l’Opéra, the nineteenth-century Parisian arcade threatened with demolition and eulogised by Louis Aragon in his Surrealist anti-novel Paris Peasant (published in 1926, two years earlier than Nadja). Loosely structured around a series of walks, Aragon’s book subverts the popular guidebook literature of the period by inventorying the arcade’s quotidian attractions in highly lyrical and imagistic prose. As in Nadja, a concern for the “outmoded” underpins the praxis which informs the politics of the novel although here it functions somewhat differently. As transitional zones on the cusp of redevelopment, the disappearing arcades attract Aragon for their liminal status, becoming malleable dreamscapes where an ontological instability renders them ripe for eruptions of the marvellous. Such sites emerge as “secret repositories of several modern myths,” and “the true sanctuaries of a cult of the ephemeral”. (Aragon 14) City as Dreamscape Contemporary literature increasingly reads Paris Peasant through the lens of psychogeography, and not unproblematically. In his brief guide to psychogeography, British writer Merlin Coverley stresses Aragon’s apparent documentary or ethnographical intentions in describing the arcades. He suggests that the author “rails against the destruction of the city” (75), positing the novel as “a handbook for today’s breed of psychogeographer” (76). The nuances of Aragon’s dream-awakening dialectic, however, are too easily effaced in such an assessment which overlooks the novel’s vertiginous and hyperbolic prose as it consistently approaches an unreality in its ambivalent treatment of the arcades. What is arguably more significant than any documentary concern is Aragon’s commitment to the broader Surrealist quest to transform reality by undermining binary oppositions between waking life and the realm of dreams. As Hal Foster’s reading of the arcades in Surrealism insists: This gaze is not melancholic; the surrealists do not cling obsessively to the relics of the nineteenth-century. Rather it uncovers them for the purposes of resistance through re-enchantment. If we can grasp this dialectic of ruination, recovery, and resistance, we will grasp the intimated ambition of the surrealist practice of history. (166) Unlike Aragon, Breton defended the political position of Surrealism throughout the ebbs and flows of the movement. This notion of “resistance through re-enchantment” retained its significance for Breton as he clung to the radical importance of dreams and the imagination, creative autonomy, and individual freedom over blind obedience to revolutionary parties. Aragon’s allegiance to communism led him to surrender the poetic intoxications of Surrealist prose in favour of the more sombre and austere tone of social realism. By contrast, other early Surrealists like Philippe Soupault contributed novels which deployed the praxis of shock in a less explicitly dialectical fashion. Soupault’s Last Nights of Paris (1928), in particular, responds to the influence of the war in producing a crisis of identity among a generation of young men, a crisis projected or transferred onto the city streets in ways that are revelatory of the author’s attunement to how “places and environment have a profound influence on memory and imagination” (Soupault 91). All the early Surrealists served in the war in varying capacities. In Soupault’s case, the writer “was called up in 1916, used as a guinea pig for a new typhoid vaccine, and spent the rest of the war in and out of hospital. His close friend and cousin, René Deschamps, was killed in action” (Read 22). Memories of the disaster of war assume a submerged presence in Soupault’s novel, buried deep in the psyche of the narrator. Typically, it is the places and sites of the city that act as revenants, stimulating disturbing memories to drift back to the surface which then suffuse the narrator in an atmosphere of melancholy. During the novel’s numerous dérives, the narrator’s detective-like pursuit of his elusive love-object, the young streetwalker Georgette, the tracking of her near-mute artist brother Octave, and the following of the ringleader of a criminal gang, all appear as instances of compensation. Each chase invokes a desire to recover a more significant earlier loss that persistently eludes the narrator. When Soupault’s narrator shadows Octave on a walk that ventures into the city’s industrial zone, recollections of the disaster of war gradually impinge upon his aleatory perambulations. His description evokes two men moving through the trenches together: The least noise was a catastrophe, the least breath a great terror. We walked in the eternal mud. Step by step we sank into the thickness of night, lost as if forever. I turned around several times to look at the way we had come but night alone was behind us. (80) In an article published in 2012, Catherine Howell identifies Last Nights of Paris as “a lyric celebration of the city as spectacle” (67). At times, the narrator indeed surrenders himself to the ocular pleasures of modernity. Observing the Eiffel Tower, he finds delight in “indefinitely varying her silhouette as if I were examining her through a kaleidoscope” (Soupault 30). Yet it is important to stress the role that shock plays in fissuring this veneer of spectacle, especially those evocations of the city that reveal an unnerving desensitisation to the more violent manifestations of the metropolis. Reading a newspaper, the narrator remarks that “the discovery of bags full of limbs, carefully sawed and chopped up” (23) signifies little more than “a commonplace crime” (22). Passing the banks of the Seine provokes “recollection of an evening I had spent lying on the parapet of the Pont Marie watching several lifesavers trying in vain to recover the body of an unfortunate suicide” (10). In his sensitivity to the unassimilable nature of trauma, Soupault intuits a phenomenon which literary trauma theory argues profoundly limits the text’s claim to representation, knowledge, and an autonomous subject. In this sense, Soupault appears less committed than Breton to the idea that the after-effects of shock might be consciously distilled into a form of praxis. Yet this prolongation of an unintegrated trauma still posits shock as a powerful vehicle to critique a society attempting to heal its wounds without addressing their underlying causes. This is typical of Surrealism’s efforts to “dramatize the physical and psychological trauma of a war that everyone wanted to forget so that it would not be swept away too quickly” (Lyford 4). Woman and Radical Madness In her 2007 study, Surrealist Masculinities, Amy Lyford focuses upon the regeneration and nation building project that characterised post-war France and argues that Surrealist tactics sought to dismantle an official discourse that promoted ideals of “robust manhood and female maternity” (4). Viewed against this backdrop, the trope of madness in Surrealism is central to the movement’s disruptive strategies. In Last Nights of Paris, a lingering madness simmers beneath the surface of the text like an undertow, while in other Surrealist texts the lauding of madness, specifically female hysteria, is much more explicit. Indeed, the objectification of the madwoman in Surrealism is among the most problematic aspects of its praxis of shock and one that raises questions over to what extent, if at all, Surrealism and feminism can be reconciled, leading some critics to define the movement as inherently misogynistic. While certainly not unfounded, this critique fails to answer why a broad spectrum of women artists have been drawn to the movement. By contrast, a growing body of work nuances the complexities of the “blinds spots” (Lusty 2) in Surrealism’s relationship with women. Contemporary studies like Natalya Lusty’s Surrealism, Feminism, Psychoanalysis and Katharine Conley’s earlier Automatic Woman both afford greater credit to Surrealism’s female practitioners in redefining their subject position in ways that trouble and unsettle the conventional understanding of women’s role in the movement. The creative and self-reflexive manipulation of madness, for example, proved pivotal to the achievements of Surrealist women. In her short autobiographical novella, Down Below (1944), Leonora Carrington recounts the disturbing true experience of her voyage into madness sparked by the internment of her partner and muse, fellow Surrealist Max Ernst, in a concentration camp in 1940. Committed to a sanatorium in Santander, Spain, Carrington was treated with the seizure inducing drug Cardiazol. Her text presents a startling case study of therapeutic maltreatment that is consistent with Bretonian Surrealism’s critique of the use of psycho-medical methods for the purposes of regulating and disciplining the individual. As well as vividly recalling her intense and frightening hallucinations, Down Below details the author’s descent into a highly paranoid state which, somewhat perversely, heightens her sense of agency and control over her environment. Unable to discern boundaries between her internal reality and that of the external world, Carrington develops a delusional and inflated sense of her ability to influence the city of Madrid: In the political confusion and the torrid heat, I convinced myself that Madrid was the world’s stomach and that I had been chosen for the task of restoring that digestive organ to health […] I believed that I was capable of bearing that dreadful weight and of drawing from it a solution for the world. The dysentery I suffered from later was nothing but the illness of Madrid taking shape in my intestinal tract. (12–13) In this way, Carrington’s extraordinarily visceral memoir embodies what can be described as the Surrealist woman’s “double allegiance” (Suleiman 5) to the praxis of shock. On the one hand, Down Below subversively harnesses the affective qualities of madness in order to manifest textual disturbances and to convey the author’s fierce rebellion against societal constraints. At the same time, the work reveals a more complex and often painful representational struggle inherent in occupying the position of both the subject experiencing madness and the narrator objectively recalling its events, displaying a tension not present in the work of the male Surrealists. The memoir concludes on an ambivalent note as Carrington describes finally becoming “disoccultized” of her madness, awakening to “the mystery with which I was surrounded and which they all seemed to take pleasure in deepening around me” (53). Notwithstanding its ambivalence, Down Below typifies the political and historical dimensions of Surrealism’s struggle against internal and external limits. Yet as early as 1966, Surrealist scholar J.H. Matthews was already cautioning against reaching that point where the term Surrealist “loses any meaning and becomes, as it is for too many, synonymous with ‘strange,’ ‘weird,’ or even ‘fanciful’” (5–6). To re-evaluate the praxis of shock in the Surrealist novel, then, is to seek to reinstate Surrealism as a movement that cannot be reduced to vague adjectives or to mere aesthetic principles. It is to view it as an active force passionately engaged with the pressing social, cultural, and political problems of its time. While the frequent nods to Surrealist methods in contemporary literary genealogies and creative urban research practices such as psychogeography are a testament to its continued allure, the growing failure to read Surrealism as political is one of the more contradictory symptoms of the expanding temporal distance from the catastrophic events from which the movement emerged. As it becomes increasingly common to draw links between disaster, creativity, and renewal, the shifting sands of the reception of Surrealism are a reminder of the need to resist domesticating movements born from such circumstances in ways that blunt their critical faculties and dull the awakening power of their praxis of shock. To do otherwise is to be left with little more than cheap thrills. References Aragon, Louis. Paris Peasant (1926). Trans. Simon Watson Taylor. Boston: Exact Change, 1994. Benjamin, Walter. “Surrealism: The Last Snapshot of the European Intelligentsia” (1929). Trans. Edmund Jephcott. Walter Benjamin Selected Writings, Volume 2, Part I, 1927–1930. Eds. Michael W. Jennings, Howard Eiland, and Gary Smith. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap P, 2005. Breton, André. “Manifesto of Surrealism” (1924). Manifestoes of Surrealism. Trans. Richard Seaver and Helen R. Lane. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P, 1990. ———. Nadja (1928). Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Grove P, 1960. Breton, André, and Philippe Soupault. The Magnetic Fields (1920). Trans. David Gascoyne. London: Atlas P, 1985. Carrington, Leonora. Down Below (1944). Chicago: Black Swan P, 1983. Cohen, Margaret. Profane Illumination: Walter Benjamin and the Paris of Surrealist Revolution. Berkeley, CA: U of California P, 1993. Conley, Katharine. Automatic Woman: The Representation of Woman in Surrealism. Lincoln, NE: U of Nebraska P, 1996. Coverley, Merlin. Psychogeography. Harpenden: Pocket Essentials, 2010. Foster, Hal. Compulsive Beauty. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1993. Gascoyne, David. “Introduction.” The Magnetic Fields (1920) by André Breton and Philippe Soupault. Trans. David Gascoyne. London: Atlas P, 1985. Howell, Catherine. “City of Night: Parisian Explorations.” Public: Civic Spectacle 45 (2012): 64–77. Lusty, Natalya. Surrealism, Feminism, Psychoanalysis. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2007. Lyford, Amy. Surrealist Masculinities: Gender Anxiety and the Aesthetics of Post-World War I Reconstruction in France. Berkeley, CA: U of California P, 2007. Masschelein, Anneleen. “Hand in Glove: Negative Indexicality in André Breton’s Nadja and W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz.” Searching for Sebald: Photography after W.G. Sebald. Ed. Lise Patt. Los Angeles, CA: ICI P, 2007. 360–87. Matthews, J.H. Surrealism and the Novel. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P, 1996. Rasmussen, Mikkel Bolt. “The Situationist International, Surrealism and the Difficult Fusion of Art and Politics.” Oxford Art Journal 27.3 (2004): 365–87. Read, Peter. “Poets out of Uniform.” Book Review. The Times Literary Supplement. 15 Mar. 2002: 22. Shattuck, Roger. “Love and Laughter: Surrealism Reappraised.” The History of Surrealism. Ed. Maurice Nadeau. Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Penguin Books, 1978. 11–34. Solnit, Rebecca. Wanderlust: A History of Walking. London: Verso, 2002. Soupault, Philippe. Last Nights of Paris (1928). Trans. William Carlos Williams. Boston: Exact Change, 1992. Suleiman, Susan Robin. “Surrealist Black Humour: Masculine/Feminine.” Papers of Surrealism 1 (2003): 1–11. 20 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.surrealismcentre.ac.uk/papersofsurrealism/journal1›.

1. A Minor Philosopher According to Guattari and Deleuze's definition, a 'minor literature' is the literature of a minority that makes use of a major language, a literature which deterritorialises that language and interconnects meanings of the most disparate levels, inseparably mixing and implicating poetic, psychological, social and political issues with each other. In analogy, the Japanese media theorist Toshiya Ueno has refered to Félix Guattari as a 'minor philosopher'. Himself a practicing psychoanalyst, Guattari was a foreigner to the Grand Nation of Philosophy, whose natives mostly treat him like an unworthy bastard. And yet he has established a garden of minor flowers, of mongrel weeds and rhizomes that are as polluting to philosophy as Kafka's writing has been to German literature (cf. Deleuze & Guattari, Kafka). The strategies of 'being minor' are, as exemplified by Guattari's writings (with and without Deleuze), deployed in multiple contexts: intensification, re-functionalisation, estrangement, transgression. The following offers a brief overview over the way in which Guattari conceptualises media, new technologies and art, as well as descriptions of several media art projects that may help to illustrate the potentials of such 'minor machines'. Without wanting to pin these projects down as 'Guattarian' artworks, I suggest that the specific practices of contemporary media artists can point us in the direction of the re-singularising, deterritorialising and subjectifying forces which Guattari indicated as being germane to media technologies. Many artists who work with media technologies do so through strategies of appropriation and from a position of 'being minor': whenever a marginality, a minority, becomes active, takes the word power (puissance de verbe), transforms itself into becoming, and not merely submitting to it, identical with its condition, but in active, processual becoming, it engenders a singular trajectory that is necessarily deterritorialising because, precisely, it's a minority that begins to subvert a majority, a consensus, a great aggregate. As long as a minority, a cloud, is on a border, a limit, an exteriority of a great whole, it's something that is, by definition, marginalised. But here, this point, this object, begins to proliferate ..., begins to amplify, to recompose something that is no longer a totality, but that makes a former totality shift, detotalises, deterritorialises an entity.' (Guattari, "Pragmatic/Machinic") In the context of media art, 'becoming minor' is a strategy of turning major technologies into minor machines. a. Krzysztof Wodiczko (PL/USA): Alien Staff Krzysztof Wodiczko's Alien Staff is a mobile communication system and prosthetic instrument which facilitates the communication of migrants in their new countries of residence, where they have insufficient command of the local language for communicating on a par with the native inhabitants. Alien Staff consists of a hand-held staff with a small video monitor and a loudspeaker at the top. The operator can adjust the height of the staff's head to be at a level with his or her own head. Via the video monitor, the operator can replay pre-recorded elements of an interview or a narration of him- or herself. The recorded material may contain biographical information when people have difficulties constructing coherent narratives in the foreign language, or it may include the description of feelings and impressions which the operator normally doesn't get a chance to talk about. The Staff is used in public places where passers-by are attracted to listen to the recording and engage in a conversation with the operator. Special transparent segments of the staff contain memorabilia, photographs or other objects which indicate a part of the personal history of the operator and which are intended to instigate a conversation. The Alien Staff offers individuals an opportunity to remember and retell their own story and to confront people in the country of immigration with this particular story. The Staff reaffirms the migrant's own subjectivity and re-singularises individuals who are often perceived as representative of a homogenous group. The instrument displaces expectations of the majority audience by articulating unformulated aspects of the migrant's subjectivity through a medium that appears as the attractive double of an apparently 'invisible' person. 2. Mass Media, New Technologies and 'Planetary Computerisation' Guattari's comments about media are mostly made in passing and display a clearly outlined opinion about the role of media in contemporary society: a staunch critique of mass media is coupled with an optimistic outlook to the potentials of a post-medial age in which new technologies can develop their singularising, heterogenic forces. The latter development is, as Guattari suggests, already discernible in the field of art and other cultural practices making use of electronic networks, and can lead to a state of 'planetary computerisation' in which multiple new subject-groups can emerge. Guattari consistently refers to the mass media with contempt, qualifying them as a stupefying machinery that is closely wedded to the forces of global capitalism, and that is co-responsible for much of the reactionary hyper-individualism, the desperation and the "state of emergency" that currently dominates "four-fifth of humanity" (Guattari, Chaosmosis 97; cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 16, 21). Guattari makes a passionate plea for a new social ecology and formulates, as one step towards this goal, the necessity, "to guide these capitalist societies of the age of mass media into a post-mass medial age; by this I mean that the mass media have to be reappropriated by a multiplicity of subject-groups who are able to administer them on a path of singularisation" (Guattari, "Regimes" 64). Guattari consistently refers to the mass media with contempt, qualifying them as a stupefying machinery that is closely wedded to the forces of global capitalism, and that is co-responsible for much of the reactionary hyper-individualism, the desperation and the "state of emergency" that currently dominates "four-fifth of humanity" (Guattari, Chaosmosis 97; cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 16, 21). Guattari makes a passionate plea for a new social ecology and formulates, as one step towards this goal, the necessity, "to guide these capitalist societies of the age of mass media into a post-mass medial age; by this I mean that the mass media have to be reappropriated by a multiplicity of subject-groups who are able to administer them on a path of singularisation" (Guattari, "Regimes" 64). b. Seiko Mikami (J/USA): World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body An art project that deals with the cut between the human subject and the body, and with the deterritorialisation of the sense of self, is Seiko Mikami's World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body. It uses the visitor's heart and lung sounds which are amplified and transformed within the space of the installation. These sounds create a gap between the internal and external sounds of the body. The project is presented in an-echoic room where sound does not reverberate. Upon entering this room, it is as though your ears are no longer living while paradoxically you also feel as though all of your nerves are concentrated in your ears. The sounds of the heart, lungs, and pulse beat are digitised by the computer system and act as parameters to form a continuously transforming 3-d polygonal mesh of body sounds moving through the room. Two situations are effected in real time: the slight sounds produced by the body itself resonate in the body's internal membranes, and the transfigured resonance of those sounds is amplified in the space. A time-lag separates both perceptual events. The visitor is overcome by the feeling that a part of his or her corporeality is under erasure. The body exists as abstract data, only the perceptual sense is aroused. The visitor is made conscious of the disappearance of the physical contours of his or her subjectivity and thereby experiences being turned into a fragmented body. The ears mediate the space that exists between the self and the body. Mikami's work fragments the body and its perceptual apparatus into data, employing them as interfaces and thus folding the body's horizon back onto itself. The project elucidates the difference between an actual and a virtual body, the actual body being deterritorialised and projected outwards towards a number of potential, virtual bodies that can, in the installation, be experienced as maybe even more 'real' than the actual body. 3. Artistic Practice Guattari's conception of post-media implies criss-crossing intersections of aesthetic, ethical, political and technological planes, among which the aesthetic, and with it artistic creativity, are ascribed a position of special prominence. This special role of art is a trope that recurs quite frequently in Guattari's writings, even though he is rarely specific about the artistic practices he has in mind. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari give some detailled attention to the works of artists like Debussy, Boulez, Beckett, Artaud, Kafka, Kleist, Proust, and Klee, and Chaosmosis includes longer passages and concrete examples for the relevance of the aesthetic paradigm. These examples come almost exclusively from the fields of performing arts, music and literature, while visual arts are all but absent. One reason for this could be that the performing arts are time-based and processual and thus lend themselves much better to theorisation of flows, transformations and differentiations. The visual arts can be related to the abstract machine of faciality (visageité) which produces unified, molar, identical entities out of a multiplicity of different singularities, assigning them to a specific category and associating them with particular social fields (cf. Deleuze & Guattari, Tausend Plateaus 167-91) This semiotic territorialisation is much more likely to happen in the case of static images, whether two- or three-dimensional, than in time-based art forms. An interesting question, then, would be whether media art projects, many of which are time-based, processual and open-ended, can be considered as potential post-medial art practices. Moreover, given the status of computer software as the central motor of the digital age, and the crucial role it plays in aesthetic productions like those discussed here, software may have to be viewed as the epitome of post-medial machines. Guattari seems to have been largely unaware of the beginnings of digital media art as it developed in the 1980s. In generalistic terms he suggests that the artist is particularly well-equipped to conceptualise the necessary steps for this work because, unlike engineers, he or she is not tied to a particular programme or plan for a product, and can change the course of a project at any point if an unexpected event or accident intrudes (cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 50). The significance of art for Guattari's thinking comes primarily from its close relation with processes of subjectivation. "Just as scientific machines constantly modify our cosmic frontiers, so do the machines of desire and aesthetic creation. As such, they hold an eminent place within assemblages of subjectivation, themselves called to relieve our old social machines which are incapable of keeping up with the efflorescence of machinic revolutions that shatter our epoch' (Guattari, Chaosmosis 54). The aesthetic paradigm facilitates the development of new, virtual forms of subjectivity, and of liberation, which will be adequate to these machinic revolutions. c. Knowbotic Research + cF: IO_Dencies The Alien Staff project was mentioned as an example for the re-singularisation and the virtualisation of identity, and World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body as an instance of the deterritorialisation and virtualisation of the human body through an artistic interface. The recent project by Knowbotic Research, IO_Dencies -- Questioning Urbanity, deals with the possibilities of agency, collaboration and construction in translocal and networked environments. It points in the direction of what Guattari has called the formation of 'group subjects' through connective interfaces. The project looks at urban settings in different megacities like Tokyo, São Paulo or the Ruhr Area, analyses the forces present in particular local urban situations, and offers experimental interfaces for dealing with these local force fields. IO_Dencies São Paulo enables the articulation of subjective experiences of the city through a collaborative process. Over a period of several months, a group of young architects and urbanists from São Paulo, the 'editors', provided the content and dynamic input for a database. The editors collected material (texts, images, sounds) based on their current situation and on their personal urban experience. A specially designed editor tool allowed the editors to build individual conceptual 'maps' in which to construct the relations between the different materials in the data-pool according to the subjective perception of the city. On the computational level, connectivities are created between the different maps of the editors, a process that is driven by algorithmic self-organisation whose rules are determined by the choices that the editors make. In the process, the collaborative editorial work in the database generates zones of intensities and zones of tension which are visualised as force fields and turbulences and which can be experienced through interfaces on the Internet and at physical exhibition sites. Participants on the Net and in the exhibition can modify and influence these electronic urban movements, force fields and intensities on an abstract, visual level, as well as on a content-based, textual level. This engagement with the project and its material is fed back into the database and influences the relational forces within the project's digital environment. Characteristic of the forms of agency as they evolve in networked environments is that they are neither individualistic nor collective, but rather connective. Whereas the collective is determined by an intentional and empathetic relation between agents within an assemblage, the connective rests on any kind of machinic relation and is therefore more versatile, more open, and based on the heterogeneity of its components or members. In the IO_Dencies interfaces, the different networked participants become visible for each other, creating a trans-local zone of connective agency. The inter-connectedness of their activities can be experienced visually, acoustically, and through the constant reconfiguration of the data sets, an experience which can become the basis of the formation of a specific, heterogeneous group subject. 4. Guattari's Concept of the Machinic An important notion underlying these analyses is that of the machine which, for Guattari, relates not so much to particular technological or mechanical objects, to the technical infrastructure or the physical flows of the urban environment. 'Machines' can be social bodies, industrial complexes, psychological or cultural formations, they are assemblages of heterogeneous parts, aggregations which transform forces, articulate and propel their elements, and force them into a continuous state of transformation and becoming. An important notion underlying these analyses is that of the machine which, for Guattari, relates not so much to particular technological or mechanical objects, to the technical infrastructure or the physical flows of the urban environment. 'Machines' can be social bodies, industrial complexes, psychological or cultural formations, they are assemblages of heterogeneous parts, aggregations which transform forces, articulate and propel their elements, and force them into a continuous state of transformation and becoming. d. Xchange Network My final example is possibly the most evocative in relation to Guattari's notions of the polyvocity and heterogenesis that new media technologies can trigger. It also links up closely with Guattari's own engagement with the minor community radio movement. In late 1997, the E-Lab in Riga initiated the Xchange network for audio experiments on the Internet. The participating groups in London, Ljubljana, Sydney, Berlin, and many other minor and major places, use the Net for distributing their original sound programmes. The Xchange network is "streaming via encoders to remote servers, picking up the stream and re-broadcasting it purely or re-mixed, looping the streams" (Rasa Smite). Xchange is a distributed group, a connective, that builds creative cooperation in live-audio streaming on the communication channels that connect them. They explore the Net as a sound-scape with particular qualities regarding data transmission, delay, feedback, and open, distributed collaborations. Moreover, they connect the network with a variety of other fields. Instead of defining an 'authentic' place of their artistic work, they play in the transversal post-medial zone of media labs in different countries, mailing lists, net-casting and FM broadcasting, clubs, magazines, stickers, etc., in which 'real' spaces and media continuously overlap and fuse (cf. Slater). 5. Heterogenic Practices If we want to understand the technological and the political implications of the machinic environment of the digital networks, and if we want to see the emergence of the group subjects of the post-media age Guattari talks about, we have to look at connectives like Xchange and the editor-participant assemblages of IO_Dencies. The far-reaching machinic transformations which they articulate, hold the potential of what Guattari refers to as the 'molecular revolution'. To realise this revolution, it is vital to "forge new analytical instruments, new concepts, because it is ... the transversality, the crossing of abstract machines that constitute a subjectivity and that are incarnated, that live in very different regions and domains and ... that can be contradictory and antagonistic". For Guattari, this is not a mere theoretical question, but one of experimentation, "of new forms of interactions, of movement construction that respects the diversity, the sensitivities, the particularities of interventions, and that is nonetheless capable of constituting antagonistic machines of struggle to intervene in power relations" (Guattari, "Pragmatic/Machinic" 4-5). The implication here is that some of the minor media practices pursued by artists using digital technologies point us in the direction of the positive potentials of post media. The line of flight of such experimentation is the construction of new and strong forms of subjectivity, "an individual and/or collective reconstitution of the self" (Guattari, Drei Ökologien 21), which can strengthen the process of what Guattari calls "heterogenesis, that is a continuous process of resingularisation. The individuals must, at the same time, become solidary and ever more different" (Guattari, Drei Ökologien 76). References Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. Kafka: Pour une Litterature Mineur. Paris: Ed. de Minuit, 1975. ---. Tausend Plateaus. (1980) Berlin: Merve, 1992. Guattari, Félix. Cartographies Schizoanalytiques. Paris: Ed. Galilée, 1989. ---. Chaosmosis: An Ethico-Aesthetic Paradigm. (1992) Sydney: Power Publications, 1995. ---. Die drei Ökologien. (1989) Wien: Passagen Verlag, 1994. ---. "Pragmatic/Machinic." Discussion with Guattari, conducted and transcribed by Charles J. Stivale. (1985) Pre/Text 14.3-4 (1995). ---. "Regimes, Pathways, Subjects." Die drei Ökologien. (1989) Wien: Passagen Verlag, 1994. 95-108. ---. "Über Maschinen." (1990) Schmidgen, 115-32. Knowbotic Research. IO_Dencies. 1997-8. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://io.khm.de/>. De Landa, Manuel. "The Machinic Phylum." Technomorphica. Eds. V2_Organisation. Rotterdam: V2_Organisation, 1997. Mikami, Seiko. World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body. 1997. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://www.ntticc.or.jp/permanent/mikami/mikami_e.php>. Schmidgen, Henning, ed. Ästhetik und Maschinismus: Texte zu und von Félix Guattari. Berlin: Merve, 1995. ---. Das Unbewußte der Maschinen: Konzeptionen des Psychischen bei Guattari, Deleuze und Lacan. München: Fink, 1997. Slater, Howard. "Post-Media Operators." Nettime, 10 June 1998. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://www.factory.org>. Wodiczko, Krzysztof. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://cavs.mit.edu/people/kw.htm>. Xchange. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://xchange.re-lab.net>. (Note: An extended, Dutch version of this text was published in: Oosterling/Thissen, eds. Chaos ex Machina: Het ecosofisch Werk van Félix Guattari op de Kaart Gezet. Rotterdam: CFK, 1998. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Andreas Broeckmann. "Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.6 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php>. Chicago style: Andreas Broeckmann, "Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 6 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Andreas Broeckmann. (1999) Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(6). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php> ([your date of access]).

‘Country’ is a word that is made to do much discursive work. In one common configuration, country is synonymous with ‘rural’, also evinced through terms like countryside and country-minded. Yet, at the same time, country is synonymous with ‘nation’. This usage is more emotive and identificatory than administrative, as in ‘my country’, ‘my land’, ‘my homeland’. Augmenting a sense of national allegiance, this use of country evokes something of the connection between people, landscape, belonging, identity and subjectivity. Moreover, country-as-rural(ity) and country-as-nation(ality) have significant overlaps. The rural landscape – the countryside – is often imagined as the ‘heartland’ of the modern Western nation-state – a source of national identity and a storehouse for values ‘lost’ through the experience of progress, modernity and industrialisation (Bell). Here, the countryside, supposedly, is a traditional material and discursive site for family, community and well-being (Little and Austin). From yet another angle, country is a genre or style, as in country music, country and western film, country living, country comfort and country cooking. In this way, country becomes a commercial selling point and a commodified imaginary – although this is not at all mutually exclusive with the evocation of belonging, identity and national cultural values through the countryside. This commodification is seen in the recent revaluing of country getaways (McCarthy), sea-change (Burnley and Murphy) and tree-change (Costello), which in turn invokes the notion of country as a store of traditional values, moral restoration and physical revitalisation. Clearly, then, these multifaceted invocations of country – as rurality, nationality and commodity – interleave and overlap in various and complex ways. The papers comprising this issue of M/C Journal seek to explore the intermingling discourses of country, and how these have changed (and continue to change) over time and between places. Indeed, many of these meanings have heightened importance in the present cultural and political moment, and the contents of the papers draw attention to these emerging currencies. Country-as-nation(ality) – and as homeland – is reinforced in the current context of social unrest around terror, security, minority political rights, and climate change threats. And as people search for anchors of security, reinvestments are made in the ‘authenticity’ of rurality and rural communities as sources of both personal respite and wider national cultural values. This has flow on effects in the sphere of the cultural economy, where country living, rustic style and bucolic retreats are increasingly sought by cultural consumers. These affiliations between country, nation, rurality, security, community and consumption are critically interrogated in the subsequent papers. One key theme elicited across the collection is how country – as style, commodity, rurality and/or nationality – shapes social and cultural identities. Annabel Cooper, Chris Gibson, Loria Maxwell and Kara Stooksbury, Anthony Lambert and Catherine Simpson, and Andrew Gorman-Murray, explore the links between country and national identities, and how these interconnections take both similar and different contours across the United States, Europe and the Antipodes. In their papers, Cooper and Gibson also consider the connections between national identities, country style and gendered subjectivities. Simpson and Lambert, Michael Wesch and Clemence Due, meanwhile, draw attention to the links between land, country and Indigenous subjectivities. In doing so, Due and Lambert and Simpson, as well as Lelia Green, Gerry Bloustien and Mark Balnaves, elicit how discourses of country exclude particular identities, and leave certain social groups with a sense of unease. Terry Maybury, Donna Lee Brien and Jesse Schlotterbeck focus on the broader intermingling of rurality, regionality and identity. Another key theme traced through the papers is how county is also linked with a range of media and cultural commodities. Country music is most well-known in this regard, but also prominent are country and western films and country cooking. Several authors in this collection – Gibson, Maxwell and Stooksbury, and Brien – show the ongoing importance of these products, and their role in linking different notions of country across the scales and sites of the rural, the national and the transnational. Cooper, Schlotterbeck, and Lambert and Simpson reveal how ideas of country seep into films not specifically designated as country films, such as the noir, period and thriller genres. The deployment of country in a range of other cultural and media products is explored in this collection as well, including print news media (Due; Gorman-Murray), tourist promotions (Brien; Gorman-Murray), archival photographs (Gorman-Murray), statecraft (Wesch), and social mores and practices of belonging, attachment and alienation (Green et al; Maybury). Importantly, then, the papers in this collection, drawing on a range of data, entry points and conceptual lenses, explore the way different meanings and scales country overlap, and how notions of country ‘travel’ between places and contexts, in the process transforming and taking on new inflections. In the lead paper, Annabel Cooper explores the way country, national identities and feminine subjectivities come together in Jane Campion’s Portrait of a Lady. In this evocative discussion she shows how gender is modulated by national identities as much as other subjectivities, and moreover, how the insertion of an Antipodean femininity in the film version of Portrait reworked the geographical underpinnings of Henry James’ novel. She argues that the United States’ national self-imagination has moved on in the century between the novel and the film, and that Campion rearticulated the story through a feminine Antipodean lens. In Campion’s Portrait, notions of country and narratives of national femininities travel not only between the United States and Europe, but between the Americas and the Antipodes as well. Chris Gibson provides a complementary piece. Focusing on the imagery and lyrics of country sheet music in pre-war Australia, he shows how masculinities are inflected by discourses of both country-as-rurality and country-as-nation. In this case, images of masculinities from the American West insinuated into Australia through the trans-Pacific transaction of country music, particularly in the simultaneously visual and oral register of sheet music. For both Gibson and Cooper, country, whether associated with rurality or nationality, is not singularly emplaced, but travels transnationally as well. Lori Maxwell and Kara Stooksbury also turn their attention to country music. In their case the focus is contemporary country music in the United States, and the role this genre and its artists has played in recent American political culture, particularly Republican positions on ‘love of country’ and national allegiance. Their analysis shows how country, as a commodity linked with a particular species of rurality, is used by presidents, politicians and commentators to frame discourses of patriotic nationalism and appropriate notions of American belonging. Also focusing on cultural production in the United States’ context, Jesse Schlotterbeck critically examines the diverse roles of rurality and rural places in film noir, helping to define a subgenre of ‘rural noir’. He not only discusses the deployment of the rural in noir as a place of goodness, decency and traditional values, but also how the rural is simultaneously drawn into networks of crime, and even becomes a haven for criminality. This adds to work which challenges the romantic idyllisation of the countryside as a site of moral integrity and a store of ‘proper’ national cultural values. Anthony Lambert and Catherine Simpson similarly raise the spectre of criminality in the countryside through film analysis, but their focus is on the Australian film Jindabyne and the associated geographical context of the Australian Alps. The issues around criminality and country(side) in their analysis is broader than legal transcendence, encompassing contemporary cultural politics and social justice. Jindabyne’s narrative focus on the murder of a young Aboriginal woman provides a catalyst for interrogating Indigenous dispossession, postcolonial race relations, environmental change, and the shifting senses of belonging to country for settler Australians negotiating this ‘aftermath culture’. Andrew Gorman-Murray also concentrates on the Australian Alps, and explores the changing links between this countryside and national identity in a postcolonial settler society, but his cultural political context and catalyst are different: the threats to landscape, country and national values from imminent climate change impacts in the Australian Alps. Cultural dimensions and meanings of climate change are an emerging and important research concern (Hulme), and his analysis demonstrates how national identities and ideals of country(side) are reconfigured through the anticipated effects of climate change on the landscape. The next few papers turn to minority or Indigenous social groups’ belonging and attachment to country, both as nation and (home)land, through various experiences of insecurity. Lelia Green, Gerry Bloustien and Mark Balnaves discuss their survey finding that Jewish-Australians express the highest level of fear amongst religious groups in this country. Analysing both survey responses and additional narratives, they comprehensively interpret this heightened fear through intersecting contemporary processes of terror, insecurity, anti-Semitism, and diasporic community-formation, which collide in the context of cultural and political rhetoric about national homeland security. Complimenting both this paper and Simpson and Lambert’s discussion, Clemence Due considers the vexed question of who can lay claim to country in Australia – understood at-once as the nation, the rural countryside, and its resources – in the cultural political context of Indigenous dispossession and native title issues. She examines how this debate – about negotiating Indigenous rights to country in a political and legal context of white sovereignty – has been depicted in The Australian during 2008. Michael Wesch explores similar tensions between government authority and Indigenous sovereignty in a different context, that of New Guinea. His ethnographic analysis is evocative, showing the quite different concepts of country deployed by the state and local peoples in relation to land, settlement and governance, where Indigenous relational connections to land and belonging rub up against the categorical imperatives of statecraft. The final two papers return to rural and regional areas of Australia, and consider embodied connections to place for settler Australians. Situating her discussion within the academic arenas of food studies and the cultural economy, Donna Lee Brien provides an illuminating analysis of the role and significance of rural and regional chefs within their local communities. Her geographical focus is Armidale and Guyra, in northern New South Wales. Linking country as a generic commodity and as a rural locality, she shows how ‘foodie culture’ is not merely a tourist drawcard, but also deeply implicated in the maintenance of the local community. Terry Maybury, meanwhile, delivers a provocative discussion of the links between country, regionality and belonging through a diagrammatical analysis of ‘home’ – home understood as both “the virtuality of digital flows and the reality of architectural footings.” In this conceptualisation, home provides a nexus for self in a global/regional network, the site which allows one to gather the various elements, scales and nuances of country together in a comprehensible fashion. Home, in this way, lies at the heart of country, and makes sense of all its multifarious and interleaving dimensions and meanings. I would also like to acknowledge and thank Rohan Tate, our cover artist, for providing a photographic montage of ‘country’ which draws together the various strands explored through this collection – as nationality, rurality and commodity. The collection of various signifiers and objects prompts one to question what country is and where it is to be found. I extend thanks to those who reviewed the submissions for this issue. I trust the readers find this collection of papers as stimulating as I have. I hope the juxtaposition of various takes on country, and discussions of how those meanings and experiences intermingle, prompt further exploration and conceptualisation of the discursive and material significance of country in contemporary society and culture. References Bell, David. “Variations on the Rural Idyll.” Handbook of Rural Studies. Eds. Paul Cloke, Terry Marsden and Patrick Mooney. London: Sage, 2006. 149-160. Burnley, Ian and Peter Murphy. Sea Change: Movement from Metropolitan to Arcadian Australia. Sydney: UNSW Press, 2004. Costello, Lauren. “Going bush: the implications of urban-rural migration.” Geographical Research 45.1 (2007): 85-94. Hulme, Mike. “Geographical work at the boundaries of climate change.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 33.1 (2008): 5-11. Little, Jo and Patricia Austin. “Women and the Rural Idyll.” Journal of Rural Studies 12.1 (1996): 101-111. McCarthy, James. “Rural Geography: Globalizing the Countryside.” Progress in Human Geography 32.1 (2008): 129-137.

A slash manip is a photo remix that montages visual signs from popular media with those from gay pornography, creating a new cultural artefact. Slash (see Russ) is a fannish practice that homoeroticises the bonds between male media characters and personalities—female pairings are categorised separately as ‘femslash’. Slash has been defined almost exclusively as a female practice. While fandom is indeed “women-centred” (Bury 2), such definitions have a tendency to exclude male contributions. Remix has been well acknowledged in discussions on slash, most notably video remix in relation to slash vids (Kreisinger). Non-written slash forms such as slash vids (see Russo) and slash fanart (see Dennis) have received increased attention in recent years. This article continues the tradition of moving beyond fiction by considering the non-written form of slash manips, yet to receive sustained scholarly attention. Speaking as a practitioner—my slash manips can be found here—I perform textual analysis from an aca–fan (academic and fan) position of two Merlin slash manips by male Tumblr artist wandsinhand. My textual analysis is influenced by Barthes’s use of image semiotics, which he applies to the advertising image. Barthes notes that “all images are polysemous”, that underlying their signifiers they imply “a ‘floating chain’ of signifieds, the reader able to choose some and ignore others” (274). That said, the advertising image, he argues, constructs an “undoubtedly intentional […] signification”, making it ideally suited for analysis (270). By supplementing my analysis with excerpts from two interviews I conducted with wandsinhand in February and April 2013 (quoted here with permission), I support my readings with respect to the artist’s stated ‘intentional reading’. I then contextualise these readings with respect to canon (Merlin) representations and gay pornography—via the chosen sexual acts/positions, bukkake and doggystyle, of the pornographic base models, as selected by the artist. This approach allows me to examine the photo remix qualities of slash manips with respect to the artist’s intentions as well as how artistic choices of inclusion function to anchor meaning in the works. I describe these choices as the ‘semiotic significance of selection’. Together the readings and interviews in this article help illustrate the value of this form and the new avenues it opens for slash scholars, such as consideration of photo remix and male production, and the importance of gay pornography to slash. My interviews also reveal, via the artist’s own assessment of the ‘value’ of his practice, a tendency to devalue or overlook the significance of this particular slash form, affirming a real need for further critical engagement with this under-examined practice. Slash Photo Remix: Famous Faces, Porny Bodies Lessig defines remix culture as based on an activity of “rip, mix and burn” (12–5); while Navas describes it as a “practice of cut/copy and paste” (159)—the latter being more applicable to photo remix. Whereas Lessig is concerned primarily with issues of copyright, Navas is interested in remix’s role in aesthetics and the political economy. Within fan studies, slash vids—a form of video remix—has been a topic of considerable academic interest in recent years. Slash manips—a form of photo or image remix—however, has not attracted the same degree of interest. Stasi’s description of slash as “a non-hierarchical, rich layering of genres” points to the usefulness of slash manips as an embodiment of the process of slash; whereby artists combine, blend and mutate graphic layers from popular media with those from gay pornography. Aesthetics and the slash manip process are central concerns of this article’s consideration of slash photo remix. Slash manips, or slash photo montage, use image manipulation software (Adobe Photoshop being the community standard, see wandsinhand’s tutorial) to layer the heads of male fictional characters from stills or promotional images with scenes—static or moving—from gay pornography. Once an artist has selected pornographic ‘base models’ anatomically suited to canon characters, these models are often then repositioned into the canon universe, which in the case of Merlin means a medieval setting. (Works not repositioned and without added details from canon are generally categorised as ‘male celebrity fakes’ rather than ‘slash manips’.) Stedman contends that while many fan studies scholars are interested in remix, “studies commonly focus on examples of remixed objects rather than the compositional strategies used by remix composers themselves” (107). He advocates moving beyond an exclusive consideration of “text-centred approaches” to also consider “practice-” and “composer-centred” approaches. Such approaches offer insight into “the detailed choices composers actually make when composing” (107). He refers to recognition of the skills required by a remix composer as “remix literacy” (108). This article’s consideration of the various choices and skills that go into the composition of slash manips—what I term the ‘semiotic significance of selection’—is explored with respect to wandsinhand’s practice, coupling my reading—informed by my experience as a practitioner—with the interpretations of the artist himself. Jenkins defines slash as “reaction against” constructions of male sexuality in both popular media and pornography (189). By their very nature, slash manips also make clear the oft-overlooked connections between slash and gay pornography, and in turn the contributions of gay male participants, who are well represented by the form. This contrasts with a tendency within scholarship to compare slash with heterosexual female forms, such as the romance genre (Salmon and Symons). Gay pornography plays a visible role in slash manips—and slash vids, which often remix scenes from popular media with gay cinema and pornography. Slash as Romance, Slash as Pornography Early scholarship on slash (see Russ; Lamb and Veith) defines it as a form of erotica or pornography, by and for women; a reductive definition that fails to take into account men’s contribution, yet one that many researchers continue to adopt today. As stated above, there has also been a tendency within scholarship to align the practice with heterosexual female forms such as the romance genre. Such a tendency is by and large due to theorisation of slash as heterosexual female fantasy—and concerned primarily with romance and intimacy rather than sex (see Woledge). Weinstein describes slash as more a “fascination with” than a “representation of” homosexual relationships (615); while MacDonald makes the point that homosexuality is not a major political motivator for slash (28–9). There is no refuting that slash—along with most fannish practice—is female dominated, ethnographic work and fandom surveys reveal that is the case. However there is great need for research into male production of slash, particularly how such practices might challenge reigning definitions and assumptions of the practice. In similar Japanese practices, for example, gay male opposition to girls’ comics (shōjo) depicting love between ‘pretty boys’ (bishōunen) has been well documented (see Hori)—Men’s Love (or bara) is a subgenre of Boys’ Love (or shōnen’ai) predominately created by gay men seeking a greater connection with the lived reality of gay life (Lunsing). Dennis finds male slash fanart producers more committed to muscular representations and depiction of graphic male/male sex when compared with female-identifying artists (14, 16). He also observes that male fanart artists have a tendency of “valuing same-sex desire without a heterosexual default and placing it within the context of realistic gay relationships” (11). I have observed similar differences between male and female-identifying slash manip artists. Female-identifying Nicci Mac, for example, will often add trousers to her donor bodies, recoding them for a more romantic context. By contrast, male-identifying mythagowood is known for digitally enlarging the penises and rectums of his base models, exaggerating his work’s connection to the pornographic and the macabre. Consider, for example, mythagowood’s rationale for digitally enlarging and importing ‘lips’ for Sam’s (Supernatural) rectum in his work Ass-milk: 2012, which marks the third anniversary of the original: Originally I wasn’t going to give Sammy’s cunt any treatment (before I determined the theme) but when assmilk became the theme I had to go find a good set of lips to slap on him and I figured, it’s been three years, his hole is going to be MUCH bigger. (personal correspondence, used with permission) While mythagowood himself cautions against gendered romance/pornography slash arguments—“I find it annoying that people attribute certain specific aspects of my work to something ‘only a man’ would make.” (ibid.)—gay pornography occupies an important place in the lives of gay men as a means for entertainment, community engagement and identity-construction (see McKee). As one of the only cultural representations available to gay men, Fejes argues that gay pornography plays a crucial role in defining gay male desire and identity. This is confirmed by an Internet survey conducted by Duggan and McCreary that finds 98% of gay participants reporting exposure to pornographic material in the 30-day period prior to the survey. Further, the underground nature of gay pornographic film (see Dyer) aligns it with slash as a subcultural practice. I now analyse two Merlin slash manips with respect to the sexual positions of the pornographic base models, illustrating how gay pornography genres and ideologies referenced through these works enforce their intended meaning, as defined by the artist. A sexual act such as bukkake, as wandsinhand astutely notes, acts as a universal sign and “automatically generates a narrative for the image without anything really needing to be detailed”. Barthes argues that such a “relation between thing signified and image signifying in analogical representation” is unlike language, which has a much more ‘arbitrary’ relationship between signifier and signified (272). Bukkake and the Assertion of Masculine Power in Merlin Merlin (2008–12) is a BBC reimagining of the Arthurian legend that focuses on the coming-of-age of Arthur and his close bond with his manservant Merlin, who keeps his magical identity secret until Arthur’s final stand in the iconic Battle of Camlann. The homosexual potential of Merlin and Arthur’s story—and of magic as a metaphor for homosexuality—is something slash fans were quick to recognise. During question time at the first Merlin cast appearance at the London MCM Expo in October 2008—just one month after the show’s pilot first aired—a fan asked Morgan and James, who portray Merlin and Arthur, is Merlin “meant to be a love story between Arthur and Merlin?” James nods in jest. Wandsinhand, who is most active in the Teen Wolf (2011–present) fandom, has produced two Merlin slash manips to date, a 2013 Merlin/Arthur and a 2012 Arthur/Percival, both untitled. The Merlin/Arthur manip (see Figure 1) depicts Merlin bound and on his knees, Arthur ejaculating across his face and on his chest. Merlin is naked while Arthur is partially clothed in chainmail and armour. They are both bruised and dirty, Arthur’s injuries suggesting battle given his overall appearance, while Merlin’s suggesting abuse, given his subordinate position. The setting appears to be the royal stables, where we know Merlin spends much of his time mucking out Arthur’s horses. I am left to wonder if perhaps Merlin did not carry out this duty to Arthur’s satisfaction, and is now being punished for it; or if Arthur has returned from battle in need of sexual gratification and the endorsement of power that comes from debasing his manservant. Figure 1: wandsinhand, Untitled (Merlin/Arthur), 2013, photo montage. Courtesy the artist. Both readings are supported by Arthur’s ‘spent’ expression of disinterest or mild curiosity, while Merlin’s face emotes pain: crying and squinting through the semen obscuring his vision. The artist confirms this reading in our interview: “Arthur is using his pet Merlin to relieve some stress; Merlin of course not being too pleased about the aftermath, but obedient all the same.” The noun ‘pet’ evokes the sexual connotations of Merlin’s role as Arthur’s personal manservant, while also demoting Merlin even further than usual. He is, in Arthur’s eyes, less than human, a sexual plaything to use and abuse at will. The artist’s statement also confirms that Arthur is acting against Merlin’s will. Violence is certainly represented here, the base models having been ‘marked up’ to depict sexualisation of an already physically and emotionally abusive relationship, their relative positioning and the importation of semen heightening the humiliation. Wandsinhand’s work engages characters in sadomasochistic play, with semen and urine frequently employed to degrade and arouse—“peen wolf”, a reference to watersports, is used within his Teen Wolf practice. The two wandsinhand works analysed in this present article come without words, thus lacking a “linguistic message” (Barthes 273–6). However even so, the artist’s statement and Arthur’s stance over “his pet Merlin” mean we are still able to “skim off” (270) the meanings the image contains. The base models, for example, invite comparison with the ‘gay bukkake’ genre of gay pornography—admittedly with a single dominant male rather than a group. Gay bukkake has become a popular niche in North American gay pornography—it originated in Japan as a male–female act in the 1980s. It describes a ritualistic sexual act where a group of dominant men—often identifying as heterosexual—fuck and debase a homosexual, submissive male, commonly bareback (Durkin et al. 600). The aggression on display in this act—much like the homosocial insistency of men who partake in a ‘circle jerk’ (Mosher 318)—enables the participating men to affirm their masculinity and dominance by degrading the gay male, who is there to service (often on his knees) and receive—in any orifice of the group’s choosing—the men’s semen, and often urine as well. The equivalencies I have made here are based on the ‘performance’ of the bukkake fantasy in gay niche hazing and gay-for-pay pornography genres. These genres are fuelled by antigay sentiment, aggression and debasement of effeminate males (see Kendall). I wish here to resist the temptation of labelling the acts described above as deviant. As is a common problem with anti-pornography arguments, to attempt to fix a practice such as bukkake as deviant and abject—by, for example, equating it to rape (Franklin 24)—is to negate a much more complex consideration of distinctions and ambiguities between force and consent; lived and fantasy; where pleasure is, where it is performed and where it is taken. I extend this desire not to label the manip in question, which by exploiting the masculine posturing of Arthur effectively sexualises canon debasement. This began with the pilot when Arthur says: “Tell me Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?” Of the imported imagery—semen, bruising, perspiration—the key signifier is Arthur’s armour which, while torn in places, still ensures the encoding of particular signifieds: masculinity, strength and power. Doggystyle and the Subversion of Arthur’s ‘Armoured Self’ Since the romanticism and chivalric tradition of the knight in shining armour (see Huizinga) men as armoured selves have become a stoic symbol of masculine power and the benchmark for aspirational masculinity. For the medieval knight, armour reflects in its shiny surface the mettle of the man enclosed, imparting a state of ‘bodilessness’ by containing any softness beneath its shielded exterior (Burns 140). Wandsinhand’s Arthur/Percival manip (see Figure 2) subverts Arthur and the symbolism of armour with the help of arguably the only man who can: Arthur’s largest knight Percival. While a minor character among the knights, Percival’s physical presence in the series looms large, and has endeared him to slash manip artists, particularly those with only a casual interest in the series, such as wandsinhand: Why Arthur and Percival were specifically chosen had really little to do with the show’s plot, and in point of fact, I don’t really follow Merlin that closely nor am I an avid fan. […] Choosing Arthur/Percival really was just a matter of taste rather than being contextually based on their characterisations in the television show. Figure 2: wandsinhand, Untitled (Arthur/Percival), 2012, photo montage. Courtesy the artist. Concerning motivation, the artist explains: “Sometimes one’s penis decides to pick the tv show Merlin, and specifically Arthur and Percival.” The popularity of Percival among manip artists illustrates the power of physicality as a visual sign, and the valorisation of size and muscle within the gay community (see Sánchez et al.). Having his armour modified to display his muscles, the implication is that Percival does not need armour, for his body is already hard, impenetrable. He is already suited up, simultaneously man and armoured. Wandsinhand uses the physicality of this character to strip Arthur of his symbolic, masculine power. The work depicts Arthur with a dishevelled expression, his armoured chest pressed against the ground, his chainmail hitched up at the back to expose his arse, Percival threading his unsheathed cock inside him, staring expressionless at the ‘viewer’. The artist explains he “was trying to show a shift of power”: I was also hinting at some sign of struggle, which is somewhat evident on Arthur’s face too. […] I think the expressions work in concert to suggest […] a power reversal that leaves Arthur on the bottom, a position he’s not entirely comfortable accepting. There is pleasure to be had in seeing the “cocky” Arthur forcefully penetrated, “cut down to size by a bigger man” (wandsinhand). The two assume the ‘doggystyle’ position, an impersonal sexual position, without eye contact and where the penetrator sets the rhythm and intensity of each thrust. Scholars have argued that the position is degrading to the passive party, who is dehumanised by the act, a ‘dog’ (Dworkin 27); and rapper Snoop ‘Doggy’ Dogg exploits the misogynistic connotations of the position on his record Doggystyle (see Armstrong). Wandsinhand is clear in his intent to depict forceful domination of Arthur. Struggle is signified through the addition of perspiration, a trademark device used by this artist to symbolise struggle. Domination in a sexual act involves the erasure of the wishes of the dominated partner (see Cowan and Dunn). To attune oneself to the pleasures of a sexual partner is to regard them as a subject. To ignore such pleasures is to degrade the other person. The artist’s choice of pairing embraces the physicality of the male/male bond and illustrates a tendency among manip producers to privilege conventional masculine identifiers—such as size and muscle—above symbolic, nonphysical identifiers, such as status and rank. It is worth noting that muscle is more readily available in the pornographic source material used in slash manips—muscularity being a recurrent component of gay pornography (see Duggan and McCreary). In my interview with manip artist simontheduck, he describes the difficulty he had sourcing a base image “that complimented the physicality of the [Merlin] characters. […] The actor that plays Merlin is fairly thin while Arthur is pretty built, it was difficult to find one. I even had to edit Merlin’s body down further in the end.” (personal correspondence, used with permission) As wandsinhand explains, “you’re basically limited by what’s available on the internet, and even then, only what you’re prepared to sift through or screencap yourself”. Wandsinhand’s Arthur/Percival pairing selection works in tandem with other artistic decisions and inclusions—sexual position, setting, expressions, effects (perspiration, lighting)—to ensure the intended reading of the work. Antithetical size and rank positions play out in the penetration/submission act of wandsinhand’s work, in which only the stronger of the two may come out ‘on top’. Percival subverts the symbolic power structures of prince/knight, asserting his physical, sexual dominance over the physically inferior Arthur. That such a construction of Percival is incongruent with the polite, impeded-by-my-size-and-muscle-density Percival of the series speaks to the circumstances of manip production, much of which is on a taste basis, as previously noted. There are of course exceptions to this, the Teen Wolf ‘Sterek’ (Stiles/Derek) pairing being wandsinhand’s, but even in this case, size tends to couple with penetration. Slash manips often privilege physicality of the characters in question—as well as the base models selected—above any particular canon-supported slash reading. (Of course, the ‘queering’ nature of slash practice means at times there is also a desire to see such identifiers subverted, however in this example, raw masculine power prevails.) This final point is in no way representative—my practice, for example, combines manips with ficlets to offer a clearer connection with canon, while LJ’s zdae69 integrates manips, fiction and comics. However, common across slash manip artists driven by taste—and requests—rather than connection with canon—the best known being LJ’s tw-31988, demon48180 and Tumblr’s lwoodsmalestarsfakes, all of whom work across many fandoms—is interest in the ‘aesthetics of canon’, the blue hues of Teen Wolf or the fluorescent greens of Arrow (2012–present), displayed in glossy magazine format using services such as ISSUU. In short, ‘the look’ of the work often takes precedent over canonical implications of any artistic decisions. “Nothing Too Serious”: Slash Manips as Objects Worth Studying It had long been believed that the popular was the transient, that of entertainment rather than enlightenment; that which is manufactured, “an appendage of the machinery”, consumed by the duped masses and a product not of culture but of a ‘culture industry’ (Adorno and Rabinbach 12). Scholars such as Radway, Ang pioneered a shift in scholarly practice, advancing the cultural studies project by challenging elitism and finding meaning in traditionally devalued cultural texts and practices. The most surprising outcome of my interviews with wandsinhand was hearing how he conceived of his practice, and the study of slash: If I knew I could get a PhD by writing a dissertation on Slash, I would probably drop out of my physics papers! […] I don’t really think too highly of faking/manip-making. I mean, it’s not like it’s high art, is it? … or is it? I guess if Duchamp’s toilet can be a masterpiece, then so can anything. But I mainly just do it to pass the time, materialise fantasies, and disperse my fantasies unto others. Nothing too serious. Wandsinhand erects various binaries—academic/fan, important/trivial, science/arts, high art/low art, profession/hobby, reality/fantasy, serious/frivolous—as justification to devalue his own artistic practice. Yet embracing the amateur, personal nature of his practice frees him to “materialise fantasies” that would perhaps not be possible without self-imposed, underground production. This is certainly supported by his body of work, which plays with taboos of the unseen, of bodily fluids and sadomasochism. My intention with this article is not to contravene views such as wandsinhand’s. Rather, it is to promote slash manips as a form of remix culture that encourages new perspectives on how slash has been defined, its connection with male producers and its symbiotic relationship with gay pornography. I have examined the ‘semiotic significance of selection’ that creates meaning in two contrary slash manips; how these works actualise and resist canon dominance, as it relates to the physical and the symbolic. This examination also offers insight into this form’s connection to and negotiation with certain ideologies of gay pornography, such as the valorisation of size and muscle. 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