Journal articles on the topic 'Luces de bohemia'

Es la primera de las cuatro obras que Ramón María del Valle Inclán llamó Esperpentos. Fue escrita en 1920 y publicada en 1924. Presenta, en quince escenas, la última noche de vida del poeta ciego Max Estrella. Luces de Bohemia está más bien dividida en cuadros que se estructuran siguiendo una unidad dramática.

En Luces de Bohemia Valle-Inclán presenta una serie de incidentes que el protagonista, el poeta ciego Max Estrella, encuentra en su camino, casi accidentalmente. Por medio de estos incidentes Max toma conciencia, gradualmente, de cosas que anteriormente no habían atraído su atención a causa de su continua preocupación por lo que él piensa es su propia "tragedia".

El esperpento es una técnica literaria creada por Ramón del Valle-Inclán la cual se distingue por examinar una deformación sistemática de la realidad, acentuando sus atributos grotescos, feos, monstruosos e incoherentes ahí donde los animales y las cosas se humanizan mientras que los seres humanos se animalizan. También, el esperpento constituye una manera de vislumbrar el mundo y de desenmascarar la realidad. Este análisis esperpéntico se realiza tomando en cuenta las obras valleinclanesas Luces de Bohemia (1920) y Divinas palabras (1920).

Alain Riffaud’s works suggest a new critical reading of dra- matic prose: offering a distinct interpretation of Luces de bohemia’s prose dynamics through the prism of ‘pneumatics’ (Riffaud, 2007), the present article brings to light the existence, throughout the play, of a specific rhythm in Esperpento dramatic prose, which relates to the notion of sen- sory anamorphosis (visual and auditory), a polymorphous component that underlies the writing. Applying the notions of ‘pneumatics’ and ‘trompe-l’oreille’ (Féron, 2010) to the study of Ramón del Valle-Inclán’s dramatic prose allows to examine the characters’ language energy by articulating the notions of breath and breathing with that of sensory mirage.

Este trabajo explorará las conexiones entre César Vallejo y Ramón María del Valle-Inclán (1866-1936), novelista, dramaturgo y poeta español. Ya se ha notado que Vallejo se inspiró en uno de los versos de Valle-Inclán para el título de su novela, Fabla salvaje (1923). Sin embargo, la conexión entre estos dos escritores es aún más profunda. Basándose en el uso del esperpento, expuesto en la obra de teatro Luces de bohemia (publicada por primera vez en 1920, y en versión definitiva en 1924), se hará una comparación con los textos teatrales de Vallejo, en particular con su obra Entre las dos orillas corre el río (comenzada en 1930 bajo el título Moscú contra Moscú) y varias colecciones de tratados sobre el valor y la función del teatro. En los dos autores el esperpento, efectivamente, representa la dificultad de evolucionar entre generaciones, de transicionar entre el pasado y el futuro. Mientras en Valle-Inclán los personajes sufren físicamente para superar el plano ético, en Vallejo vemos que lo físico y lo ético no se separan, sino que profundizan la complejidad del existir en el tiempo. Tanto en el arte como en la política, el progreso se ve limitado por las condiciones físicas que inscriben y demarcan toda experiencia humana. ABSTRACTThis paper explores the connections between Cesar Vallejo and Ramon Maria del Valle-Inclan (1866-1936), Spanish novelist, playwright and poet. So far, we have seen that Vallejo was inspired by one of the verses of Valle-Inclan for the title of his novel, Fabla salvaje (‘Wild Fabla’, 1923); however, the connection between these two writers is even deeper. Based on the use of the esperpento ‘grotesque’, exposed in the work of Luces de bohemia (‘Lights of bohemia’) first published in 1920 and in final version in 1924, there will be a comparison with the theatrical texts of Vallejo, in particular with his work Entre las dos orillas corre el río (‘Between the Two Shores Run the River’), started in 1931, and several collections of treaties of theater’s value and function. Both authors represent esperpento, as a difficulty of evolving between generations, of transition between the past and the future. While in Valle-Inclan’s characters suffer physically to overcome the ethical plane, in Vallejo, the physical and ethical planes are not separated, but that deepens the complexity of existing in the time. Progress is limited by the physical conditions that register and draw all human experience in art and politics. Keywords: grotesque, distortion, physical body, theater, Valle-Inclan.

En este breve ensayo abordamos una de las principales contribuciones artísticas de Valle-Inclán a la dramaturgia: la creación del esperpento como forma de representación de una realidad (mímesis), España, que en los años 20 caminaba, tras el desastre del 98, hacia la Guerra Civil, fruto de una apariencia fatua, de un aislamiento ideológico con relación a Europa y sin más referencias que la corrupción administrativa y las fatuas e inanes diatribas de los intelectuales. La propuesta de Valle pasa por definir la realidad como la grotesca imagen que proyectan los espejos cóncavos del Callejón del Gato, imagen que no es la deformada, sino la real, calificando como deformada la apariencia habitual de las cosas, la tradición, el casticismo rancio. Esta deformación de la civilización europea que representa España se repasa a través del periplo que Max Estrella y Don Latino realizan por las calles y los ambientes del Madrid nocturno, con su bohemia, sus prostitutas, los tugurios en los que borrachos y poetas modernistas coinciden, la cárcel, y hasta el despacho de un ministro. Figuras y personajes que transitan en la marginalidad y a los que el autor mimetiza como peleles, muñecos de trapo, marionetas de los guiñoles. Ese mismo Madrid al que aludía Manuel Machado en su madurez modernista. Aspectos ideológicos, formales y lingüísticos caracterizan este esperpento, propuesta de género teatral al pairo de las vanguardias literarias de la época. Hemos tenido presentes para la elaboración de este ensayo las más destacadas aportaciones sobre el tema, entre ellas: Cepeda Adán (1966), Zamora Vicente (1967), Amate Blanco (1978), Tusón; Lázaro (1980) o Blanco Aguinaga et al (2000).

Es el momento en que la banda Queen inicia su intervención en el memorable concierto de rock Live Aid para combatir el hambre en Etiopía, celebrado el 13 de julio de 1985, en el estadio Wembley de Londres; recital considerado como el mejor hasta la fecha y la actuación de Queen, con un Mercury glorioso, ante un espléndido escenario, calificada como la actuación más brillante de la historia del rock. Un flashback nos remonta a los orígenes del grupo y nos guía por la trayectoria vital de su líder, Freddie Mercury.Como dicen los protagonistas, Queen es un grupo de inadaptados que toca para inadaptados. Pero también es la familia que apoya incondicionalmente, sin juzgar, y que alienta la creatividad liberadora de sus miembros. A través de la música de Queen reviviremos las luces y las sombras de las décadas de 1970 y 1980, y entenderemos las circunstancias sociales que fraguaron el “mejor grupo británico de todos los tiempos” (título otorgado tras un sondeo realizado por la emisora BBC Radio 2 en 2007). (*) Recomendación bibliográfica: A. Casas. (2018). Freddie Mercury. Una biografía. Barcelona: Penguin Random House Editorial.

Teratopactus Heller (Entiminae : Naupactini) is a broad-nosed weevil genus widespread in South America. This first taxonomic revision of the genus includes seven species: T. capucinus (Perty) (type species; syn. T. senex (Boheman)); T. elegans (Lucas), comb.nov.; T. gibbicollis (Boheman); T. nodicollis (Boheman) (syn. T. angulicollis (Lucas), T. paulanus (Fonseca & Autuori), T. serripes (Boheman), and T. perpastus (Boheman), syn. nov.); T. retusus (Boheman); T. tuberculatus (Arrow); and T. vittatus (Mannerheim), comb.nov. All species except T. tuberculatus have a strong ovipositor lacking styli, T. elegans, T. nodicollis and T. vittatus show well developed humeri bearing a strong tooth and T. retusus, T. capucinus and T. gibbicollis are characterised by a strongly gibbous pronotum and reduced humeri. Teratopactus nodicollis is the most variable and widespread species (Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Paraguay and Uruguay), T. tuberculatus and T. elegans range through Brazil and Paraguay and the remaining species are endemic to Brazil. The first cladistic analysis of the genus Teratopactus plus two outgroups, using 36 morphological characters, established synapomorphies and revealed relationships between the species in a single cladogram with the following topology: (T. tuberculatus ((T. elegans (T. nodicollis– T. vittatus)) (T. retusus (T. capucinus–T. gibbicollis)))).

Thirty-three pear cultivars and selections of potential interest to pear producers and plant breeders in the Czech Republic were tested for relative field susceptibility to the fire blight (Erwinia amylovora) over five years. Level of fire blight susceptibility was evaluated according to the extent of lesion development on the shoot tips after artificial inoculation in experimental plots under insect proof nets. Old cvs Alexander Lucas (as resistant standard), Conference (as moderately resistant standard) and Beurré Bosc (as susceptible standard) were included in the tests. The 33 pear cultivars and selections were tested, only one of them was highly resistant (3.0%), 3.0% were evaluated as resistant, 12.1% moderately resistant, 36.4% moderately susceptible, 18.2% susceptible and 27.3% highly susceptible. Breeding selection US 625-63-10 was the only highly resistant pear genotype (necrosis of shoots of 0–7.0%). Resistant genotype group (necrosis 7.1–13.0%) comprised US 625-63-4. Moderately resistant genotypes (necrosis 13.1–25.0%) included cvs Alexander Lucas, Alfa, Bohemica and HL 31-50-31. Highly susceptible genotypes (necrosis more than 80.1%) included cvs Vonka, Karina, Bona, Decora, Elektra, Milka, Regina, Alice and TE 4763. The remaining genotypes were moderately susceptible (necrosis 26.1–60.0%) and susceptible (necrosis 60.1–80.0%).    

Luther's student Johann Mathesius, longtime pastor in the Bohemian mining town of Joachimsthal, provides a lens for seeing early modern art and artists through Lutheran eyes, challenging modern interpretations of the dire consequences of the Reformation for the visual arts.1For Mathesius, pre-Reformation art provided not only evidence of old idolatry but also testimony to the preservation of Evangelical faith under the papacy. After the Reformation, Joachimsthal's Lutherans were active in commissioning new works of art to fill the first newly built Protestant church, including an altarpiece from Lucas Cranach's workshop. Mathesius's appreciation of this art includes not only its biblical and doctrinal content but also its aesthetic quality. In an extended sermon on the construction of the Tabernacle in Exodus 31, Mathesius draws on Luther's theology of the special inspiration of the “great men” of world history to develop a Lutheran theology of artistic inspiration, in which artists are endowed by the Holy Spirit with extraordinary skills and special creative gifts, intended to be used in service of the neighbor by adorning the divinely appointed estates of government, church, and household.

A molecular phylogeny of the western Palearctic weevil genus Kyklioacalles Stüben, 1999 is presented, combining two mitochondrial genes (CO1 and 16S) in a Bayesian analysis. Based on molecular data, the validity of the subspecies Kyklioacalles punctaticollis punctaticollis (Lucas, 1849) and Kyklioacalles punctaticollis meteoricus (Meyer, 1909) is discussed and the morphological differentiation of the endophalli and known distributions of both subspecies are verified. Glaberacalles subg. n. (formerly Kyklioacalles punctaticollis-group) and two new species are described, Kyklioacalles atlasicus sp.n. from Morocco and Kyklioacalles plantapilosus sp.n. from Spain. Kyklioacalles berberi (Stüben, 2005), comb. n. and Kyklioacalles olcesei (Tournier, 1873) comb. n. are transferred from Acalles Schoenherr. The molecular results further advocate a transfer of Onyxacalles pyrenaeus (Boheman, 1844) to Kyklioacalles; however this is not supported by morphological evidence. Kyklioacalles almadensis Stüben, 2004 syn. n. (Spain) is synonymized with Kyklioacalles bupleuri Stüben, 2004 (Tunisia). A catalogue of all 40 (sub-)species of Kyklioacalles is given and a key of the species of the subgenus Glaberacalles is presented.

The city has fascinated the street wanderer as the contemplation of modern life. Walter Benjamin’s conception of ‘flâneur,’ originally borrowed from Charles Baudelaire, could be taken as the true legacy of such fascination. There is always a sense of nostalgia being revealed through the flânerie of the city stroller passing through the metropolis, its shopping centers, and boulevards nourishing the mind of the bohemic storyteller with tales of post-aural experience and memory. Adapting Walter Benjamin’s concept of ‘flânerie’ in the streets of Paris to those of Tehran, the present paper attempts to explore Sina Dadkhah’s Yousef Abad, Street 33 in order to demonstrate the post-aural stories of the flaneurs in an Iranian milieu. This article focuses on the modern aspect of the Iranian contemporary society and explores the immediate consequences of modernity on the individual subjectivity of the characters represented in the novel. Considering Dadkhah’s novel as a product of the urban literature of a generation dealing with modernity of the arcades and other lures of the megapolis on the one hand and feeling of nostalgia for their past spirit on the other, the paper simultaneously reveals the close affinity between the subjectivity of the characters and Benjaminian tenets of flânerie and modern storytellers. The flaneurs represented in the novel, by rambling through and about the city of Tehran, are turning to be the storytellers who narrate their ‘post-aural’ experiences. In Yousef Abad, Street 33 the central characters are, as fully manifested in the paper, deeply engaged in the experiences of a modern sense of living while wandering to console their wistful longings despite the everyday challenges.

The chironomid material described by Lundstr m (1915) from the Russian polar expedition in the years 1900 1903 is analysed. Derotanypus limbatus (Lundstr m, 1915) (as Ablabesmyia) is a senior synonym of Ablabesmyia quadrinotata Lundstr m, 1915; Orthocladius pubitarsis sensu Lundstr m, not Zetterstedt, 1838, is identical to Psectrocladius (Psectrocladius) sokolovae Zelentsov & Makarchenko, 1988; Orthocladius cinereipennis sensu Lundstr m, 1915, is a junior synonym of Heterotrissocladius subpilosus (Kieffer 1911); Orthocladius alpicola sensu Lundstr m, not Zetterstedt, 1850, is identical to Acricotopus lucens Zetterstedt, 1850; Orthocladius marginatus Lundstr m, 1915 a junior synonym of O. (Pogonocladius) consobrinus (Holmgren, 1869); Orthocladius (Orthocladius) nitidoscutellatus Lundstr m, 1915 a senior synonym of O. trigonolabis Edwards, 1924; Chaetocladius binotatus (Lundstr m, 1915) comb. n. probably a senior synonym of C. validus Brundin, 1956; Paralimnophyes trilineatus (Lundstr m, 1915) comb. n. a senior synonym of P. arcticus Brundin, 1956; Camptocladius incertus Lundstr m, 1915 a junior synonym of Chaetocladius perennis (Meigen, 1830); Chironomus lundstroemi sp. n. (= C. staegeri sensu Lundstr m, not Lundbeck, 1898), is described as male and female; Chironomus niveipennis sensu Lundstr m, not Fabricius, 1805, is identical to Chironomus trabicola Shobanov, W lker & Kiknadze, 2002. The following validly named and recognisable species are redescribed: Derotanypus limbatus (Lundstr m) (male and female); D. sibiricus (Kruglova & Chernovskii) (male and female); Diamesa chorea sensu Lundstr m, not Lundbeck, 1898, (female); Orthocladius pallidicornis Lundstr m, 1915 (male and female); Chaetocladius binotatus (Lundstr m) (male hypopygium); Chaetocladius perennis (Meigen, 1830) (male); Paralimnophyes trilineatus (Lundstr m) (male and female); Smittia brevipennis (Boheman, 1856) (female); C. flavoviridis Lundstr m, 1915 (female); C. trabicola (additions to male, female).

Michael Lucas Leopold Willmann (1630–1706) was born in Königsberg (now Kalinin grad in Russia), where his first teacher was Christian Peter, a well -off guild painter. After years of journeys of apprenticeship and learning in the Netherlands, the young artist returned to his homeland, after Matthias Czwiczek’s death in 1654 probably hoping for the position of the painter at the court of Great Elector Frederick William (1620–1688).What served to draw the ruler’s attention to himself was probably the lost painting, described by Johann Joachim von Sandrart as follows: ‘the Vulcan with his cyclops makes armour for Mars and a shield and a spear for Minerva’. The failure of these efforts led the future ‘Apelles’ to emigrate to Silesia, where he created a family painting workshop in Lubiąż (Leubus), and following the conversion from Calvinism to Catholicism, he became a Cistercian painter, creating famous works of art in religious or secular centres of Crown Bohemia. What connects him to Prussia is another painting of great importance in his career, the little -known ‘Apotheosis of the Great Elector as a Guardian of Arts’ from 1682. The successor to Great Elector Frederick III (1657–1713) was crowned in 1701 as the ‘king of Prussia’. The ceremony required an appropriate artistic setting, which prompted many artists to flock to Königsberg, including a Dutchman from Leiden, the painter Justus Bentum, a pupil of Gottfred Schalken, who reached the capital of the new kingdom together with his son Philip Christian. After studying from his father, Philip Christian Bentum (ok. 1690 – po 1757) followed in the footsteps of the famous Willmann, and went on a journey, from which he never returned to Prussia. He went first to imperial Prague, where he collaborated with Peter Brandl and converted to Catholicism, following which he travelled to Silesia. After 1731, he took part in the artistic projects of Bishop Franz Ludwig von Pfalz–Neuburg of Wrocław (Breslau) and Abbot Constantin Beyer, who completed the project begun by Freiberger and Willmann: the extension and decoration of the Cistercian Abbey in Lubiąż. It was there that he made the largest in Europe canvas -painted oil plafond of the Prince’s Hall and completed his opus magnum: covering all the library walls and vaults with painting. Those pro -Habsburg works were finished two years before the death of Emperor Charles VI (1685–1740) and the military invasion of Silesia by Frederick II Hohenzollern (1712–1786), great - -grandson of the Great Elector. The fate of the artists mentioned in the title was intertwined with Königsberg and Lubiąż. Both converts set off for the professional maturity from the Prussian capital via Prague to Silesia. They can be compared by the Dutch sources of their art and a compilation method of creating images using print ‘prototypes’. Their inner discrepancy can be seen in the choice of these patterns, as they followed both the Catholic Rubens and the Protestant Rembrandt Van Rijn. They were connected with the provinces playing a key role in Central -European politics: here the Hohenzollerns competed for power in Central Europe with the Habsburgs. They were witnessesto the game for winning Silesia, and even took part in it by creating propagandistic art. Both of them worked for Bishop Franz Ludwig von Pfalz–Neuburg (1664–1732), associated with the Emperor, a kind of the capo di tutti capi of the Counter -Reformation in Silesia. Bentum eagerly imitated selected compositions of his predecessor and master from Lubiąż, and I think he even tried to surpass him in scale and precision. The artistic competition with Willman is visible in the paintings of the library in Lubiąż. There, he presented an Allegory of Painting, which shows the image of Willmann carried by an angel, while the inscription praising the qualities of his character calls him ‘Apelles’. The work of both painters, who took their first steps in the profession as Protestants in Königsberg, but became famous through their work for Catholics, provides an interesting material for the analysis of the general topic of artistic careers on the periphery of Europe, the relationship between the centres and the periphery, as well as for two stages of re -Catholisation in Silesia treated as an instrument of power. It was usually pointed out how much separates the two painters, but no one has ever tried to show what unites them. The comparison of the sources, motifs, and outstanding achievements of both of them, especially in Lubiąż, gives a more complete picture of their activity deeply immersed in the politics of their times. This picture is not as unambiguous as it has been so far, highlighting the political and propaganda aspects of their career spreading out between the coastal Protestant north and the Catholic south. The drama of their lives took place in Silesia, where the multiple dividing lines of Europe intersected. The idea of narrating the parallel fates of two artists with great Politics in the background (as in he case of Plutarch’s ‘Parallel Lives’) came to my mind years ago when I curated the Exhibition ‘Willmann – Drawings. A Baroque Artist’s Workshop’ (2001, National Museum in Wrocław, in cooperation with Salzburg and Stuttgart). The present paper was to be included in the volume accompanying that project initiated by Andrzej Kozieł (Willmann and Others. Painting, Drawing and Graphic Arts in Silesia and Neighbouring Countries in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, ed. A. Kozieł, B. Lejman, Wrocław 2002), but I withdrew from its publication. I am hereby publishing it, thanking Małgorzata Omilanowska for her presence at the opening of this first great exhibition of mine in 2001, as well for the excellent cooperation with my Austrian, Czech, German, and Polish colleagues. This text, referring to the topic of our discussions at the time – as on the event of the above -mentioned exhibition I spoke at a press conference in Stuttgart’s Staatsgalerie, where the curator of the German exhibition was Hans Martin Kaulbach, exactly two days after the attack on WTC.

Resumen: Ramón del Valle-Inclán y Jacinto Grau destacaron por Luces de Bohemia y El señor de Pigmalión, respectivamente. A pesar de ser obras bien diferentes, vamos a llevar a cabo un estudio comparatista y relacional entre ellas. Esta investigación pretende demostrar que los dos autores recurren a la desrealización para crear obras no miméticas que, sin embargo, dan como resultado una crítica de la propia sociedad y retoman la eterna preocupación existencial del ser humano. De este modo, lo que aparentemente es insólito se convierte en un reflejo de la esencia humana y social.

Este artículo presenta, en primer lugar, el proceso de trabajo para la construcción de la Biblioteca Electrónica Textual del Teatro en Español (1868-1936) del Grupo de Humanidades y Edición Digital (GHEDI). Dentro de las decisiones y labores realizadas hasta la fecha encontramos: la elección de los autores, el proceso de trabajo de las obras que se han editado con lenguaje de marcado XML-TEI, la construcción de metadatos y la utilización posterior de grafos para el análisis de las piezas dramáticas. En segundo lugar, encontramos una reflexión sobre el valor del uso de los grafos y el alcance de los metadatos empleados, a partir del estudio de los grafos elaborados sobre dos obras: Electra de Benito Pérez Galdós y Luces de bohemia de Valle-Inclán.

O Líquen Plano Oral (LPO) é uma doença crônica imunologicamente mediada com potencial de malignização incerto. O objetivo desse artigo é relatar um caso de Carcinoma de Células Escamosas (CCE) diagnosticado em paciente com diagnóstico prévio de LPO. Paciente do sexo feminino, 69 anos, foi atendida durante uma campanha de diagnóstico precoce de câncer de boca realizada na cidade de Londrina/PR, sendo detectada uma lesão eritroplásica em língua e encaminhada para uma melhor avaliação. Na anamnese a paciente relatou que há 2 anos atrás foi diagnosticada com LPO através de biópsia em língua, não sendo proposto nenhum tratamento. Ao exame físico, observamos uma mancha eritematosa em borda lateral de língua do lado esquerdo, não apresentando nenhuma outra lesão na cavidade oral. Com a hipótese diagnóstica de eritroplasia, foi requisitada a lâmina da biópsia anterior para análise, que revelou características microscópicas incompatíveis com o diagnóstico de LPO. Optamos então por realizar uma nova biópsia e a análise histopatológica revelou ilhas de células epiteliais malignas invadindo o tecido conjuntivo, estabelecendo o diagnóstico de CCE. A paciente foi encaminhada para tratamento, sendo realizada glossectomia parcial. Em acompanhamento de 6 meses a paciente encontra-se bem e sem sinais de recidiva. A transformação maligna do LPO ainda é discutida na literatura e muitos casos relatados podem se tratar de erro no diagnóstico inicial, como no caso apresentado. O erro de diagnóstico pode levar a morbidades importantes e comprometer o prognóstico do caso.Descritores: Diagnóstico; Líquen Plano; Carcinoma de Células Escamosas.ReferênciasGiuliani M, Troiano G, Cordaro M, Corsalini M, Gioco G, Lo Muzio L et al. Rate of malignant transformation of Oral Lichen Planus: a systematic review. Oral Dis. 2019; 25(3):693-709.Bardellini E, Amadori F, Flocchini P, Bonadeo S, Majorana A. 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IntroductionAustralia is at a particular point in its history where there is a noticeable diaspora of artists and creative practitioners away from the major capitals of Sydney and Melbourne (in particular), driven in no small part by ballooning house prices of the last eight years. This has meant big changes for some regional spaces, and in turn, for the face of Australian cultural life. Regional cultural precincts are forming with tourist flows, funding attention and cultural economies. Likewise, there appears to be growing consciousness in the ‘art centres’ of Melbourne and Sydney of interesting and relevant activities outside their limits. This research draws on my experience as an art practitioner, curator and social researcher in one such region (Castlemaine in Central Victoria), and particularly from a recent interview series I have conducted in collaboration with art space in that region, Wide Open Road Art. In this, 23 regional and city-based artists were asked about the social, economic and local conditions that can and have supported their art practices. Drawing from these conversations and Bourdieu’s ideas around cultural production, the article suggests that authentic, diverse, interesting and disruptive creative practices in Australian cultural life involve the increasingly pressing need for security while existing outside the modern imperative of high consumption; of finding alternative ways to live well while entering into the shared space of cultural production. Indeed, it is argued that often it is the capacity to defy key economic paradigms, for example of ‘rational (economic) self-interest’, that allows creative life to flourish (Bourdieu Field; Ley “Artists”). While regional spaces present new opportunities for this, there are pitfalls and nuances worth exploring.Changes in Regional AustraliaAustralia has long been an urbanising nation. Since Federation our cities have increased from a third to now constituting two-thirds of the country’s total population (Gray and Lawrence 6; ABS), making us one of the most urbanised countries in the world. Indeed, as machines replaced manual labour on farms; as Australia’s manufacturing industry began its decline; and as young people in particular left the country for city universities (Gray and Lawrence), the post-war industrial-economic boom drove this widespread demographic and economic shift. In the 1980s closures of regional town facilities like banks, schools and hospitals propelled widespread belief that regional Australia was in crisis and would be increasingly difficult to sustain (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; Gray and Lawrence 2; Barr et al.; ABS). However, the late 1990s and early 21st century saw a turnaround that has been referred to by some as the rise of the ‘sea change’. That is, widespread renewed interest and idealisation of not just coastal areas but anywhere outside the city (Murphy). It was a simultaneous pursuit of “a small ‘a’ alternative lifestyle” and escape from rising living costs in urban areas, especially for the unemployed, single parents and those with disabilities (Murphy). This renewed interest has been sustained. The latest wave, or series of waves, have coincided with the post-GFC house price spike, of cheap credit and lenient lending designed to stimulate the economy. This initiative in part led to Sydney and Melbourne median dwelling prices rising by up to 114% in eight years (Scutt 2017), which alone had a huge influence on who was able to afford to live in city areas and who was not. Rapid population increases and diminished social networks and familial support are also considered drivers that sent a wave of people (a million since 2011) towards the outer fringes of the cities and to ‘commuter belt’ country towns (Docherty; Murphy). While the underprivileged are clearly most disadvantaged in what has actually been a global development process (see Jayne on this, and on the city as a consumer itself), artists and creatives are also a unique category who haven’t fared well with hyper-urbanisation (Ley “Artists”). Despite the class privilege that often accompanies such a career choice, the economic disadvantage art professions often involve has seen a diaspora of artists moving to regional areas, particularly those in the hinterlands around and train lines to major centres. We see the recent ‘rise of a regional bohemia’ (Regional Australia Institute): towns like Toowoomba, Byron Bay, Surf Coast, Gold Coast-Tweed, Kangaroo Valley, Wollongong, Warburton, Bendigo, Tooyday, New Norfolk, and countless more being re-identified as arts towns and precincts. In Australia in 2016–17, 1 in 6 professional artists, and 1 in 4 visual artists, were living in a regional town (Throsby and Petetskaya). Creative arts in regional Australia makes up a quarter of the nation’s creative output and is a $2.8 billion industry; and our regions particularly draw in creative practitioners in their prime productive years (aged 24 to 44) (Regional Australia Institute).WORA Conservation SeriesIn 2018 artist and curator Helen Mathwin and myself received a local shire grant to record a conversation series with 23 artists who were based in the Central Goldfields region of Victoria as well as further afield, but who had a connection to the regional arts space we run, WideOpenRoadArt (WORA). In videoed, in-depth, approximately hour-long, semi-structured interviews conducted throughout 2018, we spoke to artists (16 women and 7 men) about the relocation phenomenon we were witnessing in our own growing arts town. Most were interviewed in WORA’s roving art float, but we seized any ad hoc opportunity we had to have genuine discussions with people. Focal points were around sustainability of practice and the social conditions that supported artists’ professional pursuits. This included accessing an arts community, circles of cultural production, and the ‘art centre’; the capacity to exhibit; but also, social factors such as affordable housing and the ability to live on a low-income while having dependants; and so on. The conversations were rich with lived experiences and insights on these issues.Financial ImperativesIn line with the discussion above, the most prominent factor we noticed in the interviews was the inescapable importance of being able to live cheaply. The consistent message that all of the interviewees, both regional- and city-based, conveyed was that a career in art-making required an important independence from the need to earn a substantial income. One interviewee commented: “I do run my art as a business, I have an ABN […] it makes a healthy loss! I don’t think I’ve ever made a profit […].” Another put it: “now that I’m in [this] town and I have a house and stuff I do feel like there is maybe a bit more security around those daily things that will hopefully give me space to [make artworks].”Much has been said on the pervasive inability to monetise art careers, notably Bourdieu’s observations that art exists on an interdependent field of cultural capital, determining for itself an autonomous conception of value separate to economics (Bourdieu, Field 39). This is somewhat similar to the idea of art as a sacred phenomenon irreducible to dollar terms (Abbing 38; see also Benjamin’s “aura”; “The Work of Art”). Art’s difficult relationship with commodification is part of its heroism that Benjamin described (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79), its potential to sanctify mainstream society by staying separate to the lowly aspirations of commerce (Ley “Artists” 2529). However, it is understood, artists still need to attain professional education and capacities, yet they remain at the bottom of the income ladder not only professionally, but in the case of visual artists, they remain at the bottom of the creative income hierarchies as well. Further to this, within visual arts, only a tiny proportion achieve financially backed success (Menger 277). “Artistic labour markets are characterised by high risk of failure, excess supply of recruits, low artistic income level, skewed income distribution and multiple jobholding” (Mangset, Torvik Heian, Kleppe, and Løyland; Menger). Mangset et al. point to ideas that have long surrounded the “charismatic artist myth,” of a quasi-metaphysical calling to be an artist that can lead one to overlook the profession’s vast pitfalls in terms of economic sustainability. One interviewee described it as follows: “From a very young age I wanted to be an artist […] so there’s never been a time that I’ve thought that’s not what I’m doing.” A 1% rule seems widely acknowledged in how the profession manages the financial winners against those who miss out; the tiny proportion of megastar artists versus a vast struggling remainder.As even successful artists often dip below the poverty line between paid engagements, housing costs can make the difference between being able to live in an area and not (Turnbull and Whitford). One artist described:[the reason we moved here from Melbourne] was financial, yes definitely. We wouldn’t have been able to purchase a property […] in Melbourne, we would not have been able to live in place that we wanted to live, and to do what we wanted to do […]. It was never an option for us to get a big mortgage.Another said:It partly came about as a financial practicality to move out here. My partner […] wanted to be in the bush, but I was resistant at first, we were in Melbourne but we just couldn’t afford Melbourne in the end, we had an apartment, we had a studio. My partner was a cabinet maker then. You know, just every month all our money went to rent and we just couldn’t manage anymore. So we thought, well maybe if we come out to the bush […] It was just by a happy accident that we found a property […] that we could afford, that was off-grid so it cut the bills down for us [...] that had a little studio and already had a little cottage on there that we could rent that out to get money.For a prominent artist we spoke to this issue was starkly reflected. Despite large exhibitions at some of the highest profile galleries in regional Victoria, the commissions offered for these shows were so insubstantial that the artist and their family had to take on staggering sums of personal debt to execute the ambitious and critically acclaimed shows. Another very successful artist we interviewed who had shown widely at ‘A-list’ international arts institutions and received several substantial grants, spoke of their dismay and pessimism at the idea of financial survival. For all artists we spoke to, pursuing their arts practice was in constant tension with economic imperatives, and their lives had all been shaped by the need to make shrewd decisions to continue practising. There were two artists out of the 23 we interviewed who considered their artwork able to provide full-time income, although this still relied on living costs remaining extremely low. “We are very lucky to have bought a very cheap property [in the country] that I can [also] have my workshop on, so I’m not paying for two properties in Melbourne […] So that certainly takes a fair bit of pressure off financially.” Their co-interviewee described this as “pretty luxurious!” Notably, the two who thought they could live off their art practices were both men, mid-career, whose works were large, spectacular festival items, which alongside the artists’ skill and hard work was also a factor in the type of remuneration received.Decongested LivingBeyond more affordable real estate and rental spaces, life outside our cities offers other benefits that have particular relevance to creative practitioners. Opera and festival director Lindy Hume described her move to the NSW South Coast in terms of space to think and be creative. “The abundance of time, space and silence makes living in places like [Hume’s town] ideal for creating new work” (Brown). And certainly, this was a theme that arose frequently in our interviews. Many of our regionally based artists were in part choosing the de-pressurised space of non-metro areas, and also seeking an embedded, daily connection to nature for themselves, their art-making process and their families. In one interview this was described as “dreamtime”. “Some of my more creative moments are out walking in the forest with the dog, that sort of semi-daydreamy thing where your mind is taken away by the place you’re in.”Creative HubsAll of our regional interviewees mentioned the value of the local community, as a general exchange, social support and like-minded connection, but also specifically of an arts community. Whether a tree change by choice or a more reactive move, the diaspora of artists, among others, has led to a type of rural renaissance in certain popular areas. Creative hubs located around the country, often in close proximity to the urban centres, are creating tremendous opportunities to network with other talented people doing interesting things, living in close proximity and often open to cross-fertilisation. One said: “[Castlemaine] is the best place in Australia, it has this insane cultural richness in a tiny town, you can’t go out and not meet people on the street […] For someone who has not had community in their life that is so gorgeous.” Another said:[Being an artist here] is kind of easy! Lots of people around to connect—with […] other artists but also creatively minded people [...] So it means you can just bump into someone from down the street and have an amazing conversation in five minutes about some amazing thing! […] There’s a concentration here that works.With these hubs, regional spaces are entering into a new relevance in the sphere of cultural production. They are generating unique and interesting local creative scenes for people to live amongst or visit, and generating strong local arts economies, tourist economies, and funding opportunities (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans). Victoria in particular has burgeoned, with tourist flows to its regions increasing 13 per cent in 5 years and generating tourism worth $10 billion (Tourism Victoria). Victoria’s Greater Bendigo is Australia’s most popularly searched tourist destination on Trip Advisor, with tourism increasing 52% in 10 years (Boland). Simultaneously, funding flows have increased to regional zones, as governments seek to promote development outside Australia’s urban centres and are confident in the arts as a key strategy in boosting health, economies and overall wellbeing (see Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; see also the 2018 Regional Centre for Culture initiative, Boland). The regions are also an increasingly relevant participant in national cultural life (Turnbull and Whitford; Mitchell; Simpson; Woodhead). Opportunities for an openness to productive exchange between regional and metropolitan sites appear to be growing, with regional festivals and art events gaining importance and unique attributes in the consciousness of the arts ‘centre’ (see for example Fairley; Simpson; Farrelly; Woodhead).Difficulties of Regional LocationDespite this, our interviews still brought to light the difficulties and barriers experienced living as a regional artist. For some, living in regional Victoria was an accepted set-back in their ambitions, something to be concealed and counteracted with education in reputable metropolitan art schools or city-based jobs. For others there was difficulty accessing a sympathetic arts community—although arts towns had vibrant cultures, certain types of creativity were preferred (often craft-based and more community-oriented). Practitioners who were active in maintaining their links to a metropolitan art scene voiced more difficulty in fitting in and successfully exhibiting their (often more conceptual or boundary-pushing) work in regional locations.The Gentrification ProblemThe other increasingly obvious issue in the revivification of some non-metropolitan areas is that they can and are already showing signs of being victims of their own success. That is, some regional arts precincts are attracting so many new residents that they are ceasing to be the low-cost, hospitable environments for artists they once were. Geographer David Ley has given attention to this particular pattern of gentrification that trails behind artists (Ley “Artists”). Ley draws from Florida’s ideas of late capitalism’s ascendency of creativity over the brute utilitarianism of the industrial era. This has got to the point that artists and creative professionals have an increasing capacity to shape and generate value in areas of life that were previous overlooked, especially with built environments (2529). Now more than ever, there is the “urbane middle-class” pursuing ‘the swirling milieu of artists, bohemians and immigrants” (Florida) as they create new, desirable landscapes with the “refuse of society” (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79; Ley New Middle Class). With Australia’s historic shifts in affordability in our major cities, this pattern that Ley identified in urban built environments can be seen across our states and regions as well.But with gentrification comes increased costs of living, as housing, shops and infrastructure all alter for an affluent consumer-resident. This diminishes what Bourdieu describes as “the suspension and removal of economic necessity” fundamental to the avant-garde (Bourdieu Distinction 54). That is to say, its relief from heavy pressure to materially survive is arguably critical to the reflexive, imaginative, and truly new offerings that art can provide. And as argued earlier, there seems an inbuilt economic irrationality in artmaking as a vocation—of dedicating one’s energy, time and resources to a pursuit that is notoriously impoverishing. But this irrationality may at the same time be critical to setting forth new ideas, perspectives, reflections and disruptions of taken-for-granted social assumptions, and why art is so indispensable in the first place (Bourdieu Field 39; Ley New Middle Class 2531; Weber on irrationality and the Enlightenment Project; also Adorno’s the ‘primitive’ in art). Australia’s cities, like those of most developed nations, increasingly demand we busy ourselves with the high-consumption of modern life that makes certain activities that sit outside this almost impossible. As gentrification unfolds from the metropolis to the regions, Australia faces a new level of far-reaching social inequality that has real consequences for who is able to participate in art-making, where these people can live, and ultimately what kind of diversity of ideas and voices participate in the generation of our national cultural life. ConclusionThe revival of some of Australia’s more popular regional towns has brought new life to some regional areas, particularly in reshaping their identities as cultural hubs worth experiencing, living amongst or supporting their development. Our interviews brought to life the significant benefits artists have experienced in relocating to country towns, whether by choice or necessity, as well as some setbacks. It was clear that economics played a major role in the demographic shift that took place in the area being examined; more specifically, that the general reorientation of social life towards consumption activities are having dramatic spatial consequences that we are currently seeing transform our major centres. The ability of art and creative practices to breathe new life into forgotten and devalued ideas and spaces is a foundational attribute but one that also creates a gentrification problem. Indeed, this is possibly the key drawback to the revivification of certain regional areas, alongside other prejudices and clashes between metro and regional cultures. It is argued that the transformative and redemptive actions art can perform need to involve the modern irrationality of not being transfixed by matters of economic materialism, so as to sit outside taken-for-granted value structures. This emphasises the importance of equality and open access in our spaces and landscapes if we are to pursue a vibrant, diverse and progressive national cultural sphere.ReferencesAbbing, Hans. Why Artists Are Poor: The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam UP, 2002.Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. London: Routledge, 1983.Australian Bureau of Statistics. “Population Growth: Capital City Growth and Development.” 4102.0—Australian Social Trends. 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New York: Columbia UP, 1993.Brown, Bill. “‘Restless Giant’ Lures Queensland Opera’s Artistic Director Lindy Hume to the Regional Art Movement.” ABC News 13 Sep. 2017. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-09-12/regional-creative-industries-on-the-rise/8895842>.Docherty, Glenn. “Why 5 Million Australians Can’t Get to Work, Home or School on Time.” Sydney Morning Herald 17 Feb. 2019. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/why-5-million-australians-can-t-get-to-work-home-or-school-on-time-20190215-p50y1x.html>.Fairley, Gina. “Big Hit Exhibitions to See These Summer Holidays.” Arts Hub 14 Dec. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://visual.artshub.com.au/news-article/news/visual-arts/gina-fairley/big-hit-exhibitions-to-see-these-summer-holidays-257016>.Farrelly, Kate. “Bendigo: The Regional City That’s Transformed into a Foodie and Cultural Hub.” Domain 9 Apr. 2019. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.domain.com.au/news/bendigo-the-regional-city-you-didnt-expect-to-become-a-foodie-and-cultural-hub-813317/>.Florida, Richard. “A Creative, Dynamic City Is an Open, Tolerant City.” The Globe and Mail 24 Jun. 2002: T8.Gray, Ian, and Geoffrey Lawrence. A Future For Regional Australia: Escaping Global Misfortune. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001.Hume, Lindy. Restless Giant: Changing Cultural Values in Regional Australia. Strawberry Hills: Currency House, 2017.Jayne, Mark. Cities and Consumption. London: Routledge, 2005.Ley, David. The New Middle Class and the Remaking of the Central City. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.———. “Artists, Aestheticisation and Gentrification.” Urban Studies 40.12 (2003): 2527–44.Menger, Pierre-Michel. “Artistic Labor Markets: Contingent Works, Excess Supply and Occupational Risk Management.” Handbook of the Economics of Art and Culture. Eds. Victor Ginsburgh and David Throsby. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2006. 766–811.Mangset, Per, Mari Torvik Heian, Bard Kleppe and Knut Løyland. “Why Are Artists Getting Poorer: About the Reproduction of Low Income among Artists.” International Journal of Cultural Policy 24.4 (2018): 539-58.Mitchell, Scott. “Want to Start Collecting Art But Don’t Know Where to Begin? Trust Your Own Taste, plus More Tips.” ABC Life, 31 Mar. 2019 <https://www.abc.net.au/life/tips-for-buying-art-starting-collection/10084036>.Murphy, Peter. “Sea Change: Re-Inventing Rural and Regional Australia.” Transformations 2 (March 2002).Regional Australia Institute. “The Rise of the Regional Bohemians.” Regional Australia Institute 24 May. 2017. 1 Mar. 2019 <http://www.regionalaustralia.org.au/home/2017/05/rise-regional-bohemians-painting-new-picture-arts-culture-regional-australia/>.Rentschler, Ruth, Kerrie Bridson, and Jody Evans. Regional Arts Australia Stats and Stories: The Impact of the Arts in Regional Australia. 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I was at Harry’s last night, ostensibly for a quick glass of wine. Instead it turned into a few over many hours and a rare experience of the “regular” identity. It was relatively quiet when I arrived and none of the owners were there. David [a regular] was DJing; we only vaguely acknowledged each other. He was playing great music though, and I was enjoying being there by myself for the first time in a while—looking about at other customers and trying to categorise them, and occasionally chatting to the girl next to me. My friend Angie came to join me about an hour later, and then Paul, a regular, arrived. He sat on my other side and alternated between talking to me, David [they are close friends], the staff, and other customers he knew who passed by. As the evening progressed a few more regulars arrived; the most “unconnected” regulars I can recall seeing at one time. We were sitting along the bar, making jokes about whether the manager for the evening would let us have a lock in. None of us thought so, however the joking seemed to engender a shared identity—that we were a collective of regulars, with specialised knowledge and expectations of privileges. Perhaps it only arose because we were faced with the possibility of having those privileges refused. Or because just for once there were more than one or two of us present. Evenings like that put the effort and pain of the work I put into gaining that identity into context. (Research note, 18 June 2011) Being a Harry’s Regular Harry’s is my favourite bar in my neighbourhood. It is a small wine bar, owned by three men in their late thirties and targeted at people like them; my gentrifying inner city neighbourhood’s 20 to 40 something urban middle class. Harry’s has seats along the bar, booths inside, and a courtyard out the back. The seating arrangements mean that larger groups tend to gather outside, groups of two to four spread around the location, and people by themselves, or in groups of two, tend to sit at the bar. I usually sit at the bar. Over the three or so years I’ve been patronising Harry’s I’ve developed quite an attachment to the place. It is somewhere I feel comfortable and secure, where I have met and continue to run into other neighbourhood residents, and that I approach with an openness as to how the evening may play out. The development of this attachment and sense of ease has been a cumulative process. The combination of a slow growing familiarity punctuated by particularly memorable evenings, such as the one described above, where heightened emotions coalesce into a reflexive recognition of identification and belonging. As a result I would describe myself as an irregular regular (Katovich and Reese 317). This is because whilst my patronage is sporadic, I have a regular’s expectation of recognition, as well as an awareness of the privileges and responsibilities that this identification brings. Similar processes of identification and attachment have been described in earlier ethnographic work on regulars within bars and cafes. These have described the ways that group identifications and broader cultural roles are continually renegotiated and reinforced through social interaction, and how physical and symbolic tools, such as business layout and décor, acquired knowledge, as well as non-regulars, are utilised in this process (Anderson 33–38; Katovich and Reese 324, 328, 330; Spradley and Mann 67, 69, 84). However the continuing shifts in the manner in which consumption practices shape our experiences of the urban environment (see for example Lloyd; Zukin), and of collective identification (see for example Cova, Kozinets and Shankar), suggest that ongoing investigation in this area would be fruitful. Accordingly, this paper extends this earlier work to consider the ways this kind of regular collective identification may manifest within consumption spaces in the contemporary Western inner city. In particular this research is interested in the implications for regular identification of the urban middle class’s use of consumption spaces for socialising, and the ways this can construct social realms. These realms are not fixed within physical pieces of space, and are instead dependent on the density and proportions of the relationship types that are present (Lofland 11). Whilst recognising, as per Ash Amin (“Collective Culture and Urban Public Space” 8), that physical and symbolic elements also shape our experiences of collective identification in public spaces, this paper focuses specifically on these social elements. This is not only because it is social recognition that is at the heart of regular identification, but more significantly, because the layers of meaning that social realms produce are continually shifting with the ebb and flow of people within these spaces, potentially complicating the identification process. Understanding how these shifting social realms are experienced, and may aid or undermine identification, is thus an important aspect of understanding how regular collective identification may be experienced in the contemporary city, and the key aim of this paper. To do so, this paper draws on autoethnographic research of my consumption experiences within an Australian inner city neighbourhood, conducted from September 2009 to September 2010. Through this autoethnography I sought to explore the ways consumption spaces can support experiences of place-based community, with a particular interest in the emotional and imaginative aspects of this process. The research data drawn on here comes from detailed research memos that recorded my interactions, identifications and emotional responses within these spaces. For this paper I focus specifically on my experiences of becoming a regular at Harry’s as a means of exploring regular identification in the contemporary inner city. The Shapes of Third Places in Contemporary Inner City Harry’s could be described as my third place. This term has been used to describe public locations outside of home and work that are host to regular, voluntary, informal and happily anticipated gatherings of individuals (Oldenburg 16). These regular’s bars and locals cafés have been celebrated in research and popular culture for their perceived ability to facilitate “that easier version of friendship and congeniality that results from casual and informal affiliation” (Oldenburg 65). They are said to achieve this by offering accessible, neutral spaces, where worries and inequalities are left at the door, and spirited, playful conversation is the focus of activity (Oldenburg 25, 29, 32). This is the idealised place “where everybody knows your name.” Despite the undeniable appeal of the third place concept, these types of social and inclusive consumption spaces are more likely to be seen on television, or in property development marketing, than on the shopping streets of our neighbourhoods. Instead many consumption spaces are purely that; spaces in which individual’s consume goods and services in ways that can encourage individualism, segregation, and stifle interaction. This has been attributed to a range of factors, including planning systems that encourage single use zoning, a reliance on cars limiting our use of public places, and the proliferation of shopping centres that focus on individualised consumption and manufactured experiences (Lofland 145, 205, 218; Oldenburg 61). In addition, the fundamentals of running a successful business can also work against a consumption space’s accessibility and neutrality. This is because location, décor, product offering, pricing, competition, and advertising practices all physically and symbolically communicate a desired target audience and expected behaviour patterns that can implicitly shape customer interactions, and the meanings we attach to them (Bitner 61; Sherry 4). More subtlety, the changing lifestyle preferences of residents of gentrifying neighbourhoods such as mine, may also work as a barrier to the development of third places. Research tells us that the urban middle class is a demographic which engages in a broad range of lifestyle-based consumption activities for socialising purposes and as part of their identity construction (Lloyd 122; Zukin 7). However this is also a demographic that is said to be increasingly mobile, and thus less restricted by geographic boundaries, such as of the neighbourhood they live in (Amin, “Re-Thinking the Urban Social” 107). As I noted above, it was not often that I experienced a critical mass of regulars at Harry’s, indeed I rarely expected to. This is because whilst Harry’s target demographic would seem likely candidates for becoming regular café or bar customers, they are also likely to be socialising in a number of different cafés, bars, and restaurants across a number of different neighbourhoods in my city, thus reducing the frequency of their presence within any one particular location. Finally, even those consumption spaces that do support social interaction may still not be operating as third places. This is because this sociality can alter a space’s level of openness, through the realms that it constructs (Lofland 11). Lofland (14) describes three types of social realms: public, parochial, and private. Private realms are dominated by intimate relations, parochial realms by communal relations, and the public realm by relations with people who are only categorically known. According to this classification, the regular’s café or bar is primarily operating as a parochial realm, identifiable by the shared sense of commonality that defines the regular collective. However naming the regular identification of the third place as the product of a social realm also highlights its fragility, and suggests that instead of being reliable and able to be anticipated, that the collective identification such spaces offers is uncertain, and easily disrupted by the shifts in patronage and patterns of interaction that consumption based socialising can bring. This is fluidity is articulated in the work of Veronique Aubert-Gamet and Bernard Cova, who describe two ways consumption spaces can support public collective identification; as anchoring and exposure sites. Anchoring sites are those within which an established collective gathers to interact and reinforce their shared identity (Aubert-Gamet and Cova 40). These are parochial realms in their more closed form, and are perhaps most likely to offer the certainty of the happily anticipated gathering that Ray Oldenburg describes. However because of this they are also more likely to be exclusionary. This is because anchoring can limit collective identification to those who are recognised as community members, thus undermining the potential for openness. This openness is instead found within exposure sites, in which individuals are able to observe and engage with the identification practices of others at limited risk (Aubert-Gamet and Cova 41). This is not quite the anomie of the public street, but neither is it the security of anchoring or the third place. This is because exposure realms can offer both familiarity, such as through the stability of physical setting, and strangeness, through the transience of customers and relationships. Furthermore, by hovering at the ever shifting boundary of parochial and public realms, these moments of exposure may offer the potential for the type of spontaneous conviviality that has been proposed as the basis for fleeting collective identifications (Amin, “Collective Culture and Urban Public Space” 10; Maffesoli). That is, it may be that when a potential third place is dominated by an exposure realm, it is experienced as open and accessible, whereas when an anchoring realm dominates, the security of collective identification takes precedence. It is the potential of social interaction at the boundaries of these realms and the ways it shapes regular identification that is of interest to this paper. This is because it is in this shifting space that identifications themselves are most fluid, unpredictable, and thus open to opportunistic breaches in the patterns of interaction. This unpredictability, and the interaction strategies we adopt to negotiate it, may also suggest ways in which a certain kind of third place experience can be developed and maintained in the contemporary inner city, where consumption based socialising is high, but where people are also mobile and less tied into fixed patterns of patronage. The remainder of the paper draws on my experiences of regular identification in Harry’s to consider how this might work. Becoming a Harry’s Regular: Anchoring and the Regular Collective The Harry’s regular collective is formed from a loose social network of neighbourhood residents, variably connected through long established friendships and more recently established consumption space based acquaintances. Evenings such as the one described above work to reinforce that shared identity and the specialised knowledge that underpins it; of the quirks of the owners and staff, of our privileges and responsibilities as regulars, and of the shared cultural identity that reflects a specific aspect of the gentrifying neighbourhood in which we live. However, achieving this level of identification and belonging has not been not easy. Whilst Oldenburg suggests that to establish third place membership one mainly just turns up regularly and tries not to be obnoxious (35), my experience instead suggests it’s a slightly more complicated, and emotional process, that is not always positive. My research notes indicate that discontent, worry, and shame, were as much a feature of my interactions in Harry’s, as were moments of joy, excitement, or an optimistic feeling of connection. This paper suggests that these negative experiences often stemmed from the confusion created by the shifting realms of interaction that occurred within the bar. This is because whilst Harry’s appeared to be a regular’s bar, it more often operated as an anchoring realm for a social network linked to the owners. Many of Harry’s regulars were established friends of the owners, and their shared identity definition appeared to be based on those primary ties. Whilst over time I became acquainted with some of this social network through my patronage, their dominance of the regular group had important implications for the collective identification I was trying to achieve. It created a realm that appeared to be parochial, but often became private, through simple acts such as the arrival of additional social network members, or a staff member shifting their orientation to another, from regular customer to friend. One consequence of these shifting realms was that my perceived inability to penetrate this anchored social network led me to doubt the value and presence of a broader consumption space based regular collective. The boundaries between private, parochial, and public appeared rigid, with no potential for cumulative impacts from fleeting connections in the public realm. It also made me question my motives regarding this desire to identify as suggested here: Thinking about tonight and Kevin [an owner] and Lucas [staff member] and introductions and realising I feel a bit let down/disappointed about the lack of something from them. But I realise also that is because I am wanting something more from them than the superficial I keep on going on about. I want recognition, as a person worth knowing. And that is perhaps where the thing of doing it by yourself falls down. I have an emotional investment in it. … Linking back to my previous thoughts about being able to be placed within a social network—having that emotional certainty of being able to be identified as part of a specific social network would reinforce to ME, who I am within this place. That I had some kind of identifiable position—which is not about superficial connections at all—it’s about recognisable strong ties. (Research note, 2 February 2009) As this excerpt suggests, I struggled to appreciate the identification within my interactions in Harry’s, because I had difficulty separating my emotional need for recognition from the implication that a lack of acknowledgement beyond the superficial I theoretically expected was a social rejection. That is, I had difficulty negotiating the boundary between the parochial realm of the regular collective, and its manifestation as a more closed private realm for the anchored social network. I expected regular, voluntary, informal and happily anticipated gatherings (Oldenburg 16), instead what I got was the brief hellos and limited yet enjoyable conversations that mark the sociality of public collective identifications. It could be suggested that what I also failed to grasp here is the difference between regularity as collective and as an individual identification. It is the collective identity that is reinforced in the parochial realm, as is evident in the description that opened this paper, and yet what I hoped for was recognition as an individual, “a person worth knowing.” However as the following section will suggest, the regular identity can also be experienced, and actively embraced, as an individual identity within realms of exposure. And it is through this version of the regular identity, that this paper suggests that some kind of personal recognition is able to be achieved. Becoming a Harry’s Regular: Exposing the Regular as Individual Given the level of comfort and connection expressed within the research excerpt that opened this paper, it is clear that I overcame the uncertainty described in the previous section, and was able to establish myself within the Harry’s regular collective. This is despite, as noted above, that both the presence and openness of Harry’s regular collective was unpredictable. However, this uncertainty also created a tension that could be said to positively increase the openness of the space. This is because it challenged the predictability that can be associated with anchored regularity, and instead forced me to look outside that identity for those reliable moments of easy friendship and congeniality within realms of exposure. That is, because of the uncertainty regarding both the presence and openness of established regulars, I often turned to fleeting interactions with non-regulars to generate that sense of identification. The influence of non-regulars can be downplayed in ethnographies of cafes and bars, perhaps because they tend to be excluded from the primary group’s identifications that are being investigated. Michael Katovich and William Reese provide the most detailed description of their relevance to the regular identity when they describe how the non-regulars in the Big Derby Lounge were used as tools against which established regulars compared their position and standing, as well as being a potential pool of recruits (336). This paper argues that non-regulars are also significant because their presence alters the realms operating within the space, thus creating opportunities for interactions at those boundaries that can be identity defining. My interactions with non-regulars in Harry’s generally offered the opportunity for spirited, playful and at times quite involved conversations, in which acquired knowledge, familiarity with staff or products, or simple statements of attachment were sufficient markers to establish an experience of regular identification in the eyes of the other. Whilst at times the density of these strangers altered Harry’s realms to the extent I did not feel at home at all, they nonetheless provided an avenue through which to remedy the uncertainties created by my interactions with the anchored social network. These non-regular interactions were able to do this because they operated at the low emotional involvement but high emotional gain boundary between fleeting public realm relations, and more meaningful experiences of exposure, where shared values and identities are on display. That is, I was confirming my regular identity not through an experience of the regular collective, but through an experience of being an individual and a regular. And in each successful encounter there was also the affirmation I had unsuccessfully sought through the regular collective, the emotional certainty that I had some kind of identifiable position within that place. Conclusion: Anchoring and Exposing in the Third Place This paper has drawn from my experiences in Harry’s to explore the process of regular identification as it operates at the boundaries of social realms. This focus provides a means to explore the ways that regular collective identification may develop in the contemporary inner city, where regularity can be sporadic and consumption based socialising is common. Drawing on autoethnographic work, this paper suggests that regularity is experienced both as an individual and a collective identity, according to the nature of the realms operating within the space. Collective identification occurs in anchoring realms, and supports the established regular group, whereas individual regular identification occurs within exposure realms, and relies on recognition from willing non-regulars. Furthermore, this paper suggests it is the latter of these identifications that is the more easily achieved, because it can be experienced at the exposure boundaries of the parochial realm, a less risky and more accessible place to identify when patronage is infrequent and social realms so fluid. It is this use of non-regular relations to balance the emotional work involved in the development of anchored relationships that I believe points to the true potential of third places in the contemporary inner city. Establishing a place where everybody knows your name is improbable in this context. 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