Journal articles on the topic 'Monochrome ( black)'

In 1995, the Hubble Space Telescope sent back to astronomers at the University of Arizona a series of vivid colour images of the Eagle Nebula, a dense formation of interstellar gas and dust the likes of which cradle newborn stars. As evidence that our perceptual universe, in every sense of the word, is defined by the representational powers of colour technology, the Hubble's “cosmic close-ups” are a clear case in point. Colour has become a standard representational form and hence the visual form. If so, what can be said of the recent popularity and proliferation of the black-and-white image?No self-respecting café-bar or discriminating home, it seems, can now do without a black and white print on the wall. Commercial photography and certain forms of advertising have found a new niche in black and white, and even sepia is staging a come-back. The popularity of the black-and-white image cannot be divorced from the commercial culture in which it circulates; it is a “look” and a marker of taste. Monochrome is a stylistic trend but a revealing one, especially if one considers the growing preoccupation in America with heritage and memory. Both Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes give black and white a status of authenticity judged in relation to past time “properly” captured. For Sontag, monochrome gives an image a sense of age, historical distance, and aura. She writes, “the cold intimacy of color seems to seal off the photograph from patina.” Likewise, Barthes comments on the artifice of colour, how it is a “coating applied later on to the original truth of black and white.” For both critics, monochrome is an aesthetic of the authentic figured around a basic quality of pastness.

AbstractThe article examines dreaming and dream narratives in Legio Maria, sub-Saharan Africa's largest African instituted church with a Roman Catholic background. Most Legios valorize a Black Christ and Black Mary but do so while espousing anti-essentialist attitudes towards racialization of the sacred. The social, cultural and symbolic hybridity of the Joluo (Kenya Luo), who still form the majority of the membership in this multi-ethnic, multi-national church, has influenced Legios' religious outlook. Legios' views are contrasted with some white and black theologies that take more monochrome, particularistic positions on the color of the Trinity, the Virgin Mary, Satan, saints, angels and demons. I discuss how Legios' eclectic altar iconography and dreams interact and influence one another. The article demonstrates that Legio Maria's theology of color has resonances with the perspectives on postmodern humanism and postmodern blackness formulated by scholars like Michel Foucault, Kwame Anthony Appiah, Vincent Anderson and bell hooks.

Citrus black spot (CBS) is a fungal disease caused by Phyllosticta citricarpa (synonym Guignardia citricarpa). CBS causes fruit lesions and significant yield loss in all citrus (Citrus) species. The most distinguishing CBS symptom is called hard spot, which is a circular lesion with gray tissue at the center surrounded by a black margin. The spectral characteristic of CBS lesions was investigated and compared with the spectral signature of healthy fruit tissue to determine the best distinguishing wave band. Healthy and CBS-affected samples presented similar reflectance below 500 nm and above 900 nm. However, healthy samples reflected more light between 500 and 900 nm, especially within the visible band. Also, spectral reflectance of the same symptomatic lesion was acquired six times over a 2-month period to determine the variation of symptom’s spectral signatures over time after being harvested. A two-sample t test was employed to compare each pair of consecutive repetitions. The results showed that the spectral signature of the CBS lesion did not change significantly over 2 months. The wavelengths between 587 and 589 nm were identified as the distinguishing band to develop a monochrome vision–based sensor for CBS diagnosis. A support vector machine (SVM) classifier was trained using the spectral reflectance data at the selected bands to identify CBS-affected samples in each repetition. The overall CBS detection accuracies varied between 93.3% and 94.6%.

American painter Frederic Edwin Church's monumental oil painting Aurora Borealis (1865) presents a stark contrast to the dominant Western tradition of representing the Arctic as monochrome and static. This article discusses how the impressive palette of Aurora Borealis and its black semi-circle in the center allow for a revisionist understanding of Church's contributions to a rich history of Arctic representation, including in an age of climate change and rapidly melting ice. The article connects Aurora Borealis to emerging lens technologies—especially photography and astronomy, and later the cinema and composite satellite imagery, to argue for circumpolar north as globally connected—then, and now. The article furthermore draws connections to the nineteenth-century trade in pigments, the interconnected routes of slavery, and cultural modes of urban modernity.

Pictorial relief was measured for a series of pictures of a smooth solid object. The scene was geometrically identical (ie the perspective of the three-dimensional scene remained the same) for all pictures, the rendering different. Some of the pictures were monochrome full-scale photographs taken under different illumination of the scene. Also included were a silhouette (uniform black on uniform white) and a ‘cartoon’-style rendering (visual contour and key linear features rendered in thin black line on a uniform white ground). Two subjects were naive and started with the silhouette, saw the cartoon next, and finally the full-scale photographs. Another subject had seen the object and did the experiment in the opposite sequence. The silhouette rendering is impoverished, but has considerable relief with much of the basic shape. The cartoon rendering yields well-developed pictorial relief, even for the naive subjects. Shading adds only small local details, but different illumination produces significant alterations of relief. It is concluded that shape constancy under changes in illumination is dominant throughout, but that the (small) deviations from true constancy reveal the effect of cues such as shading in a natural setting. Such a ‘perturbation analysis’ appears more promising than either stimulus-reduction or cue-conflict paradigms.

Anchor box parameters and bounding box overlap ratios are studied in order to set them appropriately for the Faster R-CNN detector. The benchmark detection is based on monochrome images whose background may mask a small dark object. Three object detection tasks are generated, where every image either contains a small black square/rectangle or does not contain the object, representing thus class “background”. The ratios are recommended to be tried at 0.7 if this class is represented. The ratio for positive training samples is tried at a less value but greater than 0.4 for the task every image of which contains an object. The minimum anchor box size is better to try at a lesser value from a range of object sizes. The anchor box pyramid scale factor and the number of levels are better to try at 2 and 8, respectively. Subsequently, these parameters may be corrected as their influence is fuzzier than that of the ratios.

The main objective of the excavations of the Late Cypriote city of Hala Sultan Tekke is the investigation and determination of the complete occupational sequence of the pre-12th century levels. The groundpenetrating radar survey (GPR) led to the discovery and excavation of numerous rooms of a large Late Cypriote complex. During the second year of excavations at the site the expedition exposed a third phase of occupation (Stratum 3). A Stratum 2 compound, with extraordinarily wide walls was uncovered in the eastern part of the excavations. Intact vessels include Base-ring I and II, and White Painted VI, and Late Helladic imports. Other wares include: White Painted Pendant/Cross Line Style, Red-on-Black/Red, Bichrome Wheel-made, White Slip I and II, Monochrome, Base-ring I and II, Red Lustrous Wheel-made, White Painted/Plain-White Wheel-made, and White Shaved. Unique discoveries amongst the small finds are a haematite cylinder seal and a stone pendant figurine. The numerous tools related to textile production point to the manufacture of fabric on a larger scale.

We explored how an artist who uses a particular monochrome modern painting style generates the impression of relief in paintings. Three portraits, painted after model, were created especially for the experiment. Photographs of the paintings were presented on a computer screen. To investigate the perceived relief of observers we used a gauge figure task. We expected an effect of background contrast on perceived total depth range of the relief, because this is well known in the case of photography. We found that the contrast with the color of the canvas, white, gray or black, influences the perceived articulation of the relief but does not influence the perceived total depth range of the relief. The major difference between photographs and these paintings is that contrasts in the paintings are built up through edge-based shading, whereas photographs mostly contain tonal-area shading. The classical shape from shading cue does not apply to the impressions of depth evoked by the paintings. Perhaps surprisingly edge-based shading can be as effective as classical ways of creating pictorial relief.

ABSTRACTPolychrome slipped and decorated pottery from Corinth, Greece, developed over two centuries from monochrome, dark brown slips and washes on a calcareous yellow clay body to a wide range of decorative techniques. Once significant experimentation with color variability began, five colors, each with various levels of gloss, were produced. Some slip colors involve multiple-step processing to control glass content and degree of sintering; the control of particle size to produce variable roughness and a matte or semi-matt or glossy appearance. Considerable evidence supports nearly continuous development and engineering of the ceramic slips, although no data support the improvement in composition or processing of the ceramic bodies. For instance, significant macro-porosity consistently is present in the bodies. We present the results of study of 27 sherds with 59 examples of Corinthian polychrome paint layers, measuring 5 to 35 microns in thickness, that were collected by Marie Farnsworth in the late 1950s and 1960s from Greek archaeological sites. Black, red, white, wine red (or purple) and overlying, matte banded slips and paints were studied by optical microscopy, petrographic and scanning-electron microscopy with semi-quantative energy dispersive x-ray analysis, as well as wavelength-dispersive electron microprobe (EPMA) elemental mapping and analysis.

This paper is concerned with a novel technique of investigating the CL of solids in SEM by means of spectral topographical analysis (use of real color contrast determined by the local CL spectrum).The present-day black-and-white visualizing systems allow images with the number of brightness gradations more than 100. The observer is capable of distinguishing no more than 16 levels of monochrome color (grey levels) at a time. The situation differs when color contrast is used. In the color image, the elements of the same brightness can be discriminated by color contrast. Generally, color image elements can be discriminated both by brightness contrast and by color contrast. For example, only three primary colors (red, green and blue) are employed in commercial television, and the total number of hues approaches 16. If white is used as the reference color, the number of hues amounts to 12000, of which only one third can be displayed by the standard color monitor. The knowledge of color discrimination thresholds allows one to determine the number of colors discernable by eye, this number being about 1300. Thus, color contrast in SEM increases the information content of the image by about two orders, as compared with its black-and-white counterpart. This method of information representation does not practically allow any loss of information in forming the CL image in the visible region. SEM allows the formation of the image in real colors determined by the local CL spectra of the object. The color of the point is determined by the total power of all the detected spectral bands and lines. Thus, the color CL image represents spectral topographical information about the object surface. The signal forming this image for one color channel can be presented as.

"Easter eggs. Workshops of museum education at the History Museum in Turda, Cluj County The pedagogical programme of the History Museum in Turda, had a great evolution in 2019, by providing 11 interactive workshops to students, in order to improve their talents, extracurricular work and to develop their skills in several domains. Our ‘Easter egg painting’ programme stands for continuing the tradition by meetings between artisans and public, through the interactive workshops, not just as demonstration. In the seven editions, there were organized around 30 workshops, with more than 500 participants, students and adults from Turda, Cluj-Napoca and surrounding areas, activity which was very much appreciated. The purpose of this workshop is to convey the correct value of the egg painting activity to a large and diverse public, so that they perceive it as important as the pottery and glass painting. Our workshops go through all the stages of the egg painting, decorating with the archaic techniques of successive color baths, protecting with bee wax, decorated with vegetal, zoomorphic, solar and more. The colors used are also limited to the traditional ones, monochrome or polychrome – red, white, yellow and black. Via this workshop, made in the old times at the countryside, the museum has direct implication in the preservation of traditional handcraft, loaded with symbolism. Keywords: Easter eggs, painted eggs, traditional craft, workshops, museum education "

Introduction: Metric recognition methods make it possible to preliminarily and strictly determine the structures of feed-forward neural networks, namely, the number of neurons, layers, and connections based on the initial parameters of the recognition problem. They also make it possible to analytically calculate the synapse weights of network neurons based on metric expressions. The setup procedure for these networks includes a sequential analytical calculation of the values of each synapse weight in the weight table for neurons of the zero or first layer, which allows us to obtain a working feed-forward neural network at the initial stage without the use of training algorithms. Then feed-forward neural networks can be trained by well-known learning algorithms, which generally speeds up the process of their creation and training. Purpose: To determine how much time the process of calculating the values of weights requires and, accordingly, how reasonable it is to preliminarily calculate the weights of a feed-forward neural network. Results: An algorithm is proposed and implemented for the automated calculation of all values of synapse weight tables for the zero and first layers as applied to the task of recognizing black-and-white monochrome symbol images. The proposed algorithm is described in the Builder C++ software environment. The possibility of optimizing the process of calculating the weights of synapses in order to accelerate the entire algorithm is considered. The time spent on calculating these weights for different configurations of neural networks based on metric recognition methods is estimated. Examples of creating and calculating synapse weight tables according to the considered algorithm are given. According to them, the analytical calculation of the weights of a neural network takes just seconds or minutes, being in no way comparable to the time necessary for training a neural network. Practical relevance: Analytical calculation of the weights of a neural network can significantly accelerate the process of creating and training a feed-forward neural network. Based on the proposed algorithm, we can implement one for calculating three-dimensional weight tables for more complex images, either black and-white or color grayscale ones.

Introduction: Metric recognition methods make it possible to preliminarily and strictly determine the structures of feed-forward neural networks, namely, the number of neurons, layers, and connections based on the initial parameters of the recognition problem. They also make it possible to analytically calculate the synapse weights of network neurons based on metric expressions. The setup procedure for these networks includes a sequential analytical calculation of the values of each synapse weight in the weight table for neurons of the zero or first layer, which allows us to obtain a working feed-forward neural network at the initial stage without the use of training algorithms. Then feed-forward neural networks can be trained by well-known learning algorithms, which generally speeds up the process of their creation and training. Purpose: To determine how much time the process of calculating the values of weights requires and, accordingly, how reasonable it is to preliminarily calculate the weights of a feed-forward neural network. Results: An algorithm is proposed and implemented for the automated calculation of all values of synapse weight tables for the zero and first layers as applied to the task of recognizing black-and-white monochrome symbol images. The proposed algorithm is described in the Builder C++ software environment. The possibility of optimizing the process of calculating the weights of synapses in order to accelerate the entire algorithm is considered. The time spent on calculating these weights for different configurations of neural networks based on metric recognition methods is estimated. Examples of creating and calculating synapse weight tables according to the considered algorithm are given. According to them, the analytical calculation of the weights of a neural network takes just seconds or minutes, being in no way comparable to the time necessary for training a neural network. Practical relevance: Analytical calculation of the weights of a neural network can significantly accelerate the process of creating and training a feed-forward neural network. Based on the proposed algorithm, we can implement one for calculating three-dimensional weight tables for more complex images, either blackand-white or color grayscale ones.

Despite political and military upheaval in Byzantium in the 13th century, the most important of which were the conquest of Constantinople and the central territories of the empire by the Latins in 1204, and then the restoration of the state and the return of the capital by Michael VIII Palaeologus in 1261, the manufacture of marketable glazed tableware on its historical territory had not stopped. Moreover, delivery of this ceramic into the territory of the Crimea also continued. This was largely due to the new owners of the maritime market — Italian merchants, first Venetians, and then Genoese, who were active participants of the political and military conflicts in the Eastern Mediterranean and Byzantium. At the same time, the composition of the imported ceramic was not stable. Finds from well-dated archaeological deposits known from the excavations of archaeological sites in the Crimea, as well as the surrounding area, provide the information as for the volume of the Byzantine import and changes in the imported pottery assemblage during the 13th century. First of all, these are the cultural remains with the layers of fire and destruction on the territory of the medieval towns in southern and south-western Crimea with the coins of 1250—1260s; shipwreck near the Novy Svet village south-west to Sudak, which wrecked not earlier than 1260—1270s; two pits in the harbor part of Soldaia / Sudak with coins of the 1266 and 1270s, which, according to stratigraphy, were filled after the mentioned catastrophe; sites in south-eastern Crimea with coins of the last quarter of the 13th — early 14th century, so on. Correlation of data from these contexts leads to the following conclusions. 1. Quantity of Byzantine ceramics imported into Crimea during the 13th century was quite significant. It accounts for up to 70 % and more of the ceramics assemblages. 2. The range of glazed ware remained approximately the same from the beginning until the middle — third quarter of the 13th century. The MBP (mainly «Incised Sgraffito Ware», less often «Champlevй» and others); GWW with monochrome green glaze as well as green and brown painted variants; «Zeuxippus Ware» (class IА&II) prevailed. 3. Since the last third of the 13th century less elegant and cheaper vessels («Sgraffito with Concentric Circles», jugs with stripes of white engobe) from different workshops, which in large quantities arise on the Byzantine and surrounding lands, start to come to the Crimea and Northern Black Sea Region. Their activities were stimulated by the intensification of maritime trade and the growing demand for cheap glazed pottery. 4. Cessation of some groups of import, especially MBP from Chalcis, may be due to the ousting of the Venetians from the Crimean market and their temporary difficulties with novation in the Black Sea after 1261. At the same time, the sales crisis could lead to the decline of some large pottery centers and to the emergence of new focused on more promising trading intermediaries, which the Genoese became.

The objective of this work is to provide image quality evaluation for intra-only H.264/AVC High Profile (HP) standard versus JPEG2000 standard. Here, we review the structure of the two standards and the coding algorithms in the context of subjective and objective assessments. Simulations were performed on a test set of monochrome and color image. As a result of simulations, we observed that the subjective and objective image quality of H.264/AVC is superior to JPEG2000, except the blocking artifact which is inherent, since it consists of block transform rather than whole image transform. Thus, we propose a unified measurement system to properly define image quality.

AbstractThe title from Rembrandt's inventory (Note 2), which was first linked with this problematical painting (Fig. I, Note I) by Smith, has hitherto never been questioned, but, broadly speaking, two different interpretations have been suggested for it. Schmidt-Degener connected it with the glorification of the illustrious past of Amsterdam in uniting with other towns to fight for the country's rights and prosperity (Note 4), an idea later amplified by Hellinga on the basis of Carel van Mander and Cesare Ripa (Note 5). The historian Cornelissen, on the other hand, saw it as a reflection of the tensions between Amsterdam and the Stadholder's court around 1640 and an illustration of the significance of Union, Religion, the Militia and Justice for the concord of the state (Note 6). Schmidt-Degener regarded the work as a sketch for a large painting, possibly a militia piece, but others have seen it as a design for a print (Notes 7 -9), on the analogy of some other oil sketches by Rembrandt which are models for etchings. A completely different suggestion made recently is that the painting is at the dead-coloured stage and thus unfinished (Note II). Since the last figure of the date is almost illegible, various dates in the 1640's have been put forward, most scholars opting for Schmidt-Degener's suggestion of 1641. Examinations in connection with the recent restoration of the painting have revealed a number of things which are presented briefly here as a new guide to possible lines of research. The restoration was necessitated by the fact that the varnish had become opaque in places and the excessive retouching had darkened (Figs. 2-4). The cradling on the back had also distorted the panel, which had been planed down to only about 3 mm. The cradling has now been removed and replaced by a lighter system of small oak blocks, which hook on to an aluminium grid (Fig. 5, Note 14). Investigation of the panel showed that the strip about 6 cm wide at the bottom, which Schmidt-Degener thought to have been added during painting, was an integral part of the original panel, with small blocks of wood let in by later hands to prevent the join from opening (Fig. 6) . A dendrochronological examination of the panel showed it to have come from the same oak tree as those of Rembrandt's River Valley with Ruins at Cassel (Br.454) and the Portrait of a Man in Polish Costume dated 1637 in Washington (Br.211). The latest date for the felling of the tree in question is 1634 ±5, so that our painting could have originated earlier than is indicated by the date under the signature. The edges of the painting appear to have been pared of when the panel was planed down, so that the last figure is probably missing altogether (there is no trace of it on the infra-red photograph, Figs. 14 and 15). A further discovery on the panel are the notches at regular intervals round the edges for securing it with pins and nails in a frame, a phenomenon known from other 17th-century panels (Note 18), although not previously encountered in any by Rembrandt. Investigation of the painting technique, produced a surprise in respect of the most recent theories on Rembrandt's technique (Note 19), viz. that alongside and underneath the highlights containing lead white there proved to exist an earlier stage in which the highlights were applied in a thin paint composed of a watery binding medium (animal glue) with chalk. These light touches, scarcely visible in the X-ray photograph (Fig. 7), are clearly part of the first laying-in of the composition, to which lightly sketched brushstrokes in a darker tone may also belong. Thus this largely monochrome painting also has a monochrome sketch underneath, which implies that what we now have is a finished picture. The meticulous detailing and local, use of colour support this theory, as does the extensive use of scratching in the wet paint to create modelling. The sketchy syle was evidently considered sufficientfor the picture's purpose. A further notable phenomenon is that a thin layer of varnish is found between some of the paint layers in those areas which Rembrandt repainted at a later stage, which could indicate that the picture was already regarded as finished before those changes were made. As the restoration proceeded, it became ever clearer that the picture was painted in various states. Strips about 6 cm wide at top and bottom proved to have been left unpainted originally (Fig. 9), for reasons that can only be guessed at. The two main stages comprised first the laying-in of the composition on a brown to pink ground in a light watery paint, with draughtsmanlike lines of brown to black and scratching in various places. The greenish-black shadows, very thick white highlights and the major part of the sky to the left of the tree also belong to this stage. At the second stage Rembrandt returned to the picture, possibly after a considerable period, and worked it up again with broad strokes of a heavier paint. This relates to the strips at top and bottom, the shadows under the battle and above the chain and the area to the right of the tree above the cavalry procession. Repentirs are found in both stages, notably the elimination of a row of escutcheons continuing the series now visible (see Figs. II and 7), while the light cloth to the left of the arms of Amsterdam and the text Soli Deo Gloria appear to be relatively late additions during the first stage. As to the date of the painting, the style alone indicates the earliest possible date in the 1640's, while the first stage could well date from before 1640. Stylistic links between it and the Landscape with the Good Samaritan of 1638 in Cracow (Br.442, Note 27) suggest that clues to the interpretation must be looked for earlier than 1640 and raise the question of a possible connection with a historical event like the entry of Maria de Medici in 1638 (Note 28). As a result of the restoration numerous details in the picture have now become more clearly legible, while the prominence of the arms of Amsterdam is even more apparent, suggesting that Schmidt-Degener's interpretation is the most likely. If the composition is regarded as an allegory on Concord, the battle in the background could be seen as Discord, so that the Concord here might be Ripa's Unione Civile (Note 29), in this case that of Amsterdam, rather than a united campaign against a historical enemy. This does not explain problematical details, such as Justice on the far left, but it might be a fruitful line to follow. While it cannot be ruled out that the picture is a study for a print, its large size, the fact that it is not on paper, like most of the sketches Rembrandt made for etchings, and its relatively rich palette point in another direction. It still seems closest to the type of modello made by Rubens, Lievens and Bol for large decorative projects (Note 30).

Fused deposition modeling (FDM) has been one of the most widely used rapid prototyping (RP) technologies leading to the increase in market attention. Obviously it is desirable to print 3D objects; however, existing FDM printers are restricted to printing only monochrome objects because of the entry-level nozzle structure, and literature on the topic is also sparse. In this paper, the CAD model of the nozzle is established first by UG (Unigraphics NX) software to show the structure of fused deposition modeling 3D printer nozzle for color mixing. Second, the flow channel model of the nozzle is extracted and simplified. Then, the CAD and finite element model are established by UG and ICEM CFD software, respectively, to prepare for the simulation. The flow field is simulated by Fluent software. The nozzle’s suitable temperature at different extrusion speeds is obtained, and the reason for the blockage at the intersection of the heating block is revealed. Finally, test verification of the nozzle is performed, which can produce mixed-color artifacts stably.

With the rapid increase in the use of computers and the Internet, the demand for higher transmission and better storage is increasing as well. This paper describes the different techniques for data (image-video) compression in general and, in particular, the new compression technique called fractal image compression. Fractal image compression is based on self-similarity, where one part of an image is similar to the other part of the same image. Low bit rate color image sequence coding is very important for video transmission and storage applications. The most significant aspect of this work is the development of color images using fractal-based color image compression, since little work has been done previously in this area. The results obtained show that the fractal-based compression works for the color images works as well as for the gray-scale images. Nevertheless, the encoding of the color images takes more time than the gray-scale images. Color images are usually compressed in a luminance-chrominance coordinate space, with the compression performed independently for each coordinate by applying the monochrome image processing techniques. For image sequence compression, the design of an accurate and efficient algorithm for computing motion to exploit the temporal redundancy has been one of the most active research areas in computer vision and image compression. Pixel-based motion estimation algorithms address pixel correspondence directly by identifying a set of local features and computing a match between these features across the frames. These direct techniques share the common pitfall of high computation complexity resulting from the dense vector fields produced. For block matching motion estimation algorithms, the quad-tree data structure is frequently used in image coding to recursively decompose an image plane into four non-overlapping rectangular blocks.

AbstractIn 1906, on the occasion of the Rembrandt jubilee, Jozef Israels bore witness to his lifelong admiration of Rembrandt and his art, conjuring up a picture of the master working on the Night Watch. The vision he evoked was of a painter in the throes of creation, 'dipping his broadest brushes deep into the paint of his large palette' in order to give more power and relief to certain areas of the painting. The author contends that this description is not consistent with what really went on in 17th-century studios. Numerous arguments support the hypothesis that up into the 19th century palettes were not only much smaller than the 19th-century ones envisioned by Jozef Israels, but that they did not usually carry the complete range of available oil-based pigments. On thc contrary, painters adhered to the diehard tradition of loading their palettes with a limited number of tints suitable for painting a certain passage. Support for this proposition comes from various directions. The most important sources are paintings of studio scenes and self-portraits of painters with their palettes. Examination of the depicted palettes, an examination conducted on the actual paintings, has yielded plausible grounds for assuming that painters strove for verisimilitude in their renderings of palettes. This is borne out by the surprising consistency of the examined material. On certain 15 th and 16th-century representations of St. Luke painting the Madonna, his palette is seen to contain only a few shades of blue, with occasionally white and black. Other palettes on which a greater variety of colours are depicted are incomplete, representing the range needed for the parts of the painting which were the most important and most diflicult to paint - the human skin. Texts by De Mayerne and Beurs gave rise to this assumption. One of the chief duties of the apprentice was to prepare his master's palettes. According to a dialogue in the late 17th-century Volpato manuscript, the master's mere indication of which part of the painting he was going to work on sufficed for the apprentice to prepare the palette. This implies that a specific number of pigments were necessary for the depiction of a particular element of reality. The idea is supported by the countless recipes for the depiction of every part of the visible world which have been handed down to us, notably in Willem Beurs' book but in other sources too. The implication is that the method of a 17th-century artist differed fundamentally from that of artists of the second half of the 19th century and the 20th century. Whereas there are substantial grounds for assuming that painters of the latter period tended to work up an entire painting more or less evenly, painters of earlier centuries executed their work - over an underdrawing or an underpainting in sections, on a manner which is best compared with the 'giornate' in fresco painting. This kind of method does not necessarily mean that a painter did not proceed from a tonal conception of an entire painting. Indeed, Rembrandt's manner of underpainting shows that his aims did not differ all that much from, say, Jozef Israels. Technical and economic circumstances are more likely the reason why painters continued to work in sections in the Baroque. With regard to the economic aspect: grinding pigments was a lengthy operation and the resulting paint dried fast. Consequently, no more pigments were prepared than necessary, so as to avoid waste. With regard to the technical aspect: before the development of compatible tube paints, whose uniformity of substance and behaviour are guaranteed by all manner of means, painters had to take into account the fact that every pigment had its own characteristics and properties; some pigments were not amenable to mixing, others were transparent by nature, other opaque, etc. This is best illustrated by paintings of the 15th and 16th centuries. However, the tradition persisted into the 17th century and was also carried on by Rembrandt, as scientific research has shown. Neutron-activating radiographic examination reveals that certain pigments only occur in isolated areas (as far as these pigments were not used in the monochrome undcrpainting). Scrutiny of paint samples has moreover revealed that a layer of paint does not as a rule contain more than two to five, or in very exceptional cases six, pigments. Having been made aware of this procedure, however, we can also observe it in stylistic characteristics of the painting, and we realize that for the aforesaid reasons a late Rembrandt is more akin to a Raphael than to a Jozef Israels. In the 19th-century discussion of the relationship of style and technique, figures like Semper contended that this relationship was an extremely close one. Riegl, proceeding from the concept of 'Kunstwollen', regarded technique as far less important, more as the 'frictional coefficient' in the realization of a style; while not denying technique's effect on style, Riegl did not consider its influence to be as crucial as Semper did. Paul Taylor's recent research into the concept of 'Houditng' have demonstrated the extent to which aspects as tone and colour served to create an illusion of space in the 17th century, the chief priority being the painting as a tonal and colouristic entity. If we assume that the working principles of a 15th and a 17th-century painter did not fundamentally differ, it becomes clear that the pictorial 'management' involved in attuning tones and colours so convincingly as to produce the tonal unity so typical of Baroque painting, was quite an achievement. The technical and economic limitations mentioned above in connection with the palette may thus be seen as exemplifying Riegl's view of technique as a frictional coefficient in achieving pictorial ends.

Colour, light, shadows. The chapter deals with the role of these compositional means in the minimal expression. They are considered to be the most important means of the minimal composition and they are compared to the idea and space. In the case of the minimal expression, colour is not an adornment but the language of the form. Traditionally, minimalism has been associated with the solutions in grey or white, monochromic colours. However, polychromic minimalism with a prevailing geometrical simplicity in the form and space but with more or less variable polychromic surfaces should not be forgotten either. Light is the most important element in modelling and formation of the space, volume and colour. Light in minimalism is not only the source of lighting but also a compositional means creating a specific meditation mood, exposing textures, transparent structures and the form. A tendency of contemporary architecture is to open the interior spaces of a building to light as much as possible. Shadows make a contrast to light. In a symbolic way, it is considered as the second side, contrary to life, that is necessary to the equilibrium. The soul and vitality are understood as the shadow. It is a very effective means of expression but, like a natural light, it is unstable, makes a movement, creates a specific mood, dematerialises, divides and breaks the form. Dimension, symmetry–asymmetry, integrity. A dimension in architecture operates as a means of the artistic quality both of the composition and the form. Suggestiveness of the building is often dependent on the size. Tendency of the minimal expression towards reduction or diminishing is a basic one; it is encoded in the very concept of the minimum. However, it is not a physical or direct reduction of the size but rather the purification that makes the concrete form or space empty, seeking to maximally decrease the number of structural elements. A specific rate between the apertures and the plane of the blank wall, typical of the minimal expression, usually changes to the scale of the building. It looks considerably larger, more massive than in reality. Symmetry-asymmetry. It cannot be stated that symmetry or asymmetry is typical of the minimal expression. Though at the first sight it seems that minimalism is characterised by geometry, the right order, and at the same time, by symmetry but we can present a number of examples continuing the asymmetric tradition of the Japanese Zen. Integrity is the most important quality of composition, without integrity we have no composition. In the composition, all elements must be connected into the whole complex. Aiming at the integrity of the composition, the simplest way is to give a geometrical form of the building. Therefore, displaying of geometrical regularities in architecture is one of the forms of artistic expression and a guarantee of the integrity of the composition. Sharpened integrity manifesting itself by blankness of the forms, the monolithic character is a necessary condition for the minimal expression. Statics–dynamics. In the chapter there are discussed contradictory problems of statics, stability, dynamics and mobility in the contemporary minimal architecture. In architecture, we often observe some sluggishness and static character. The static character is mostly typical of the architecture heritage of ancient civilizations. Dynamism and multi-plane character became distinct as a leading motif in architecture of the 20th century. Essential influence of the dynamics character of contemporary forms, among them also minimal ones is made by the economical and scientifically-technological level of the society, its dynamism, intellectuality and metaphysics. Contemporary architecture is perceived as having not statics but stable form laid out dynamically in the space. In the contemporary context, dynamic models are especially attractive not only due to the fact that they propose flexible means of behaviour in active environments but also because they suggest thinking about lifeless, static forms as being dynamical, alive, changing forms of “life”, interacting with the environment and changing it. When the form of dynamic objects integral, laconic, clean and not overcrowded, then it conforms to the characteristics of the minimal expression. Most often these are not “hand”, angular geometrical forms, these dominate streamline, plastic surfaces that make the image of impetuosity, mobility and spinning. It is proven that the minimal form in the contemporary architecture may be not only static but also dynamic. Santrauka Be formos neįmanoma jokia architektūra, o minimalizmo atveju ji yra išskirtinai specifiška, vis dėlto minimalistinės raiškos pobūdį stipriai veikia įvairios kompozicinės priemonės. Straipsnyje aptariami įvairūs, siejami su minimalistine raiška, kompozicinių priemonių panaudojimo aspektai. Analizuojant architektūrinius objektus, daug kas priklauso nuo jų spalvinio pobūdžio, šviesos, šešėlių žaismo panaudojimo, jų masto, simetriškumo ar asimetrijos, vientisumo ar daugialypiškumo, nuo to, ar turima galvoje dinamiška gyvybės forma, atvira išorinėms įtakoms, ar statiškas objektas. Visuotinai yra susiformavę tam tikri minimalistinės raiškos stereotipai, pvz.: kad minimalistinei architektūrai yra būdinga balta spalva ar bent jau achromatiniai tonai (pilka, juoda), smulkumas, simetrija ir statika. Šiame straipsnyje siekiama paneigti minėtus stereotipus, pateikiant spalvingojo minimalizmo, asimetrinių ir dinamiškų minimalistinių architektūros objektų pavyzdžius, be to, atskleidžiamas jų tūrių masės ir vientisumo charakteris, šviesos ir šešėlių kompozicinė svarba.

Igor Rončević has been painting for a very long time with the consciousness that his painterly signature can be constructed from a series of disparate fragments, and so his collage paintings are composed of elements or stylistic details thanks to which his canvas has become a place where ambivalent worlds meet - an ntersection of their paths. Rončević is therefore, a painter of ludic individualism, but, at the same time, painter with wide erudition and above all, a curious pirit, who, in a unique way - in different clusters of itations - applies and joins together experiences from he entire history of art. In his works we have for some ime observed the meetings of some of at first sight rreconcilable contrasts - the experiences of Pop art, European and American abstraction, experiences of gestural and lyrical provenance, different traces and tyles of figuration... All this heterogeneous material has been relativized in his interpretation, often even in blasphemous combinations; in a conspicuously easy and organic way, these combinations merge into a unique whole consisting of forms and meanings which are difficult to decipher. Analysis of Rončević’s paintings reveals the absence of a specific rational system that accumulates the building blocks of a painting - a mental landscape - but not the absence of a peculiar talent for creating compositional balance in a painting.The basic building block in the cycle Dulčić’s fragments is the line - stripes, that is linear, ribbon-like shapes, curved lines which meander on the surface of the canvas, and in the painted area, lines freely applied with a finger in fresh paint. The basic ludic element is colour, and the cartography of the canvas is a road with innumerable directions. The painter, treating the surface of the canvas as a field of total action, creates networks of interlacing multicoloured verticals, lively blue, blue-green and brown hues, coloured without an apparent system or principle, and also of varying width but, despite the seemingly limited starting points of his painting, he creates situations rich in interesting shifts and intriguing pictorial and colouristic happenings. The painter’s main preoccupation is the interaction of ‘neon’ colours (obviously a reference to the twentieth-century’s ‘neon’ enthusiasts), which has been achieved with a simple composition consisting of a knot of interwoven ribbons of intense colours which belong to a different chromatic register in each painting. Streams of complementary or contrasting colours, which spread out across the painted field like the tributaries of a river, subject to confluence, adopting features of the neighbouring colour, sharing the light and darkness of a ‘neon’. Although the impression implies the opposite, the application of colours, their touching and eventual interaction are strictly controlled by the skill of a great colourist. Dulčić’s fragments display Rončević’s fascinating power of unexpected associative perception. The painter now reaches for the excess of colour remaining on his palette from the work on previous paintings. He applies the colour to the canvas with a spatula in a relief impasto, and he revives the dried background with a lazure glaze of a chosen colour. On a saturated but still obviously ‘neon’ grid, the painter - evenly, like a collage detail - applies islands of open colour on the surface of the painting, which he finally paints with a brush, applying vertical white lines over the colour. These shapes of an associative and metaphorical nature are an integral part of the semantic scaffolding of composition but, without particular declarative frameworks and associative attributes, we can never precisely say what they actually represent although they are reminiscent of many things, such as seeds, bacteria, cellular microcosm, unstable primitive forms of life, the macrocosm of the universe, the structures of crystals, technical graphs, calligraphy, secret codes... The linear clarity of the drawing makes motifs concrete and palpable, possessing volume, in fact, possessing bulging physicality. In new paintings, the personal sign of the artist, which arrived in the painting from the activity of the conscious and the unconscious, has been replaced with small shapes, most similar to an oval, which look like separate pieces attached to the surface of the painting and which are reminiscent of specific painterly and artistic tendencies. Their monochrome surfaces are filled with verticals which are particles of the rational or, to put it better, from the constructivist stylistic repertoire, reminiscent, for example, of Daniel Buren’s verticals. Two divergent components - the abstract and the rational - stylistically and typologically separate, but chronologically parallel - pour into an evocative encounter which reveals a nostalgia towards two-dimensional painting. Experiences of posters and graphic design, gestural abstraction, abstract expressionism, lyrical abstraction and everything else that can be observed in this cycle of paintings are a homage to global modern painting, while the islands on the paintings pay tribute to the constructivist section of the twentieth-century avant-garde. The contents of Rončević’s paintings are also reminiscent of the rhythmicality of human figures in Dulčić’s representations of the events on Stradun, town squares, beaches, dances... In addition, to Rončević, as a Mediterranean man - in his formative years - Dulčić was an important painter and, if we persist in searching for formal similarities in their ‘handwritings’, we will find them in the hedonism of painterly matter and the sensuality of colour, luxuriant layers, the saturation of impasto painting, gestural vitality, but mostly in the Mediterranean sensibility, the Mediterranean sonority of colour, their solarity, the southern light and virtuosity of their metiérs. Like Dulčić, Rončević is also re-confirmed as a painter of impulses, of lush, luscious and extremely personalized matter, of layers of pigments, of vehement and moveable gestures, of fluid pictorialism…* * *Let us also say in conclusion that Rončević does not want to state, establish or interpret anything but to incessantly reveal possibilities, their fundamental interchangeability and arbitrariness, and following that, a general insecurity. With the skill of an experienced master painter, he also questions relationships with eclecticism and the aesthetics of kitsch; for example, he explores how far a painter can go into ornamentalization, decorativeness and coquetry without falling into the trap of kitsch but to maintain regularly the classy independence of a multilayered artifact and to question the very stamina of painting. He persistently reveals loyalty to the traditional medium of painting, the virtuosity of his métier and a strong individual stamp, strengthening his own position as a peculiar and outstandingly cultivated painter, but he also exhibits the inventiveness which makes him both different and recognizable in a series of similar painting adventures.

The current research included obtaining the best performance specifications for a silicon device with a mono-crystalline type pn junction (pn–Si). A simulation of the device was performed by the use of a computer program in one dimension SCAPS-1D in order to reach the optimum thickness for both p and n layers and to obtain the best efficiency in performance of the pn-Si junction. The optimum device efficiency was eta (η) = 12.4236 % when the ideal thickness for the p and n layers was 5µm and 1.175µm, respectively (p=5 µm and n=1.75µm). The research included studying the effects of different spectra of solar illumination using simulation of the device; the usual solar spectrum AM1_5 G1 sun. Spectrum, Black body spectrum, White spectrum constant photon flux, White spectrum constant photon power, Monochromatic spectrum constant flux, and Monochromatic spectrum constant power. The highest efficiency was obtained from the monochrome spectrum with constant power (eta (η) =22.4338 %). The effects of different temperatures on the device was studied on 250K, 300K, 350K, 400K, and 450K. The highest efficiency was revealed for Monochromatic spectrum constant power (eta (η) =24.5381 %) when the temperature was 250K.

AbstractOnly a few scientific evidences for the use of Egyptian blue in Early Medieval wall paintings in Central and Southern Europe have been reported so far. The monochrome blue fragment discussed here belongs to the second church building of St. Peter above Gratsch (South Tyrol, Northern Italy, fifth/sixth century A.D.). Beyond cuprorivaite and carbon black (underpainting), 26 accessory minerals down to trace levels were detected by means of Raman microspectroscopy, providing unprecedented insights into the raw materials blend and conversion reactions during preparation, application, and ageing of the pigment. In conjunction with archaeological evidences for the manufacture of Egyptian blue in Cumae and Liternum and the concordant statements of the antique Roman writers Vitruvius and Pliny the Elder, natural impurities of the quartz sand speak for a pigment produced at the northern Phlegrean Fields (Campania, Southern Italy). Chalcocite (and chalcopyrite) suggest the use of a sulphidic copper ore, and water-insoluble salts a mixed-alkaline flux in the form of plant ash. Not fully reacted quartz crystals partly intergrown with cuprorivaite and only minimal traces of silicate glass portend solid-state reactions predominating the chemical reactions during synthesis, while the melting of the raw materials into glass most likely played a negligible role.

Objective: Describe the clinical changes observed in the oral mucosa after intraoraltattoos, evaluate tissue reactions for modifications of this type.Materials and methods: It made aa descriptive study of the clinical changes in the oral mucous was made in 11 patients who had had intraoral tattoos were interviewed to obtain general information such as age, socioeconomic status, educational level, presence of extraoral tattoos, body modifications, relevant medical history or problems with their modifications, intraoral tattoos collected data for the design, madedate, color type, location, changes and clinical findings among others. There was a complete stomatological examination, photographs were taken of body modification, intra and extra oral tattoos, it made Photograpic control and monitoring was made at 8, 15, 30 and 60 days before, an data collected in simplified tables.Results: All patients had at least one previous body modification. The most common site of intraoral tattoo was on the lower lip, the design was used with letters, tattoos are preferred monochrome, usually black pigment after 15 days the oral mucous does not seem to irreversible damage at 60 days the tattoo is stabilized, lost some color and definition but apparently does not produce any clinically relevant change.Conclusion: Within the limits of this investigation shows that the material used (pigment black) appears to be biocompatible. Not exist treaty or regulation on the use of specific inks, techniques, types of needle or calibration in the tattoo machines when are making a tattoo in this area, tattoo artists refer to work as best they feel and inks that are reliable on their clinical experiences . Biosafety at the sites of body modifications are becoming more strict and regulated. Key words:Tattoo, intraoral, lip.

The question of colour in architecture offers many potential points of entry. Taking an historical standpoint, one could discuss the use of bright colour in ancient Greek and Roman architecture, the importance of brilliantly coloured mosaic and stained glass to sacred architecture in the Byzantine and medieval periods, and the primacy of colour in non-Western architectural traditions both ancient and modern. It would be possible to trace prohibitions against the use of applied colour, derived from late 18th century notions of architectural morality—ideals demanding authenticity, honesty and directness in the expression of structure, function and materials. This puritan strand could be pursued into the modern movement, to its quasi-pathological attachment to whiteness.1 It would also be possible to note a trend which ran counter to dominant modernist attitudes to colour, in the eclectic 'neon historicism' of so-called 'post-modernist' architecture. But while it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the history of colour in architecture in passing, it has been well addressed elsewhere, and is in any case outside the scope of this paper.2 What is significant is that this history is marked throughout by many of the same, largely unspoken, prohibitions against colour that can be traced across other cultural realms—that which David Batchelor has described as a history of 'chromophobia'. As Batchelor writes; 'Chromophobia manifests itself in the many and varied attempts to purge colour from culture, to diminish its significance, to deny its complexity…. [T]his purging of colour is usually accomplished in one of two ways. In the first, colour is made out to be the property of some 'foreign' body—usually the feminine, the oriental, the primitive, the infantile, the vulgar, the queer or the pathological. In the second, colour is relegated to the realm of the superficial, the supplementary, the inessential or the cosmetic. In one, colour is regarded as alien and therefore dangerous; in the other it is perceived merely as a secondary quantity of experience, and thus unworthy or serious consideration.'3 Numerous examples of the attempt to 'purge' colour can be identified throughout the history of architecture in the modern period. The mode of chromophobia particular to architecture may be summarised thus: colour in architecture has been associated with illusion and frivolity, and thus with decoration—it has been seen as being excess or supplementary to 'real' architecture.4 Discussions of colour in architecture can never be completely distinguished from discussions of ornament, or of materials and materiality. Colour is not necessarily a problem in itself—it is acceptable, for instance, when it is inherent to the material or to its weathering process, as in the bright green of copper verdigris. It is the application of colour, in the form of paint or stain, that raises questions of authenticity. The importance of surface and colour have been consistently made subordinate to architectural form; and the idea that colour is acceptable in interiors but not exteriors is merely the expression of another hierarchy, linking and demoting the trivial, contingent, feminised interior in favour of universal, masculinized, heroic external form. In the modern period, a work of 'serious' Architecture (as opposed to vernacular, commercial, or 'popular' architecture) has most often either been white, or coloured in the subdued palette afforded by the inherent characteristics of 'natural' materials.5 This is nowhere more true than in institutional architecture generally, and museum architecture in particular. Museums and their stake in the neutral monochrome The museum as an institution has traditionally functioned as a symbol of the establishment and its authority, a symbolic role often expressed in conventionally monumental architecture. This monumentality has, in turn, been reinforced by prestigious materials: much of the dignity and status of institutional architecture is taken from materials valued for their expense, rarity, or durability.6 Museum buildings are required to last, and thus they must not only use enduring materials, but materials which demonstrate their durability by being self-finishing in their natural, apparently neutral, state. The very idea that 'natural' materials are also somehow 'neutral' opens onto another, more ideological investment that the museum has in avoiding colour. Museums have long held a stake in the idea of an objective stance, and maintained the pretence of an unmediated presentation of historical fact. The notion of the museum as 'white cube' embodies all of this—the idea of the white cube, with its aformal form and achromatic colour, signifies purity and transcendence. Just as the whiteness of modern architecture was a continuation of the hygienic whiteness of doctor's coat, bathroom tiles, and hospital walls, the whiteness of the museum signifies clinical objectivity.7 It also, perhaps more significantly, stands for the ideal of the tabula rasa, the clean slate upon which the documentary evidence of art, history, or any other metanarrative could be methodically examined and arranged. For the museum, abandoning the neutrality of its public presentation may also mean a symbolic abandonment of objectivity. It would mean, if not a surrender to partiality, at least the admission of partiality—and the renunciation of universal whiteness for the specificities of colour. In the modern period, applied colour can never be neutral, but is read as mask, disguise, or stain. In the postmodern period, the discourse of the 'new museology' has challenged and discredited many of the ideological complicities of the idea of the museum as 'white box', linked as they are with a suspiciously absolutist rhetoric of abstract purity. Museums have increasingly begun to render explicit their role in the re-presentation of history, and to work at recontextualising ideas and artefacts. But even if a critical and self-reflexive stance is now more common in museological practice, it has taken much longer to begin to inform museum architecture. It would be a very courageous museum indeed that was willing to cash in all of the chips of its cultural authority, of which prestigious monumental architecture is a particularly powerful source. Most museums are still, if not white, at least respectably neutral, inside and out. But not so the National Museum of Australia (NMA). This museum, in its polychromatic formal complexity, could hardly be further from a 'white cube' museum. The National Museum of Australia: flirting with the flippant The NMA is housed in a loud and gregarious building. From its controversial strategy of literally appropriating elements from other canonical modernist works, through the coded messages of the Braille patterns on its surface, to the device of the extruded string and red 'knot' which passes through and around the building's form, it is relentless in its challenge to conventional institutional architecture. This is nowhere more true than in its colouration—there is hardly a neutral tone in sight. For that matter, there is hardly a 'natural' material in sight either—the majority of the building is constructed from pre-formed aluminium panelling in grey, yellow, red and khaki, crossed in places by sweeping calligraphic symbols.8 The dramatic aerial loop at the museum's entry is white and bright orange. There are walls of black dimpled pre-formed concrete, blue painted poles (get it?), a 'Mexican wave' of multicoloured steel sheets, and of course the richly cacophonous Garden of Australia Dreams. There are also some deliberate plays on colour symbolism—Le Corbusier's gleaming white modernist classic, the Villa Savoye, is reversed and reconstituted in black, corrugated steel. The fact that this forms part of the Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies is a hint of the building's clear, even dangerously frank, employment of colour symbolism. Given the architects previous work, we can safely assume that in this case, as elsewhere in the building, the choice of colours is calculated for maximum rhetorical effect. But I am less concerned here with the specific ploys of the architects than with the ways in which the building's reception has been conditioned by its employment of colour, specifically the ways in which it has been construed as populist. The NMA has polarised the architectural community in Australia. While much of the comment directed at the building has centred around its contravention of standards of taste and propriety in civic architecture, I would argue that this is only the symptom of a deeper reaction against its apparent frivolity, as signified most strongly by its colour. This is exemplified in a critique of the building by Stephen Frith, a respected Canberra academic. Concluding a polemical review in the Canberra Times, Frith asks: But why such tongue-lashings and breast-beatings over what has quickly established itself as a happy theme park to mediocrity? Surely its condoning of the ruthless kitsch of petty capitalism in its imagery and finishes provides for some spectre of merit? The problem becomes one of the civic domain in which architecture and its rhetoric is interpreted. For a supposedly public work, the museum is an intensely private building, privately encoded with in-jokes, and in the end hugely un-funny... The confection of cheap cladding and plasterboard is a spurious sideshow of magpie borrowings passing themselves off as cultural reference...9 Everything in this passage decries what Frith reads as the NMA's verisimilitude of popularity - the reference to theme-parks, sideshows, commercialism - a confection constructed with poor quality materials and finishes, which nevertheless flirts 'pretentiously' with the canon of modern architecture. To Frith the building reads not as a cheap and cheerful reflection of the Australian vernacular, but as a demeaning attempt to raise a laugh from the elite at the expense of the uncomprehending masses. His complaint is thus two-fold—that the building has insufficient gravitas, and that this is compounded rather than redeemed by the fact that it is not truly popular at all, but rather 'intensely private'. There is an important distinction to be made here, then, between 'populism' and 'popularity'. Populism has the negative connotation of deliberately seeking popular acceptance at the cost of quality, intellectual rigour, or formal aesthetic value. 'Popularity' still retains its more neutral modern sense, either of actual public involvement, or of things that are socially recognised as popular. In architecture, populism is already hedged about with prohibitions springing from the idea that a deliberately populist architecture is somehow fraudulent. A piece of serious, civic, monumental architecture should neither set out expressly to be popular, nor to look like it is, so the logic goes: if a work of high architecture happens to gain popular acclaim, then that is a happy accident. But there are significant reasons why such popularity must be seen to be incidental to other, more lofty concerns. Given that colour is seen to be 'popular', a highly coloured building is thus assumed to be 'lowering' itself in order to appeal to popular taste. Old systems of thought endure, and both museums and architecture are each subject to an unspoken hierarchy that still sees 'populism', if not actual popularity, as inferior. Conclusions: colour as the sign of a critical engagement But there is another possible reading of the NMA's apparent populism. I would argue that the building in fact presents and problematises the question of popularity in formal architectural terms. This leads to a proposition: that there is a 'look' of populism that exists independently of any intended or actual popularity, or even a connection with popular culture. I would argue that the NMA opens an elaborate play on this 'look' of the popular, and that it does so by manipulating certain key aesthetic devices: literal and figurative elements, visual jokes, non-orthogonal forms, and most significantly, bright and mixed colour. Such devices carry a weight of expectation and association, they cause a building to be read or socially recognised as being populist, largely as a result of pre-existing dichotomies between 'high' and 'low' art. In this conception the NMA, turning the modernist prohibition on its head, uses colour as the deliberately frivolous disguise of a profoundly serious intent. Rather than concealing the absence of meaning, it conceals an overabundance of meaning—a despairing accumulation of piled up allegories, codes and fragments. It is thus deeply ironic that the NMA has been read as a light, flippant, and populist confection, since I would argue that it could hardly be further from being those things. Rather than taking the usual path, of seeking cultural authority through allusion to traditional monumental architecture, the NMA makes perverse references to the seemingly trivial, commercial, and populist. The reasons why the architects might want the building to be (mis)read in this way are complex. But by renouncing the aesthetic trappings of a serious institution, the NMA reveals the very superficiality of such trappings. Furthermore, by renouncing the 'look of authority' in favour of colour, frivolity, and apparent populism, it introduces a note of doubt. Could the building, and thus the institution - a national museum, remember, charged with representing the nation and placed in the national capital - really be as flippant as it seems? Or is there some more subtle game afoot, a subversive questioning of accepted notions of Australian national history and national identity? I would argue that this is so. In the NMA, then, colour is the sign of a critical engagement. It positions the building itself as a discourse or discussion, not only of architectural colour as conferring inferiority and flippancy, but of a lack of colour as conferring authority and legitimacy. Of course, it is precisely because of architecture's history of chromophobia that colour can itself become a tool for subversiveness, provide an invitation to alternative readings, and collapse unspoken hierarchies. In this respect, the colour in and of the NMA provides an emblem of that which has long been marginalised in architecture, and in culture more generally. Notes 1. Mark Wigley writes that the primacy of whiteness in high modernist architecture (particularly the work of Le Corbusier) lies partly in the removal of decoration. '[The] erasure of decoration is portrayed [by Le Corbusier] as the necessary gesture of a civilized society. Indeed, civilization is defined as the elimination of the 'superfluous' in favour of the 'essential' and the paradigm of inessential surplus is decoration. Its removal liberates a new visual order. Echoing an argument at least as old as Western philosophy, Le Corbusier describes civilization as a gradual passage from the sensual to the intellectual, from the tactile to the visual. Decoration's 'caresses of the senses' are progressively abandoned in favour of the visual harmony of proportion.' Mark Wigley, White Walls, Designer Dresses: The Fashioning of Modern Architecture, MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1995, pp. 2-3 2. See for example John Gage's superb and authoritative history of the use and meaning of colour, Colour and Meaning: Art, Science and Symbolism, Thames and Hudson, London, 1999. For a survey of the use of colour in architecture, see Tom Porter, Architectural Colour: A Design Guide to Using Colour on Buildings, Whitney Library of Design, New York, 1982, or the more recent Architectural Design Profile number 120: Colour in Architecture, AD, vol. 66, no 3/4, March/April 1996. These are only a few examples of the available literature. 3. David Batchelor, Chromophobia, Reaktion Books, London, 2000, pp. 22-23. 4. The notable exception to this - the architecture of schools is emblematic in itself: colour is appealing to children, so the logic would go, because they have undeveloped, 'primitive' tastes. 5. William Braham has perceptively examined the allure of 'natural' materials and colours in the modern period. He writes that 'the natural can only be understood as a somewhat flexible category of finishes, not by a single principle of use, manufacture, or appearance. The fact that a family of paint colours neutrals, ochres, and other earth colours fit within the definition of natural is only partly explained by their original manufacture with naturally occurring mineral compounds. Though they are opaque surface coatings, they resemble the tones produced in natural materials by weathering.' He goes on to say that the 'natural/neutral palette' is characterised by 'the difficult pursuit of authenticity', and this question goes indeed to the heart of the issue of colour in architecture. William W. Braham, 'A Wall of Books: The Gender of Natural Colours in Modern Architecture', JAE Journal of Architectural Education, vol. 53. No.1, September 1999, p. 10. 6. But perhaps more important than actual durability in institutional architecture is the appearance of durability, and this appearance is undermined by protective treatments like paint, whether coloured or not. Materials which are seen as flimsy or fragile may as well be coloured, so the logic goes, since they require constant re-painting anyway, and since it fits their low status. 7. Mark Wigley, White Walls, Designer Dresses: The Fashioning of Modern Architecture, MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1995, p. 5. 8. Aluminium panelling is a new technology and a new material one that was unknown in the high modernist period but which is becoming increasingly ubiquitous today. The fact that aluminium panelling is coloured during the manufacturing process opens a new and interesting question: is this colour inherent, or is it simply applied earlier in the building process? Is it, in other words, an 'honest' or a 'dishonest' colour? Given that aluminium does have its own colour, and that it can be lacquered or anodised to retain that colour, it seems that the aluminium panelling of the NMA have been received as 'dishonest'. 9. Frith, 'A monument to lost opportunity', The Canberra Times, 20 March 2001 Citation reference for this article MLA Style Stead, Naomi. "White cubes and red knots" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.3 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php>. Chicago Style Stead, Naomi, "White cubes and red knots" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 3 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Stead, Naomi. (2002) White cubes and red knots. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(3). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php> ([your date of access]).

IntroductionContemporary theorisations of family often present change in marriage as an icon of deinstitutionalisation (Cherlin). This idea, widely discussed in sociology, has been deepened and extended by Giddens, Beck and Beck-Gernsheim, Beck-Gernsheim and Bauman, considered to be the main architects of the individualisation, detraditionalisation and risk theses (Brannen and Nielsen). According to these authors, contemporary family is an ephemeral, fluid, and fragilereality, and weakening as a traditional institution. At the same time, and partly as a result of the changes to this institution, there has been a rise in the individual’s capacity to reflect on and choose their own life, to the point that living a life of their own becomes the individual’s defining injunction. Based on an in-depth and detailed analysis of a number of young Portuguese people’s accounts of their entry into conjugality, this paper seeks to unveil some of the hidden constraints which persist despite this claim to individualisation. Whilst individuals incorporate a personalised narrative in their construction of that “special day” – stressing the performance of the wedding they wanted, in the way they chose – these data show the continuing influence of the family on individual decisions (e.g. to marry or not to marry, and how to marry). These empirical findings thus contribute to the recent body of literature complexifying the individualisation and detraditionalisation theses (Smart and Shipman, Gross, Smart, Eldén).Using Sociology to Unveil Individualisation’s Hidden ConstraintsThis discussion of contemporary marriages is driven by empirical data from a sociological qualitative study based on episodic interviews (Flick, An Introduction to Qualitative Research and The Episodic Interview). This research (Costa) was developed in 2009 and aimed at an in-depth understanding of family practices (Morgan, Risk and Family Practices, Family Connections and Rethinking Family Practices), specifically family rituals (Bossard and Boll, Imber-Black and Roberts, Wolin and Bennett). Using a theoretical sampling (Glaser and Strauss), accounts were collected from 30 middle-class individuals, both men and women, living in an urban medium-sized city (Évora) in the south of Portugal (southern Europe), and with at least one small child between the age of 3 and 14 years old. Confidentiality and anonymity were maintained, and all names used in this paper are pseudonyms. For the purposes of this paper, I focus only on the women’s accounts. On the one hand, particularly for them, socialisation and media culture helped to consolidate a social representation around the wedding (Gillis, Marriages of the Mind); on the other hand, their more exhaustive descriptions of the wedding day allow better for examining the hidden constraints to individualisation. Data were coded and analysed through a thematic and structural content analysis (Bardin). The analysis of emerging themes and issues regarding the diverse ways of entering into conjugality was primarily assisted by qualitative software (NVivo, QSR International) and then presented in the form of contextualised narratives. Using a sociological perspective, the themes presented below illustrate the major conclusions of this study. Big Decisions: To Marry or Not to Marry? How to Marry?At the core of the decision of whether “to marry or not to marry?” and “how to marry?,” one can find multiple and complex arguments, which go beyond simplistic justifications based exclusively on the couple’s decision (Chesser; Maillochnon and Castrén). Women in particular display an awareness of the ways in which their decisions regarding marriage are crossed by the will, desires or preferences of the parents or in-laws. This was the case of Maria dos Anjos, married at the age of 26:It was a choice of the two of us [to marry]. Not an imposition. I didn’t care whether we were married by church or not… and there were times when I even put forward the possibility of a simple civil marriage. However, my parents really liked that I got married by the church. I'm not sure if this is due to tradition, if… and... they talked about it… and I also thought it was beautiful... it was a beautiful party... the dress, all that fantasy... and I really loved marrying in the church... so it became a strong possibility when we began to think about it [to get marry]… The argument that two people might marry because of or also to please the parents or in-laws explains, at least partially, a certain pressure that the fiancées feel before marriage to marry “in a certain way.” Filipa, who dated for ten years, lived the wedding day like “the realisation of a childhood’s dream.” The satisfaction she obtained was shared with her parents and in-laws:To marry in the church, with the wedding dress, and everything else... My mother in-law is a religious person too, right? So we felt that we both like it, the two of us, my mother, my mother-in-law, they would also like it, so we decided to marry in the church. To do the parents’ will is to meet the expectations around a “beautiful” wedding, but sometimes also to fulfil the marriage that the parents did not have. Lurdes is an only daughter, married at the age of 29. She argues that “marriage should be primarily significant for those who actually marry, not the parents or in-laws”. Yet, that was not her case: For us, maybe it was not so important; the paper signed, the ceremony in the church… maybe the two of us made it for our parents. It doesn’t mean that we didn’t have fun [...] and I don’t mean by this that it was a sacrifice, or a hardship […] My mother had no more daughters, and had a great will to marry her only daughter in the church. My mother was not married by the church, but was only married by civil registry. She never managed to convince my dad to get married by the church. And perhaps it was a bit... to project on me what she had not done! Despite her having the will to do but did not achieve it. And maybe I made her wish come true; I realise that she had that desire, a great desire that her daughter would marry in the church. For me, it was not a problem. So, we finally did agree and married in the church. The family of origin thus clearly has a great influence over some of the big decisions associated with marriage, such as whether to get married at all, and whether to involve the church in the process.Small decisions: It Is All about Details! The intrusion of the family of origin is also felt on the apparently more individual decisions as the choice of the dress or several other details concerning the organisation of the ceremony and the party (Chesser, Leeds-Hurwitz). The wedding dress is a good example of how women in particular perceive a certain pressure for conformity and subjection to buy it or choose it “in a certain way.” Silvia, who married at age 23, remembers: I married with a traditional wedding dress, even though I did not want to. I took a long veil, yet I did not want it... because at the time... I wanted to take a short dress... my mum thought I should not... because my mother did not marry in a wedding dress, did not marry in the church, she was already pregnant at the time and so on [downgrade of the tone] so she made pressure so that I was dressed properly.Precisely in order to run away from these impositions, some women admit having bought the dress alone, almost secretly. Maria dos Anjos, for example, chose and bought the wedding dress alone so that she did not have to give in to pressure from anyone: I really enjoyed it! I took a wedding dress... I was the one who chose it; I went to buy it myself, with my own money. I said to myself ‘the wedding dress, I will choose it; I will not be constrained by... I will not take my godmother and then think’... oh... I knew that if I did it, I would have to submit a little to her likes and dislikes… no! So I went to choose the dress alone. The girl who was in the shop was an acquaintance of mine, I tried a lot of them, and when I tried that one, I said to myself ‘this is it!’ and so it was the one!The position of the spouses in the sibling group also has an effect on numerous decisions that fiancées must make in the lead-up to the wedding. Raquel, who felt this pressure before marriage, attributed it to a large extent to the fact that her husband is an only child: Pressure in the sense that João [her husband]... he is an only child, right? So… his parents were always very concerned with certain things. And... everybody... even little things that had no importance, they wanted to decide on that! […] There are a lot of things that have to be decided, a lot of detail and… what I really think is that it is a really unique day, and it's all very important and all that but... but... then each one gives his/her opinion... And ‘I want this,’ ‘I want that,’ ‘I want the other’… it's too much; it's a lot of pressure... to manage... on one side, on the other side… because to try not to hurt vulnerabilities ends up being... crazy. Completely! Those fifteen days before... I think they are... they are a little crazy!Seemingly unimportant details (such as the fact that the mother did not marry in a wedding dress) end up becoming major arguments behind the suggestions or impositions made by both parents and in-laws in relation to decisions surrounding their children’s weddings.(Un)important Decisions: The Guest List The parents of the couple are often heavily involved in the planning of the wedding partly because, although the day is officially about the bride and groom, it is also the way that the parents share this important milestone with their family and friends (Pleck, Kalmijn, Maillochnon and Castrén). Interviewees say it is “easy” to decide on the guest list, since, at first glance arguments behind the most significant family relatives and friends to be present on the wedding day have to do with proximity, relationality and pleasure or happiness in sharing the moment. Nevertheless, it can be a hard task for couples to implement the criteria of proximity in the selection of guests as initially planned. In cases where the family is larger and there are economic constraints, it is common for fiancées to feel some unpleasantness from those relatives who would like to have been invited and were not. In other cases, parents, closer to the extended family, are the ones who produce this tension. On the one hand, they feel the need to justify to some relatives the choices of their adult children who did not include them in the guest list; on the other hand, they are forced to accept the fact that that decision lies with the couple. When planning the marriage of Dora, her mother at one point said something like “[…] ‘but my aunt invited us to her wedding and now...’” Dora understood the suspension of the sentence as a subtle pressure from her mother, although, for her, the question was indeed a very simple one: I give a lot of importance to the people who are with me on a day-to-day basis and that really are with me in good and bad times. [...] It happened. It was easy. For me, it was [laughs]. To my way of thinking it was. It cost my parents. However, not to me [laughs]. It cost me nothing! When the family is larger – but when there are no economic constraints which limit the number of guests – it is more common that weddings are bigger. In these circumstances, it is also more common to have a certain meddling from the families of origin encouraging couples to include the guests of the parents. Teresa admits this is precisely what happened with her: It was not so difficult because we were not also so limited. […] We left everything to the satisfaction of all. […] there were many people who were distant relatives, whom I was not close to. It didn’t really matter to me whether those people were present or not. It had more to do with the will of my parents. And usually we were also invited to those people’s weddings, so maybe it was also because of that… In some other cases there is a kind of agreement between parents and adult children, which allows both to invite “whoever they want”. This is the case of Marina, who had 194 guests “on her side,” against around 70 invited by her husband: I invited more people than him. Why? Well... I could count on my parents, right? And what my parents told me was: ‘you invite whoever you want!’. So, I invited my friends, and some other people I was not as close to, but who my parents wanted me to invite, right? […] but ok, they made a point of inviting them, and since they did not impose any financial limits, instead, they said to me ‘invite whoever you want to’, and we invited... For me, it was a ‘deal.’ I was indifferent about it [laughs]. Marina admits that she made a “deal” with her parents. By letting them pay the costs, she gave tacit consent that they could invite those who they wanted, even if it was the case those guests “didn’t relate to [her] at all.” At the wedding of Raquel, the fact that “there is family that [only her] parents were keen on inviting” was one of the main points of contention between her parents and the couple. The indignation was greater since it was “your [their own, not the parent’s] wedding” and they were being pressed to include people who they “hardly knew,” and with whom they “had no connection”: There were people who came who I did not know even who they were! Never seen them anywhere... but ok, my parents were keen on inviting some people, because they know them and all that... and then... it went into widening, extending and then... it ended up with more than one hundred guests […] we wanted it to be more intimate, more... with closer people… but it was not! The engaged couple thus recognises the importance of the parents’ guests. As one of the interviewees points out, the question is not so much the imposition of the will of the parents, rather the recognition of the importance of certain guests because “they are important to the parents.” Thus, the importance of these guests is not directly measured by the couple, but indirectly by being part of the importance that parents give them.Counter-Decisions: Narratives from the Inside Out Joana, a first daughter, “felt in her skin” the “punishment” for not having succumbed to the pressure she felt over her decision to marry. She told us she had her teenage dreams; however, as she grew older she identified herself less and less with the wedding ceremony. Moreover, with the death of her grandmother, who was especially meaningful to her, “it no longer made sense” to arrange that kind of ceremony since it would always be “incomplete” without her presence. Her boyfriend also did not urge that they marry, instead preferring to live in a de facto union. Joana felt strongly the pressure to take on a role that her parents and in-laws wanted: on the one hand, because she was “a girl, and the oldest daughter;” on the other hand, because her mother-in-law insisted since she had not saw her other daughter to get marry in church, as she was only civilly married. In fact, Joana could marry in church because she had been educated in the Catholic religion and met all the formal requirements to perform a religious marriage: I was the person who was prepared to move forward with this. And I did not! I'm not sorry. I don’t regret it at all! Although not regretted, Joana felt “very deeply” the gap between the expectations of her parents and the direction that she decided to give to her life when she told her parents she did not wanted to marry. She had the same boyfriend since adolescence, whom she moved in with on a New Year's Day at the age of 27. On that evening she organised a small party in the house they had rented and furnished, and stayed there for good. The mother “never forgave her.” The following year, when her sister got married, Joana “had the punishment” of, in the eyes of the mother, “not having done the right thing”: one thing I would have loved to have was a nightshirt [old piece of clothing, handmade] of my grandmother [...] But my mother kept the nightshirt and gave it to my sister on the day she married! My sister also loved my grandmother..., but she didn’t have the same emotional bond that I had with her! So, I got hurt. Honestly, I got! And the day of my sister's wedding for me it was full of surprises... This episode is particularly revealing of how Joana experienced the disappointment that caused to her parents for not having married: I did not have the faintest idea that she [her mother] was going to do that... Yet she kept it [the nightshirt]! [...] She kept it, and then she gave it to my sister! [...] It was my grandmother’s! And then I said, ‘but I was the first to get married!’ And it was I who had a closer relationship with my grandmother. I found it very unfair! [...] Joana sees this wedding gift as “a prize”: It was... she [her sister] was awarded because ‘you did the right thing,’ ‘you got married,’ ‘you had done it with all the pomp ... so take this [the nightshirt], that was of your grandmother!’ The day of her sister's wedding would still hold another surprise for Joana, that one coming from her father. She remembers always seeing at home a bottle of aged whiskey that her father “kept for the first daughter who gets to marry.” I did not get married, right? And... and it was sad to see that day and get the bottle open, the bottle that was proudly kept untouched for many years until the first daughter to marry... Whilst most women admit to have given in to pressure from parents and in-laws, Joana’s example demonstrates another side – emotionally painful – of those who did not conform to marry or to marry in a certain way.Conclusion Based on empirical research on marriages as a family ritual, I have argued that behind representations and discourses of a wedding “of our own,” quite often individuals grant the importance, of, and sometimes they are even pressured by, their families of origin (e.g. parents and in-laws). At the crossroad of tradition and modernity, this pressure is pervasive from the most important to the most apparently trivial decisions or details concerning the mise en scène of the ritual elements chosen to give a symbolic meaning to the ceremony and party (Chesser, Leeds-Hurwitz).Empirical findings and data discussion thus confirm and reinforce the high symbolic value that, despite all the changes weddings, still assume in contemporary society (Berger and Kellner, Segalen and Gillis, A World of their Own Making, Our Virtual Families and Marriages of the Mind). The power and influence of the size and density of the families of origin is not a part of history left behind by the processes of individualization and detraditionalization; rather, families continue to play a central role in structuring the actual options behind the anticipation, planning, and organisation of the wedding. This demonstrates that the reality of contemporary relationality is vastly more textured (Smart) than the normative generalisations of the individualisation and detraditionalisation theses imply, and suggests that in contemplating contemporary marriage conventions, the overt claims to individual choice and autonomy should be be contextualised by the variety of relationships the bride and groom participate in. References Bardin, Laurence. L’Analyse de Contenu. Paris: PUF, 1977. Bauman, Zygmunt. Liquid Love: On the Frailty of Human Bonds. Cambridge: Polity, 2003. Beck, Ulrich, and Beck-Gernsheim, Elisabeth. The Normal Chaos of Love. Cambridge: Polity, 1995. Beck-Gernsheim, Elisabeth. Reinventing the Family: In search of New Lifestyles. Cambridge: Polity, 2002. Berger, Peter, and Kellner, Hansfried. “Marriage and the constitution of reality.” Diogenes 46 (1964): 1–24. Bossard, James, and Boll, Eleanor. Ritual in Family Living – A Contemporary Study. Philadelphia: U Pennsylvania P, 1950. Brannen, Julia, and Nielsen, Ann. “Individualisation, Choice and Structure: a Discussion of Current Trends in Sociological Analysis.” The Sociological Review 53.3 (2005): 412–28. Cherlin, Andrew. “The Deinstitutionalization of American Marriage.” Journal of Marriage and Family 66 (2004): 848–861. Chesser, Barbara Jo. “Analysis of Wedding Rituals: An Attempt to Make Weddings More Meaningful.” Family Relations 29.2 1980): 204—09. Costa, Rosalina. Pequenos e Grandes Dias: os Rituais na Construção da Família Contemporânea [Small and Big Days. The Rituals Constructing Contemporay Families]. PhD Thesis in Social Sciences – specialization ‘General Sociology’. University of Lisbon: Institute of Social Sciences of the University of Lisbon (ICS-UL), 2011 ‹http://hdl.handle.net/10451/4770›. Eldén, Sara. “Scripts for the ‘Good Couple’: Individualization and the Reproduction of Gender Inequality.” Acta Sociologica 55.1 (2012): 3–18. Flick, Uwe. An Introduction to Qualitative Research. Sage Publications: London, 1998. —. The Episodic Interview: Small-scale Narratives as Approach to Relevant Experiences (Series Paper) (1997). 29 Oct. 2010 ‹http://www2.lse.ac.uk/methodologyInstitute/pdf/QualPapers/Flick-episodic.pdf›. Giddens, Anthony. The Transformation of Intimacy: Sexuality, Love and Eroticism in Modern Societies. Cambridge: Polity, 1992. Gillis, John. “Marriages of the Mind.” Journal of Marriage and Family 66.4 (2004): 988–91. —. A World of their Own Making. Myth, Ritual, and the Quest for family Values. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1996. —. Our Virtual Families: Toward a Cultural Understanding of Modern Family Life, The Emory Center for Myth and Ritual in American Life – Working Paper, 2. Rutgers U/Department of History (2000). 03 Nov. 2005 ‹http://www.marial.emory.edu/pdfs/Gillispaper.PDF›. Glaser, Barney, and Strauss, Anselm. The Discovery of Grounded Theory: Strategies for Qualitative Research. Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company, 1967. Gross, Neil. “The Detraditionalization of Intimacy Reconsidered.” Sociological Theory 23.3 (2005): 286–311. Imber-Black, Evan, and Roberts, Janine. Rituals for Our Times: Celebrating, Healing, and Changing our Lives and our Relationships. New York: Harper Perennial, 1993. Kalmijn, Matthijs. “Marriage Rituals as Reinforcers of Role Transitions: an Analysis of Wedding in the Netherlands.” Journal of Marriage and Family 66 (2004): 582–94. Leeds-Hurwitz, Wendy. “Making Marriage Visible: Wedding Anniversaries as the Public Component of Private Relationships.” Text 25.5 (2005): 595–631. Maillochnon, Florence, and Castrén, Anna-Maija. “Making Family at a Wedding: Bilateral Kinship and Equality.” Families and Kinship in Contemporary Europe. Ed. Ritta Jallinoja, and Eric D. Widmer. Hampshire: Palgrave and Macmillan, 2011. 31–44. Morgan, David. “Risk and Family Practices: Accounting for Change and Fluidity in Family Life.” The New Family?. Ed. Elisabeth B. Silva, and Carol Smart. 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A politician’s political and personal selves have been in the spotlight of academic scholarship for hundreds of years, but only in recent years has a political ‘persona’ obtained new modes of mediation via networked media. New advancements in politics, technology, and media brought challenges to the traditional politics and personal self-representation of major leaders. Vladimir Putin’s divorce announcement in June 2013, posed a new challenge for his political self-mediation. A rather reserved leader (Loshak), he nonetheless broadcast his personal news to the large audience and made it in a very peculiar way, causing the media professionals and public to draw parallels with Soviet-era mediated politics and thereby evoke collective memories. This paper studies how Vladimir Putin’s divorce announcement was constructed and presented and also what response and opinion threads—satirical and humorous, ignorant and informed feedback—it achieved via media professionals and the general Twitter audience. Finally, this study aims to evaluate how Vladimir Putin’s political ‘persona’ was represented and perceived via these mixed channels of communication.According to classic studies of mediated political persona (Braudy; Meyrowitz; Corner), any public activity of a political persona is considered a part of their political performance. The history of political marketing can be traced back to ancient times, but it developed through the works of Renaissance and Medieval thinkers. Of particular prominence is Machiavelli’s The Prince with its famous “It is unnecessary for the prince to have all the good qualities I have enumerated, but it is very necessary to appear to have them” (cited in Corner 68). All those centuries-built developments and patterns of political self-representation have now taken on new forms as a result of the development of media industry and technology. Russian mediated politics has seen various examples of new ways of self-representation exercised by major politicians in the 2010s. For instance, former president Dmitry Medvedev was known as the “president with an iPad” (Pronina), as he was advocating technology and using social networks in order to seem more approachable and appear to be responsive to collecting feedback from the nation. Traditional media constantly highlighted Medvedev’s keen interest in Facebook and Twitter, which resulted in a growing public assumption that this new modern approach to self-representation may signify a new approach to governance (see Asmolov).Goffman’s classic study of the distinction between public and private life helps in linking political persona to celebrity persona. In his view the political presentation of self differs from the one in popular culture because politicians as opposed to entertainers have to conform to a set of ideals, projections, social stereotypes and cultural/national archetypes for their audience of voters (Goffman; Corner). A politician’s public persona has to be constantly reaffirming and proving the values he or she is promoting through their campaigns. Mediations of a political personhood can be projected in three main modes: visual, vocal, and kinetic (Ong; Mayhew; Corner). Visual representation follows the iconic paintings and photography in displaying the position, attitude, and associative contexts related to that. Vocal representation covers both content and format of a political speech, it is not only the articulated message, but also more important the persona speaking. Ong describes this close relation of the political and personal along with the interrelation of the message and the medium as “secondary orality”—voice, tone and volume make the difference. The third mode is kinetic representation and means the political persona in action and interaction. Overlapping of different strategies and structures of political self-representation fortifies the notion of performativity (Corner and Pels) in politics that becomes a core feature of the multidimensional representation of a mediated political self.The advancement of electronic media and interactive platforms has influenced political communication and set the new standard for the convergence of the political and personal life of a politician. On its own, the President Clinton/Monica Lewinsky affair raised the level of public awareness of the politician’s private life. It also allowed for widely distributed, contested, and mediated judgments of a politician’s personal actions. Lawrence and Bennett in their study of Lewinsky case’s academic and public response state that although the majority of American citizens did not expect the president to be the moral leader, they expressed ambivalence in their rendition of the importance of “moral leadership” by big politicians (438). The President Clinton/Lewinsky case adds a new dimension to Goffman and Corner’s respective discussions on the significance of values in the political persona self-representation. This case proves that values can not only be reinforced by one’s public persona, but those values can be (re)constructed by the press or public opinion. Values are becoming a contested trait in the contemporary mediated political persona. This view can be supported by Dmitry Medvedev’s case: although modern technology was known as his personal passion, it was publicised only with reference to his role as a public politician and specifically when Medvedev appeared with an iPad talking about modernisation at major meetings (Pronina). However, one can argue that one’s charisma can affect the impact of values in public self-representation of the politician. In addition, social networks add a new dimension to personified publicity. From Barack Obama’s ‘Yes We Can’ networked campaign in 2008 and through many more recent examples, we are witnessing the continuing process of the personalisation of politics (Corner and Pels). From one point of view, audiences tend to have more interest and sympathy in political individuals and their lifestyles rather than political parties and their programmes (Lawrence and Bennett; Corner and Pels). It should be noted that the interest towards political individuals does not fall apart from the historical logics of politics; it is only mediated in a new way. Max Weber’s notion of “leadership democracy” proves that political strategy is best distributed through the charismatic leadership imposing his will on the audience. This view can be strengthened by Le Bon’s concept of emotive connection of the leader and his crowd, and Adorno’s writings on the authoritarian personality also highlight the significance of the leader’s own natural and mediated persona in politics. What is new is the channels of mediation—modern audiences’ access to a politician’s private life is facilitated by new forms of media interactivity (Corner and Pels). This recent development calls for the new understanding of “persona” in politics. On one hand, the borderline between private and public becomes blurred and we are more exposed to the private self of a leader, but on the other hand, those politicians aware of new media literacy can create new structures of proximity and distance and construct a separate “persona” online, using digital media for their benefit (Corner and Pels). Russian official politics has developed a cautious attitude towards social networks in the post-Medvedev era - currently, President Vladimir Putin is not known for using social networks personally and transmits his views via his spokesperson. However, his personal charisma makes him overly present in digital media - through the images and texts shared both by his supporters and rivals. As opposed to Medvedev’s widely publicised “modernisation president” representation, Putin’s persona breaks the boundaries of limited traditional publicity and makes him recognised not only for his political activity, but looks, controversial expression, attitude to employees, and even personal life. That brings us back to Goffman, Corner and Lawrence and Bennett’s discussions on the interrelation of political values and personal traits in one’s political self-representation, making it evident that one’s strong personality can dominate over his political image and programme. Moreover, an assumption can be made that a politician’s persona may be more powerful than the narrative suggested by the constructed self-representation and new connotations may arise on the crossroads of this interaction.Russian President Divorce Announcement and Collective MemoryVladimir Putin’s divorce announcement was broadcast via traditional media on 6 June 2013 as a simple news story. The state broadcasting company Vesti-24 sent a journalist Polina Yermolayeva from their news bulletin to cover Vladimir Putin and Lyudmila Putin’s visit to a ballet production, Esmeralda, at the state Kremlin theatre. The news anchor’s introduction to the interview was ordinarily written and had no hints of the upcoming sensation. After the first couple and the journalist had discussed their opinion of the ballet (“beautiful music,” “flawless and light moves”), the reporter Yermolayeva suddenly asked: “You and Lyudmila are rarely seen together in public. Rumour has it that you do not live together. It is true?” Vladimir Putin and his wife exchanged a number of rather pre-scripted speeches stating that the first couple was getting a divorce as the children had grown old enough, and they would still stay friends and wished each other the best of luck. The whole interview lasted 3:25 minutes and became a big surprise for the country (Loshak; Sobchak).When applying the classification of three modes of political personhood (Corner; Ong) to Vladimir Putin’s divorce announcement, it becomes evident that all three modes—visual, vocal, and kinetic—were used. Television audiences watched their president speak freely to the unknown reporter, explain details of his life in his own words so that body language also was visible and conveyed additional information. The visual self-representation harkens back to classic, Soviet-style announcements: Vladimir Putin and Lyudmila Putina are dressed in classic monochrome suit and costume with a skirt respectively. They pose in front of the rather dull yet somewhat golden decorations of the Kremlin Theatre Hall, the walls themselves reflecting the glory and fanfare of the Soviet leadership and architecture. Vladimir Putin and his wife both talk calmly while Lyudmila appears even more relaxed than her husband (Sobchak). Although the speech looks prepared in advance (Loshak), it uses colloquial expressions and is delivered with emotional pauses and voice changes.However, close examination of not only the message but the medium of the divorce announcement reveals a vast number of intriguing symbols and parallels. First, although living in the era of digital media, Vladimir Putin chose to broadcast his personal news through a traditional television channel. Second, it was broadcast in a news programme making the breaking news of the president’s divorce, paradoxically, quite a mundane news event. Third, the semiotic construction of the divorce announcement bore a lot of connotations and synergies to the conservative, Soviet-style information distribution patterns. There are a few key symbols here that evoke collective memories: ballet, conservative political report on the government, and the stereotype of a patriarchal couple with a submissive wife (see Loshak; Rostovskiy). For example, since the perestroika of the 1990s, ballet has been widely perceived as a symbol of big political change and cause of public anxiety (Kachkaeva): this connotation was born in the 1990s when all channels were broadcasting Swan Lake round the clock while the White House was under attack. Holden reminds us that this practice was applied many times during major crises in Soviet history, thus creating a short link in the public subconscious of a ballet broadcast being symbolic of a political crisis or turmoil.Vladimir Putin Divorce: Traditional and Social Media ReceptionIn the first day after the divorce announcement Russian Twitter generated 180,000 tweets about Vladimir Putin’s divorce, and the hashtag #развод (“divorce”) became very popular. For the analysis that follows, Putin divorce tweets were collected by two methods: retrieved from traditional media coverage of Twitter talk on Putin’s divorce and from Twitter directly, using Topsy engine. Tweets were collected for one week, from the divorce announcement on 6 June to 13 June when the discussion declined and became repetitive. Data was collected using Snob.ru, Kommersant.ru, Forbes.ru, other media outlets and Topsy. The results were then combined and evaluated.Some of those tweets provided a satirical commentary to the divorce news and can be classified as “memes.” An “Internet meme” is a contagious message, a symbolic pattern of information spread online (Lankshear and Knobel; Shifman). Memes are viral texts that are shared online after being adjusted/altered or developed on the way. Starting from 1976 when Richard Dawkins coined the term, memes have been under media scholarship scrutiny and the term has been widely contested in various sciences. In Internet research studies, memes are defined as “condensed images that stimulate visual, verbal, musical, or behavioral associations that people can easily imitate and transmit to others” (Pickerel, Jorgensen, and Bennett). The open character of memes makes them valuable tools for political discourse in a modern highly mediated environment.Qualitative analysis of the most popular and widely shared tweets reveals several strong threads and themes round Putin’s divorce discussion. According to Burzhskaya, many users created memes with jokes about the relationship between Vladimir Putin and Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev. For instance, “He should have tied up his relationship with Dmitry Anatolyevich long ago” or “So actually Medvedev is the case?” were among popular memes generated. Another collection of memework contained a comment that, according to the Russian legislation, Putin’s ex-wife should get half of their wealth, in this case—half of the country. This thread was followed by the discussion whether the separation/border of her share of Russia should use the Ural Mountains as the borderline. Another group of Twitter users applied the Russian president’s divorce announcement to other countries’ politics. Thus one user wrote “Take Yanukovich to the ballet” implying that Ukrainian president Viktor Yanukovich (who was still a legitimate president in June 2013) should also be taken to the ballet to trigger changes in the political life in Ukraine. Twitter celebrity and well-known Russian actress and comedian Tatiana Lazareva wrote “In my opinion, it is a scam”, punning on the slang meaning of the word “razvod” (“divorce”) in Russian that can also mean “fraud” or “con”. Famous Russian journalist Dmitry Olshansky used his Twitter account to draw a historical parallel between Putin and other Russian and Soviet political leaders’ marital life. He noted that such Russian leaders as Tsar Nikolay the Second and Mikhail Gorbachev who loved their wives and were known to be good husbands were not successful managers of the state. In contrast, lone rulers of Russia such as Joseph Stalin proved to be leaders who loved their country first and gained a lot of support from their electorate because of that lonely love. Popular print and online journalist Oleg Kashin picked up on that specific idea: he quoted Vladimir Putin’s press secretary who explained that the president had declared that he would now spend more time working for the prosperity of the country.Twitter users were exchanging not only 140 symbol texts but also satirical images and other visual memes based on the divorce announcement. Those who suggested that Vladimir Putin should have divorced the country instead portrayed Lyudmila Putina and Vladimir holding candles and wearing funereal black with various taglines discussing how the country would now be split. Other users contributed visual memes jamming the television show Bachelor imagery and font with Vladimir Putin’s face and an announcement that the most desirable bachelor in the country is now its president. A similar idea was put into jammed images of the Let’s Get Married television show using Vladimir Putin’s face or name linked with a humorous comment that he could try those shows to find a new wife. One more thread of Twitter memes on Putin’s divorce used the name of Alina Kabaeva, Olympic gymnast who is rumoured by the press to be in relationship with the leader (Daily Mail Reporter). She was mentioned in plenty of visual and textual memes. Probably, the most popular visual meme (Burzhskaya; Topsy) used the one-liner from a famous Soviet comedy Ivan Vasylievich Menyaet Professiyu: it uses a joyful exclamation of an actress who learns that her love interest, a movie director, is leaving his wife so that the lovers can now fly to a resort together. Alina Kabaeva, the purported love interest of Putin, was jammed to be that actress as she announced the “triumphal” resort vacation plan to a girlfriend over the phone.Vladimir Putin’s 2013 divorce announcement presented new challenges for his personal and political self-representation and revealed new traits of the Russian president’s interaction with the nation. As the news of Vladimir and Lyudmila Putin’s divorce was broadcast via traditional media in a non-interactive television format, commentary on the event advanced only through the following week’s media coverage and the massive activity on social networks. It has still to be examined whether Vladimir Putin’s political advisors intentionally included many symbols of collective memory in the original and staid broadcast announcement. However, the response from traditional and social media shows that both Russian journalists and regular Twitter users were inclined to use humour and satire when discussing the personal life of a major political leader. Despite this appearance of an active counter-political sphere via social networks, the majority of tweets retrieved also revealed a certain level of respect towards Vladimir Putin’s privacy as few popular jokes or memes were aggressive, offensive or humiliating. Most popular memes on Vladimir Putin’s divorce linked this announcement to the political life of Russia, the political situation in other countries, and television shows and popular culture. Some of the memes, though, advanced the idea that Vladimir Putin should have divorced the country instead. The analysis also shows how a charismatic leader can affect or reconstruct the “values” he represents. In Vladimir Putin’s divorce event, his personality is the main focus of discussion both by traditional and new media. However, he is not judged for his personal choices as the online social media users provide rather mild commentary and jokes about them. The event and the subsequent online discourse, images and texts not only identify how Putin’s politics have become personified, the research also uncovers how the audience/citizenry online often see the country as a “persona” as well. Some Internet users suggested Putin’s marriage to the country; this mystified, if not mythologised view reinforces Vladimir Putin’s personal and political charisma.Conclusively, Vladimir Putin’s divorce case study shows how political and private persona are being mediated and merged via mixed channels of communication. 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The academic journal is obsolete. In a world where there are more titles than ever, this is a comment on their form – especially the print journal – rather than their quantity. Now that you can get everything online, it doesn’t really matter what journal a paper appears in; certainly it doesn’t matter what’s in the same issue. The experience of a journal is rapidly obsolescing, for both editors and readers. I’m obviously not the first person to notice this (see, for instance, "Scholarly Communication"; "Transforming Scholarly Communication"; Houghton; Policy Perspectives; Teute), but I do have a personal stake in the process. For if the journal is obsolete then it follows that the editor is obsolete, and I am the editor of the International Journal of Cultural Studies. I founded the IJCS and have been sole editor ever since. Next year will see the fiftieth issue. So far, I have been responsible for over 280 published articles – over 2.25 million words of other people’s scholarship … and counting. We won’t say anything about the words that did not get published, except that the IJCS rejection rate is currently 87 per cent. Perhaps the first point that needs to be made, then, is that obsolescence does not imply lack of success. By any standard the IJCS is a successful journal, and getting more so. It has recently been assessed as a top-rating A* journal in the Australian Research Council’s journal rankings for ERA (Excellence in Research for Australia), the newly activated research assessment exercise. (In case you’re wondering, M/C Journal is rated B.) The ARC says of the ranking exercise: ‘The lists are a result of consultations with the sector and rigorous review by leading researchers and the ARC.’ The ARC definition of an A* journal is given as: Typically an A* journal would be one of the best in its field or subfield in which to publish and would typically cover the entire field/ subfield. Virtually all papers they publish will be of very high quality. These are journals where most of the work is important (it will really shape the field) and where researchers boast about getting accepted.Acceptance rates would typically be low and the editorial board would be dominated by field leaders, including many from top institutions. (Appendix I, p. 21; and see p. 4.)Talking of boasting, I love to prate about the excellent people we’ve published in the IJCS. We have introduced new talent to the field, and we have published new work by some of its pioneers – including Richard Hoggart and Stuart Hall. We’ve also published – among many others – Sara Ahmed, Mohammad Amouzadeh, Tony Bennett, Goran Bolin, Charlotte Brunsdon, William Boddy, Nico Carpentier, Stephen Coleman, Nick Couldry, Sean Cubitt, Michael Curtin, Daniel Dayan, Ben Dibley, Stephanie Hemelryk Donald, John Frow, Elfriede Fursich, Christine Geraghty, Mark Gibson, Paul Gilroy, Faye Ginsberg, Jonathan Gray, Lawrence Grossberg, Judith Halberstam, Hanno Hardt, Gay Hawkins, Joke Hermes, Su Holmes, Desmond Hui, Fred Inglis, Henry Jenkins, Deborah Jermyn, Ariel Heryanto, Elihu Katz, Senator Rod Kemp (Australian government minister), Youna Kim, Agnes Ku, Richard E. Lee, Jeff Lewis, David Lodge (the novelist), Knut Lundby, Eric Ma, Anna McCarthy, Divya McMillin, Antonio Menendez-Alarcon, Toby Miller, Joe Moran, Chris Norris, John Quiggin, Chris Rojek, Jane Roscoe, Jeffrey Sconce, Lynn Spigel, John Storey, Su Tong, the late Sako Takeshi, Sue Turnbull, Graeme Turner, William Uricchio, José van Dijck, Georgette Wang, Jing Wang, Elizabeth Wilson, Janice Winship, Handel Wright, Wu Jing, Wu Qidi (Chinese Vice-Minister of Education), Emilie Yueh-Yu Yeh, Robert Young and Zhao Bin. As this partial list makes clear, as well as publishing the top ‘hegemons’ we also publish work pointing in new directions, including papers from neighbouring disciplines such as anthropology, area studies, economics, education, feminism, history, literary studies, philosophy, political science, and sociology. We have sought to represent neglected regions, especially Chinese cultural studies, which has grown strongly during the past decade. And for quite a few up-and-coming scholars we’ve been the proud host of their first international publication. The IJCS was first published in 1998, already well into the internet era, but it was print-only at that time. Since then, all content, from volume 1:1 onwards, has been digitised and is available online (although vol 1:2 is unaccountably missing). The publishers, Sage Publications Ltd, London, have steadily added online functionality, so that now libraries can get the journal in various packages, including offering this title among many others in online-only bundles, and individuals can purchase single articles online. Thus, in addition to institutional and individual subscriptions, which remain the core business of the journal, income is derived by the publisher from multi-site licensing, incremental consortial sales income, single- and back-issue sales (print), pay-per-view, and deep back file sales (electronic). So what’s obsolete about it? In that boasting paragraph of mine (above), about what wonderful authors we’ve published, lies one of the seeds of obsolescence. For now that it is available online, ‘users’ (no longer ‘readers’!) can search for what they want and ignore the journal as such altogether. This is presumably how most active researchers experience any journal – they are looking for articles (or less: quotations; data; references) relevant to a given topic, literature review, thesis etc. They encounter a journal online through its ‘content’ rather than its ‘form.’ The latter is irrelevant to them, and may as well not exist. The Cover Some losses are associated with this change. First is the loss of the front cover. Now you, dear reader, scrolling through this article online, might well complain, why all the fuss about covers? Internet-generation journals don’t have covers, so all of the work that goes into them to establish the brand, the identity and even the ‘affect’ of a journal is now, well, obsolete. So let me just remind you of what’s at stake. Editors, designers and publishers all take a good deal of trouble over covers, since they are the point of intersection of editorial, design and marketing priorities. Thus, the IJCS cover contains the only ‘content’ of the journal for which we pay a fee to designers and photographers (usually the publisher pays, but in one case I did). Like any other cover, ours has three main elements: title, colour and image. Thought goes into every detail. Title I won’t say anything about the journal’s title as such, except that it was the result of protracted discussions (I suggested Terra Nullius at one point, but Sage weren’t having any of that). The present concern is with how a title looks on a cover. Our title-typeface is Frutiger. Originally designed by Adrian Frutiger for Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, it is suitably international, being used for the corporate identity of the UK National Health Service, Telefónica O2, the Royal Navy, the London School of Economics , the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, the Conservative Party of Canada, Banco Bradesco of Brazil, the Finnish Defence Forces and on road signs in Switzerland (Wikipedia, "Frutiger"). Frutiger is legible, informal, and reads well in small copy. Sage’s designer and I corresponded on which of the words in our cumbersome name were most important, agreeing that ‘international’ combined with ‘cultural’ is the USP (Unique Selling Point) of the journal, so they should be picked out (in bold small-caps) from the rest of the title, which the designer presented in a variety of Frutiger fonts (regular, italic, and reversed – white on black), presumably to signify the dynamism and diversity of our content. The word ‘studies’ appears on a lozenge-shaped cartouche that is also used as a design element throughout the journal, for bullet points, titles and keywords. Colour We used to change this every two years, but since volume 7 it has stabilised with the distinctive Pantone 247, ‘new fuchsia.’ This colour arose from my own environment at QUT, where it was chosen (by me) for the new Creative Industries Faculty’s academic gowns and hoods, and thence as a detailing colour for the otherwise monochrome Creative Industries Precinct buildings. There’s a lot of it around my office, including on the wall and the furniture. New Fuchsia is – we are frequently told – a somewhat ‘girly’ colour, especially when contrasted with the Business Faculty’s blue or Law’s silver; its similarity to the Girlfriend/Dolly palette does introduce a mild ‘politics of prestige’ element, since it is determinedly pop culture, feminised, and non-canonical. Image Right at the start, the IJCS set out to signal its difference from other journals. At that time, all Sage journals had calligraphic colours – but I was insistent that we needed a photograph (I have ‘form’ in this respect: in 1985 I changed the cover of the Australian Journal of Cultural Studies from a line drawing (albeit by Sydney Nolan) to a photograph; and I co-designed the photo-cover of Cultural Studies in 1987). For IJCS I knew which photo I wanted, and Sage went along with the choice. I explained it in the launch issue’s editorial (Hartley, "Editorial"). That original picture, a goanna on a cattle grid in the outback, by Australian photographer Grant Hobson, lasted ten years. Since volume 11 – in time for our second decade – the goanna has been replaced with a picture by Italian-based photographer Patrick Nicholas, called ‘Reality’ (Hartley, "Cover Narrative"). We have also used two other photos as cover images, once each. They are: Daniel Meadows’s 1974 ‘Karen & Barbara’ (Hartley, "Who"); and a 1962 portrait of Richard Hoggart from the National Portrait Gallery in London (Owen & Hartley 2007). The choice of picture has involved intense – sometimes very tense – negotiations with Sage. Most recently, they were adamant the Daniel Meadows picture, which I wanted to use as the long-term replacement of the goanna, was too ‘English’ and they would not accept it. We exchanged rather sharp words before compromising. There’s no need to rehearse the dispute here; the point is that both sides, publisher and editor, felt that vital interests were at stake in the choice of a cover-image. Was it too obscure; too Australian; too English; too provocative (the current cover features, albeit in the deep background, a TV screen-shot of a topless Italian game-show contestant)? Running Order Beyond the cover, the next obsolete feature of a journal is the running order of articles. Obviously what goes in the journal is contingent upon what has been submitted and what is ready at a given time, so this is a creative role within a very limited context, which is what makes it pleasurable. Out of a limited number of available papers, a choice must be made about which one goes first, what order the other papers should follow, and which ones must be held over to the next issue. The first priority is to choose the lead article: like the ‘first face’ in a fashion show (if you don’t know what I mean by that, see FTV.com. It sets the look, the tone, and the standard for the issue. I always choose articles I like for this slot. It sends a message to the field – look at this! Next comes the running order. We have about six articles per issue. It is important to maintain the IJCS’s international mix, so I check for the country of origin, or failing that (since so many articles come from Anglosphere countries like the USA, UK and Australia), the location of the analysis. Attention also has to be paid to the gender balance among authors, and to the mix of senior and emergent scholars. Sometimes a weak article needs to be ‘hammocked’ between two good ones (these are relative terms – everything published in the IJCS is of a high scholarly standard). And we need to think about disciplinary mix, so as not to let the journal stray too far towards one particular methodological domain. Running order is thus a statement about the field – the disciplinary domain – rather than about an individual paper. It is a proposition about how different voices connect together in some sort of disciplinary syntax. One might even claim that the combination of cover and running order is a last vestige of collegiate collectivism in an era of competitive academic individualism. Now all that matters is the individual paper and author; the ‘currency’ is tenure, promotion and research metrics, not relations among peers. The running order is obsolete. Special Issues An extreme version of running order is the special issue. The IJCS has regularly published these; they are devoted to field-shaping initiatives, as follows: Title Editor(s) Issue Date Radiocracy: Radio, Development and Democracy Amanda Hopkinson, Jo Tacchi 3.2 2000 Television and Cultural Studies Graeme Turner 4.4 2001 Cultural Studies and Education Karl Maton, Handel Wright 5.4 2002 Re-Imagining Communities Sara Ahmed, Anne-Marie Fortier 6.3 2003 The New Economy, Creativity and Consumption John Hartley 7.1 2004 Creative Industries and Innovation in China Michael Keane, John Hartley 9.3 2006 The Uses of Richard Hoggart Sue Owen, John Hartley 10.1 2007 A Cultural History of Celebrity Liz Barry 11.3 2008 Caribbean Media Worlds Anna Pertierra, Heather Horst 12.2 2009 Co-Creative Labour Mark Deuze, John Banks 12.5 2009 It’s obvious that special issues have a place in disciplinary innovation – they can draw attention in a timely manner to new problems, neglected regions, or innovative approaches, and thus they advance the field. They are indispensible. But because of online publication, readers are not held to the ‘project’ of a special issue and can pick and choose whatever they want. And because of the peculiarities of research assessment exercises, editing special issues doesn’t count as research output. The incentive to do them is to that extent reduced, and some universities are quite heavy-handed about letting academics ‘waste’ time on activities that don’t produce ‘metrics.’ The special issue is therefore threatened with obsolescence too. Refereeing In many top-rating journals, the human side of refereeing is becoming obsolete. Increasingly this labour-intensive chore is automated and the labour is technologically outsourced from editors and publishers to authors and referees. You have to log on to some website and follow prompts in order to contribute both papers and the assessment of papers; interactions with editors are minimal. At the IJCS the process is still handled by humans – namely, journal administrator Tina Horton and me. We spend a lot of time checking how papers are faring, from trying to find the right referees through to getting the comments and then the author’s revisions completed in time for a paper to be scheduled into an issue. The volume of email correspondence is considerable. We get to know authors and referees. So we maintain a sense of an interactive and conversational community, albeit by correspondence rather than face to face. Doubtless, sooner or later, there will be a depersonalised Text Management System. But in the meantime we cling to the romantic notion that we are involved in refereeing for the sake of the field, for raising the standard of scholarship, for building a globally dispersed virtual college of cultural studies, and for giving everyone – from unfavoured countries and neglected regions to famous professors in old-money universities – the same chance to get their research published. In fact, these are largely delusional ideals, for as everyone knows, refereeing is part of the political economy of publicly-funded research. It’s about academic credentials, tenure and promotion for the individual, and about measurable research metrics for the academic organisation or funding agency (Hartley, "Death"). The IJCS has no choice but to participate: we do what is required to qualify as a ‘double-blind refereed journal’ because that is the only way to maintain repute, and thence the flow of submissions, not to mention subscriptions, without which there would be no journal. As with journals themselves, which proliferate even as the print form becomes obsolete, so refereeing is burgeoning as a practice. It’s almost an industry, even though the currency is not money but time: part gift-economy; part attention-economy; partly the payment of dues to the suzerain funding agencies. But refereeing is becoming obsolete in the sense of gathering an ‘imagined community’ of people one might expect to know personally around a particular enterprise. The process of dispersal and anonymisation of the field is exacerbated by blind refereeing, which we do because we must. This is suited to a scientific domain of objective knowledge, but everyone knows it’s not quite like that in the ‘new humanities’. The agency and identity of the researcher is often a salient fact in the research. The embedded positionality of the author, their reflexiveness about their own context and room-for-manoeuvre, and the radical contextuality of knowledge itself – these are all more or less axiomatic in cultural studies, but they’re not easily served by ‘double-blind’ refereeing. When refereeing is depersonalised to the extent that is now rife (especially in journals owned by international commercial publishers), it is hard to maintain a sense of contextualised productivity in the knowledge domain, much less a ‘common cause’ to which both author and referee wish to contribute. Even though refereeing can still be seen as altruistic, it is in the service of something much more general (‘scholarship’) and much more particular (‘my career’) than the kind of reviewing that wants to share and improve a particular intellectual enterprise. It is this mid-range altruism – something that might once have been identified as a politics of knowledge – that’s becoming obsolete, along with the printed journals that were the banner and rallying point for the cause. If I were to start a new journal (such as cultural-science.org), I would prefer ‘open refereeing’: uploading papers on an open site, subjecting them to peer-review and criticism, and archiving revised versions once they have received enough votes and comments. In other words I’d like to see refereeing shifted from the ‘supply’ or production side of a journal to the ‘demand’ or readership side. But of course, ‘demand’ for ‘blind’ refereeing doesn’t come from readers; it comes from the funding agencies. The Reading Experience Finally, the experience of reading a journal is obsolete. Two aspects of this seem worthy of note. First, reading is ‘out of time’ – it no longer needs to conform to the rhythms of scholarly publication, which are in any case speeding up. Scholarship is no longer seasonal, as it has been since the Middle Ages (with university terms organised around agricultural and ecclesiastical rhythms). Once you have a paper’s DOI number, you can read it any time, 24/7. It is no longer necessary even to wait for publication. With some journals in our field (e.g. Journalism Studies), assuming your Library subscribes, you can access papers as soon as they’re uploaded on the journal’s website, before the published edition is printed. Soon this will be the norm, just as it is for the top science journals, where timely publication, and thereby the ability to claim first discovery, is the basis of intellectual property rights. The IJCS doesn’t (yet) offer this service, but its frequency is speeding up. It was launched in 1998 with three issues a year. It went quarterly in 2001 and remained a quarterly for eight years. It has recently increased to six issues a year. That too causes changes in the reading experience. The excited ripping open of the package is less of a thrill the more often it arrives. Indeed, how many subscribers will admit that sometimes they don’t even open the envelope? Second, reading is ‘out of place’ – you never have to see the journal in which a paper appears, so you can avoid contact with anything that you haven’t already decided to read. This is more significant than might first appear, because it is affecting journalism in general, not just academic journals. As we move from the broadcast to the broadband era, communicative usage is shifting too, from ‘mass’ communication to customisation. This is a mixed blessing. One of the pleasures of old-style newspapers and the TV news was that you’d come across stories you did not expect to find. Indeed, an important attribute of the industrial form of journalism is its success in getting whole populations to read or watch stories about things they aren’t interested in, or things like wars and crises that they’d rather not know about at all. That historic textual achievement is in jeopardy in the broadband era, because ‘the public’ no longer needs to gather around any particular masthead or bulletin to get their news. With Web 2.0 affordances, you can exercise much more choice over what you attend to. This is great from the point of view of maximising individual choice, but sub-optimal in relation to what I’ve called ‘population-gathering’, especially the gathering of communities of interest around ‘tales of the unexpected’ – novelty or anomalies. Obsolete: Collegiality, Trust and Innovation? The individuation of reading choices may stimulate prejudice, because prejudice (literally, ‘pre-judging’) is built in when you decide only to access news feeds about familiar topics, stories or people in which you’re already interested. That sort of thing may encourage narrow-mindedness. It is certainly an impediment to chance discovery, unplanned juxtaposition, unstructured curiosity and thence, perhaps, to innovation itself. This is a worry for citizenship in general, but it is also an issue for academic ‘knowledge professionals,’ in our ever-narrower disciplinary silos. An in-close specialist focus on one’s own area of expertise need no longer be troubled by the concerns of the person in the next office, never mind the next department. Now, we don’t even have to meet on the page. One of the advantages of whole journals, then, is that each issue encourages ‘macro’ as well as ‘micro’ perspectives, and opens reading up to surprises. This willingness to ‘take things on trust’ describes a ‘we’ community – a community of trust. Trust too is obsolete in these days of performance evaluation. We’re assessed by an anonymous system that’s managed by people we’ll never meet. If the ‘population-gathering’ aspects of print journals are indeed obsolete, this may reduce collegiate trust and fellow-feeling, increase individualist competitiveness, and inhibit innovation. In the face of that prospect, I’m going to keep on thinking about covers, running orders, referees and reading until the role of editor is obsolete too. ReferencesHartley, John. "'Cover Narrative': From Nightmare to Reality." International Journal of Cultural Studies 11.2 (2005): 131-137. ———. "Death of the Book?" Symposium of the National Scholarly Communication Forum & Australian Academy of the Humanities, Sydney Maritime Museum, 2005. 26 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.humanities.org.au/Resources/Downloads/NSCF/RoundTables1-17/PDF/Hartley.pdf›. ———. 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