Статті в журналах з теми "Venus Bay (Vic )"

We describe a 9-day-old baby with coarctation of the aorta who required urgent resuscitation including intubation and cardiac compressions. Despite the commencement of prostaglandin E1 (PGE1) to reopen the ductus arteriosus via the intraosseous route, postductal saturations remained unrecordable for a further 45 min. Within 3 min of administration of PGE1 via an umbilical venous catheter (UVC), saturations were recordable at 92%. UVC access was the sentinel intervention that irrevocably altered the clinical prognosis. This baby boy has survived with excellent neurodevelopmental outcome. Clinicians are less familiar with UVCs outside of the newborn period. Our data demonstrate successful placement in neonates up to 28 days of age. We hope this case encourages clinicians to consider the UVC as first-line central venous access in collapsed neonates. In cases of suspected left heart obstruction, we argue that UVCs are the optimal route.

Abstract Background: Platelets are versatile cells and play important roles in hemostasis/thrombosis, inflammation, and atherosclerosis. The pathogenesis of cardiovascular diseases (CVDs) is linked to platelet hyperactivity which is considered an independent risk factor for CVDs. Platelets are critical for promoting the progression of CVDs, and platelet apoptosis have been reported to be involved in platelet activation. Anthocyanins are major phytochemicals abundant in plant food and have been shown to play a protective role against CVDs. Our previous studies demonstrated that anthocyanins from plant food significantly inhibited platelet activation, adhesion, aggregation and granule secretion, as well as attenuated thrombus growth at both arterial and venous shear stresses in vitro and in vivo, however, the effects of anthocyanin on platelet apoptosis and its mechanisms have not been explored. In the present study, we examined whether anthocyanin Cyanidin-3-glucoside (Cy-3-g) affect platelet apoptosis and the BCL-2/BCL-XL intrinsic apoptotic pathway. Methods: Cy-3-g, the predominant bioactive compound of anthocyanin preparations, was obtained from Polyphenol AS Company in Norway.Purified gel-filtered platelets from healthy volunteers were incubated at 37oC for 40 minutes with different concentrations of Cy-3-g (0.5、5、50μM) or PBS buffer as a control. the activated platelets were triggered with 0.5U thrombin for 15min to induce apoptosis. Mitochondria membrane potential (Δψm) and membrane phospholipid phosphatidylserine (PS) exposure in both activated and resting platelets were assessed by flow cytometry. Cytochrome C release, activation of caspase-3, caspase-8, caspase-9, cleavage of gelsolin, the levels of anti-apoptotic BCL-2 family proteins such as BCL-2, BCL-XL and proapoptotic BCL-2 family proteins Bax, Bak, Bad, Bid and tBid in both activated and resting platelets were measured by western blotting. Results: Cy-3-g at 5μM and 50μM directly induced significant ΔΨm dissipation in activated platelets dose dependently. Correspondingly, 50μM Cy-3-g increased cytochrome C release compared to control. The expression of pro-caspase-8 and pro-caspase-9 decreased, activation of caspase-3, caspase-8 and caspase-9 was induced in activated platelets in both 5μM and 50μM Cy-3-g groups. Both PS exposure and the cleavage of gelsolin increased in activated platelets, however these effects were only observed at Cy-3-g doses as high as 50μM. Cy-3-g did not induce the above changes in resting platelets. The intrinsic apoptotic pathway was initiated by Cy-3-g treatment in activated platelets; Cy-3-g significantly inhibited the expression of BCL-2, BCL-XL and increased the levels of Bax, Bak, Bad and Bid in activated platelets dose dependently. No significant difference was observed in resting platelets. Conclusions: Our data demonstrate for the first time that purified anthocyanin Cy-3-g directly accelerated apoptosis in activated platelets via the BCL-2/BCL-XL pathway. Anthocyanins may possess therapeutic potential for patients suffering from thrombotic conditions. Disclosures No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

In animals, the blockade of acid-sensing ion channels (ASICs), cation pore-forming membrane proteins located in the free nerve endings of group IV afferent fibers, attenuates increases in arterial pressure (AP) and sympathetic nerve activity (SNA) during muscle contraction. Therefore, ASICs play a role in mediating the metabolic component (skeletal muscle metaboreflex) of the exercise pressor reflex in animal models. Here we tested the hypothesis that ASICs also play a role in evoking the skeletal muscle metaboreflex in humans, quantifying beat-by-beat mean AP (MAP; finger photoplethysmography) and muscle SNA (MSNA; microneurography) in 11 men at rest and during static handgrip exercise (SHG; 35% of the maximal voluntary contraction) and postexercise muscle ischemia (PEMI) before (B) and after (A) local venous infusion of either saline or amiloride (AM), an ASIC antagonist, via the Bier block technique. MAP (BAM +30 ± 6 vs. AAM +25 ± 7 mmHg, P = 0.001) and MSNA (BAM +14 ± 9 vs. AAM +10 ± 6 bursts/min, P = 0.004) responses to SHG were attenuated under ASIC blockade. Amiloride also attenuated the PEMI-induced increases in MAP (BAM +25 ± 6 vs. AAM +16 ± 6 mmHg, P = 0.0001) and MSNA (BAM +16 ± 9 vs. AAM +8 ± 8 bursts/min, P = 0.0001). MAP and MSNA responses to SHG and PEMI were similar before and after saline infusion. We conclude that ASICs play a role in evoking pressor and sympathetic responses to SHG and the isolated activation of the skeletal muscle metaboreflex in humans. NEW & NOTEWORTHY We showed that regional blockade of the acid-sensing ion channels (ASICs), induced by venous infusion of the antagonist amiloride via the Bier block anesthetic technique, attenuated increases in arterial pressure and muscle sympathetic nerve activity during both static handgrip exercise and postexercise muscle ischemia. These findings indicate that ASICs contribute to both pressor and sympathetic responses to the activation of the skeletal muscle metaboreflex in humans.

LBA8512 Background: Patients with hepatic metastases from primary melanoma have a median survival between 6 and 9 months. Few treatment strategies provide a meaningful impact on outcome. This report examines the efficacy of a minimally invasive regional therapy with melphalan (MEL) in patients with hepatic metastases from malignant melanoma. Methods: Between February 2006 and October 2009, 93 patients (M:F; 45:48) were accrued to a phase III, random-assignment trial comparing percutaneous hepatic perfusion (PHP-mel) (n=44) to standard of care (BAC) (n=49). This represents 100% of a planned 92 patient accrual. The primary endpoint was hepatic progression-free survival (H-PFS). Crossover to PHP-mel therapy was permitted at hepatic progression. Secondary endpoints included assessment of response rate (RR), duration of response (RES), and overall survival (OS) after PHP. A planned PHP treatment regimen included 4 to 6 PHP procedures at 28 to 35 day intervals. MEL (3.0 mg/kg) was delivered via the hepatic artery in a 30-minute hepatic artery infusion via a percutaneously placed catheter with hepatic venous hemofiltration using a retrohepatic, double balloon catheter (Delcath Systems, Inc.) and paired hemofiltration cartridges. Patients randomized to BAC were offered treatment considered to be the best alternative regimen by the treating physician. Staging evaluations were performed at baseline and then at 6 to 8 week intervals post baseline. All responses represent investigator-based results and were evaluated via standard RECIST criteria. Intent to treat based survival analysis was via the Kaplan-Meier method, with a 2-sided p< 0.05 defining significance. Results: Median H-PFS was 245 days (CI:136, 267) for PHP-mel vs. 49 days (CI:43, 68) for BAC (p<0.001). Overall response rate was 34.1 % (15/44) (CI: 20.5, 49.9) for PHP (15/44) vs. 2.0 % (1/49) (CI: 0.1, 10.9) for BAC (p<0.001). Upon hepatic progression, crossover to PHP occurred in 27 patients (55%) randomized to BAC. Conclusions: For patients with metastatic melanoma to the liver, H-PFS is significantly improved with PHP-mel versus best available care. [Table: see text]

Background. In recent years, Kansas has ranked 40th among all states for worst infant mortality rates. For African American infant mortality, Kansas had the highest rate in the nation. Because of these statistics, initiatives have been implemented to reduce these rates by the KIDS Network, in partnership with the Black Nurses Association and the National Association of Hispanic Nurses. The purpose was to describe participants’ knowledge and intentions regarding safe sleep following a Community Baby Shower. Methods. The Community Baby Shower was targeted to African American women via black churches, physician offices, clinics, black sororities, word of mouth, radio, and print. All Baby Shower participants were asked to complete a brief survey following the shower. Results. The majority were African American (61%) with a high school diploma or less schooling (63%). Nearly all (97%) planned to place their baby supine for sleep. However, less than half (47%) planned to have the baby sleep in the parents’ room in a separate crib. Attendees exhibited high levels of safe sleep knowledge, stated intentions to utilize most safe sleep recommendations, and reported babies would have slept in unsafe environments without the portable crib. Conclusions. Our Baby Showers were attended by the target audience, who exhibited high levels of safe sleep knowledge, and stated intentions to utilize most safe sleep recommendations following the Shower. However, some participants were resistant to following at least some of the recommendations. Additional venues and other educational strategies may be needed to maximize the uptake of these recommendations.

Abstract IL-17 is a recently discovered cytokine that can be released from activated human CD4+ T lymphocytes. This study assessed the proinflammatory effects of human (h) IL-17 in the airways. In vitro, hIL-17 increased the release of IL-8 in human bronchial epithelial and venous endothelial cells, in a time- and concentration-dependent fashion. This effect of hIL-17 was inhibited by cotreatment with an anti-hIL-17 Ab and was potentiated by hTNF-α. In addition, hIL-17 increased the expression of hIL-8 mRNA in bronchial epithelial cells. Conditioned medium from hIL-17-treated bronchial epithelial cells increased human neutrophil migration in vitro. This effect was blocked by an anti-hIL-8 Ab. In vivo, intratracheal instillation of hIL-17 selectively recruited neutrophils into rat airways. This recruitment of neutrophils into the airways was inhibited by an anti-hIL-17 Ab and accompanied by increased levels of rat macrophage inflammatory protein-2 (rMIP-2) in bronchoalveolar lavage (BAL) fluid. The BAL neutrophilia was also blocked by an anti-rMIP-2 Ab. The effect of hIL-17 on the release of hIL-8 and rMIP-2 was also inhibited by glucocorticoids, in vitro and in vivo, respectively. These data demonstrate that hIL-17 can specifically and selectively recruit neutrophils into the airways via the release of C-X-C chemokines from bronchial epithelial cells and suggest a novel mechanism linking the activation of T-lymphocytes to recruitment of neutrophils into the airways.

Introduction Granulocytapheresis from healthy volunteer donors are performed regularly at our institution to treat severely neutropenic leukemia/SCT patients with overwhelming bacterial/fungal infections. 500 to 750 mL of Hespan® (6% hetastarch in 0.9% sodium chloride injection) with citrate anticoagulant is administered by aseptic addition to the input line of the centrifugation apparatus at a ratio of 1:13 to venous whole blood. The traditional method of gravity sedimentation of Granulocyte concentrates (GC) is the addition of 50 cc of 6% Hydroxyethyl starch in ACD anticoagulant which results in RBC volume reduction to &lt; 5ml (range acceptable for transfusion to ABO incompatible recipients according to AABB standards). The method is time consuming, tedious and adds additional HES to the product. We streamlined the process by allowing the sedimented red cells to drain via gravity upon completion of the apheresis procedure without the addition of Hetastarch. Method: GCs are obtained from prescreened eligible (meet AABB/FDA guidelines) family/friends of the patients. G-CSF is administered as a fixed dose of 480 mcg (donors &lt; 250 lbs.) or as 2 doses of 300/480 mcg (donors &gt; 250 lbs) plus 8 mg of dexamethasone (without history of cataracts) 12 hours prior to the collection. 30 ml of TriCitrasol Anticoagulant (46.7% Trisodium citrate) is added to 500 ml of 6% Hetastarch in 0.9% Sodium Chloride Injection for IV use only and not more than 1000 ml is used in a single GC apheresis procedure. Our current practice is to test all O blood group donors for Anti-A Isoagglutinin titers. Cut off titers are set at &lt;128. GCs from group O donors with Anti-A titers &gt; 128 are drained of red cells if the recipient is non-O. For pediatric patients, our practice is to drain all GC products regardless of ABO compatibility between donor and recipient. Process: Upon completion of the Granulocytaheresis, the GC collection bag is left undisturbed hanging on the IV pole leaving all slips clamps attached. Red cells collected during the apheresis procedure settle at the base the collection bag. The collection line of the GC collection bag is clamped distal to the attachment of the sterile barrier filter inclusive of the sample bulb assembly. The clamp proximal to the sample bulb assembly needs to be left clamped. The collection bag is then sterile docked to a transfer bag (the plasma bag from the IDL set can be used) to create a closed sterile system. Two hemostats clamps are placed, one close to the inlet port of the collection bag and the other close to the sterile dock of the transfer bag. The clamps are opened slowly and the sedimented red cells are allowed to slowly drain into the transfer bag. Pressure using two fingers may be used to create a funnel to express the sedimented red cells into the port from the GC unit. When the desired amount of red cells are expressed into the transfer bag the process is stopped. The transfer bag is then removed by clamping and a relatively clean GC product is now available for transfusion. The entire process takes approximately 10-15 minutes. The GC bag is then sampled via the incorporated sample bulbs for the bag count, then labelled ready for release for transfusion. Results: We reviewed the results of six drained GCs by this method; the median Bag RBC was 0.8 x10e6/uL (range 0.06 - 0.23), Bag Hgb 0.8 g/dL (range 0.5-1.0) and Bag Hematocrit 0.7% (range 0.6-2.6). The median Bag WBC count was 10.6 x 10e10 (range 5.8 to 15.1), median bag volume 641 mL (range 462-774) and median volume processed 10526 ml (range 8800-12175 mL). We achieved our goal of reducing the red cells to &lt;2 ml, providing a GC with more than the minimum yield (1.0 x 10e10) required according to AABB standards and also the availability of a GC product within 2 hours of completion for transfusion. Discussion: The use of the newer Apheresis machine allows for efficient removal of the targeted component and monitors/adjusts the depth at which the cells are collected within the Buffy coat layer based on the desired hematocrit of the collected product. Our practice is to collect a relatively clean GC product where there is less than 2 mL of red cell contamination in the GC unit. However, this is not always achieved and the GC units do have to be drained. Approximately 10-25 mL of red cells are drained depending on the collection and the GC units drained in this manner are comparable to the GCs drained after the addition of 50 cc of Hetastarch to the GC product. Disclosures No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

China Shale-Gas Field Sets Production Record Sinopec recorded China’s highest daily output of shale gas at 20.62 million cubic meters (Mcm) at its Fuling shale-gas field in Chongqing, China, a key gas source for the Sichuan-East gas pipeline. The first major commercial shale-gas project in China, Fuling has continuously broken records for the shortest gasfield drilling cycle while significantly increasing the drilling of high-quality reservoirs covering more than 3 million m, according to Sinopec. Gasfield production construction was also expanded to raise production capacity. The company said the field maintains a daily output of 20 Mcm, producing an estimated 6.7 Bcm per year. Apache and Total Plan Suriname Appraisals Apache filed appraisal plans for its Maka and Sapakara oil discoveries in block 58 offshore Suriname. The company said another submission is expected for Kwaskwasi, the largest find in the block, by the end of the year. Operations continue for Keskesi, the fourth exploration target. There are plans to drill a fifth prospect at Bonboni in the North-Central portion of the concession. Partner company Total is assuming operatorship of the block ahead of next year’s campaigns. BP Emerges as Sole Bid for Offshore Canada Parcels BP was the only operator to place a bid in the Canada-Newfoundland and Labrador Offshore Petroleum Board (C-NLOPB) Call for Bids NL20-CFB01, which offered 17 parcels (4,170,509 hectares) in the eastern Newfoundland region. The successful bid was for Parcel 9 (covering 264,500 hectares) for $27 million in work commitments from BP Canada Energy Group. Subject to BP satisfying specified requirements and receiving government approval, the exploration license will be issued in January 2021. No bids were received for the remaining 16 parcels, which may be reposted in a future Call for Bids. Criteria for selecting a winning bid is the total amount the bidder commits to spend on exploration of the parcel during the first period of a 9-year license, with a minimum acceptable bid of $10 million in work commitments for each parcel. Beach Energy To Drill Otway Basin Well Beach Energy plans to drill at its Artisan-1 well about 32 km offshore Victoria, Australia, in the Otway basin, before the end of 2021. The well, located on Block Vic/P43, was to be spudded in 1H 2020 but was delayed due to COVID-19. The timeframe for drilling was confirmed by the National Offshore Petroleum Safety and Environmental Management Authority, which also said Beach is keeping open the option to suspend the well and develop it, pending reservoir analysis. Anchors, mooring chains, and surface buoys have already been laid for the well, which is in a water depth of approximately 71 m. The well is expected to take approximately 35–55 days to drill, depending on the final work program and potential operational delays. Diamond Offshore’s semisubmersible Ocean Onyx was contracted for the drilling program. Artisan is the first of Beach’s planned multiwell campaigns, which also include development wells at the Geographe and Thylacine fields. Hess Completes Sale of Interest in Gulf of Mexico Field Hess completed the sale of its 28% working interest in the Shenzi Field in the deepwater Gulf of Mexico (GOM) to BHP, the field’s operator, for $505 million. Shenzi is a six-lease development structured as a joint ownership: BHP (operator, 44%), Hess (28%), and Repsol (28%). The acquisition would bring BHP’s working interest to 72%, adding approximately 11,000 BOE/D of production (90% oil). The sale is expected to close by December 2020. Hess CEO John Hess said proceeds from the sale will help fund the company’s investment in Guyana. Greenland Opens New Offshore Areas Greenland opened three new offshore areas for application of oil and gas exploitation licenses off West Greenland. The areas are Baffin Bay, Disko West, and Davis Strait. The country also said it is working on an oil strategy to reduce geological uncertainty by offering an investment package to companies that engage in its Open Door Procedures. The procedures are a first-mover advantage to remove national oil company Nunaoil, as a carried partner, reducing turnover and surplus royalties. It is estimated to reduce the government take by 51.3% to 40.6%. Shell and Impact Oil & Gas Agree to South Africa Farmout Africa Oil announced Impact Oil & Gas entered into two agreements for exploration areas offshore South Africa. The company has a 31.10% share-holding in Impact, a privately owned exploration company. Impact entered into an agreement with BG International, a Shell subsidiary, for the farm-out of a 50% working interest and operatorship in the Transkei and Algoa exploration rights. Shell was also granted the option to acquire an additional 5% working interest should the joint venture (JV) elect to move into the third renewal period, expected in 2024. Algoa is located in the South Outeniqua Basin, east of Block 11B/12B, containing the Brulpadda gas condensate discovery and where Total recently discovered gas condensate. The Transkei block is northeast of Algoa in the Natal Trough Basin where Impact has identified highly material prospectivity associated with several large submarine fan bodies, which the JV will explore with 3D seismic data and then potential exploratory drilling. Impact and Shell plan to acquire over 6,000 km² of 3D seismic data during the first available seismic window following completion of the transaction. This window is expected to be in the Q1 2022. After the closing of the deal, Shell will hold a 50% interest as the operator and Impact will hold 50%. Impact also entered into an agreement with Silver Wave Energy for the farm-in of a 90% working interest and operatorship of Area 2, offshore South Africa. East and adjacent to Impact’s Transkei and Algoa blocks, Area 2 complements Impact’s existing position by extending the entire length of the ultradeepwater part of the Transkei margin. Together, the Transkei and Algoa Blocks and Area 2 cover over 124,000 km2. Area 2 has been opened by the Brulpadda and Luiperd discoveries in the Outeniqua Basin and will be further tested during 2021 by the well on the giant Venus prospect in ultradeepwater Namibia, where Impact is a partner. Impact believes there is good evidence for this Southern African Aptian play to have a common world-class Lower Cretaceous source rock, similar excellent-quality Apto-Albian reservoir sands, and a geological setting suitable for the formation of large stratigraphic traps. Following completion of the farm-in, Impact will hold 90% interest and serve as the operator; Silver Wave will hold 10%. Petronas Awards Sarawak Contract to Seismic Consortium The seismic consortium comprising PGS, TGS, and WesternGeco was awarded a multiyear contract by Petronas to acquire and process up to 105,000 km2 of multisensor, multiclient 3D data in the Sarawak Basin, offshore Malaysia. The contract award follows an ongoing campaign by the consortium in the Sabah offshore region, awarded in 2016, in which over 50,000 km2 of high-quality 3D seismic data have been acquired and licensed to the oil and gas industry to support Malaysia license round and exploration activity. The Sarawak award will allow for a multiphase program to promote exploration efforts in the prolific Sarawak East Natuna Basin (Deepwater North Luconia and West Luconia Province). The consortium is planning the initial phases and is engaging with the oil and gas industry to secure prefunding ahead of planned acquisition, covering both open blocks and areas of existing farm-in opportunities. Total Discovers Second Gas Condensate in South Africa Total made a significant second gas condensate discovery on the Luiperd prospect, located on Block 11B/12B in the Outeniqua Basin, 175 km off the southern coast of South Africa. The discovery follows the adjacent play-opening Brulpadda discovery in 2019. The Luiperd-1X well was drilled to a total depth of about 3,400 m and encountered 73 m of net gas condensate pay in well-developed, good-quality Lower Cretaceous reservoirs. Following a coring and logging program, the well will be tested to assess the dynamic reservoir characteristics and deliverability. The Block 11B/12B covers an area of 19,000 km2, with water depths ranging from 200 to 1800 m. It is operated by Total with a 45% working interest, alongside Qatar Petroleum (25%), CNR International (20%), and Main Street, a South African consortium (10%). The Luiperd prospect is the second to be drilled in a series of five large submarine fan prospects with direct hydrocarbon indicators defined utilizing 2D and 3D seismic data. BP Gas Field Offshore Egypt Begins Production BP started gas production from its Qattameya gasfield development ‎offshore Egypt in the North Damietta offshore concession. Through BP’s joint venture Pharaonic Petroleum Company working with state-owned Egyptian Natural Gas Holding Co., the field, which is ‎expected to produce up to 50 MMcf/D, was developed through a one-well subsea development and tieback to existing infrastructure.‎ Qattameya, whose discovery was announced in 2017, is located approximately 45 km west ‎of the Ha’py platform, in 108 m of water. It is tied back to the Ha’py and Tuart field ‎development via a new 50-km pipeline and connected to existing subsea ‎utilities via a 50-km umbilical. ‎BP holds 100% equity in the North Damietta offshore concession in the East Nile Delta. ‎Gas production from the field is directed to Egypt’s national grid.

The aim of the present study was to investigate whether the dihydropyridine-sensitive L-type Ca2+ channel is operative in adrenal catecholamine (CA) secretion induced by a novel neuropeptide, pituitary adenylate cyclase-activating polypeptide (PACAP), in anesthetized dogs. Plasma CA concentrations in adrenal venous and aortic blood were determined by a high-performance liquid chromatography method. All drugs tested were locally infused into the left adrenal gland via the left adrenolumbar artery. PACAP, with the isoform consisting of 27 (PACAP-27) and 38 (PACAP-38) amino acid residues, significantly increased CA output in a dose-dependent manner, with doses ranging from 5 to 500 ng and 7 to 700 ng, respectively. However, the amplitude of epinephrine response to PACAP-27 was three times greater than that obtained with PACAP-38 at the highest dose tested. In a separate group, a single dose of PACAP-27 (50 ng) induced highly reproducible CA responses when the same dose was repeated with an interval of 35 min. In dogs treated with nifedipine (50 μg), 5 min before the second administration of PACAP-27, the net CA response was significantly inhibited by ∼50% compared with that obtained in the presence of vehicle. A similar CA response to BAY K 8644 (5 μg) was completely abolished by the same dose of nifedipine. The present results indicate that both PACAP-27 and PACAP-38 have the direct local secretagogue effect on the adrenal medulla in vivo and that CA responses to PACAP-27 were greater than those observed with PACAP-38 at equivalent mole doses. The study suggests that the dihydropyridine-sensitive L-type Ca2+ channel is functionally involved in PACAP-induced adrenal CA secretion in the canine adrenal medulla in vivo.

ObjectiveTo assess the safety and feasibility of small volume plasma exchange (SVPE) for patients with Guillain-Barré syndrome (GBS).DesignNon-randomised, single-arm, interventional trial.SettingNational Institute of Neurosciences and Hospital, Dhaka, Bangladesh.ParticipantsTwenty adult (>18 years) patients with GBS presented within 2 weeks of onset of weakness who were unable to walk unaided for more than 10 m.InterventionsSVPE involves blood cell sedimentation in a blood bag and removal of supernatant plasma after blood cells are retransfused. This procedure was repeated three to six times a day, for eight consecutive days. Fresh frozen plasma (FFP) and normal saline were used as replacement fluid.Outcome measuresSerious adverse events (SAEs) were defined as severe sepsis and deep venous thrombosis related to the central venous catheter (CVC) used during SVPE. SVPE was considered safe if less than 5/20 patients experienced an SAE, and feasible if 8 L plasma could be removed within 8 days in at least 15/20 patients.ResultsMedian patient age 33 years (IQR 23–46; range 18–55); 13 (65%) were male. Median Medical Research Council (MRC) sum score was 20 (IQR 0–29; range 0–36); three (15%) patients required mechanical ventilation. One patient developed SAE (severe sepsis, possibly related to CVC). The median plasma volume exchanged was 140 mL/kg (range 110–175) and removal of 8 L plasma was possible in 15 (75%) patients. Patients received a median 1 g/kg IgG via FFP although a substantial proportion of IgG was probably removed again by the SVPE sessions. GBS disability score improved by at least one grade in 14 (70%) patients 4 weeks after SVPE started. No patients died.ConclusionSVPE seems a safe and feasible alternative treatment to standard plasma exchange (PE) or intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIg) for GBS; further studies of clinical efficacy in low-income and middle-income countries are warranted.Trial registration numberNCT02780570.

6622 Background: Allogeneic granulocyte transfusion therapy is sometimes the only therapeutic option in immunocompromised neutropenic leukemic/HSCT patients with life threatening bacterial and fungal infections. Collection of larger cell doses of granulocyte concentrates (GC) by automated apheresis following G-CSF/steroids administration has renewed interest and its use has grown steadily. Methods: Donors were recruited from family/friends of the patients and informed consent was obtained. GCs were collected via donor stimulation with a single subcutaneous dose of G-CSF (600 mcg). First time donors received an oral dose of dexamethasone (8 mg). GCs were harvested by Hetastarch-assisted leukapheresis 12 hours later via peripheral venous access with the continuous flow cell separator Spectra (COBE Caridian BCT, Lakewood, CO). Results: GCs were collected from 93 donors (67M: 26F; age median 40 (19-73 years) and 1 ½ x blood volume processed median 7048 (3212-8085 mL). The pre/post wbc were median 8.1 (4.1-22.8)/ 42.7 (22.4-77.5). The volume collected was based on the post G-CSF wbc count (> 35 K/UL - 800 mL; <35 K/UL between 600-700 mL). The original yield (10 x10e) was median 9.7 (5.1-17.2 units), volume median 718 (538-860 mL) and WBC median 132.7 (84.2 -241.6 K/UL per bag). The Split GCs were median 4.48 (2.70-7.72 units), with neutrophils median 87% (54-97% per bag). GCs were transfused to 51 patients (31M: 20F; age median 58 [19-83 years]) who received median 3.5 (1-18 split units), containing wbcs median 10734.69 [5778-42 -162698.09 (x10^3/uL)/unit) and achieved a WBC increment median 0.2 (0.0-8.3K/UL). Conclusions: The GCs were split due to the primary care team's reluctance to transfuse the entire volume of the product due to volume restrictions or for some other medical reason. The same rationale to split platelets from high yield single apheresis was used to split our GC products. We found that GCs from each donor was utilized maximally and also brought partial relief to other patients who lacked donors. We would like to make the case that when adequate numbers of GCs are collected it may be feasible to split the unit. This may offer a glimmer of hope to other patients in need of GCs who lack a donor network support.

Abstract Background and Objectives: Pregnancy may be adversely affected by thrombophilia via venous thromboembolism-induced morbidity and mortality or via gestational vascular complications such as fetal loss or preeclampsia. Women with thrombophilia are often prescribed heparin for daily self-injection during pregnancy. The purpose of this study was to explore the unique experiences, challenges, and coping strategies of pregnant women with thrombophilia who are on daily heparin injections. Study Methods: A qualitative, descriptive approach with semi-structured, individual interviews was used. Women with thrombophilia followed at the Thrombosis Clinic of a large university affiliated hospital in Quebec, Canada who were prescribed heparin during pregnancy and who were pregnant at the time of the study or within the last 12 months were eligible. Interviews lasting 45 minutes performed by a trained graduate nursing student were conducted with each participant. Thematic analysis was used throughout the processes of interviewing, transcribing verbatim, and categorizing the data. Results: Nine women (age range 30–36) participated in the study. Four participants had antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, three had the lupus anticoagulant, one had Factor V Leiden and one had Protein S deficiency. For all participants, the diagnosis of thrombophilia was made via blood testing after referral to Clinic for evaluation of multiple early pregnancy losses, late pregnancy losses, or other serious pregnancy complications. None had previous venous thromboembolic events. Four main themes were identified based on analysis of the interview transcripts: the emotional impact of diagnosis and treatment of thrombophilia, which was influenced by past pregnancy experiences as well as the experiences of others; the need for professional support, particularly concerning medical decision-making regarding whether to choose treatment in certain cases, but also with regards to information, injection technique, and emotional needs; uncertainty vis-à-vis treatment outcomes; and successful coping strategies such as taking control and maintaining perspective. Conclusions: This qualitative research shows that, during pregnancy, coping with thrombophilia and daily heparin injections can be a stressful experience. However, the ensuing challenges are perceived as manageable discomforts in light of the outcome of a healthy baby. Implications for health professionals include providing written information to complement explanations given during appointments, standardization of self-injection teaching, establishing peer networks among women who have had similar experiences, and follow-up with a nurse, who can provide ongoing support around coping with uncertainty and the stress of self-injection, revisit the information given, and provide emotional support and referral, if needed. Greater standardization of physician decision making regarding the need for thrombophilia screening and anticoagulation may also be beneficial, since differences in physicians’ approaches across institutions was reported by participants as a source of stress. Nurses, in collaboration with physicians, are in a key position to enhance the quality of care to this population. Further research should evaluate a standardized program based on interventions suggested by this study.

Abstract Abstract 4373 Introduction Granulocyte transfusion has evolved as an accepted therapeutic approach for immunocompromised, severely neutropenic, myelosuppressed leukemic patients or hematopoietic stem cell transplant (HSCT) with life-threatening infections despite appropriate antibiotic therapy. The combination of Growth-stimulating colony factor (G-CSF) and dexamethasone to stimulate granulopoiesis in normal donors has facilitated the collection of larger cell doses of granulocyte concentrations (GCs) via automated apheresis and the use of Hespan-sodium citrate/anticoagulant solution has enhanced the harvesting of GCs yield as high as 800–900 mL ready for infusion. To our knowledge GCs harvested via collection from G-CSF/dexamethasone stimulated donors have been transfused only to single patients. Here we describe the process in splitting the GCs for transfusion to 2 or more patients when the designated patient has volume restrictions. This practice is similar to the double and triple splitting of apheresis platelet concentrates a practice routinely performed at Blood Donor Centers in the USA. METHODS This retrospective study was approved by the Institutional Review Board, written informed consent was obtained and all split GCs between 01/2010 and 12/2011 were reviewed. Donors were recruited from relatives/friends of patients or were community volunteers who underwent screening for infectious diseases according to current regulatory requirements for allogeneic donors. Other eligibility criteria included a biochemical profile (alanine aminotransferase, alkaline phosphatase, total bilirubin, hemoglobin S) and a urine pregnancy test for all female donors. Potential hematopoietic stem cell (HSC) donors were deferred. All eligible donors first underwent a platelet apheresis donation to evaluate their vascular access and to determine whether they could withstand a 2-hour collection via two-arm continuous-flow apheresis. GCs were collected via donor stimulation with a single subcutaneous injection of G-CSF (600 μg; Amgen) and in first-time donors an oral dose of dexamethasone (8 mg) 12 hours prior to the granulocyte collection was also given.GCs were harvested via Hespan-sodium citrate solution (6% hetastarch in 0.9% sodium chloride; Braun, Inc. containing 30 cc of triCitrasol anticoagulant sodium citrate concentrate (46.7% trisodium citrate; Citra Labs) 12 hours after stimulation. Approximately 1.5 × whole blood volumes from each donor was processed via a two-arm peripheral venous access procedure with a COBE Spectra continuous-flow cell separator (CaridianBCT) and COBE Spectra WBC tubing set (CaridianBCT). The decision to split each GC unit was made after determination of the total absolute WBC count upon completion of the granulocyte apheresis. Each GC unit was sterilely connected to a second 600 mL sterile bag via a Terumo sterile tubing welder (TSCD SC-201A, Terumo Medical Corporation) outfitted with TSCD wafers (Terumo Medical Corporation) and then half of the volume was expressed into the second 600-mL bag (Fenwal, Inc.) with the first half remaining in the original bag. The GC units with ABO incompatible red cells with the recipient were filtered via gravity drainage. All GCs were crossmatched, labeled, irradiated (2500 cGy, Cesium-I37 irradiator, IS Bio International) and released for transfusion. RESULTS GCs were collected from 93 donors [67 Males: 26 Females; median age 40 (19–73 years); total volume median 718 mL (range 538–860), original wbc yield median 9.7 10∧10e (range 5.1–17.2) and split GC yield, median 4.48 10∧10e (range 2.70–7.72)]. Split GCs were transfused to 51 patients [31 Males: 20 Females; median age 58 (range 19–83 years); diagnosis-AML/MDS 32 (63%), ALL/CLL 12 (24%), CML 5 (10%), others 2 (3%)]. The patients received median 3.5 split GCs (range 1–18) with a WBC increment median 0.02 × 10∧3/μL (range 0.00 to 8.3). Donors with post stimulation WBC counts 30 K/UL or greater were able to provide GCs volumes sufficient for splitting. DISCUSSION The practice of splitting GCs based on yield and WBC count is a safe process and the product transfused without any patient adverse effects. This approach has allowed maximum use of all collected GCs and has provided GCs to patients who otherwise would not have received GCs. The transfusion of GCs is a complex lengthy process which must be well organized by the blood bank/Blood Donor Center/Apheresis Unit and the oncology team. Disclosures: No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

IntroductionCatheter-related sepsis is one of the most dangerous complications of neonatal intensive care and is associated with significant morbidity and mortality. Use of catheter-care ‘bundles’ has reduced the incidence of catheter-related sepsis, although individual components have not been well studied. Better evidence is needed to guide selection of the most appropriate antiseptic solution for skin disinfection in preterm neonates. This study will inform the feasibility and design of the first randomised controlled trial to examine the safety and efficacy of alcohol-based versus aqueous-based chlorhexidine antiseptic formulations for skin disinfection prior to percutaneous central venous catheterisation in preterm neonates. The antiseptics to be compared are 2% chlorhexidine gluconate (CHG) aqueous and 2% CHG in 70% isopropyl alcohol.Methods and analysisThe Antiseptic Randomised Controlled Trial for Insertion of Catheters (ARCTIC) is a two-centre randomised-controlled feasibility trial. At least 100 preterm infants born at <34 weeks’ gestation and due to undergo percutaneous insertion of a central venous catheter will be randomly allocated to receive prior skin disinfection with one of the two antiseptic solutions. Outcomes include: i) recruitment and retention rates; ii) completeness of data collection; iii) numbers of enrolled infants meeting case definitions for definite catheter-related sepsis, catheter-associated sepsis and catheter colonisation and iv) safety outcomes of skin morbidity scores recorded daily from catheter insertion until 48 hours post removal. The key feasibility metrics will be reported as proportions with 95% CIs. Estimated prevalence of catheter colonisation will allow calculation of sample size for the large-scale trial. The data will inform whether it will be feasible to progress to a large-scale trial.Ethics and disseminationARCTIC has been approved by the National Health Service Health Research Authority National Research Ethics Service Committee East of England (Cambridge South) (IRAS ID 163868), was adopted onto the National Institute of Health Research Clinical Research Network portfolio (CPMS ID 19899) and is registered with an International Standard Randomised Control Trials Number (ISRCTN: 82571474; Pre-results) and European Clinical Trials Database number 2015-000874-36. Dissemination plans include presentations at scientific conferences, scientific publications and sharing of the findings with parents via the support of Bliss baby charity.Trial registration numberISRCTN82571474; Pre-results.

The circadian rhythms of many night-shift workers are maladapted to their imposed behavioural schedule, and this factor may be implicated in the increased occurrence of cardiovascular disease (CVD) reported in shift workers. One way in which CVD risk could be mediated is through inappropriate hormonal and metabolic responses to meals. This study investigated the responses to standard meals at different circadian times in a group of night-shift workers on a British Antarctic Survey station at Halley Bay (75 degrees S) in Antarctica. Twelve healthy subjects (ten men and two women) were recruited. Their postprandial hormone and metabolic responses to an identical mixed test meal of 3330 kJ were measured on three occasions: (i) during daytime on a normal working day, (ii) during night-time at the beginning of a period of night-shift work, and (iii) during the daytime on return from night working to daytime working. Venous blood was taken for 9 h after the meal for the measurement of glucose, insulin, triacylglycerol (TAG) and non-esterified fatty acids. Urine was collected 4-hourly (longer during sleep) on each test day for assessment of the circadian phase via 6-sulphatoxymelatonin (aMT6s) assay. During normal daytime working, aMT6s acrophase was delayed (7.7+/-1.0 h (s.e.m.)) compared with that previously found in temperate zones in a comparable age-group. During the night shift a further delay was evident (11.8+/-1.9 h) and subjects' acrophases remained delayed 2 days after return to daytime working (12.4+/-1.8 h). Integrated postprandial glucose, insulin and TAG responses were significantly elevated during the night shift compared with normal daytime working. Two days after their return to daytime working, subjects' postprandial glucose and insulin responses had returned to pre-shift levels; however, integrated TAG levels remained significantly elevated. These results are very similar to those previously found in simulated night-shift conditions; it is the first time such changes have been reported in real shift workers in field conditions. They provide evidence that the abnormal metabolic responses to meals taken at night during unadapted night shifts are due, at least in part, to a relative insulin resistance, which could contribute to the documented cardiovascular morbidity associated with shift work. When applied to the 20% of the UK workforce currently employed on shift work, these findings have major significance from an occupational health perspective.

Arterio-Venous Malformations (AVMs) are congenital vascular defects1 and are most commonly located in the head and neck area (81%).2 The majority of these were localized over the cheek (31%) , ear(16%), nose (10%), forehead(10%), upper lip (7%),mandible (5%),neck (5%), and scalp and maxilla (4%). 2 There is equal predominance in males and females, and no racial predilection. 2 In general, there is “sparse literature about AVM in the external ear,”3 let alone its occurrence in a pregnant patient. Arterio-venous malformations are composed of a central nidus with anomalous arteriovenous shunts and a network of surrounding collateral vessels.4 The short circuit or shunting between the high pressure arterial and low pressure venous system accounts for much of the clinical presentation, anatomical changes and progression of the lesions. They are usually present at birth but commonly manifest in childhood or adolescence with gradual onset and progression and rarely can be associated with an enlarged heart and high output cardiac failure. 3,5 The size of AVMs may increase rapidly secondary to infection, trauma, ligation or attempted excision, and hormonal influences like pregnancy and puberty.3 We present the case of an AVM occurring in the external ear of a pregnant patient. Case Report A 31-year-old G1P0 patient consulted with a uterine pregnancy of twenty-four weeks and two days age of gestation for an enlarging left external ear mass of approximately two years duration. The patient characterized the mass as initially “pimple-like”, erythematous and nontender. There were no other associated signs and symptoms. The mass persisted despite taking Ciprofloxacin 500 mg twice daily and Mefenamic Acid 500 mg thrice daily for a week. Four months prior to consult, on one of her pre-natal check-ups, the mass was now more visible with an increase in size to about 1.5 x 1.5 x 1.5 cm. She noticed that her hearing was also decreased in the left ear. There were no other associated signs or symptoms. Against her obstetrician’s advice to consult an otolaryngologist, she decided to ignore the mass. A month before consult, the mass was about 2 x 2 x 1.5 cm, was more erythematous but nontender and had bled once (less than 3 mL) after traumatic manipulation. The patient sought an ENT specialist and was advised to consult in our institution. On examination the left external ear had a 2 x 2 x 1.5 cm. erythematous, non-ulcerating mass of the external ear from tragus to external auditory canal. It was soft, compressible, nodular, nontender and pulsatile with a thrill and bruit. An AV malformation was considered. (Figure1) Computed tomography axial and coronal sections revealed a soft tissue mass from tragus to external auditory canal with calcifications. (Figure 2) The rest of the ear structures were normal. Color - doppler ultrasonography showed a 2 x 1.4 x 1.8 cm. congregation of small tubular structures in the subcutaneous area with the tubular mesh showing a diameter of 1.1 and 1.7mm. There was blood flow in the tubular structures with spectral tracing showing mixed arterial and venous flow (arterio-venous malformation was considered). Magnetic resonance angiography (MRA) revealed a feeding vessel possibly from the external carotid artery. (Figure 3) Other examinations (2-D echocardiography and 12-lead ECG) were normal. Pure Tone Audiometry showed a moderately severe mixed hearing loss on the affected ear (left) and normal hearing on the contralateral side. She was closely monitored through her 39th week of pregnancy when she delivered a healthy baby girl via caesarean section. No other complications or problems were encountered after, and she was discharged on the 8th hospital day. We recommended excision of the AV malformation with reconstruction as a future treatment option. DISCUSSION It has been estimated that the coexistence of pregnancy and AVM may result in a 150% increase in cardiac output above normal levels.5 Several cases of high output cardiac failure have been reported in pregnancies related to AVM and beginning a pregnancy with a pre-existing AVM can be dangerous. Progesterone increases venous distensibility during pregnancy and the menstrual cycle and may explain the relationship of AVM and pregnancy. The risk of AVM bleeding is 2 to 3% per year, although we have found no record of bleeding risks in AVM of the external ear in pregnancy. Thus, our patient was closely monitored and was co-managed with her obstetrician on out-patient care.3,4 Women with AVMs in pregnancy that were most likely to bleed tended to be younger (20-25 years) and were usually primiparous. Hemorrhages are most common between 15 and 20 weeks of gestation and could occur at any stage including during labour and in the puerperium.4 There is really no conclusive data regarding AVM hemorrhage risk during pregnancy. According to Ogilvy et al., the incidence of hemorrhage in pregnancy in patients with a prior history of hemorrhage is 5.8% during the year after the last menstrual period, but the number of patients with hemorrhage was small, which made the data nondefinitive. Neither of these rates was significantly different from similar nonpregnant populations.4 Color doppler ultrasonography may be helpful in determining between high- and low- flow lesions in AVM. Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is said to be the diagnosis of choice since it depicts the extent and lack of invasion of these lesions providing multi-planar images and differentiating between high- and low-flow lesions. A Magnetic Resonance Angiogram (MRA) is the same non-invasive study but also examines the blood vessels as well as the structures of the brain, which is very advantageous as a guide if surgery is contemplated.5 Options for definitive management of AVM include observation, corticosteroid therapy, surgery and interferon (INF) therapy. Because the vast majority of AVM are small, well circumscribed, and involute with no sequelae and acceptable cosmetic results, observation remains the preferred management option. Other treatments include surgery, endovascular therapy and radiosurgery. The latter can be used alone or in combination to treat an AVM. Superselective arterial or retrograde venous embolization may also be used as first choice treatment for AVM not amenable to surgery.3,5 Aside from conservative observation, none of these are advisable in pregnant patients.3,5 Hemorrhage during delivery has been a major concern of obstetricians and patients; however, the available data would suggest that in most cases, vaginal delivery does not carry a higher risk for hemorrhage than delivery by cesarean section. There are no data available to address whether cesarean section helps to reduce the already low incidence of AVM-associated complications during delivery, although there is evidence that increased venous pressure during a Valsalva maneuver is not directly transmitted to the draining veins.4 To our knowledge, there is no existing management guideline for AVM in the external ear area in pregnancy. Treatment should be individually planned to minimize further AVM enlargement and cardiovascular complications, utilizing conservative means rather than surgery as a primary option until after the pregnancy has been carried to term.

The Scripps Institution of Oceanography (SIO) at the University of California, San Diego maintains one of the largest combined oceanographic collections in the world comprising four collections: Geological (sediment cores and dredged rocks), Pelagic Invertebrates, Benthic Invertebrates and Marine Vertebrates. After surviving threats of dissolution, the SIO Collections are now securely funded and have been able to make other collections available to the scientific community. Over the last few years, both the Marine Vertebrate (SIO-MVC) and Benthic Invertebrate (SIO-BIC) Collections have received National Science Foundation (NSF) and institutional funding to integrate important at-risk collections from University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) and the University of Victoria. The UCLA Ichthyological Collection, around 9000 lots, was at risk of disposal due to hazardous material concerns and lack of institutional support. The collection, accumulated primarily under Boyd Walker (1949-1980) and later Don Buth (1980-), contains material from extensive surveys of the near-shore fishes of Southern California, Baja California and the Tropical Eastern Pacific including remote oceanic islands such as the Revillagigedos, Clipperton and the Galapagos. The UCLA collection also contains over 150 secondary types and over 100 species new to the SIO-MVC. Due to lack of support, the collection records were never digitized and the collection was minimally curated and its holdings were poorly known. For over two years, the collection manager and student employees have physically re-curated and integrated this material into the SIO-MVC. These data are now available online via iDigBio and VertNet and have already been used in numerous studies. The SIO-BIC, holding 45,000 lots, is accepting ownership of two deep-sea animal collections from Verena Tunnicliffe at the University of Victoria and Robert Vrijenhoek at MBARI. These collections include 10,900+ lots, largely from hydrothermal vents across the Pacific. Collected over 35 years from remote deep-sea sites that are difficult and expensive to access, these collections represent a major resource for systematics, genetics, and ecology. With Dr. Vrijenhoek now retired and Dr. Tunnicliffe nearing retirement, their collections were at risk of being lost. This material will be made discoverable online through the SIO-BIC database and iDigBio, and will be available for loan and examination. In the last year, the collection manager and five undergraduate employees have integrated some 3,000 lots. With support from the institution and the NSF, the SIO collections are solidifying their roles as central repositories for deep-sea and Eastern Pacific fauna.

Introduction: Gestational Alloimmune Liver Disease (GALD) is a rare disease characterized by subacute fetal liver injury and often accompanied by hepatic and extrahepatic iron deposition. Findings include hypoglycemia, coagulopathy, hypoalbuminemia, elevated serum ferritin, elevated alpha-fetoprotein, and ascites. Extrahepatic hemosiderin deposition is often seen in salivary glands. Previously, the mortality rate was close to 80% with all patients needing liver transplantation. With maternal IVIG treatment and changes in neonatal treatment, there is now less than 20% mortality with infrequent need for liver transplantation. Diagnosis of GALD is typically done on a postmortem analysis. Case Description: A term female infant was born via scheduled c-section to a 32 year old G2P1000 mother who had been receiving weekly IVIG during this pregnancy due to the death of her first child at 4 days of life. Autopsy of that female baby demonstrated extensive neuropathological changes, liver steatosis, iron depletion, and ascites, consistent with GALD. Following delivery of our current patient, there was an elevated alpha-fetoprotein (greater than 80,000), decreased fibrinogen, and coagulopathy with peak international normalized ratio of 1.6. The patient received fresh frozen plasma and IVIG on day of life 1 with improvement of these levels. Complete blood count, liver function tests, and ammonia were within normal limits. An MRI of the liver demonstrated normal size, morphology, and normal iron levels based on T2 relaxometry. A buccal biopsy did not demonstrate extrahepatic iron deposition. MRI of the brain showed significant stenosis of the right transverse and sigmoid sinus relating to dural venous sinus thrombosis. There was no evidence of parenchymal infarction and no evidence of iron deposition. At this time, enoxaparin was initiated. The patient was discharged home on day of life nine on enoxaparin therapy. Discussion: There are few reported cases of patients with GALD, especially after maternal IVIG treatment. This case report exemplifies the effect of antenatal IVIG infusions during subsequent pregnancies in women with a history of GALD in prior children. This effect is protective, evidenced by lack of liver injury noted in this patient. This supports the use of immunotherapy during pregnancy to prevent recurrence of alloimmune injury. References: 1. Is exchange transfusion a possible treatment for neonatal hemochromatosis? Giuseppina Timpani-Francesca Foti-Antonino Nicolò-Pier Nicotina-Emanuele Nicastro-Raffaele Iorio - Journal of Hepatology - 2007 2. Medical and surgical treatment of neonatal hemochromatosis: Single center experience-Thomas Heffron-Todd Pillen-David Welch-Massimo Asolati-Gregory Smallwood-Phil Hagedorn-Carlos Fasola-David Solis-John Rodrigues-Jill Depaolo-James Spivey-Enrique Martinez-Stuart Henry-Rene Romero - Pediatric Transplantation - 2007 3. Neonatal Hemochromatosis: A Congenital Alloimmune Hepatitis - Peter Whitington - Seminars in Liver Disease - 2007 4. Neonatal hemochromatosis: The importance of early recognition of liver failure Pankaj Vohra-Cindy Haller-Sukru Emre-Margret Magid-Ian Holzman-Ming Ye-Elizaveta Iofel-Benjamin Shneider - The Journal of Pediatrics - 2000 5. Neonatal Liver Cirrhosis Without Iron Overload Caused by Gestational Alloimmune Liver Disease. Debray-François Guillaume de Halleux- Virginie Guidi-Ornella Detrembleur-Nancy Gaillez-Stéphanie Rausin-Léon Goyens-Philippe Pan-Xiaomin Whitington Peter-Pediatrics-2012 6. Neonatal Liver Failure and Congenital Cirrhosis due to Gestational Alloimmune Liver Disease: A Case Report and Literature Review Oscar Roos Mariano da Rocha Carolina-Renata Rostirola Guedes- Carlos Oscar Kieling- Marina Rossato Adami- Carlos Thadeu Schmidt Cerski- Sandra Maria Conçalvez Vieria - Hindawi - 2017 Image: (A) MRI liver showing normal appearance without evidence of hemochromatosis (B) MRI brain showing no evidence of iron deposition within the brain parenchyma (C) MRV head showing right transverse and sigmoid venous sinus thrombosis Figure Disclosures No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

Eni Starts Area 1 Production off Mexico via MODEC FPSO MODEC said first oil has flowed through FPSO MIAMTE MV34 operating in the Offshore Area 1 block in the Bay of Campeche off Mexico. The contractor was appointed by Eni Mexico for the supply, charter, and operation of the FPSO in the Eni-operated Offshore Area 1 block in 2018. The charter contract will run for an initial 15 years, with options for extension every year thereafter up to 5 additional years. Moored in a water depth of approximately 32 m some 10 km off Mexico’s coast, the FPSO is capable of handling 90,000 B/D of oil, 75 MMcf/D of gas, and 120,000 B/D of water injection with a storage capacity of 700,000 bbl of oil. The FPSO boasts a disconnectable tower yoke mooring system, a first-of-its-kind design in the industry. The system was developed to moor the FPSO in shallow water, while also allowing the unit to disconnect its mooring and depart the area to avoid winter storms and hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico. The mooring system was developed by MODEC subsidiary SOFEC Inc. The mooring jacket was fabricated in Altamira, Mexico. Eni Starts Production from Ndungu EP Development Italy’s Eni has started production from the Ndungu Early Production (EP) development in Block 15/06 of the Angolan deep offshore, via the Ngoma FPSO. With an expected production rate in the range of 20,000 B/D, the project will sustain the plateau of the Ngoma, a 100,000-B/D, zero-discharge, and zero-process-flaring FPSO, upgraded in 2021 to minimize emissions. A further exploration and delineation campaign will be performed in Q2 2022 to assess the full potential of the overall assets of Ndungu. Ndungu EP is the third startup achieved by Eni Angola in Block 15/06 in the past 7 months, after Cuica Early Production and the Cabaca North Development Project. Block 15/06 is operated by Eni Angola with a 36.84% share. Sonangol Pesquisa e Produção (36.84%) and SSI Fifteen Ltd. (26.32%) comprise the rest of the joint venture. Aramco Discovers Natural Gas in Four Regions Saudi Aramco has discovered natural gas fields in four regions of the kingdom, the Saudi Press Agency (SPA) reported, citing Energy Minister Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman. The fields were found in the Empty Quarter desert located in the central area of the kingdom, near its northern border and in the eastern region, he said, according to SPA. Saudi Arabia wants to increase gas production and boost the share of natural gas in its energy mix to meet growing electricity consumption and to make more crude available for export. The minister said an unspecified number of fields were discovered and he mentioned five by name: Shadoon, in the central region; Shehab and Shurfa, in the Empty Quarter in the southeastern region; Umm Khansar, near the northern border with Iraq; and Samna in the eastern region. Two of the gas fields, Samna and Umm Khansar, were said to be “nonconventional” and possibly shale finds. Lukoil Completes Area 4 Deal in Mexico Russian producer Lukoil has completed a deal to become a lead stakeholder in an Area 4 shallow-water asset adjacent to Tabasco and Campeche in Mexico. Under the deal, Lukoil has acquired a 50% stake in the asset from US independent Fieldwood Energy, which filed for US bankruptcy protection in August 2020, for $685 million. The original deal was priced at $435 million; the additional $250 million is related to expenditures Fieldwood incurred since 1 January 2021. Fieldwood committed to invest $477 million to increase oil production from the Ichalkil and Pokoch fields from the current level of 25,000 B/D to a plateau level of 115,000 B/D. Situated in water depths between 35 and 45 m, the fields’ recoverable hydrocarbon reserves amount to 564 million BOE, more than 80% of which is crude oil. Production started in Q4 2021; current average oil production has exceeded 25,000 B/D. The approved work program includes drilling three development wells (two on Ichalkil and one on Pokoch), upgrading three production platforms, and performing seismic reprocessing and petrophysical studies. The remaining 50% stake in Area 4 is held by operator PetroBal, a subsidiary of Mexico’s GrupoBal. Petrobras Sells Polo Norte Capixaba Field Cluster In line with its strategy to concentrate resources on deepwater and ultradeepwater assets, Brazil’s Petrobras has sold 100% of its interest in Norte Capixaba cluster to Seacrest Exploração e Produção de Petróleo Ltda for $544 million, including a $66-million contingent payment. The cluster comprises four producing fields—Cancã, Fazenda Alegre, Fazenda São Rafael, and Fazenda Santa Luzia—and produced 6,470 BOE/D in 2021. The deal also includes the Norte Capixaba Terminal (TNC) and all production facilities. NewMed Targets Morocco Market Entry Israel-based NewMed Energy, formerly Delek Drilling, has identified Morocco as “a country with enormous geological and commercial potential,” in particular the Moroccan coastal areas in the Mediterranean and North Atlantic. The announcement comes a day after the Moroccan Minister of Industry and Trade, Ryad Mezzour, and his Israeli counterpart, Orna Barbivai, signed an MOU aimed at promoting investments and exchanges between the two countries in the digital design, food, automotive, aviation, textile, water technologies and renewable energies, medical equipment, and the pharmaceutical industries. In September 2021, the Israeli oil and gas exploration company obtained from the Moroccan ministry the exploration and study rights of the Dakhla Atlantic Block, which has an area of about 109000 km2. ExxonMobil Sells Nigerian Assets to Seplat ExxonMobil has agreed to sell its shallow-water assets in Nigeria to Seplat Energy for $1.28 billion plus a contingent consideration of $300 million. Seplat said it is acquiring a 40% operating stake in four oil leases to nearly triple its annual net production to 146,000 BOE/D. The deal also includes the Qua Iboe export terminal and a 51% interest in the Bonny River Terminal and natural gas liquids recovery plants at EAP and Oso. It does not include any of ExxonMobil’s deepwater fields in Nigeria. TotalEnergies Discovers Large Oil Field off Namibia TotalEnergies has made a significant discovery of light oil with associated gas on the Venus prospect, located in block 2913B in the Orange Basin, offshore southern Namibia. The Venus 1-X well encountered approximately 84 m of net oil pay in a good-quality Lower Cretaceous reservoir. The find’s potential reserves are estimated at 2 billion bbl of oil. “This discovery offshore Namibia and the very promising initial results prove the potential of this play in the Orange Basin, on which TotalEnergies owns an important position both in Namibia and South Africa,” said Kevin McLachlan, senior vice president exploration at TotalEnergies. “A comprehensive coring and logging program has been completed. This will enable the preparation of appraisal operations designed to assess the commerciality of this discovery.” Block 2913B covers approximately 8215 km2 in deep offshore Namibia. TotalEnergies is the operator with a 40% working interest, alongside QatarEnergy (30%), Impact Oil and Gas (20%), and NAMCOR (10%). CNPC Scoops Ishpingo Drilling Contract The first drilling contract at the Ishpingo oil field near Ecuador’s Yasuni National Park has been awarded to China National Petroleum Corp. (CNPC), Energy Minister Juan Carlos Bermeo told Reuters. Following the approval of a new hydrocarbon law and legislation, Ecuador plans to move forward with auctions and competitive processes for securing foreign and domestic capital for oil and gas exploration, production, transportation, and refining projects. The first drilling campaign to start after an environmental license was granted for the sensitive area will involve 40 wells over the next 18 months. It will focus on the field’s allowed zone without touching an area protected by a court ruling that has prevented extending drilling. Ishpingo is the latest part of the ITT-43 oil field in Ecuador’s Amazonia region to start drilling after Tambococha and Tiputini. It is expected to produce heavy oil to be added to the nation’s output of flagship Napo crude, Bermeo said. BP Brings Hershel Expansion Project On Line in US GOM BP has successfully started production from the Herschel Expansion project in the Gulf of Mexico—the first of four major projects scheduled to be delivered globally in 2022. Phase 1 comprises development of a new subsea production system and the first of up to three wells tied to the Na Kika platform in the Mississippi Canyon area. At its peak, this first well is expected to increase platform annual gross production by an estimated 10,600 BOE/D. The BP-operated well was drilled to a depth of approximately 19,000 ft and is located southeast of the Na Kika platform, approximately 140 miles off the coast of New Orleans. The project provides infrastructure for future well tie-in opportunities. BP and Shell each hold a 50% working interest in the development. Petrobras Kicks off Gulf of Mexico Asset Sales Petrobras has begun an asset sale program in the Gulf of Mexico, in line with the company’s strategy of debt reduction and pivot toward Brazilian deepwater production. The package for sale includes the company’s 20% stake in MP Gulf of Mexico (MPGoM) which holds ownership stakes in 15 fields in partnership with Murphy Oil. In addition to partnership-operated fields, MPGoM owns nonoperated interests in Occidental’s Lucius, Kosmos’ Kodiak, Shell’s Habanero, and Chevron’s St. Malo fields. During the first half of 2021, Petrobras’ share of production was 11,300 BOE/D. ExxonMobil Liza Phase 2 Underway off Guyana ExxonMobil started production of Liza Phase 2, Guyana’s second offshore oil development on the Stabroek Block; total production capacity is now more than 340,000 B/D in the 7 years since the country’s first discovery. Production at the Liza Unity FPSO is expected to reach its target of 220,000 bbl of oil later this year. The Stabroek Block’s recoverable resource base is estimated at more than 10 billion BOE. The current resource has the potential to support up to 10 projects. ExxonMobil anticipates that four FPSOs with a capacity of more than 800,000 B/D will be in operation on the block by year-end 2025. Payara, the third project in the block, is expected to produce approximately 220,000 BOPD using the Prosperity FPSO vessel, currently under construction. The field development plan and application for environmental authorization for the Yellowtail project, the fourth project in the block, have been submitted for government and regulatory approvals. The Liza Unity arrived in Guyana in October 2021. It is moored in water depth of about 1650 m and will store around 2 million bbl of crude. ExxonMobil affiliate Esso Exploration and Production Guyana Ltd. is the operator and holds 45% interest. Hess Guyana Exploration Ltd. holds 30% interest and CNOOC Petroleum Guyana Ltd. holds 25%. Dragon Finds Oil in Gulf of Suez UAE’s Dragon Oil has discovered oil in the Gulf of Suez, according to a statement from the Egyptian Minister of Petroleum and Mineral Resources. The field contains potential reserves of around 100 million bbl inside the northeastern region of Ramadan. That estimate makes it one of the largest oil finds in the region over the past 2 decades. Development plans were not reported but reserve numbers could expand, the ministry said. The oil field is the first discovery by Dragon Oil since it acquired 100% of BP’s Gulf of Suez Petroleum assets in 2019. Dragon Oil, wholly owned by Emirates National Oil Co., holds 100% interest in East Zeit Bay off the southern Gulf of Suez region. The 93-km2 block lies in shallow waters of 10 to 40 m.

Sonadrill Lands Contract for Drillship Seadrill confirmed a new contract has been secured by Sonadrill Holding, Seadrill’s 50:50 joint venture with an affiliate of Sonangol for the drillship West Gemini. Sonadrill has secured a 10‑well contract with options for up to eight additional wells in Angola for an unknown operator. Total contract value for the firm portion of the deal is expected to be around $161 million, with further revenue potential from a performance bonus. The rig is expected to begin the work in the fourth quarter of this year with a firm term of about 18 months, in direct continuation of the West Gemini’s existing contract. The West Gemini is the third drillship to be bareboat chartered into Sonadrill, along with two Sonangol‑owned units, the Sonangol Quenguela and Sonangol Libongos. Seadrill will manage and operate the units on behalf of Sonadrill. Together, the three units position the Seadrill joint venture as an active rig operator in Angola, furthering the goal of building an ultradeepwater franchise in the Golden Triangle and driving efficiencies from rig clustering in the region. Petrobras Receives TotalEnergies, Shell Payments for Atapu TotalEnergies and Shell have formalized payments to Petrobras for separate, minority stakes in the pre‑salt Atapu field in the Santos Basin. TotalEnergies paid $4.7 billion reais ($940 million) while Shell paid closer to $1.1 billion. The Atapu block was acquired by the consortium comprising Petrobras (52.5%), Shell (25%), and TotalEnergies (22.5%) in the Second Bidding Round for the Transfer of Rights auction held 17 December 2021. The payments are compensation for monies spent thus far by Petrobras, which was granted contractual rights to produce 550 million BOE from Atapu in 2010. The partners will now work together to produce additional volumes from the field. Production at Atapu started in June 2020 via the P-70 FPSO. The unit is in about 2000 m of water and has the capacity to produce 150,000 BOED. CNOOC Brings New Bohai Sea Discoveries On Stream CNOOC Limited has kicked off production from its Luda 5‑2 oil field North Phase I project and Kenli 6‑1 oil field 4‑1 Block development project. Luda 5‑2 is in the Liaodong Bay of Bohai Sea, with average water depth of about 32 m and utilizes a thermal recovery wellhead platform and production platform tied into the Suizhong 36‑1 oil field. A total of 28 development wells are planned, including 26 production wells and two water‑source wells. The project is expected to reach its peak production of 8,200 B/D of oil in 2024. Kenli 6‑1 is in the south of Bohai Sea, with average water depth of about 17 m. The resource is being developed by a wellhead platform in addition to fully utilizing the existing processing facilities of the Bozhong 34‑9 oil field. A total of 12 development wells are planned, including seven production wells and five water‑injection wells. The field is expected to reach its peak production of 4,000 B/D of oil later this year. CNOOC Limited is operator and sole owner of the Luda 5‑2 oil field North and the Kenli 6‑1 oil field 4‑1 Block. Stabroek Block Bounty Off Guyana Gets Bigger The partners in the prolific Stabroek Block have again increased the gross discovered recoverable resource estimate for the area offshore Guyana. The owners now believe they have discovered reserves of at least 11 billion BOE, up from the previous estimate of more than 10 billion BOE. The updated resource estimate includes three new discoveries on the block at Barreleye, Lukanani, and Patwa in addition to the Fangtooth and Lau Lau discoveries announced earlier this year. The Barreleye‑1 well encountered approximately 70 m of hydrocarbon‑bearing sandstone reservoirs of which 16 m is high‑quality oil‑bearing. The well was drilled in 1170 m of water and is located 32 km southeast of the Liza field. The Lukanani‑1 well encountered 35 m of hydrocarbon‑bearing sandstone reservoirs of which approximately 23 m is high‑quality oil‑ bearing. The well was drilled in water depth of 1240 m and is in the southeastern part of the block, approximately 3 km west of the Pluma discovery. The Patwa‑1 well encountered 33 m of hydrocarbon‑bearing sandstone reservoirs. The well was drilled in 1925 m of water and is located approximately 5 km northwest of the Cataback‑1 discovery. “These new discoveries further demonstrate the extraordinary resource density of the Stabroek Block and will underpin our queue of future development opportunities,” said John Hess, chief executive of Hess and a partner in Stabroek. The co‑venturers have sanctioned four developments to date on Stabroek with both Liza and Liza Phase 2 on stream. The third planned development at Payara is ahead of schedule and is now expected to come on line in late 2023; it will utilize the Prosperity FPSO with a production capacity of 220,000 BOPD. The fourth development, Yellowtail, is expected to come on line in 2025, utilizing the ONE GUYANA FPSO with a production capacity of 250,000 BOPD of oil. At least six FPSOs with a production capacity of more than 1 million gross BOPD are expected to be on line on the Stabroek Block in 2027, with the potential for up to ten FPSOs to develop gross discovered recoverable resources. The Stabroek Block is 6.6 million acres. ExxonMobil affiliate Esso Exploration and Production Guyana Limited is operator and holds 45% interest; Hess Guyana Exploration holds 30% interest; and CNOOC Petroleum Guyana Limited holds 25%. ConocoPhillips Gets Ekofisk License Extension Norway’s Ministry of Petroleum and Energy (MPE) has extended production licenses in the Greater Ekofisk Area from 2028 to 2048 with ConocoPhillips as operator. The company said the license extension provides long‑term operations and resource management aligned with the company’s long‑term perspective on the Norwegian continental shelf. Fields on the shelf are required to operate with a valid production license where the operator and licensees enter into an agreement with the authorities, including relevant field activities. The authorities may require commitments, leading to increased oil recovery. The existing production licenses 018, 018 B, and 275 in the Greater Ekofisk Area were set to expire on 31 December 2028; however, the MPE approved an extension through 2048. The new terms provide a potential for extending Ekofisk’s lifetime to nearly 80 years. The license partners are ConocoPhillips (operator, 35.11%), TotalEnergies EP Norge (39.896%), Vår Energi (12.388%), Equinor (7.604%), and Petoro (5%). BHP’s Wasabi Disappoints in US GOM Australian operator BHP encountered noncommercial hydrocarbons with its Wasabi‑2 well in the US Gulf of Mexico. BHP said the well in Green Canyon Block 124 was plugged and abandoned following the disappointing results. “This completes the Wasabi exploration program, with results under evaluation to determine next steps,” the company said. The well was targeting oil in an early Miocene reservoir. Transocean drillship Deepwater Invictus spudded the well in 764 m of water in November 2021. The previous Wasabi‑1 well had a mechanical problem and was plugged and abandoned 4 days earlier, prior to reaching its prospective targets. BHP operates Wasabi with a 75% interest. Lukoil Says Titonskaya Holds 150 Million BOE Russia’s Lukoil believes it has discovered around 150 million BOE following analysis of the two wells it drilled at the Titonskaya structure on the Caspian Sea shelf. Work is now underway to refine the seismic models of productive deposits and study deep samples of formation fluids. The results of the assessment will be submitted to the State Reserves Commission of the Russian Federation. The structure is in the central part of the Caspian Sea, not far from the Khazri field. Lukoil drilled the first well at the Titonskaya structure in 2020 and announced the new discovery in April 2021. According to that assessment, the probable geological resources of the Titonskaya are 130.4 million tons. In 2021, drilling of the second prospecting and appraisal well began to identify oil and gas deposits in the terrigenous‑carbonate deposits of the Jurassic‑ Cretaceous age. The well was drilled using the Neptune jackup drilling rig. The new find at Titonskaya will likely be tied into Khazri infrastructure. Petrobras’ Roncador IOR Project Comes On Line Petrobras has successfully started production from the first two wells of the improved oil recovery (IOR) project at the Roncador field in the Campos Basin offshore Brazil. The two wells are the first of a series of IOR wells to reach production. Startup is almost 5 months ahead of schedule and at half of the planned cost, according to partner Equinor. The wells will add a combined 20,000 BOED to Roncador, bringing daily production to around 150,000 bbl and reducing the carbon intensity (emissions per barrel produced) of the field. Through this first IOR project, the partnership will drill 18 wells that are expected to provide additional recoverable resources of 160 million bbl. Improvements in well design and the partners’ combined technological experience are the main drivers behind the 50% cost reduction across the first six wells, including the two in production. Roncador is Brazil’s fifth‑largest producing asset and has been in production since 1999. Petrobras operates the field and holds a 75% stake. In 2018, Equinor entered the project as a strategic partner with the remaining 25% interest. In addition to the planned 18 IOR wells, the partnership believes it can further improve recovery and aims to increase recoverable resources by a total of 1 billion BOE. The field has more than 10 billion BOE in place under a license lasting until 2052. The strategic alliance agreement also includes an energy‑efficiency and CO2‑emissions‑reduction program for Roncador. Gazania-1 To Spud Off South Africa Africa Energy will move ahead with its planned Gazania‑1 wildcat well offshore South Africa after securing partner Eco Atlantic’s $20 million in capital requirements for its portion of the probe. The well will be drilled in Block 2B. Island Drilling semisubmersible Island Innovator has been contracted for the work and is expected to mobilize from its current location in the North Sea for the 45‑day trip to South Africa. The Block 2B joint venture plans to spud the well by October with drilling expected to last 30 days, including a full set of logs if the well is successful. The block has significant contingent and prospective resources in relatively shallow water and contains the A‑J1 discovery that flowed light sweet crude oil to surface. Gazania‑1 will target two large prospects 7 km updip from A‑J1 in the same region as the recent Venus and Graff discoveries. Block 2B is located offshore South Africa in the Orange Basin where both TotalEnergies and Shell recently announced significant oil and gas discoveries offshore Namibia. The block covers 3062 km2 approximately 25 km off the west coast of South Africa near the border with Namibia in water depths ranging from 50 m to 200 m. The Southern Oil Exploration Corp. (Soekor) discovered and tested oil on Block 2B in 1988 with the A‑J1 borehole, which intersected thick reservoir sandstones between 2985 m and 3350 m. The well flowed 191 B/D of 36 °API oil from a 10‑m sandstone interval at around 3250 m. Africa Energy has a 27.5% interest in Block 2B offshore South Africa. The block is operated by a subsidiary of Eco Atlantic which holds a 50% interest. A subsidiary of Panoro Energy holds a 12.5% stake, and Crown Energy AB indirectly holds the remaining 10%. Brazil Grants New Exploration Blocks Brazil’s National Agency of Petroleum, Natural Gas, and Biofuels (ANP) has granted 59 exploratory blocks of oil and natural gas to 13 companies, including Shell, TotalEnergies, and 3R Petroleum. The awards were part of a permanent bid offer round held in Rio de Janiero in April. The auction totaled 422.4 million reais in signature bonuses with leases granted in six Brazilian states: Rio Grande do Norte, Alagoas, Bahia, Espírito Santo, Santa Catarina, and Paraná. The awards will result in investments of 406.3 million reais in the exploratory phase of the contracts. Shell Brazil (70%) was granted six blocks in the Santos Basin in a consortium with the Colombian Ecopetrol (30%). The blocks leases were SM‑1599, SM‑1601, SM‑1713, SM‑1817, SM‑1908, and SM‑1910. TotalEnergies won two areas in the same basin while Brazilian company 3R Petroleum received six areas in the Potiguar Basin. Petro‑Victory was also awarded 19 new blocks in Potiguar, increasing its holdings in Brazil to 38 blocks (37 in Potiguar). The new blocks are nearby Petro‑Victory infrastructure at the Andorinha, Alto Alegre, and Trapia oil fields. Eni Finds More Oil in Egypt’s Western Desert Eni struck new oil and gas reserves with a trio of discoveries in the Meleiha concessions of Egypt’s Western Desert. The finds have already been tied into existing infrastructure in the region and have added around 8,500 BOED to overall production from the area. The operator drilled the Nada E Deep 1X well, which encountered 60 m of net hydrocarbon pay in the Cretaceous‑Jurassic Alam El Bueib and Khatatba formations Meleiha SE Deep 1X well, which found 30 m of net hydrocarbon pay in the Cretaceous‑Jurassic sands of the Matruh Khatatba formations, and the Emry Deep 21 well, which encountered 35 m of net hydrocarbon pay in the massive cretaceous sandstones of Alam El Bueib. The results, added to the discoveries of 2021 for a total of eight exploration wells, give Eni a 75% success rate in the region. The company added that additional exploration activities in the concession are ongoing with “promising indications.” With these discoveries, Eni, through AGIBA, a joint venture between Eni and EGPC, continues to pursue its near‑field strategy in the mature basin of the Western Desert, aimed at maximizing production by containing development costs and minimizing time to market. Eni is planning a new high‑resolution 3D seismic survey in the Meleiha concession this year to investigate the gas potential of the area. Eni is currently the leading producer in Egypt with an equity production of around 360,000 BOED.

The bar-headed goose is famed for migratory flight at extreme altitude. To better understand the physiology underlying this remarkable behavior, we imprinted and trained geese, collecting the first cardiorespiratory measurements of bar-headed geese flying at simulated altitude in a wind tunnel. Metabolic rate during flight increased 16-fold from rest, supported by an increase in the estimated amount of O2 transported per heartbeat and a modest increase in heart rate. The geese appear to have ample cardiac reserves, as heart rate during hypoxic flights was not higher than in normoxic flights. We conclude that flight in hypoxia is largely achieved via the reduction in metabolic rate compared to normoxia. Arterial Po2 was maintained throughout flights. Mixed venous PO2 decreased during the initial portion of flights in hypoxia, indicative of increased tissue O2 extraction. We also discovered that mixed venous temperature decreased during flight, which may significantly increase oxygen loading to hemoglobin.

ObjectivesThis study quantified the secondhand smoke (SHS) concentration in a sample of public places in Vietnam to determine changes in SHS levels 5 years after a public smoking ban was implemented.MethodsTwo monitoring campaigns, one in 2013 (before the tobacco control law was implemented) and another in 2018 (5 years after the implementation of the law) were conducted in around 30 restaurants, cafeterias and coffee shops in major cities of Vietnam. Concentrations of PM2.5, as an indicator of SHS, were measured by portable particulate matter monitors (TSI SidePak AM510 and Air Visual Pro).ResultsThe geometric mean PM2.5 concentration of all monitored venues was 87.7 µg/m3 (83.7–91.9) in the first campaign and 55.2 µg/m3 (53.7–56.7) in the second campaign. Pairwise comparison showed the PM2.5 concentrations in the smoking observed area was triple and double those in the non-smoking area and the outdoor environment. After adjusting for sampling locations and times, the SHS concentration 5 years after the implementation of the tobacco control law reduced roughly 45%.ConclusionThe study results indicate an improvement in air quality in public places in Vietnam via both the reduction in PM2.5 levels and the number of people observed smoking. However, greater enforcement of the free-smoke legislation is needed to eliminate SHS in public places in Vietnam.

Background: The Fick principle (cardiac output (Qc) = oxygen uptake (VO 2 ) / arterio-venous oxygen difference) is used to determine Qc in numerous clinical situations such as ICU care, assessment of the severity of heart failure, pulmonary hypertension, and valvular heart disease. However, complexities of VO 2 measurement have led to the common use of estimated rather than measured VO 2 via the use of equations derived primarily from studies of either infants/children, or lean, healthy adults. The purpose of the present study was to investigate the accuracy of estimated VO 2 in a contemporary clinical setting. Methods: The study included adult patients undergoing right-heart catheterization at our institution for any indication from 1996-2005, with resting VO 2 measured by the gold-standard Douglas bag technique. Resting VO 2 was estimated by a formula derived at our institution (Parkland): VO 2 (ml/min)= 125 (ml/min/m 2 ) × body surface area (m 2 ); and also by published formulae of LaFarge and Bergstra. Overall agreement between estimated and measured VO 2 was assessed by mean absolute difference using ordinary least products regression, and t-test or trend testing across strata of BMI, sex, and age. Results: The study comprised 535 subjects, mean age 55 yrs, mean BMI 28.4 kg/m 2 ; 47% men; 36% White, 31% Black, and 27% Hispanic. Overall, mean measured VO 2 was 241.0 ± 56.6 ml/min; estimated vs. measured VO 2 differed significantly using the Parkland formula, with a mean absolute difference of 35.6 ± 29.9 ml/min (14.8% error; p<0.0001). Significant overall disagreement between estimated and measured VO 2 was also evident using both the LaFarge and Bergstra formulae (45.6 ± 35.3 ml/min & 38.0 ± 29.6 ml/min, respectively; p<0.0001 for each). Using the Parkland formula, 17% of subjects had >25% error; even greater proportional disagreement was observed using the LaFarge and Bergstra formulae (Figure). With the Parkland formula, mean absolute difference was significantly greater for BMI ≥40 kg/m 2 vs. <25 kg/m 2 (53.9 ml/min vs. 31.6 ml/min; p trend =0.001), with qualitatively similar results observed using both the LaFarge and Bergstra formulae. Mean absolute differences differed negligibly in analyses stratified by sex and by median-split age (55 yrs) using each formula. Conclusions: Resting VO 2 estimates are inaccurate, especially in severely obese individuals, and translate into the same proportional errors in Qc estimation. When accurate hemodynamic assessment is important for clinical decision-making, VO 2 should be measured and not estimated.

Post-graduate doctors typically apply for speciality training during, or soon after, the Foundation Two Year, however many have very limited exposure to Paediatrics. This was compounded during the COVID-19 pandemic, as access to taster days was significantly reduced. Previously, simulation-based taster days in Undergraduate Medicine [1] and Anaesthetics [2] have been shown to be valuable. We therefore provided an ‘Introduction to Paediatrics’ course aimed at doctors with an interest in pursuing a career in Paediatrics. The aims of the course were to: experience a range of common Paediatric presentations and procedural skills, learn about applying for Paediatrics, and learn about a career in Paediatrics. Learners attended a one-day face-to-face programme held in our Learning and Resource centre, including a simulation suite. Learners were exposed to four scenarios designed to cover a wide range of common Paediatric scenarios. These included: bronchiolitis in an ex-preterm baby; bilious vomiting in a neonate; febrile seizures; and diagnosis of diabetes in a teenager. The scenarios were designed to be challenging but accessible to doctors without previous experience of Paediatrics. An embedded faculty member in the role of a Paediatric registrar was available to provide support during the scenario if requested. Complementing these scenarios were two procedural skills stations (neonatal life support and umbilical venous catheterisation), and a series of short talks on a career in Paediatrics. The participants were asked to feedback via an online survey. Nine foundation doctors attended the pilot course. Only one of them had any formal postgraduate experience in Paediatrics, and all of them were considering applying to Paediatric training. All the participants stated that they would recommend the course to someone who was considering Paediatric training and that the day was useful in deciding whether to do Paediatrics training or not. Using a Likert scale, they rated all the scenarios and the procedural skills as ‘Good’ or ‘Very good’. When asked to give a star rating out of 5, the mean was 4.9. This course appears to be an effective way of providing foundation doctors with a ‘taster’ of Paediatrics. The participants enjoyed the course and would recommend it to others. Although not a substitute for clinical Paediatric experience, it provides another opportunity for interested foundation doctors to learn about a specialty. Based on the success of this course, we hope to deliver this course on a regular basis. 1. Thorley-Dickinson V, Kasfiki E, Stephenson T, Purva M.‘A day in the life of a doctor’: Simulation-based taster day for college students intending to apply to medical school. BMJ Simulation and Technology Enhanced Learning. 2014;1:A47 2. Khoud, Ahmed Ben, Matthew Aldridge and Jeremy Purdell-Lewis. ‘P8 The anaesthetic taster course: our experience of running a simulation taster course with near-peer tutors.’ BMJ Simulation and Technology Enhanced Learning. 2018;4:A54–A55.

Abstract Background A 68 year old patient with squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) of lower oesophagus (T3N0M0) presented for Ivor Lewis oesopphagectomy (ILO) following neoadjuvant chemoradiotherapy. Four years previously the patient had undergone total laryngectomy, radical right neck dissection with right pectoralis major flap and bilateral adjuvant radiotherapy for hypopharyngeal SCC (pT3N2bM0). A tracheal stoma was present with speaking valve in-situ. An ILO was planned requiring one lung ventilation (OLV) to facilitate surgical access. In our institution, OLV is routinely achieved via double lumen endotracheal tube (DLT), although endobronchial blocker through single lumen endotracheal tube or laryngeal mask airway and endobronchial intubation with a single lumen tube are potential options. Post laryngectomy the method used for lung isolation is limited and care must be taken not to traumatise the stoma site or surrounding tissue. Additionally, the angulation formed by the trachea and stoma mean a DLT is often not suitable while specific double lumen tracheostomy tubes may have too great a diameter for a small stoma. Surgically, close relations of the tumour to gastro-oesophageal junction, left diaphragmatic crus and descending thoracic aorta made suitability for resection uncertain, despite two negative staging laparoscopies. We describe the anaesthetic and surgical management of this interesting case. Methods General anaesthesia was delivered via an intravenous induction and maintenance was with sevoflurane. Airway management included bag mask ventilation with a neonatal facemask followed by placement of an 8mm reinforced endotracheal tube through the tracheal stoma. Prior to right thoracotomy a right sided 9Fr VivaSight endobronchial blocker (Ambu) was placed under direct vision using a single use Ambu aScope™ 4 Broncho Slim fibreoptic bronchoscope. OLV was successful using this method; SpO2 ≥96% (FiO2 0.6) and peak inspiratory pressure 18–20cmH2O-1. Analgesia comprised intrathecal morphine, right erector spinae plane local anaesthetic block and infusion catheter and morphine PCA. Abdominal phase was undertaken laparoscopically. The hiatus was noted to be fibrotic following chemoradiotherapy and a small capsular breach of the left lobe of liver occurred, controlled with Surgiflo (Ethicon). A right thoracotomy was performed through the 6th intercostal space. Right lung was deflated and surgical access was adequate. OrVil (Covidien – Medtronic) anastomosis was attempted but the anvil was unable to pass through the pharynx, therefore a purse string applicator was applied and OrVil staple used. The left pleura was also breached during dissection. One left and two right chest drains were placed. Results Postoperatively, analgesia was adequate and the patient did not require any cardiovascular or respiratory support. However, on first postoperative day it was noted that the speaking valve was not functioning causing significantly hoarse voice. A valve leak was detected and though hard to know the precise cause, it was assumed that it had become dislodged via either anaesthetic procedures, surgical handling or a combination. Despite some improvement in the symptoms over the first post-operative week, the patient also experienced airway soiling on commencing oral intake and after review by ENT a new valve was successfully sited and all symptoms resolved. Although a minor and easily rectifiable complication, the ‘loss of voice’ was very distressing for the patient. The patient had an otherwise uneventful postoperative course and was discharged home on day-11. Clinic review at six weeks revealed the patient had made a complete recovery and had resumed all normal activities. Histology showed scattered small foci of moderately differentiated SCC infiltrating the muscularis propria (stage ypT2). Longitudinal margins were clear of both dysplasia and malignancy. There was no evidence of lymphatic, venous or perineural invasion. One of 12 lymph nodes showed metastatic SCC. Adjuvant course of Nivolumab immunotherapy is currently planned. Conclusions We have presented an unusual case of previous laryngectomy plus requirement for OLV for ILO. The use of an endobronchial blocker via a reinforced endotracheal tube has been shown to be a successful airway management strategy. Speaking valve displacement and/or malfunction is a potential complication in such cases and should form part of preoperative counselling. Close liaison between surgical, anaesthetic and ENT teams is essential in the management of complex and unusual cases and, as we have demonstrated, strong teamwork leads to successful outcomes for patients.

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

Introduction Special occasion cookery has been a staple of the cookbook writing in the English speaking Western world for decades. This includes providing catering for personal milestones as well as religious and secular festivals. Yet, in an era when the culinary publishing sector is undergoing considerable expansion and market segmentation, narratives of foods marking of one of life’s central and inescapable rites—death—are extremely rare. This discussion investigates examples of food writing related to death and funeral rites in contemporary cookbooks. Funeral feasts held in honour of the dead date back beyond recorded history (Luby and Gruber), and religious, ceremonial and community group meals as a component of funeral rites are now ubiquitous around the world. In earlier times, the dead were believed to derive both pleasure and advantage from these offerings (LeClercq), and contemporary practice still reflects this to some extent, with foods favoured by the deceased sometimes included in such meals (see, for instance, Varidel). In the past, offering some sustenance as a component of a funeral was often necessary, as mourners might have travelled considerable distances to attend the ceremony, and eateries outside the home were not as commonplace or convenient to access as they are today. The abundance and/or lavishness of the foods provided may also have reflected the high esteem in which the dead was held, and offered as a mark of community respect (Smith and Bird). Following longstanding tradition, it is still common for Western funeral attendees to gather after the formal parts of the event—the funeral service and burial or cremation —in a more informal atmosphere to share memories of the deceased and refreshments (Simplicity Funerals 31). Thursby notes that these events, which are ostensibly about the dead, often develop into a celebration of the ties between living family members and friends, “times of reunions and renewed relationships” (94). Sharing food is central to this celebration as “foods affirm identity, strengthen kinship bonds, provide comfortable and familiar emotional support during periods of stress” (79), while familiar dishes evoke both memories and promising signals of the continued celebration of life” (94). While in the southern states and some other parts of the USA, it is customary to gather at the church premises after the funeral for a meal made up of items contributed by members of the congregation, and with leftovers sent home with the bereaved family (Siegfried), it is more common in Australasia and the UK to gather either in the home of the principal mourners, someone else’s home or a local hotel, club or restaurant (Jalland). Church halls are a less common option in Australasia, and an increasing trend is the utilisation of facilities attached to the funeral home and supplied as a component of a funeral package (Australian Heritage Funerals). The provision of this catering largely depends on the venue chosen, with the cookery either done by family and/or friends, the hotel, club, restaurant or professional catering companies, although this does not usually affect the style of the food, which in Australia and New Zealand is often based on a morning or afternoon tea style meal (Jalland). Despite widespread culinary innovation in other contexts, funeral catering bears little evidence of experimentation. Ash likens this to as being “fed by grandmothers”, and describes “scones, pastries, sandwiches, biscuits, lamingtons—food from a fifties afternoon party with the taste of Country Women’s Association about it”, noting that funerals “require humble food. A sandwich is not an affront to the dead” (online). Numerous other memoirists note this reliance on familiar foods. In “S is for Sad” in her An Alphabet for Gourmets (1949), food writer M.F.K. Fisher writes of mourners’s deep need for sustenance at this time as a “mysterious appetite that often surges in us when our hearts seem breaking and our lives too bleakly empty” (135). In line with Probyn’s argument that food foregrounds the viscerality of life (7), Fisher notes that “most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak. […] It is as if our bodies, wiser than we who wear them, call out for encouragement and strength and […] compel us […] to eat” (135, 136). Yet, while funerals are a recurring theme in food memoirs (see, for example, West, Consuming), only a small number of Western cookbooks address this form of special occasion food provision. Feast by Nigella Lawson Nigella Lawson’s Feast: Food that Celebrates Life (2004) is one of the very few popular contemporary cookbooks in English that includes an entire named section on cookery for funerals. Following twenty-one chapters that range from the expected (Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and wedding) to more original (children’s and midnight) feasts, Lawson frames her discussion with an anthropological understanding of the meaning of special occasion eating. She notes that we use food “to mark occasions that are important to us in life” (vii) and how eating together “is the vital way we celebrate anything that matters […] how we mark the connections between us, how we celebrate life” (vii). Such meals embody both personal and group identities because both how and what is eaten “lies at the heart of who we are-as individuals, families, communities” (vii). This is consistent with her overall aims as a food writer—to explore foods’ meanings—as she states in the book’s introduction “the recipes matter […] but it is what the food says that really counts” (vii). She reiterates this near the end of the book, adding, almost as an afterthought, “and, of course, what it tastes like” (318). Lawson’s food writing also reveals considerable detail about herself. In common with many other celebrity chefs and food writers, Lawson continuously draws on, elaborates upon, and ultimately constructs her own life as a major theme of her works (Brien, Rutherford, and Williamson). In doing so, she, like these other chefs and food writers, draws upon revelations of her private life to lend authenticity to her cooking, to the point where her cookbooks could be described as “memoir-illustrated-with-recipes” (Brien and Williamson). The privileging of autobiographical information in Lawson’s work extends beyond the use of her own home and children in her television programs and books, to the revelation of personal details about her life, with the result that these have become well known. Her readers thus know that her mother, sister and first and much-loved husband all died of cancer in a relatively brief space of time, and how these tragedies affected her life. Her first book, How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food (1998), opened with the following dedication: “In memory of my mother, Vanessa (1936–1985) and my sister Thomasina (1961–1993)” (dedication page). Her husband, BBC broadcaster and The Times (London) journalist John Diamond, who died of throat cancer in 2001, furthered this public knowledge, writing about both his illness and at length about Lawson in his column and his book C: Because Cowards Get Cancer Too (1999). In Feast, Lawson discusses her personal tragedies in the introduction of the ‘Funeral Foods’ chapter, writing about a friend's kind act of leaving bags of shopping from the supermarket for her when she was grieving (451). Her first recipe in this section, for a potato topped fish pie, is highly personalised in that it is described as “what I made on the evening following my mother’s funeral” (451). Following this, she again uses her own personal experience when she notes that “I don’t think anyone wants to cook in the immediate shock of bereavement […] but a few days on cooking can be a calming act, and since the mind knows no rest and has no focus, the body may as well be busy” (451). Similarly, her recipe for the slowly hard-boiled, dark-stained Hamine Eggs are described as “sans bouche”, which she explains means “without mouths to express sorrow and anguish.” She adds, drawing on her own memories of feelings at such times, “I find that appropriate: there is nothing to be said, or nothing that helps” (455). Despite these examples of raw emotion, Lawson’s chapter is not all about grief. She also comments on both the aesthetics of dishes suitable for such times and their meanings, as well as the assistance that can be offered to others through the preparation and sharing of food. In her recipe for a lamb tagine that includes prunes, she notes, for example, that the dried plums are “traditionally part of the funeral fare of many cultures […] since their black colour is thought to be appropriate to the solemnity of the occasion” (452). Lawson then suggests this as a suitable dish to offer to someone in mourning, someone who needs to “be taken care of by you” (452). This is followed by a lentil soup, the lentils again “because of their dark colour … considered fitting food for funerals” (453), but also practical, as the dish is “both comforting and sustaining and, importantly, easy to transport and reheat” (453). Her next recipe for a meatloaf containing a line of hard-boiled eggs continues this rhetorical framing—as it is “always comfort food […] perfect for having sliced on a plate at a funeral tea or for sending round to someone’s house” (453). She adds the observation that there is “something hopeful and cheering about the golden yolk showing through in each slice” (453), noting that the egg “is a recurring feature in funeral food, symbolising as it does, the cycle of life, the end and the beginning in one” (453). The next recipe, Heavenly Potatoes, is Lawson’s version of the dish known as Mormon or Utah Funeral potatoes (Jensen), which are so iconic in Utah that they were featured on one of the Salt Lake City Olympic Games souvenir pins (Spackman). This tray of potatoes baked in milk and sour cream and then topped with crushed cornflakes are, she notes, although they sound exotic, quite familiar, and “perfect alongside the British traditional baked ham” (454), and reference given to an earlier ham recipe. These savoury recipes are followed by those for three substantial cakes: an orange cake marbled with chocolate-coffee swirls, a fruit tea loaf, and a rosemary flavoured butter cake, each to be served sliced to mourners. She suggests making the marble cake (which Lawson advises she includes in memory of the deceased mother of one of her friends) in a ring mould, “as the circle is always significant. There is a cycle that continues but—after all, the cake is sliced and the circle broken—another that has ended” (456). Of the fruitcake, she writes “I think you need a fruit cake for a funeral: there’s something both comforting and bolstering (and traditional) about it” (457). This tripartite concern—with comfort, sustenance and tradition—is common to much writing about funeral foods. Cookbooks from the American South Despite this English example, a large proportion of cookbook writing about funeral foods is in American publications, and especially those by southern American authors, reflecting the bountiful spreads regularly offered to mourners in these states. This is chronicled in novels, short stories, folk songs and food memoirs as well as some cookery books (Purvis). West’s memoir Consuming Passions: A Food Obsessed Life (2000) has a chapter devoted to funeral food, complete with recipes (132–44). West notes that it is traditional in southern small towns to bring covered dishes of food to the bereaved, and that these foods have a powerful, and singular, expressive mode: “Sometimes we say all the wrong things, but food […] says, ‘I know you are inconsolable. I know you are fragile right now. And I am so sorry for your loss’” (139). Suggesting that these foods are “concern and sympathy in a Pyrex bowl” (139), West includes recipes for Chess pie (a lemon tart), with the information that this is known in the South as “funeral pie” (135) and a lemon-flavoured slice that, with a cup of tea, will “revive the spirit” (136). Like Lawson, West finds significance in the colours of funeral foods, continuing that the sunny lemon in this slice “reminds us that life continues, that we must sustain and nourish it” (139). Gaydon Metcalf and Charlotte Hays’s Being Dead is No Excuse: The Official Southern Ladies Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral (2005), is one of the few volumes available dedicated to funeral planning and also offers a significant cookery-focused section on food to offer at, and take to, funeral events. Jessica Bemis Ward’s To Die For: A Book of Funeral Food, Tips, and Tales from the Old City Cemetery, Lynchburg, Virginia (2004) not only contains more than 100 recipes, but also information about funeral customs, practical advice in writing obituaries and condolence notes, and a series of very atmospheric photographs of this historic cemetery. The recipes in the book are explicitly noted to be traditional comfort foods from Central Virginia, as Ward agrees with the other writers identified that “simplicity is the by-word when talking about funeral food” (20). Unlike the other examples cited here, however, Ward also promotes purchasing commercially-prepared local specialties to supplement home-cooked items. There is certainly significantly more general recognition of the specialist nature of catering for funerals in the USA than in Australasia. American food is notable in stressing how different ethnic groups and regions have specific dishes that are associated with post-funeral meals. From this, readers learn that the Amish commonly prepare a funeral pie with raisins, and Chinese-American funerals include symbolic foods taken to the graveside as an offering—including piles of oranges for good luck and entire roast pigs. Jewish, Italian and Greek culinary customs in America also receive attention in both scholarly studies and popular American food writing (see, for example, Rogak, Purvis). This is beginning to be acknowledged in Australia with some recent investigation into the cultural importance of food in contemporary Chinese, Jewish, Greek, and Anglo-Australian funerals (Keys), but is yet to be translated into local mainstream cookery publication. Possible Publishing Futures As home funerals are a growing trend in the USA (Wilson 2009), green funerals increase in popularity in the UK (West, Natural Burial), and the multi-million dollar funeral industry is beginning to be questioned in Australia (FCDC), a more family or community-centered “response to death and after-death care” (NHFA) is beginning to re-emerge. This is a process whereby family and community members play a key role in various parts of the funeral, including in planning and carrying out after-death rituals or ceremonies, preparing the body, transporting it to the place of burial or cremation, and facilitating its final disposition in such activities as digging the grave (Gonzalez and Hereira, NHFA). Westrate, director of the documentary A Family Undertaking (2004), believes this challenges us to “re-examine our attitudes toward death […] it’s one of life’s most defining moments, yet it’s the one we typically prepare for least […] [and an indication of our] culture of denial” (PBS). With an emphasis on holding meaningful re-personalised after-disposal events as well as minimal, non-invasive and environmentally friendly treatment of the body (Harris), such developments would also seem to indicate that the catering involved in funeral occasions, and the cookbooks that focus on the provision of such food, may well become more prominent in the future. References [AHF] Australian Heritage Funerals. “After the Funeral.” Australian Heritage Funerals, 2013. 10 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.ahfunerals.com.au/services.php?arid=31›. Ash, Romy. “The Taste of Sad: Funeral Feasts, Loss and Mourning.” Voracious: Best New Australian Food Writing. Ed. Paul McNally. Richmond, Vic.: Hardie Grant, 2011. 3 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.romyash.com/non-fiction/the-taste-of-sad-funeral-feasts-loss-and-mourning›. Brien, Donna Lee, Leonie Rutherford, and Rosemary Williamson. "Hearth and Hotmail: The Domestic Sphere as Commodity and Community in Cyberspace." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). 28 Apr. 2013 ‹http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/10-brien.php›. Brien, Donna Lee, and Rosemary Williamson. “‘Angels of the Home’ in Cyberspace: New Technologies and Biographies of Domestic Production”. Biography and New Technologies. Australian National University. Humanities Research Centre, Canberra, ACT. 12-14 Sep. 2006. Conference Presentation. Diamond, John. C: Because Cowards Get Cancer Too… . London: Vermilion, 1998. Fisher, M.F.K. “S is for Sad.” An Alphabet for Gourmets. New York, North Point P, 1989. 1st. pub. New York, Viking: 1949. Gonzalez, Faustino, and Mildreys Hereira. “Home-Based Viewing (El Velorio) After Death: A Cost-Effective Alternative for Some Families.” American Journal of Hospice & Pallative Medicine 25.5 (2008): 419–20. Harris, Mark. Grave Matters: A Journey Through the Modern Funeral Industry to a Natural Way of Burial. New York: Scribner, 2007. Jalland, Patricia. Australian Ways of Death: A Social and Cultural History 1840-1918. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 2002. Jensen, Julie Badger. The Essential Mormon Cookbook: Green Jell-O, Funeral Potatoes, and Other Secret Combinations. Salt Lake City: Deseret, 2004. Keys, Laura. “Undertaking a Jelly Feast in Williamstown.” Hobsons Bay Leader 28 Mar. 2011. 2 Apr. 2013 ‹http://hobsons-bay-leader.whereilive.com.au/news/story/undertaking-a-jelly-feast-in-williamstown›. Lawson, Nigella. How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food. London: Chatto & Windus, 1998. ---. Feast: Food that Celebrates Life. London: Chatto & Windus, 2004. LeClercq, H. “The Agape Feast.” The Catholic Encyclopedia I, New York: Robert Appleton, 1907. 3 Apr. 2013. ‹http://www.piney.com/AgapeCE.html›. Luby, Edward M., and Mark F. Gruber. “The Dead Must Be Fed: Symbolic Meanings of the Shellmounds of the San Francisco Bay Area.” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 9.1 (1999): 95–108. Metcalf, Gaydon, and Charlotte Hays. Being Dead Is No Excuse: The Official Southern Ladies Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral. New York: Miramax, 2005. [NHFA] National Home Funeral Alliance. “What is a Home Funeral?” National Home Funeral Alliance, 2012. 3 Apr. 2013. ‹http://homefuneralalliance.org›. PBS. “A Family Undertaking.” POV: Documentaries with a Point of View. PBS, 2004. 3 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.pbs.org/pov/afamilyundertaking/film_description.php#.UYHI2PFquRY›. Probyn, Elspeth. Carnal Appetites: Food/Sex/Identities. London: Routledge, 2000. Purvis, Kathleen. “Funeral Food.” The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink. Ed. Andrew F. Smith. New York: Oxford UP, 2007. 247–48. Rogak, Lisa. Death Warmed Over: Funeral Food, Rituals, and Customs from Around the World. Berkeley: Ten Speed P, 2004. Siegfried, Susie. Church Potluck Carry-Ins and Casseroles: Homestyle Recipes for Church Suppers, Gatherings, and Community Celebrations. Avon, MA.: Adams Media, 2006. Simplicity Funerals. Things You Need To Know About Funerals. Sydney: Simplicity Funerals, 1990. Smith, Eric Alden, and Rebecca L. Bliege Bird. “Turtle Hunting and Tombstone Opening: Public Generosity as Costly Signaling.” Evolution and Human Behavior 21.4 (2000): 245–61.Spackman, Christy. “Mormonism’s Jell-O Mold: Why Do We Associate the Religion With the Gelatin Dessert?” Slate Magazine 17 Aug. (2012). 3 Apr. 2013.Thursby, Jacqueline S. Funeral Festivals in America: Rituals for the Living. Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 2006. Varidel, Rebecca. “Bompas and Parr: Funerals and Food at Nelson Bros.” Inside Cuisine 12 Mar. (2011). 3 Apr. 2013 ‹http://insidecuisine.com/2011/03/12/bompas-and-parr-funerals-and-food-at-nelson-bros›. Ward, Jessica Bemis. Food To Die for: A Book of Funeral Food, Tips, and Tales from the Old City Cemetery, Lynchburg, Virginia. Lynchburg: Southern Memorial Association, 2004. West, Ken. A Guide to Natural Burial. Andover UK: Sweet & Maxwell, 2010. West, Michael Lee. Consuming Passions: A Food Obsessed Life. New York: Perennial, 2000. Wilson, M.T. “The Home Funeral as the Final Act of Caring: A Qualitative Study.” Master in Nursing thesis. Livonia, Michigan: Madonna University, 2009.

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

IntroductionFestivals, according to Chris Gibson and John Connell, are like “glue”, temporarily sticking together various stakeholders, economic transactions, and networks (9). Australia’s First Nations peoples see festivals as an opportunity to display cultural vitality (Henry 586), and to challenge a history which has rendered them absent (587). The 2017 Australia Council for the Arts Showcasing Creativity report indicates that performing arts by First Nations peoples are under-represented in Australia’s mainstream venues and festivals (1). Large Aboriginal cultural festivals have long thrived in Australia’s northern half, but have been under-developed in the south. Each regional happening develops a cultural landscape connected to a long and intimate relationship with the natural environment.The Far South East coast and mountainous hinterland of New South Wales is rich in pristine landscapes that ground the Yuin and Monaro Nations to Country as the Monaroo Bobberrer Gadu (Peoples of the Mountains and the Sea). This article highlights cross-sector interaction between Koori and mainstream organisations in producing the Giiyong (Guy-Yoong/Welcoming) Festival. This, the first large festival to be held within the Yuin Nation, took place on Aboriginal-owned land at Jigamy, via Eden, on 22 September 2018. Emerging regional artists joined national headline acts, most notably No Fixed Address (one of the earliest Aboriginal bands to break into the Australian mainstream music industry), and hip-hop artist Baker Boy (Danzal Baker, Young Australian of the Year 2019). The festival followed five years of sustained community preparation by South East Arts in association with Grow the Music, Twofold Aboriginal Corporation, the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council, and its Elders. We offer dual understandings of the Giiyong Festival: the viewpoints of a male Yuin Elder wedded to an Australian woman of European descent. We acknowledge, and rely upon, key information, statistics, and photographs provided by the staff of South East Arts including Andrew Gray (General Manager), Jasmin Williams (Aboriginal Creative and Cultural Engagement Officer and Giiyong Festival Project Manager), and Kate Howarth (Screen Industry Development Officer). We are also grateful to Wiradjuri woman Alison Simpson (Program Manager at Twofold Aboriginal Corporation) for valuable feedback. As community leaders from First Nations and non-First Nations backgrounds, Simpson and Williams complement each other’s talents for empowering Indigenous communities. They plan a 2020 follow-up event on the basis of the huge success of the 2018 festival.The case study is informed by our personal involvement with community. Since the general population barely comprehends the number and diversity of Australia’s Indigenous ‘nations’, the burgeoning Indigenous festival movement encourages First Nations and non-First Nations peoples alike to openly and confidently refer to the places they live in according to Indigenous names, practices, histories, and knowledge. Consequently, in the mental image of a map of the island-continent, the straight lines and names of state borders fade as the colours of the Indigenous ‘Countries’ (represented by David Horton’s wall map of 1996) come to the foreground. We reason that, in terms of ‘regionality,’ the festival’s expressions of “the agency of country” (Slater 141) differ vastly from the centre-periphery structure and logic of the Australian colony. There is no fixed centre to the mutual exchange of knowledge, culture, and experience in Aboriginal Australia. The broader implication of this article is that Indigenous cultural festivals allow First Nations peoples cultures—in moments of time—to assume precedence, that is to ‘stitch’ back together the notion of a continent made up of hundreds of countries, as against the exploitative structure of ‘hub and region’ colonial Australia.Festival Concepts and ContextsHoward Becker observed that cultural production results from an interplay between the person of the artist and a multitude of support personnel whose work is not frequently studied: “It is through this network of cooperation that the art work we eventually see or hear comes to be and continues to be” (1). In assisting arts and culture throughout the Bega Valley, Eurobodalla, and Snowy Monaro, South East Arts delivers positive achievements in the Aboriginal arts and cultural sector. Their outcomes are significant in the light of the dispossession, segregation, and discrimination experienced by Aboriginal Australians. Michael Young, assisted by Indigenous authors Ellen Mundy and Debbie Mundy, recorded how Delegate Reserve residents relocating to the coast were faced with having their lives controlled by a Wallaga Lake Reserve manager or with life on the fringes of the towns in shacks (2–3). But as discovered in the records, “their retention of traditional beliefs, values and customs, reveal that the accommodation they were forced to make with the Europeans did not mean they had surrendered. The proof of this is the persistence of their belief in the value of their culture” (3–4). The goal of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation is to create an inclusive place where Aboriginal people of the Twofold Bay Region can be proud of their heritage, connect with the local economy, and create a real future for their children. When Simpson told Williams of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation’s and Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council’s dream of housing a large cultural festival at Jigamy, Williams rigorously consulted local Indigenous organisations to build a shared sense of community ownership of the event. She promoted the festival as “a rare opportunity in our region to learn about Aboriginal culture and have access to a huge program of Aboriginal musicians, dancers, visual artists, authors, academics, storytellers, cooks, poets, creative producers, and films” (McKnight).‘Uncle Ossie’ Cruse of Eden envisaged that the welcoming event would enliven the longstanding caring and sharing ethos of the Yuin-Monaro people. Uncle Ossie was instrumental in establishing Jigamy’s majestic Monaroo Bobberrer Gudu Keeping Place with the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council in 1994. Built brick by brick by Indigenous workers, it is a centre for the teaching and celebration of Aboriginal culture, and for the preservation of artefacts. It represents the local community's determination to find their own solutions for “bridging the gap” by creating education and employment opportunities. The centre is also the gateway to the Bundian Way, the first Aboriginal pathway to be listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Festival Lead-Up EventsEden’s Indigenous students learn a revived South Coast language at Primary and Secondary School. In 2015, Uncle Ossie vitally informed their input into The Black Ducks, a hip-hop song filmed in Eden by Desert Pea Media. A notable event boosting Koori musical socialisation was a Giiyong Grow the Music spectacle performed at Jigamy on 28 October 2017. Grow the Music—co-founded by Lizzy Rutten and Emily White—specialises in mentoring Indigenous artists in remote areas using digital recording equipment. Eden Marine High School students co-directed the film Scars as part of a programme of events with South East Arts and the Giiyong Festival 2018. The Eden Place Project and Campbell Page also create links between in- and out-of-school activities. Eden’s Indigenous students thus perform confidently at NAIDOC Week celebrations and at various festivals. Preparation and PersonnelAn early decision was made to allow free entry to the Giiyong Festival in order to attract a maximum number of Indigenous families. The prospect necessitated in-kind support from Twofold Aboriginal Corporation staff. They galvanised over 100 volunteers to enhance the unique features of Jigamy, while Uncle Ossie slashed fields of bushes to prepare copious parking space. The festival site was spatially focused around two large stages dedicated to the memory of two strong supporters of cultural creativity: Aunty Doris Kirby, and Aunty Liddy Stewart (Image 1). Image 1: Uncle Ossie Cruse Welcomes Festival-Goers to Country on the Aunty Liddy Stewart Stage. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Cultural festivals are peaceful weapons in a continuing ontological political contest (Slater 144). In a panel discussion, Uncle Ossie explained and defended the Makarrata: the call for a First Nations Voice to be enshrined in the Constitution.Williams also contracted artists with a view to capturing the past and present achievements of Aboriginal music. Apart from her brilliant centrepiece acts No Fixed Address and Baker Boy, she attracted Pitjantjatjara singer Frank Yamma (Image 2), Yorta Yorta singer/songwriter Benny Walker, the Central Desert Docker River Band, and Jessie Lloyd’s nostalgic Mission Songs Project. These stellar acts were joined by Wallaga Lake performers Robbie Bundle, Warren Foster, and Alison Walker as well as Nathan Lygon (Eden), Chelsy Atkins (Pambula), Gabadoo (Bermagui), and Drifting Doolgahls (Nowra). Stage presentations were technologically transformed by the live broadcast of acts on large screens surrounding the platforms. Image 2: Singer-Songwriter Frank Yamma Performs at Giiyong Festival 2018. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Giiyong Music and Dance Music and dance form the staple components of Indigenous festivals: a reflection on the cultural strength of ancient ceremony. Hundreds of Yuin-Monaro people once attended great corroborees on Mumbulla Mountain (Horton 1235), and oral history recorded by Janet Mathews evidences ceremonies at Fishy Flats, Eden, in the 1850s. Today’s highly regarded community musicians and dancers perform the social arrangements of direct communication, sometimes including their children on stage as apprentices. But artists are still negotiating the power structures through which they experience belonging and detachment in the representation of their musical identity.Youth gain positive identities from participating alongside national headline acts—a form of learning that propels talented individuals into performing careers. The One Mob Dreaming Choir of Koori students from three local schools were a popular feature (Image 3), as were Eden Marine student soloists Nikai Stewart, and Nikea Brooks. Grow the Music in particular has enabled these youngsters to exhibit the roots of their culture in a deep and touching way that contributes to their life-long learning and development. Image 3: The One Mob Dreaming Choir, Directed by Corinne Gibbons (L) and Chelsy Atkins (R). Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts. Brydie-Leigh Bartleet describes how discourses of pride emerge when Indigenous Australian youth participate in hip-hop. At the Giiyong Festival the relationship between musical expression, cultural representation, and political positioning shone through the songs of Baker Boy and Gabadoo (Image 4). Channelling emotions into song, they led young audiences to engage with contemporary themes of Indigeneity. The drones launched above the carpark established a numerical figure close on 6,000 attendees, a third of whom were Indigenous. Extra teenagers arrived in time for Baker Boy’s evening performance (Williams), revealing the typical youthful audience composition associated with the hip-hop craze (Image 5).Image 4: Bermagui Resident Gabadoo Performs Hip-Hop at the Giiyong Festival. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Image 5: A Youthful Audience Enjoys Baker Boy’s Giiyong Festival Performance. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Wallaga Lake’s traditional Gulaga Dancers were joined by Bermagui’s Gadhu Dancers, Eden’s Duurunu Miru Dancers, and Narooma’s Djaadjawan Dancers. Sharon Mason founded Djaadjawan Dancers in 2015. Their cultural practice connects to the environment and Mingagia (Mother Earth). At their festival tent, dancers explained how they gather natural resources from Walbanja Country to hand-make traditional dance outfits, accessories, and craft. They collect nuts, seeds, and bark from the bush, body paint from ancient ochre pits, shells from beaches, and bird feathers from fresh roadkill. Duurunu Miru dancer/didjeriduist Nathan Lygon elaborates on the functions of the Far South East Coast dance performance tradition:Dance provides us with a platform, an opportunity to share our stories, our culture, and our way of being. It demonstrates a beautiful positivity—a feeling of connection, celebration, and inclusion. The community needs it. And our young people need a ‘space’ in which they can grow into the knowledge and practices of their culture. The festival also helped the wider community to learn more about these dimensions. (n.p.)While music and dance were at the heart of the festival, other traditional skills were included, for example the exhibitions mounted inside the Keeping Place featured a large number of visual artists. Traditional bush cooking took place near Lake Pambula, and yarn-ups, poetry, and readings were featured throughout the day. Cultural demonstrations in the Bunaan Ring (the Yuin name for a corroboree circle) included ‘Gum Leaf Playing.’ Robin Ryan explained how the Yuin’s use of cultural elements to entertain settlers (Cameron 79) led to the formation of the Wallaga Lake Gum Leaf Band. As the local custodian of this unique musical practice, Uncle Ossie performed items and conducted a workshop for numerous adults and children. Festival Feedback and Future PlanningThe Giiyong Festival gained huge Indigenous cultural capital. Feedback gleaned from artists, sponsors, supporters, volunteers, and audiences reflected on how—from the moment the day began—the spirit of so many performers and consumers gathered in one place took over. The festival’s success depended on its reception, for as Myers suggests: “It is the audience who create the response to performance and if the right chemistry is achieved the performers react and excel in their presentation” (59). The Bega District News, of 24 September 2018, described the “incredibly beautiful event” (n.p.), while Simpson enthused to the authors:I believe that the amount of people who came through the gates to attend the Giiyong Festival was a testament to the wider need and want for Aboriginal culture. Having almost double the population of Eden attend also highlights that this event was long overdue. (n.p.)Williams reported that the whole festival was “a giant exercise in the breaking down of walls. Some signed contracts for the first time, and all met their contracts professionally. National artists Baker Boy and No Fixed Address now keep in touch with us regularly” (Williams). Williams also expressed her delight that local artists are performing further afield this year, and that an awareness, recognition, and economic impact has been created for Jigamy, the Giiyong Festival, and Eden respectively:We believe that not only celebrating, but elevating these artists and Aboriginal culture, is one of the most important things South East Arts can do for the overall arts sector in the region. This work benefits artists, the economy and cultural tourism of the region. Most importantly it feeds our collective spirit, educates us, and creates a much richer place to live. (Giiyong Festival Report 1)Howarth received 150 responses to her post-event survey. All respondents felt welcome, included, and willing to attend another festival. One commented, “not even one piece of rubbish on the ground.” Vanessa Milton, ABC Open Producer for South East NSW, wrote: “Down to the tiniest detail it was so obvious that you understood the community, the audience, the performers and how to bring everyone together. What a coup to pull off this event, and what a gift to our region” (Giiyong Festival Report 4).The total running cost for the event was $257,533, including $209,606 in government grants from local, state, and federal agencies. Major donor Create NSW Regional Partnerships funded over $100,000, and State Aboriginal Affairs gave $6,000. Key corporate sponsors included Bendigo Bank, Snowy Hydro and Waterway Constructions, Local Land Services Bega, and the Eden Fisherman’s Club. Funding covered artists’ fees, staging, the hiring of toilets, and multiple generators, including delivery costs. South East Arts were satisfied with the funding amount: each time a new donation arrived they were able to invite more performers (Giiyong Festival Report 2; Gray; Williams). South East Arts now need to prove they have the leadership capacity, financial self-sufficiency, and material resources to produce another festival. They are planning 2020 will be similar to 2018, provided Twofold Aboriginal Corporation can provide extra support. Since South East Arts exists to service a wider area of NSW, they envisage that by 2024, they would hand over the festival to Twofold Aboriginal Corporation (Gray; Williams). Forthcoming festivals will not rotate around other venues because the Giiyong concept was developed Indigenously at Jigamy, and “Jigamy has the vibe” (Williams). Uncle Ossie insists that the Yuin-Monaro feel comfortable being connected to Country that once had a traditional campsite on the east side. Evaluation and ConclusionAlthough ostensibly intended for entertainment, large Aboriginal festivals significantly benefit the educational, political, and socio-economic landscape of contemporary Indigenous life. The cultural outpourings and dissemination of knowledges at the 2018 Giiyong Festival testified to the resilience of the Yuin-Monaro people. In contributing to the processes of Reconciliation and Recognition, the event privileged the performing arts as a peaceful—yet powerful truth-telling means—for dealing with the state. Performers representing the cultures of far-flung ancestral lands contributed to the reimagining of a First Nations people’s map representing hundreds of 'Countries.’It would be beneficial for the Far South East region to perpetuate the Giiyong Festival. It energised all those involved. But it took years of preparation and a vast network of cooperating people to create the feeling which made the 2018 festival unique. Uncle Ossie now sees aspects of the old sharing culture of his people springing back to life to mould the quality of life for families. Furthermore, the popular arts cultures are enhancing the quality of life for Eden youth. As the cross-sector efforts of stakeholders and volunteers so amply proved, a family-friendly, drug and alcohol-free event of the magnitude of the Giiyong Festival injects new growth into an Aboriginal arts industry designed for the future creative landscape of the whole South East region. AcknowledgementsMany thanks to Andrew Gray and Jasmin Williams for supplying a copy of the 2018 Giiyong Festival Report. We appreciated prompt responses to queries from Jasmin Williams, and from our editor Rachel Franks. We are humbly indebted to our two reviewers for their expert direction.ReferencesAustralian Government. Showcasing Creativity: Programming and Presenting First Nations Performing Arts. Australia Council for the Arts Report, 8 Mar. 2017. 20 May 2019 <https://tnn.org.au/2017/03/showcasing-creativity-programming-and-presenting-first-nations-performing-arts-australia-council/>.Bartleet, Brydie-Leigh. “‘Pride in Self, Pride in Community, Pride in Culture’: The Role of Stylin’ Up in Fostering Indigenous Community and Identity.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. New York: Routledge, 2014.Becker, Howard S. Art Worlds. 25th anniversary edition. Berkeley: U of California P, 2008.Brown, Bill. “The Monaroo Bubberer [Bobberer] Gudu Keeping Place: A Symbol of Aboriginal Self-determination.” ABC South East NSW, 9 Jul. 2015. 20 May 2019 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2015/07/09/4270480.htm>.Cameron, Stuart. "An Investigation of the History of the Aborigines of the Far South Coast of NSW in the 19th Century." PhD Thesis. Canberra: Australian National U, 1987. Desert Pea Media. The Black Ducks “People of the Mountains and the Sea.” <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fbJNHAdbkg>.“Festival Fanfare.” Eden Magnet 28 June 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <edenmagnet.com.au>.Gibson, Chris, and John Connell. Music Festivals and Regional Development in Australia. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012.Gray, Andrew. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Henry, Rosita. “Festivals.” The Oxford Companion to Aboriginal Art and Culture. Eds. Syvia Kleinert and Margot Neale. South Melbourne: Oxford UP, 586–87.Horton, David R. “Yuin.” Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia. Ed. David R. Horton. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 1994.———. Aboriginal Australia Wall Map Compiled by David Horton. Aboriginal Studies Press, 1996.Lygon, Nathan. Personal Communication, 20 May 2019.Mathews, Janet. Albert Thomas Mentions the Leaf Bands That Used to Play in the Old Days. Cassette recorded at Wreck Bay, NSW on 9 July 1964 for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders (AIATSIS). LAA1013. McKnight, Albert. “Giiyong Festival the First of Its Kind in Yuin Nation.” Bega District News 17 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5649214/giiyong-festival-the-first-of-its-kind-in-yuin-nation/?cs=7523#slide=2>. ———. “Giiyong Festival Celebrates Diverse, Enduring Cultures.” Bega District News 24 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5662590/giiyong-festival-celebrates-diverse-enduring-cultures-photos-videos/>.Myers, Doug. “The Fifth Festival of Pacific Arts.” Australian Aboriginal Studies 1 (1989): 59–62.Simpson, Alison. Personal Communication, 9 Apr. 2019.Slater, Lisa. “Sovereign Bodies: Australian Indigenous Cultural Festivals and Flourishing Lifeworlds.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. London: Ashgate, 2014. 131–46.South East Arts. "Giiyong Festival Report." Bega: South East Arts, 2018.———. Giiyong Grow the Music. Poster for Event Produced on Saturday, 28 Oct. 2017. Bega: South East Arts, 2017.Williams, Jasmin. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Young, Michael, with Ellen, and Debbie Mundy. The Aboriginal People of the Monaro: A Documentary History. Sydney: NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, 2000.

The use of RFID (radio frequency identification), also called “smart tags”, is on the rise in the retail industry. In short, RFID are tiny microchips using short range radio signals to emit information and can be used to tag goods, buildings, cars, pets, people etc. Unlike bar-code scanners, which must be held directly in front of the item being scanned, one of the benefits of RFID tags is that they can be scanned from a distance. It is expected that RFID will eventually replace the bar code and its use is likely to save companies like Wal-Mart, Procter & Gamble and Gillette millions of dollars as they can track every bottle of shampoo or packet of razor blades from the factory floor to the store shelf (Baard, “Lawmakers”). Most agree that using RFID to track goods from the point of manufacture to the location of sale in order to prevent goods being lost, stolen or handled inappropriately, is acceptable and not cause for privacy concerns. But as marketers often take every opportunity to learn more about consumers and their purchasing behaviours, some fear that tags embedded in clothing, membership cards, mobile phones etc. may be scanned inappropriately and used to target individuals with cleverly tailored marketing messages. In the effort to provide a more customised experience, business is at risk of becoming increasingly intrusive – something that will not be universally acceptable. But is it all bad? Privacy concerns aside, smart tags can add new functions as well as enable a whole range of innovative products and services when joined with other technologies. RFID beyond Traditional Value Chain Management Prada is often mentioned as an example of how RFID can be taken beyond the traditional value chain management. Prada has implemented some ground-breaking technology in their Manhattan (New York) store, all based around RFID. RF-receivers automatically detect and scan garments brought into the dressing room. Via a touch screen the customers view tips on how to mix and match, access information about available sizes, colours, fabrics and styles, and watch video clips of models wearing the very outfit they are trying on (Grassley, ”Prada’s”). Eventually customers will be able to create virtual closets and store information about what they have tried on or bought on their Prada Web account (”Prada’s”). Customers’ details, including notes made by sales assistants, e.g. preferences, can be stored automatically in customer cards, readable by sales assistants’ handhelds or at the cash register (”Prada’s”) – information that could be used by the assistant to spur further sales by suggesting for example: “Last time you were here, you bought a black skirt. We have a sweater that matches that skirt” (Batista). Another example is Precision Dynamics Corp (PDC), which developed an automatic identification wristband incorporating RFID technology. One application is the AgeBand which is used to verify the bearer’s age when purchasing alcohol. ID is checked when entering the venue and the customer receives a plastic wristband printed with personal details that cannot be removed without being damaged or destroyed (Swedberg). The embedded chip can be linked to a customer’s credit card number or a cash deposit to pay for purchases while on the premises. “It is also an easy way to collect statistics for marketing”, says PDC’s senior marketing communications specialist, Paula Maggio (qtd. in Swedberg). Although the RFID clearly provides benefits and new opportunities to business operations, there is an argument over whether consumers will ultimately gain or suffer when smart tags become more commonplace. Certainly it may be convenient to have smart hangers that project virtual clothes onto a customer’s reflection in the mirror so they can try on a range of outfits without having to remove their clothes, but the collection of personal information necessary to provide this convenience also raises complex privacy issues. Fear of Intrusive Marketing Hesseldahl believes that our homes, workplaces, shops, malls, cars, trains, planes and bicycles will all be environments that constantly notice who we are and what we are doing, and which – according to a detailed profile of our habits – will try to service us in ways we can hardly even imagine today (25). This may be helpful to us in many ways, but there are concerns that organisations will use RF-technology to connect product information to individuals in order to create personal profiles which can then be used for pin-pointed marketing purposes, or even for tracking individuals, without their knowledge or consent. A possible scenario is one where consumers are bombarded with intrusive advertising based on what they are wearing, what they are purchasing, their history of past purchases, demographics and more. “Kill Machines” Fearing that the technology will be abused, many privacy advocates suggest that RFID must only be used to keep track of goods in the supply chain and thus be deactivated as soon as they leave the store. For example, consumer organisations such as CASPIAN (Consumers Against Supermarket Privacy Invasion and Numbering), the American Civil Liberties Union, and Electronic Frontiers Australia, lobby for the obligatory deactivation of the tags at the point of purchase. But companies such as Procter & Gamble and Wal-Mart would prefer to keep the tags active after checkout, rather than disabling them with so called “kill machines”, so they can match the unique codes emitted by RF-tags to shopper’s personal information (Baard “Watchdog”). They will want to use RF technology to support the sales process and to provide the consumer with new and better services than what is otherwise possible. And without doubt, if the tags are deactivated some genuinely helpful applications would be lost to the consumer, e.g. being able to call your refrigerator from the supermarket to check if you need milk or your washing machine alerting you if you have accidentally put a delicate garment in your white wash. Looking at the Bright Side Privacy concerns aside, RFID technology, in fact, has the potential to empower consumers as it will put more information about products at consumers’ fingertips. Consumers will for example be able to go into competing supermarkets and scan items with an RF-receiver embedded in their mobile phone, record prices, store and process the information to evaluate which store offers better value. The information can then be shared with other shoppers via the Internet, and suddenly we have a powerful “shopping bot” which transcends the online world. Consequently, RFID has the potential to make competition between retailers tougher than ever before and to benefit consumers through lower and more transparent pricing. In addition, RFID tags may also make possible faster and more accurate services, particularly in supermarkets. Shopping carts are mounted with computers which automatically register all items put into the cart and enable the customer to keep track of items, their prices and their total amount (Blau). RFID can also be used to find the location of items in the store and show more detailed information on a product (origin, use by date, content etc.) and as the customer passes through the checkout, all purchases are registered automatically in a matter of seconds. Privacy Protection In Australia, the Privacy Amendment (Private Sector) Act 2000, with its ten National Privacy Principles (NPP), has been highly criticised over the last few years as being much to open for interpretation and thus difficult to reinforce. In short, the NPP allows for marketers to use non-sensitive personal information for direct marketing purposes without seeking the individual’s consent if it is impracticable to do so (“Guidelines”). That is, as long as they make available a privacy policy explaining why the data is collected and who will have access, they ensure that the data is correct and up to date, protected from unauthorised access, and that individuals are given access to their data upon request (“Guidelines”). In 2003 the Spam Act was introduced in order to take a tougher stand on the escalating problem with massive amounts of unsolicited emails filling up inboxes, threatening the whole concept of the Internet and its many benefits. In essence, the Spam Act will not allow commercial electronic messages to be sent without the recipient’s prior consent or without a possibility to unsubscribe (“Spam”). In the same manner that the Spam Act was passed to regulate the collection of Internet users’ contact information, it may become necessary to regulate the collection and use of data obtained via RFID if the NPP are deemed inadequate. The difficulty will be to do so and at the same time safeguard many of the positive side-effects the technology may have for businesses and consumers. As argued by Roger Clarke, privacy has to be balanced against many other, often competing interests: “The privacy interest of one person may conflict with that of another person, or of a groups of people, or of an organisation, or of society as a whole. Hence: Privacy Protection is a process of finding appropriate balances between privacy and multiple competing interests.” It is therefore recommended that legislators and policy makers keep up with the development and undertake significant research into both sides before any legislation is passed so that the best interests of consumers and business are catered for. Can There Be a Win-Win Situation? Although business can expect some significant gains from the use of RFID, particularly through a more effective value chain management but also from more substantial and better quality business intelligence, consumers may in fact be the real winners as new and better business concepts, products and services are made available. Further, with the increased transparency in business, consumers can use the vast amounts of information available to find the best products and services, at the best price, and from the best provider. With the aid of smart software, such as search agents, it will be a rather effortless task and will provide consumers with a real advantage. But this assumes consumers are aware of the benefits and how they can be exploited, and have the means to do so – something that will require some skill, interest, money and time. Consumers will also have to give up some privacy in order to take full advantage of the new technology. For the industry, the main challenge will be communicating what these advantages are, as acceptance, adoption and thus also return on investment will depend upon it. For legislators and policy makers, the major dilemma will be to provide a regulatory framework that is flexible but distinct, and that will prevent abuse and at the same time enable positive outcomes for both business and consumers. A fine line that should be treaded wisely in order to create a future where everyone can gain from the benefits of using this technology. References Baard, Mark. “Lawmakers Alarmed by RFID Spying.” Wired News 26 Feb. 2004. 9 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/privacy/0,1848,62433,00.html>. Baard, Mark. ”Watchdog Push for RFID Laws.” Wired News 5 Apr. 2004. 6 Apr. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/privacy/0,1848,62922,00.html>. Batista, Elisa. ”What Your Clothes Say about You.” Wired News 12 Mar. 2003. 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/wireless/0,1382,58006,00.html>. Blau, John. ”Så fungerar det digitala snabbköpet.” PC för Alla 1 (2004). 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.idg.se/ArticlePages/200402/27/20040227165630_IDG. se760/20040227165630_IDG.se760.dbp.asp>. Clarke, Roger. Beyond the OECD Guidelines: Privacy Protection for the 21st Century. 4 Jan. 2000. 15 Mar. 2004 http://www.anu.edu.au/people/Roger.Clarke/DV/PP21C.html>. Grassley, Tanya. ”Retailers Outfit Stores with Tech.” Wired News 18 Dec. 2002. 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/holidays/0,1882,56885,00.html>. “Guidelines to the National Privacy Principles.” The Office of the Federal Privacy Commissioner 2001. 4 Apr. 2004 http://www.privacy.gov.au/publications/nppgl_01.html#sum>. Hessledahl, Peter. Den globale organisme. Copenhagen: Aschehoug, 2002. 24 Apr. 2004 http://www.global-organisme.dk/e-bog/den_globale_organisme.pdf>. ”Prada’s Smart Tags Too Clever?” Wired News 27 Oct. 2002. 9 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/technology/0,1282,56042,00.html>. “Spam” DCITA 2004. 4 Apr. 2004 http://www2.dcita.gov.au/ie/trust/improving/spam>. Swedberg, Claire. ”Putting Drinks on the Cuff.” RFID Journal 15 Jun. 2004. 15 Jun. 2004 http://www.rfidjournal.com/article/articleview/987/1/1/>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Melchior, Angelika. "Tag & Trace Marketing." M/C Journal 8.4 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/03-melchior.php>. APA Style Melchior, A. (Aug. 2005) "Tag & Trace Marketing," M/C Journal, 8(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/03-melchior.php>.

This article explores how fat women protesting challenges norms of womanhood, the place of women in society, and who has the power to have their say in public spaces. We use the term fat as a political reclamation; Fat Studies scholars and fat activists prefer the term fat, over the normative term “overweight” and the pathologising term “obese/obesity” (Lee and Pausé para 3). Who is and who isn’t fat, we suggest, is best left to self-determination, although it is generally accepted by fat activists that the term is most appropriately adopted by individuals who are unable to buy clothes in any store they choose. Using a tweet from conservative commentator Ann Coulter as a leaping-off point, we examine the narratives around women in the public sphere and explore how fat bodies might transgress further the norms set by society. The public representations of women in politics and protest are then are set in the context of ‘activist wisdom’ (Maddison and Scalmer) from two sides of the globe. Activist wisdom gives preference to the lived knowledge and experience of activists as tools to understand social movements. It seeks to draw theoretical implications from the practical actions of those on the ground. In centring the experiences of ourselves and other activists, we hope to expand existing understandings of body politics, gender, and political power in this piece. It is important in researching social movements to look both at the representations of protest and protestors in all forms of media as this is the ‘public face’ of movements, but also to examine the reflections of the individuals who collectively put their weight behind bringing social change.A few days after the 45th President of the United States was elected, people around the world spilled into the streets and participated in protests; precursors to the Women’s March which would take place the following January. Pictures of such marches were shared via social media, demonstrating the worldwide protest against the racism, misogyny, and overall oppressiveness, of the newly elected leader. Not everyone was supportive of these protests though; one such conservative commentator, Ann Coulter, shared this tweet: Image1: A tweet from Ann Coulter; the tweet contains a picture of a group of protestors, holding signs protesting Trump, white supremacy, and for the rights of immigrants. In front of the group, holding a megaphone is a woman. Below the picture, the text reads, “Without fat girls, there would be no protests”.Coulter continued on with two more tweets, sharing pictures of other girls protesting and suggesting that the protestors needed a diet programme. Kivan Bay (“Without Fat Girls”) suggested that perhaps Coulter was implying that skinny girls do not have time to protest because they are too busy doing skinny girl things, like buying jackets or trying on sweaters. Or perhaps Coulter was arguing that fat girls are too visible, too loud, and too big, to be taken seriously in their protests. These tweets provide a point of illustration for how fat women protesting challenge norms of womanhood, the place of women in society, and who has the power to have their say in public spaces While Coulter’s tweet was most likely intended as a hostile personal attack on political grounds, we find it useful in its foregrounding of gender, bodies and protest which we consider in this article, beginning with a review of fat girls’ role in social justice movements.Across the world, we can point to fat women who engage in activism related to body politics and more. Australian fat filmmaker and activist Kelli Jean Drinkwater makes documentaries, such as Aquaporko! and Nothing to Lose, that queer fat embodiment and confronts body norms. Newly elected Ontario MPP Jill Andrew has been fighting for equal rights for queer people and fat people in Canada for decades. Nigerian Latasha Ngwube founded About That Curvy Life, Africa’s leading body positive and empowerment site, and has organised plus-size fashion show events at Heineken Lagos Fashion and Design Week in Nigeria in 2016 and the Glitz Africa Fashion Week in Ghana in 2017. Fat women have been putting their bodies on the line for the rights of others to live, work, and love. American Heather Heyer was protesting the hate that white nationalists represent and the danger they posed to her friends, family, and neighbours when she died at a rally in Charlottesville, North Carolina in late 2017 (Caron). When Heyer was killed by one of those white nationalists, they declared that she was fat, and therefore her body size was lauded loudly as justification for her death (Bay, “How Nazis Use”; Spangler).Fat women protesting is not new. For example, the Fat Underground was a group of “radical fat feminist women”, who split off from the more conservative NAAFA (National Association to Aid Fat Americans) in the 1970s (Simic 18). The group educated the public about weight science, harassed weight-loss companies, and disrupted academic seminars on obesity. The Fat Underground made their first public appearance at a Women’s Equality Day in Los Angeles, taking over the stage at the public event to accuse the medical profession of murdering Cass Elliot, the lead singer of the folk music group, The Mamas and the Papas (Dean and Buss). In 1973, the Fat Underground produced the Fat Liberation Manifesto. This Manifesto began by declaring that they believed “that fat people are full entitled to human respect and recognition” (Freespirit and Aldebaran 341).Women have long been disavowed, or discouraged, from participating in the public sphere (Ginzberg; van Acker) or seen as “intruders or outsiders to the tough world of politics” (van Acker 118). The feminist slogan the personal is political was intended to shed light on the role that women needed to play in the public spheres of education, employment, and government (Caha 22). Across the world, the acceptance of women within the public sphere has been varied due to cultural, political, and religious, preferences and restrictions (Agenda Feminist Media Collective). Limited acceptance of women in the public sphere has historically been granted by those ‘anointed’ by a male family member or patron (Fountaine 47).Anti-feminists are quick to disavow women being in public spaces, preferring to assign them the role as helpmeet to male political elite. As Schlafly (in Rowland 30) notes: “A Positive Woman cannot defeat a man in a wrestling or boxing match, but she can motivate him, inspire him, encourage him, teach him, restrain him, reward him, and have power over him that he can never achieve over her with all his muscle.” This idea of women working behind the scenes has been very strong in New Zealand where the ‘sternly worded’ letter is favoured over street protest. An acceptable route for women’s activism was working within existing political institutions (Grey), with activity being ‘hidden’ inside government offices such as the Ministry of Women’s Affairs (Schuster, 23). But women’s movement organisations that engage in even the mildest form of disruptive protest are decried (Grey; van Acker).One way women have been accepted into public space is as the moral guardians or change agents of the entire political realm (Bliss; Ginzberg; van Acker; Ledwith). From the early suffrage movements both political actors and media representations highlighted women were more principled and conciliatory than men, and in many cases had a moral compass based on restraint. Cartoons showed women in the suffrage movement ‘sweeping up’ and ‘cleaning house’ (Sheppard 123). Groups like the Women’s Christian Temperance Union were celebrated for protesting against the demon drink and anti-pornography campaigners like Patricia Bartlett were seen as acceptable voices of moral reason (Moynihan). And as Cunnison and Stageman (in Ledwith 193) note, women bring a “culture of femininity to trade unions … an alternative culture, derived from the particularity of their lives as women and experiences of caring and subordination”. This role of moral guardian often derived from women as ‘mothers’, responsible for the physical and moral well-being of the nation.The body itself has been a sight of protest for women including fights for bodily autonomy in their medical decisions, reproductive justice, and to live lives free from physical and sexual abuse, have long been met with criticisms of being unladylike or inappropriate. Early examples decried in NZ include the women’s clothing movement which formed part of the suffrage movement. In the second half of the 20th century it was the freedom trash can protests that started the myth of ‘women burning their bras’ which defied acceptable feminine norms (Sawer and Grey). Recent examples of women protesting for body rights include #MeToo and Time’s Up. Both movements protest the lack of bodily autonomy women can assert when men believe they are entitled to women’s bodies for their entertainment, enjoyment, and pleasure. And both movements have received considerable backlash by those who suggest it is a witch hunt that might ensnare otherwise innocent men, or those who are worried that the real victims are white men who are being left behind (see Garber; Haussegger). Women who advocate for bodily autonomy, including access to contraception and abortion, are often held up as morally irresponsible. As Archdeacon Bullock (cited in Smyth 55) asserted, “A woman should pay for her fun.”Many individuals believe that the stigma and discrimination fat people face are the consequences they sow from their own behaviours (Crandall 892); that fat people are fat because they have made poor decisions, being too indulgent with food and too lazy to exercise (Crandall 883). Therefore, fat people, like women, should have to pay for their fun. Fat women find themselves at this intersection, and are often judged more harshly for their weight than fat men (Tiggemann and Rothblum). Examining Coulter’s tweet with this perspective in mind, it can easily be read as an attempt to put fat girl protestors back into their place. It can also be read as a warning. Don’t go making too much noise or you may be labelled as fat. Presenting troublesome women as fat has a long history within political art and depictions. Marianne (the symbol of the French Republic) was depicted as fat and ugly; she also reinforced an anti-suffragist position (Chenut 441). These images are effective because of our societal views on fatness (Kyrölä). Fatness is undesirable, unworthy of love and attention, and a representation of poor character, lack of willpower, and an absence of discipline (Murray 14; Pausé, “Rebel Heart” para 1).Fat women who protest transgress rules around body size, gender norms, and the appropriate place for women in society. Take as an example the experiences of one of the authors of this piece, Sandra Grey, who was thrust in to political limelight nationally with the Campaign for MMP (Grey and Fitzsimmons) and when elected as the President of the New Zealand Tertiary Education Union in 2011. Sandra is a trade union activist who breaches too many norms set for the “good woman protestor,” as well as the norms for being a “good fat woman”. She looms large on a stage – literally – and holds enough power in public protest to make a crowd of 7,000 people “jump to left”, chant, sing, and march. In response, some perceive Sandra less as a tactical and strategic leader of the union movement, and more as the “jolly fat woman” who entertains, MCs, and leads public events. Though even in this role, she has been criticised for being too loud, too much, too big.These criticisms are loudest when Sandra is alongside other fat female bodies. When posting on social media photos with fellow trade union members the comments often note the need of the group to “go on a diet”. The collective fatness also brings comments about “not wanting to fuck any of that group of fat cows”. There is something politically and socially dangerous about fat women en masse. This was behind the responses to Sandra’s first public appearance as the President of TEU when one of the male union members remarked “Clearly you have to be a fat dyke to run this union.” The four top elected and appointed positions in the TEU have been women for eight years now and both their fatness and perceived sexuality present as a threat in a once male-dominated space. Even when not numerically dominant, unions are public spaces dominated by a “masculine culture … underpinned by the undervaluation of ‘women’s worth’ and notions of womanhood ‘defined in domesticity’” (Cockburn in Kirton 273-4). Sandra’s experiences in public space show that the derision and methods of putting fat girls back in their place varies dependent on whether the challenge to power is posed by a single fat body with positional power and a group of fat bodies with collective power.Fat Girls Are the FutureOn the other side of the world, Tara Vilhjálmsdóttir is protesting to change the law in Iceland. Tara believes that fat people should be protected against discrimination in public and private settings. Using social media such as Facebook and Instagram, Tara takes her message, and her activism, to her thousands of followers (Keller, 434; Pausé, “Rebel Heart”). And through mainstream media, she pushes back on fatphobia rhetoric and applies pressure on the government to classify weight as a protected status under the law.After a lifetime of living “under the oppression of diet culture,” Tara began her activism in 2010 (Vilhjálmsdóttir). She had suffered real harm from diet culture, developing an eating disorder as a teen and being told through her treatment for it that her fears as a fat woman – that she had no future, that fat people experienced discrimination and stigma – were unfounded. But Tara’s lived experiences demonstrated fat stigma and discrimination were real.In 2012, she co-founded the Icelandic Association for Body Respect, which promotes body positivity and fights weight stigma in Iceland. The group uses a mixture of real life and online tools; organising petitions, running campaigns against the Icelandic version of The Biggest Loser, and campaigning for weight to be a protected class in the Icelandic constitution. The Association has increased the visibility of the dangers of diet culture and the harm of fat stigma. They laid the groundwork that led to changing the human rights policy for the city of Reykjavík; fat people cannot be discriminated against in employment settings within government jobs. As the city is one of the largest employers in the country, this was a large step forward for fat rights.Tara does receive her fair share of hate messages; she’s shared that she’s amazed at the lengths people will go to misunderstand what she is saying (Vilhjálmsdóttir). “This isn’t about hurt feelings; I’m not insulted [by fat stigma]. It’s about [fat stigma] affecting the livelihood of fat people and the structural discrimination they face” (Vilhjálmsdóttir). She collects the hateful comments she receives online through screenshots and shares them in an album on her page. She believes it is important to keep a repository to demonstrate to others that the hatred towards fat people is real. But the hate she receives only fuels her work more. As does the encouragement she receives from people, both in Iceland and abroad. And she is not alone; fat activists across the world are using Web 2.0 tools to change the conversation around fatness and demand civil rights for fat people (Pausé, “Rebel Heart”; Pausé, “Live to Tell").Using Web 2.0 tools as a way to protest and engage in activism is an example of oppositional technologics; a “political praxis of resistance being woven into low-tech, amateur, hybrid, alternative subcultural feminist networks” (Garrison 151). Fat activists use social media to engage in anti-assimilationist activism and build communities of practice online in ways that would not be possible in real life (Pausé, “Express Yourself” 1). This is especially useful for those whose protests sit at the intersections of oppressions (Keller 435; Pausé, “Rebel Heart” para 19). Online protests have the ability to travel the globe quickly, providing opportunities for connections between protests and spreading protests across the globe, such as SlutWalks in 2011-2012 (Schuster 19). And online spaces open up unlimited venues for women to participate more freely in protest than other forms (Harris 479; Schuster 16; Garrison 162).Whether online or offline, women are represented as dangerous in the political sphere when they act without male champions breaching norms of femininity, when their involvement challenges the role of woman as moral guardians, and when they make the body the site of protest. Women must ‘do politics’ politely, with utmost control, and of course caringly; that is they must play their ‘designated roles’. Whether or not you fit the gendered norms of political life affects how your protest is perceived through the media (van Acker). Coulter’s tweet loudly proclaimed that the fat ‘girls’ protesting the election of the 45th President of the United States were unworthy, out of control, and not worthy of attention (ironic, then, as her tweet caused considerable conversation about protest, fatness, and the reasons not to like the President-Elect). What the Coulter tweet demonstrates is that fat women are perceived as doubly-problematic in public space, both as fat and as women. They do not do politics in a way that is befitting womanhood – they are too visible and loud; they are not moral guardians of conservative values; and, their bodies challenge masculine power.ReferencesAgenda Feminist Media Collective. “Women in Society: Public Debate.” Agenda: Empowering Women for Gender Equity 10 (1991): 31-44.Bay, Kivan. “How Nazis Use Fat to Excuse Violence.” Medium, 7 Feb. 2018. 1 May 2018 <https://medium.com/@kivabay/how-nazis-use-fat-to-excuse-violence-b7da7d18fea8>.———. “Without Fat Girls, There Would Be No Protests.” Bullshit.ist, 13 Nov. 2016. 16 May 2018 <https://bullshit.ist/without-fat-girls-there-would-be-no-protests-e66690de539a>.Bliss, Katherine Elaine. Compromised Positions: Prostitution, Public Health, and Gender Politics in Revolutionary Mexico City. Penn State Press, 2010.Caha, Omer. 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London: Routledge, 2008.Harris, Anita. “Mind the Gap: Attitudes and Emergent Feminist Politics since the Third Wave.” Australian Feminist Studies 25.66 (2010): 475-484.Haussegger, Virginia. “#MeToo: Beware the Brewing Whiff of Backlash.” Sydney Morning Herald, 7 Mar. 2018. 1 Apr. 2018 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/metoo-beware-the-brewing-whiff-of-backlash-20180306-p4z33s.html>.Keller, Jessalynn. “Virtual Feminisms.” Information, Communication and Society 15.3(2011): 429-447.Kirston, Gill. “From ‘a Woman’s Place Is in Her Union’ to ‘Strong Unions Need Women’: Changing Gender Discourses, Policies and Realities in the Union Movement.” Labour & Industry: A Journal of the Social and Economic Relations of Work 27.4 (2017): 270-283.Kyrölä, Katariina. The Weight of Images. London: Routledge, 2014.Ledwith, Sue. “Gender Politics in Trade Unions: The Representation of Women between Exclusion and Inclusion.” European Review of Labour and Research 18.2 (2012): 185-199.Lyndsey, Susan. Women, Politics, and the Media: The 1999 New Zealand General Election. Dissertation. Massey University, 2002.Maddison, Sarah, and Sean Scalmer. Activist Wisdom: Practical Knowledge and Creative Tension in Social Movements. Sydney: UNSW P, 2006. Moynihan, Carolyn. A Stand for Decency: Patricia Bartlett & the Society for Promotion of Community Standards, 1970-1995. Wellington: The Society, 1995.Murray, Samantha. "Pathologizing 'Fatness': Medical Authority and Popular Culture." Sociology of Sport Journal 25.1 (2008): 7-21.Pausé, Cat. “Live to Tell: Coming Out as Fat.” Somatechnics 21 (2012): 42-56.———. “Express Yourself: Fat Activism in the Web 2.0 Age.” The Politics of Size: Perspectives from the Fat-Acceptance Movement. Ed. Ragen Chastain. Praeger, 2015. 1-8.———. “Rebel Heart: Performing Fatness Wrong Online.” M/C Journal 18.3 (2015).Rowland, Robyn, ed. Women Who Do and Women Who Don’t Join the Women’s Movement. London: Routledge, 1984.Schuster, Julia. “Invisible Feminists? Social Media and Young Women’s Political Participation.” Political Science 65.1 (2013): 8-24.Sheppard, Alice. "Suffrage Art and Feminism." Hypatia 5.2 (1990): 122-136.Simic, Zora. “Fat as a Feminist Issue: A History.” Fat Sex: New Directions in Theory and Activism. Eds. Helen Hester and Caroline Walters. London: Ashgate, 2015. 15-36.Spangler, Todd. “White-Supremacist Site Daily Stormer Booted by Hosting Provider.” Variety, 13 Aug. 2017. 1 May 2018 <https://variety.com/2017/digital/news/daily-stormer-heather-heyer-white-supremacist-neo-nazi-hosting-provider-1202526544/>.Smyth, Helen. Rocking the Cradle: Contraception, Sex, and Politics in New Zealand. Steele Roberts, 2000.Tiggemann, Marika, and Esther D. Rothblum. "Gender Differences in Social Consequences of Perceived Overweight in the United States and Australia." Sex Roles 18.1-2 (1988): 75-86.Van Acker, Elizabeth. “Media Representations of Women Politicians in Australia and New Zealand: High Expectations, Hostility or Stardom.” Policy and Society 22.1 (2003): 116-136.Vilhjálmsdóttir, Tara. Personal interview. 1 June 2018.

We (I, Robert Lawrence and, in a rare display of unity, all my online avatars and agents)hereby render and proclaim thisMANIFESTO OF PIECES AND BITS IN SERVICE OF CONTRADICTIONAL AESTHETICSWe start with the simple premise that art has the job of telling us who we are, and that through the modern age doing this job while KEEPING UP with accelerating cultural change has necessitated the invention of something we might call the avant-garde. Along the way there has been an on-again-off-again affair between said avant-garde and technology. We are now in a new phase of the new and the technology under consideration is the Internet.The recent hyperventilating about the term postInternet reflects the artworld’s overdue recognition of the effect of the Internet on the culture at large, and on art as a cultural practice, a market, and a historical process.I propose that we cannot fully understand what the Internet is doing to us through a consideration of what happens on the screen, nor by considering what happens in the physical space we occupy either before or behind the screen. Rather we must critically and creatively fathom the flow of cultural practice between and across these realms. This requires Hybrid art combining both physical and Internet forms.I do not mean to imply that single discipline-based art cannot communicate complexity, but I believe that Internet culture introduces complexities that can only be approached through hybrid practices. And this is especially critical for an art that, in doing the job of “telling us who we are”, wants to address the contradictory ways we now form and promote, or conceal and revise, our multiple identities through online social media profiles inconsistent with our fleshly selves.We need a different way of talking about identity. A history of identity:In the ancient world, individual identity as we understand it did not exist.The renaissance invented the individual.Modernism prioritized and alienated him (sic).Post-Modernism fragmented him/her.The Internet hyper-circulates and amplifies all these modalities, exploding the possibilities of identity.While reducing us to demographic market targets, the Web facilitates mass indulgence in perversely individual interests. The now common act of creating an “online profile” is a regular reiteration of the simple fact that identity is an open-ended hypothesis. We can now live double, or extravagantly multiple, virtual lives. The “me meme” is a ceaseless morph. This is a profound change in how identity was understood just a decade ago. Other historical transformations of identity happened over centuries. This latest and most radical change has occurred in the click of a mouse. Selfhood is now imbued with new complexity, fluidity and amplified contradictions.To fully understand what is actually happening to us, we need an art that engages the variant contracts of the physical and the virtual. We need a Hybrid art that addresses variant temporal and spatial modes of the physical and virtual. We need an art that offers articulations through the ubiquitous web in concert with the distinct perspectives that a physical gallery experience uniquely offers: engagement and removal, reflection and transference. Art that tells us who we are today calls for an aesthetics of contradiction. — Ro Lawrence (and all avatars) 2011, revised 2013, 2015, 2018. The manifesto above grew from an artistic practice beginning in 1998 as I started producing a website for every project that I made in traditional media. The Internet work does not just document or promote the project, nor is it “Netart” in the common sense of creative work restricted to a browser window. All of my efforts with the Internet are directly linked to my projects in traditional media and the web components offer parallel aesthetic voices that augment or overtly contradict the reading suggested by the traditional visual components of each project.This hybrid work grew out of a previous decade of transmedia work in video installation and sculpture, where I would create physical contexts for silent video as a way to remove the video image from the seamless flow of broadcast culture. A video image can signify very differently in a physical context that separates it from the flow of mass media and rather reconnects it to lived physical culture. A significant part of the aesthetic pleasure of this kind of work comes from nuances of dissonance arising from contradictory ways viewers had learned to read the object world and the ways we were then still learning to read the electronic image world. This video installation work was about “relocating” the electronic image, but I was also “locating” the electronic image in another sense, within the boundaries of geographic and cultural location. Linking all my projects to specific geographic locations set up contrasts with the spatial ubiquity of electronic media. In 1998 I amplified this contrast with my addition of extensive Internet components with each installation I made.The Way Things Grow (1998) began as an installation of sculptures combining video with segments of birch trees. Each piece in the gallery was linked to a specific geographic location within driving distance of the gallery exhibiting the work. In the years just before this piece I had moved from a practice of text-augmented video installations to the point where I had reduced the text to small printed handouts that featured absurd Scripts for Performance. These text handouts that viewers could take with them suggested that the work was to be completed by the viewer later outside the gallery. This to-be-continued dynamic was the genesis of a serial form in work going forward from then on. Thematic and narrative elements in the work were serialized via possible actions viewers would perform after leaving the gallery. In the installation for The Way Things Grow, there was no text in the gallery at all to suggest interpretations of this series of video sculptures. Even the titles offered no direct textual help. Rather than telling the viewers something about the work before them in the gallery, the title of each piece led the viewer away from the gallery toward serial actions in the specific geographic locations the works referred to. Each piece was titled with an Internet address.Figure 1: Lawrence, Robert, The Way Things Grow, video Installation with web components at http://www.h-e-r-e.com/grow.html, 1998.When people went to the web site for each piece they found only a black page referencing a physical horizon with a long line of text that they could scroll to right for meters. Unlike the determinedly embodied work in the gallery, the web components were disembodied texts floating in a black void, but texts about very specific physical locations.Figure 2: Lawrence, Robert, The Way Things Grow, partial view of webpage at http://www.h-e-r-e.com/growth_variant4.html, 1998.The texts began with the exact longitude and latitude of a geographical site in some way related to birch trees. ... A particularly old or large tree... a factory that turned birch trees into popsicle sticks and medical tongue depressors... etc. The website texts included directions to the site, and absurd scripts for performance. In this way the Internet component transformed the suite of sculptures in the gallery to a series of virtual, and possibly actual, events beyond the gallery. These potential narratives that viewers were invited into comprised an open-ended serial structure. The gallery work was formal, minimal, essentialist. On the web it was social, locative, deconstructive. In both locations, it was located. Here follows an excerpt from the website. GROWTH VARIANT #25: North 44:57:58 by West 93:15:56. On the south side of the Hennepin County Government Center is a park with 9 birch trees. These are urban birches, and they display random scratchings, as well as proclamations of affection expressed with pairs of initials and a “+” –both with and without encircling heart symbols. RECOMMENDED PERFORMANCE: Visit these urban birches once each month. Photograph all changes in their bark made by humans. After 20 years compile a document entitled, "Human Mark Making on Urban Birches, a Visual Study of Specific Universalities". Bring it into the Hennepin County Government Center and ask that it be placed in the archives.An Acre of Art (2000) was a collaborative project with sculptor Mark Knierim. Like The Way Things Grow, this new work, commissioned by the Minneapolis Art Institute, played out in the gallery, in a specific geographic location, and online. In the Art Institute was a gallery installation combining sculptures with absurd combinations of physical rural culture fitting contradictorily into an urban "high art" context. One of the pieces, entitled Landscape (2000), was an 18’ chicken coop faced with a gold picture frame. Inside were two bard rock hens and an iMac. The computer was programmed to stream to the Internet live video from the coop, the world’s first video chicken cam. As a work unfolding across a long stretch of time, the web cam video was a serial narrative without determined division into episodes. The gallery works also referenced a specific acre of agricultural land an hour from the Institute. Here we planted a row of dwarf corn at a diagonal to the mid-western American rural geometric grid of farmland. Visitors to the rural site could sit on “rural art furniture,” contemplate the corn growing, and occasionally witness absurd performances. The third stream of the piece was an extensive website, which playfully theorized the rural/urban/art trialectic. Each of the three locations of the work was exploited to provide a richer transmedia interpretation of the project’s themes than any one venue or medium could. Location Sequence is a serial installation begun in 1999. Each installation has completely different physical elements. The only consistent physical element is 72 segments of a 72” collapsible carpenter's ruler evenly spaced to wrap around the gallery walls. Each of the 72 segments of the ruler displays an Internet web address. Reversing the notion of the Internet as a place of rapid change compared to a more enduring physical world, in this case the Internet components do not change with each new episode of the work, while the physical components transform with each new installation. Thematically, all aspects of the work deal with various shades of meaning of the term "location." Beginning/Middle/End is a 30-year conceptual serial begun in 2002, presenting a series of site-specific actions, objects, or interventions combined with corresponding web pages that collectively negotiate concepts related to time, location, and narrative. Realizing a 30-year project via the web in this manner is a self-conscious contradiction of the culture of the instantaneous that the Internet manifests and propagates.The installation documented here was completed for a one-night event in 2002 with Szilage Gallery in St Petersburg, Florida. Bricks moulded with the URLs for three web sites were placed in a historic brick road with the intention that they would remain there through a historical time frame. The URLs were also projected in light on a creek parallel to the brick road and seen only for several hours. The corresponding web site components speculate on temporal/narrative structures crossing with geographic features, natural and manufactured.Figure 3: Lawrence, Robert, Beginning/Middle/End, site-specific installation with website in conjunction with 30-year series, http://www.h-e-r-e.com/beginning.html, 2002-32.The most recent instalment was done as part of Conflux Festival in 2014 in collaboration with painter Ld Lawrence. White shapes appeared in various public spaces in downtown Manhattan. Upon closer inspection people realized that they were not painted tags or stickers, but magnetic sheets that could be moved or removed. An optical scan tag hidden on the back of each shape directed to a website which encouraged people to move the objects to other locations and send a geo-located photo to the web site to trace the shape's motion through the world. The work online could trace the serial narrative of the physical installation components following the installation during Conflux Festival. Figure 4: Lawrence, Robert w/Lawrence, Ld, Gravity Ace on the Move, site-specific installation with geo-tracking website at http://www.h-e-r-e.com/gravityace/. Completed for Conflux Festival NYC, 2014, as part of Beginning/Middle/End.Dad's Boots (2003) was a multi-sited sculpture/performance. Three different physical manifestations of the work were installed at the same time in three locations: Shirakawa-go Art Festival in Japan; the Phipps Art Center in Hudson, Wisconsin; and at the Tampa Museum of Art in Florida. Physical components of the work included silent video projection, digital photography, computer key caps, and my father's boots. Each of these three different installations referred back to one web site. Because all these shows were up at the same time, the work was a distributed synchronous serial. In each installation space the title of the work was displayed as an Internet address. At the website was a series of popup texts suggesting performances focused, however absurdly, on reassessing paternal relationships.Figure 5: Lawrence, Robert, Dad’s Boots, simultaneous gallery installation in Florida, Wisconsin and Japan, with website, 2003. Coincidently, beginning the same time as my transmedia physical/Internet art practice, since 1998 I have had a secret other-life as a tango dancer. I came to this practice drawn by the music and the attraction of an after-dark subculture that ran by different rules than the rest of life. While my life as a tanguero was most certainly an escape strategy, I quickly began to see that although tango was different from the rest of the world, it was indeed a part of this world. It had a place and a time and a history. Further, it was a fascinating history about the interplays of power, class, wealth, race, and desire. Figure 6: Lawrence, Robert, Tango Intervention, site-specific dance interventions with extensive web components, 2007-12.As Marta Savigliano points out in Tango and the Political Economy of Passion, “Tango is a practice already ready for struggle. It knows about taking sides, positions, risks. It has the experience of domination/resistance from within. …Tango is a language of decolonization. So pick and choose. Improvise... let your feet do the thinking. Be comfortable in your restlessness. Tango” (17). The realization that tango, my sensual escape from critical thought, was actually political came just about the time I was beginning to understand the essential dynamic of contradiction between the physical and Internet streams of my work. Tango Intervention began in 2007. I have now, as of 2018, done tango interventions in over 40 cities. Overall, the project can be seen as a serial performance of contradictions. In each case the physical dance interventions are manifestations of sensual fantasy in public space, and the Internet components recontextualize the public actions as site-specific performances with a political edge, revealing a hidden history or current social situation related to the political economy of tango. These themes are further developed in a series of related digital prints and videos shown here in various formats and contexts.In Tango Panopticon (2009), a “spin off” from the Tango Intervention series, the hidden social issue was the growing video surveillance of public space. The first Tango Panopticon production was Mayday 2009 with people dancing tango under public video surveillance in 15 cities. Mayday 2010 was Tango Panopticon 2.0, with tangointervention.org streaming live cell phone video from 16 simultaneous dance interventions on 4 continents. The public encountered the interventions as a sensual reclaiming of public space. Contradictorily, on the web Tango Panopticon 2.0 became a distributed worldwide action against the growing spectre of video surveillance and the increasing control of public commons. Each intervention team was automatically located on an online map when they started streaming video. Visitors to the website could choose an action from the list of cities or click on the map pins to choose which live video to load into the grid of 6 streaming signals. Visitors to the physical intervention sites could download our free open source software and stream their own videos to tangointervention.org.Figure 7: Lawrence, Robert, Tango Panopticon 2.0, worldwide synchronous dance intervention with live streaming video and extensive web components, 2010.Tango Panopticon also has a life as a serial installation, initially installed as part of the annual conference of “Digital Resources for Humanities and the Arts” at Brunel University, London. All shots in the grid of videos are swish pans from close-ups of surveillance cameras to tango interveners dancing under their gaze. Each ongoing installation in the series physically adapts to the site, and with each installation more lines of video frames are added until the images become too small to read.Figure 8: Lawrence, Robert, Tango Panopticon 2.0 (For Osvaldo), video installation based on worldwide dance intervention series with live streaming video, 2011.My new work Equivalence (in development) is quite didactic in its contradictions between the online and gallery components. A series of square prints of clouds in a gallery are titled with web addresses that open with other cloud images and then fade into randomly loading excerpts from the CIA torture manual used at Guantanamo Bay Detention Center.Figure 9: Lawrence, Robert, Eauivalence, digital prints, excerpts from CIA Guantanamo Detention Center torture manual, work-in-progress.The gallery images recall Stieglitz’s Equivalents photographs from the early 20th century. Made in the 1920s to 30s, the Equivalents comprise a pivotal change in photographic history, from the early pictorial movement in which photography tried to imitate painting, and a new artistic approach that embraced features distinct to the photographic medium. Stieglitz’s Equivalents merged photographic realism with abstraction and symbolist undertones of transcendent spirituality. Many of the 20th century masters of photography, from Ansel Adams to Minor White, acknowledged the profound influence these photographs had on them. Several images from the Equivalents series were the first photographic art to be acquired by a major art museum in the US, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.My series Equivalence serves as the latest episode in a serial art history narrative. Since the “Pictures Generation” movement in the 1970s, photography has cannibalized its history, but perhaps no photographic body of work has been as quoted as Stieglitz’s Equivalents. A partial list includes: John Baldessari’s series Blowing Cigar Smoke to Match Clouds That Are the Same(1973), William Eggleston’s series Wedgwood Blue (1979), John Pfahl’s smoke stack series (1982-89), George Legrady’s Equivalents II(1993), Vik Muniz’sEquivalents(1997), Lisa Oppenheim (2012), and most recently, Berndnaut Smilde’s Nimbus Series, begun in 2012. Over the course of more than four decades each of these series has presented a unique vision, but all rest on Stieglitz’s shoulders. From that position they make choices about how to operate relative the original Equivalents, ranging from Baldessari and Muniz’s phenomenological playfulness to Eggleston and Smilde’s neo-essentialist approach.My series Equivalence follows along in this serial modernist image franchise. What distinguishes it is that it does not take a single position relative to other Equivalents tribute works. Rather, it exploits its gallery/Internet transmediality to simultaneously assume two contradictory positions. The dissonance of this positioning is one of my main points with the work, and it is in some ways resonant with the contradictions concerning photographic abstraction and representation that Stieglitz engaged in the original Equivalents series almost a century ago.While hanging on the walls of a gallery, Equivalence suggests the same metaphysical intentions as Stieglitz’s Equivalents. Simultaneously, in its manifestation on the Internet, my Equivalence series transcends its implied transcendence and claims a very specific time and place –a small brutal encampment on the island of Cuba where the United States abandoned any remaining claim to moral authority. In this illegal prison, forgotten lives drag on invisibly, outside of time, like untold serial narratives without resolution and without justice.Partially to balance the political insistence of Equivalence, I am also working on another series that operates with very different modalities. Following up on the live streaming technology that I developed for my Tango Panopticon public intervention series, I have started Horizon (In Development).Figure 10: Lawrence, Robert, Horizon, worldwide synchronous horizon interventions with live streaming video to Internet, work-in-progress.In Horizon I again use live cell phone video, this time streamed to an infinitely wide web page from live actions around the world done in direct engagement with the horizon line. The performances will begin and automatically come online live at noon in their respective time zone, each added to the growing horizontal line of moving images. As the actions complete, the streamed footage will begin endlessly looping. The project will also stream live during the event to galleries, and then HD footage from the events will be edited and incorporated into video installations. Leading up to this major event day, I will have a series of smaller instalments of the piece, with either live or recorded video. The first of these preliminary versions was completed during the Live Performers Workshop in Rome. Horizon continues to develop, leading to the worldwide synchronous event in 2020.Certainly, artists have always worked in series. However, exploiting the unique temporal dimensions of the Internet, a series of works can develop episodically as a serial work. If that work unfolds with contradictory thematics in its embodied and online forms, it reaches further toward an understanding of the complexities of postInternet culture and identity. ReferencesSaviligliano, Marta. Tango and the Political Economy of Passion. Boulder: Westview Press, 1995.

Consumer or home use (previously ‘amateur’) moving image formats are distinguished from professional (still known as ‘professional’) ones by relative affordability, ubiquity and simplicity of use. Since Pathé Frères released its Pathé Baby camera, projector and 9.5mm film gauge in 1922, a distinct line of viewing and making equipment has been successfully marketed at nonprofessional use, especially in the home. ‘Amateur film’ is a simple term for a complex, variegated and longstanding set of activities. Conceptually it is bounded only by the negative definition of nonprofessional (usually intended as sub-professional), and the positive definition of being for the love of the activity and motivated by personal passion alone. This defines a field broad enough that two major historians of US amateur film, Patricia R. Zimmermann and Alan D. Kattelle, write about different subjects. Zimmermann focuses chiefly on domestic use and ‘how-to’ literature, while Kattelle unearths the collective practices and institutional structure of the Amateur Ciné Clubs and the Amateur Ciné League (Zimmerman, Reel Families, Professional; Kattelle, Home Movies, Amateur Ciné). Marion Norris Gleason, a test subject in Eastman Kodak’s development of 16mm and advocate of amateur film, defined it as having three parts, the home movie, “the photoplay produced by organised groups”, and the experimental film (Swanson 132). This view was current at least until the 1960s, when domestic documentation, Amateur Ciné clubs and experimental filmmakers shared the same film gauges and space in the same amateur film magazines, but paths have diverged somewhat since then. Domestic documentation remains committed to the moving image technology du jour, the Amateur Ciné movement is much reduced, and experimental film has developed a separate identity, its own institutional structure, and won some legitimacy in the art world. The trajectory of Super 8, a late-coming gauge to amateur film, has been defined precisely by this disintegration. Obsolescence was manufactured far more slowly during the long reign of amateur film gauges, allowing 9.5mm (1922-66), 16mm (1923-), 8mm (1932-), and Super 8 (1965-) to engage in protracted format wars significantly longer than the life spans of their analogue and digital video successors. The range of options available to nonprofessional makers – the quality but relative expense of 16mm, the near 16mm frame size of 9.5mm, the superior stability of 8mm compared to 9.5mm and Super 8, the size of Super 8’s picture relative to 8mm’s – are not surprising in the context of general competition for a diverse popular market on the usual basis of price, quality, and novelty. However, since analogue video’s ascent the amateur film gauges have all comprehensibly lost the battle for the home use market. This was by far the largest section of amateur film and the manufacturers’ overt target segment, so the amateur film gauges’ contemporary survival and significance is as something else. Though all the gauges from 8mm to 16mm remain available today to the curious and enthusiastic, Super 8’s afterlife is distinguished by the peculiar combination of having been a tremendously popular substandard to the substandard (ie, to 16mm, the standardised film gauge directly below 35mm in both price and quality), and now being prized for its technological excellence. When the large scale consumption that had supported Super 8’s manufacture dropped away, it revealed the set of much smaller, apparently non-transferable uses that would determine whether and as what Super 8 survived. Consequently, though Super 8 has been superseded many times over as a home movie format, it is not obsolete today as an art medium, a professional format used in the commercial industry, or as an alternative to digital video and 16mm for low budget independent production. In other words, everything it was never intended to be. I lately witnessed an occasion of the kind of high-fetishism for film-versus-video and analogue-versus-digital that the experimental moving image world is justifiably famed for. Discussion around the screening of Peter Tscherkassky’s films at the Xperimenta ‘09 festival raised the specifics and availability of the technology he relies on, both because of the peculiarity of his production method – found-footage collaging onto black and white 35mm stock via handheld light pen – and the issue of projection. Has digital technology supplied an alternative workflow? Would 35mm stock to work on (and prints to pillage) continue to be available? Is the availability of 35mm projectors in major venues holding up? Although this insider view of 35mm’s waning market share was more a performance of technological cultural politics than an analysis of it, it raised a series of issues central to any such analysis. Each film format is a gestalt item, consisting of four parts (that an individual might own): film stock, camera, projector and editor. Along with the availability of processing services, these items comprise a gauge’s viability (not withstanding the existence of camera-less and unedited workflows, and numerous folk developing methods). All these are needed to conjure the geist of the machine at full strength. More importantly, the discussion highlights what happens when such a technology collides with idiosyncratic and unintended use, which happens only because it is manufactured on a much wider scale than eccentric use alone can support. Although nostalgia often plays a role in the advocacy of obsolete technology, its role here should be carefully qualified and not overstated. If it plays a role in the three main economies that support contemporary Super 8, it need not be the same role. Further, even though it is now chiefly the same specialist shops and technicians that supply and service 9.5mm, 8mm, Super 8, and 16mm, they are not sold on the same scale nor to the same purpose. There has been no reported Renaissances of 9.5mm or 8mm, though, as long term home movie formats, they must loom large in the memories of many, and their particular look evokes pastness as surely as any two-colour process. There are some specifics to the trajectory of Super 8 as a non-amateur format that cannot simply be subsumed to general nostalgia or dead technology fetishism. Super 8 as an Art Medium Super 8 has a longer history as an art medium than as a pro-tool or low budget substandard. One key aspect in the invention and supply of amateur film was that it not be an adequate substitute for the professional technology used to populate the media sphere proper. Thus the price of access to motion picture making through amateur gauges has been a marginalisation of the outcome for format reasons alone (Zimmermann, Professional 24; Reekie 110) Eastman Kodak established their 16mm as the acceptable substandard for many non-theatrical uses of film in the 1920s, Pathé’s earlier 28mm having already had some success in this area (Mebold and Tepperman 137, 148-9). But 16mm was still relatively expensive for the home market, and when Kiyooka Eiichi filmed his drive across the US in 1927, his 16mm camera alone cost more than his car (Ruoff 240, 243). Against this, 9.5mm, 8mm and eventually Super 8 were the increasingly affordable substandards to the substandard, marginalised twice over in the commercial world, but far more popular in the consumer market. The 1960s underground film, and the modern artists’ film that was partly recuperated from it, was overwhelmingly based on 16mm, as the collections of its chief distributors, the New York Film-Makers’ Co-op, Canyon Cinema and the Lux clearly show. In the context of experimental film’s longstanding commitment to 16mm, an artist filmmaker’s choice to work with Super 8 had important resonances. Experimental work on 8mm and Super 8 is not hard to come by, even from the 1960s, but consider the cultural stakes of Jonas Mekas’s description of 8mm films as “beautiful folk art, like song and lyric poetry, that was created by the people” (Mekas 83). The evocation of ‘folk art’ signals a yawning gap between 8mm, whose richness has been produced collectively by a large and anonymous group, and the work produced by individual artists such as those (like Mekas himself) who founded the New American Cinema Group. The resonance for artists of the 1960s and 1970s who worked with 8mm and Super 8 was from their status as the premier vulgar film gauge, compounding-through-repetition their choice to work with film at all. By the time Super 8 was declared ‘dead’ in 1980, numerous works by canonical artists had been made in the format (Stan Brakhage, Derek Jarman, Carolee Schneemann, Anthony McCall), and various practices had evolved around the specific possibilities of this emulsion and that camera. The camcorder not only displaced Super 8 as the simplest to use, most ubiquitous and cheapest moving image format, at the same time it changed the hierarchy of moving image formats because Super 8 was now incontestably better than something. Further, beyond the ubiquity, simplicity and size, camcorder video and Super 8 film had little in common. Camcorder replay took advantage of the ubiquity of television, but to this day video projection remains a relatively expensive business and for some time after 1980 the projectors were rare and of undistinguished quality. Until the more recent emergence of large format television (also relatively expensive), projection was necessary to screen to anything beyond very small audience. So, considering the gestalt aspect of these technologies and their functions, camcorders could replace Super 8 only for the capture of home movies and small-scale domestic replay. Super 8 maintained its position as the cheapest way into filmmaking for at least 20 years after its ‘death’, but lost its position as the premier ‘folk’ moving image format. It remained a key format for experimental film through the 1990s, but with constant competition from evolving analogue and digital video, and improved and more affordable video projection, its market share diminished. Kodak has continued to assert the viability of its film stocks and gauges, but across 2005-06 it deleted its Kodachrome Super 8, 16mm and slide range (Kodak, Kodachrome). This became a newsworthy Super 8 story (see Morgan; NYT; Hodgkinson; Radio 4) because Super 8 was the first deletion announced, this was very close to 8 May 2005, which was Global Super 8 Day, Kodachrome 40 (K40) was Super 8’s most famous and still used stock, and because 2005 was Super 8’s 40th birthday. Kodachome was then the most long-lived colour process still available, but there were only two labs left in the world which could supply processing- Kodak’s Lausanne Kodachrome lab in Switzerland, using the authentic company method, and Dwayne’s Photo in the US, using a tolerable but substandard process (Hodgkinson). Kodak launched a replacement stock simultaneously, and indeed the variety of Super 8 stocks is increasing year to year, partly because of new Kodak releases and partly because other companies split Kodak’s 16mm and 35mm stock for use as Super 8 (Allen; Muldowney; Pro8mm; Dager). Nonetheless, the cancelling of K40 convulsed the artists’ film community, and a spirited defence of its unique and excellent properties was lead by artist and activist Pip Chodorov. Chodorov met with a Kodak executive at the Cannes Film Festival, appealed to the French Government and started an online petition. His campaign circular read: EXPLAIN THE ADVANTAGES OF K40We have to show why we care specifically about Kodachrome and why Ektachrome is not a replacement. Kodachrome […] whose fine grain and warm colors […] are often used as a benchmark of quality for other stocks. The unique qualities of the Kodachrome image should be pointed out, and especially the differences between Kodachrome and Ektachrome […]. What great films were shot in Kodachrome, and why? […] What are the advantages to the K-14 process and the Lausanne laboratory? Is K40 a more stable stock, is it more preservable, do the colors fade resistant? Point out differences in the sensitometry curves, the grain structure... There was a rash of protest screenings, including a special all-day programme at Le Festival des Cinemas Différents de Paris, about which Raphaël Bassan wrote This initiative was justified, Kodak having announced in 2005 that it was going to stop the manufacturing of the ultra-sensitive film Kodachrome 40, which allowed such recognized artists as Gérard Courant, Joseph Morder, Stéphane Marti and a whole new generation of filmmakers to express themselves through this supple and inexpensive format with such a particular texture. (Bassan) The distance Super 8 has travelled culturally since analogue video can be seen in the distance between these statements of excellence and the attributes of Super 8 and 8mm that appealed to earlier artists: The great thing about Super 8 is that you can switch is onto automatic and get beyond all those technicalities” (Jarman)An 8mm camera is the ballpoint of the visual world. Soon […] people will use camera-pens as casually as they jot memos today […] and the narrow gauge can make finished works of art. (Durgnat 30) Far from the traits that defined it as an amateur gauge, Super 8 is now lionised in terms more resembling a chemistry historian’s eulogy to the pigments used in Dark Ages illuminated manuscripts. From bic to laspis lazuli. Indie and Pro Super 8 Historian of the US amateur film Patricia R. Zimmermann has charted the long collision between small gauge film, domesticity and the various ‘how-to’ publications designed to bridge the gap. In this she pays particular attention to the ‘how-to’ publications’ drive to assert the commercial feature film as the only model worthy of emulation (Professional 267; Reel xii). This drive continues today in numerous magazines and books addressing the consumer and pro-sumer levels. Alan D. Kattelle has charted a different history of the US amateur film, concentrating on the cine clubs and their national organisation, the Amateur Cine League (ACL), competitive events and distribution, a somewhat less domestic part of the movement which aimed less at family documentation more toward ‘photo-plays’, travelogues and instructionals. Just as interested in achieving professional results with amateur means, the ACL encouraged excellence and some of their filmmakers received commissions to make more widely seen films (Kattelle, Amateur 242). The ACL’s Ten Best competition still exists as The American International Film and Video Festival (Kattelle, Amateur 242), but its remit has changed from being “a showcase for amateur films” to being open “to all non-commercial films regardless of the status of the film makers” (AMPS). This points to both the relative marginalisation of the mid-century notion of the amateur, and that successful professionals and others working in the penumbra of independent production surrounding the industry proper are now important contributors to the festival. Both these groups are the economically important contemporary users of Super 8, but they use it in different ways. Low budget productions use it as cheap alternative to larger gauges or HD digital video and a better capture format than dv, while professional productions use it as a lo-fi format precisely for its degradation and archaic home movie look (Allen; Polisin). Pro8mm is a key innovator, service provider and advocate of Super 8 as an industry standard tool, and is an important and long serving agent in what should be seen as the normalisation of Super 8 – a process of redressing its pariah status as a cheap substandard to the substandard, while progressively erasing the special qualities of Super 8 that underlay this. The company started as Super8 Sound, innovating a sync-sound system in 1971, prior to the release of Kodak’s magnetic stripe sound Super 8 in 1973. Kodak’s Super 8 sound film was discontinued in 1997, and in 2005 Pro8mm produced the Max8 format by altering camera front ends to shoot onto the unused stripe space, producing a better quality image for widescreen. In between they started cutting professional 35mm stocks for Super 8 cameras and are currently investing in ever more high-quality HD film scanners (Allen; Pro8mm). Simultaneous to this, Kodak has brought out a series of stocks for Super 8, and more have been cut down for Super 8 by third parties, that offer a wider range of light responses or ever finer grain structure, thus progressively removing the limitations and visible artefacts associated with the format (Allen; Muldowney; Perkins; Kodak, Motion). These films stocks are designed to be captured to digital video as a normal part of their processing, and then entered into the contemporary digital work flow, leaving little or no indication of the their origins on a format designed to be the 1960s equivalent of the Box Brownie. However, while Super 8 has been used by financially robust companies to produce full-length programmes, its role at the top end of production is more usually as home movie footage and/or to evoke pastness. When service provider and advocate OnSuper8 interviewed professional cinematographer James Chressanthis, he asserted that “if there is a problem with Super 8 it is that it can look too good!” and spent much of the interview explaining how a particular combination of stocks, low shutter speeds and digital conversion could reproduce the traditional degraded look and avoid “looking like a completely transparent professional medium” (Perkins). In his history of the British amateur movement, Duncan Reekie deals with this distinction between the professional and amateur moving image, defining the professional as having a drive towards clarity [that] eventually produced [what] we could term ‘hyper-lucidity’, a form of cinematography which idealises the perception of the human eye: deep focus, increased colour saturation, digital effects and so on. (108) Against this the amateur as distinguished by a visible cinematic surface, where the screen image does not seem natural or fluent but is composed of photographic grain which in 8mm appears to vibrate and weave. Since the amateur often worked with only one reversal print the final film would also often become scratched and dirty. (108-9) As Super 8’s function has moved away from the home movie, so its look has adjusted to the new role. Kodak’s replacement for K40 was finer grained (Kodak, Kodak), designed for a life as good to high quality digital video rather than a film strip, and so for video replay rather than a small gauge projector. In the economy that supports Super 8’s survival, its cameras and film stock have become part of a different gestalt. Continued use is still justified by appeals to geist, but the geist of film in a general and abstract way, not specific to Super 8 and more closely resembling the industry-centric view of film propounded by decades of ‘how-to’ guides. Activity that originally supported Super 8 continues, and currently has embraced the ubiquitous and extremely substandard cameras embedded in mobile phones and still cameras for home movies and social documentation. As Super 8 has moved to a new cultural position it has shed its most recognisable trait, the visible surface of grain and scratches, and it is that which has become obsolete, discontinued and the focus of nostalgia, along with the sound of a film projector (which you can get to go with films transferred to dvd). So it will be left to artist filmmaker Peter Tscherkassky, talking in 1995 about what Super 8 was to him in the 1980s, to evoke what there is to miss about Super 8 today. Unlike any other format, Super-8 was a microscope, making visible the inner life of images by entering beneath the skin of reality. […] Most remarkable of all was the grain. While 'resolution' is the technical term for the sharpness of a film image, Super-8 was really never too concerned with this. Here, quite a different kind of resolution could be witnessed: the crystal-clear and bright light of a Xenon-projection gave us shapes dissolving into the grain; amorphous bodies and forms surreptitiously transformed into new shapes and disappeared again into a sea of colour. Super-8 was the pointillism, impressionism and the abstract expressionism of cinematography. (Howath) Bibliography Allen, Tom. “‘Making It’ in Super 8.” MovieMaker Magazine 8 Feb. 1994. 1 May 2009 ‹http://www.moviemaker.com/directing/article/making_it_in_super_8_3044/›. AMPS. “About the American Motion Picture Society.” American Motion Picture Society site. 2009. 25 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.ampsvideo.com›. Bassan, Raphaël. “Identity of Cinema: Experimental and Different (review of Festival des Cinémas Différents de Paris, 2005).” Senses of Cinema 44 (July-Sep. 2007). 25 Apr. 2009 ‹http://archive.sensesofcinema.com/contents/07/44/experimental-cinema-bassan.html›. Chodorov, Pip. “To Save Kodochrome.” Frameworks list, 14 May 2005. 28 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.hi-beam.net/fw/fw29/0216.html›. Dager, Nick. “Kodak Unveils Latest Film Stock in Vision3 Family.” Digital Cinema Report 5 Jan. 2009. 27 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.digitalcinemareport.com/Kodak-Vision3-film›. Durgnat, Raymond. “Flyweight Flicks.” GAZWRX: The Films of Jeff Keen booklet. Originally published in Films and Filming (Feb. 1965). London: BFI, 2009. 30-31. Frye, Brian L. “‘Me, I Just Film My Life’: An Interview with Jonas Mekas.” Senses of Cinema 44 (July-Sep. 2007). 15 Apr. 2009 ‹http://archive.sensesofcinema.com/contents/07/44/jonas-mekas-interview.html›. Hodgkinson, Will. “End of the Reel for Super 8.” Guardian 28 Sep. 2006. 20 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2006/sep/28/1›. Horwath, Alexander. “Singing in the Rain - Supercinematography by Peter Tscherkassky.” Senses of Cinema 28 (Sep.-Oct. 2003). 5 May 2009 ‹http://archive.sensesofcinema.com/contents/03/28/tscherkassky.html›. Jarman, Derek. In Institute of Contemporary Arts Video Library Guide. London: ICA, 1987. Kattelle, Alan D. Home Movies: A History of the American Industry, 1897-1979. Hudson, Mass.: self-published, 2000. ———. “The Amateur Cinema League and its films.” Film History 15.2 (2003): 238-51. Kodak. “Kodak Celebrates 40th Anniversary of Super 8 Film Announces New Color Reversal Product to Portfolio.“ Frameworks list, 9 May 2005. 23 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.hi-beam.net/fw/fw29/0150.html›. ———. “Kodachrome Update.” 30 Jun. 2006. 24 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.hi-beam.net/fw/fw32/0756.html›. ———. “Motion Picture Film, Digital Cinema, Digital Intermediate.” 2009. 2 Apr. 2009 ‹http://motion.kodak.com/US/en/motion/index.htm?CID=go&idhbx=motion›. Mekas, Jonas. “8mm as Folk Art.” Movie Journal: The Rise of the New American Cinema, 1959-1971. Ed. Jonas Mekas. Originally Published in Village Voice 1963. New York: Macmillan, 1972. Morgan, Spencer. “Kodak, Don't Take My Kodachrome.” New York Times 31 May 2005. 4 Apr. 2009 ‹http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9F05E1DF1F39F932A05756C0A9639C8B63&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=2›. ———. “Fans Beg: Don't Take Kodachrome Away.” New York Times 1 Jun. 2005. 4 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/31/technology/31iht-kodak.html›. Muldowney, Lisa. “Kodak Ups the Ante with New Motion Picture Film.” MovieMaker Magazine 30 Nov. 2007. 6 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.moviemaker.com/cinematography/article/kodak_ups_the_ante_with_new_motion_picture_film/›. New York Times. “Super 8 Blues.” 31 May 2005: E1. Perkins, Giles. “A Pro's Approach to Super 8.” OnSuper8 Blogspot 16 July 2007. 13 Apr. 2009 ‹http://onsuper8.blogspot.com/2007/07/pros-approach-to-super-8.html›. Polisin, Douglas. “Pro8mm Asks You to Think Big, Shoot Small.” MovieMaker Magazine 4 Feb. 2009. 1 May 2009 ‹http://www.moviemaker.com/cinematography/article/think_big_shoot_small_rhonda_vigeant_pro8mm_20090127/›. Pro8mm. “Pro8mm Company History.” Super 8 /16mm Cameras, Film, Processing & Scanning (Pro8mm blog) 12 Mar. 2008. 3 May 2009 ‹http://pro8mm-burbank.blogspot.com/2008/03/pro8mm-company-history.html›. Radio 4. No More Yellow Envelopes 24 Dec. 2006. 4 May 2009 ‹http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/factual/pip/m6yx0/›. Reekie, Duncan. Subversion: The Definitive History of the Underground Cinema. London: Wallflower Press, 2007. Sneakernet, Christopher Hutsul. “Kodachrome: Not Digital, But Still Delightful.” Toronto Star 26 Sep. 2005. Swanson, Dwight. “Inventing Amateur Film: Marion Norris Gleason, Eastman Kodak and the Rochester Scene, 1921-1932.” Film History 15.2 (2003): 126-36 Zimmermann, Patricia R. “Professional Results with Amateur Ease: The Formation of Amateur Filmmaking Aesthetics 1923-1940.” Film History 2.3 (1988): 267-81. ———. Reel Families: A Social History of Amateur Film. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1995.

No man [...] can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which one may be true. (Nathaniel Hawthorne Scarlet Letter – as seen and pondered by Tony Soprano at Bowdoin College, The Sopranos, Season 1, Episode 5: “College”)The fictitious is a particular and varied source of insight into the everyday world. The idea of seriality—with its variations of the serial, series, seriated—is very much connected to our patterns of entertainment. In this essay, I want to begin the process of testing what values and meanings can be drawn from the idea of seriality into comprehending the play of persona in contemporary culture. From a brief overview of the intersection of persona and seriality as well as a review of the deployment of seriality in popular culture, the article focuses on the character/ person-actor relationship to demonstrate how seriality produces persona. The French term for character—personnage—will be used to underline the clear relations between characterisation, person, and persona which have been developed by the recent work by Lenain and Wiame. Personnage, through its variation on the word person helps push the analysis into fully understanding the particular and integrated configuration between a public persona and the fictional role that an actor inhabits (Heinich).There are several qualities related to persona that allow this movement from the fictional world to the everyday world to be profitable. Persona, in terms of origins, in and of itself implies performance and display. Jung, for instance, calls persona a mask where one is “acting a role” (167); while Goffman considers that performance and roles are at the centre of everyday life and everyday forms and patterns of communication. In recent work, I have use persona to describe how online culture pushes most people to construct a public identity that resembles what celebrities have had to construct for their livelihood for at least the last century (“Persona”; “Self”). My work has expanded to an investigation of how online persona relates to individual agency (“Agency”) and professional postures and positioning (Barbour and Marshall).The fictive constructions then are intensified versions of what persona is addressing: the fabrication of a role for particular directions and ends. Characters or personnages are constructed personas for very directed ends. Their limitation to the study of persona as a dimension of public culture is that they are not real; however, when one thinks of the actor who takes on this fictive identity, there is clearly a relationship between the real personality and that of the character. Moreover, as Nayar’s analysis of highly famous characters that are fictitious reveals, these celebrated characters, such as Harry Potter or Wolverine, sometime take on a public presence in and of themselves. To capture this public movement of a fictional character, Nayar blends the terms celebrity with fiction and calls these semi-public/semi-real entities “celefiction”: the characters are famous, highly visible, and move across media, information, and cultural platforms with ease and speed (18-20). Their celebrity status underlines their power to move outside of their primary text into public discourse and through public spaces—an extra-textual movement which fundamentally defines what a celebrity embodies.Seriality has to be seen as fundamental to a personnage’s power of and extension into the public world. For instance with Harry Potter again, at least some of his recognition is dependent on the linking or seriating the related books and movies. Seriality helps organise our sense of affective connection to our popular culture. The familiarity of some element of repetition is both comforting for audiences and provides at least a sense of guarantee or warranty that they will enjoy the future text as much as they enjoyed the past related text. Seriality, though, also produces a myriad of other effects and affects which provides a useful background to understand its utility in both the understanding of character and its value in investigating contemporary public persona. Etymologically, the words “series” and seriality are from the Latin and refer to “succession” in classical usage and are identified with ancestry and the patterns of identification and linking descendants (Oxford English Dictionary). The original use of the seriality highlights its value in understanding the formation of the constitution of person and persona and how the past and ancestry connect in series to the current or contemporary self. Its current usage, however, has broadened metaphorically outwards to identify anything that is in sequence or linked or joined: it can be a series of lectures and arguments or a related mark of cars manufactured in a manner that are stylistically linked. It has since been deployed to capture the production process of various cultural forms and one of the key origins of this usage came from the 19th century novel. There are many examples where the 19th century novel was sold and presented in serial form that are too numerous to even summarise here. It is useful to use Dickens’ serial production as a defining example of how seriality moved into popular culture and the entertainment industry more broadly. Part of the reason for the sheer length of many of Charles Dickens’ works related to their original distribution as serials. In fact, all his novels were first distributed in chapters in monthly form in magazines or newspapers. A number of related consequences from Dickens’ serialisation are relevant to understanding seriality in entertainment culture more widely (Hayward). First, his novel serialisation established a continuous connection to his readers over years. Thus Dickens’ name itself became synonymous and connected to an international reading public. Second, his use of seriality established a production form that was seen to be more affordable to its audience: seriality has to be understood as a form that is closely connected to economies and markets as cultural commodities kneaded their way into the structure of everyday life. And third, seriality established through repetition not only the author’s name but also the name of the key characters that populated the cultural form. Although not wholly attributable to the serial nature of the delivery, the characters such as Oliver Twist, Ebenezer Scrooge or David Copperfield along with a host of other major and minor players in his many books become integrated into everyday discourse because of their ever-presence and delayed delivery over stories over time (see Allen 78-79). In the same way that newspapers became part of the vernacular of contemporary culture, fictional characters from novels lived for years at a time in the consciousness of this large reading public. The characters or personnages themselves became personalities that through usage became a way of describing other behaviours. One can think of Uriah Heep and his sheer obsequiousness in David Copperfield as a character-type that became part of popular culture thinking and expressing a clear negative sentiment about a personality trait. In the twentieth century, serials became associated much more with book series. One of the more successful serial genres was the murder mystery. It developed what could be described as recognisable personnages that were both fictional and real. Thus, the real Agatha Christie with her consistent and prodigious production of short who-dunnit novels was linked to her Belgian fictional detective Hercule Poirot. Variations of these serial constructions occurred in children’s fiction, the emerging science fiction genre, and westerns with authors and characters rising to related prominence.In a similar vein, early to mid-twentieth century film produced the film serial. In its production and exhibition, the film serial was a déclassé genre in its overt emphasis on the economic quality of seriality. Thus, the film serial was generally a filler genre that was interspersed before and after a feature film in screenings (Dixon). As well as producing a familiarity with characters such as Flash Gordon, it was also instrumental in producing actors with a public profile that grew from this repetition. Flash Gordon was not just a character; he was also the actor Buster Crabbe and, over time, the association became indissoluble for audiences and actor alike. Feature film serials also developed in the first half-century of American cinema in particular with child actors like Shirley Temple, Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland often reprising variations of their previous roles. Seriality more or less became the standard form of delivery of broadcast media for most of the last 70 years and this was driven by the economies of production it developed. Whether the production was news, comedy, or drama, most radio and television forms were and are variation of serials. As well as being the zenith of seriality, television serials have been the most studied form of seriality of all cultural forms and are thus the greatest source of research into what serials actually produced. The classic serial that began on radio and migrated to television was the soap opera. Although most of the long-running soap operas have now disappeared, many have endured for more than 30 years with the American series The Guiding Light lasting 72 years and the British soap Coronation Street now in its 64th year. Australian nighttime soap operas have managed a similar longevity: Neighbours is in its 30th year, while Home and Away is in its 27th year. Much of the analyses of soap operas and serials deals with the narrative and the potential long narrative arcs related to characters and storylines. In contrast to most evening television serials historically, soap operas maintain the continuity from one episode to the next in an unbroken continuity narrative. Evening television serials, such as situation comedies, while maintaining long arcs over their run are episodic in nature: the structure of the story is generally concluded in the given episode with at least partial closure in a manner that is never engaged with in the never-ending soap opera serials.Although there are other cultural forms that deploy seriality in their structures—one can think of comic books and manga as two obvious other connected and highly visible serial sources—online and video games represent the other key media platform of serials in contemporary culture. Once again, a “horizon of expectation” (Jauss and De Man 23) motivates the iteration of new versions of games by the industry. New versions of games are designed to build on gamer loyalties while augmenting the quality and possibilities of the particular game. Game culture and gamers have a different structural relationship to serials which at least Denson and Jahn-Sudmann describe as digital seriality: a new version of a game is also imagined to be technologically more sophisticated in its production values and this transformation of the similitude of game structure with innovation drives the economy of what are often described as “franchises.” New versions of Minecraft as online upgrades or Call of Duty launches draw the literal reinvestment of the gamer. New consoles provide a further push to serialisation of games as they accentuate some transformed quality in gameplay, interaction, or quality of animated graphics. Sports franchises are perhaps the most serialised form of game: to replicate new professional seasons in each major sport, the sports game transforms with a new coterie of players each year.From these various venues, one can see the centrality of seriality in cultural forms. There is no question that one of the dimensions of seriality that transcends these cultural forms is its coordination and intersection with the development of the industrialisation of culture and this understanding of the economic motivation behind series has been explored from some of the earliest analyses of seriality (see Hagedorn; Browne). Also, seriality has been mined extensively in terms of its production of the pleasure of repetition and transformation. The exploration of the popular, whether in studies of readers of romance fiction (Radway), or fans of science fiction television (Tulloch and Jenkins; Jenkins), serials have provided the resource for the exploration of the power of the audience to connect, engage and reconstruct texts.The analysis of the serialisation of character—the production of a public personnage—and its relation to persona surprisingly has been understudied. While certain writers have remarked on the longevity of a certain character, such as Vicky Lord’s 40 year character on the soap opera One Life to Live, and the interesting capacity to maintain both complicated and hidden storylines (de Kosnik), and fan audience studies have looked at the parasocial-familiar relationship that fan and character construct, less has been developed about the relationship of the serial character, the actor and a form of twinned public identity. Seriality does produce a patterning of personnage, a structure of familiarity for the audience, but also a structure of performance for the actor. For instance, in a longitudinal analysis of the character of Fu Manchu, Mayer is able to discern how a patterning of iconic form shapes, replicates, and reiterates the look of Fu Manchu across decades of films (Mayer). Similarly, there has been a certain work on the “taxonomy of character” where the serial character of a television program is analysed in terms of 6 parts: physical traits/appearance; speech patterns, psychological traits/habitual behaviours; interaction with other characters; environment; biography (Pearson quoted in Lotz).From seriality what emerges is a particular kind of “type-casting” where the actor becomes wedded to the specific iteration of the taxonomy of performance. As with other elements related to seriality, serial character performance is also closely aligned to the economic. Previously I have described this economic patterning of performance the “John Wayne Syndrome.” Wayne’s career developed into a form of serial performance where the individual born as Marion Morrison becomes structured into a cultural and economic category that determines the next film role. The economic weight of type also constructs the limits and range of the actor. Type or typage as a form of casting has always been an element of film and theatrical performance; but it is the seriality of performance—the actual construction of a personnage that flows between the fictional and real person—that allows an actor to claim a persona that can be exchanged within the industry. Even 15 years after his death, Wayne remained one of the most popular performers in the United States, his status unrivalled in its close definition of American value that became wedded with a conservative masculinity and politics (Wills).Type and typecasting have an interesting relationship to seriality. From Eisenstein’s original use of the term typage, where the character is chosen to fit into the meaning of the film and the image was placed into its sequence to make that meaning, it generally describes the circumscribing of the actor into their look. As Wojcik’s analysis reveals, typecasting in various periods of theatre and film acting has been seen as something to be fought for by actors (in the 1850s) and actively resisted in Hollywood in 1950 by the Screen Actors Guild in support of more range of roles for each actor. It is also seen as something that leads to cultural stereotypes that can reinforce the racial profiling that has haunted diverse cultures and the dangers of law enforcement for centuries (Wojcik 169-71). Early writers in the study of film acting, emphasised that its difference from theatre was that in film the actor and character converged in terms of connected reality and a physicality: the film actor was less a mask and more a sense of “being”(Kracauer). Cavell’s work suggested film over stage performance allowed an individuality over type to emerge (34). Thompson’s semiotic “commutation” test was another way of assessing the power of the individual “star” actor to be seen as elemental to the construction and meaning of the film role Television produced with regularity character-actors where performance and identity became indissoluble partly because of the sheer repetition and the massive visibility of these seriated performances.One of the most typecast individuals in television history was Leonard Nimoy as Spock in Star Trek: although the original Star Trek series ran for only three seasons, the physical caricature of Spock in the series as a half-Vulcan and half-human made it difficult for the actor Nimoy to exit the role (Laws). Indeed, his famous autobiography riffed on this mis-identity with the forceful but still economically powerful title I am Not Spock in 1975. When Nimoy perceived that his fans thought that he was unhappy in his role as Spock, he published a further tome—I Am Spock—that righted his relationship to his fictional identity and its continued source of roles for the previous 30 years. Although it is usually perceived as quite different in its constitution of a public identity, a very similar structure of persona developed around the American CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite. With his status as anchor confirmed in its power and centrality to American culture in his desk reportage of the assassination and death of President Kennedy in November 1963, Cronkite went on to inhabit a persona as the most trusted man in the United States by the sheer gravitas of hosting the Evening News stripped across every weeknight at 6:30pm for the next 19 years. In contrast to Nimoy, Cronkite became Cronkite the television news anchor, where persona, actor, and professional identity merged—at least in terms of almost all forms of the man’s visibility.From this vantage point of understanding the seriality of character/personnage and how it informs the idea of the actor, I want to provide a longer conclusion about how seriality informs the concept of persona in the contemporary moment. First of all, what this study reveals is the way in which the production of identity is overlaid onto any conception of identity itself. If we can understand persona not in any negative formulation, but rather as a form of productive performance of a public self, then it becomes very useful to see that these very visible public blendings of performance and the actor-self can make sense more generally as to how the public self is produced and constituted. My final and concluding examples will try and elucidate this insight further.In 2013, Netflix launched into the production of original drama with its release of House of Cards. The series itself was remarkable for a number of reasons. First among them, it was positioned as a quality series and clearly connected to the lineage of recent American subscription television programs such as The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Dexter, Madmen, The Wire, Deadwood, and True Blood among a few others. House of Cards was an Americanised version of a celebrated British mini-series. In the American version, an ambitious party whip, Frank Underwood, manoeuvres with ruthlessness and the calculating support of his wife closer to the presidency and the heart and soul of American power. How the series expressed quality was at least partially in its choice of actors. The role of Frank Underwood was played by the respected film actor Kevin Spacey. His wife, Clare, was played by the equally high profile Robin Warren. Quality was also expressed through the connection of the audience of viewers to an anti-hero: a personnage that was not filled with virtue but moved with Machiavellian acuity towards his objective of ultimate power. This idea of quality emerged in many ways from the successful construction of the character of Tony Soprano by James Gandolfini in the acclaimed HBO television series The Sopranos that reconstructed the very conception of the family in organised crime. Tony Soprano was enacted as complex and conflicted with a sense of right and justice, but embedded in the personnage were psychological tropes and scars, and an understanding of the need for violence to maintain influence power and a perverse but natural sense of order (Martin).The new television serial character now embodied a larger code and coterie of acting: from The Sopranos, there is the underlying sense and sensibility of method acting (see Vineberg; Stanislavski). Gandolfini inhabited the role of Tony Soprano and used the inner and hidden drives and motivations to become the source for the display of the character. Likewise, Spacey inhabits Frank Underwood. In that new habitus of television character, the actor becomes subsumed by the role. Gandolfini becomes both over-determined by the role and his own identity as an actor becomes melded to the role. Kevin Spacey, despite his longer and highly visible history as a film actor is overwhelmed by the televisual role of Frank Underwood. Its serial power, where audiences connect for hours and hours, where the actor commits to weeks and weeks of shoots, and years and years of being the character—a serious character with emotional depth, with psychological motivation that rivals the most visceral of film roles—transforms the actor into a blended public person and the related personnage.This blend of fictional and public life is complex as much for the producing actor as it is for the audience that makes the habitus real. What Kevin Spacey/Frank Underwood inhabit is a blended persona, whose power is dependent on the constructed identity that is at source the actor’s production as much as any institutional form or any writer or director connected to making House of Cards “real.” There is no question that this serial public identity will be difficult for Kevin Spacey to disentangle when the series ends; in many ways it will be an elemental part of his continuing public identity. This is the economic power and risk of seriality.One can see similar blendings in the persona in popular music and its own form of contemporary seriality in performance. For example, Eminem is a stage name for a person sometimes called Marshall Mathers; but Eminem takes this a step further and produces beyond a character in its integration of the personal—a real personnage, Slim Shady, to inhabit his music and its stories. To further complexify this construction, Eminem relies on the production of his stories with elements that appear to be from his everyday life (Dawkins). His characterisations because of the emotional depth he inhabits through his rapped stories betray a connection to his own psychological state. Following in the history of popular music performance where the singer-songwriter’s work is seen by all to present a version of the public self that is closer emotionally to the private self, we once again see how the seriality of performance begins to produce a blended public persona. Rap music has inherited this seriality of produced identity from twentieth century icons of the singer/songwriter and its display of the public/private self—in reverse order from grunge to punk, from folk to blues.Finally, it is worthwhile to think of online culture in similar ways in the production of public personas. Seriality is elemental to online culture. Social media encourage the production of public identities through forms of repetition of that identity. In order to establish a public profile, social media users establish an identity with some consistency over time. The everydayness in the production of the public self online thus resembles the production and performance of seriality in fiction. Professional social media sites such as LinkedIn encourage the consistency of public identity and this is very important in understanding the new versions of the public self that are deployed in contemporary culture. However, much like the new psychological depth that is part of the meaning of serial characters such as Frank Underwood in House of Cards, Slim Shady in Eminem, or Tony Soprano in The Sopranos, social media seriality also encourages greater revelations of the private self via Instagram and Facebook walls and images. We are collectively reconstituted as personas online, seriated by the continuing presence of our online sites and regularly drawn to reveal more and greater depths of our character. In other words, the online persona resembles the new depth of the quality television serial personnage with elaborate arcs and great complexity. Seriality in our public identity is also uncovered in the production of our game avatars where, in order to develop trust and connection to friends in online settings, we maintain our identity and our patterns of gameplay. At the core of this online identity is a desire for visibility, and we are drawn to be “picked up” and shared in some repeatable form across what we each perceive as a meaningful dimension of culture. Through the circulation of viral images, texts, and videos we engage in a circulation and repetition of meaning that feeds back into the constancy and value of an online identity. Through memes we replicate and seriate content that at some level seriates personas in terms of humour, connection and value.Seriality is central to understanding the formation of our masks of public identity and is at least one valuable analytical way to understand the development of the contemporary persona. This essay represents the first foray in thinking through the relationship between seriality and persona.ReferencesBarbour, Kim, and P. David Marshall. “The Academic Online Constructing Persona.” First Monday 17.9 (2012).Browne, Nick. “The Political Economy of the (Super)Text.” Quarterly Review of Film Studies 9.3 (1984): 174-82. Cavell, Stanley. “Reflections on the Ontology of Film.” Movie Acting: The Film Reader. Ed. Wojcik and Pamela Robertson. 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