Journal articles on the topic 'British Engravers'

Eric Fitch Daglish (1892–1966) was a naturalist by inclination, a free-lance author and editor in business and, by practice, a wood-engraver of high repute. Taught wood-engraving skills by Paul Nash, he was a close friend also of other famous engravers (John Nash, Eric Gill) within the Society of Wood Engravers. He applied these skills to illustrating his own books for popular audiences on topics ranging from flowers to birds, beasts and the English countryside. Fluent in German, he translated books from that language to supplement his income in the years succeeding the First World War. He is perhaps best known for his bird books: Woodcuts of British birds, The life story of birds and Birds of the British Isles, but was also a prolific writer about dogs. His oeuvre is examined, and his contribution compared with other contemporary bird artists who embraced wood-engraving techniques. A bibliography of his natural history works as author and as editor is included.

Millions of hand-coloured illustrations were incorporated in zoological books and journals between about 1710 and 1925. All the combined skills of the artists, etchers, engravers and lithographers, to produce good and accurate figures for these illustrations could be ruined by bad colouring. Yet we know the names of very few colourists who undertook this vital part of the publishing process. The identity of some of the British colourists, their working conditions and wages, and their method of working have been established from many scattered sources.

The responses of pine engravers, Ipspini (Say), in British Columbia to ipsdienol-baited traps containing low, medium, and high dose rates of the antiaggregants verbenone and ipsenol, released from impregnated polyethylene and polypropylene beads, respectively, remained significantly lower than responses to ipsdienol-baited control traps throughout the spring. During the summer, the responses remained low only in traps containing medium and high dose rates of impregnated beads. Antiaggregant treatment densities of 100 and 400 bubble cap release points per hectare reduced the numbers of pine engravers caught in ipsdienol-baited, multiple-funnel traps by 66.1 and 76.8%, respectively. In 50 × 50 m thinning-simulation plots treated with a broadcast distribution of antiaggregant-impregnated beads in 1990, 32.9% of the felled lodgepole pines, Pinuscontorta Dougl., were attacked; in untreated control plots, 53.1% were attacked. The mean attack density per square metre of available bark surface in the treated plots (1.3) was significantly lower than that in the untreated plots (1.9); however, where attack occurred there was no difference (8.8 and 9.4 attacks/m2, respectively). In a 1991 experiment, verbenone- and ipsenol-impregnated beads were applied to 15 × 15 m thinning-simulation plots at initial release rates of 2.5 mg of verbenone and 0.05 mg of ipsenol per square metre of ground surface per day, and at double these rates. For three treatments, low and high rates 3 weeks prior to the first attack by I. pini and a high rate 2 weeks prior to attack, the mean attacks per square metre of available bark surface per week were reduced by 77.1, 82.9, and 97.1%, respectively, compared with attacks on felled pines in untreated control plots. The results of these experiments suggest that a timely application of broadcast antiaggregants would prevent the development of an outbreak population of I. pini.

The capture of pine engravers, Ipspini (Say), in ipdienol-baited, multiple-funnel traps in British Columbia was significantly reduced when devices releasing ipsenol or verbenone were placed in the traps. These results suggest that ipsenol and verbenone are synomones released by Ipslatidens (LeC.) and the mountain pine beetle, Dendroctonusponderosae Hopk., respectively. When verbenone and ipsenol were released together from five stations 2 m apart on felled trees, at 50 and 1.5 mg per day per tree, respectively, there was a 66.7% reduction in the number of logs attacked and a 98.8% reduction in attack density. The same treatment caused a 74.1% reduction in attack density on standing trees surrounded by a 4 × 4 grid of 16 release devices at 5- m centres. The antiaggregant composition of verbenone plus ipsenol has considerable operational potential for use in precommercial thinnings and in areas where standing pines are of high value; e.g., in rural subdivisions, shelterbelts, and recreational forests.

The history of English antiquarianism is particular importance in the study of the process of formation of national identity and the preservation of national heritage. The purpose of the article is to analyze and systematize the corpus of historiographical works on the problems of history and historiography of English antiques, to define the role of the Society of Antiquaries of London in the formation of British identity and patriotism. Scientific tasks of the article are to carry out a comprehensive analysis of the historiographic works on the problems of the origin and formation of the English tradition of antiquity and antiquities, to outline the main stages of the formation of the oldest society of antiques. The novelty and degree of development follows from the fact that today in Ukrainian historical science there are no generalizing works on the history and historiography of English antiquaries and the London Society of Antiquaries. However, there is a corpus of historiographical works on the individual components of this complex problem. The antiquarian classes of the eighteenth century cannot be dismissed as unconvincing dilettantism, detached from modern life, or confronting the spirit of the Enlightenment. Antiquarianism was of great importance, both in practical and cultural life in Britain. It embodied the nostalgia of years past for those who feared the coming changes, but equally it could serve as an illustration of the past, demonstrating the progress of the present and the unquestionable superiority of the modern century over the backwardness of past times. At the same time, antiquaries made a clear contribution to the formation of British identity and famous English patriotism. Their merits in the field of culture and the arts are also difficult to overestimate: they contributed to the development of the printing business, the art of book design, and infected their enthusiasm with artists, painters, engravers who, through them, became passionate fans of the medieval past of Britain.

The pair of paperweights illustrated on the front cover of this issue of Polar Record and reproduced as Fig. 1 were made in 1889 at the Burslem pottery of James Macintyre & Co. (best known for employing William Moorcroft a few years later) using maps engraved by the Edinburgh firm of J.G. Bartholomew (JGB). Macintyre produced other paperweights with Bartholomew maps of Central Africa, India, British South Africa and the rarest, Australasia, to a pottery design 9.9cm in diameter, weight 333gm, registered as No.141265. The correspondence shows that the hemispheres came first, and were intended to feature the British Empire worldwide, although that political appellation does not appear.

The sixth edition of Camden’s Britannia was published in 1607 with over fifty county maps printed from engraved plates. It was a pioneering work. In 1611, John Speed published his Theatre of The Empire of Great Britaine, again with over fifty county maps, many of them engraved by Jodocus Hondius from Amsterdam, and with an abridged version of Camden’s text. These books established a model that was followed later in Amsterdam itself in the great atlases of Blaeu and Janssonius. One of the ways Camden sought to augment the authority of his work was by using Anglo-Saxon types in his text for county names and the occasional passage in Anglo-Saxon (Old English). As the practice persisted, the progress of these type-designs is examined in relation to the development of the atlases. While Hondius’ map-making skills were imported to add to the English text, when the English text was brought to Amsterdam to add to the Dutch maps, the Dutch printers had to use their own skills to reproduce the Anglo-Saxon characters.

Although it is commonly asserted that Protestantism bears an intrinsic antagonism toward images, this claim is manifestly, contradicted by a long history of the production and use of images among Protestants the world over. At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, British organizations such as Hannah More’s Cheap Repository and the Religious Tract Society, and a host of tract and Sunday school societies formed in the United States, all made zealous use of illustrated tracts, handbills, broadsides, newspapers, magazines and books in order to address the disparity between the small number of evangelists and the vast number of those requiring evangelization. Founded in 1825, the American Tract Society invested unprecedented sums in materials and technology to illustrate its tracts and children’s literature and attracted the best wood engraver in the United States to do so. British and American tract producers explicitly felt that illustrations were a strong form of appeal to children and the semi-literate, such as immigrants and the poor. And they happily relied on images in urban settings to compete with secular advertisements and the rival trade of books and pamphlet sellers.

We conducted seven experiments in stands of mature lodgepole pine in southern British Columbia to elucidate the role of host volatiles in the semiochemical ecology of the pine engraver, Ips pini (Say) (Coleoptera: Scolytidae), with particular reference to the behavioral responses of predators and competing species of bark beetles. Our results demonstrated that the attraction of Ips pini and the bark beetle predators Lasconotus complex LeConte (Colydiidae), Thanasimus undatulus (Say) (Cleridae) and a Corticeus sp. (Tenebrionidae) were increased by 3-carene. In contrast, attraction of the bark beetle Pityogenes knechteli Swaine (Scolytidae) to ipsdienol was interrupted by 3-carene and α-pinene. Attraction of L. complex to ipsdienol was increased by γ-terpinene, a compound attractive to the mountain pine beetle, Dendroctonus ponderosae Hopkins (Scolytidae). Terpinolene interrupted the attraction of I. pini to ipsdienol.

Buffon added 14 notes contributed by one or both of the Forsters to the sixth supplement of the Histoire Naturelle published in Paris in 1782. All these additions deal with mammals, mainly South African: nine South African antelopes, the spring hare, tame sheep and three antelopes not found at the Cape of Good Hope. The descriptions are compared with the drawings by George Forster in the British Museum (Natural History) and with the Descriptiones Animalium written by J. R. Forster about 1775, but not published until 1844. Buffon included two plates engraved after drawings made by George Forster depicting the klipspringer and spring hare.

The pine engraver, Ips pini (Say), breeds in the phloem tissue of dead, dying, or downed pines, occasionally attacking standing live trees when populations build up to significant levels following logging activities or infestations by the mountain pine beetle, Dendroctonus ponderosae Hopkins (Furniss and Carolin 1980). In British Columbia, I. pini uses ipsdienol as an aggregation pheromone to facilitate large aggregations of mated beetles and breeding galleries (Miller et al. 1996). The aggregation pheromones, exo-brevicomin and cis- and trans-verbenol, used by D. ponderosae (Borden et al. 1987; Miller and Lafontaine 1991) interrupt attraction of I. pini to ipsdienol (Miller 1991). Another semiochemical, frontalin, is used by D. ponderosae as a multifunctional pheromone (Borden et al. 1987), enhancing attraction of beetles at low release rates and interrupting attraction at high release rates. I tested the effect of frontalin, over a broad range of release rates, on the attraction of I. pini to ipsdienol-baited traps.

An Upper Palaeolithic engraving of a female figure has recently been discovered on the base of a naturally hollowed limestone slab possibly used as a bowl or lamp, found in the cave of Courbet (Penne-Tarn, France) and preserved in the British Museum. The slab, decorated on the dished side with linear incisions, and the female figure are described in detail. The occurrence of a female engraving on a utilised slab is found to be unique to date but the relationship of the figure to the support is questioned and discussed. The female engraving is compared with others known from Germany, as well as Quercy and Périgord, France. On the basis of these comparisons and radiocarbon age estimates, the engraved slab is attributed to Magdalenian VI.

This study focuses on the application of a multi-analytical approach combining image processing techniques, imaging studies and material characterisation of a French late fifteen-early sixteen century incunabulum – the BPE, Inc.438. The first study goal was to verify the potential of computational methods in NIR imaging to retrieve accurate reconstructions of the engraving printings by Germain Hardouyn. For this aspect, two representative scenes were chosen: Trinity, f.8r; Saint Anthony the Abbot, f.61v. The applied methodology allowed faster creation of digital reconstructions while the material analysis proved the use of azurite, malachite, vermilion, lead white and ochres, and their NIR response was assessed in the context of the digital processing. The second goal was to make a comparison between chosen illuminations and engraved references of the same representations from two incunabula of the British Library, unravelling the illuminator’s intentional iconographic alteration based on visual and theological criteria.

People have tried to determine their "personality" and "property" rights by using special signs and symbols since ancient times. These symbols are the signs that people who lived together and formed a community in the conditions of that day that they agreed on. One of the human-made tools, on which these special personality and property markers appear are cylinder seals. Different expressions were made besides determining personality and property by means of text and images engraved on cylinder seals. In this research, cylinder seals, which are archaeological artifacts in the island of Cyprus, exhibited in museums and may be subject to the relevant literature were examined. The seals that make up the sample consist of cylinder seals exhibited in Cyprus archaeological museums, in the British Museum, Metropolitan Museum and the Cyprus artifacts sections of the John Hopkins Museum. The cylinder seals used by the communities and governments that have dominated Cyprus in the historical process have been investigated as visual imagery. Therefore, images on cylinder seals produced in Cyprus or neighbouring cultures between 2000 BC and 600 BC were investigated. In this research, the engravings on seals that were produced in neighbouring cultures and brought to Cyprus as a gift or were imported also examined. All figures made on the seals were produced in neighbouring cultures and brought to the island with different methods were also included in the study. In this context, the features of the motif, figure, inscription, decoration and patterns used on 191 cylinder seals obtained during the research process were investigated. As a result of the examination, figures which engraved on the seals was coded in accordance with their themes, all the images engraved on the seals were divided into categories. Six main categories were determined as a result of categorical division. Twenty-seven themes belonging to the identified main six categories were also determined. Among the scrapings on the cylinder seals that constitute the sample of the research; visuals that determine the variety of food production, agriculture, mining, blessing and sacrifice scenes, and demonstrating the scenes of a birthday of the seal owner were encountered. From the pictures drawn on the cave walls, it is known that such special signs or images serving different purposes were used. In this context, the fact that only pictorial images were engraved on some of the cylinder seals reveals the view that they existed before the writing and that the tradition of that period continued on the seal engraving after the writing was found.

During the spring of 1993 Mr Darren Nichols was searching land near Canterbury with his new metal detector when he made a most interesting discovery. At a shallow depth he unearthed a burial, containing a decorated bronze mirror, a bronze brooch, and the remains of a pot holding cremated bone. The mirror was subsequently identified as being of Iron Age date, bearing a characteristic engraved Celtic design on its reverse. Realising the importance of the find, Mr Nichols reported the discovery to local archaeologists who were able to visit the site and re-excavate the find-spot. These investigations produced a second brooch and further sherds from the very fragmented cinerary urn.In July 1994 the metalwork from the burial was passed to Dr Ian Stead of the British Museum for detailed study and recording. A year later the finder sold the mirror and brooches at a Sotheby's auction (Sale LN5398, Lot 3) to a private collector, who has very kindly agreed to details of the objects being published here.

We are pleased to present here a preliminary account of the first discovery of Palaeolithic cave art in Britain.On 14 April 2003 we made the first discovery of Palaeolithic cave art in Britain. Since portable art of the period has long been known in this country (Sieveking 1972; Campbell 1977: vol. 2, figs 102, 105, 143), it has always seemed probable that parietal art must also have existed. We knew that we were most unlikely to discover paintings, since these are generally quite visible; but as far as we knew, nobody with a trained eye and advantageous lighting had combed the British caves in search of engravings, which are often extremely difficult to see. Such was the purpose of our initial survey and, sure enough, we rapidly encountered engraved marks in a number of caves, which we will be investigating more fully and systematically in the near future. At the well-known sites of Creswell Crags, in Derbyshire, we found both figurative and non-figurative engravings of the period. What follows is a brief, preliminary announcement of a discovery soon to be further amplified in print following systematic investigation.

Michał Tyszkiewicz was an outstanding collector of antiquities and a pioneer of Polish archaeological excavations in Egypt conducted in late 1861 and early 1862, which yielded a generous donation of 194 Egyptian antiquities to the Paris Louvre. Today Tyszkiewicz’s name features engraved on the Rotunda of Apollo among the major Museum’s donors. Having settled in Rome for good in 1865, Tyszkiewicz conducted archaeological excavations there until 1870. He collected ancient intaglios, old coins, ceramics, silverware, golden jewellery, and sculptures in bronze and marble. His collection ranked among the most valuable European ones created in the 2nd half of the 19th century. Today, its elements are scattered among over 30 major museums worldwide, e.g. London’s British Museum, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, or the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The latest investigation of M. Tyszkiewicz’s correspondence to the German scholar Wilhelm Froehner demonstrated that Tyszkiewicz widely promoted the development of archaeology and epigraphy; unique pieces from his collections were presented at conferences at Rome’s Academia dei Lincei or at the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres in Paris, and published by Italian, French, Austrian, and German scholars. He was considered an expert in glyptic, and today’s specialists, in recognition of his merits, have called a certain group of ancient cylinder seals the ‘Tyszkiewicz Seals’, an Egyptian statue in black basalt has been named the ‘Tyszkiewicz Statue’, whereas an unknown painter of Greek vases from the 5th century BC has been referred to as the ‘Painter Tyszkiewicz’.

The medium of visual representation played a crucial role in the Enlightenment project of taking intellectual possession of nature, and of dominating it. Pictures helped to categorize the various natural phenomena, to disseminate knowledge about their appearance and, so to speak, to capture them on paper or canvas. From the middle of the eighteenth century onwards, natural historians treating extreme and threatening natural phenomena, such as volcanoes, earthquakes, waterspouts or geysers, increasingly supplemented their written accounts with engraved illustrations. In this paper, I concentrate on the visual treatment of earthquakes in learned publications. I discuss two different types of graphic representation of this natural phenomenon, which had always been considered as virtually ‘undepictable’.After the great earthquake of Lisbon in 1755, research into the subject was greatly stimulated. Two scholars, the British natural philosopher John Michell and the Dutchman Johan Drijfhout, published earthquake treatises in learned journals, and each complemented his text with a diagrammatic illustration. By translating their theoretical considerations into the abstract form of geological sections, these natural philosophers moulded a new visual language for seismology and earth history. An entirely different example of visual representation as a tool in research into earthquakes can be seen in the approach to the earthquake in Calabria in 1783. The Neapolitan Academy of Science and Letters sent some of its members to investigate the devastating effects of this earthquake on the landscape and the nature of the country. The topographical changes were recorded on the spot by trained draughtsmen, with the aim of providing accurate and comprehensive visual documentation. The pictures are remarkable in the way they reveal a conflict between the new demands of modern empirical science and the established ‘picturesque’ conventions of landscape painting.

Being colonized by France, Cocochina (the South of Vietnam) was the region where Western literature was introduced into earlier than the North. Truong Minh Ky was considered the first translator of Western literature in Vietnam. His earliest works of translation appeared in 1884. By the early 20th century, introduced to Vietnamese readers were Western literary works not only of French origin but also of British, American and Russian origins; not only poetry, prose but also drama. In the late 19th century, many writers such as Truong Vinh Ky, Huynh Tinh Cua were interested in Chinese literature. In the first decade of the 20th century, a wide variety of Chinese novels were translated into Vietnamese, forming a strong movement of translating "truyen Tau” (Chinese fictions). The remarkable characteristics of the translation of Western literature in Cochinchina were as follows - The newspapers and magazines in “Quoc Ngu” (Vietnamese language written in Latin characters) where the first works of translation were published played very important role. - The translators were greatly diverse, coming from different social and cultural backgrounds. - More translation was made on prose. Novels of martial arts, historical stories, novels of heroic deeds attracted the attention of the translators and the publishers. Therefore, they were translated much more than romance novels were, because of their compatibility with popular audience. - By translating the works of Western literature, the writers tried to express new concepts of humanism, such as women rights, or gender issues. Translated literature in Cocochina in the late 19th and early 20th centuries reflects a paradox: Western influences started to leave their marks but the Chinese influence was still strongly engraved. However, this was a remarkable step in the journey of modernization of national literature. Through these early translated works, new literary genres were introduced and Vietnamese readers gradually became familiar with them. Translation experiences were the first steps for Cocochina writers to achieve thorough understanding, to learn Western writing techniques and styles, which helped them become the pioneers of new literature in Vietnam.

BM ME 124945–6, a relief of Assurbanipal, was discovered in the ruins of Room M (the so-called ‘Throne Room’) of the North Palace in the Assyrian capital of Nineveh, and is now on display in the British Museum (Fig. 1). The slabs are divided into two registers: an upper register and a lower register, which are separated by a broad wavy band, each side of which forms the bank of a river. Two rivers flow horizontally in parallel in the centre of the slabs. The presentation scene appears in the lower register, which shows the Assyrian king Assurbanipal (668–631 BC) reviewing war spoils taken from Babylon after the city was captured by the Assyrian army in late 648 BC. The aim of this paper is to examine the spoils represented on the relief and, by carefully analysing Assurbanipal's inscriptions, to clarify how textual accounts of the event or events are reflected in the narrative scheme of the composition.The presentation scene is further divided into three rows by simple horizontal lines, each forming a ground line that normally indicates the recession of space based on the principle of “vertical perspective” in which distant figures are placed higher than nearer ones. The king is represented on the right of the scene, occupying the upper and middle rows (Fig. 2). He is mounted on a chariot and is accompanied by courtiers and soldiers who all face to the left of the scene. An epigraph is engraved above the horses of the king's chariot. On the far side of the scene, Assyrian soldiers, in the upper row, proceed towards the king. The first person is a eunuch raising his right hand; he is followed by a bearded man (Fig. 3). Then there are three soldiers, each holding a particular item of booty (Fig. 4). These men are followed by two wheeled vehicles: one is carried on the shoulders of several men (Fig. 5) and the other pulled by a group of soldiers (Fig. 6). To the far left of the scene, prisoners are led away by soldiers. In the middle row, four foreigners face right (Fig. 7), and behind them stand two scribes making a record in front of one pile of bows and quivers and another of severed heads (Fig. 8). More soldiers follow from the left with a team of horses. The lower row shows a procession of prisoners; all of them move from left to right (Fig. 9). To the far left, there are two sets of chariots, the horses of which are being led by soldiers (Figs. 10 and 11). The overall composition, except for the lower row, is arranged symmetrically facing to the centre, with special emphasis on the king.

Sylvia Townsend Warner’s 1958 poetry collection Boxwood is an unusual book with an unusual genesis. This article examines how Warner and her neighbour, the wood engraver Reynolds Stone, collaborated on the project. It explores Warner’s meditations on rural life, storytelling and human mortality in the wider contexts of her own poetry and the history of British wood engraving.

Presenting research conducted by the ‘St Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster’ project at the University of York, this article focuses on the Great Seal devised in 1649 and re-issued in 1651 to enable the Commonwealth to function following the execution of Charles i. As a familiar and ancient image of monarchy, the Great Seal posed an obvious challenge to the authority of the Rump Parliament. A radical new design, authorised by parliamentary committee and executed by engraver Thomas Simon, replaced royal iconography with images of popular sovereignty and nationhood: a map of England and Ireland on the obverse of the Seal, and the interior of the House of Commons chamber (formerly St Stephen’s Chapel) on the reverse. The result was a striking evocation of political authority located in the House of Commons and deriving from the English people. Engravings of the Commons chamber, in circulation since the 1620s, are identified as a probable source for Simon’s work. The Great Seal also re-asserted England’s dominion over Ireland and the waters surrounding the British Isles. Overall, this article argues for continuity as well as alteration in the iconography of the Great Seal of England, at a time of revolutionary political change.

To the unrefined or under-bred person, the visiting-card is but a trifling and insignificant piece of paper; but to the cultured disciple of social law it conveys a subtle and unmistakable intelligence. Its texture, style of engraving, and even the hour of leaving it, combine to place the stranger whose name it bears in a pleasant or disagreeable attitude, even before his manners, conversation, and face have been able to explain his social position (1920 etiquette manual quoted in Curtin 138). There’s a scene in the ‘90s TV series Ab Fab where Eddy, stumbling from her car, fresh from Harvey Nicks and tipsy on Bolly, shouts into her mobile ‘it’s ok Bubbles, I’m coming into the office now’ as she enters the office. When it first aired this was a wry comment on the vacuous, superfluous nature of new communication technologies. Now, it’s like ‘so what?’ Why not attempt to convey constantly the banal minutiae of the every day? Indeed, what troubles the technological verisimilitude is not that Eddy desires absolute proximity but that she’s not texting. In these days of ‘intensive propinquity’ (Kang 2002), however, it is easy to overlook the fact that telepresence—text’s uncanny power to stand in for the corporeal body—has a long history. Indeed, one such precursor to today’s technologies of telepresence would undoubtedly appeal to Eddy and Pats. In this paper, I want to consider the extent to which the British eighteenth-century visiting card conceptually, culturally and materially anticipates a range of contemporary technologies of propinquity. Acting as complex cultural avatars, these visiting cards conveyed the desires of class and gender in the construction of identity. The British pictorial visiting card of the early eighteenth century developed from the practice of using playing cards as visiting cards, the caller’s name being inscribed on the back of the playing card. In the mid eighteenth century the custom of using playing cards as visiting cards was replaced by cards manufactured for the express purpose of notifying those with whom one wished to make contact. At first these cards, printed on ‘stout paper or thin card’, were relatively plain, except for ‘an ornamental frame of tasteful design’ that surrounded the edge thus leaving the centre blank so that the caller could write their name. Soon, however, visiting cards were being printed with illustrations. These cards commonly left room for a short message in addition to the caller’s name (Staff 10). By the latter part of the eighteenth century, most visiting cards carried elaborate designs which varied according to the taste, hobbies or professional interests of the intended consumers. For those connected to the military, for example, there were cards illustrated with swords, cannons, flags or a person in uniform was depicted. Cards left by recent callers were commonly displayed in special receptacles on mantelpieces or small tables so that visitors ‘had a chance to see whom the family numbered among its social circle and be suitably impressed’ (Pool 66). At the close of the eighteenth century, the highly illustrated visiting card gave way to an understated and smaller format. No longer pictorial, visiting cards of the nineteenth-century, as Maurice Rickards notes, were ‘reticent’ in style and ‘espoused sobriety’ in typography and design. Victorian culture took seriously the materialities of visiting card practice as the exchange and expression of symbolic capital. As Rickards explains: In Britain, the etiquette of typographic style and layout was rigorously observed: the wording was engraved; printing was in black, card colour was white. A man’s town address appeared in the lower left-hand corner, his club on the right …. Unmarried daughters living at home did not have cards of their own. They appeared compendiously on their mother's cards (351). Visiting cards demonstrate the rich prehistory of contemporary technologies of telepresence in terms of the imaginative, symbolic and rhetorical functions they performed. Telepresence can be defined as the degree to which geographically dispersed agents experience a sense of physical and/or psychological proximity through the use of particular communication technologies. Like many of the media forms they anticipate, visiting cards were used to stand in for the corporeal presence of their author. As a late nineteenth-century etiquette manual explained: ‘the stress laid by Society upon the correct usage of these magic bits of paste-board, will not seem unnecessary, when it is remembered that the visiting card … frequently is made to take the place of one’s self’ (quoted in Davidoff 42). Visiting cards functioned as avatars of presence and identity, a complex language system which allowed the discursive agents to mediate social relations according to the varying degrees of intimacy that were desired. As long as all parties could read the codes and conventions, the level of acquaintanceship could be increased, maintained or decreased. For example, if one wanted to ‘put an end to an unsatisfactory acquaintanceship’, help was, literally, at hand. Instead of the ‘intolerable’ practice of ‘cutting’ – the procedure of pointedly refusing to recognise a person with whom one formerly had been in close contact – one would slowly reduce the time spent calling to the minimum length required. ‘After this’, advises an 1897 guide called Manners for Men, the gentleman ‘may leave cards once more without asking if the ladies of the family are at home. In this way he can gradually and with perfect courtesy break off the intimacy’ (quoted in Curtin 144). But communication might sometimes break down inadvertently. A participant’s failure to interpret the signs correctly could have unpleasant consequences. Because of this, etiquette manuals warned that servants be instructed on how to observe the difference between calling and card leaving. The intricacy inherent in the semiotics of ‘speaking by the card’ is demonstrated by the role servants were expected to play. Protocol demanded that a call was answered with a call and a card by a card. Returning a call with a card could be interpreted as a snub. In some cases that was the intention of one of the participants; leaving a card instead of calling in person was an easily understood gesture intended to scale down a particular acquaintanceship. However, it might just be a mistake. One of the many complications adhering to the practice of calling and leaving cards was that one could not assume the person to whom a card belonged had, in fact, ‘called’ upon one. As Michael Curtin explains: In practice, cards very often substituted for calls since the person receiving the call was not at home. In this case, a card equalled a call, though there was a complication. Since … cards were delivered in person, one who meant to leave cards was easily confused with another who called but merely left cards because no one was at home (141). The first problem, then, is how the caller deploys the card and how the receiver interprets this action; to what degree does the card stand for the physical presence of the caller? Even in the pre-Barthesian era, authorial intention was problematic: did the caller intend to see the person on whom they called or did the card stand for a less intimate mode of communication? Further complicating matters were the servants. Unlike Wilkie Collins’ depiction of a passive and neutral butler bearing a visiting card—‘waiting not like a human being who took an interest in the proceedings but … like an article of furniture’ (85)—many etiquette manuals warned that servants were actively involved in the chain of communication. Servants, as Curtin outlines, often went to call in place of their ‘mistresses’ and ‘therefore should be exactly instructed as to their mistress’s wishes, whether to call or to leave a card’. Likewise, ‘those servants who answered the door should be made to understand this distinction, to inquire into the caller’s intention’ and record this in writing (141). Visiting cards reproduced divisions of class by regulating the public and the private. The finely nuanced signifying system of these cards addressed only middle-class and aristocratic participants. For the middle classes and the aristocracy, privacy was the inherited right which visiting cards sought to protect. Those of the working class, as Davidoff argues, had to accept that their homes could be entered at any time by members of the ‘superior’ class, who would walk in and ‘at once become involved in the life of the family by asking questions, dispensing charity or giving orders’ (46). If the visiting card was significant as a medium of telepresence, enabling subjects to imagine, desire, fear or forestall each other’s presence, in 1854 this function was enhanced with the addition of a photographic image. The carte-de-visite reworked and conflated the technical, formal and social uses of both portraiture and the visiting card. Distinguished from the older types of visiting card by being smaller in dimension, usually measuring 4½ x 2½ inches, the carte-de-visite also carried a photographic print which was affixed to the cardboard of which it was made. Mediating the performance of identity in new ways, cards now visually depicted their bearers: Thus for a ceremonial visit, the print would represent the visitor with his hands imprisoned in spotless gloves, his head slightly inclined, as for a greeting, his hat resting graciously on his right thigh. According to etiquette, if the weather were bad, an umbrella faithfully reproduced under the arm of a visitor would eloquently declare the merit of his walk (quoted in McCauley 28). The role played by the carte-de-visite in the performance of gender is emphasised by an 1862 article on ‘flirting’ which warned that a woman would be so branded ‘if she be lavish in the distribution of her carte-de-visite’ (‘Flirts’ 163). The carte-de-visite was also an important element in the production of celebrity and the emerging commodity culture. While functioning as a visiting card, the particular topics and scenes represented on the carte-de-visite meant that it became a popular object to collect and display. Often depicting royalty, politicians or military leaders, this new mode of portraiture, as an 1862 newspaper put it, made ‘the public thoroughly acquainted with all its remarkable men’ to the extent that ‘we know their personality long before we see them’ (Wynter 673). The carte-de-visite familiarised the famous and made famous the familiar: The commercial value of the human face was never tested to such an extent as it is at the present moment in these handy photographs. No man, or woman either knows but that some accident may elevate them to the position of the hero of the hour (Wynter 673). Although invented to modernise the existing visiting card, the carte-de-visite neither replaced the older version nor was it used solely for calling. For the bourgeoisie, argues McCauley, the carte-de-visite album became a ‘faddish parlour amusement’ (48). As an enabler of telepresence, the carte-de-visite seemed to promise future generations an intimate knowledge of their distant ancestors. It would collapse time, bringing history into the present. As one nineteenth century journalist remarked, ‘it is very pleasing to have one’s relatives and acquaintances reunited in an album … you converse with them, it seems as if they were there beside you’ (quoted in McCauley 48). In general, the literature on presence, virtual presence and telepresence limits its historiography to an examination of electronic media (for example, Goldberg, Sconce, and Sobchack). As this paper has suggested, what’s needed is research that focuses on those forms of analogue textual culture that, functioning as avatars of corporeality and presence, might be regarded as fabulous. Works Cited Kang, Kathy. ‘Intensive Propinquity and ::fc:: Style’, paper delivered at the Fibreculture Conference, November 22 - 24, Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney, 2002. Collins, Wilkie. The New Magdalen. 1873. Gloucestershire, UK: Sutton, 1995. Curtin, Michael. Propriety and Position: A Study of Victorian Manners, London: Garland, 1987. Davidoff, Leonore. The Best Circles: Society, Etiquette and the Season, London: Croom, 1973. ‘Flirts,’ The Living Age. 74 (1862). Goldberg, Ken, ed. The Robot in the Garden: Telerobotics and Telepistemology in the Age of the Internet, Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 2000. McCauley, Elizabeth Anne, A. A. E. Disderi and the Carte de Visite Portrait Photograph, New Haven: Yale U P, 1985. Pool, Daniel. What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to Whist: The Facts of Daily Life in Nineteenth-Century, New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993. Rickards, Maurice. The Encyclopedia of Ephemera: A Guide to the Fragmentary Documents of Everyday Life for the Collector, Curator, and Historian, ed. Michael Twyman, New York: Routledge, 2000. Sconce, Jeffrey. Haunted Media: Electronic Presence from Telegraphy to Television, Durham: Duke UP, 2000. Sobchack, Vivian. ‘The Scene of the Screen: Envisioning Cinematic and Electronic “Presence”’. Materialities of Communication. Ed. Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht and K. Ludwig Pfeiffer, trans. William Whobrey. Stanford: Stanford U P. 83 - 106. Staff, Frank. The Picture Postcard and its Origins, London: Lutterworth, 1979. Wynter A. ‘Cartes De Visite,’ The Living Age. 72 (1862). Citation reference for this article MLA Style Milne, Esther. "‘Magic Bits of Paste-board’" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/02-milne.php>. APA Style Milne, E. (2004, Jan 12). ‘Magic Bits of Paste-board’. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 7, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/02-milne.php>

This article investigates the prosthesis of identity through the process of branding. It examines cross-cultural manifestations of this phenomena from sixth millennium BCE Syria to twelfth century Japan and Britain. From the Neolithic Era, humanity has sort to extend their identities using pictorial signs that were characteristically simple. Designed to be distinctive and instantly recognisable, the totemic symbols served to signal the origin of the bearer. Subsequently, the development of branding coincided with periods of increased in mobility both in respect to geography and social strata. This includes fifth millennium Mesopotamia, nineteenth century Britain, and America during the 1920s.There are fewer articles of greater influence on contemporary culture than A Theory of Human Motivation written by Abraham Maslow in 1943. Nearly seventy-five years later, his theories about the societal need for “belongingness” and “esteem” remain a mainstay of advertising campaigns (Maslow). Although the principles are used to sell a broad range of products from shampoo to breakfast cereal they are epitomised by apparel. This is with refence to garments and accessories bearing corporation logos. Whereas other purchased items, imbued with abstract products, are intended for personal consumption the public display of these symbols may be interpreted as a form of signalling. The intention of the wearers is to literally seek the fulfilment of the aforementioned social needs. This article investigates the use of brands as prosthesis.Coats and Crests: Identity Garnered on Garments in the Middle Ages and the Muromachi PeriodA logo, at its most basic, is a pictorial sign. In his essay, The Visual Language, Ernest Gombrich described the principle as reducing images to “distinctive features” (Gombrich 46). They represent a “simplification of code,” the meaning of which we are conditioned to recognise (Gombrich 46). Logos may also be interpreted as a manifestation of totemism. According to anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, the principle exists in all civilisations and reflects an effort to evoke the power of nature (71-127). Totemism is also a method of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166).This principle, in a form garnered on garments, is manifested in Mon Kiri. The practice of cutting out family crests evolved into a form of corporate branding in Japan during the Meiji Period (1868-1912) (Christensen 14). During the Muromachi period (1336-1573) the crests provided an integral means of identification on the battlefield (Christensen 13). The adorning of crests on armour was also exercised in Europe during the twelfth century, when the faces of knights were similarly obscured by helmets (Family Crests of Japan 8). Both Mon Kiri and “Coat[s] of Arms” utilised totemic symbols (Family Crests of Japan 8; Elven 14; Christensen 13). The mon for the imperial family (figs. 1 & 2) during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia flowers (Goin’ Japaneque). “Coat[s] of Arms” in Britain featured a menagerie of animals including lions (fig. 3), horses and eagles (Elven).The prothesis of identity through garnering symbols on the battlefield provided “safety” through demonstrating “belongingness”. This constituted a conflation of two separate “needs” in the “hierarchy of prepotency” propositioned by Maslow. Fig. 1. The mon symbolising the Imperial Family during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia. "Kamon (Japanese Family Crests): Ancient Key to Samurai Culture." Goin' Japaneque! 15 Nov. 2015. 27 July 2019 <http://goinjapanesque.com/05983/>.Fig. 2. An example of the crest being utilised on a garment can be found in this portrait of samurai Oda Nobunaga. "Japan's 12 Most Famous Samurai." All About Japan. 27 Aug. 2018. 27 July 2019 <https://allabout-japan.com/en/article/5818/>.Fig. 3. A detail from the “Index of Subjects of Crests.” Elven, John Peter. The Book of Family Crests: Comprising Nearly Every Family Bearing, Properly Blazoned and Explained, Accompanied by Upwards of Four Thousand Engravings. Henry Washbourne, 1847.The Pursuit of Prestige: Prosthetic Pedigree from the Late Georgian to the Victorian Eras In 1817, the seal engraver to Prince Regent, Alexander Deuchar, described the function of family crests in British Crests: Containing The Crest and Mottos of The Families of Great Britain and Ireland; Together with Those of The Principal Cities and Heraldic Terms as follows: The first approach to civilization is the distinction of ranks. So necessary is this to the welfare and existence of society, that, without it, anarchy and confusion must prevail… In an early stage, heraldic emblems were characteristic of the bearer… Certain ordinances were made, regulating the mode of bearing arms, and who were entitled to bear them. (i-v)The partitioning of social classes in Britain had deteriorated by the time this compendium was published, with displays of “conspicuous consumption” displacing “heraldic emblems” as a primary method of status signalling (Deuchar 2; Han et al. 18). A consumerism born of newfound affluence, and the desire to signify this wealth through luxury goods, was as integral to the Industrial Revolution as technological development. In Rebels against the Future, published in 1996, Kirkpatrick Sale described the phenomenon:A substantial part of the new population, though still a distinct minority, was made modestly affluent, in some places quite wealthy, by privatization of of the countryside and the industrialization of the cities, and by the sorts of commercial and other services that this called forth. The new money stimulated the consumer demand… that allowed a market economy of a scope not known before. (40)This also reflected improvements in the provision of “health, food [and] education” (Maslow; Snow 25-28). With their “physiological needs” accommodated, this ”substantial part” of the population were able to prioritised their “esteem needs” including the pursuit for prestige (Sale 40; Maslow).In Britain during the Middle Ages laws “specified in minute detail” what each class was permitted to wear (Han et al. 15). A groom, for example, was not able to wear clothing that exceeded two marks in value (Han et al. 15). In a distinct departure during the Industrial Era, it was common for the “middling and lower classes” to “ape” the “fashionable vices of their superiors” (Sale 41). Although mon-like labels that were “simplified so as to be conspicuous and instantly recognisable” emerged in Europe during the nineteenth century their application on garments remained discrete up until the early twentieth century (Christensen 13-14; Moore and Reid 24). During the 1920s, the French companies Hermes and Coco Chanel were amongst the clothing manufacturers to pioneer this principle (Chaney; Icon).During the 1860s, Lincolnshire-born Charles Frederick Worth affixed gold stamped labels to the insides of his garments (Polan et al. 9; Press). Operating from Paris, the innovation was consistent with the introduction of trademark laws in France in 1857 (Lopes et al.). He would become known as the “Father of Haute Couture”, creating dresses for royalty and celebrities including Empress Eugene from Constantinople, French actress Sarah Bernhardt and Australian Opera Singer Nellie Melba (Lopes et al.; Krick). The clothing labels proved and ineffective deterrent to counterfeit, and by the 1890s the House of Worth implemented other measures to authenticate their products (Press). The legitimisation of the origin of a product is, arguably, the primary function of branding. This principle is also applicable to subjects. The prothesis of brands, as totemic symbols, assisted consumers to relocate themselves within a new system of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166). It was one born of commerce as opposed to heraldry.Selling of Self: Conferring Identity from the Neolithic to Modern ErasIn his 1817 compendium on family crests, Deuchar elaborated on heraldry by writing:Ignoble birth was considered as a stain almost indelible… Illustrious parentage, on the other hand, constituted the very basis of honour: it communicated peculiar rights and privileges, to which the meaner born man might not aspire. (v-vi)The Twinings Logo (fig. 4) has remained unchanged since the design was commissioned by the grandson of the company founder Richard Twining in 1787 (Twining). In addition to reflecting the heritage of the family-owned company, the brand indicated the origin of the tea. This became pertinent during the nineteenth century. Plantations began to operate from Assam to Ceylon (Jones 267-269). Amidst the rampant diversification of tea sources in the Victorian era, concerns about the “unhygienic practices” of Chinese producers were proliferated (Wengrow 11). Subsequently, the brand also offered consumers assurance in quality. Fig. 4. The Twinings Logo reproduced from "History of Twinings." Twinings. 24 July 2019 <https://www.twinings.co.uk/about-twinings/history-of-twinings>.The term ‘brand’, adapted from the Norse “brandr”, was introduced into the English language during the sixteenth century (Starcevic 179). At its most literal, it translates as to “burn down” (Starcevic 179). Using hot elements to singe markings onto animals been recorded as early as 2700 BCE in Egypt (Starcevic 182). However, archaeologists concur that the modern principle of branding predates this practice. The implementation of carved seals or stamps to make indelible impressions of handcrafted objects dates back to Prehistoric Mesopotamia (Starcevic 183; Wengrow 13). Similar traditions developed during the Bronze Age in both China and the Indus Valley (Starcevic 185). In all three civilisations branding facilitated both commerce and aspects of Totemism. In the sixth millennium BCE in “Prehistoric” Mesopotamia, referred to as the Halaf period, stone seals were carved to emulate organic form such as animal teeth (Wengrow 13-14). They were used to safeguard objects by “confer[ring] part of the bearer’s personality” (Wengrow 14). They were concurrently applied to secure the contents of vessels containing “exotic goods” used in transactions (Wengrow 15). Worn as amulets (figs. 5 & 6) the seals, and the symbols they produced, were a physical extension of their owners (Wengrow 14).Fig. 5. Recreation of stamp seal amulets from Neolithic Mesopotamia during the sixth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49.1 (2008): 14.Fig. 6. “Lot 25Y: Rare Syrian Steatite Amulet – Fertility God 5000 BCE.” The Salesroom. 27 July 2019 <https://www.the-saleroom.com/en-gb/auction-catalogues/artemis-gallery-ancient-art/catalogue-id-srartem10006/lot-a850d229-a303-4bae-b68c-a6130005c48a>. Fig. 7. Recreation of stamp seal designs from Mesopotamia from the late fifth to fourth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49. 1 (2008): 16.In the following millennia, the seals would increase exponentially in application and aesthetic complexity (fig. 7) to support the development of household cum cottage industries (Wengrow 15). In addition to handcrafts, sealed vessels would transport consumables such as wine, aromatic oils and animal fats (Wengrow 18). The illustrations on the seals included depictions of rituals undertaken by human figures and/or allegories using animals. It can be ascertained that the transition in the Victorian Era from heraldry to commerce, from family to corporation, had precedence. By extension, consumers were able to participate in this process of value attribution using brands as signifiers. The principle remained prevalent during the modern and post-modern eras and can be respectively interpreted using structuralist and post-structuralist theory.Totemism to Simulacrum: The Evolution of Advertising from the Modern to Post-Modern Eras In 2011, Lisa Chaney wrote of the inception of the Coco Chanel logo (fig. 8) in her biography Chanel: An Intimate Life: A crucial element in the signature design of the Chanel No.5 bottle is the small black ‘C’ within a black circle set as the seal at the neck. On the top of the lid are two more ‘C’s, intertwined back to back… from at least 1924, the No5 bottles sported the unmistakable logo… these two ‘C’s referred to Gabrielle, – in other words Coco Chanel herself, and would become the logo for the House of Chanel. Chaney continued by describing Chanel’s fascination of totemic symbols as expressed through her use of tarot cards. She also “surrounded herself with objects ripe with meaning” such as representations of wheat and lions in reference prosperity and to her zodiac symbol ‘Leo’ respectively. Fig. 8. No5 Chanel Perfume, released in 1924, featured a seal-like logo attached to the bottle neck. “No5.” Chanel. 25 July 2019 <https://www.chanel.com/us/fragrance/p/120450/n5-parfum-grand-extrait/>.Fig. 9. This illustration of the bottle by Georges Goursat was published in a women’s magazine circa 1920s. “1921 Chanel No5.” Inside Chanel. 26 July 2019 <http://inside.chanel.com/en/timeline/1921_no5>; “La 4éme Fête de l’Histoire Samedi 16 et dimache 17 juin.” Ville de Perigueux. Musée d’art et d’archéologie du Périgord. 28 Mar. 2018. 26 July 2019 <https://www.perigueux-maap.fr/category/archives/page/5/>. This product was considered the “financial basis” of the Chanel “empire” which emerged during the second and third decades of the twentieth century (Tikkanen). Chanel is credited for revolutionising Haute Couture by introducing chic modern designs that emphasised “simplicity and comfort.” This was as opposed to the corseted highly embellished fashion that characterised the Victorian Era (Tikkanen). The lavish designs released by the House of Worth were, in and of themselves, “conspicuous” displays of “consumption” (Veblen 17). In contrast, the prestige and status associated with the “poor girl” look introduced by Chanel was invested in the story of the designer (Tikkanen). A primary example is her marinière or sailor’s blouse with a Breton stripe that epitomised her ascension from café singer to couturier (Tikkanen; Burstein 8). This signifier might have gone unobserved by less discerning consumers of fashion if it were not for branding. Not unlike the Prehistoric Mesopotamians, this iteration of branding is a process which “confer[s]” the “personality” of the designer into the garment (Wengrow 13 -14). The wearer of the garment is, in turn, is imbued by extension. Advertisers in the post-structuralist era embraced Levi-Strauss’s structuralist anthropological theories (Williamson 50). This is with particular reference to “bricolage” or the “preconditioning” of totemic symbols (Williamson 173; Pool 50). Subsequently, advertising creatives cum “bricoleur” employed his principles to imbue the brands with symbolic power. This symbolic capital was, arguably, transferable to the product and, ultimately, to its consumer (Williamson 173).Post-structuralist and semiotician Jean Baudrillard “exhaustively” critiqued brands and the advertising, or simulacrum, that embellished them between the late 1960s and early 1980s (Wengrow 10-11). In Simulacra and Simulation he wrote,it is the reflection of a profound reality; it masks and denatures a profound reality; it masks the absence of a profound reality; it has no relation to any reality whatsoever: it is its own pure simulacrum. (6)The symbolic power of the Chanel brand resonates in the ‘profound reality’ of her story. It is efficiently ‘denatured’ through becoming simplified, conspicuous and instantly recognisable. It is, as a logo, physically juxtaposed as simulacra onto apparel. This simulacrum, in turn, effects the ‘profound reality’ of the consumer. In 1899, economist Thorstein Veblen wrote in The Theory of the Leisure Class:Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods it the means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure… costly entertainments, such as potlatch or the ball, are peculiarly adapted to serve this end… he consumes vicariously for his host at the same time that he is witness to the consumption… he is also made to witness his host’s facility in etiquette. (47)Therefore, according to Veblen, it was the witnessing of “wasteful” consumption that “confers status” as opposed the primary conspicuous act (Han et al. 18). Despite television being in its experimental infancy advertising was at “the height of its powers” during the 1920s (Clark et al. 18; Hill 30). Post-World War I consumers, in America, experienced an unaccustomed level of prosperity and were unsuspecting of the motives of the newly formed advertising agencies (Clark et al. 18). Subsequently, the ‘witnessing’ of consumption could be constructed across a plethora of media from the newly emerged commercial radio to billboards (Hill viii–25). The resulting ‘status’ was ‘conferred’ onto brand logos. Women’s magazines, with a legacy dating back to 1828, were a primary locus (Hill 10).Belonging in a Post-Structuralist WorldIt is significant to note that, in a post-structuralist world, consumers do not exclusively seek upward mobility in their selection of brands. The establishment of counter-culture icon Levi-Strauss and Co. was concurrent to the emergence of both The House of Worth and Coco Chanel. The Bavarian-born Levi Strauss commenced selling apparel in San Francisco in 1853 (Levi’s). Two decades later, in partnership with Nevada born tailor Jacob Davis, he patented the “riveted-for-strength” workwear using blue denim (Levi’s). Although the ontology of ‘jeans’ is contested, references to “Jene Fustyan” date back the sixteenth century (Snyder 139). It involved the combining cotton, wool and linen to create “vestments” for Geonese sailors (Snyder 138). The Two Horse Logo (fig. 10), depicting them unable to pull apart a pair of jeans to symbolise strength, has been in continuous use by Levi Strauss & Co. company since its design in 1886 (Levi’s). Fig. 10. The Two Horse Logo by Levi Strauss & Co. has been in continuous use since 1886. Staff Unzipped. "Two Horses. One Message." Heritage. Levi Strauss & Co. 1 July 2011. 25 July 2019 <https://www.levistrauss.com/2011/07/01/two-horses-many-versions-one-message/>.The “rugged wear” would become the favoured apparel amongst miners at American Gold Rush (Muthu 6). Subsequently, between the 1930s – 1960s Hollywood films cultivated jeans as a symbol of “defiance” from Stage Coach staring John Wayne in 1939 to Rebel without A Cause staring James Dean in 1955 (Muthu 6; Edgar). Consequently, during the 1960s college students protesting in America (fig. 11) against the draft chose the attire to symbolise their solidarity with the working class (Hedarty). Notwithstanding a 1990s fashion revision of denim into a diversity of garments ranging from jackets to skirts, jeans have remained a wardrobe mainstay for the past half century (Hedarty; Muthu 10). Fig. 11. Although the brand label is not visible, jeans as initially introduced to the American Goldfields in the nineteenth century by Levi Strauss & Co. were cultivated as a symbol of defiance from the 1930s – 1960s. It documents an anti-war protest that occurred at the Pentagon in 1967. Cox, Savannah. "The Anti-Vietnam War Movement." ATI. 14 Dec. 2016. 16 July 2019 <https://allthatsinteresting.com/vietnam-war-protests#7>.In 2003, the journal Science published an article “Does Rejection Hurt? An Fmri Study of Social Exclusion” (Eisenberger et al.). The cross-institutional study demonstrated that the neurological reaction to rejection is indistinguishable to physical pain. Whereas during the 1940s Maslow classified the desire for “belonging” as secondary to “physiological needs,” early twenty-first century psychologists would suggest “[social] acceptance is a mechanism for survival” (Weir 50). In Simulacra and Simulation, Jean Baudrillard wrote: Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal… (1)In the intervening thirty-eight years since this document was published the artifice of our interactions has increased exponentially. In order to locate ‘belongness’ in this hyperreality, the identities of the seekers require a level of encoding. Brands, as signifiers, provide a vehicle.Whereas in Prehistoric Mesopotamia carved seals, worn as amulets, were used to extend the identity of a person, in post-digital China WeChat QR codes (fig. 12), stored in mobile phones, are used to facilitate transactions from exchanging contact details to commerce. Like other totems, they provide access to information such as locations, preferences, beliefs, marital status and financial circumstances. These individualised brands are the most recent incarnation of a technology that has developed over the past eight thousand years. The intermediary iteration, emblems affixed to garments, has remained prevalent since the twelfth century. Their continued salience is due to their visibility and, subsequent, accessibility as signifiers. Fig. 12. It may be posited that Wechat QR codes are a form individualised branding. Like other totems, they store information pertaining to the owner’s location, beliefs, preferences, marital status and financial circumstances. “Join Wechat groups using QR code on 2019.” Techwebsites. 26 July 2019 <https://techwebsites.net/join-wechat-group-qr-code/>.Fig. 13. Brands function effectively as signifiers is due to the international distribution of multinational corporations. This is the shopfront of Chanel in Dubai, which offers customers apparel bearing consistent insignia as the Parisian outlet at on Rue Cambon. Customers of Chanel can signify to each other with the confidence that their products will be recognised. “Chanel.” The Dubai Mall. 26 July 2019 <https://thedubaimall.com/en/shop/chanel>.Navigating a post-structuralist world of increasing mobility necessitates a rudimental understanding of these symbols. Whereas in the nineteenth century status was conveyed through consumption and witnessing consumption, from the twentieth century onwards the garnering of brands made this transaction immediate (Veblen 47; Han et al. 18). The bricolage of the brands is constructed by bricoleurs working in any number of contemporary creative fields such as advertising, filmmaking or song writing. They provide a system by which individuals can convey and recognise identities at prima facie. They enable the prosthesis of identity.ReferencesBaudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. United States: University of Michigan Press, 1994.Burstein, Jessica. Cold Modernism: Literature, Fashion, Art. United States: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012.Chaney, Lisa. Chanel: An Intimate Life. United Kingdom: Penguin Books Limited, 2011.Christensen, J.A. Cut-Art: An Introduction to Chung-Hua and Kiri-E. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1989. Clark, Eddie M., Timothy C. 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