Journal articles on the topic 'Carlson Architects'

The phenomenon of participatory architectural design is thought to have emerged in the late 1960s and 1970s in Europe. In 1969, Giancarlo De Carlo, one of its main advocates, presented a manifesto in which he asserted that ‘architecture is too important to be left to architects’, criticised architectural practice as a relationship of ‘the intrinsic aggressiveness of architecture and the forced passivity of the user’, and called for establishing ‘a condition of creative and decisional equivalence’ between the architect and the user, so that in fact both the architect and the user take on the architect’s role. He also argued for the ‘discovery of users’ needs’ and envisioned the process of designing as planning ‘with’ the users instead of planning ‘for’ the users.1 In the same year, De Carlo began working on a housing estate in Terni, Italy that involved future dwellers in design decisions. Among other participatory projects carried out around that time were Lucien Kroll’s medical faculty building for the University de Louvain (1970–6) and Ottaker Uhl‘s Fesstgasse Housing, a multi-storey apartment block in Vienna (1979).

The participation of the marchese Orazio Spada (1613-87) in the design of his family chapel (1663-79) in the Chiesa Nuova has recently been acknowledged, but much remains to be said about the character of his patronage and his activity as an amateur architect. The marchese's approach to building was shaped by his family experience and was probably most profoundly influenced by the example of his uncle, Virgilio Spada, architectural advisor to a succession of popes. That Orazio's taste was more conservative than that of his uncle is demonstrated by a series of heretofore unpublished villa designs attributable to the marchese that demonstrate his preference for the classicism of Renaissance models. Some of these designs are based directly on the works of Andrea Palladio. Similarly, the plan and elevation of the main oval body of the Spada Chapel is an almost exact copy of Vignola's Sant'Anna de' Palafrenieri. The fidelity with which he follows this Renaissance model suggests that the marchese was partly responsible for the basic design, along with the professional architects who worked on the project, Camillo Arcucci (to 1667) and his successor, Carlo Rainaldi.

In this article, I present a newly discovered, late-sixteenth-century design drawing for the chapel of the Collegio Borromeo, in Pavia, Italy, and investigate it in the context of contemporary Catholic ecclesiastical architecture. Historiographically, the period is dominated by the church of the Gesù, in Rome, interpreted as a typological paradigm characterized by austere architecture and restrained decoration. This view is called into question by the Collegio's chapel. The initial design (represented by the drawing) drew from ancient sources in order to achieve spatial complexity. The realized chapel is spatially simpler, but ornately ornamented and decorated. The chapel differs from what is considered the norm, but is the chapel an anomaly, or are traditional understandings of the Gesù invalid? On investigation, it becomes evident that patrons may have established a number of criteria for their churches, but architects had a degree of freedom in designing them. In few if any contemporary cases, however, was architectural severity a goal for Catholic churches. With the example of the Collegio's chapel, these findings take on greater significance: the patron, Carlo Borromeo (1538-1584), was one of the most important in the history of ecclesiastical architecture. The chapel's architect, Pellegrino Tibaldi (1527-1596), restored, renovated, and built numerous sacred spaces for Borromeo. What they achieved demonstrates that Catholic reformers of the latter half of the sixteenth century sought architectural magnificence for buildings dedicated to the worship of God.

AbstractThe architecture of Spain of the 1920s and 1930s remains a little studied aspect of the emergence of the modern movement. In 1926 –1931 the architects Carlos Arniches and Martín Domínguez, both prominent members of the so called ›Generación del 25‹, constructed a country estate near Córdoba for the Marqués de Murrieta. The remains of the now lost villa and garden have recently been investigated by the German Archaeological Institute, as part of a comprehensive study of the 10th century Islamic palace on which the estate had been built. The singular design of the building attests to the search for a new style of architecture based on the ›honest‹ rural architecture of Andalusia, as called for by Fernando García Mercadal and others. The design of a promenade architecturale moreover hints at the innovative potential of the architects and their contribution to the modern movement in Spain.

- The crisis of architectural schools in Italy and the profound uncertainty running through practices and the teaching of architectural and planning disciplines has roots which date back a long time. If we re-read today some of the texts and public actions of some of the greatest Italian architects or critics of architecture such as Giovanni Michelucci, Giancarlo De Carlo, Leonardo Benevolo and Bruno Zevi, in dissent with the scientific and academic communities to which they belonged, it is hard not to grasp, with the benefit of hindsight, the lucidity of their intellectual positions and the urgency of their arguments. Four episodes are presented which allow us to return to the issue of training architects in their relationship with the professional dimension and also with society and to consider more generally the crisis of inherited models of university education, which no longer seem able to meet the challenges of today.

One of the most remarkable stories in the history of Roman archaeology, and totally unknown to modern scholars and works of reference, despite the comprehensive documentation, is the story of the extraction of the column of Antoninus Pius in the Campus Martius (1703–5). The work was placed in the hands of the ‘noble’ architects Carlo and Francesco Fontana, instead of competent engineers, and the result was the destruction of the column.

Jan Reisner (ca. 1655-1713) was a painter and architect. He was sent by King Jan III together with Jerzy Siemiginowski to study art at St. Luke Academy in Rome. He traveled to the Eternal City (where he arrived on February 24, 1678) with Prince Michał Radziwiłł’s retinue. Cardinal Carlo Barberini, who later became the protector of Regni Poloniae, was the guardian and protector of the artist during his studies in 1678-1682. In the architectural competition announced by the Academy in 1681 Reisner was awarded the fi prize in the fi class, and a little later he was accepted as a member of this prestigious university. He was awarded the Order of the Golden Spur (Aureatae Militiae Eques) and the title Aulae Lateranensis Comes, which was equivalent to becoming a nobleman. The architectural award was conferred by the jury of Concorso Academico, composed of the Academy’s principe painter Giuseppe Garzi, its secretary Giuseppe Gezzi, and the architects Gregorio Tommassini and Giovanni B. Menicucci. In the Archivio storico dell’Accademia di San Luca, preserved are three design drawings of a church made by Jan Reisner in pen and watercolor, showing the front elevation, longitudinal section, and a projection. Although they were made for the 1681 competition, they were labelled with the date 1682, when the prizes were already being awarded. Reisner’s design reflected the complicated trends in the architecture of the 1660s and 1670s, especially in the architectural education of St. Luke’s Academy. There, attempts were made to reconcile the classicistic tendencies promoted by the French court with the reference to the forms of mature Roman Baroque. As a result of this attempt to combine the features of the two traditions, an eclectic work was created, as well as other competition projects created by students of the St. Luke’s Academy. The architect designed the Barberini temple-mausoleum, on a circular plan with eight lower chapels opening inwards and a rectangular chancel. The inside of the rotund is divided into three parts: the main body with opening chapels, a tambour, and a dome with sketches of the Fall of Angels. Inside, there is an altar with a pillar-and-column canopy. The architectural origin of the building was determined by ancient buildings: the Pantheon (AD 125) and the Mausoleum of Constance (4th century AD). A modern school based of this model was opened by Andrea Palladio, who designed the Tempietto Barbaro in Maser from 1580. In the near future, the Santa Maria della Assunzione in Ariccia (1662-1664) by Bernini and Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption (1670-1676) in Paris by Charles Errard could provide inspiration. In particular, the unrealized project of Carlo Fontana to adapt the Colosseum to the place of worship of the Holy Martyrs was undertaken by Clement X in connection with the celebration of the Holy Year in 1675. In the middle of the Flavius amphitheatre, he designed the elevation of a church in the form of an antique-styled rotunda, with a dome on a high tambour and a wreath of chapels encircling it. Equally important was the design of the fountain of the central church in Basque Loyola (Santuario di S. Ignazio a Loyola). In the Baroque realizations of the then Rome we find patterns for the architectural decoration of the Reisnerian church. In the layout and the artwork of the facades we notice the influence of the columnar Baroque facades, so common in different variants in the works of da Cortona, Borromini and Rainaldi. The monumental columnar facades built according to Carlo Rainaldi’s designs were newly completed: S. Andrea della Valle (1656 / 1662-1665 / 1666) and S. Maria in Campitelli (designed in 1658-1662 and executed in 1663-1667), and Borromini San Carlo alle Quatro Fontane (1667-1677). The angels supporting the garlands on the plinths of the tambour attic are modelled on the decoration of two churches of Bernini: S. Maria della Assunzione in Ariccia (1662-1664) and S. Andrea al Quirinale (1658-1670). The repertoire of mature Baroque also includes the window frames of the front facade of the floor in the form of interrupted beams and, with the header made in the form of sections capped with volutes. The design indicates that the chancel was to be laid out on a slightly elongated rectangle with rounded corners and covered with a ceiling with facets, with a cross-section similar to a heavily flattened dome. It is close to the solutions used by Borromini in the Collegio di Propaganda Fide and the Oratorio dei Filippini. The three oval windows decorated with C-shaped arches and with ribs coming out of the volute of the base of the dome, which were among the characteristic motifs of da Cortona, taken over from Michelangelo, are visible. The crowning lantern was given an original shape: a pear-shaped outline with three windows of the same shape, embraced by S-shaped elongated volutes, which belonged to the canonical motifs used behind da Cortona by the crowds of architects of late Baroque eclecticism. Along with learning architecture, which was typical at the Academy, Reisner learned painting and geodesy, thanks to which, after his return to Poland, he gained prestige and importance at the court of Jan III, then with the Płock Voivode Jan Krasiński. His promising architectural talent did gain prominence as an architect in Poland, although – like few students of St. Luke’s Academy – he received all the honors as a student and graduate.

When designing or retrofitting a building, not too many tools let architects and engineers to define the optimal conditions to reduce energy consumption with the minimal economic investment. This is because different software resources must be employed and an iterative calculation must be done which, most of times, is not possible. The present study aims to define an original methodology that let researchers and architects to select the best option between different possibilities. To reach this objective, Monte Carlo method is employed on the ISO 13790 standard reaching the probability distribution of the energy consumption of each building after each possible modification. From main results, two mathematical models were obtained from a real case study showing the relation between annual energy consumption and economic investment of each different building retrofits. What is more, in disagreement with the expected result, the best retrofit option was not the one with the highest cost and qualities. In conclusion, this methodology can be a useful tool for researchers and professionals to improve their decision-making.

The 1960s were a crucial decade for museum building in Mexico. The key year was 1964, the end of Adolfo López Mateos's presidential term, since it saw the inauguration of the Museo de Arte Moderno, the Anahuacalli, the Museo de la Ciudad de México, and the most spectacular of all: the Museo Nacional de Antropología, the architect Pedro Ramírez Vázquez's masterpiece and one of the country's primary tourist attractions. The 1960s also witnessed how Carlos Fuentes, a young writer who had published his first novel in 1958, continued to produce his canonical works at a staggering pace. In what follows, the dialogue between Fuentes's early fiction and the Museo Nacional de Antropología, two of the jewels of Mexican high modernism (always a dialogue with nationalism), not only invites a rereading of their most obvious features—namely, the luminous tension between their structures and their meticulous attention to detail—but also, from the distance of half a century (especially from the vantage point of the PRI's return to power), reveals a series of hitherto unexamined gaps and silences that merit critical attention.

From the onset of contemporary architecture, the controversial presence of visual arts manifested itself as one of the approaches in its development. In the mid-twentieth century the use of the term “plastic integration” started to be widespread, exposing the confrontation between diverse stances and positions. Three of the pioneers in the forefront of this field were Carlos Obregón Santacilia, with his building for the Secretaría de Salubridad (1929), Mario Pani, with the Hotel Reforma (1936), and Enrique Yáñez, with the Sindicato Mexicano de Electricistas (1936-1940). The movement, headed by the leading architects of the time in collaboration with important artists, searched for an intersection between the visual arts and architecture.

The Portuguese Institute of Oncology (IPO) built in modern Lisbon, between 1927 and 1948, and added to until 1996, is the result of the Francisco Gentil effort to study and treat cancer. It is part of the Portuguese modern healthcare network and a reference concerning social, urban and architecture innovations, where the architects Cristino da Silva (1896–1936), Carlos Ramos (1897–1969), Raul Lino (1879–1974), Ernest Koop (1890–1962), Walter Diestel (1904–) and Raul Rodrigues de Lima (1909–1980) took part. By highlighting its cultural value this essay aims to stress the importance of achieving public and institutional awareness, in dealing with its everyday intensive use and transformation, towards a sustainable future.

The Fondation Strutt Foundation has taken on the conservation planning of the Strutt House as part of a P3 collaborative effort with the National Capital Commission (NCC). This paper will address three of the primary documents/data sets (documentary methodologies) being used on/for the Strutt House project. The Strutt House is a Recognized Federal Heritage Building and a significant example of Canadian modernist architecture. Stakeholder is a term often used in Architectural Projects reflecting an economic interest in success of the project. In conservation projects the stakeholder generally reflects social, cultural and/or economic interests in a given project. The Strutt House project has benefitted from stakeholders that have all been interested in the above, as well as the education of our future conservationists. The Strutt house was purchased from the architect’s daughter in 2010, and as part of the acquisition, a <i>Heritage Structure Report</i> was commissioned and produced by PTAH Consultants Inc., Architects. The report forms the first of the primary referenced documents of this paper, including: a comprehensive photographic record of existing conditions; and, a <i>building simulation model</i> of the house ‘as designed/built’. This HSR and the accompanying data/documents have been adopted as the basis of an evolving document in the development of the <i>Conservation Plan</i> including: additional heritage surveys and technologies; traditional drawings, photographic and video records; and, a series of workshops on the structural stabilization efforts, thermography scans, and smoke/blow-door (air pressure) testing. In 2016, Pierre Jouan, a Master’s thesis student from KU Leuvan, working with the Carleton University CIMS lab under the direction of Professor Mario Santana, and the FSF completed a <i>3-D scanning and photogrammetry</i> workshop on the Strutt House and created a building information model (BIM model) from the collected data. The three primary documentation processes being addressed in this paper are really a series of directed research or focussed investigations resulting in a collection of data sets resolved -or combined- into a document. They will assist in the development of the long-term Programming and Conservation Management Plan of the Strutt House.

The Temple in MälbyIn the mid 1780s the count, naval officer, and architect Carl August Ehrensvärd (1745–1800) designed the main building and surrounding gardens at Mälby estate (Gnesta, Sweden). Ehrensvärd’s close friend, the high-ranking civil servant Johan Gustaf von Carlson (1743–1801), was the owner of the estate who commissioned the project. A number of buildings were erected in the ambitiously planned landscape garden, among them a Greek temple, a full-scale reconstruction of the Temple of Theseus in Athens (today known as the Temple of Hephaestus). This temple was one of the first examples of pure neoclassical architecture in Sweden. The aim of the article is to place the temple in a contemporary philosophical, literary, and artistic context, as well as to draw some conclusions about its erection, design and social function. Because the building has long since disappeared, the source material available today includes guidebooks, sketches, letters, and research conducted in the fields of literature, art, and gender studies.

This paper presents the development of a BIM model for a stratified historic structure characterized by a complex geometry: Filarete’s Ospedale Maggiore ice house, one of the few remaining historic ice houses in Milan (Fig. 1). Filarete, a well-known Renaissance architect and theorist, planned the hospital in the 15^th century, but the ice house was built two centuries later with a double-storey irregular octagonal brick structure, half under and half above ground, that enclosed another circular structure called the ice room. The purpose of the double-walled structure was to store ice in the middle and store and preserve perishable food and medicine at the outer side of the ice room. During World War II, major portions of the hospital and the above-ground section of the ice house was bombed and heavily damaged. Later, in 1962, the hospital was restored and rehabilitated into a university, with the plan to conceal the ice house’s remaining structure in the courtyard, which ultimately was excavated and incorporated into a new library for the university.<br><br> A team of engineers, architects, and students from Politecnico di Milano and Carleton University conducted two heritage recording surveys in 2015 and 2016 to fully document the existing condition of the ice house, resulting in an inclusive laser scanner and photogrammetric point cloud dataset. The point cloud data was consolidated and imported into two leading parametric modelling software, Autodesk Revit© and Graphisoft ArchiCAD©, with the goal to develop two BIMs in parallel in order to study and compare the software BIM workflow, parametric capabilities, attributes to capture the complex geometry with high accuracy, and the duration for parametric modelling. The comparison study of the two software revealed their workflow limitations, leading to integration of the BIM generative process with other pure modelling software such as Rhinoceros©. The integrative BIM process led to the production of a comprehensive BIM model that documented related historic data and the existing physical state of the ice house, to be used as a baseline for preventive maintenance, monitoring, and future conservation projects.

One of Alexander Calder’s largest artworks can be found in Venezuela, at the University of Caracas. It is the result of a unique collaboration between an architect, an acoustician and an artist. The university’s great fan shaped auditorium, designed by Carlos Villanueva in 1953, proved to be acoustically problematic and the engineer therefore proposed a solution with interior claddings. This was rejected, however, because it would radically change the shape of the hall. Finally, Alexander Calder was approached. He came up with an innovative installation consisting of 30 reflectors shaped as flying saucers and suspended from the ceiling

Tanulmányomban a templomhomlokzat és az oltárépítmény felépítésének, tagoló rendszerének párhuzamaira kívántam felhívni a figyelmet. Mind a homlokzatoknak, mind az oltárarchitektúráknak a tervezői építészek voltak, így természetes, hogy hasonló motívumokat használtak fel mind a két esetben. A tridenti zsinat utáni katolikus megújulás fontos szereplője, Borromei Szent Károly, új tabernákulumformát és tértípust hozott létre a lombard építész, Pellegrino Tibaldi közreműködésével. Pellegrinónak kulcsszerepe volt a jezsuita templomtípus megteremtésében, tervei nyomán nem csupán Milánóban, hanem Torinóban is épült templom; hatása kimutatható a bécsi domonkos templom homlokzatán is, amelynek építésze, a bissonei Giovanni Giacomo Tencalla családjának több tagja révén közvetíthette Magyarországra az itáliai hatást. Az építészek, mint például a bécsi Kirche am Hof tervezője, a luganói Filiberto Lucchese, maguk is terveztek oltárokat, vagy közreműködtek a stukkátorokkal, akik gyakran ugyanabból a régióból érkeztek, mint a tervező építész. Így fordulhatott elő, hogy a nyugat-dunántúli stukkóoltárokat általában észak-itáliai mesterek készítették a templomhomlokzatok nyomán.Summary. This study proposes to re-examine the dynamic interaction between the frontispiece of the church and the high altar. While the façade often functions as an open-air altarpiece, the altar itself is a “gate of Paradise.” Both the frontispieces and the altar structures were designed by architects, consequently, they use similar motives. Carlo Borromeo, as a key-figure of post-tridentine church reformed the sacred space and the tabernacle of the Cathedral in Milan following the designs of Pellegrino Tibaldi. Pellegrino played an eminent role in creating a new Jesuit church-type in San Fedele, Milan, which served as a model for the Corpus Christi basilica in Torino as well as for the Santa Maria Dominican Church in Vienna. The latter one was planned by Giovanni Giacomo Tencalla from Bissone (Lugano), and from the same family stemmed well-known stuccators and painters, who also worked for Hungarian commissioners. The architect of the Jesuit church Kirche am Hof in Vienna, Filiberto Lucchese, also worked for the Batthyány family, and designed altarpieces. In this way, we are able to establish a strong interaction between the altar-structure and façade, bringing considerable novelty in analysing architectural forms and design.

That there is a striking correspondence between the thinking of such A nineteenth-century transcendentalists as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau and that of the twentieth-century American master of photography Edward Weston should come as no great surprise, for it is widely recognized that transcendentalism has been an essential ingredient in the lives and work of numerous major American artists. During the nineteenth century, this influence was most fully expressed by poets like Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson, by the painter Thomas Eakins, and by the architect Louis Sullivan. At the turn of the century, the composer Charles Ives and painters Robert Henri and his “Ashcan” colleagues John Sloan, George Luks, William Glackens, and Everett Shinn continued to draw sustenance from the ideas and example of the transcendentalists. And during the early twentieth century, the brilliant architect Frank Lloyd Wright, the gifted painter Georgia O'Keeffe, and major poets Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens, and William Carlos Williams made clear through their work the looming presence of the transcendentalist tradition. Thus, well before the 1920s, when Edward Weston began making his most innovative photographs, transcendentalism consciously and unconsciously pervaded American intellectual and artistic life: It was something to absorb or reject-or both. “Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith, the army of unalterable law,” was how Eliot put it. Weston was not exempt from this law.

Gaspare Vigarani, the Italian architect and set designer, was hired in 1659 to build a new theatre in the Tuileries Palace for the festivities celebrating Louis XIV's marriage in 1660. This theatre, the ill-fated albeit magnificent Salle des Machines, was not completed in time for the wedding celebration. It opened in February 1662 with a production of Cavalli's opera Ercole amante. His sons Carlo and Ludovico had assisted Vigarani in creating the scenery and machinery for this production. In 1663, Carlo was invited back to France to supervise royal entertainments, a function he exercised until 1680. In 1673, he joined the composer Lully at the newly created Académie royale de musique, where he designed scenery until 1680. Jean Berain, who was named to the post of “dessinateur de la chambre et du cabinet du Roi” in 1674, had assisted Vigarani early in his career and designed costumes for Lully's operas. He succeeded Vigarani as set designer at the Opera in 1680, a post he would hold until 1710.

Venaria Reale was built by the Savoy Duke Carlo Emanuele II on a marshy site about six miles north-east of Turin. It comprised a large palace cum hunting-lodge, gardens, a hunting wood and a small city through which the palace was approached. Designed by the architect Amadeo di Castellamonte, it was built almost entirely ex novo between about 1655 and 1675. The entire project was thematically structured around an elaborate programme of emblems (essentially mottos with illustrative paintings) drawn from contemporary rhetorical practice. This iconographic scheme was devised by the court philosopher and eminent theorist of rhetoric, Emanuele Tesauro. It is also clear that the Duke himself was involved in both the architecture and decoration of the scheme.

In recent decades, architectural historians, preservationists, and the general public have shown a growing interest in Fascist-era buildings. Many of the most high-profile examples are those associated with the monumental excesses of the regime. However, new attention has also been focused on more modest buildings that are significant examples of interwar Italian modernism or Rationalism, including former party headquarters (case del fascio). Taking as primary examples works by Giuseppe Terragni, the architect most often associated with Rationalism, as well by Luigi Carlo Danieri and Luigi Vietti, whose interwar contributions to Italian modernism have been less often the focus of scholarly attention, this article traces the postwar histories of case del fascio with the aim of better understanding the ways in which architecture and politics intersect and some of the consequences of this for the contemporary Italian architectural landscape.

This discussion paper deals with the participation in the exhibition entitled The “Greater Number”. This exhibition was the ghost stage of the Milan Triennale XIV in 1968. A scenario that could be perceived as an inverted “amarcord” today. The exhibition was organized with the Italian architect Giancarlo De Carlo in a leading role. The “Greater Number” defined the construction details, invited prestigious speakers, attracted international participants, designed the physical space, and called on the media. However, it did not take place. It was absent and occupied, a priori, by a citizen’s movement, by a generalized and crystalline discontent on an international scale. In the face of the tangible crisis of May 1968, we now find the “intangible” one of May 2020. This is when the debate on The “Greater Number” and “participation” in the city arose again 50 years later.

This contribution describes the results of an International workshop on documentation of historic and cultural heritage developed jointly between Universidad de Guadalajara’s Centro Universitario de Arte, Arquitectura y Diseño (CUAAD) and Carleton University’s Architectural Conservation and Sustainability Program. The objective of the workshop was to create a learning environment for emerging heritage professionals through the use of advanced recording techniques for the documentation of modern architectural heritage in Guadalajara, Mexico. The selected site was Casa Cristo, one of the several architectural projects by Luis Barragán in Guadalajara. The house was built between 1927 and 1929 for Gustavo R. Cristo, mayor of the city. The style of the building reflects the European influences derived from the architect’s travel experience, as well as the close connection with local craftsmanship. All of these make the house an outstanding example of modern regional architecture. A systematic documentation strategy was developed for the site, using different survey equipment and techniques to capture the shape, colour, spatial configuration, and current conditions of Casa Cristo for its eventual rehabilitation and conservation.

W 2. połowie XVII w. do Warszawy przybyła grupa architektów pochodzących z położonej nad jeziorem Lugano Valsoldy, w północnej Lombardii. Wśród nich znaleźli się Carlo i Francesco Ceroniowie. Postacie te za sprawą badań prof. Mariusza Karpowicza doczekały się samodzielnych opracowań. To on odnalazł w archiwum parafialnym w Albogasio Inferiore ich metryki, ustalił koligacje rodzinne, dotarł do kontraktu Francesca Ceroniego na prace przy kościele sakramentek oraz do testamentu Carla Ceroniego. Badania prowadzone przez autora tekstu dla Słownika architektów i budowniczych środowiska warszawskiego XV-XVIII wieku przyniosły szereg informacji biograficznych. Kwerenda w archiwum parafialnym w Albogasio Inferiore ujawniła nowe dokumenty źródłowe. Odnaleziono pełnomocnictwo Ceroniego dane w 1711 r. przed władzami Miasta Starej Warszawy dla Pietra Martiriego i Carla Antonia Bellottich na występowanie w jego imieniu przed władzami Valsoldy oraz zbiór dokumentów dotyczących konfliktu miedzy Carlem Ceronim a Carlem Fariną. Konflikt ten, o podłożu finansowym, skłonił Ceroniego do wyłączenia w testamencie rodziny Farina z udziału w spadku. Farina, który zabezpieczał w latach 1693-1699 włoskie interesy architekta, zarzucił Ceroniemu niespłacenie całości długu. Ceroni w liście z Warszawy z 16 maja 1714 roku skierowanym do kuzyna, burmistrza Valsoldy, przedstawił argumenty w których wykazał, że dług spłacił, a nawet poniósł szkody na wspólnych interesach z Carlem Fariną. Z tego samego listu wynika, że druga córka architekta, Lucia - wbrew dotychczasowym ustaleniom - dożyła pełnoletniości i w wieku 31 lat wstąpiła do zakonu (zm. 1717). Kwerenda w aktach notarialnych archiwum państwowego w Como pozwoliła odnaleźć kodycyl Franciszka Ceroniego oraz plenipotencję wystawioną przez spadkobierców Ceroniego architektom Carlo Antonio Bay i Giuseppe Rachetti na odzyskanie długów od Zofii i Dominika Combonich. Sześć listów Carla Ceroniego do Samuela Pączkowskiego, administratora dóbr Krasińskich, odnalezionych w Archiwum Głównym Akt Dawnych w Warszawie przyniosło nowe informacje na temat prac prowadzonych w Węgrowie. Listy te każą zweryfikować czas trwania prac przy zespole kościoła i klasztoru węgrowskich reformatów, i wydłużyć je o co najmniej dziesięć lat. Przeprowadzona przez autora analiza źródeł pozwala stwierdzić, iż głównym właścicielem przedsiębiorstwa budowlanego był młodszy z braci Ceronich - Francesco. Carlo i Francesco Ceroniowie dorobili się znacznego majątku, który po ich śmierci przeszedł na własność mieszkańców Albogasio jako Eredita Ceroni. Jeszcze w XIX w. zyski z niego przeznaczane były na potrzeby mieszkańców miasteczka.

We present an OWL 2 ontology, called SaintGall, representing the Saint Gall plan, one of the most ancient documents arrived intact to us. The Saint Gall plan describes the ideal model of a Benedictine monastic complex that inspired the design of many European monasteries. The structural, functional, and architectural specification of an ideal Benedectine monastery is modeled by the SaintGall ontology, which allows one to analyse and model the Monastery architectural type. This work started with the purpose of relating Catania’s San Nicolò l’Arena Benedectine Monastery with the abstract notion of Benedectine monastery, in the ambit of an ontological model based on the renovation works carried out by the architect Giancarlo De Carlo and developed by the same authors. The SaintGall ontology opens a research path aiming at comparing different monastic architectures that can be useful in any intervention of refurbishment or design for a monastery.

This article is the first in Russia detailed publication about Carlo Scarpa, one of the greatest masters of Italian architecture of the twentieth century: an architect, an artist, a designer, about whom almost annually books and catalogs are published, scientific works are being written, exhibitions and conferences are held. In this article, the experience of these publications, searches and discussions has for the first time become the object of a special study. It is found that variety of authors refer to the Scarp's buildings, drawings and statements as a kind of "Scarpianlaboratory" (the term M. Tafuri), that allows to reveal the implicit; deep levels of architectural structures and their meanings. Theleading research topics, which are projected onto keylevels of the architecturallanguage and the creative method of the master are identified. Each of these topics is covered by a small section entitled in terms adopted by Scarpa himself or his interpreters. Within the sections, author's and research positions are presented by selections of specially made translations of lectures that Carlo Scarpa and studies devoted to his work, including articles by Manfredo Tafuri, Bruno Dzevi and other great theorists and historians of Italian architecture. A number of fundamental ideas and provisions of this article were put forward for the first time, including for Italian theory and criticism.

The last year that Carlo Scarpa taught at the IUAV, he proposed a civic museum as the topic of the course, in particular in the old Santa Caterina Convent in Treviso, which is currently the headquarters of the archive of the architect. The issue of the museology was developed during the lessons given at the University and dealt with several of his most recognised projects, in order to expose the guidelines of his museology approach. The message he conveyed in his classes did not describe precise details as much as acting strategies. But nevertheless, the approach to the work of Carlo Scarpa reveals a scale of museum detail that has never been experienced before. This care for the solutions of encounters and for the suitability of expositions constitutes a true contribution to the history of architecture and is, therefore, a model of the contemporary museology theory. The interest of the interventions of Scarpa, lies in the abstraction and refinement, both of his exhibition spaces and of the support elements of the works to be exhibited. This allows on occasions to be recreated in nuances that enrich the pieces with a delicacy that we could almost describe as a work of goldsmithing.

En este trabajo estudiamos el cambio de ubicación de los distintos cementerios de Totana en el siglo XIX. Hasta 1811 estos espacios se situaron en templos y ermitas. Las epidemias de principios del siglo XIX obligaron a materializar las disposiciones que Carlos III había publicado en el siglo XVIII y que decretaban alejar los enterramientos de los núcleos urbanos. Fue así como las autoridades locales iniciaron la construcción de un primer cementerio en la población en 1813. Este ámbito estuvo en uso hasta que en 1885 se edificó el cementerio actual, el de Nuestra Señora del Carmen, más alejado de la población y siguiendo un modelo estético e higienista establecido por el arquitecto diocesano Justo Millán Espinosa. In this work we study the change of location of the different cemeteries of Totana in the 19th century. Until 1811 these spaces were located in temples and hermitages. The epidemics of the early nineteenth century forced to carry out the provisions that Carlos III had published in the eighteenth century which decreed the removal of burials from urban centres. This is how local authorities began the construction of a first cemetery in the population in 1813. This place was in use until 1885 when the current cemetery of «Nuestra Señora del Carmen» was built. This cemetery is further away from the population and follows an aesthetic and hygienist model established by the diocesan architect Justo Millán Espinosa.

The building of the old College of Piarist in Chełm – located on Lubelska Street, near the late baroque Church of Holy Apostles the Messengers – is now the seat of the Wiktor Ambroziewicz Chełm Land Museum. Until now, it has not raised much interest among researchers and – appearing as a work of architecture devoid of expressive style features – has not been the subject of scientific reflection. This situation is changed by the disclosure of the preserved drawing from 1698, showing the building in a horizontal projection and axonometric view, stored in the Archivio Generale delle Scuole Pie in Rome. The information contained in written documents kept there allow to determine the time of construction of the building for the years 1698-1700. The project proves that the preserved edifice did not change substantially its one-story block, set on the plan of the letter H. The innovations concerned only the roof part over the main body, which was originally the Krakow roof, and the extension of one of the side wings in 1720-1724 (so that the college was connected to the church). Neither did the subsequent transformations significantly affect the internal divisions, be it in the two-and-a-half tract main corpus, with the cross-corridor communication system introduced therein, or in the single tract side wings. The shape of the building and the severity of the development of its facade, representing the baroque in its classicizing version, suggests the designer – Giuseppe Piola, an architect working in Warsaw at the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries, building, at the request of the Piarist order, also their church and monastery complex in Szczuczyn. However, the extension of the college wing made in the first half of the 18th century should probably be associated with the person of another capital architect – Carlo Antonio Bay, who at the same time, together with his son-in-law, Vincenzo Rachetti, also an architect, made calculations for the Piarist priests from Chełm for the profitability of their parcel located in the suburbs of the city of Lublin. The building in Chełm was a monastic college, and at certain times also a “profesorium”, in which Piarist clerics learned philosophy at a higher level of education. Contrary to some suggestions, there was never a public school run by the Piarists in this building. It was founded – as a Russian gymnasium – only after the January Uprising and the dissolution of the Scholarum Piarum community.

The article examines the principles of Giancarlo De Carlo’s design approach. It pays special attention to his critique of the modernist functionalist logic, which was based on a simplified understanding of users. De Carlo′s participatory design approach was related to his intention to replace of the linear design process characterising the modernist approaches with a non-hierarchical model. Such a non-hierarchical model was applied to the design of the Nuovo Villaggio Matteotti in Terni among other projects. A characteristic of the design approach applied in the case of the Nuovo Villaggio Matteotti is the attention paid to the role of inhabitants during the different phases of the design process. The article explores how De Carlo’s “participatory design” criticised the functionalist approaches of pre-war modernist architects. It analyses De Carlo’s theory and describes how it was made manifest in his architectural practice—particularly in the design for the Nuovo Villaggio Matteotti and the master plan for Urbino—in his teaching and exhibition activities, and in the manner his buildings were photographs and represented through drawings and sketches. The work of Giancarlo De Carlo and, especially, his design methods in the case of the Nuovo Villaggio Matteotti can help us reveal the myths of participatory design approaches within the framework of their endeavour to replace the representation of designers by a representation of users. The article relates the potentials and limits of De Carlo’s participatory design approach to more contemporary concepts such as “negotiated planning”, “co-production”, and “crossbenching”. The article also intends to explore whether there is consistency between De Carlo’s theory of participation and its application.

As a masterpiece of urban renovation by a major Renaissance architect, the Facciata dei Banchi enjoys wide critical acclaim. The scholarly literature on it, however, is bedeviled by historical uncertainties as well as by cursory accounts of the physical and formal evidence. The object of this essay is threefold: to present some new and firm documentation about the patronage, dating, and authorship of the work; to assess Vignola's achievement in its design; and to offer a critical reading of the project within the ideology of style. Accordingly, the façade is shown to have been erected between 1565 and 1568 under the initial supervision of Carlo da Limito, who followed a master plan produced by Vignola in 1564 for papal governor Pier Donato Cesi. The design incorporates features of preexisting and neighboring buildings, applies triumphal and theatrical imagery to the Piazza Maggiore, and is faithful to Vignola's precepts about the orders. As an example of urban renovation promoted by papal authorities, the Facciata dei Banchi reflects the Vatican's commitment to using Roman classicism to promote political ends in the ecclesiastical state.

Global interest in sustainable and green building design has been increasing in the last few decades. This interest is strengthened by the fact that sustainable measures help in reducing negative social and environmental impacts of buildings. For that, this paper aims to develop a mixed integer optimization model that aids architects/designers and owner representatives during design stage in selecting building materials taking into consideration costs and risks that are involved in the selection process. The model is developed as a simulation optimization tool based on the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) rating system for new construction. The developed model allows deterministic and probabilistic cost analysis of various design alternatives. In addition, it identifies the least possible cost to gain the LEED credits and the risks associated with materials’ quantities and materials’ unit prices. To illustrate the use of the proposed tool, a case study of an office building project constructed in Egypt is presented. An integrated Fuzzy Monte Carlo Simulation (FMCS) analysis is performed to account for the associated risks of using new materials in the considered case study. The proposed model is capable to capture the cost uncertainty of building materials and to identify the cost and sustainability performance of various building materials by relating the LEED rating system for new construction.

The study of ancient marble plays an important role in the interpretation of historical and archaeological sites and gives interesting information about building materials used in ancient times and their trade routes. The present work focuses on Chianocco marble that represents one of the most important ancient white marbles for cultural heritage exploited in the Piedmont region (Northwest Italy) and employed for the Palazzo Madama façade. A multi-analytical study based on petrographic (optical and scanning electron microscopy), electron microprobe, cathodoluminescence and stable isotope analyses was carried out on these marbles in order to perform an archaeometric study. Chianocco marble was used in Turin during the baroque era by the Savoy architect Filippo Juvarra (1678–1736) in historical buildings, such as the façade of the Palazzo Madama, the plinth of the façade of the town Cathedral and the columns (now plastered) of the portico of Piazza San Carlo. This stone is a dolomitic rock belonging to the Mesozoic cover of the Dora Maira Massif (Pennidic Unit). It shows a vuggy fabric characterized by a vacuolar texture due to tectonic brecciation and subsequent selective dissolution during subaerial exposure. This kind of research is useful to highlight the importance of the use of local stones as building materials and to investigate stone materials for the restoration and maintenance of historical buildings.

<p>En un tiempo en el que la situación política y social, junto con el desarrollo de nuevas tecnologías de representación y producción, ha llevado a repensar los límites del quehacer arquitectónico, surge en la Ciudad de México un nuevo espacio para reflexionar en torno al alcance de nuestra disciplina. Con la intención de promover voces emergentes de la investigación contemporánea en arquitectura, la plataforma curatorial Proyector propone un programa expositivo que busca servir de punto de encuentro para muchas de estas nuevas inquietudes a través de distintos medios y formatos, así como conversatorios con cronistas, editores y especialistas académicos. Encabezada por los arquitectos Tania Tovar Torres y Juan Carlos Espinosa Cuock, ambos egresados de la Facultad de Arquitectura de la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Proyector incluyó en su año inaugural (2018) la propuesta de Pedro Ceñal <em>Sobre la línea: la frontera vertical distribuida. </em>A partir de distintos documentos, maquetas, mapas y testimonios de migrantes, la muestra revisaba los múltiples espacios que conforman las rutas que atraviesan a través del territorio nacional, misma que también fue expuesta en la sede del Royal Institute of British Architects (riba) en Londres del 4 de junio al 6 de julio de 2019. </p><p>Para su segunda exposición, Proyector ha volteado a ver su contexto más inmediato. Ubicados en el corazón de la colonia Industrial, al norte de la capital (Av. Ingeniero Basilio Romo Anguiano 175), les ha surgido la intención de vincularse con el público local. Esta situación ha permitido a los curadores hacer una revisión de las distintas colonias industriales que surgieron como un “cinturón periférico de la vivienda de la clase trabajadora que apareció en la década de 1930, como consecuencia de los asentamientos de las zonas industriales en la Ciudad de México,” según sus propias palabras. Al examinar las colonias Industrial, Obrera, Nextitla, La Michoacana y San Pedro de los Pinos, que han sido relegadas a un lugar secundario por una historiografía que privilegia el genio creador y las grandes obras de arquitectura, los curadores señalan cómo esconden, en su discreción, algunas pistas para desmontar dicho aparato historiográfico que las relega, pues en ellas se concentran otras formas de pensar la(s) arquitectura(s) y, sobre todo, a su gran otro, la ciudad.</p>

The paper focuses on the importance of robotics and artificial intelligence inside of the new urban contexts in which it is possible to consider and enhance the different dimensions of quality of life such as safety and health, environmental quality, social connection and civic participation. Smart technologies help cities to meet the new challenges of society, thus making them more livable, attractive and responsive in order to plan and to improve the city of the future. In accordance with the Agenda 2030 Program for sustainable development that intends the inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable city, the direction of growth and prosperity of urban environments is pursued by optimizing the use of resources and respecting the environment. In the current society, robotic technology is proposed as a tool for innovation and evolution in urban as well as industrial and domestic contexts. On the one hand the users-citizens who participate dynamically in the activities and on the other the new technological systems integrated in the urban fabric. Existing urban systems that are “amplified” of artificial and digital intelligence and give life to smart cities, physical places that allow new forms of coexistence between humans and robots in order to implement the level of quality of life and define “human centered” innovative solutions and services thus responding to the particular needs of people in an effective and dynamic way. The current city goes beyond the definition of smart city. In fact, as said by Carlo Ratti, it becomes a "senseable city", a city capable of feeling but also sensitive and capable of responding to citizens who define the overall performance of the city. The multidisciplinary approach through the dialogue between designers, architects, engineers and urban planners will allow to face the new challenges through the dynamics of robot integration in the urban landscape. The cities of the future, in fact, will be pervaded by autonomous driving vehicles, robotized delivery systems and light transport solutions, in response to the new concept of smart mobility, on a human scale, shared and connected mobility in order to improve management and control of the digitized and smart city. Automation at constant rates as the keystone for urban futures and new models of innovative society. Through the identification of representative case studies in the field of innovative systems it will be possible to highlight the connections between design, smart city and "urban" robotics that will synergically highlight the main "desirable" qualities of life in the city as a place of experimentation and radical transformations. In particular, parallel to the new robotic solutions and human-robot interactions, the design discipline will be responsible for designing the total experience of the user who lives in synergy with the robots, thus changing the socio-economic dynamics of the city.

Pałac Koniecpolskich-Radziwiłłów (obecnie Prezydencki) należy do wyróżniających się skalą i prestiżem rezydencji Warszawy. Powstał w latach 1643-1646/1656 według projektu Contante Tencalli dla hetmana Stanisława Koniecpolskiego, wybitnego rycerza i znakomitego polityka. Następnie należał do książąt Lubomirskich, a 1674 r. zakupiony został przez księcia Michała Radziwiłła. W rękach tej rodziny pozostał do 1818 r. Od 1684 r. Radziwiłłowie prowadzili przebudowy i adaptacje zgodnie ze zmieniającymi się potrzebami użytkowymi i reprezentacyjnymi, angażując najwybitniejszych architektów pracujących w Warszawie. Wyjątkowo, jak na polskie warunki zachowane źródła w postaci inwentarzy pałacu z lat 1681, 1685, 1717, 1721, 1728, 1735 oraz rachunki i korespondencja pozwalają na odtworzenie dziejów przemian budowli, zakresu prac architektonicznych oraz roli uczestniczących w nich architektów. Materiały te posłużyły do rekonstrukcji zmieniających się układów funkcjonalnych wnętrz, które opracowane zostały w formie graficznej. Za podstawę posłużył plan Pianta del Palazzo di uarsauia [Varsavia] wykonany przez Giovaniego B. Gisleniego przed 1655 r., a znajdujący się obecnie w Castello Sforzesco w Mediolanie. Tencalla zaprojektował pałac z loggią od dziedzińca, tarasem z grotą od ogrodu oraz długą salą wewnątrz, po bokach której powstały paradne apartamenty. Wzorował na wczesnobarokowych willach i pałacach rzymskich z 2 poł. XVI i pocz. XVII w. – pałacu papieskim na Kwirynale i willi Borghese oraz willi Mondragone we Frascati. Ponieważ budowla miała pełnić nie tylko funkcje rekreacyjne ale również reprezentacyjne pałac otrzymał trzy kondygnacje – parter, piano nobile i mezzanino, i tym samym wpisywał się w tradycję rezydencji otwartej o francuskiej genezie. Z połączenia dwóch typów rezydencji włoskiej willi i francuskiego pałacu wynikł problem kształtu schodów. Tencalla, opierając się na schematach willowych zaprojektował schody ciasne i ciemne, nie spełniające w wystarczającym stopniu wymogów reprezentacji. Po śmierci Tencalli Gisleni przedstawił nowe projekty schodów, których jednak nie zrealizowano. Próby rozwiązania tego problemu pojawiały się przy kolejnych adaptacjach i remontach pałacu. Nową klatką schodową z duszą wybudowano dopiero w poł. XVIII w. dostawiając ją do budynku od północy. W latach 1689-1690 Giuseppe S. Bellotti wykonał remont pałacu dla Michała Radziwiłła i jego żony Katarzyny z Sobieskich. Odnowił schody na pierwsze piętro i wyremontował salę jadalną na parterze. W większym zakresie modernizację pałacu wykonali w latach 1693-1701 Augustyn W. Locci i Carlo Ceroni dla kolejnego właściciela Karola Radziwiłła oraz Anny z Sanguszków. Powstała wtedy wielka jadalnia na parterze. Ceroni jako budowniczy i inżynier wodny nadzorował także prace ogrodowe związane z urządzeniami wodnymi w grocie. By podnieść reprezentacyjność wnętrz pałacu ponownie podjęto ponownie próbę wybudowania nowych schodów. Projekty wykonali architekci Andrzej J. Jeziernicki (1701-1705) oraz laureat Akademii św. Łukasza Benedykt de Renard (1720-1721). One także nie zostały zrealizowane. W tym czasie Carlo A. Bay z dużych pokojów na parterze wyodrębnił kameralne apartamenty mieszkalne przeznaczone dla Michała Radziwiłła „Rybeńki”. W następnych latach 1727-1728 skoncentrowano się na podnoszeniu splendoru ogrodu. W tym celu, za pośrednictwem de Renarda sprowadzony został z Rzymu architekt Domenico Cioli, który odnowił grotę, urządzenia wodne i pawilony ogrodowe. Zrekonstruowany proces przemian jakich dokonali znakomici architekci w latach 1684-1735 ukazuje skomplikowaną materię jaką było użytkowanie pałacu wzniesionego w czasach Wazów, a funkcjonującego w epoce silnych tendencji do manifestowania reprezentacji, którego wyznacznikami były paradny dziedziniec, regularny ogród, i co najważniejsze paradna sekwencja wnętrz – sień, schody i Sala Wielka. Przykład pałacu Radziwiłłów-Koniecpolskich znakomicie ilustruje charakterystyczne w Warszawie zjawisko, gdy wczesnobarokowe wnętrza pałaców próbowano w XVIII w. unowocześnić by spełniały nowe wymogi reprezentacji. Problem polegał na tym, że z jednej strony respektowano nieomal ortodoksyjnie zasadę nienaruszalności starych murów magistralnych, z drugiej zaś próbowano westybulom, klatkom schodowym i Salom Wielkim nadać okazałą i skalę. Konfliktowość między potrzebami unowocześnienia a możliwościami technicznymi zmuszała architektów i decydentów do podejmowania decyzji prowadzących do nietypowych rozwiązań, które odbiegały od ogólnoeuropejskich schematów rozwoju architektury, ale odbijały specyficzne uwarunkowania mentalne zleceniodawców i społeczno-ekonomiczne mechanizmy w rozwoju pałacowej architektury XVII i XVIII w. w Warszawie.

Resumen.La Catedral de la ciudad de Tulancingo es obra de José Damián Ortiz de Castro, uno de los arquitectos más brillantes de la Nueva España como afirmó Manuel Toussaint. Sin embargo, hasta pocos años, su nombre era conocido únicamente en los cí­rculos especializados. La intención del presente trabajo es dar a conocer la participación José Damián Ortiz de Castro en la construcción de importantes obras y su contribución en la implantación del estilo neoclásico a través de la Academia. Para lograrlo se realizó la localización y transcripción de documentos del archivo de la Academia de San Carlos. Pudo comprobarse que a pesar de que este distinguido arquitecto participó en muchos proyectos importantes, la iglesia de Tulancingo, es su única obra completa. (Enero,2013)Palabras clave: arquitecto, maestro mayor, parroquia, catedral,neoclásico.Abstract.The cathedral of Tulancingo city is the work of José Damian Ortiz de Castro, one of the most brilliant architects of the New Spainas Manuel Toussaint said. But until a few years, his name was known only inspecialist circles. The intention of this paper is to show their participationin the construction of major works and their contribution to the implementation of the neoclassical style by the Academy. To achieve localization andtranscript made of archival documents of the Academy of San Carlos. It was found that although this distinguished architect involved in many major projects Tulancingo church is their only complete work. (January, 2013)Keywords: architect, master builder, church, cathedral, neoclassical.

Portuguese architects, Álvaro Siza and Carlos Castanheira’s China Design Museum of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou (2012-2018) calls for a problematization of the theme of the “boundary” at different levels. In this essay the project is compared with other relevant works in regards to form, the contemporary city and design method. Formed by two bars and a partly sunken volume enclosing a triangular courtyard, the building is immediately reminiscent of other L and U plans by Siza that question private/public and interior/exterior relationships. After Rem Koolhaas published “The Generic City” in 1994, the Chinese city became the epitome of the contemporary city. Since Siza’s architecture has been discussed in terms of its continuity with the city and tradition, the project of the China Design Museum raises the question: How does Siza work in the Chinese city? Siza and Castanheira’s building is at the same time part of a large campus planned by the well-known local architects Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu/Amateur Architecture, whose experimental approach to drawing and craft skills suggests yet another set of comparisons. To sum up, Siza and Castanheira avoid easy solutions: the siting and massing, scale, spatial organization and material expression of the China Design Museum provide a measure between realities – open/closed, traditional/contemporary, local/universal – that first appeared incommensurable.

This paper examines how Paul Rudolph and Carlo Scarpa design buildings in a seemingly harsh environment to connect occupants to that which is around them. It involves the study of Fondazione Quarini Stampalia and Camping Fusina by Scarpa, along with the Umbrella House and the Healy Guest House by Rudolph, analyzing the buildings through methods of site visits, photography, and drawing. Specifically, it analyzes how the architects frame the environment, experiment with view, explore visible connection of the ground, planning for the inevitable flooding that will occur, and creating a feeling of safety for people to positively interact with what is around them. This study determines that while all these methods are important in designing buildings, it is how the architects develop an appreciation of the environment by the occupants that is imperative in designing for the future of Florida. For a more resilient Florida that can handle the environmental pressure being forced on it while also developing a design language that makes Florida’s architecture stand out.

"In 1952, Carlo Mollino was entrusted by Luigi Cattaneo, an entrepreneur from Milan, with the project of a villa to be built on a huge site on the plateau of Agra, near Luino. The challenge was taken up by the architect, who imagined an extraordinary approach: the architecture had to be anchored to the ground, thanks to a powerful embankment, and then stretched out into the landscape, thanks to an exceptional overhang that allowed it to embrace an extraordinary landscape, made up of the lake with the surrounding mountains. Starting from this intuition, which became evident from the very first sketches of the project, the history of Casa Cattaneo in Agra became the story of a difficult relationship and, often, of the explicit conflicts between an architect who, at all costs, wanted to preserve the wholeness of his original idea, expressed through drawings considered irreplaceable, and a client who, instead, tried to overcome delays and misunderstandings by entrusting the execution of the project to others."

Both urbanized Alpine territories and cities share the need for a continuous renewalof spaces, and the theme of the regeneration of mountain areas is all the more topicaldue to the change in the ways of inhabiting such places. In order to play an activerole in these transformations, contemporary architecture should take into accountthe interpretation of both the landscape and the urban fabric. Among thearchitect’s analysis tools, comparison with the past plays a significant role, and especiallyin the Alpine valleys, where the circulation of ideas is sometimes slower or“overdue” compared to dynamic urban realities.The occasional presence of professionals coming from other locations, often fromcities, can be considered an opportunity to renew the local architectural culture;these architectures materialize perspectives “from an outside eye” and fresh interpretationsof places.In the Alpine valleys, tourism and the exploitation of water resources are twothemes often related to the presence of “infiltrations”: although Val Bregaglia is fairlyuntouched by tourism development, it provides some examples of holiday homesand bears the signs of large infrastructural interventions related to the exploitationof water resources.During the twentieth century, there were no resident architects in Val Bregaglia. Afterthe economic crisis of the years between the two world wars, design activitiessaw the intervention of architects such as Bruno Giacometti (Stampa, 1907-Zollikon,2012), Peppo Brivio (Lugano 1923-2016), Tita Carloni (Rovio 1931-Mendrisio2012) and Pierre Zoelly (Zurich 1923-2003).More recently, Miller & Maranta (Basel), H.J. Ruch (St. Moritz) and Lazzarini(Samedan) also carried out projects in this territory.

Trata sobre los orígenes de la censura de obras públicas en España por la Academia madrileña entre los años 1768 y 1777. Se estudian a través de la documentación hallada en su Archivo y la bibliografía paralela complementaria. Se hallan en una serie de representaciones de los académicos al Rey Carlos III, fechadas en los años 1768 y 1777, sobre la actividad gremial. Entonces se criticaba el empleo del estilo barroco por los gremios. La crítica se centró, sobre todo, en el retablo. En su realización participaban tanto los maestros gremiales como los arquitectos, escultores y pintores académicos. En este artículo se destaca la influencia indirecta de la Academia de San Carlos de Valencia en las reales órdenes de 1777. Con ellas se cumplió el ideal político de centralización de las obras públicas en la Corte, tan del agrado de los reyes españoles de la Ilustración.This article treats about the origins ofthe censure ofpublic works in Spain done by the Madrilenian Academy from 1786 to 1777. The studies done in this article are based on the documentation found in the own Academy's Archive and in other complementary sources. We can find these origins in a serie ofrequests made by the academics to the king Carlos III and that are dated between the years 1768 and 1777, about the guild activity. By this time it was criticised the use of the Baroque style by the guilds. The critic was basically focusedin the retablo. Its realization not only was a task of the guild masters but also architects, painters and sculptors take part. In this work we point out the indirect influence ofthe San Carlos Academy, from Valencia, in the roya! orders made in 1777.

En la Triennale di Milano de 1936, el arquitecto Giuseppe Pagano comisarió junto a Werner Daniel la exposición “Architettura rurale nel bacino del Mediterraneo”, en donde realizó un elogio a la arquitectura rural italiana. Pagano desarrolló esta valoración en otros artículos teóricos, fundamentalmente desde la dirección de la revista Casabella, además de en fotografías y proyectos de arquitectura. En todos ellos propuso una mirada hacia la arquitectura rural como obra comunitaria, realizada por unos héroes anónimos, reflejo de la honestidad y la verdad que aporta la tierra. La presentó como un ejercicio estético y racional de primer nivel, conectándola directamente con el funcionalismo de los arquitectos más avanzados del Movimiento Moderno, yendo más allá de las ideas preestablecidas por el régimen de Mussolini. El presente trabajo reconoce las aportaciones más reveladoras de este elogio a lo rural hecho por Pagano, las contrasta con las ideas gubernamentales y las pone en relación con otras valoraciones coetáneas de esta arquitectura, como las desarrolladas por Josep Lluís Sert desde España. Se valora asimismo la continuidad de sus ideas en exposiciones sobre temas similares realizadas posteriormente, como “Architettura spontanea” comisariada por Giancarlo De Carlo y “Architecture without Architects” dirigida por Bernard Rudofsky.

This contribution examines the latest novel by Carlo Sgorlon, completed on June 24, 2008, but published posthumously, ten years after the author’s death: L’isola di Brendano ( Brendano’s Island). The book introduces character types dear to the Italian writer: Brendano Mac Finnegan, a hard-working and creative architect of Irish origin, who comes from abroad to Vallorsaria, an imaginary town in the Alps, where he falls in love with Antonia, a local woman; Antonia’s young daughter, Jole, who gives birth to a boy endowed with extraordinary powers: Bindo; an Afghan baby sitter, called Fatma, who joins the three above mentioned characters, forming with them a strange but happy family; Brendano’s friend, Amos, who represents a man incapable of positive attitude towards life and destined for a tragic end. With L’isola di Brendano, Sgorlon paid homage to a literary tradition he considered the most genuine, close and familiar to him. In the novel it is possible to identify many references, both explicit and implicit, to various writers, including Samuel Beckett, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Elsa Morante. In this way, L’isola di Brendano resembles the mirror of a small but well-chosen library.

As a scholarly discourse, transmedia storytelling relies heavily on conservative constructions of authorship that laud corporate architects and patriarchs such as George Lucas and J.J. Abrams as exemplars of “the creator.” This piece argues that transmedia theory works to construct patriarchal ideals of individual authorship to the detriment of alternative conceptions of transmediality, storyworlds, and authorship. The genesis for this piece was our struggle to find a transmedia storyworld that we were both familiar with, that also qualifies as “legitimate” transmedia in the eyes of our prospective scholarly readers. After trying to wrangle our various interests, fandoms, and areas of expertise into harmony, we realized we were exerting more effort in this process of validating stories as transmedia than actually examining how stories spread across various platforms, how they make meanings, and what kinds of pleasures they offer audiences. Authorship is a definitive criterion of transmedia storytelling theory; it is also an academic red herring. We were initially interested in investigating the possible overdeterminations between the healthcare industry and Breaking Bad (2008-2013). The series revolves around a high school chemistry teacher who launches a successful meth empire as a way to pay for his cancer treatments that a dysfunctional US healthcare industry refuses to fund. We wondered if the success of the series and the timely debates on healthcare raised in its reception prompted any PR response from or discussion among US health insurers. However, our concern was that this dynamic among medical and media industries would not qualify as transmedia because these exchanges were not authored by Vince Gilligan or any of the credited creators of Breaking Bad. Yet, why shouldn’t such interfaces between the “real world” and media fiction count as part of the transmedia story that is Breaking Bad? Most stories are, in some shape or form, transmedia stories at this stage, and transmedia theory acknowledges there is a long history to this kind of practice (Freeman). Let’s dispense with restrictive definitions of transmediality and turn attention to how storytelling behaves in a digital era, that is, the processes of creating, disseminating and amending stories across many different media, the meanings and forms such media and communications produce, and the pleasures they offer audiences.Can we think about how health insurance companies responded to Breaking Bad in terms of transmedia storytelling? Defining Transmedia Storytelling via AuthorshipThe scholarly concern with defining transmedia storytelling via a strong focus on authorship has traced slight distinctions between seriality, franchising, adaptation and transmedia storytelling (Jenkins, “Transmedia Storytelling;” Johnson, “Media Franchising”). However, the theoretical discourse on authorship itself and these discussions of the tensions between forms are underwritten by a gendered bias. Indeed, the very concept of transmediality may be a gendered backlash against the rising prominence of seriality as a historically feminised mode of storytelling, associated with television and serial novels.Even with the move towards traditionally lowbrow, feminized forms of trans-serial narrative, the majority of academic and popular criticism of transmedia storytelling reproduces and reinstates narratives of male-centred, individual authorship that are historically descended from theorizations of the auteur. Auteur theory, which is still considered a legitimate analytical framework today, emerged in postwar theorizations of Hollywood film by French critics, most prominently in the journal Cahiers du Cinema, and at the nascence of film theory as a field (Cook). Auteur theory surfaced as a way to conceptualise aesthetic variation and value within the Fordist model of the Hollywood studio system (Cook). Directors were identified as the ultimate author or “creative source” if a film sufficiently fitted a paradigm of consistent “vision” across their oeuvre, and they were thus seen as artists challenging the commercialism of the studio system (Cook). In this way, classical auteur theory draws a dichotomy between art and authorship on one side and commerce and corporations on the other, strongly valorising the former for its existence within an industrial context dominated by the latter. In recent decades, auteurist notions have spread from film scholarship to pervade popular discourses of media authorship. Even though transmedia production inherently disrupts notions of authorship by diffusing the act of creation over many different media platforms and texts, much of the scholarship disproportionately chooses to vex over authorship in a manner reminiscent of classical auteur theory.In scholarly terms, a chief distinction between serial storytelling and transmedia storytelling lies in how authorship is constructed in relation to the text: serial storytelling has long been understood as relying on distributed authorship (Hilmes), but transmedia storytelling reveres the individual mastermind, or the master architect who plans and disseminates the storyworld across platforms. Henry Jenkins’ definition of transmedia storytelling is multifaceted and includes, “the systematic dispersal of multiple textual elements across many channels, which reflects the synergies of media conglomeration, based on complex story-worlds, and coordinated authorial design of integrated elements” (Jenkins, “Transmedia Storytelling”). Jenkins is perhaps the most pivotal figure in developing transmedia studies in the humanities to date and a key reference point for most scholars working in this subfield.A key limitation of Jenkins’ definition of transmedia storytelling is its emphasis on authorship, which persists in wider scholarship on transmedia storytelling. Jenkins focuses on the nature of authorship as a key characteristic of transmedia productions that distinguishes them from other kinds of intertextual and serial stories:Because transmedia storytelling requires a high degree of coordination across the different media sectors, it has so far worked best either in independent projects where the same artist shapes the story across all of the media involved or in projects where strong collaboration (or co-creation) is encouraged across the different divisions of the same company. (Jenkins, “Transmedia Storytelling”)Since the texts under discussion are commonly large in their scale, budget, and the number of people employed, it is reductive to credit particular individuals for this work and implicitly dismiss the authorial contributions of many others. Elaborating on the foundation set by Jenkins, Matthew Freeman uses Foucauldian concepts to describe two “author-functions” focused on the role of an author in defining the transmedia text itself and in marketing it (Freeman 36-38). Scott, Evans, Hills, and Hadas similarly view authorial branding as a symbolic industrial strategy significant to transmedia storytelling. Interestingly, M.J. Clarke identifies the ways transmedia television texts invite audiences to imagine a central mastermind, but also thwart and defer this impulse. Ultimately, Freeman argues that identifiable and consistent authorship is a defining characteristic of transmedia storytelling (Freeman 37), and Suzanne Scott argues that transmedia storytelling has “intensified the author’s function” from previous eras (47).Industry definitions of transmediality similarly position authorship as central to transmedia storytelling, and Jenkins’ definition has also been widely mobilised in industry discussions (Jenkins, “Transmedia” 202). This is unsurprising, because defining authorial roles has significant monetary value in terms of remuneration and copyright. In speaking to the Producers Guild of America, Jeff Gomez enumerated eight defining characteristics of transmedia production, the very first of which is, “Content is originated by one or a very few visionaries” (PGA Blog). Gomez’s talk was part of an industry-driven bid to have “Transmedia Producer” recognised by the trade associations as a legitimate and significant role; Gomez was successful and is now recognised as a transmedia producer. Nevertheless, his talk of “visionaries” not only situates authorship as central to transmedia production, but constructs authorship in very conservative, almost hagiographical terms. Indeed, Leora Hadas analyses the function of Joss Whedon’s authorship of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D (2013-) as a branding mechanism and argues that authors are becoming increasingly visible brands associated with transmedia stories.Such a discourse of authorship constructs individual figures as artists and masterminds, in an idealised manner that has been strongly critiqued in the wake of poststructuralism. It even recalls tired scholarly endeavours of divining authorial intention. Unsurprisingly, the figures valorised for their transmedia authorship are predominantly men; the scholarly emphasis on authorship thus reinforces the biases of media industries. Further, it idolises these figures at the expense of unacknowledged and under-celebrated female writers, directors and producers, as well as those creative workers labouring “below the line” in areas like production design, art direction, and special effects. Far from critiquing the biases of industry, academic discourse legitimises and lauds them.We hope that scholarship on transmedia storytelling might instead work to open up discourses of creation, production, authorship, and collaboration. For a story to qualify as transmedia is it even necessary to have an identifiable author? Transmedia texts and storyworlds can be genuinely collaborative or authorless creations, in which the harmony of various creators’ intentions may be unnecessary or even undesirable. Further, industry and academics alike often overlook examples of transmedia storytelling that might be considered “lowbrow.” For example, transmedia definitions should include Antonella the Uncensored Reviewer, a relatively small-scale, forty-something, plus size, YouTube channel producer whose persona is dispersed across multiple formats including beauty product reviews, letter writing, as well as interactive sex advice live casts. What happens when we blur the categories of author, celebrity, brand, and narrative in scholarship? We argue that these roles are substantially blurred in media industries in which authors like J.J. Abrams share the limelight with their stars as well as their corporate affiliations, and all “brands” are sutured to the storyworld text. These various actors all shape and are shaped by the narrative worlds they produce in an author-storyworld nexus, in which authorship includes all people working to produce the storyworld as well as the corporation funding it. Authorship never exists inside the limits of a single, male mind. Rather it is a field of relations among various players and stakeholders. While there is value in delineating between these roles for purposes of analysis and scholarly discussion, we should acknowledge that in the media industry, the roles of various stakeholders are increasingly porous.The current academic discourse of transmedia storytelling reconstructs old social biases and hierarchies in contexts where they might be most vulnerable to breakdown. Scott argues that,despite their potential to demystify and democratize authorship between producers and consumers, transmedia stories tend to reinforce boundaries between ‘official’ and ‘unauthorized’ forms of narrative expansion through the construction of a single author/textual authority figure. (44)Significantly, we suggest that it is the theorisation of transmedia storytelling that reinforces (or in fact constructs anew) an idealised author figure.The gendered dimension of the scholarly distinction between serialised (or trans-serial) and transmedial storytelling builds on a long history in the arts and the academy alike. In fact, an important precursor of transmedia narratives is the serialized novel of the Victorian era. The literature of Charlotte Brontë, George Eliot and Harriet Beecher Stowe was published in serial form and among the most widely read of the Victorian era in Western culture (Easley; Flint 21; Hilmes). Yet, these novels are rarely given proportional credit in what is popularly taught as the Western literary canon. The serial storytelling endemic to television as a medium has similarly been historically dismissed and marginalized as lowbrow and feminine (at least until the recent emergence of notions of the industrial role of the “showrunner” and the critical concept of “quality television”). Joanne Morreale outlines how trans-serial television examples, like The Dick Van Dyke Show, which spread their storyworlds across a number of different television programs, offer important precursors to today’s transmedia franchises (Morreale). In television’s nascent years, the anthology plays of the 1940s and 50s, which were discrete, unconnected hour-length stories, were heralded as cutting-edge, artistic and highbrow while serial narrative forms like the soap opera were denigrated (Boddy 80-92). Crucially, these anthology plays were largely created by and aimed at males, whereas soap operas were often created by and targeted to female audiences. The gendered terms in which various genres and modes of storytelling are discussed have implications for the value assigned to them in criticism, scholarship and culture more broadly (Hilmes; Kuhn; Johnson, “Devaluing”). Transmedia theory, as a scholarly discourse, betrays similarly gendered leanings as early television criticism, in valorising forms of transmedia narration that favour a single, male-bodied, and all-powerful author or corporation, such as George Lucas, Jim Henson or Marvel Comics.George Lucas is often depicted in scholarly and popular discourses as a headstrong transmedia auteur, as in the South Park episode ‘The China Problem’ (2008)A Circle of Men: Fans, Creators, Stories and TheoristsInterestingly, scholarly discourse on transmedia even betrays these gendered biases when exploring the engagement and activity of audiences in relation to transmedia texts. Despite the definitional emphasis on authorship, fan cultures have been a substantial topic of investigation in scholarly studies of transmedia storytelling, with many scholars elevating fans to the status of author, exploring the apparent blurring of these boundaries, and recasting the terms of these relationships (Scott; Dena; Pearson; Stein). Most notably, substantial scholarly attention has traced how transmedia texts cultivate a masculinized, “nerdy” fan culture that identifies with the male-bodied, all-powerful author or corporation (Brooker, Star Wars, Using; Jenkins, Convergence). Whether idealising the role of the creators or audiences, transmedia theory reinforces gendered hierarchies. Star Wars (1977-) is a pivotal corporate transmedia franchise that significantly shaped the convergent trajectory of media industries in the 20th century. As such it is also an anchor point for transmedia scholarship, much of which lauds and legitimates the creative work of fans. However, in focusing so heavily on the macho power struggle between George Lucas and Star Wars fans for authorial control over the storyworld, scholarship unwittingly reinstates Lucas’s status as sole creator rather than treating Star Wars’ authorship as inherently diffuse and porous.Recent fan activity surrounding animated adult science-fiction sitcom Rick and Morty (2013-) further demonstrates the macho culture of transmedia fandom in practice and its fascination with male authors. The animated series follows the intergalactic misadventures of a scientific genius and his grandson. Inspired by a seemingly inconsequential joke on the show, some of its fans began to fetishize a particular, limited-edition fast food sauce. When McDonalds, the actual owner of that sauce, cashed in by promoting the return of its Szechuan Sauce, a macho culture within the show’s fandom reached its zenith in the forms of hostile behaviour at McDonalds restaurants and online (Alexander and Kuchera). Rick and Morty fandom also built a misogynist reputation for its angry responses to the show’s efforts to hire a writer’s room that gave equal representation to women. Rick and Morty trolls doggedly harassed a few of the show’s female writers through 2017 and went so far as to post their private information online (Barsanti). Such gender politics of fan cultures have been the subject of much scholarly attention (Johnson, “Fan-tagonism”), not least in the many conversations hosted on Jenkins’ blog. Gendered performances and readings of fan activity are instrumental in defining and legitimating some texts as transmedia and some creators as masterminds, not only within fandoms but also in the scholarly discourse.When McDonalds promoted the return of their Szechuan Sauce, in response to its mention in the story world of animated sci-fi sitcom Rick and Morty, they contributed to transmedia storytelling.Both Rick and Morty and Star Wars are examples of how masculinist fan cultures, stubborn allegiances to male authorship, and definitions of transmedia converge both in academia and popular culture. While Rick and Morty is, in reality, partly female-authored, much of its media image is still anchored to its two male “creators,” Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Particularly in the context of #MeToo feminism, one wonders how much female authorship has been elided from existing storyworlds and, furthermore, what alternative examples of transmedia narration are exempt from current definitions of transmediality.The individual creator is a social construction of scholarship and popular discourse. This imaginary creator bears little relation to the conditions of creation and production of transmedia storyworlds, which are almost always team written and collectively authored. Further, the focus on writing itself elides the significant contributions of many creators such as those in production design (Bevan). Beyond that, what creative credit do focus groups deserve in shaping transmedia stories and their multi-layered, multi-platformed reaches? Is authorship, or even credit, really the concept we, as scholars, want to invest in when studying these forms of narration and mediation?At more symbolic levels, the seemingly exhaustless popular and scholarly appetite for male-bodied authorship persists within storyworlds themselves. The transmedia examples popularly and academically heralded as “seminal” centre on patrimony, patrilineage, and inheritance (i.e. Star Wars [1977-] and The Lord of the Rings [1937-]). Of course, Harry Potter (2001-2009) is an outlier as the celebrification of J.K. Rowling provides a strong example of credited female authorship. However, this example plays out many of the same issues, albeit the franchise is attached to a woman, in that it precludes many of the other creative minds who have helped shape Harry Potter’s world. How many more billions of dollars need we invest in men writing about the mysteries of how other men spread their genetic material across fictional universes? Moreover, transmedia studies remains dominated by academic men geeking out about how fan men geek out about how male creators write about mostly male characters in stories about … men. There are other stories waiting to be told and studied through the practices and theories of transmedia. These stories might be gender-inclusive and collective in ways that challenge traditional notions of authorship, control, rights, origin, and property.Obsession with male authorship, control, rights, origin, paternity and property is recognisible in scholarship on transmedia storytelling, and also symbolically in many of the most heralded examples of transmedia storytelling, such as the Star Wars saga.Prompting Broader DiscussionThis piece urges the development of broader understandings of transmedia storytelling. A range of media scholarship has already begun this work. Jonathan Gray’s book on paratexts offers an important pathway for such scholarship by legitimating ancillary texts, like posters and trailers, that uniquely straddle promotional and feature content platforms (Gray). A wave of scholars productively explores transmedia storytelling with a focus on storyworlds (Scolari; Harvey), often through the lens of narratology (Ryan; Ryan and Thon). Scolari, Bertetti, and Freeman have drawn together a media archaeological approach and a focus on transmedia characters in an innovative way. We hope to see greater proliferation of focuses and perspectives for the study of transmedia storytelling, including investigations that connect fictional and non-fictional worlds and stories, and a more inclusive variety of life experiences.Conversely, new scholarship on media authorship provides fresh directions, models, methods, and concepts for examining the complexity and messiness of this topic. A growing body of scholarship on the functions of media branding is also productive for reconceptualising notions of authorship in transmedia storytelling (Bourdaa; Dehry Kurtz and Bourdaa). Most notably, A Companion to Media Authorship edited by Gray and Derek Johnson productively interrogates relationships between creative processes, collaborative practices, production cultures, industrial structures, legal frameworks, and theoretical approaches around media authorship. Its case studies begin the work of reimagining of the role of authorship in transmedia, and pave the way for further developments (Burnett; Gordon; Hilmes; Stein). In particular, Matt Hills’s case study of how “counter-authorship” was negotiated on Torchwood (2006-2011) opens up new ways of thinking about multiple authorship and the variety of experiences, contributions, credits, and relationships this encompasses. Johnson’s Media Franchising addresses authorship in a complex way through a focus on social interactions, without making it a defining feature of the form; it would be significant to see a similar scholarly treatment of transmedia. At the very least, scholarly attention might turn its focus away from the very patriarchal activity of discussing definitions among a coterie and, instead, study the process of spreadability of male-centred transmedia storyworlds (Jenkins, Ford, and Green). Given that transmedia is not historically unique to the digital age, scholars might instead study how spreadability changes with the emergence of digitality and convergence, rather than pontificating on definitions of adaptation versus transmedia and cinema versus media.We urge transmedia scholars to distance their work from the malignant gender politics endemic to the media industries and particularly global Hollywood. The confluence of gendered agendas in both academia and media industries works to reinforce patriarchal hierarchies. The humanities should offer independent analysis and critique of how media industries and products function, and should highlight opportunities for conceiving of, creating, and treating such media practices and texts in new ways. As such, it is problematic that discourses on transmedia commonly neglect the distinction between what defines transmediality and what constitutes good examples of transmedia. This blurs the boundaries between description and prescription, taxonomy and hierarchy, analysis and evaluation, and definition and taste. Such discourses blinker us to what we might consider to be transmedia, but also to what examples of “good” transmedia storytelling might look like.Transmedia theory focuses disproportionately on authorship. This restricts a comprehensive understanding of transmedia storytelling, limits the lenses we bring to it, obstructs the ways we evaluate transmedia stories, and impedes how we imagine the possibilities for both media and storytelling. Stories have always been transmedial. What changes with the inception of transmedia theory is that men can claim credit for the stories and for all the work that many people do across various sectors and industries. It is questionable whether authorship is important to transmedia, in which creation is most often collective, loosely planned (at best) and diffused across many people, skill sets, and sectors. 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As Earth heats up and water vapourises, “Adapt” is a word that is frequently invoked right now, in a world seething with change and challenge. Its Oxford English Dictionary definitions—“to fit, to make suitable; to alter so as to fit for a new use”—give little hint of the strangely divergent moral values associated with its use. There is, of course, the word’s unavoidable Darwinian connotations which, in spite of creationist controversy, communicate a cluster of positive values linked with progress. By contrast, the literary use of adapt is frequently linked with negative moral values. Even in our current “hyper-adaptive environment” (Rizzo)—in which a novel can become a theme park ride can become a film can become a computer game can become a novelisation—an adaptation is seen as a debasement of an original, inauthentic, inferior, parasitic (Hutcheon, 2-3). A starting point from which to explore the word’s “positive”—that is, evolutionary—use is the recently released Stern Review: The Economics of Climate Change, which argues the necessity of adapting in order to survive. Indeed, an entire section is titled “Policy responses for adaptation,” outlining—among other things—“an economic framework for adaptation”; “barriers and constraints to adaptation”; and “how developing countries can adapt to climate change” (403). Although evolution is not directly mentioned, it is evoked through the review’s analysis of a dire situation which compels humans to change in response to their changing environment. Yet the mere existence of the review, and its enumeration of problems and solutions, suggests that human adaptive abilities are up to the task, drawing on positive traits such as resilience, flexibility, agility, innovation, creativity, progressiveness, appropriateness, and so on. These values, and their connection to the evolutionary use of “adapt”, infuse 21st-century life. “Adapt,” “evolution”, and that cluster of values are entwined so closely that recalling effort is required to remind oneself that “adapt” existed before evolutionary theory. And whether or not one accepts the premise of evolution—or even understands it beyond the level of reductive popular science—it provides an irresistible metaphor that underlies areas as diverse as education, business, organisational culture, politics, and law. For example, Judith Robinson’s article “Education as the Foundation of the New Economy” quotes Canada’s former deputy prime minister John Manley: “The future holds nothing but change. … Charles Darwin said, ‘It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the most responsive to change.’” Robinson adds: “Education is how we equip our people with the ability to adapt to change.” Further examples show “adapt” as a positive metaphor for government. A study into towns in rural Queensland discovered that while some towns “have reinvented themselves and are thriving,” others “that are not innovative or adaptable” are in decline (Plowman, Ashkanasy, Gardner and Letts, 8). The Queensland Government’s Smart State Strategy also refers to the desirability of adapting: “The pace of change in the world is now so rapid—and sometimes so unpredictable—that our best prospects for maintaining our lead lie in our agility, flexibility and adaptability.” The Australian Government Department of Education, Science and Training, in setting national research priorities, identifies “An Environmentally Sustainable Australia” and in that context specifically mentions the need to adapt: “there needs to be an increased understanding of the contributions of human behaviour to environmental and climate change, and on [sic] appropriate adaptive responses and strategies.” In the corporate world, the Darwinian allusion is explicit in book titles such as Geoffrey Moore’s 2005 Dealing with Darwin: How Great Companies Innovate at Every Phase of their Evolution: “Moore’s theme is innovation, which he sees as being necessary to the survival of business as a plant or animal adapting to changes in habitat” (Johnson). Within organisations, the metaphor is also useful, for instance in D. Keith Denton’s article, “What Darwin Can Teach Us about Success:” “In order to understand how to create and manage adaptability, we need to look first at how nature uses it. … Species that fail to adapt have only one option left.” That option is extinction, which is the fate of “over 99% of all species that have ever existed.” However, any understanding of “adapt” as wholly positive and forward-moving is too simplistic. It ignores, for example, aspects of adaptation that are dangerous to people (such as the way the avian influenza virus or simian AIDS can adapt so that humans can become their hosts). Bacteria rapidly adapt to antibiotics; insects rapidly adapt to pesticides. Furthermore, an organism that is exquisitely adapted to a specific niche becomes vulnerable with even a small disturbance in its environment. The high attrition rate of species is breathtakingly “wasteful” and points to the limitations of the evolutionary metaphor. Although corporations and education have embraced the image, it is unthinkable that any corporation or educational system would countenance either evolution’s tiny adaptive adjustments over a long period of time, or the high “failure” rate. Furthermore, evolution can only be considered “progress” if there is an ultimate goal towards which evolution is progressing: the anthropocentric viewpoint that holds that “the logical and inevitable endpoint of the evolutionary process is the human individual,” as Rizzo puts it. This suggests that the “positive” values connected with this notion of “adapt” are a form of self-congratulation among those who consider themselves the “survivors”. A hierarchy of evolution-thought places “agile,” “flexible” “adaptors” at the top, while at the bottom of the hierarchy are “stagnant,” “atrophied” “non-adaptors”. The “positive” values then form the basis for exclusionary prejudices directed at those human and non-human beings seen as being “lower” on the evolutionary scale. Here we have arrived at Social Darwinism, the Great-Chain-of-Being perspective, Manifest Destiny—all of which still justify many kinds of unjust treatment of humans, animals, and ecosystems. Literary or artistic meanings of “adapt”—although similarly based on hierarchical thinking (Shiloh)—are, as mentioned earlier, frequently laden with negative moral values. Directly contrasting with the evolutionary adaptation we have just discussed, value in literary adaptation is attached to “being first” rather than to the success of successors. Invidious dichotomies that actually reverse the moral polarity of Darwinian adaptation come into play: “authentic” versus “fake”, “original” versus “copy”, “strong” versus “weak”, “superior” versus “inferior”. But, as the authors collected in this issue demonstrate, the assignment of a moral value to evolutionary “adapt”, and another to literary “adapt”, is too simplistic. The film Adaptation (Spike Jonze, 2002)—discussed in three articles in this issue—deals with both these uses of the word, and provides the impetus to these authors’ explorations of possible connections and contrasts between them. Evidence of the pervasiveness of the concept is seen in the work of other writers, who explore the same issues in a range of cultural phenomena, such as graffiti, music sampling, a range of activities in and around the film industry, and several forms of identity formation. A common theme is the utter inadequacy of a single moral value being assigned to “adapt”. For example, McMerrin quotes Ghandi in her paper: “Adaptability is not imitation. It means power of resistance and assimilation.” Shiloh argues: “If all texts quote or embed fragments of earlier texts, the notion of an authoritative literary source, which the cinematic version should faithfully reproduce, is no longer valid.” Furnica, citing Rudolf Arnheim, points out that an adaptation “increases our understanding of the adapted work.” All of which suggests that the application of “adapt” to circumstances of culture and nature suggests an “infinite onion” both of adaptations and of the “core samples of difference” that are the inevitable corollary of this issue’s theme. To drill down into the products of culture, to peel back the “facts” of nature, is only ever to encounter additional and increasingly minute variations of the activity of “adapt”. One never hits the bottom of difference and adaptation. Still, why would you want to, when the stakes of “adapt” might be little different from the stakes of life itself? At least, this is the insight that the philosophy of Gilles Deleuze—in all its rhizomatic variations—seems constantly to be leading us towards: “Life” (capitalised) is a continual germination that feeds on a thousand tiny adaptations of open-ended desire and of a ceaselessly productive mode of difference. Besides everything else that they do, all of the articles in this issue participate—in one way or another—in this notion of “adapt” as a constant impetus towards new configurations of culture and of nature. They are the proof (if such proof were to be requested or required) that the “infinite onion” of adaptation and difference, while certainly a mise en abyme, is much more a positive “placing into infinity” than a negative “placing into the abyss.” Adaptation is nothing to be feared; stasis alone spells death. What this suggests, furthermore, is that a contemporary ethics of difference and alterity might not go far wrong if it were to adopt “adapt” as its signature experience. To be ever more sensitive to the subtle nuances, to the evanescences on the cusp of nothingness … of adaptation … is perhaps to place oneself at the leading edge of cultural activity, where the boundaries of self and other have, arguably, never been more fraught. Again, all of the contributors to this issue dive—“Alice-like”—down their own particular rabbit holes, in order to bring back to the surface something previously unthought or unrecognised. However, two recent trends in the sciences and humanities—or rather at the complex intersection of these disciplines—might serve as useful, generalised frameworks for the work on “adapt” that this issue pursues. The first of these is the upwelling of interest (contra Darwinism) in the theories of Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744-1829). For Lamarck, adaptation takes a deviation from the Darwinian view of Natural Selection. Lamarckism holds, in distinction from Darwin, that the characteristics acquired by individuals in the course of their (culturally produced) lifetimes can be transmitted down the generations. If your bandy-legged great-grandfather learnt to bend it like Beckham, for example, then Manchester United would do well to sign you up in the cradle. Lamarck’s ideas are an encouragement to gather up, for cultural purposes, ever more refined understandings of “adapt”. What this pro-Lamarckian movement also implies is a new “crossing-over point” of the natural/biological with the cultural/acquired. The second trend to be highlighted here, however, does more than merely imply such a refreshed configuration of nature and culture. Elizabeth Grosz’s recent work directly calls the bluff of the traditional Darwinian (not to mention Freudian) understanding of “biology as destiny”. In outline form, we propose that she does this by running together notions of biological difference (the male/female split) with the “ungrounded” difference of Deleuzean thinking and its derivatives. Adaptation thus shakes free, on Grosz’s reading, from the (Darwinian and Freudian) vestiges of biological determinism and becomes, rather, a productive mode of (cultural) difference. Grosz makes the further move of transporting such a “shaken and stirred” version of biological difference into the domains of artistic “excess”, on the basis that “excessive” display (as in the courting rituals of the male peacock) is fundamentally crucial to those Darwinian axioms centred on the survival of the species. By a long route, therefore, we are returned, through Grosz, to the interest in art and adaptation that has, for better or for worse, tended to dominate studies of “adapt”, and which this issue also touches upon. But Grosz returns us to art very differently, which points the way, perhaps, to as yet barely recognised new directions in the field of adaptation studies. We ask, then, where to from here? Responding to this question, we—the editors of this issue—are keen to build upon the groundswell of interest in 21st-century adaptation studies with an international conference, entitled “Adaptation & Application”, to be held on the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia in early 2009. The “Application” part of this title reflects, among other things, the fact that our conference will be, perhaps uniquely, itself an example of “adapt”, to the extent that it will have two parallel but also interlocking strands: adaptation; application. Forward-thinking architects Arakawa and Gins have expressed an interest in being part of this event. (We also observe, in passing, that “application”, or “apply”, may be an excellent theme for a future issue of M/C Journal…) Those interested in knowing more about the “Adaptation and Application” conference may contact either of us on the email addresses given in our biographical notes. There are several groups and individuals that deserve public acknowledgement here. Of course, we thank the authors of these fourteen articles for their stimulating and reflective contributions to the various debates around “adapt”. We would also like to acknowledge the hugely supportive efforts of our hard-pressed referees. Equally, our gratitude goes out to those respondents to our call for papers whose submissions could not be fitted into this already overflowing issue. What they sent us kept the standard high, and many of the articles rejected for publication on this occasion will, we feel sure, soon find a wider audience in another venue (the excellent advice provided by our referees has an influence, in this way, beyond the life of this issue). We also wish to offer a very special note of thanks to Linda Hutcheon, who took time out from her exceptionally busy schedule to contribute the feature article for this issue. Her recent monograph A Theory of Adaptation is essential reading for all serious scholars of “adapt”, as is her contribution here. We are honoured to have Professor Hutcheon’s input into our project. Special thanks are also due to Gold-Coast based visual artist Judy Anderson for her “adaptation of adaptation” into a visual motif for our cover image. This inspiring piece is entitled “Between Two” (2005; digital image on cotton paper). Accessing experiences perhaps not accessible through words alone, Anderson’s image nevertheless “speaks adaptation”, as her Artist’s Statement suggests: The surface for me is a sensual encounter; an event, shifting form. As an eroticised site, it evokes memories of touch. … Body, object, place are woven together with memory; forgetting and remembering. The tactility and materiality of touching the surface is offered back to the viewer. These images are transitions themselves. As places of slippage and adaptation, they embody intervals on many levels; between the material and the immaterial, the familiar and the strange. Their source remains obscure so that they might represent spaces in-between—overlooked places that open up unexpectedly. If we have learned just one thing from the experience of editing the M/C Journal ‘adapt’ issue, it is that our theme richly rewards the sort of intellectual and creative activity demonstrated by our contributors. Much has been done here; much remains to be done. Some of this work will take place, no doubt, at the “Adaptation and Application” conference, and we hope to see many of you on the Gold Coast in 2009. But for now, it’s over to you, to engage with what you might encounter here, and to work new “adaptations” upon it. References Australian Government Department of Education, Science and Training. Environmentally Sustainable Australia. 2005. 28 Apr. 2007 http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/research_sector/policies_issues_reviews /key_issues/national_research_priorities/priority_goals /environmentally_sustainable_australia.htm>. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaux. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987. Denton, D Keith. “What Darwin Can Teach Us about Success.” Development and Learning in Organizations 20.1 (2006): 7ff. Furnica, Ioana. “Subverting the ‘Good, Old Tune’: Carlos Saura’s Carmen Adaptation.” M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). 28 Apr. 2007 . Grosz, Elizabeth. In the Nick of Time: Politics, Evolution and the Untimely. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004. Grosz, Elizabeth. “Sensation”. Plenary III Session. 9th Annual Comparative Literature Conference. Gilles Deleuze: Texts and Images: An International Conference. University of South Carolina, Columbia. 7 April 2007. Grosz, Elizabeth. Time Travels: Feminism, Nature, Power. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. Hutcheon, Linda. A Theory of Adaptation. New York and London: Routledge, 2006. Johnson, Cecil. “Darwinian Notions of Corporate Innovation,” Boston Globe, 15 Jan. 2006: L.2. McMerrin, Michelle. “Agency in Adaptation.” M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). 28 Apr. 2007 http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/03 mcmerrin.php mcmerrin.php>. Neimanis, Astrida. “A Feminist Deleuzian Politics? It’s About Time.” TOPIA: Canadian Journal of Cultural Studies 16 (2006): 154-8. Plowman, Ian, Neal M. Ashkanasy, John Gardner, and Malcolm Letts. Innovation in Rural Queensland: Why Some Towns Thrive while Others Languish: Main Report. University of Queensland/Department of Primary Industries. Queensland, Dec. 2003. 28 Apr. 2007 http://www2.dpi.qld.gov.au/business/14778.html>. Queensland Government. Smart State Strategy 2005-2015 Timeframe. 2007. 28 Apr. 2007 http://www.smartstate.qld.gov.au/strategy/strategy05_15/timeframes.shtm>. Rizzo, Sergio. “Adaptation and the Art of Survival.” M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). 28 Apr. 2007 http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/02-rizzo.php>. Shiloh, Ilana. “Adaptation, Intertextuality, and the Endless Deferral of Meaning: Memento.” M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). 28 Apr. 2007 http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/08-shiloh.php>. Stern Review: The Economics of Climate Change. 2006. 28 Apr. 2007 http://www.hm-treasury.gov.uk/independent_reviews/stern_review_ economics_climate_change/stern_review_report.cfm>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Delamoir, Jeannette, and Patrick West. "Editorial." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/00-editorial.php>. APA Style Delamoir, J., and P. West. (May 2007) "Editorial," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/00-editorial.php>.

Image 1: “Oklahoma State Highway Re-imagined.” CC BY-SA 4.0 2015 by author, using Wikimedia image by Ks0stm (CC BY-SA 3 2013). Introduction This article is divided in three major parts. First a scenario, second its context, and third, an analysis. The text draws on ethnographic research on security practices in the United States among police and parts of the intelligence community from 2006 through to the beginning of 2014. Real names are used when the material is drawn from archival sources, while individuals who were interviewed during fieldwork are referred to by their position rank or title. For matters of fact not otherwise referenced, see the sources compiled on “The Complete 911 Timeline” at History Commons. First, a scenario. Oklahoma, 2001 It is 1 April 2001, in far western Oklahoma, warm beneath the late afternoon sun. Highway Patrol Trooper C.L. Parkins is about 80 kilometres from the border of Texas, watching trucks and cars speed along Interstate 40. The speed limit is around 110 kilometres per hour, and just then, his radar clocks a blue Toyota Corolla going 135 kph. The driver is not wearing a seatbelt. Trooper Parkins swung in behind the vehicle, and after a while signalled that the car should pull over. The driver was dark-haired and short; in Parkins’s memory, he spoke English without any problem. He asked the man to come sit in the patrol car while he did a series of routine checks—to see if the vehicle was stolen, if there were warrants out for his arrest, if his license was valid. Parkins said, “I visited with him a little bit but I just barely remember even having him in my car. You stop so many people that if […] you don't arrest them or anything […] you don't remember too much after a couple months” (Clay and Ellis). Nawaf Al Hazmi had a valid California driver’s license, with an address in San Diego, and the car’s registration had been legally transferred to him by his former roommate. Parkins’s inquiries to the National Crime Information Center returned no warnings, nor did anything seem odd in their interaction. So the officer wrote Al Hazmi two tickets totalling $138, one for speeding and one for failure to use a seat belt, and told him to be on his way. Al Hazmi, for his part, was crossing the country to a new apartment in a Virginia suburb of Washington, DC, and upon arrival he mailed the payment for his tickets to the county court clerk in Oklahoma. Over the next five months, he lived several places on the East Coast: going to the gym, making routine purchases, and taking a few trips that included Las Vegas and Florida. He had a couple more encounters with local law enforcement and these too were unremarkable. On 1 May 2001 he was mugged, and promptly notified the police, who documented the incident with his name and local address (Federal Bureau of Investigation, 139). At the end of June, having moved to New Jersey, he was involved in a minor traffic accident on the George Washington Bridge, and officers again recorded his real name and details of the incident. In July, Khalid Al Mihdhar, the previous owner of the car, returned from abroad, and joined Al Hazmi in New Jersey. The two were boyhood friends, and they went together to a library several times to look up travel information, and then, with Al Hazmi’s younger brother Selem, to book their final flight. On 11 September, the three boarded American Airlines flight 77 as part of the Al Qaeda team that flew the mid-sized jet into the west façade of the Pentagon. They died along with the piloting hijacker, all the passengers, and 125 people on the ground. Theirs was one of four airplanes hijacked that day, one of which was crashed by passengers, the others into significant sites of American power, by men who had been living for varying lengths of time all but unnoticed in the United States. No one thought that Trooper Parkins, or the other officers with whom the 9/11 hijackers crossed paths, should have acted differently. The Commissioner of the Oklahoma Department of Public Safety himself commented that the trooper “did the right thing” at that April traffic stop. And yet, interviewed by a local newspaper in January of 2002, Parkins mused to the reporter “it's difficult sometimes to think back and go: 'What if you had known something else?'" (Clay and Ellis). Missed Opportunities Image 2: “Hijackers Timeline (Redacted).” CC BY-SA 4.0 2015 by author, using the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)’s “Working Draft Chronology of Events for Hijackers and Associates”. In fact, several of the men who would become the 9/11 hijackers were stopped for minor traffic violations. Mohamed Atta, usually pointed to as the ringleader, was given a citation in Florida that spring of 2001 for driving without a license. When he missed his court date, a bench warrant was issued (Wall Street Journal). Perhaps the warrant was not flagged properly, however, since nothing happened when he was pulled over again, for speeding. In the government inquiries that followed attack, and in the press, these brushes with the law were “missed opportunities” to thwart the 9/11 plot (Kean and Hamilton, Report 353). Among a certain set of career law enforcement personnel, particularly those active in management and police associations, these missed opportunities were fraught with a sense of personal failure. Yet, in short order, they were to become a source of professional revelation. The scenarios—Trooper Parkins and Al Hazmi, other encounters in other states, the general fact that there had been chance meetings between police officers and the hijackers—were re-imagined in the aftermath of 9/11. Those moments were returned to and reversed, so that multiple potentialities could be seen, beyond or in addition to what had taken place. The deputy director of an intelligence fusion centre told me in an interview, “it is always a local cop who saw something” and he replayed how the incidents of contact had unfolded with the men. These scenarios offered a way to recapture the past. In the uncertainty of every encounter, whether a traffic stop or questioning someone taking photos of a landmark (and potential terrorist target), was also potential. Through a process of re-imagining, police encounters with the public became part of the government’s “national intelligence” strategy. Previously a division had been marked between foreign and domestic intelligence. While the phrase “national intelligence” had long been used, notably in National Intelligence Estimates, after 9/11 it became more significant. The overall director of the US intelligence community became the Director National Intelligence, for instance, and the cohesive term marked the way that increasingly diverse institutional components, types of data and forms of action were evolving to address the collection of data and intelligence production (McConnell). In a series of working groups mobilised by members of major police professional organisations, and funded by the US Department of Justice, career officers and representatives from federal agencies produced detailed recommendations and plans for involving police in the new Information Sharing Environment. Among the plans drawn up during this period was what would eventually come to be the Nationwide Suspicious Activity Reporting Initiative, built principally around the idea of encounters such as the one between Parkins and Al Hazmi. Map 1: Map of pilot sites in the Nationwide Suspicious Activity Reporting Evaluation Environment in 2010 (courtesy of the author; no longer available online). Map 2: Map of participating sites in the Nationwide Suspicious Activity Reporting Initiative, as of 2014. In an interview, a fusion centre director who participated in this planning as well as its implementation, told me that his thought had been, “if we train state and local cops to understand pre-terrorism indicators, if we train them to be more curious, and to question more what they see,” this could feed into “a system where they could actually get that information to somebody where it matters.” In devising the reporting initiative, the working groups counter-actualised the scenarios of those encounters, and the kinds of larger plots to which they were understood to belong, in order to extract a set of concepts: categories of suspicious “activities” or “patterns of behaviour” corresponding to the phases of a terrorism event in the process of becoming (Deleuze, Negotiations). This conceptualisation of terrorism was standardised, so that it could be taught, and applied, in discerning and documenting the incidents comprising an event’s phases. In police officer training, the various suspicious behaviours were called “terrorism precursor activities” and were divided between criminal and non-criminal. “Functional Standards,” developed by the Los Angeles Police Department and then tested by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), served to code the observed behaviours for sharing (via compatible communication protocols) up the federal hierarchy and also horizontally between states and regions. In the popular parlance of videos made for the public by local police departments and DHS, which would come to populate the internet within a few years, these categories were “signs of terrorism,” more specifically: surveillance, eliciting information, testing security, and so on. Image 3: “The Seven Signs of Terrorism (sometimes eight).” CC BY-SA 4.0 2015 by author, using materials in the public domain. If the problem of 9/11 had been that the men who would become hijackers had gone unnoticed, the basic idea of the Suspicious Activity Reporting Initiative was to create a mechanism through which the eyes and ears of everyone could contribute to their detection. In this vein, “If You See Something, Say Something™” was a campaign that originated with the New York City Metropolitan Transportation Authority, and was then licensed for use to DHS. The tips and leads such campaigns generated, together with the reports from officers on suspicious incidents that might have to do with terrorism, were coordinated in the Information Sharing Environment. Drawing on reports thus generated, the Federal Government would, in theory, communicate timely information on security threats to law enforcement so that they would be better able to discern the incidents to be reported. The cycle aimed to catch events in emergence, in a distinctively anticipatory strategy of counterterrorism (Stalcup). Re-imagination A curious fact emerges from this history, and it is key to understanding how this initiative developed. That is, there was nothing suspicious in the encounters. The soon-to-be terrorists’ licenses were up-to-date, the cars were legal, they were not nervous. Even Mohamed Atta’s warrant would have resulted in nothing more than a fine. It is not self-evident, given these facts, how a governmental technology came to be designed from these scenarios. How––if nothing seemed of immediate concern, if there had been nothing suspicious to discern––did an intelligence strategy come to be assembled around such encounters? Evidently, strident demands were made after the events of 9/11 to know, “what went wrong?” Policies were crafted and implemented according to the answers given: it was too easy to obtain identification, or to enter and stay in the country, or to buy airplane tickets and fly. But the trooper’s question, the reader will recall, was somewhat different. He had said, “It’s difficult sometimes to think back and go: ‘What if you had known something else?’” To ask “what if you had known something else?” is also to ask what else might have been. Janet Roitman shows that identifying a crisis tends to implicate precisely the question of what went wrong. Crisis, and its critique, take up history as a series of right and wrong turns, bad choices made between existing dichotomies (90): liberty-security, security-privacy, ordinary-suspicious. It is to say, what were the possibilities and how could we have selected the correct one? Such questions seek to retrospectively uncover latencies—systemic or structural, human error or a moral lapse (71)—but they ask of those latencies what false understanding of the enemy, of threat, of priorities, allowed a terrible thing to happen. “What if…?” instead turns to the virtuality hidden in history, through which missed opportunities can be re-imagined. Image 4: “The Cholmondeley Sisters and Their Swaddled Babies.” Anonymous, c. 1600-1610 (British School, 17th century); Deleuze and Parnet (150). CC BY-SA 4.0 2015 by author, using materials in the public domain. Gilles Deleuze, speaking with Claire Parnet, says, “memory is not an actual image which forms after the object has been perceived, but a virtual image coexisting with the actual perception of the object” (150). Re-imagined scenarios take up the potential of memory, so that as the trooper’s traffic stop was revisited, it also became a way of imagining what else might have been. As Immanuel Kant, among others, points out, “the productive power of imagination is […] not exactly creative, for it is not capable of producing a sense representation that was never given to our faculty of sense; one can always furnish evidence of the material of its ideas” (61). The “memory” of these encounters provided the material for re-imagining them, and thereby re-virtualising history. This was different than other governmental responses, such as examining past events in order to assess the probable risk of their repetition, or drawing on past events to imagine future scenarios, for use in exercises that identify vulnerabilities and remedy deficiencies (Anderson). Re-imagining scenarios of police-hijacker encounters through the question of “what if?” evoked what Erin Manning calls “a certain array of recognizable elastic points” (39), through which options for other movements were invented. The Suspicious Activity Reporting Initiative’s architects instrumentalised such moments as they designed new governmental entities and programs to anticipate terrorism. For each element of the encounter, an aspect of the initiative was developed: training, functional standards, a way to (hypothetically) get real-time information about threats. Suspicion was identified as a key affect, one which, if cultivated, could offer a way to effectively deal not with binary right or wrong possibilities, but with the potential which lies nestled in uncertainty. The “signs of terrorism” (that is, categories of “terrorism precursor activities”) served to maximise receptivity to encounters. Indeed, it can apparently create an oversensitivity, manifested, for example, in police surveillance of innocent people exercising their right to assemble (Madigan), or the confiscation of photographers’s equipment (Simon). “What went wrong?” and “what if?” were different interrogations of the same pre-9/11 incidents. The questions are of course intimately related. Moments where something went wrong are when one is likely to ask, what else might have been known? Moreover, what else might have been? The answers to each question informed and shaped the other, as re-imagined scenarios became the means of extracting categories of suspicious activities and patterns of behaviour that comprise the phases of an event in becoming. Conclusion The 9/11 Commission, after two years of investigation into the causes of the disastrous day, reported that “the most important failure was one of imagination” (Kean and Hamilton, Summary). The iconic images of 9/11––such as airplanes being flown into symbols of American power––already existed, in guises ranging from fictive thrillers to the infamous FBI field memo sent to headquarters on Arab men learning to fly, but not land. In 1974 there had already been an actual (failed) attempt to steal a plane and kill the president by crashing it into the White House (Kean and Hamilton, Report Ch11 n21). The threats had been imagined, as Pat O’Malley and Philip Bougen put it, but not how to govern them, and because the ways to address those threats had been not imagined, they were discounted as matters for intervention (29). O’Malley and Bougen argue that one effect of 9/11, and the general rise of incalculable insecurities, was to make it necessary for the “merely imaginable” to become governable. Images of threats from the mundane to the extreme had to be conjured, and then imagination applied again, to devise ways to render them amenable to calculation, minimisation or elimination. In the words of the 9/11 Commission, the Government must bureaucratise imagination. There is a sense in which this led to more of the same. Re-imagining the early encounters reinforced expectations for officers to do what they already do, that is, to be on the lookout for suspicious behaviours. Yet, the images of threat brought forth, in their mixing of memory and an elastic “almost,” generated their own momentum and distinctive demands. Existing capacities, such as suspicion, were re-shaped and elaborated into specific forms of security governance. The question of “what if?” and the scenarios of police-hijacker encounter were particularly potent equipment for this re-imagining of history and its re-virtualisation. References Anderson, Ben. “Preemption, Precaution, Preparedness: Anticipatory Action and Future Geographies.” Progress in Human Geography 34.6 (2010): 777-98. Clay, Nolan, and Randy Ellis. “Terrorist Ticketed Last Year on I-40.” NewsOK, 20 Jan. 2002. 25 Nov. 2014 ‹http://newsok.com/article/2779124›. Deleuze, Gilles. Negotiations. New York: Columbia UP, 1995. Deleuze, Gilles, and Claire Parnet. Dialogues II. New York: Columbia UP 2007 [1977]. 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