Journal articles on the topic 'Dress's typology'

Le présent article examine successivement deux grandes questions que pose la toponymie en tant que référentiel identitaire. Dans un premier temps, et après avoir évoqué l’évolution récente de la toponymie qui en a établi les fondements en tant que science transdisciplinaire autonome, nous identifions les apories identificatoires auxquelles se heurte toute tentative d’inventaire exhaustif d’une toponymie s’appuyant sur la langue et sur la culture en situation multilingue et de partage d’un territoire. Nous dressons une typologie des entraves qui gênent l’identification des noms géographiques en relation avec une culture cible. Enfin, nous illustrons comment toute tentative en vue de dresser la nomenclature exhaustive d’un patrimoine toponymique culturel identitaire conduit à dénouer l’écheveau d’un capital hétérogène marqué du sceau de l’interculturalité. Aux fins d’illustration, nous prenons à témoin les obstacles rencontrés lors de l’inventaire des 2 500 toponymes d’origine et d’influence françaises identifiés en Saskatchewan, province sise au centre du Canada. Ces toponymes serviront également d’exemples.

Premièrement, nous présentons le concept de pragmatème. Deuxièmement, nous en dressons une typologie basée sur une dizaine d’axes de variation diasystématique. Troisièmement, nous abordons le traitement lexicographique du pragmatème en considérant successivement les questions liées à la macrostructure (comme la lemmatisation, le choix de la forme canonique, la reconstitution du paradigme du pragmatème…) et à la microstructure (les champs d’information lexicographique qui doivent être considérés, la structure morphosyntaxique, l’acte de parole, la situation de communication, le domaine, les fonctions lexicales, la réplique…). Finalement, nous discutons quelques aspects liés à la mesostructure, particulièrement la synonymie, l’antonymie et l’équivalence intersémiotique.

Résumé Le présent article se penche sur le rôle de la définition et en dresse une typologie des types et des principaux défauts. On expose ensuite les résultats d'un volet de la recherche effectuée en 1993 par le CTB à la demande du ministère des Technologies nouvelles et de l'Emploi de la Région wallonne de Belgique. Enfin, on présente quelques recommandations à l'usage des auteurs de définitions.

Résumé En terminographie multilingue, la perspective notionnelle implique des choix si l'on entend décrire l'idiomaticité. L'auteur dresse une typologie des problèmes de traduction posés par les expressions idiomatiques dans le domaine de la navigation et propose de décrire celles-ci comme des notions à par entière. Dans une base de données relationnelles, la présence d'un lien dit idiomatique devrait permettre de lier chaque expression aux termes qu'elle utilise, de manière à faciliter la recherche d'une traduction.

This article examines public policies and development of institutions at the U.S.– Mexico border related to the progression of cross-border health governance. Establishing interlinkages between health and security aspects of the border collaboration, I systematically present a descriptive panorama of the problems inherent to cross-border health governance and analyze institutional perspectives and border typology. As borders continue to change with time, cross-border collaboration continues to be shaped and redefined. In analyzing the challenges facing the border today, what would effective cross-border governance entail? Who are the actors and what are the processes that may facilitate cross-border health governance? Spanish Este artículo examina las políticas públicas y el desarrollo de las instituciones en la frontera México-Estados Unidos en relación con la progresión de la gobernanza sanitaria transfronteriza. Estableciendo vínculos entre el sector salud y los aspectos de seguridad de la colaboración transfronteriza, la autora presenta sistemáticamente un panorama descriptivo de los problemas inherentes a la gobernanza sanitaria transfronteriza y analiza las perspectivas institucionales y la tipología de frontera. Como las fronteras continúan cambiando con el tiempo, la colaboración transfronteriza continúa redefiniéndose y tomando forma. En el análisis de los desafíos que enfrenta la frontera hoy, ¿qué implicaría una gobernanza transfronteriza eficaz? ¿Quiénes son los actores y procesos que facilitarían la gobernanza sanitaria transfronteriza? French Cet article examine les politiques publiques et les développements institutionnels survenus à la frontière américano-mexicaine dans le domaine de la gouvernance sanitaire transfrontalière. En établissant des liens entre la santé et les aspects sécuritaires de la collaboration transfrontalière, j'entends ainsi dresser un panorama descriptif des problèmes inhérents à la gouvernance sanitaire transfrontalière, tout en analysant les perspectives institutionnelles et la typologie des frontières. Alors que les frontières continuent d'évoluer avec le temps, la collaboration transfrontalière ne cesse continuellement de se façonner et se redéfinir. Au regard des défis actuels de la frontière, quels enjeux impliquent une gouvernance transfrontalière efficace? Qui sont les acteurs et lesquels sont susceptibles de faciliter la gouvernance de la santé transfrontalière?

Christmas pantomime, that peculiarly English form whose uncertain origins go back to the early eighteenth century, has evolved its own distinctive typology of cross-dressed characters, with a Principal Boy who is a girl, a Dame who is indisputably male, and even those humanoid visitors from the animal kingdom known as ‘skin parts’. David Mayer explored ‘The Sexuality of English Pantomime’ in the seminal ‘People's Theatre’ issue of the original Theatre Quarterly (TQ4, 1974), and twenty years on Peter Holland takes up the debate in the light of recent developments in sexual politics, critical approaches to gender – and, not least, the continuing and not always expected evolution of what remains a very live form indeed. Peter Holland is about to move from his present post as Judith E. Wilson Reader in Drama and Theatre in the Faculty of English at Cambridge to become the new Director of the Shakespeare Institute in Stratford. An earlier version of his present article was presented as a paper at the conference on ‘Eros e commedia sulla scena inglese’, at the Terza Università in Rome in December 1995.

Dispositif de la sémiotique post-greimassienne, le schéma tensif a été introduit par Jacques Fontanille et Claude Zilberberg. L’auteur entend montrer le potentiel opératoire de ce dispositif, en s’écartant au besoin de son cadre d’origine. Prenant en compte les trajets orthogonaux, l’auteur propose notamment de faire passer de quatre à douze les trajets que l’on peut effectuer sur un schéma tensif à sectorisation dyadique ; pour les trajets sur un schéma tensif à sectorisation triadique, il suggère de s’inspirer de la typologie des courbes d’euphorie esthétique qu’il a dressée. Une application à des pensées de Pascal montre la nécessité de ces compléments théoriques tout en présentant un dernier ajout : la prise en compte des points de vue.

Dans ce travail, le concept de vulnérabilité sismique est utilisé afin de prédire le niveau moyen des dégâts pouvant se produire à grande échelle dans les bâtiments sous l’action d’une secousse sismique d’intensité connue. L’emploi de la notion de vulnérabilité est considéré dans le contexte de la typologie particulière des constructions en béton armé communément rencontrées au Nord du Maroc et n’ayant pas fait l’objet d’une conception parasismique assurant une protection adéquate. L’échelle de vulnérabilité est adaptée à partir de la méthode italienne dite « Gruppo Nazionale per la Difesa dai Terremoti » (GNDT), où un recalage des coefficients de pondération est effectué afin de mieux coller aux caractéristiques architecturales locales de ce type de constructions. Une corrélation est ensuite proposée entre l’indice des dégâts considéré comme l’effet principal recherché et les causes schématisées formellement à travers la notion de vulnérabilité. Les résultats d’une enquête menée sur le terrain après le fort tremblement de terre de magnitude 6,3 qui a frappé la région d’Al Hoceima au Nord du Maroc en 2004 ont montré que la méthode proposée permet d’évaluer correctement la vulnérabilité. Les courbes de fragilité relatives à cette typologie de bâtiments ont été enfin dressées.

Résumé Dans ces lignes, l’auteur se fait l’écho des difficultés rencontrées lors de sa traduction vers le français, du Ruhmana, ouvrage doctrinaire de Saparmourat Turkmenbashi, ancien chef du jeune état turkmène. Au-delà des évidents problèmes posés par le transfert d’éléments culturels vers la langue d’arrivée, sont apparues des difficultés « intraculturelles », liées à la diversité culturelle à l’intérieur même de la zone linguistique turque, et des difficultés d’ordre linguistique (lexicale, sémantique), d’ordre sociologique (diversité des niveaux sociaux et des substrats identitaires) et d’ordre idéologique (intention doctrinaire, symbolique). S’appuyant sur des exemples précis, l’auteur dresse une typologie des difficultés intraculutrelles et propose, pour chaque type, une attitude pour guider « l’opération traduisante ».

Sans nous cacher le caractère sommaire et extrêmement provisoire des lignes qui suivent, nous voudrions tenter ici de dresser, et d'illustrer par quelques exemples empiriques, un inventaire typologique des objets et des formes de l'intervention culturelle étatique, dont nous avons cherché, dans un précédent article, à préciser la notion et à montrer l'actualité. Ne serait-ce qu'en remémorant certains objets et certains modes d'intervention trop souvent ignorés ou négligés, nous voudrions ainsi donner un aperçu de l'ampleur et de la complexité d'un pareil sujet d'étude, suggérer les difficultés des comparaisons interétatiques en cette matière et faire pressentir l'extrême relativité d'analyses de l'intervention culturelle étatique qui ne prendraient en considération qu'une partie de ses objets ou de ses formes (par exemple, le mécénat à l'égard des beaux-arts et des belles-lettres). L'intervention de l'État en matière de culture se pluralise, en effet, en raison de la diversité de ses objets : secteurs, champs ou domaines de la culture sur lesquels elle porte, d'une part, et, d'autre part, fonctions spécifiques de l'action culturelle (ou processus culturels) qu'elle vise à l'intérieur de chacun de ceux-ci. Mais ses formes ou modalités se diversifient également selon qu'elle relève de l'une ou l'autre fonction, de l'un ou l'autre « pouvoir » (législatif, exécutif ou judiciaire) ou « niveau de contrôle » de l'État : «l'impératif (législation et gouvernement) et l'exécutif (administration et juridiction) ».

The phenomenon that recently occurred is the height of the millennial moms busy uploading pictures of their children in such a way they dressed through various social media. Accordingly, the need of the millennial moms in dressing their children up is related to the shopping patterns in kids apparel products. Buying kids products, especially apparel, not only meets the needs, but it is also the pleasure of the millennial mom. The unique characters of the millennial moms' behavior that differ from the mother’s of previous generations, make kids apparel marketers need to focus on the overall process of purchasing decisions made by the millennial moms. The purpose of this qualitative study is to explore the patterns of behavior of the millennial moms when shopping apparel products for toddlers, including the factors that influence the need awareness, information search, evaluation of alternatives, purchase behavior, and behavior post-purchase stages. Data collection method used is depth interview since the purpose of this exploratory study is to gain insight and understanding of consumers about a particular topic. The results of this study include an explanation of shopping behavior shown by the millennial moms for kids apparel products in all stages of the purchase decision process, shopping typology of millennial moms in kids apparel products, as well as the implications for marketers.

L’objectif de cet article est de proposer un cadre d’analyse des défis que doivent relever des gestionnaires du réseau de la santé lors de la réalisation d’une démarche d’harmonisation travail-vie personnelle. Les résultats s’appuient sur l’analyse qualitative d'autodiagnostics d’harmonisation travail-vie personnelle de 84 gestionnaires évoluant dans un contexte de travail sous pression. À l’aide d’une méthode d’analyse de contenu, cet article dresse un panorama détaillé des problèmes vécus et des stratégies mobilisées par des gestionnaires du réseau québécois de la santé pour résoudre certains conflits de travail-vie personnelle. À titre de contribution à la littérature existante, nous proposons une typologie de cinq types de stratégies – de gestion, affectives, de légitimation, de réduction de surcharge, et temporelles – par lesquelles des gestionnaires tentent de créer et de maintenir leur équilibre de vie. L’efficacité de ces stratégies est discutée et illustrée au moyen de cas servant de modèles, ou prototypes.

Cet article étudie les liens entre les trajectoires familiales des migrant·e·s de retour dans les départements d’outre-mer (Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, la Réunion) et les conditions de leur retour. À partir de l’enquête Migrations, Famille et Vieillissement et d’analyses de séquences, il dresse une typologie des trajectoires de cohabitation, de mise en couple et de parentalité de ces populations. Cinq types de trajectoires sont mis en valeur : l’entrée rapide dans la parentalité déclinée selon trois configurations conjugales, le départ tardif du domicile parental et la décohabitation rapide non suivie de mise en couple ou naissance d’enfants. Des régressions analysent ensuite l’effet des retours sur les trajectoires. Pour les femmes, le retour retarde la naissance d’enfants ou l’union et favorise les ruptures, surtout en cas de contraintes ou difficultés. Pour les hommes, le retour accélère au contraire ces étapes. Ces analyses soulignent ainsi l’organisation genrée des calendriers migratoires et familiaux, dans un rapport différencié à la contrainte.

In oral cultures, proverbs are a window to the very fabric of society. This article looks at how the current generation is using traditional proverbs in modern ways, by employing Zulu memetic aphorisms. These memetic aphorisms function in the same manner as memes; except that the former has no images underneath the writing. Memetic aphorisms are written in Zulu; however, they involve a lot of codeswitching and use of numbers instead of words. These memetic aphorisms are factual, ironical, funny, and use word play. They are generally acceptable comments and meaningful assertions about life in general. Memetic aphorisms have become an easy and quick way to communicate opinions of the speaker regarding the behaviour, dress code, physical appearance, social status and religious affiliation. This article will look at how the content of these memetic aphorisms is organised to criticise and shun the bad behaviour of women in an effort to prepare them for marriage. It will also look at the correlation between the languages of memes, as it relates to traditional proverbs in Zulu. The article proposes a simple typology for analysing and identifying common features between the aphorisms and traditional proverbs in Zulu social discourse. These memetic aphorisms gain their relevance and meaning in the context within which they are used.

La Weltanschauung est perçue comme la résultante de l’idéalisme philosophique qui consacre la toute puissance du sujet et de ses représentations tout en révélant paradoxalement sa finitude, car il ne peut sortir du cadre de ces dernières. A partir des interprétations de Jaspers et de Heidegger, la Weltanschauung n’apparaît plus que comme un symptôme, voire un qualificatif, qui permet de disqualifier l’époque et ses systèmes intellectuels et politiques. Mais plutôt qu’une typologie des différentes manifestations de la conception du monde moderne, nous souhaiterions dresser une topologie de ses implications dans les champs de la philosophie et de l’existence afin de renouveler l'analyse de cette notion et d'en saisir les répercussions sur les définitions de la subjectivité. Notre travail vise à circonscrire la double nature problématique de la Weltanschauung, en tant qu’elle renvoie à la fois à un concept mais aussi à un processus formateur de ce qu’on pourrait appeler provisoirement un cadre d’existence. Dès lors, l’étude de la notion de Weltanschauung peut permettre de mettre au jour sa prééminence et son actualité, pour penser autant la modernité en tant que telle, que les configurations qui s’y déploient et se définissent par rapport à elle, notamment en tant que postmodernité.

Purpose. The purpose of this article is to identify the characteristic design features of the corporate identity elements used in school uniforms in Ukraine, which have developed under the influence of national and cultural traditions. The objects of analysis were samples of emblems and logos of Ukrainian educational schools, which are visual symbols of the school and part of the design of a school uniform. Methodology. Methodological basis of research is complex approach, methods of visually analysis of research object, systematization of varieties of emblems and logotypes of educational school of Ukraine. Results. The most characteristic artistically-composition decisions of emblems of educational school of Ukraine are analysed and distinguished: their basic types, characteristic symbolics and colour decisions. The typology of the graphical elements used in emblems, as means of communication, is offered by semantic value for producing an image and corporate identity of educational school. The basic types of the logotypes used in the design of school uniform suit of school of Ukraine. Scientific novelty.The imagery of emblems of educational establishments of Ukraine are systematized by their semantic value. Characteristic variations of combination of clip arts and colour combinations are certain in the brandname symbolics of educational establishments of Ukraine. The basic types of the logotypes used in the design of school uniform suit in Ukraine. Practical significance. Classification of graphical elements of emblems of educational establishments of Ukraine is worked out allowed to generalize the artistically-composition features of their brandname style and feature of their use in a design school service dress for visual репрезентации and translation of values and basic descriptions of educational establishment. Research materials can be used for development of brandname style and design modern school uniform

RésumésTrois livres récents questionnent la manière d’aborder le travail sous l’Empire romain et d’en écrire l’histoire : les sources que privilégient les historiens, l’échelle d’observation à laquelle ils se situent et les présupposés théoriques qui les guident. Ces réflexions montrent qu’il existe bien des manières d’écrire l’histoire du travail, un domaine désormais éclaté en multiples sous-champs qui ne dialoguent pas forcément entre eux. Grâce à la relecture de sources traditionnelles, littéraires et épigraphiques, ainsi qu’à l’apport décisif de l’archéologie et des papyrus, l’histoire traditionnelle du travail et des métiers s’est considérablement renouvelée. On s’interroge maintenant sur les causes de la spécialisation poussée des métiers à Rome et sur l’existence d’une véritable division du travail. Par ailleurs, la recherche archéologique aide à améliorer la compréhension des techniques et des processus productifs, et, par là, à dresser une typologie des identités socio-professionnelles des patrons et de leurs employés dans les boutiques et les ateliers romains. Dans une tout autre direction, le travail est considéré, d’un point de vue macro-économique, comme une force à mobiliser par l’entrepreneur : les questions sur la productivité comparée des esclaves et de la main-d’œuvre libre ont été remplacées par celles sur les coûts de transaction du travail salarié et du travail dépendant. Le débat demeure vif entre les historiens qui estiment que le marché du travail n’est pas développé, du fait du poids toujours important des réseaux clientélaires et du travail dépendant, et ceux qui décrivent une économie de marché libre, où le travail est devenu une marchandise.

The article presents the results of a typological analysis of FALLING verbs performed on a sample of 42 languages. Under falling we understand uncontrolled gravity-forced downward motion in the air without contact with a surface. Within this semantic domain, we identify 4 main situations (frames) that consistently underlie lexical oppositions: moving from a higher surface to a lower one (‘the vase fell from the table’), loss of vertical orientation (‘the vase fell and the water spilled on the tablecloth’), falling-destruction (‘the house collapsed’) and detaching (‘the dress fell off the hanger’). Depending on the encoding strategy of these frames, we distinguish between several types of FALLING systems. Two extremes in this typology are represented, on the one hand, by a dominant strategy (i.e., all frames may be covered by the same verb) and, on the other, by a distributive system (a special verb is used for each of the frames). Within our sample, the dominant system is encountered, e.g., in Hindi, Greek, Basque, and Tigrinya, and the distributive one is characteristic of Hungarian, Chukchi, Adyghe, and Khmer. These and other lexicalization patterns are visualized using both a traditional semantic map model and formal concept analysis. The paper also discusses additional parameters that may affect the choice of lexical means — in particular, the type of falling subject, the number of falling items, the peculiarity of the subject’s initial and final positions, the cause of the fall, etc. For example, languages tend to use special verbs to encode falling of precipitation. Multiple subjects (e.g., granular solids or apples) may be lexically opposed to separate elements. In case of humans, verbs of falling may imply a certain orientation of the subject after the falling event (e.g., on one’s back or face down), or a specific reason (falling caused by an internal malfunction — faint, loss of balance, etc., or by an external impact — hitting, shooting, etc.)

Pendant deux années, des mesures et analyses d'eau ont été faites mensuellement sur une station de la Garonne et sur trois bras morts différant par leur communication avec le fleuve. La variabilité spatio-temporelle a été dressée à partir de 14 variables physico-chimiques susceptibles d'influer les équilibres chimiques de l'eau et la vie aquatique. Les données ont fait l'objet d'une Analyse en Composantes principales précédée par une analyse de variance entre saisons et entre stations de mesures afin de déterminer l'importance des hétérogénéités spatiale et temporelle des données. L'eau du fleuve est soumise à un cycle climatique annuel de température et de débit. De brèves fortes eaux de printemps alternent avec de longues périodes de débits stables et inférieurs aux moyennes établies sur plusieurs décennies. Par rapport aux charges de sulfates et de chlorures prises comme référence du drainage du bassin versant, les flux de nitrates ont un pic accentué au printemps, résultant des activités agricoles. Les phosphates présentent aussi un accroissement automnal qui pourrait traduire un cycle annuel de minéralisation-déminéralisation. Les matières organiques s'élèvent en rapport au taux de chlorophylle a. L'eau de Garonne est de bonne qualité et conforme à la typologie habituelle, hormis des taux déclassants d'ammoniaque provenant de l'agglomération toulousaine et dont l'autoépuration est souvent incomplète. Par rapport à la Garonne, les trois bras morts sont caractérisés par un cycle thermique accentué en été. Mise en évidence par l'ACP, la minéralisation des eaux de ces trois bras morts évolue selon un cycle saisonnier parallèlement aux fluctuations de débit de la Garonne. Elle indique un gradient de minéralisation croissante de l'hiver au printemps. La qualité de l'eau lors des fortes eaux printanières est homogénéisée et imposée par le fleuve. En phases de faibles débits, la qualité de l'eau évolue parallèlement à celle de la Garonne (concentrations des substances) pour un bras mort ventilé par une communication amont et aval. En revanche, les deux bras morts en simple communication aval présentent un retard à la concentration de l'eau d'autant plus évident que la communication est étroite. Les substances fertilisantes (nitrates, phosphates, ...) augmentant de l'amont vers l'aval dans ces deux derniers bras morts, sont en été en concentration inférieure par rapport au fleuve, en raison : 1) du remplissage printanier par des eaux diluées, puis du retard estival à l’équilibrage par simple communication aval et 2) de la consommation par les organismes végétaux aquatiques. L'élude des différences spatio-temporelles met ainsi en évidence un gradient saisonnier de minéralisation, un gradient aval-amont de productivité et un gradient aval-amont de réchauffement estival. La productivité apparaît donc liée au réchauffement estival plutôt qu'à la minéralisation ou aux teneurs en substances fertilisantes.

Background. The image of Green Man (Green Man — “the spirit of the forest”), which embodies a mythological forest deity, undoubtedly entered the city's architecture along with new Western stylistic tendencies and immediately gained popularity among the Lviv architects of that time. Mythological images, which were formed during the ancient history of mankind, have often remained topical for subsequent epochs, but it should be noted that in the 19th century these mask-images acquired exclusively a decorative function and canonicity of their depiction was altered by interpretations of the author's vision. Despite the fact that Lviv architectural decor of the 19th century is a rather studied topic, so far Lviv Green Man mascarons of the 19th century have not been the subject of a special study, which predetermines the scientific novelty of the chosen topic. Objectives. The purpose of the article is to analyze the main theories of the origin of the Green Man image in the architecture of Western Europe, to reveal its symbolic meaning, to highlight the main typological groups of green man masks in Lviv architecture of the 19th century, to reveal and analyze their figurative and plastic solutions. Methods. The article applies the general scientific methods of research: method of analysis is used in the study and systematization of scientific literature in terms of the subject of research; comparative method is used for the analysis of stylistic features of 19th century Lviv Green Man mascarons in comparison with Western European tendencies; method of synthesis is used in the development of typology of Lviv Green Man mascarons of the period in question; method of art analysis is used in the analysis of stylistic and plastic features of Green Man masks on Lviv facades of 19th century. Results. Green Man is a fiction image that combines human appearance and the flora. In the ancient world cultures, Green Man sometimes was identified as the vegetative deity of the nature. First of all, it is interpreted as a pagan spirit of forest and the symbol of nature revival. It is rather paradoxical that most depictions of this pagan symbol of nature are in the interiors and exteriors of temple architecture of medieval Europe. Pre-Christian pagan traditions were closely associated with nature. Worshipping sacred trees was intrinsic for many ancient cultures that directly influenced artistic culture of Christian Europe. Accordingly, the masks of “green men” were, perhaps, only one of the pagan symbolic images, which gained the right to exist in the space of medieval ecclesiastical architecture. A new wave of interest in Green Man's image dates back to the 19th century. The reason for its revival could be an environmental crisis, and in this respect the image of Green Man present in architecture can be regarded as the archetype of “nature guardian”, whose role is to remind people of their responsibilities to nature. During this period various Green Man mascarons, deprived of symbolism, again started to be used by architects as decorative elements of secular buildings. Undoubtedly, such popularity of the “green man” masks in Victorian architecture has influenced the use of this image in European eclecticism, from where it came to Lviv architecture. Motive of the green man has many variations, which, depending on the author's conception, can be either interpreted as naturalistic or stylized. The authors of Green Man mascarons placed great importance on specific species of plants. To a large extent their choice depended on the local flora and symbolic associations they caused. Among Lviv Green Man mascarons, one can distinguish certain common features characteristic for certain types of face reliefs of the green man. Most often the authors of Lviv mascarons portrayed Green Man's face, hair, mustache and beard turning into leaves. Particular importance was attached to the mood of this bizarre creature. A deep, pensive look and a half-open mouth convey specific facial expression reflecting a special meditative condition that forces these masks to “speak”. A wide spectrum of moods of forest deity mascarons is conveyed by means of facial expressions. Some faces are friendly and smiling, others look sad, fierce, and at times even threatening, approaching theatrical feelings and emotions, thereby turning into “leafy grotesque”. Individual masks have more in common with demons or beasts than with humans. Horny faces of the “green man”, which are close to the image of an ancient god Pan, can be referred to a separate typological group of masks. Sometimes these masks stand out with an ominous look and a wry smile that bring them closer to the image of demonic forest deity, wild spirit of forest. Less often in Lviv architecture one can see the relief heads of Green Man dressed in stylized leaf crowns or from the mouth of which plant sprouts are growing. The last type of masks usually serves as an ornamental motive in the exterior decor and is characterized by small size. On the facades of many Lviv eclectic buildings, the mascarons of the green man can be complemented with ornamental compositions of plant sprouts, flowers and fruits, garlands or fruit bundles hanging on the lace out of Green Man's mouth. Similar to European art, there are Green Man mascarons in Lviv architecture depicting a human face decorated with separate leaves or surrounded by a leaf wreath. The atypical attribute of Lviv masks of nature deity are wings. In addition to all the above-mentioned images in Lviv architecture, there are also mascarons of green lions whose symbolic significance is associated with force and power. Conclusions. Consequently, Green Man mascaron is a strange symbiosis of a human face and flora, a pagan spirit of nature, the guard of forests, embodiment of the connection between the world of plants and the world of people. Together with its mysterious roots the “Green man” also entered the facade decoration of Lviv architecture of the 19th century. Analyzing the typology of Lviv mascarons images of the 19th century, we make certain that the image of Green Man was one of the most popular in the toolkit of architects and sculptors of that time. Variation of “neo” Green Man's masks is characteristic for Lviv architecture of the late the 19th century. The authors of Lviv masks attached a great importance to the facial expressions of forest deity. Its attributes can be horns, wings, sprouts growing from the mouth of Green Man or garlands of fruits and flowers, which compositionally complement the image. The choice of plant-like forms was equally important. Performing an exclusively decorative function on the facades of Lviv buildings, this image remains a mystery up to now.

The Franciscan Monastery of St Domnius at Kraj on the island of Pašman houses an incunable edition of Augustine’s The City of God (De Civitate Dei) which was printed in Venice by Nicolas Jenson in 1475. The incunable features beautiful Renaissance multi-coloured illuminations painted in tempera, sepia, ink and water colours while gold foils and gold dust were used on fol. 17 (the page number is not original but was subsequently added in pencil; this folio contains the beginning of Book 1) and a number of other folios. The illumination on fol. 17 consists of two phytomorphic initials, a decorative border and independent figural scenes while a number of other folios are decorated with phytomorphic initials of the littera notabilior type, the height of which corresponds to two lines, painted in red or blue. The top and left margin of the first page of Book 1 are filled with a decorative border terminating in trilobes on each end. The ornamental scheme of the border consists of a band made up of five thin lines which undulates in a spiral and thus forms circles. These are filled with flowers, leaves and berries painted in blue, green and cyclamen purple but also with gold stylized burdock flowers (Lat. Arctium lappa; some scholars call them gold dots, that is, bottoni dorati). The remaining fields are filled with bent scrolls. In the upper left corner of the frame is a goldfinch. The initial I, composed of phytomorphic motifs in blue, green and cyclamen purple and their shades, is painted against a gold background of the rectangular field situated at the beginning of the text column on the left-hand side. Inside the decorative border, placed at the height which corresponds to the centre of the initial, is a medallion with the bust of St Augustine depicted in the open sky with elongated white clouds and no other details. The illusion of the spatial depth was achieved through the use of tonal gradations: the shades of blue are darker at the top and lighter in the lower half of the sky. St Augustine is dressed in a white robe and a red cloak with a black hood. He is wearing a white mitre with a horizontal and perpendicular band highlighted with gold dust. The shadows and folds of his clothes were articulated with black and white lines. His right hand is pointing to the open book which was painted at the height of his chest. The fingers on his right hand are elongated and thin. St Augustine’s gold nimbus was painted as a full circle the left half of which was outlined in white and the right half in black. St Augustine is directing his gentle and sad gaze upwards. His head is slightly bent. His round and bony head is marked by the large round eyes with prominent sclera and dark circles underneath while the arched eyebrows are thinner at their ends. The nose is small and the mouth is turned downwards. The plasticity of the face and its complexion were articulated with white and pink shades. The trimmed dark beard is depicted with short lines in lighter and darker shades. The ornamental frame which fills the top margin corresponds to the one in the left margin but was decorated more modestly because the miniaturist placed the scroll bearing the printer’s name and the scroll identifying the text as belonging to Book 1 at the centre of the frame which left only the beginning and the end of the frame to be decorated. The scroll with the printer’s name is emphasized by a golden burdock flower at the top of the frame and a golden teasel flower (Lat. Dipsacus fullonum) at the bottom. The lower margin features two symmetrical angels, rendered in a somewhat imprecise drawing, who kneel on the ground painted in the shades of green and brown. The physiognomy of the angels is similar to that of St Augustine. Their round heads have small eyes and noses, shaded circles under the eyes and arched eyebrows. The mouths are depicted as thin lines with pronounced ends and are further accentuated by a dot beneath the lower lip. The plasticity of their faces was achieved through the tonal gradation of pink and white. The angels’ hair, ochre in colour and highlighted with gold dust, is thick and short and covers the tops of their heads like a helmet. The outspread wings were painted in dark and light shades of blue. Two wide red scrolls with white highlights emerge symmetrically from behind the angels at their waist height. Wavy tendrils and gold stylized teasel flowers extend from the red scroll. The angels hold a laurel wreath between them. The colour of the circular field inside the wreath is cyclamen purple. The wreath is formed by three rows of leaves which are bound by four regularly spaced ties. The leaves’ edges and tips were painted in light and dark shades of green. Inside the wreath is a Renaissance crest surrounded by thin white wiggly tendrils with sprouting leaves. The shield, in the shape of a horse’s head, is divided horizontally into the dark blue upper half and the red lower half. It features a gold lion with his mouth wide open who is facing right and holding a tree with his front paws. The tree’s pyramidal top is decorated with small dots indicating leaves and fruit. The shield’s right half is outlined in white and the left one in black. The second text column on the first page of Book 1 is decorated with the painted initial letter G. It consists of phytomorphic motifs in blue, red, yellow and cyclamen purple and their shades. Two small leaves are attached to the initial on its left-hand side. As is the case with the crest, the initial was additionally decorated with elegant white tendrils sprouting leaves and highlighted with gold dust. The background is also gold while the rectangular field around the initial is outlined in a thin black line. Two wavy tendrils and two gold stylized teasel flowers emerge from the corners of the frame on the left-hand side while a green leaf appears at the centre. Apart from these illuminations and initials on fol. 17, the incunable contains other initials, one for the beginning of each of the remaining twenty one book, and all of them consist of blue, green and cyclamen pink phytomorphic motifs painted against a gold background inside a black rectangular frame. The plasticity of these initials was achieved through tonal gradation and the use of yellow while thin white undulating tendrils with variations in width and highlights in gold dust enriched the decoration. Some sentences in the text were emphasized by numerous initials in red or blue of the littera notabilior type the height of which corresponds to two lines of the text. The illuminations of this incunable edition of the De Civitate Dei belong to north Italian or Venetian Renaissance painting and they demonstrate numerous significant similarities with the works of the well-known Venetian miniaturist whom the scholarly literature identified as Maestro del Plinio di Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (Maestro del Plinio di Pico or, more commonly, Maestro di Pico). The attribution of the illuminations in this incunable to Maestro di Pico, who may have been helped by his workshop and assistants especially during the painting of the decorative frame and initials, is based on the figure of St Augustine and the angels who support the crest. Their features display the same typology which characterizes the works of Maestro di Pico. Identical angels appear in the bottom margin of Brunetto Latini’s Il Tesoro (Gerardus de Lisa, Treviso, 1474; Cambridge, Mass., Harvard, Houghton Library, Inc. 6459, c. 7). The figure of St Augustine shows pronounced similarities with the figure of a Dominican monk, set inside the initial O of the littera historiata type, in Nicolaus de Auximo’s Supplementum (Franciscus Renner et Nicolaus de Frankofordia, Venice, 1474; Biblioteca Marciana, Inc. Ven. 494, c.2). Identical angels and putti can be found in the bottom margins of Strabo’s Geographica (Minneapolis, Univ. of Minnesotta Library, Ms. 1460/f St., c.1), and in two copies of Pliny’s Historia Naturalis (Venice, N. Jenson, 1472, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Vèlins 498 and Venice, N. Jenson, 1472, San Marino, CA, Huntington Library, n. 2289). A beautiful comparative example is the Biblia Latina (Franciscus Renner & Nicolaus de Frankfordia, 1475, Dallas, Texas, Southern Methodist University, Bridwell Library) and its first page which has a similar composition to that in the incunable from Kraj. The figure of St Jerome, depicted inside a littera historiata provides a plethora of specific Morellian details which are essential for the attribution of the illuminations in the incunable from Kraj to Maestro di Pico. Striking similarities in the depictions of saints, phytomorphic initials and decorative frames can also be found in two psalters (one in Venice, Biblioteca Querini Stampaglia, Inc. 6, the other in Siena, Biblioteca S. Bernardino del Convento dell’Osservanza) and in the first page of the Psalms in a breviary from Paris (Bibliothèque Ste-Geneviève, OE XV 147 Rés). Similar saints and angels all of which belong to the same figural typology were used to decorate three copies from the Commissioni series made for Doge Agostino Barbarigo (Commissione del doge Agostino Barbarigo a Girolamo Capello, 1487, Venice, Bib. Del Museo Correr, MS Cl. III. 33 (fig. 15); Commissione del doge Agostino Barbarigo a Paolo di Canale, 1489, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Lat. 4729, c.2, and Commissione del doge Agostino Barbarigo a Tommaso Loredano, 1490, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Lat. 4730, c.1). Further parallels can be found in the illuminations of a breviary from Augsburg (c. 1480, Universitätsbibl., Cod. I.2.2o 35) the first page of which has a lettera istoriata with the figure of St Paul whose physiognomy closely resembles that of St Augustine in the incunabule from Kraj, while the bottom margin features centrally placed angels which are identical to those at Kraj. Equally important comparative material is found in three Paduan incunables (Biblioteca del Seminario Vescovile) which contain illuminations attributed to Maestro di Pico. The distinctive features of the angels, putti and saints as well as the type of decoration used in the margins of these incunables also demonstrate striking similarities with the illuminations from Kraj. Other examples include Lattanzi’s Opera (Giovanni da Colonia and Johannes Manthen, Venice, 1478; Forc. M. 3.2), Jacopo da Varagine’s Legenda aurea (Gabriele di Pietro, Venice, 1477, with a likely contribution of his workshop; Forc. M. 2.22) and Cipriano’s Opera (Vindelino da Spira, Venice, 1471; Forc. K. 2.12). On the basis of the comparative analyses outlined above and the similarities which have been noted, it can be concluded that the illuminations in the incunable of St Augustine’s De Civitate Dei (Nicolas Jenson, Venice, 1475), housed in the Monastery of St Domnius at Kraj, were painted by the well-known Venetian Renaissance miniaturist Maestro di Pico. Regardless of the possible input of his workshop and assistants during the painting process of the decorative frame and initials, these illuminations help expand the catalogue of Maestro di Pico’s works and represent valuable contribution to the painting in Renaissance Dalmatia.

Recent conservation and restoration work on the icon of the Virgin and Child which stood on the altar in the Church of St. Nicholas at Prijeko in Dubrovnik has enabled a new interpretation of this paining. The icon, painted on a panel made of poplar wood, features a centrally-placed Virgin holding the Child in her arms painted on a gold background between the two smaller figures of St. Peter and St. John the Baptist. The figures are painted in the manner of the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Dubrovnik style, and represent a later intervention which significantly changed the original appearance and composition of the older icon by adding the two saints and touching up the Virgin’s clothes with Renaissance ornaments, all of which was performed by the well-known Dubrovnik painter Nikola Božidarević. It can be assumed that the icon originally featured a standing or seated Virgin and Child. The Virgin is depicted with her head slightly lowered and pointing to the Christ Child whom she is holding on her right side. The chubby boy is not seated on his mother’s lap but is reclining on his right side and leaningforward while his face is turned towards the spectator. He is dressed in a red sleeveless tunic with a simple neck-line which is embroidered with gold thread. The Child is leaning himself on the Virgin’s right hand which is holding him. He is firmly grasping her thumb with one hand and her index finger with the other in a very intimate nursing gesture while she, true to the Hodegitria scheme, is pointing at him with her left hand, which is raised to the level of her breasts. Such an almost-realistic depiction of Christ as a small child with tiny eyes, mouth and nose, drastically departs from the model which portrays him with the mature face of an adult, as was customary in icon painting. The Virgin is wearing a luxurious gold cloak which was repainted with large Renaissance-style flowers. Her head is covered with a traditional maphorion which forms a wide ring around it and is encircled by a nimbus which was bored into thegold background. Her skin tone is pink and lit diffusely, and was painted with almost no green shadows, which is typical of Byzantine painting. The Virgin’s face is striking and markedly oval. It is characterized by a silhouetted, long, thin nose which is connected to the eyebrows. The ridge of the nose is emphasized with a double edge and gently lit whilethe almond-shaped eyes with dark circles are set below the inky arches of the eyebrows. The Virgin’s cheeks are smooth and rosy while her lips are red. The plasticity of her round chin is emphasized by a crease below the lower lip and its shadow. The Virgin’s eyes, nose and mouth are outlined with a thick red line. Her hands are light pink in colour and haveelongated fingers and pronounced, round muscles on the wrists. The fingers are separated and the nails are outlined with precision. The deep, resounding hues of the colour red and the gilding, together with the pale pink skin tone of her face, create an impression of monumentality. The type of the reclining Christ Child has been identified in Byzantine iconography as the Anapeson. Its theological background lies in the emphasis of Christ’s dual nature: although the Christ Child is asleep, the Christ as God is always keeping watch over humans. The image was inspired by a phrase from Genesis 49: 9 about a sleeping lion to whom Christ is compared: the lion sleeps with his eyes open. The Anapeson is drowsy and awake at the same time, and therefore his eyes are not completely shut. Such a paradox is a theological anticipation of his “sleep” in the tomb and represents an allegory of his death and Resurrection. The position, gesture and clothes of the Anapeson in Byzantine art are not always the same. Most frequently, the ChristChild is not depicted lying in his mother’s arms but on an oval bed or pillow, resting his head on his hand, while the Virgin is kneeling by his side. Therefore, the Anapeson from Dubrovnik is unique thanks to the conspicuously humanized relationship between the figures which is particularly evident in Christ’s explicitly intimate gesture of grasping the fingers of his mother’s hand: his right hand is literally “inserting” itself in the space between the Virgin’s thumb and index finger. At the same time, the baring of his arms provided the painter with an opportunity to depict the pale tones of a child’s tender skin. The problem of the iconography of the Anapeson in the medieval painting at Dubrovnik is further complicated by a painting which was greatly venerated in Župa Dubrovačka as Santa Maria del Breno. It has not been preserved but an illustration of it was published in Gumppenberg’sfamous Atlas Marianus which shows the Virgin seated on a high-backed throne and holding the sleeping and reclining Child. The position of this Anapeson Christ does not correspond fully to the icon from the Church of St. Nicholas because the Child is lying on its back and his naked body is covered with the swaddling fabric. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko claims a special place in the corpus of Romanesque icons on the Adriatic through its monumentality and intimate character. The details of the striking and lively Virgin’s face, dominated by the pronounced and gently curved Cimabuesque nose joined to the shallow arches of her eyebrows, link her with the Benedictine Virgin at Zadar. Furthermore, based on the manner of painting characterized by the use of intense red for the shadows in the nose and eye area, together with the characteristic shape of the elongated, narrow eyes, this Virgin and Child should be brought into connection with the painter who is known as the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. The so-called Benedictine Virgin is an icon, now at the Benedictine Convent at Zadar, which depicts the Virgin seated on a throne with a red, ceremonial, imperial cushion, in a solemn scheme of the Kyriotissa, the heavenly queen holding the Christ Child on her lap. The throne is wooden and has a round back topped with wooden finials which can also be seen in the Byzantine Kahn Virgin and the Mellon Madonna, as well as in later Veneto-Cretan painting. The throne is set under a shallow ciborium arch which is rendered in relief and supportedby twisted colonettes and so the painting itself is sunk into the surface of the panel. A very similar scheme with a triumphal arch can be seen on Byzantine ivory diptychs with shallow ciborium arches and twisted colonettes. In its composition, the icon from Prijeko is a combination ofthe Kyr i ot i ss a and the Hodegitria, because the Virgin as the heavenly queen does not hold the Christ Child frontally before her but on her right-hand side while pointing at him as the road to salvation. He is seated on his mother’s arm and is supporting himself by pressing his crossed legsagainst her thigh which symbolizes his future Passion. He is wearing a formal classical costume with a red cloak over his shoulder. He is depicted in half profile which opens up the frontal view of the red clavus on his navy blue chiton.He is blessing with the two fingers of his right hand and at the same time reaching for the unusual flower rendered in pastiglia which the Virgin is raising in her left hand and offering to him. At the same time, she is holding the lower part of Christ’s body tightly with her right hand.Various scholars have dated the icon of the Benedictine Virgin to the early fourteenth century. While Gothic features are particularly evident in the costumes of the donors, the elements such as the modelling of the throne and the presence of the ceremonial cushion belong to the Byzantine style of the thirteenth century. The back of the icon of the Benedictine Virgin features the figure of St. Peter set within a border consisting of a lively and colourful vegetal scroll which could be understood as either Romanesque or Byzantine. However, St. Peter’s identifying titulus is written in Latin while that of the Virgin is in Greek. The figure of St. Peter was painted according to the Byzantine tradition: his striking and severe face is rendered linearly in a rigid composition, which is complemented by his classical contrapposto against a green-gray parapet wall, while the background is of dark green-blue colour. Equally Byzantine is themanner of depicting the drapery with flat, shallow folds filled with white lines at the bottom of the garment while, at the same time, the curved undulating hem of the cloak which falls down St. Peter’s right side is Gothic. The overall appearance of St. Peter is perhaps even more Byzantine than that of the Virgin. Such elements, together with the typically Byzantine costumes, speak clearly of a skilful artist who uses hybrid visual language consisting of Byzantine painting and elements of the Romanesque and Gothic. Of particular interest are the wide nimbuses surrounding the heads of the Virgin and Child (St. Peter has a flat one) which are rendered in relief and filled with a neat sequence of shallow blind archesexecuted in the pastiglia technique which, according to M. Frinta, originated in Cyprus. The Venetian and Byzantine elements of the Benedictine Virgin have already been pointed out in the scholarship. Apart from importing art works and artists such as painters and mosaic makers directly from Byzantium into Venice, what was the extent and nature of the Byzantineinfluence on Venetian artistic achievements in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries? We know that the art of Venice and the West alike were affected by the Fourth Crusade and the sack of Constantinople in 1204, and by the newly founded Latin Empire which lasted until 1261.The Venetians played a particularly significant political and administrative role in this Empire and the contemporary hybrid artistic style of the eastern Mediterranean, called Crusader Art and marked by the strong involvement of the Knights Templar, must have been disseminated through the established routes. In addition to Cyprus, Apulia and Sicily which served as stops for the artists and art works en route to Venice and Tuscany, another station must have been Dalmatia where eastern and western influences intermingled and complemented each other.However, it is interesting that the icon of the Benedictine Virgin, apart from negligible variations, imitates almost completely the iconographic scheme of the Madonna di Ripalta at Cerignola on the Italian side of the Adriatic, which has been dated to the early thirteenth century and whose provenance has been sought in the area between southern Italy (Campania) and Cyprus. Far more Byzantine is another Apulian icon, that of a fourteenth-century enthroned Virgin from the basilica of St. Nicholas at Bari with which the Benedictine Virgin from Zadar shares certain features such as the composition and posture of the figures, the depictionof donors and Christ’s costume. A similar scheme, which indicates a common source, can be seen on a series of icons of the enthroned Virgin from Tuscany. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko is very important for local Romanesque painting of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century because it expands the oeuvre of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. Anicon which is now at Toronto, in the University of Toronto Art Centre Malcove Collection, has also been attributed to this master. This small two-sided icon which might have been a diptych panel, as can be judged from its typology, depicts the Virgin with the Anapeson in the upper register while below is the scene from the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. The Virgin is flanked by the figures of saints: to the left is the figure of St. Francis while the saint on the right-hand side has been lost due to damage sustained to the icon. The busts of SS Peter and Paul are at the top.The physiognomies of the Virgin and Child correspond to those of the Benedictine Virgin and the Prijeko icon. The Anapeson, unlike the one at Dubrovnik, is wrapped in a rich, red cloak decorated with lumeggiature, which covers his entire body except the left fist and shin. On the basis of the upper register of this icon, it can be concluded that the Master of the Benedictine Virgin is equally adept at applying the repertoire and style of Byzantine and Western painting alike; the lower register of the icon with its descriptive depiction of the martyrdom of St.Lawrence is completely Byzantine in that it portrays the Roman emperor attending the saint’s torture as a crowned Byzantine ruler. Such unquestionable stylistic ambivalence – the presence of the elements from both Byzantine and Italian painting – can also be seen on the icons of theBenedictine and Prijeko Virgin and they point to a painter who works in a “combined style.” Perhaps he should be sought among the artists who are mentioned as pictores greci in Dubrovnik, Kotor and Zadar. The links between Dalmatian icons and Apulia and Tuscany have already been noted, but the analysis of these paintings should also contain the hitherto ignored segment of Sicilian and eastern Mediterranean Byzantinism, including Cyprus as the centre of Crusader Art. The question of the provenance of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin remains open although the icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko points to the possibility that he may have been active in Dalmatia.However, stylistic expressions of the two icons from Zadar and Dubrovnik, together with the one which is today at Toronto, clearly demonstrate the coalescing of cults and forms which arrived to the Adriatic shores fromfurther afield, well beyond the Adriatic, and which were influenced by the significant, hitherto unrecognized, role of the eastern Mediterranean.

In this qualitative study, rehabilitation therapists (occupational therapists, physiotherapists, and speech-language pathologists) working in stroke care will be asked about their clinical questions. The goals of the study are: to identify common characteristics of questions, to develop a typology of questions, and to uncover reasons why certain questions are pursued.Pour cette étude qualitative, des thérapeutes en réadaptation (ergothérapeutes, physiothérapeutes et orthophonistes) œuvrant auprès de patients ayant subi un accident vasculaire cérébral sont interrogés à propos de leurs questions cliniques. Cette étude vise à déterminer les caractéristiques communes des questions, à dresser une typologie des questions et à découvrir les raisons pour lesquelles certaines questions adressées.

Le présent article propose de dresser un premier bilan du traitement réservé par les sociologues aux questions du travail et de l’entreprise au Maroc. Malgré les changements sociaux profonds ayant marqué la société marocaine durant les deux dernières décennies, la sociologie marocaine est restée prisonnière d’une approche classique privilégiant le monde rural et occultant les dynamiques associées aux villes et aux mondes productifs. Faut-il décoloniser les sciences sociales pour permettre aux sociologues marocains de s’ouvrir sur de nouveaux phénomènes sociaux, le travail en tête ? Ou alors la question renvoie-t-elle aux normes de formation et de reproduction des élites sociologiques dans le contexte marocain ? Pour situer les nouvelles perspectives esquissées récemment par les jeunes sociologues, nous présentons les travaux sur le monde de la production marocain tout en veillant à dresser une typologie afin de faciliter la tâche au lecteur.

Résumé Ces dernières années, une vaste coalition d’acteurs sociaux a déployé de fortes critiques contre les injustices du commerce international, dans ses formes conventionnelles. Se voulant une alternative à celui-ci, le commerce équitable (CE) a été développé, qui se trouve à présent à une croisée de chemins, confronté à une série de défis : de débouchés, de différenciation avec le système commercial et marketing conventionnel, de préservation de l’identité ou de la pureté du mouvement, etc. Des conflits internes, entre des forces contradictoires, deviennent aujourd’hui apparents, exposant le CE, en ébullition, à un risque d’explosion. Cet article vise à dresser une typologie des acteurs constituant cet ensemble complexe de credo socio-politiques, et de pratiques managériales et de marketing qu’est devenu le CE.

A limestone stele from the village of Lobor (north-western Croatia) was accidentally recovered in 1857, but its archaeological context has never been established (figs. 1, 2). Its find spot belonged to a Roman settlement or a villa in the territory of either Andautonia or Poetovio, both towns in the Roman province of Pannonia Superior. It was first published in 1909, the stress being on epigraphy, and was later mentioned in passing in a number of articles in various contexts. In some of them the stele in question was illustrated by drawings featuring some false or imprecise details (figs. 3, 4); therefore, a new one has been made for the needs of the present discussion (fig. 2). The aim of this paper was to discuss the stone from Lobor in detail, with the stress on military iconography, social context of its use and the workshop affiliation. The epitaph reveals that the tombstone was put up by the mother and a brother, Septimia Lucilla and Cocceius, signifer of Legio X gemina, to 30-year-old Marcus Cocceius Superianus, centurion of the same legion and to 40-year-old praetorian Valerius Lucilianus. It transpires from the names and the woman’s clothes that it was an early Romanised native family, with a long tradition of serving in the Roman army. The dress and equipment of both soldiers are the same: a sagum with a round brooch, a long-sleeve tunic, a belt with a rectangular frame buckle, a spatha worn on the left side and ending in a round scabbard chape and a baldric featuring an oval mount. The only difference between them is in that the soldier on the right side has one scroll in his left hand, while the other one has two, one each in each hand (possibly the praetorian). The woman is clad in native costume, with the overdress fastened on the shoulders by brooches of the shape unparalleled elsewhere. On the basis of the dress, equipment and the portraits, the stele should be dated 220-250 A.D. The form of the stone points toward Norican typological traits and seems to have been manufactured in the workshop(s) of Andautonia or under its influence, rather than in Poetovio. A comparison between the stele from Lobor and one from Brusnik (mid northern Croatia) (fig. 5), whose typology is completely different although it was also military (legionary) and from the same period and the same province, points to soldiers as an integrated element of the civilian community.

“Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them [...] life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” (Garcia Marquez 165) Introduction The refugee experience is, at heart, one of rebirth. Just as becoming a new, distinctive being—biological birth—necessarily involves the physical separation of mother and infant, so becoming a refugee entails separation from a "mother country." This mother country may or may not be a recognised nation state; the point is that the refugee transitions from physical connectedness to separation, from insider to outsider, from endemic to alien. Like babies, refugees may have little control over the timing and conditions of their expulsion. Successful resettlement requires not one rebirth but multiple rebirths—resettlement is a lifelong process (Layton)—which in turn require hope, imagination, and energy. In rebirthing themselves over and over again, people who have fled or been forced from their homelands become both mother and child. They do not go through this rebirthing alone. A range of agencies and individuals may be there to assist, including immigration officials, settlement services, schools and teachers, employment agencies and employers, English as a Second Language (ESL) resources and instructors, health-care providers, counsellors, diasporic networks, neighbours, church groups, and other community organisations. The nature, intensity, and duration of these “midwives’” interventions—and when they occur and in what combinations—vary hugely from place to place and from person to person, but there is clear evidence that post-migration experiences have a significant impact on settlement outcomes (Fozdar and Hartley). This paper draws on qualitative research I did in 2012 in a regional town in New South Wales to illuminate some of the ways in which settlement aides ease, or impede, refugees’ rebirth as fully recognised and participating Australians. I begin by considering what it means to be resilient before tracing some of the dimensions of the resettlement process. In doing so, I draw on data from interviews and focus groups with former refugees, service providers, and other residents of the town I shall call Easthaven. First, though, a word about Easthaven. As is the case in many rural and regional parts of Australia, Easthaven’s population is strongly dominated by Anglo Celtic and Saxon ancestries: 2011 Census data show that more than 80 per cent of residents were born in Australia (compared with a national figure of 69.8 per cent) and about 90 per cent speak only English at home (76.8 per cent). Almost twice as many people identify as Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander as the national figure of 2.5 per cent (Australian Bureau of Statistics). For several years Easthaven has been an official “Refugee Welcome Zone”, welcoming hundreds of refugees from diverse countries in Africa and the Middle East as well as from Myanmar. This reflects the Department of Immigration and Citizenship’s drive to settle a fifth of Australia’s 13,750 humanitarian entrants a year directly in regional areas. In Easthaven’s schools—which is where I focused my research—almost all of the ESL students are from refugee backgrounds. Defining Resilience Much of the research on human resilience is grounded in psychology, with a capacity to “bounce back” from adverse experiences cited in many definitions of resilience (e.g. American Psychological Association). Bouncing back implies a relatively quick process, and a return to a state or form similar to that which existed before the encounter with adversity. Yet resilience often requires sustained effort and significant changes in identity. As Jerome Rugaruza, a former UNHCR refugee, says of his journey from the Democratic Republic of Congo to Australia: All the steps begin in the burning village: you run with nothing to eat, no clothes. You just go. Then you get to the refugee camp […] You have a little bread and you thank god you are safe. Then after a few years in the camp, you think about a future for your children. You arrive in Australia and then you learn a new language, you learn to drive. There are so many steps and not everyone can do it. (Milsom) Not everyone can do it, but a large majority do. Research by Graeme Hugo, for example, shows that although humanitarian settlers in Australia face substantial barriers to employment and initially have much higher unemployment rates than other immigrants, for most nationality groups this difference has disappeared by the second generation: “This is consistent with the sacrifice (or investment) of the first generation and the efforts extended to attain higher levels of education and English proficiency, thereby reducing the barriers over time.” (Hugo 35). Ingrid Poulson writes that “resilience is not just about bouncing. Bouncing […] is only a reaction. Resilience is about rising—you rise above it, you rise to the occasion, you rise to the challenge. Rising is an active choice” (47; my emphasis) I see resilience as involving mental and physical grit, coupled with creativity, aspiration and, crucially, agency. Dimensions of Resettlement To return to the story of 41-year-old Jerome Rugaruza, as related in a recent newspaper article: He [Mr Rugaruza] describes the experience of being a newly arrived refugee as being like that of a newborn baby. “You need special care; you have to learn to speak [English], eat the different food, create relationships, connections”. (Milsom) This is a key dimension of resettlement: the adult becomes like an infant again, shifting from someone who knows how things work and how to get by to someone who is likely to be, for a while, dependent on others for even the most basic things—communication, food, shelter, clothing, and social contact. The “special care” that most refugee arrivals need initially (and sometimes for a long time) often results in their being seen as deficient—in knowledge, skills, dispositions, and capacities as well as material goods (Keddie; Uptin, Wright and Harwood). As Fozdar and Hartley note: “The tendency to use a deficit model in refugee resettlement devalues people and reinforces the view of the mainstream population that refugees are a liability” (27). Yet unlike newborns, humanitarian settlers come to their new countries with rich social networks and extensive histories of experience and learning—resources that are in fact vital to their rebirth. Sisay (all names are pseudonyms), a year 11 student of Ethiopian heritage who was born in Kenya, told me with feeling: I had a life back in Africa [her emphasis]. It was good. Well, I would go back there if there’s no problems, which—is a fact. And I came here for a better life—yeah, I have a better life, there’s good health care, free school, and good environment and all that. But what’s that without friends? A fellow student, Celine, who came to Australia five years ago from Burundi via Uganda, told me in a focus group: Some teachers are really good but I think some other teachers could be a little bit more encouraging and understanding of what we’ve gone through, because [they] just look at you like “You’re year 11 now, you should know this” […] It’s really discouraging when [the teachers say] in front of the class, “Oh, you shouldn’t do this subject because you haven’t done this this this this” […] It’s like they’re on purpose to tell you “you don’t have what it takes; just give up and do something else.” As Uptin, Wright and Harwood note, “schools not only have the power to position who is included in schooling (in culture and pedagogy) but also have the power to determine whether there is room and appreciation for diversity” (126). Both Sisay and Celine were disheartened by the fact they felt some of their teachers, and many of their peers, had little interest in or understanding of their lives before they came to Australia. The teachers’ low expectations of refugee-background students (Keddie, Uptin, Wright and Harwood) contrasted with the students’ and their families’ high expectations of themselves (Brown, Miller and Mitchell; Harris and Marlowe). When I asked Sisay about her post-school ambitions, she said: “I have a good idea of my future […] write a documentary. And I’m working on it.” Celine’s response was: “I know I’m gonna do medicine, be a doctor.” A third girl, Lily, who came to Australia from Myanmar three years ago, told me she wanted to be an accountant and had studied accounting at the local TAFE last year. Joseph, a father of three who resettled from South Sudan seven years ago, stressed how important getting a job was to successful settlement: [But] you have to get a certificate first to get a job. Even the job of cleaning—when I came here I was told that somebody has to go to have training in cleaning, to use the different chemicals to clean the ground and all that. But that is just sweeping and cleaning with water—you don’t need the [higher-level] skills. Simple jobs like this, we are not able to get them. In regional Australia, employment opportunities tend to be limited (Fozdar and Hartley); the unemployment rate in Easthaven is twice the national average. Opportunities to study are also more limited than in urban centres, and would-be students are not always eligible for financial assistance to gain or upgrade qualifications. Even when people do have appropriate qualifications, work experience, and language proficiency, the colour of their skin may still mean they miss out on a job. Tilbury and Colic-Peisker have documented the various ways in which employers deflect responsibility for racial discrimination, including the “common” strategy (658) of arguing that while the employer or organisation is not prejudiced, they have to discriminate because of their clients’ needs or expectations. I heard this strategy deployed in an interview with a local businesswoman, Catriona: We were advertising for a new technician. And one of the African refugees came to us and he’d had a lot of IT experience. And this is awful, but we felt we couldn't give him the job, because we send our technicians into people's houses, and we knew that if a black African guy rocked up at someone’s house to try and fix their computer, they would not always be welcomed in all—look, it would not be something that [Easthaven] was ready for yet. Colic-Peisker and Tilbury (Refugees and Employment) note that while Australia has strict anti-discrimination legislation, this legislation may be of little use to the people who, because of the way they look and sound (skin colour, dress, accent), are most likely to face prejudice and discrimination. The researchers found that perceived discrimination in the labour market affected humanitarian settlers’ sense of satisfaction with their new lives far more than, for example, racist remarks, which were generally shrugged off; the students I interviewed spoke of racism as “expected,” but “quite rare.” Most of the people Colic-Peisker and Tilbury surveyed reported finding Australians “friendly and accepting” (33). Even if there is no active discrimination on the basis of skin colour in employment, education, or housing, or overt racism in social situations, visible difference can still affect a person’s sense of belonging, as Joseph recounts: I think of myself as Australian, but my colour doesn’t [laughs] […] Unfortunately many, many Australians are expecting that Australia is a country of Europeans … There is no need for somebody to ask “Where do you come from?” and “Do you find Australia here safe?” and “Do you enjoy it?” Those kind of questions doesn’t encourage that we are together. This highlights another dimension of resettlement: the journey from feeling “at home” to feeling “foreign” to, eventually, feeling at home again in the host country (Colic-Peisker and Tilbury, Refugees and Employment). In the case of visibly different settlers, however, this last stage may never be completed. Whether the questions asked of Joseph are well intentioned or not, their effect may be the same: they position him as a “forever foreigner” (Park). A further dimension of resettlement—one already touched on—is the degree to which humanitarian settlers actively manage their “rebirth,” and are allowed and encouraged to do so. A key factor will be their mastery of English, and Easthaven’s ESL teachers are thus pivotal in the resettlement process. There is little doubt that many of these teachers have gone to great lengths to help this cohort of students, not only in terms of language acquisition but also social inclusion. However, in some cases what is initially supportive can, with time, begin to undermine refugees’ maturity into independent citizens. Sharon, an ESL teacher at one of the schools, told me how she and her colleagues would give their refugee-background students lifts to social events: But then maybe three years down the track they have a car and their dad can drive, but they still won’t take them […] We arrive to pick them up and they’re not ready, or there’s five fantastic cars in the driveway, and you pick up the student and they say “My dad’s car’s much bigger and better than yours” [laughs]. So there’s an expectation that we’ll do stuff for them, but we’ve created that [my emphasis]. Other support services may have more complex interests in keeping refugee settlers dependent. The more clients an agency has, the more services it provides, and the longer clients stay on its books, the more lucrative the contract for the agency. Thus financial and employment imperatives promote competition rather than collaboration between service providers (Fozdar and Hartley; Sidhu and Taylor) and may encourage assumptions about what sorts of services different individuals and groups want and need. Colic-Peisker and Tilbury (“‘Active’ and ‘Passive’ Resettlement”) have developed a typology of resettlement styles—“achievers,” “consumers,” “endurers,” and “victims”—but stress that a person’s style, while influenced by personality and pre-migration factors, is also shaped by the institutions and individuals they come into contact with: “The structure of settlement and welfare services may produce a victim mentality, leaving members of refugee communities inert and unable to see themselves as agents of change” (76). The prevailing narrative of “the traumatised refugee” is a key aspect of this dynamic (Colic-Peisker and Tilbury, “‘Active’ and ‘Passive’ Resettlement”; Fozdar and Hartley; Keddie). Service providers may make assumptions about what humanitarian settlers have gone through before arriving in Australia, how they have been affected by their experiences, and what must be done to “fix” them. Norah, a long-time caseworker, told me: I think you get some [providers] who go, “How could you have gone through something like that and not suffered? There must be—you must have to talk about this stuff” […] Where some [refugees] just come with the [attitude] “We’re all born into a situation; that was my situation, but I’m here now and now my focus is this.” She cited failure to consider cultural sensitivities around mental illness and to recognise that stress and anxiety during early resettlement are normal (Tilbury) as other problems in the sector: [Newly arrived refugees] go through the “happy to be here” [phase] and now “hang on, I’ve thumped to the bottom and I’m missing my own foods and smells and cultures and experiences”. I think sometimes we’re just too quick to try and slot people into a box. One factor that appears to be vital in fostering and sustaining resilience is social connection. Norah said her clients were “very good on the mobile phone” and had links “everywhere,” including to family and friends in their countries of birth, transition countries, and other parts of Australia. A 2011 report for DIAC, Settlement Outcomes of New Arrivals, found that humanitarian entrants to Australia were significantly more likely to be members of cultural and/or religious groups than other categories of immigrants (Australian Survey Research). I found many examples of efforts to build both bonding and bridging capital (Putnam) in Easthaven, and I offer two examples below. Several people told me about a dinner-dance that had been held a few weeks before one of my visits. The event was organised by an African women’s group, which had been formed—with funding assistance—several years before. The dinner-dance was advertised in the local newspaper and attracted strong interest from a broad cross-section of Easthaveners. To Debbie, a counsellor, the response signified a “real turnaround” in community relations and was a big boon to the women’s sense of belonging. Erica, a teacher, told me about a cultural exchange day she had organised between her bush school—where almost all of the children are Anglo Australian—and ESL students from one of the town schools: At the start of the day, my kids were looking at [the refugee-background students] and they were scared, they were saying to me, "I feel scared." And we shoved them all into this tiny little room […] and they had no choice but to sit practically on top of each other. And by the end of the day, they were hugging each other and braiding their hair and jumping and playing together. Like Uptin, Wright and Harwood, I found that the refugee-background students placed great importance on the social aspects of school. Sisay, the girl I introduced earlier in this paper, said: “It’s just all about friendship and someone to be there for you […] We try to be friends with them [the non-refugee students] sometimes but sometimes it just seems they don’t want it.” Conclusion A 2012 report on refugee settlement services in NSW concludes that the state “is not meeting its responsibility to humanitarian entrants as well as it could” (Audit Office of New South Wales 2); moreover, humanitarian settlers in NSW are doing less well on indicators such as housing and health than humanitarian settlers in other states (3). Evaluating the effectiveness of formal refugee-centred programs was not part of my research and is beyond the scope of this paper. Rather, I have sought to reveal some of the ways in which the attitudes, assumptions, and everyday practices of service providers and members of the broader community impact on refugees' settlement experience. 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