Journal articles on the topic 'Music Folk music Okpe poetry'

The article deals with the pedagogical potential of Ukrainian folk song in terms of music education of students. Folklore has always been and is one of the most powerful means of moral aesthetic education. The authors analyse the song of Ukrainian folklore and highlight the importance of folklore values: historical, philosophical, educational, moral, aesthetic, and creative ones. The main components of teaching potential of Ukrainian folk music is intonation feature, simplicity of melodies and rhythmic structure, expression and richness of melody, harmony and close relationship between poetic and musical texts, deep emotion, authenticity, profound statement thoughts, poetry, clean image, deep highly and true meaning, reflection the history of the people, their thoughts and feelings. Folk ensembels are the most accessible and authentic embodiment of the Ukrainian folk songs. Ukrainian folk music has a great pedagogical value and helps educate a highly moral individual, who would have aesthetic, philosophical and artistic aesthetic qualities; develops interest in folk music, artistic taste and imagination. On the other hand, there is a remarkable arttherapeutic component of Ukrainian folk song.

Kalevalaic runosinging is a Baltic-Finnic tradition of metered oral poetry. In Finland, runo singing and the national epic Kalevala based on this tradition are often seen − especially in public speech − as nationally significant symbols of Finnishness. In this article, I examine how the idea of the Finnishness of traditional runo songs has been constructed in the changing paradigms of studying and performing folk music and oral poetry in Finland across the last hundred years, and how the concept of cultural appropriation relates to this. I will concentrate on early Finnish folk music studies as well as on the contemporary Finnish folk music scene; I tie these fields together by following the circulation of an Ingrian runosong theme called Oi daiafter it became part of archived folklore collections in Finland in 1906.

The Kalevala (1849), the Finnish folk epic, has inspired all types of artists throughout the years. It could be argued that it was only a matter of time before Finnish metal musicians started adapting material from the epic in their music and lyrics. This article presents two case studies of two lyrics. The first is ‘Lemminkäisen laulu’ (‘Lemminkäinen’s Song’) by Kotiteollisuus. This song is about one of the epic’s main heroes, Lemminkäinen, and his unfortunate marriage to Kyllikki. It draws on poems 11‐13 from the Kalevala and on the book Seitsemän veljestä (‘The Seven Brothers’) (1870) by novelist Aleksis Kivi. The second song discussed is ‘Rautaa rinnoista’ (‘Iron from the Breasts’) by Mokoma. The lyrics for this song are inspired by the painting Raudan synty (‘The Origins of Iron’) (1917) by Joseph Alanen. This painting is based on the birth of iron poem from the Kalevala. The interpretation of the lyrics of both songs will show that artists in the same genre have a larger general awareness of other cultural products, including those inspired by the Kalevala and that they use the epic for different purposes. The two case studies will show that adaptation of Finnish folk poetry can be used for various reasons, such as to parodize contemporary society or to voice personal ideas and world-views. Furthermore, the analysis of these lyrics will show that the songs are connected to a sense of Finnishness and the topics and themes of metal music internationally.

AbstractDiscussions of the recitative intervention from the solo baritone in the finale of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony usually focus on how his words might offer a commentary on the discourse of the symphony as understood in instrumental terms. This article seeks to interpret the baritone’s words as a call to song – song in its literal as well as idealized sense, as identified through strophic treatment and folk-like character. Beethoven’s borrowing of material from his own setting of Bürger’s Gegenliebe for his ‘Ode to Joy’ tune is taken as a sign of the composer engaging with Bürger’s advocacy of simple diegetic song, an advocacy that sits provocatively alongside the abstract idealism of Schiller’s An die Freude. Concentrating on the song-like aspects within the finale of the Ninth Symphony in this way might seem to magnify the effect of the silences and disjunctures within the movement. However, Johann Gottfried Herder (the poet and theorist of the lyric) embraced silence as one of the conditions of folk-like song, as Beethoven seems to have understood from his own settings of Herder’s poetry. A comparison between the Ninth Symphony finale and some of Beethoven’s actual settings suggests a new understanding of how the composer uses silence within the symphony. It also points up the radical nature of his balance between abstract and literal renditions of song in this work, a balance that even outstrips the Helen-Gretchen contrast in Goethe’s Faust for its subtlety and pervasiveness.

Abstract In the 1940s the Drama Company of the Slovak National Theatre introduced four poetry productions, which demonstrated the stage potential of the symbiosis of verse and a music-accompanied recitation in an original stage design solution. The single presentation of poetry of Poézia revolúcie a boja [The Poetry of Revolution and Fight, 1945] directed by Ján Jamnický and Pásmo poézie Janka Jesenského [The Show of Poetry by Janko Jesenský, 1946] directed by Jozef Budský were the first independent attempts at staging selected poetry. Besides recitation, they were dominated by the visual sign, powerful music sometimes accompanied by the singing of individuals and a voice band, and distinctive lighting design. Botto’s Smrť Jánošíkova [The Death of Jánošík] and Sládkovič’s Marína (both in 1948) directed by Jozef Budský displayed all features of synthetic theatre, combining recitation, voice band singing, scenic and visual solutions, metaphor, originally composed music inspired by the folk song, dance, film screening, and meaningful lighting. Jozef Budský indirectly built on Czech theatre, particularly on E. F. Burian. Both masterpieces by the authors of Štúr’s generation (Ján Botto, Andrej Sládkovič) aroused the interest of the expert public and the audience. It triggered arguments about excessive directorial intervention and insufficient ideological character, especially in the theatre form of Marína.

Leaders of the Harlem Renaissance – intellectuals such as Jessie Faucet, Alain Locke, James Weldon Johnson and W.E.B. DuBois – hoped to gain respect for African Americans through participation in emblems of high culture such as poetry, novels, serious plays, and the highest of all classical music genres: the symphony.1 They encouraged artists to mine folk themes for use in new, elevating works, transforming ‘indigenous’ materials into uplifting examples of high cultural resonance. Artists themselves, however, were ambivalent about privileging ‘high’ art, and especially so when making and writing about music. Indeed, as Samuel Floyd has argued, the most vibrant music to come out of the Harlem Renaissance took the form of blues, boogie woogie, and hot jazz, found in venues such as clubs, juke joints, rent parties, and stage shows (Floyd 1990, pp. 5–6).

Abstract In the diverse space of contemporary music, the fascinating and controversial personality of the Welsh composer Karl Jenkins, which is surprising from several perspectives, stands out. Open to assimilating and processing music from various sources (academic, liturgical, folk, entertainment, oriental, exotic), the all-round musician Karl Jenkins impresses the public with unexpected artistic choices, giving up the hypostasis of instrumentalist of the jazz-rock band Nucleus and of the group Softmachine in favour of the postmodern creator he has become today, synthetizing trends from musical compositions of the last decades of the 20th century. Once with the return to the functional system, either through minimalism or through neo-romanticism, the artist has successfully covered a potential sonority path of modern opposites, also evoking references to creative models of the past. We are referring to the musical valorizing of the sacred in a synthetic vision between tradition and innovation, in the works included in the Adiemus cycle, in the opus choir Missa for Peace and, more particularly, in the Requiem (2005), a significant score in the contemporaneity. The manner in which the composer, while resorting to a musical genre originating from the Roman Catholic cult and drawing on the liturgical text of the Mass for the dead, inserted Japanese poetry, written following the structure of haiku, belonging to representative authors - Gozan Koshigaya, Issho Kosughi, Hokusai Katsushika, Kaga-no-Chiyo, is highly surprising. This study aims to highlight the interweaving imagined by Karl Jenkins between the two cultures as well as to conduct a semantic analysis of an opus in which the relationships between music and words entail a highly emotional response.

El objetivo de este trabajo es analizar la presencia de la poesía en el espacio público gallego en la actualidad. Para ello, se estudian los discursos que han combinado poesía, oralidad y música en las últimas cuatro décadas. Con la intención de investigar los cambios sufridos por los modelos convencionales del recital, la canción de autor o el uso de textos poéticos en la música folk, son analizadas tres propuestas musicales contemporáneas: el proyecto interdisciplinar Rosalía 21, el programa de intervención política de Labregos do tempo dos sputniks y, finalmente, la iniciativa del grupo Fanny + Alexander, que vincula pop electrónico y letras contemporáneas. Palabras clave: poesía gallega, espacio público gallego, normalización cultural, intermedialidad. The paper aims to analyze the presence of poetry in the Galician public sphere nowadays. Therefore, discourses combining poetry, orality, and music over the last four decades are covered here. In order to study changes in conventional recital and singer-songwriting models, as well as the use of poetic texts in traditional music, the paper analyzes three contemporary musical proposals: the interdisciplinary project Rosalía 21, the political action program of Labregos do tempo dos sputniks and, finally, the work of the group Fanny + Alexander, that links electronic pop and contemporary lyrics. Keywords: Galician poetry, Galician public sphere, cultural normalization, intermediality.

Abstract The article presents the greatest Polish ethnographer, who was also a professionally educated musician. He concentrated his activities on the oral musical culture, still vital in the 19th century but liable to changes. Culture studies by Kolberg concerned mainly rural communities, statistically dominating in those times. He planned to edit 60 volumes geographically covering the first Polish State from before 1772; he managed to print 33 of them in his lifetime and prepare many further anthologies for editing. Up till now, the editorial work is still in progress. The already edited 80 volumes show us an old social culture, folk ceremonies, musical repertoire including ritual singing, songs and instrumental pieces. Kolberg’s printed monument is a source of reflection on the past and can inspire social studies, ethnomusicological research as well as musical ensembles performing traditional ethnic music of peasant origin. The size of Kolberg’s documentation means that a special Institute of Oskar Kolberg had to be established to continue editorial and research work. In spite of his positivistic and empirical attitude, Kolberg still kept a romantic faith in the significance of folk songs and singing for the preservation of national components in cultural consciousness. Simultaneously, he developed a model for structural analysis of popular/folk culture and intended to build a cultural atlas of the country, building on the work of his father, professor of the University of Warsaw, an outstanding cartographer. But the core of Kolberg’s programme, its “planetary centre”, was always music. It was music that gave him the stimulus to interpret the culture of Central-Eastern Europe. To preserve regional diversity, he wrote down more than 20 thousand vocal melodies, song texts and instrumental pieces, paying special attention to variants and ornamentation. For the contemporary composer, Kolberg’s volumes are a useful musical reader. These huge anthologies of elementary but highly integrated musical concepts demonstrate the collective creativity and a fascinating prefiguration of mass culture, still open to symbols and to poetry. Kolberg’s music transcriptions, catching music in the process of performance, should not be treated as unchangeable patterns for copying, but rather as a source that helps understand creativity in traditional oral culture.

The Turkish world's opera history gave its first example in 1908 with the opera "Leyli and Majnun" by Azerbaijani composer Üzeyir Hacıbeyli. According to many sources, "Leyli and Majnun" is described as the first opera of the Turkish world and the Islamic world, and the east. The most important feature of this opera is the masterful synthesis of classical western music and folk music. The opera, which was composed for the first time in this way, influenced the east with its staging and ensured that the art of opera was adopted by the public. The great composer Uzeyir Hajibeyli was born in the city of Shusha in Azerbaijan, which was developed in the field of literature and music and called the "natural conservatory." He developed his existing talent here and built it on solid foundations. He was interested in music and literature, wrote many books, articles, and was a writer for newspapers. The subject of the opera Leyli and Majnun is taken from Fuzuli's "Leyli and Majnun" poetry of the same name. At the age of 13, the composer decided to write this opera, influenced by the theater show "At the tomb of Majnun Leyli'' which he watched in Shusha, his home city. He started working on opera in 1907 when he was only 22 years old. By bringing a different perspective to opera, he used the tonal structure of western music with 'mugham,' also known as Azerbaijani folk music. This type of opera is also called "Mugam Opera.'' The opera, which was composed and performed despite the conditions of the period, preserved its originality by combining two cultures and was performed many times in other countries. Operas from the Turkish world are rarely staged in our country, and there is a need for such an article because the opera "Leyli and Majnun" has not been staged much in Turkey and there are very few theses, articles, and books about it. In this study; Different titles have been created such as the history of Azerbaijan opera, the life of Uzeyir Hajibeyli, the composer's process of creating the opera, and the content of the opera Leyli and Majnun. Keywords: Leyli and Majnun, Uzeyir Hajibeyli, Turkish World, Opera

In 2012, Bruce Springsteen delivered the keynote address at the South By Southwest Music Conference and Festival. His task was daunting: reconnect authenticity to a traditional approach to creating art. By bringing together ideas on authenticity, creativity, and culture, Springsteen’s talk joins a lineage of essays that defend poetry, creativity, and culture, including famous works by William Wordsworth and T.S. Eliot. In this article, I connect Springsteen’s ideas to the “folk process,” which leads to considering Wordsworth’s ideas on the voice of the common citizen and Eliot’s ideas on historical tradition. In the end, I consider Springsteen’s legacy as cultural ambassador for the arts.

В статье представлено рукописное наследие Николая Феопемптовича Соловьёва (1846–1916), композитора, профессора Санкт-Петербургской консерватории, включающее 162 записи народных песен и инструментальных мелодий. До настоящего времени считалось, что поэтические тексты и напевы русских народных песен (117 образцов) в двух записных книжках из фондов Научно-исследовательского отдела рукописей Научной музыкальной библиотеки (НИОР НМБ) Санкт-Петербургской государственной консерватории имени Н. А. Римского-Корсакова относятся к автографам известного композитора А. Н. Серова. В статье находит подтверждение тот факт, что данные записные книжки принадлежат Н. Ф. Соловьёву. Публикация четырех песен из рукописи в издании П. В. Шейна «Великорус в своих песнях, обрядах, обычаях, верованиях, сказках, легендах и т. п.» свидетельствует, что песни были записаны Соловьёвым в Санкт-Петербурге от уроженки села Байдики Тульской губернии крестьянки Марьи Гавриловны Бабановой (Бабковой) в 1860-е годы. Изучение третьей записной книжки из фондов Кабинета рукописей Российского института истории искусств позволило сделать вывод о том, что содержащиеся в ней нотации песен и наигрышей (37 мелодий) были сделаны Соловьёвым в августе 1873 года во время специальной поездки по Полтавской губернии с целью сбора материалов для оперы «Кузнец Вакула». Требует дальнейшего исследования беловая рукопись с поэтическими текстами и напевами восьми русских песен, которая хранится в НИОР НМБ среди материалов, принадлежащих Н. Ф. Соловьёву, поскольку почерк не обнаруживает сходства с автографами композитора. The handwritten legacy of Nikolay Feopemptovich Solovyov (1846–1916), composer, professor of the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, includes 162 recordings of folk songs and instrumental melodies. To date, it was believed that the poetry lyrics and melodies of Russian folk songs (117 samples) in two notebooks of the Research Department of Manuscripts of the Scientific Music Library of the Saint Petersburg Rimsky-Korsakov State Conservatory belong to autographs of the famous Russian composer Alexander Serov. The article provides evidence of ownership of this collection by Nikolay Solovyov. One confirmation is the publication of four songs from the manuscript (including two with melodies) in Pavel Schein’s edition of “Velikorus in his songs, rites, customs, beliefs, fairy tales, legends, etc.” It turns out that the songs were recorded by Nikolay Solovyov in St. Petersburg from peasant Marya Gavrilovna Babanova (Babkova) from the village of Baidiki, Tula Province. Study of the third notebook from the funds of the Manuscript Cabinet of the Russian Institute of Art History concluded that its notation of songs and instrumental music (37 melodies) were made by Nikolay Solovyov in August 1873 during a special trip to Poltava Province to collect materials for the opera “Kuznets Vakula”. Another manuscript with poetry texts and melodies of eight Russian songs, which is stored in Research Department of Manuscripts of the Scientific Music Library among materials belonging to Nikolay Solovyov, requires further research, because the handwriting does not detect similarities to the composer’s autographs.

AbstractThe second half of the 1990s saw the emergence of a new, distinctive type of Afghan poetry, the Taliban tarana performed in Pashto by one or more vocalists without instrumental accompaniment and characterised by the melodic modes of local folk music. Over the last fifteen years the tarana chants have gained wide distribution within Afghanistan and Pashto speaking parts of Pakistan, as well as among the Pashtun diaspora. Considering their unambiguous ideological status and their immense popularity within the country of origin they can be regarded as the signature tune of the Afghan insurgency. The present article, which focuses on the literary roots of these songs, attempts to demonstrate that their authors are following century old patterns of Pashto oral and written poetry while adopting traditional material to the needs and the milieu of contemporary Afghan society. The publication is supplemented by a transcription and English translation of five tarana chants.

This article has a nature of a record. It was inspired by the 200th anniversary of the birth of Stanisław Moniuszko, and its main goal is to reference selected celebratory poems created in the 19th century in order to commemorate the composer. The author of this article indicated how different authors interpreted the ideological expressions of Moniuszko’s music, its sources, and the functions it fulfilled. She also discussed the directions of the evolution regarding how the composer was depicted in poetry, as he was initially perceived as a “native busker”, a Vilnius lyrnik, and a compatriot, and he gradually gained the rank of a folk minstrel and a prophet able to reproduce the “lyrical genius of the nation”.

Background. Choral work of American composers of the second half of the XX century is characterized by new qualities that have appeared because of not only musical but also non-musical factors generated by the system of cultural, historical and social conditions. Despite of a serious amount of scientific literature on the history of American music, the choral layer of American music remains partially unexplored, especially, in Ukrainian musical science, that bespeaks the science and practical novelty of the research results. The purpose of this study is to discover and to analyze the peculiarities of the historical formation and identity of American choral art of the second half of the twentieth century using the the works of famous American artists as examples. The research methodology is based on theoretical, historical and analytical methods, generalization and specification. Results. The general picture of the development of American composers’ practice in the genre of choral music is characterized by genre and style diversity. In our research we present portraits of iconic figures of American choral music in the period under consideration. So, the choral works of William Dawson (1899–1990), one of the most famous African-American composers, are characterized by the richness of the choral texture, intense sonority and demonstration of his great understanding of the vocal potential of the choir. Dawson was remembered, especially, for the numerous arrangements of spirituals, which do not lose their popularity. Aaron Copland (1899–1990), which was called “the Dean of American Composers”, was one of the founder of American music “classical” style, whose name associated with the America image in music. Despite the fact that the composer tends to atonalism, impressionism, jazz, constantly uses in his choral opuses sharp dissonant sounds and timbre contrasts, his choral works associated with folk traditions, written in a style that the composer himself called “vernacular”, which is characterized by a clearer and more melodic language. Among Copland’s famous choral works are “At The River”, “Four Motets”, “In the Beginning”, “Lark”, “The Promise of Living”; “Stomp Your Foot” (from “The Tender Land”), “Simple Gifts”, “Zion’s Walls” and others. Dominick Argento’s (1927–2019) style is close to the style of an Italian composer G. C. Menotti. Argento’s musical style, first of all, distinguishes the dominance of melody, so he is a leading composer in the genre of lyrical opera. Argento’s choral works are distinguished by a variety of performers’ stuff: from a cappella choral pieces – “A Nation of Cowslips”, “Easter Day” for mixed choir – to large-scale works accompanied by various instruments: “Apollo in Cambridge”, “Odi et Amo”, “Jonah and the Whale”, “Peter Quince at the Clavier”, “Te Deum”, “Tria Carmina Paschalia”, “Walden Pond”. For the choir and percussion, Argento created “Odi et Amo” (“I Hate and I Love”), 1981, based on the texts of the ancient Roman poet Catullus, which testifies to the sophistication of the composer’s literary taste and his skill in reproducing complex psychological states. The most famous from Argento’s spiritual compositions is “Te Deum” (1988), where the Latin text is combined with medieval English folk poetry, was recorded and nominated for a Grammy Award. Among the works of Samuel Barber’s (1910–1981) vocal and choral music were dominating. His cantata “Prayers of Kierkegaard”, based on the lyrics of four prayers by this Danish philosopher and theologian, for solo soprano, mixed choir and symphony orchestra is an example of an eclectic trend. Chapter I “Thou Who art unchangeable” traces the imitation of a traditional Gregorian male choral singing a cappella. Chapter II “Lord Jesus Christ, Who suffered all lifelong” for solo soprano accompanied by oboe solo is an example of minimalism. Chapter III “Father in Heaven, well we know that it is Thou” reflects the traditions of Russian choral writing. William Schumann (1910–1992) stands among the most honorable and prominent American composers. In 1943, he received the first Pulitzer Prize for Music for Cantata No 2 “A Free Song”, based on lyrics from the poems by Walt Whitman. In his choral works, Schumann emphasized the lyrics of American poetry. Norman Luboff (1917–1987), the founder and conductor of one of the leading American choirs in the 1950–1970s, is one of the great American musicians who dared to dedicate most of their lives to the popular media cultures of the time. Holiday albums of Christmas Songs with the Norman Luboff Choir have been bestselling for many years. In 1961, Norman Luboff Choir received the Grammy Award for Best Performance by a Chorus. Luboff’s productive work on folk song arrangements, which helped to preserve these popular melodies from generation to generation, is considered to be his main heritage. The choral work by Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990) – a great musician – composer, pianist, brilliant conductor – is represented by such works as “Chichester Psalms”, “Hashkiveinu”, “Kaddish” Symphony No 3)”,”The Lark (French & Latin Choruses)”, “Make Our Garden Grow (from Candide)”, “Mass”. “Chichester Psalms”, where the choir sings lyrics in Hebrew, became Bernstein’s most famous choral work and one of the most successfully performed choral masterpieces in America. An equally popular composition by Bernstein is “Mass: A Theater Piece for Singers, Players, and Dancers”, which was dedicated to the memory of John F. Kennedy, the stage drama written in the style of a musical about American youth in searching of the Lord. More than 200 singers, actors, dancers, musicians of two orchestras, three choirs are involved in the performance of “Mass”: a four-part mixed “street” choir, a four-part mixed academic choir and a two-part boys’ choir. The eclecticism of the music in the “Mass” shows the versatility of the composer’s work. The composer skillfully mixes Latin texts with English poetry, Broadway musical with rock, jazz and avant-garde music. Choral cycles by Conrad Susa (1935–2013), whose entire creative life was focused on vocal and dramatic music, are written along a story line or related thematically. Bright examples of his work are “Landscapes and Silly Songs” and “Hymns for the Amusement of Children”; the last cycle is an fascinating staging of Christopher Smart’s poetry (the18 century). The composer’s music is based on a synthesis of tonal basis, baroque counterpoint, polyphony and many modern techniques and idioms drawn from popular music. The cycle “Songs of Innocence and of Experience”, created by a composer and a pianist William Bolcom (b. 1938) on the similar-titled poems by W. Blake, represents musical styles from romantic to modern, from country to rock. More than 200 vocalists take part in the performance of this work, in academic choruses (mixed, children’s choirs) and as soloists; as well as country, rock and folk singers, and the orchestral musicians. This composition successfully synthesizes an impressive range of musical styles: reggae, classical music, western, rock, opera and other styles. Morten Lauridsen (b. 1943) was named “American Choral Master” by the National Endowment for the Arts (2006). The musical language of Lauridsen’s compositions is very diverse: in his Latin sacred works, such as “Lux Aeterna” and “Motets”, he often refers to Gregorian chant, polyphonic techniques of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, and mixes them with modern sound. Lauridsen’s “Lux Aeterna” is a striking example of the organic synthesis of the old and the new traditions, or more precisely, the presentation of the old in a new way. At the same time, his other compositions, such as “Madrigali” and “Cuatro Canciones”, are chromatic or atonal, addressing us to the technique of the Renaissance and the style of postmodernism. Conclusions. Analysis of the choral work of American composers proves the idea of moving the meaningful centers of professional choral music, the gradual disappearance of the contrast, which had previously existed between consumer audiences, the convergence of positions of “third direction” music and professional choral music. In the context of globalization of society and media culture, genre and stylistic content, spiritual meanings of choral works gradually tend to acquire new features such as interaction of ancient and modern musical systems, traditional and new, modified folklore and pop. There is a tendency to use pop instruments or some stylistic components of jazz, such as rhythm and intonation formula, in choral compositions. Innovative processes, metamorphosis and transformations in modern American choral music reveal its integration specificity, which is defined by meta-language, which is formed basing on interaction and dialogue of different types of thinking and musical systems, expansion of the musical sound environment, enrichment of acoustic possibilities of choral music, globalization intentions. Thus, the actualization of new cultural dominants and the synthesis of various stylistic origins determine the specificity of American choral music.

The article offers an analysis of the verbal image of “love” in the poetry of Lina Kostenko, traces its lexical-associative and functional-stylistic development. Cognitive-textual analysis shows that the individual linguosophy of the image of “love” in Lina Kostenko’s poetry harmoniously combines tradition and innovation. In particular, there is a continuation of the tradition of sublime-romantic description of the feeling of love, its sacralization. The harmonization of human feelings and the state of nature characteristic of Ukrainian folk poetics, which is manifested in numerous natural-morphological metaphors, is also stated. These metaphors cover a wide range of nominative and verb images that are thematically related to plants. A typical models of metaphorization of the feeling of love – its understanding in terms of conceptospheres “fire”, “element”, “music”. Each of these models is presented from the point of view of Lina Kostenko’s individual author’s vision. The formulas for expressing the feeling of feeling “I love you”, “I think of you” are also textually productive in L. Kostenko’s poetry. Their content is often specified, express the circumstances of the mode of action, time. The affinity of L. Kostenko’s language with the vernacular is evidenced by phraseologized descriptions of love. A number of metaphors by L. Kostenko express the complexity of negative emotional phenomena and states related to love, such as “separation”, “alienation”, “pain”, “anxiety”. The most representative for L. Kostenko’s poetry positively marked lexical-associative connections of the concept of “love” include “love – a kiss” and “love – a dream”.

The article deals with the consideration of lexical and stylistic features of poems for children of the modern writer O. Mamchych. The study contains a selective analysis of the poetry of the writer, which reveals the peculiarities of modeling the poetry of different genres (in the form of small folklore genres and contemporary lyrics), the use of a mix of traditional and contemporary images, allusions to the works of oral folk art and works of classical literature for children. The article covers the plot, thematic and ideological content of poetry. The author analyzes the peculiarities of the sound organization of poetic speech by O. Mamchych, the linguistic and stylistic instruments of the artist. The writer finds the right rhymes, builds the original soundtrack of the poem using the play of sounds. Most of the writer's works are full of alliteration, sensations, anaphors and epiphora. Such verbal music fascinates the reader. The lexical means of expressing the poetry language of O. Mamchych reflect the moods of the modern world, modern Ukraine and the child of the future. The writer uses colloquial vocabulary, novelties and historicisms in her composition. The poem «Kozak» perfectly illustrates O. Mamchych's ability to use historicism and colloquial vocabulary. The author basing on the traditions and history of the Ukrainian people builds a lively story about a little boy, a Cossack, who fights with foreigners. The linguistic features of the poetry of the writer reveal her artistic skill. Bright epithets, metaphors, comparisons convey all the beauty of the poetic word of Olesya Mamchych to the reader. The artistic word of the writer is to move the reader, to influence on his feelings, to encourage him to be kinder, to study the history and culture of the Ukrainian people, and to keep up with the times. The work of O. Mamchych is constantly in harmony with the past and the present. It relies on traditional artistic images to create new ones. The writer opens familiar images in a new way in many compositions. The master of the poetic word builds an invisible bridge of understanding between the reader and the author by the allusions to the works of oral folk art and works of classical literature for children. The article gives the confirmation that O. Mamchych's poetry is not only aesthetic, but also linguo-didactic, because it contributes to the linguistic formation (lexical, phonetic and grammatical) and speech competences (artistic speech, cognitive speech, emotional) of a child. The research gives an opportunity to understand the model of the O. Mamchych world, to find out the basic mechanisms of the 21st century poetry image formation for preschool children.

The article examines the functional and stylistic features of the linguocultureme of “song” in the idiolect of Lesia Ukrainka. It is emphasized that in the analyzed poetic discourse the word “song” is a key, stylistically marked component, which testifies to the relevance of semantics in the field of Ukrainian song and music culture. The branched semantic structure of the keyword in the language of various genres of poetic works of the writer, which consists of common and contextually determined lexical-semantic variants, is traced. The specificity of the symbolic meanings of the keyword “song” is substantiated, the basis for which are often folk poetic sources. Lexical-thematic lines with a dominant “song” are determined, which provide semantic coherence of poems in the vertical context of Lesia Ukrainka’s language creation. Among the main representatives of the textual integrity of the studied poetic and dramatic works such semantic-thematic oppositions and associative convergences as: “word” – “music” are actualized; “will” – “bondage”; “native land” – “foreign land”; “word”, “poetry”, “creativity”; “song”, “thought”; “brotherhood”, “equality”, “will”; “optimism”, “hope”; “song”, “dream”, “fantasy”, “dream”, etc. The semantic-associative field is structured and described, the center of which is the token “song” and derivations related to it. Linguocultureme «song» is analyzed as one of the key tectocentric components of the linguocognitive space of language creation of Lesia Ukrainka, which reflects the basic principles of organization of the national linguistic and cultural universe in general and its verbal and musical sphere in particular.

The paper examines the representation of Burns’s poetical oeuvre in Ukrainian translations by Mykola Lukash (1919–1988) and Vasyl Mysyk (1907–1983), who established the Ukrainian canon of Robert Burns. Their translations are included in school textbooks, radio broadcasts and set to music. These translations confirmed a paradox of co-existence of two equally successful, but quite different interpretations of Burns made through the prism of translators’ ideology, personality, poetic motivations and other constraints. Mysyk’s ambition was to show real Burns in all the variety of his works. He adopted a strategy of a literary studies scholar who paid scrupulous attention to textual detail, be it biographical, historical or figurative. All his translator’s decisions were subdued to his wish for utmost proximity to the original text. In a similar vein, the selection of texts for translation was guided by his desire to introduce Burns’s works into Ukrainian literary context in their integrity and variety, rather than by his personal taste. For Lukash, on the contrary, Burns was not related to a comprehensive translation project. He was one of his favorite poets, and these were Burns’s songs that appealed to Lukash most. Conceptually as well as stylistically Lukash’s translations of Burns are folklore-oriented and folklore inspired. In this way, the translator successfully reproduced the dominant features of Burns’s poetics by emphasizing its folk spirit. On the other hand, Ukrainian folklore poetics employed in Lukash’s translations proved to be a convenient tool to manipulate the text governed by translator’s ideology. Through the prism of folklore style Lukash managed to convey implied political messages to fuel resistance and defiance, which suggests a form of translator’s activism.

Petar Konjovic (Curug, May 5, 1883 - Belgrade, October 1, 1970) stands out among Serbian composers as an author of instrumental and vocal compositions. Studies at the Prague Conservatory (1904-1906) acquainted Konjovic with Czech music, Wagner's opus, and the Russian national-romantic school, which contributed to the evolution of his talent for both music and stage, enabling him to express his ideas more explicitly in operatic works. It was in the Prague that the second opera - Prince of Zeta - was conceived, with new musical vividness and dramatic appeal (first version composed 1906-1926, the second and final 1929-1939), followed by Kostana (1928), Peasants (1951) and Fatherland (1960). Konjovic's mature operas are characterized by his masterful handling of form, both in close-ups and in detail, as well as his deeply individual assimilation of musical folklore into his work. The Prince of Zeta is not to be understood as a folk opera, but some main themes are directly derived from folk music, precisely from the Montenegrin folk songs quoted in the Mokranjac's Ninth Garland and treated in Konjovic's post-romantic, almost expressionistic way, interwoven with some Italianate leitmotifs, so as to present the opera's two worlds, Montenegrin and Venetian. In the process of forming Konjovic's operatic style, with vocal parts based mainly on the principle of declamation, the opera Prince of Zeta (first performed in Belgrade, 1929, conducted by Lovro von Matacic) proved to be a work of great impact. Hardly anyone grasped then the wide sweep of inspiration which allowed the composer to set and to solve several important problems connected with music drama, essential also in his subsequent stage works. First of all, Konjovic had to handle in his own way the verbal drama the prototype of his opera, Maxim Crnojevic by the Serbian poet Laza Kostic (1841-1910). Permission came from the playwright in the first decade of the 1900, Prince of Zeta being partly set musically, but from then on with new interventions in the poet's text. Being a highly skilled writer, poet musicologist and essayist (he wrote four books and a great number of articles on music and the theatre, and translated opera librettos of Wagner and Moussorgsky), Konjovic felt free to introduce some daring alterations to the literary works he used for his music dramas. So it was with the play Maxim Crnojevic, premiered in Novi Sad in 1870 (printed in the same place in 1846 and 1866). On the other hand, the young poet Kostic (he was in his early twenties when he wrote Maxim Crnojevic) had the prototype for his play in the folkpoem The Marriage of Maxim Crnojevic, turning a naturalistic folk-story into a Hellenic-Shakespearian drama of friendship and love, full of chivalrous deeds and emotions. The once handsome Maxim, his face ruined by heavy disease, can no longer make his marriage with the doge's daughter Angelica (with whom he was already acquainted). The nobles of Montenegro particularly Ivo Crnojevic, who in the meanwhile, proud of his son, boasted in Venice, conspire a doublecrossing plot (with another man, Milos resembling Maxim as bridegroom) which works in the folk-poem, in some ways in drama, but not in the opera, with the story changed by Konjovic. The difference between drama and folk poetry is essential: in Montenegro Maxim murders Milos for the doge's daughter's dowry, on their way back. In the play, too, the tragic event takes place in Montenegro: on the way home Maxim kills Milos, thinking Milos is going to keep the beautiful Angelica for himself (the agreement was that he will hand over the bride to Maxim immediately after the wedding in Venice), then commits suicide realizing his fatal mistake. The girl, deeply disappointed leaves Montenegro. In the opera Maxim reveals the truth to Angelica in Venice, before she is to be wedded with Milos, and stabs himself. She chooses death also, drinking poison - a dramatically and musically very capturing finale in the style of Romeo and Juliet! In some recently performed versions of the opera (1989) the director (Dejan Miladinovic) and conductor (Oskar Danon) returned to the playwright's original denouement, avoiding the Shakespearian end of Konjovic (although in the spirit of Kostic who was also appreciated as a skillful translator of Shakespeare into Serbian language). In the opera Prince of Zeta Konjovic focuses on Ivo Crnojevic, making his role dominant to that of Maxim. The unhappy father, the tragic Hellenic figure, is with his son Maxim the main historical personality in both opera and drama. Zeta forms part of present-day Montenegro but was independent for a short period, then came under Byzantium, and eventually Rashka-Serbia. After the fall of last remnants of the Serbian vassal state in 1439, Zeta was partly independent protected by Venetians under the ruler Ivo Crnojevic, before the Turks grasped Montenegro. Serbian drama, which is usually trochaic, took an iambic course in Kostic's play. The composer preserved the poet's iambs, following the musically accented flexions of spoken language, which remains the main feature of his style. The impressive vocal parts, especially those of Ivo Crnojevic, starting from the Prologue and the first act, are supported by the dynamic and highly symphonized orchestra. For effective choral music the monks' ensemble in the second act (in the final version) and the dramatic Venetian carnival scene with the stylized Montenegrin folk-dances should be noted in both versions. With Prince of Zeta the author definitely made a distinguished name as a composer in Serbian culture, with a strong influence on younger generations of Serbian musicians.

Opera art, which is a cultural symbol and life memory of a nation and a region, is the cultural root of people’s homesickness, which combines various artistic elements such as excellent music, dance and poetry of the Chinese nation. Witchcraft custom, which has appeared since the primitive human period, is a series of activities made by human beings to try to explain some phenomena in daily life, and to predict, influence and control the development of implementation objects with the help of illusory supernatural forces. Witches and artists have the same line of thinking-similar social identity, state in action and functions. Get the wizard thinking characteristics of the artist, and how the artist, a stealth wizard, makes the works show the same effect as witchcraft ceremony. From the perspective of big data, this paper analyzes the protection and inheritance of opera art in Linchuan area based on the effectiveness of witchcraft elements, and examines the limitations of traditional means to protect and develop opera art, aiming at protecting and inheriting the inherent folk culture of the Chinese nation.

During ten years, since Latgalian popular music has returned to the mainstream Latvian music stage, 44 Latgalian music albums have been released. The lyrics of these songs are written by musicians, Latgalian and Latvian poets and as a result of teamwork of poets and music authors. The subject of the present research is represented by cultural signs in the song texts of Latgalian bands; the research object is song lyrics of Latgalian bands. Sources selected for the research are the song texts of Latgalian bands and performers: "Borowa MC", "Bez PVN", "Dabasu Durovys", "Green Novice", Laura Bicāne, "Kapļi". Some musicians and bands use Latvian and Latgalian folk songs in their music, yet they are not discussed in the present research. Other musicians use works of Latgalian poets, which are mentioned here only for comparison. Therefore, the key focus is on texts written by musicians themselves, collected from the released music album brochures and from correspondence with band members. The texts of schlager music bands are not examined here either, as they are worth making a separate research.It must be admitted that cultural signs in the examined texts do not occur particularly often, although the feature of the post-modernist culture is related to reassessment and mock of previous culture, the song lyrics are still rather romantic, traditional and compliant with the requirements of mass culture. The use of cultural signs is not characteristic of bands "Green Novice", "Bez PVN" and performer Laura Bicāne, therefore, the song texts of bands "Borowa MC", "Dabasu Durovys" and "Kapļi" are analysed the most. The research has been carried out based on the method of structural semiotics (J. Lotmans, R. Veidemane) by analysing cultural signs found in the selected texts.The signs related to cultural history are rather traditional: Latgale, Latgalians, rarely, some specific natural or geographical objects relevant to cultural historical events or associated exactly with the Latgale region. However, the search for territorial and ethnic identity and its construction for oneself and others (mostly, neighbours of other regions) is one of the main questions in the lyrics. As the mentioned bands "Borowa Mc", "Dabasu Durovys" and "Bez PVN" play popular, mass-oriented music, their texts are mostly intended for broad public, therefore, the first features that characterize the song lyrics of Latgalian bands are the cultivation and preservation of stereotypes. These stereotypes are divided into two groups:1) favourable, emotionally uplifting, sometimes even rousing self-confidence; 2) critical, prejudiced, causing negative atmosphere and emotions.The poetical rock band "Kapļi", which belongs to an alternative direction of Latgalian music and has ironic, sarcastic texts, sing about cultural signs related to Latgale in a completely different way. Their lyrics show a different view of things that are holy, inviolable, and indisputable to many Latgalians.Regarding cultural signs representing the folkloristic level, it must be noted that in this research ‘folkloristic’ is meant in the broadest sense of this word (not only folk compositions, but also events, objects, things that have become a part of folklore over time, often becoming subjects of literary tales), for instance, Pinocchio, the main character combines several characters: a fool, a body-builder, and even a lyrical ego seeking for its own identity. All character appearances, which are reflected in other songs about the modern hero, suggest that the character avoids activity or makes the new world unstable by drawing, making it from plasticine, using the phone, and consequently, creates a virtual world which is modern and transitory. "Dabasu Durovys" reveals their life philosophy and search for meaning with the help of historical cultural signs, for instance, the river Rubicon, known from ancient times, meaning the breaking of links to the past and not returning to previous situation, or the royal court of the Sun King, that symbolizes absolute monarchy, or Napoleon, etc.“Little man” and his daily life are related to another group of cultural signs. Depiction of daily life in poetry shows on the one hand that the author values the place and time of his life; on the other hand it demonstrates an artistic approach to everyday reality. These texts usually convey tragically ironical feeling and show modern typical dramas right beside us. Such characters most frequently appear in the texts of the bands "Kapļi" and "Dabasu Durovys".Even though cultural signs do not appear in the texts of Latgalian bands frequently, they are diverse. Cultural historical signs, which appear in patriotic and ironic lyrics, reveal authors’ homeland Latgale and Latgalians with their typical positive and negative stereotypes. Cultural signs related to Latvia and Europe highlight ironically sharp reality of emigration and infrequent visits to Latvia and are bound to several historical periods, which are mostly related to domestic, rarely social political situations.

Prolonged coexistence within a single state, i.e. the Commonwealth of Poland, laid the foundations for the emergence of common cultural and linguistic features along the Ukrainian-Polish borderlands. The article substantiates the peculiarities of the choice of terminology in defining the concepts of “border studies”. Due to the Ukrainian-Polish language contacts, a southern Polish peripheral dialect arose, which was spread over a large territory of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and formed the literary Polish language with the ethnic Polish dialects, since the effects of borrowing are recorded in the phonetic and morphological language, as well as stimulating of the internal tendencies of language development. During the period of increased polonization, we observe the spread of Ukrainian lexical elements in Polish poetry from the middle of the 16th century, while in the 17th century we can see not only the integration of Ukrainianisms into Polish poetry, but even the Ukrainian language in Polish literature can be singled out. Despite the privileged position and dominance of the Polish culture, a unique situation emerged in the context of Ukrainian-Polish contacts along the borderlands when the subordinated Ukrainian folk culture became an ideological and thematically dominant aspect of Polish fiction, painting and music. Of particular interest is the creativity of Polish poets of the “Ukrainian School”, for whom the traditions of the Ukrainian people were native, so these authors created their national literature from local language material and played a significant role in the spread of Ukrainian elements in Polish literary language.

<em>Langston Hughes is an important poet over the Harlem Renaissance who has contributed to the enhancement of the thematic profundity of his poetry in the association of African-American culture rooted in its literature, music, theater, art, and politics with his poetic production. Inspired by the original newness of his great poems, many foreign and Chinese scholars and critics have not only discussed much about his indispensable role in promoting dark brothers’ folk culture on the basis of their valuable explorations among his works but also made a mention of dark brothers’ lower social position as well as their unfair treatment in American society that has been dominated by their counterparts’ culture through the careful combination of his poems with the unbearable experience they have been suffering from. What they haven’t focused on in their respective studies of dark brothers’ discriminated culture is a sound and detailed discussion about the dark brothers’ empirical bitterness in the whole textual spaces of one of their academic essays or monographs in correspondence to one of his poems. To reduce the academic limitations in this respect, this essay will take one of his poems, I, Too, Sing America, as an analytical example to give a culturalist interpretation of the dark brothers’ sound bitterness.</em>

This article examines the cycle by Isaac Babel &ldquo;Red Cavalry in the context of literary trends of the 1920s. I. Babel avoided various literary organizations and loud manifestos; therefore, his role within the post-revolutionary literary system remains somewhat isolated: he had a reputation of a realist writer (although with some reservations) mostly due to specifically historical backstory of his military cycle. In this regard, his literary style is rarely viewed as a phenomenon of modernist literature &ndash; metareflective, intertextual, centered on the experiments with literary form. However, the works of I. Babel can be viewed as a characteristic to modernism phenomenon of &ldquo;synthesis of arts&rdquo; &ndash; not only painting and cinematography, but music as well. His musicality is traced both on the semantic level and particular recurring images, an on the level of rhythmic structure of the text. The article demonstrates &ldquo;pretexts&rdquo; (genre and stylistic models) that underlie the cycle &ldquo;Red Cavalry&rdquo;: folk songs, revolutionary marches, poetry of French symbolism (namely A. Rimbaud), which targeted to substitute versification with a rhythmic prose. Thus, some elements of I. Babel's prose are interpreted as variations of a free verse, which corresponds to the draft genre definitions given by the author to his stories, as well as to his writing style testified by some of his contemporaries.

<p>Repertuar muzyki bożonarodzeniowej z lat 1945-2005 ugruntowanej na rodzimej tradycji kolędowej przedstawia się jako dość obszerna część twórczości polskich kompozytorów. Jest to zjawisko zróżnicowane, obejmujące różne sposoby traktowania materiału kolędowego, rozmaite rozwiązania z zakresu formy, techniki kompozytorskiej, wielorakie rodzaje składów wykonawczych i różnorodne odcienie ekspresji dźwiękowej. Znajdujemy tu m.in.: częste nawiązania do polskiej muzyki ludowej, stylizacje historyzujące, język romantyczny i neoromantyczny, archaizacje, emanacje nowego języka dźwiękowego (sonorystyka, punktualizm, aleatoryzm, nowoczesna harmonika, technika repetytywna, klastery). W grupie opracowań kolęd (część I: <em>Opracowania kolęd</em>) kompozytorzy najczęściej wykorzystują powszechnie znane kolędy i pastorałki. W wypadku opracowań na chór <em>a cappella</em> i opracowań wokalno-instrumentalnych inspiracja płynie zarówno z tekstu słownego, jak i z melodii opracowanej kolędy (np. przez eksponowanie jej motywów w strukturze głosów kontrapunktujących). Wśród stosowanych technik kompozytorskich dominują środki konwencjonalne, nawiązujące stylistycznie do muzyki epoki romantyzmu lub wcześniejszych epok. Sporadycznie tylko tradycyjnej melodii kolędowej towarzyszą współczesny język harmoniczny i nowe środki wyrazu. W opracowaniach pastorałek często dochodzi do głosu stylizacja polskiego folkloru muzycznego – w melodyce (np. użycie skal charakterystycznych dla muzyki niektórych regionów Polski), rytmice (wykorzystywanie rytmów tanecznych), harmonice i fakturze (puste kwinty, dźwięki burdonowe). Szczególnie często twórcy nawiązują do muzyki Podhala. Instrumentalne opracowania mają natomiast z reguły charakter użytkowy – służą do gry w kościele, celom dydaktycznym, muzykowaniu domowemu. Grupa kompozycji (część II: <em>Kompozycje</em>), które odwołują się do rodzimej tradycji kolędowo-pastorałkowej, dystansując się jednocześnie od praktyki opracowań, aranżacji itp., jest dużo bardziej zróżnicowana, zarówno pod względem tekstowym, jak i muzycznym. W utworach wokalnych i wokalno-instrumentalnych uderza rozległość warstwy literackiej, obejmującej teksty z dawnych epok, XIX w., poezję współczesną, twórczość ludową, teksty łacińskie. W ślad za tym idzie daleko posunięta różnorodność środków i technik kompozytorskich, konwencji stylistycznych i typów ekspresji. Z jednej strony pojawiają się archaizacje – nawiązania do organum, chorału gregoriańskiego, rytmiki i harmoniki modalnej, dawnych form, z drugiej – ludowe stylizacje, neobarok, kompozycje romantyzujące, dzieła oparte na współczesnym języku dźwiękowym. Równie wielką rozmaitość zauważamy w sposobach traktowania tradycyjnego materiału kolędowego, począwszy od nasycenia nim struktury motywicznej kompozycji (materiał tematyczny, imitacje, snucie motywiczne), po okazjonalne cytaty, a nawet takie sytuacje, gdzie nowo skomponowana muzyka unika cytatu, a mimo to – w różny sposób – przywołuje kolędowo-pastorałkowy nastrój. Podobnie rzecz ma się z kompozycjami instrumentalnymi. Są pośród nich takie, w których melodia kolędy staje się czynnikiem konstrukcyjnym, na drugim zaś biegunie sytuują się utwory, w którym cytat z kolędy pojawia się okazjonalnie, pełniąc rolę symbolu.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Christmas Carol as a Source of Inspiration in the Works of Polish Composers in 1945-2005</strong></p>SUMMARY<p>The repertoire of Christmas music from 1945-2005, consolidated on the native Christmas carol tradition, can be perceived as a vast part of the works of Polish composers. It is a diverse phenomenon, comprising various ways of treatment of the Christmas carol material, various solutions in the form, composer’s technique, various kinds of the artist forces, and various shadows of sound expression. We may fi nd here inter alia: frequent references to Polish folk music, historicizing stylizations, Romantic and neo-Romantic language, archaizations, emanations of a new sound language (sonorism, punctualism, aleatorism, modern harmonica, repetitive technique, clusters). In the group of adaptations of carols (Part I – Adaptation of Carols) the composers frequently make use of commonly known carols and pastorals. In the case of adaptations for a choir a cappella and vocal-instrumental adaptations, the inspiration stems from both the verbal text and melody of the adapted carol e.g. by emphasizing its motifs in the structure of counterpoint voices). Among applied composer’s techniques, conventional means dominate which stylistically refer to the music of Romantic or previous epochs. Only sporadically the traditional carol melody is accompanied by modern harmonic language and new means of expression. In the adaptation of pastorals the stylization of Polish musical folklore is very often heard – in the melody pattern (e.g. the use of scales characteristic of the music of some regions in Poland), in rhythmicity (the use of dancing rhythms), in harmony and texture (empty fi fths, bourdon sounds). The composers particularly frequently refer to the music of the Podhale region. Instrumental adaptations are usually of practical character – they serve to be played in church, for didactic purposes, to play music at home. The group of compositions (Part II – Compositions) which refers to the native carol-pastoral tradition, while at same time distancing itself from the practice of arrangements etc., is far more diverse both as far as the text and melody is concerned. In vocal and vocal-instrumental works the vastness of the literary layer is striking; it comprises the texts from old epochs, 19th century, modern poetry, folk works, and Latin texts. This is followed by a variety of means and composer’s techniques, stylistic conventions, and types of expression. On the one hand, there are archaizations – references to the organum, Gregorian chorale, rhythmicity and modal harmony of old forms, on the other hand – folk stylizations, neo-Baroque, romanticizing compositions, work based on modern sound language. We may also perceive a great variety in the way of treating traditional carol, material from fi lling with it the motif structure of the composition (thematic material, imitation, motif repetitions) to occasional citations, and even to such situations where newly composed music avoids a citation, nevertheless it refers to the carol-pastoral mood). The same applies to the instrumental compositions. There are compositions in which the melody of a carol is a constructive factor; at the opposite end there are musical pieces in which the citation from a carol appears occasionally, playing the role of a symbol.</p>

The author explores creative interpretations of the work “Seven Beauties” written by a humanist poet Nizami Ganjavi (7th century) from the “Hamse” cycle. The poet was a genuine erudite, connoisseur of not only Koranic texts, history, ancient and Muslim philosophy, but astronomy as well. This article is an attempt to trace the oriental symbolism in the images of Ganjavi in one of the creative interpretations of the poem “Seven Beauties” through the prism of choreographic and scenographic art. The method of research is a semiological analysis, the object of study is the ballet “Seven Beauties”, combining the achievements of modern European choreography and medieval Eastern poetry with its inherent imagery, set to the music of Azerbaijani composer Kara Karayev. The composer K. Karayev actively used authentic musical traditions of Azerbaijan (musical harmonies, Ashug melodics and elements of Azerbaijani folk modes), combining them with European melodies and rhythms. Analyzing the film-ballet “Seven Beauties” (1982, directed by Felix Slidovker) and the new production of the Theater of Opera and Ballet named after M.F. Akhundov (2011), the author traces the transformation of the libretto and offers his own rendition of symbolism in the metaphorical work of the classic Nizami Ganjavi. The search for truth, beauty, and justice has always been a part of a thinking person. Eastern poets chanted this search, this long and difficult road to the truth, the ideal world. Court intrigues, the luxury of the palace and the daily life of the common people, nobility, guile and love intertwined in this metaphorical Eastern parable, which formed the basis for several interpretations of the ballet “Seven Beauties”. Despite the great degree of conventionality inherent in this genre of stage art, the film ballet is characterized by dramaturgical diversity, organic entwinement of developing storylines, dynamic interrelation of social and lyrical-psychological conflicts. The transformation of the libretto to the ballet “Seven Beauties” testifies to a new, deeper reading, its coming closer to the ideological and philosophical metaphorical concept of the original poem by Nizami Ganjavi, to eternal search for the truth, love and justice sung by the poet with oriental imagery characteristic for him.

Formulation of the problem. In the chamber-vocal genre, the composer exists in two images: he is both the interpreter of the poetic composition and the author of a new synthetic music and poetic composition. The experience of the style analysis of one of the best examples of Ukrainian vocal lyrics of the first third of the 20th century shows that the cycle op. 20 characterizes the mature style of the composer, which was formed, on the one hand, under the influence of European Romanticism. On the other hand, the essence of the Ukrainian “branch” of the Western European song-romance (“solo-singing”) is revealed by the prominent national song-romance intonation, filled with not only a romantic worldview, but also with some personal sincerity, chastity, intimate involvement with the great in depth and simplicity poetry line, read from the individual position of the musician. The paradox is as follows. Although Pushkin’s poetry is embodied in a “holistic adequacy” (A. Khutorskaya), and the composer found the fullest semantic analogue of the poetic source, however, in terms of translating the text into the Ukrainian language, the musical semantics changes its intonation immanence, which naturally leads to inconsistency of the listeners’ position and ideas about the style of Russian romance. We are dealing with inter-specific literary translation: Pushkin’s discourse creates the Ukrainian romance style and system of figurative thinking. The purpose of the article is to reveal the principle of re-semantization of the intonation-figurative concept of the vocal composition by V. Kosenko (in the context of translating Pushkin’s poetry into the Ukrainian language) in light of the theory of interspecific art translation. Analysis of recent publications on the topic. Among the most recent studies of Ukrainian musicology, one should point out the dissertation by G. Khafizova (Kyiv, 2017), in which the theory of modelling of the stylistic system of the vocal composition as an expression of Pushkin’s discourse is described. The basis for the further stylistic analysis of V. Kosenko’s compositions is the points from A. Hutorska’s candidate’s thesis; she develops the theory of interspecific art translation. The types of translation of poetry into music are classified according to two parameters. The exact translation creates integral adequacy, which involves the composer’s finding a maximally full semantic analogue of the poetic source. The free translation is characterized by compensatory, fragmentary, generalized-genre adequacy. Presenting the main material. The Zhitomir period for Viktor Kosenko was the time of the formation of his creative style. Alongside the lyrical imagery line, the composer acquired one more – dramatic, after his mother’s death. It is possible that the romances on the poems of A. Pushkin are more late reflection of this tragic experience (op. 20 was created in 1930). “I Loved You” opens the vocal cycle and has been dedicated by A. V. Kosenko. The short piano introduction contains the intonation emblem of the love-feeling wave. The form of the composition is a two part reprising (А А1) with the piano Introduction and Postlude. The semantic culmination is emphasized by the change of metro-rhythmic organization 5/4 (instead of 4) and the plastic phrase “as I wish, that the other will love you” sounding in the text. Due to these melodies (with national segments in melo-types, rhythm formulas and harmony) V. Kosenko should be considered as “Ukrainian Glinka”, the composer who introduced new forms and “figures” of the love language into the romantic “intonation dictionary”. In general, V. Kosenko’s solo-singing represents the Ukrainian analogue of Pushkin’s discourse – the theme of love. The melos of vocal piece “I Lived through My Desires” is remembered by the broad breath, bright expression of the syntactic deployment of emotion. On the background of bass ostinato, the song intonation acquires a noble courage. This solo-singing most intermediately appeal to the typical examples of the urban romance of Russian culture of the 19th century. “The Raven to the Raven” – a Scottish folk ballad in the translation by A. Pushkin. V. Kosenko as a profound psychologist, delicately transmits the techniques of versification, following each movement of a poetic phrase, builds stages of the musical drama by purely intonation means. The semantics of a death is embodied through the sound imaging of a black bird: a marching-like tempo and rhythm of the accompaniment, with a characteristic dotted pattern in a descending motion (like a raven is beating its wings). The middle section is dominated by a slow-motion perception of time space (Andante), meditative “freeze” (size 6/4). The melody contrasts with the previous section, its profile is built on the principle of descending move: from “h1” to “h” of the small octave (with a stop on S-harmony), which creates a psychologically immersed state, filled by premonition of an unexpected tragedy. In general, the Ukrainian melodic intonation intensified the tragic content of the ballad by Pushkin. The musical semantics of V. Kosenko’s romances is marked by the dependence on the romantic “musical vocabulary”, however, it is possible to indicate and national characteristics (ascending little-sixth and fifth intervals, which is filled with a gradual anti-movement; syllabic tonic versification, and other). Conclusion. The romances (“solo-singings”) by V. Kosenko belongs to the type of a free art translation with generalized-genre adequacy. There is a re-semantization of poetic images due to the national-mental intonation. Melos, rhythm, textural presentation (repetitions), stylization of different genre formulas testify to the rare beauty of Kosenko’s vocal style, spiritual strength and maturity of the master of Ukrainian vocal culture. Entering the “Slavic song area”, the style of Ukrainian romance, however, is differenced from the Russian and common European style system of figurative and intonation thinking (the picture of the world).

Background. In recent years, there has been an increasing interest in the phenomenon of lyricism in Ukrainian musicology. This growth is more so conspicuous given that in the Soviet Musical Encyclopedia this term was omitted, and now it is the pivot of various researches, up to Ph. D. dissertations [7]. There is also a tendency to use this term regarding not only to vocal, but to instrumental music as well, including works lacking noticeable traits of lyrical mood. Works devoted to literature contain valuable information on lyricism, including remarks on the apprehension of this phenomenon in France. On the other side, there are no special researches devoted to incarnation of lyricism in different cultures of pop singing based on their comparison. The objective of research is to reveal specifics of lyricism in Ukrainian and French songs and to apply the results received to the of work with the students of Popular Music and Jazz Department. Methods. To reach that objective, eight songs have been considered. Although these songs belong to different cultures (Ukrainian and French), they are bound the similar plot basics; they pertain to love poetry, and each of them in some way embodies themes of detachment, remembrance, confession of love etc. The main aspect taken into consideration was whether the song leans towards open expression of feeling or no, when the feelings of lyrical hero (even very strong) are kept inside him; and in what way that correlates with the song being French or Ukrainian. Results. Having considering these songs, we were able to state similarities and differences between them. The song “Kohana” (“Beloved”) combines lyrical extraversion with optimistic mood. Plentiful hints about future allow understanding of this song as an open declaration of joy, caused by mutual love. Hence, firm belief in happy future should be represented with active and strong voice. Contrary to that, the song “Ochi voloshkovi” (“Cornflower-blue Eyes”) directs into the past as a reminiscence of pleasant days of happiness. Clearly defined initial nostalgic mood gradually shifts into a tragic one as it becomes clear, that hero’s hopes for future cannot be fulfilled. In this case, emphatic affirmative intonation would be perceived as an illusion. The song “Kvity romena” (“Flowers of chamomile”) represents another pole of Ukrainian songs as it lacks tragic mood or confessions. The text of the song hasn’t any conflicts, and that causes “unproblematic” performing tone. The poetic text differs from the previous two songs as it relies less on a parallelism between nature and state of the soul and uses more complicated methods, such as assonances and more elaborated system of metaphors (the chamomile, initially standing for the soul of the hero, later becomes a symbol of love). Overall, this song characterizes not by “experiencing”, but by representation. The main motive of the song “Dead Leaves” (“Les feuilles mortes”) is remembrance, but not only of the past times, but also of the song, which the lyrical hero used to sing with his beloved. The structure of “Les feuilles mortes” is quite original as it consists of two parts: introduction with clearly defined speech basis, and the main part, where vocal plays bigger role. This reminds of traditional opera form “Recitativo e Aria”, where both parts might be not joined by the same thematic material. “Les feuilles mortes” doesn`t bear conflict as the idea that love cannot be returned is accepted rather calmly, without outburst of lamentation. The “flow” of music is rather smooth as it lacks sudden modulations and unusual intonations; that creates an atmosphere of tranquil reminiscence. The opposite attitude about love is enshrined in the song “The snow is falling” (“Tombe la neige”), where the snow stands for cold and dispassionate reality as well as of the state of soul of lyrical hero. The unity of these meanings is emphasized in the words “Blanche solitude” (“White solitude”), and their opposition – in the contrast of desperate cry and indifferent descent of snow. The melody of song is quite special as it has a pause after each line that creates the effect of woeful sighs. The simplicity of the harmony emphases relentless despair of the hero; thus, the song demonstrates an example of “limitation of expressive possibilities”. In the song “Nathalie” lyricism is combined with narrative features as the song is, basically, the recital of the story of the visit of the French tourist to the Moscow during the Soviet era. Here, the sound-painting is used: to portray the party of Russian students, the orchestra resembling Russian folk instruments is used and gradual acceleration of the tempo creates an allusion to traditional Russian dances. In the last part of the song potentially dramatic phrase “My life appears empty” doesn’t cause culmination as it would do on Ukrainian song – solitude taken just as fact of reality. The conclusion is drawn that the lyricism of Ukrainian songs is mostly inclined to the “pure” type with its open emotionality, and that of French songs – by the synthesis with another moduses of expression (such as narrative, pondering, reminiscence etc.). This difference is visible even more due to the similarities of the poetic texts. The Ukrainian songs usually have more opened form of emotional expression, with illusion of “experiencing”, while the French songs are marked by quite reserved feelings or usage of the change of their intensity as a mean of expression. In the latter case, expressiveness is reached often by another means, which often require more intellectual perception (complicated and refined poetic symbols, music closely following the text, poetic techniques etc.). Although of considered song groups includes those seemingly negating these conclusions (“Kvity romena”, “Tombe la neige”), they can be regarded as exceptions from the general rule that is inevitable and natural in the functioning of “living” artistic culture. Nevertheless, both national cultures share understanding of lyricism as expression of feelings. Comprehension of specifics of lyricism in Ukrainian and French songs will allow the students in their practical work to choose the degree of revealing of emotions suitable to the essence of the performed songs; that, subsequently, will result in the performance being stylistically loyal. At the same time, similarities in interpretation of lyricism allow to overcome any cultural or language barriers.

Background. The current paper provides an intonation and dramaturgical analysis of the choral concerto “Witchery Songs” by a contemporary Ukrainian composer M. Shukh (1952–2018). It reveals stylistic features of the late composition, presents an argument for its affiliation to the meditative sphere enriched with new stylistics, which can be seen in the semantics of contemplation, philosophical and psychological focus (the first movement), the concept of “Light” (the second miniature) as well as composure and blissful sleep (final). Objectives. To reveal stylistic features of the choral concert “Witchery songs” in order to understand the multidimensionality of the late style of M. Shukh (2010). Methods. The methodology of the research is based on the genre, stylistic, structurally functional, intonation-dramaturgicaland semantic scientific approaches. Results. The structure of the cycle includes three miniatures created in different years (1993, 2006 and 2009). The composer combined them into a new author’s concept: the unifier was the image of the author’s contemplation, meditation on various images of O. Kryvoruchko’s poetry, which was related to his spiritual universe. The program title of the cycle “Witchery Songs” chosen by the author is general, borrowed from the dramatic imaginary sphere of the first movement. The first movement “Practising witchery on a Gray Seagull” embodies the image of a seagull appearing in different forms: as a white bird, a symbol of purity, and the grey one, which had been grief-stricken and died, leaving behind baby seagulls. The poetic text is abundant with symbols of death (“black water”, “bitter mountain”), and vice versa, with signs that symbolize hope: “clear field”, “pure wonder”, “white grasses”. At the same time, the name of the movement, its folklore bias and content also point to the image of witchery, which is embodied by M. Schukh in thematism through meditation (means of tempo and timbre dramaturgy, “dark” modal and tonal focus). The metrical organization of the movement attracts attention. If the beginning of the introduction is presented in the 4/4 time, then in the enunciation of the main theme (bar 7) the composer uses an odd meter of 11/8 with the subsequent change to 10/8, 5/8, then 3/4. The frequent change of the metric rhythm indicates the relation of the musical stylistics of this theme to the Ukrainian folk-song tradition. The second movement “Night” contains no specific symbolism of practising witchery: the semantics of the night includes rather a genre model of a nocturne with its onomatopoeia (breeze, bells, stars, moon). A beautiful pattern is perceived as an intermezzo between the dramatic text of the cycle exposition and the celestial lullaby, which elevates the earth’s feelings to the Light. The movement reveals a magical picture of nightlife. The composer embodied this contemplative image by creating light meditation. Major colour, quiet dynamics, slow tempo, and chamber-like use of musical expressiveness all contribute to the basic essence of a meditative state – calmness and relaxation. Meditative onomatopoeia interfuses the whole movement – a light breeze, lighting up the stars. The image of the bell is found in all parts: the first soprano part has a poetic text – “the wind tinkles “, the alto one has mormorando, a singing technique, the second sopranos – syllables “din, don” with sonorous singing of the last “n”. In this part the composer often applies the techniques of free development – glissando, tenuto, rhythmic variety – triples, long delays. In such a way the artist sought to “let the performers go”, creating a meditative image of night silence. In the third movement, “Angelic lullaby,” meditative semantics is multiplied, since the genre of lullaby, like meditation, has a calming effect. Thanks to its name the composer gave the song a higher, deeper meaning. Musically, the composer filled the imagery of the movement with an incredibly expressive theme, onomatopoeic techniques similar to the previous movements: imitation of a breeze, hum of birds, stream overflows. Basically, the theme of the movement unfolds with the help of a spiral-like motion technique, the sound of which contributes to the lulling of a baby to sleep. The rhythmic basis of the theme is coloured by the intonational ostinato. The metro-rhythmic structure plays a special role in the dramaturgy of the movement: the composer often changes time signature, a large number of syncopescolour the musical texture, adding depth and at the same time lightness to the texture, and making the choir sound elusively charming. Conclusions. The semantics of the work is formed by stylistic synthesis (folk elements of the musical language embedded in the poetic text of O. Kryvoruchko; sacral signs – bells, angelic lullabies and onomatopoeia), emphasized at the soundintonational level. Taking into account the program subtitle (Practising witchery), the work, at first glance, seems to be a “cognitive dissonance” in the context of spiritual themes predominance in M. Schukh’s music. However, in the original concept of the composition, the composer clarifies for the thoughtful listener his idea – “modulation” way from mythopoetic (earthy) magic to the sacredness of the spiritual type (blissful sleep). The use of folklore stylistics shows that the artist continued the national tradition of O. Koshits, L. Dychko, Ye. Stankovich and others in the choral genre. Such a genre-stylistic decision is today perceived as an actualization of the appeal to traditional folk art, through the lens of philosophicalreligious poetics of author’s thinking.

Gustav Albeck 1906 - 1995By William MichelsenWilliam Michelsen writes an obituary of Gustav Albeck, Professor of Nordic Literature. In his commemorative words, William Michelsen quotes at some length from the commemorative speech, made by Bishop Henning Høirup, Doctor of Divinity, on the occasion of Gustav Albeck’s funeral in the Cathedral of Aarhus.In his commemorative speech Bishop Høirup describes Gustav Albeck’s close ties to Aarhus, where his father, Chief Consultant Viggo Albeck, was the prime mover behind the foundation of the University of Aarhus. Thus, Gustav Albeck’s first publication after his university graduation in 1932 was a pamphlet about the history of the establishment of the Jutland university. The paper is evidence of a fundamental feature of Gustav Albeck’s personality: his loyalty to the family, and to the heritage from previous generations. It is emphasized by Henning Høirup that Gustav Albeck’s research work covered a wide field from runic inscriptions to modem Danish 20th century literature, and that his personal commitment and sympathetic insight combined seriousness with humour, most often inextricably linked together. As an expert on Danish Golden Age literature Albeck was superb. Høirup describes Gustav Albeck’s inspiring work in the Grundtvig Society from its foundation, and his 43 years as editor of Grundtvig Studier, the high scholarly standards of which were of paramount importance for him. Finally Bishop Høirup tells about Gustav Albeck’s invaluable work to promote classical music in Aarhus, and he concludes his speech by remarking on the joy felt by Albeck over the gift to man received in baptism, and his love of Danish poetry.Subsequently William Michelsen draws an equally personal portrait of Gustav Albeck and his work in literary history, in Grundtvig scholarship and popular enlightenment. Gustav Albeck took his M.A. degree in Nordic philology in 1932, and became a Doctor of Philosophy with his thesis on the Nordic Kings’ sagas in 1946, and in 1959 he was appointed Professor at the University of Aarhus, after having been on the teaching staff for a number of years. As early as 1934 Grundtvig wrote his first study of Grundtvig’s early poetry, and through the 1940s he published a number of shorter books on Grundtvig’s writings. In 1948 he contributed to the first annual volume of Grundtvig Studier, and in 1951 he became the editor of the yearbook, a post he held until his death.William Michelsen suggests that Gustav Albeck’s Grundtvig research should be seen on the background of Grundtvig’s visions of a new Danish university, unhampered by rigid academic traditions - visions that found expression in Grundtvig’s folk high school thoughts and his ideas of a Scandinavian university in Gothenburg. Gustav Albeck regarded the University of Aarhus and the University Extension Institution as realizations of these ideas. He agreed with Grundtvig about the crucial importance of popular enlightenment, but always preserved an objective and matter-of-fact distance to the ideas in Grundtvig’s writings. What was important to Gustav Albeck in literary studies was to state what literature says, not to evaluate it or relate oneself personally to it. Thus, to him it was essential to emphasize that Grundtvig was a poet and a great poet - a visionary poet who remained critical towards his own time. Albeck’s philological approach to literary scholarship finds expression in his work on Grundtvig manuscripts, such as the publication of .Grundtvig’s diaries and extract collections. in 1979. Albeck’s most significant book as a Grundtvig scholar was published in 1955 in the series Acta Jutlandica, entitled .Around Grundtvig’s Poetry Collections.. This book deals with Grundtvig’s poetical works in the years 1808-1816, but also contains a large amount of material that throws light on Grundtvig’s development over these years.Fundamentally important to Grundtvig research is Gustav Albeck’s preparation of a model for the registration of Grundtvig’s posthumous works, used by the group of scholars who worked out the 30-volume register. Gustav Albeck’s greatest book is his last publication, .University and People., from 1984, with the modest subtitle .Contributions to the History of the University Extension Institution.. The book contains a wealth of information about how Grundtvig’s vision of a people’s university became a reality around the turn of the century. For 30 years Gustav Albeck was the president of the University Extension Institution in Aarhus.William Michelsen concludes his obituary of Gustav Albeck by pointing out that as Albeck saw him, Grundtvig was not so different from his own time as we tend to see him today. And Gustav Albeck could finish his chapter on Grundtvig in the Politiken Literary History by quoting Jørgen Elbek saying that Grundtvig, with his unshakable faith in the word, was a poet in a far more exclusive sense than any of his contemporaries.

Background. The choral creativity of a modern Ukrainian composer Iryna Aleksiichuk is multifaceted and diverse. It includes spiritual chants, cycles of arrangements of Ukrainian and Balkan folk songs, choral works on poetry of Ukrainian and foreign poets (“Letters from the shell” and “Otherworld’ Games” on the verses by O. Stepanenko, “How Volodya flew quickly from the mountain” on the words by D. Harms), etc. The objective of this study is to find out the features of interpretation the canonical text in spiritual chants for a female choir a cappella by I. Aleksiichuk. Methods of studying. The holistic musical-theoretical analysis is applied to determine the figurative content of the work, to identify the peculiarities of form-building and the use of compositional ways of expressiveness (the intonational structure of the basic elements of the form, the tonal-harmonic plan, the methods of development of the thematic material). In the analysis of music the method of comparison was used (to identify correspondence between the means of musical expressiveness and the features of the canonical text). Results. The material of the analysis are four chants (“The King of Heaven”, “Glory to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit”, “My voice to the Lord”, “Holy, holy, Lord of Sabaoth”), which are united in the cycle “Spiritual chants for female choir a cappella”. In the process of researching the algorithm of sequence of the chants in the cycle is revealed, as well as the correspondence of musical means of expressiveness to canonical text. It is concluded that all chants expressly convey the meaning and the features of the canonical text. Musical structures clearly correlate to verbal. The greatest number of repetitions in the chants the stable formulations of the canonical text acquires: “Lord have mercy”, “Hallelujah”, “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit”, “Holy Lord”. The semantic significance of the canonical text is reproduced through the rich harmony and inventional polyphony, through the changes of time signatures, text repetitions, the wide choir range, dramatic development and contrasts of all means of expressiveness. Four abovementioned spiritual chants for the female choir a cappella on the canonical texts were written by I. Aleksiichuk in different times during 2002–2011. The order of the canonical text and the logic of the deployment of the musical material allowed the composer to combine them into a fourpart concert for a female choir. The cycle begins with the evening prayer “The King of the Heaven” (prayer to the Holy Spirit). This prayer is а part of the early and evening Church rules. Anumber of services that are performed during the day in the Orthodox Church opens by the evening Divine service, since the day, according to the Church’s Charter, begins in the evening. That is why in first the evening service is, which included the repentant prayers for everyday sins and gratitude to God for this day. The chanting begins and ends with the sound of the bells that by and by go silent. The similarity of the finale to the introduction, the repetition of the musical and verbal texts contributes to the roundness of the musical form and helps to its holistic perception. The music of the incantation “Glory to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit” reproduces his exalted character. Applied by the author the ways of expressiveness correspond to the canonical text, which glorifies the God in his three hypostases. The definitive feature of the musical work is the presence of a genre sign characterizing of Orthodox worship, the bells. This feature is reproduced in the homophonic-harmonic texture of the composition relying on the main harmonic functions, singing the repeated sounds, etc. In this chant, I. Aleksiichuk is working on three small parts of the canonical text: “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit”, “now and always and forever” and “Hallelujah”, giving each of them the certain musical themes. The complete formula of prayer sounds in the work three times gaining dynamic development. In the third chorus, “My voice to the Lord”, verses from Psalm 141 are used. This Psalm is the prayer of David to the Lord in the cave in time of his persecution by Saul. Of the seven verses of David’s Psalm, I. Aleksiychuk used four – 1, 2, 4, 5, in which the main content of the work is concentrated. The last part of the cycle is the hymn “Holy, holy, Lord of Sabaoth” performing finale function. This prayer is a part of the Eucharistic canon and it sounds in the most important section of the Divine Liturgy – the Liturgy of the Faithful. The chant begins immediately with the glorification of the God. Conclusions. An analysis of spiritual chants with canonical texts for the female choir a cappella by I. Aleksiichuk illustrates the following. All the songs very clearly express the meaning and features of the canonical text. I.Aleksiichuk choses three-part forms with reprise, in which clearly, according to the text, the musical structures built; the stable formulations of the canonical text “Lord have mercy”, “Hallelujah”, “Glory to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit”, “Holy Lord” are most often repeated; at the end of the three chants (except «My voice to the Lord»), the final confirming formula of the prayers “Amen” sounds; means of expressiveness (changing of meter signatures, repetitions of the sounds, a wide range of the choir, singing of the main sounds of melody) are designed to create the illusion of chime that is the genre sign of the Orthodox worship; the semantic meaning of the canonical text is passing through the rich harmony, in which dissonances and chromaticism aggravate the expressiveness of the spoken words, through the dramatic development of the words of praise (“Hallelujah”, “Glory to the Father, and Son”), poly-timbre sounds, contrasting of all means of expressiveness, etc.

Formulation of the problem, analysis of the publications on the topic. The opera by Lev Kolodub “Poet” is one of the recognized examples of modern “Shevchenkian music” and the outstanding achievement of the composer. From the very premiere at the Kharkiv Opera and Ballet Theater named after M. Lysenko (2001) to this day, this work has been preserved in the theater’s repertoire, and the 2011 Kharkiv performance has become a world event: in the recording of Ukrainian Radio, it was broadcast to 78 countries of the world by the European Broadcasting Union. L. Kolodub’s creativity attracts considerable attention of researchers and was covered in various sources, including monographic essays (Zahaikevych, M., 1973), scientific, encyclopedic, journalistic articles (Bielik Zolotariova, N., 2009; Sulim, R., 2010; Paukov, S., 2007), where the opera “Poet” is mentioned in different contexts. The reviews of premiere performances of this opera were given: in scenic version at Kharkiv (Velychko, Yu., 2002) and in philharmonic variant in Kyiv (Sikorska, I., 2004); in his interviews, the composer also recalled this work. Nevertheless, the holistic analysis of the concept of the opera and the image of its leading hero, as well as its vocal-stage interpretation by the Kharkiv Opera’s artistic collective, has not been carried out yet. The objective of this article is to formulate the concept of the stage embodiment of the Poet’s image in the opera of the same name by L. Kolodub, on the basis of its interpretation at the Kharkiv National Opera and Ballet Theatre and self-own scenic experience of the author of these words, which is currently the only performer of the protagonist’s part. Summary of the main material. The composer has many times emphasized the outstanding importance of Taras Shevchenko’s work for every Ukrainian. “I consider Shevchenko to be a personality who has arisen on the basis of Ukrainian folklore. She is understandable to everyone, everyone cares - this is a very social poet. Many perceive him naturally, since the problems of his works excite and affect people. Shevchenko is incredibly interesting! I constantly re-read him and every time I find a new one. The main thing is that he himself suffered, all this is transmitted in his poetry. At the same time, he is a very big optimist, a warm-hearted person” (from the interview, as cited by Koskin, V., 2008b). The composer noted that the scenic life of his opera was not easy: at first the work arose interest both in Dnipropetrovsk and Kyiv (Children’s Music Theater on Podol, National Opera Theater). In 1988, when the opera was created, S. Turchak, who was supposed to be the conductor, suddenly passed away, and the new management of National Opera deleted it from their plans. Nevertheless, the opera was staged at Kyiv in the philharmonic performance in the arrangement for soloists, choir and brass band (2004). In I. Sikorska’s (2004) opinion, the composer “broke the stereotypes”, having redrafted the score in such a way that the brass orchestra’s timbre palette rivals the symphonic one. The opera is written on the basis of drama “Path” by O. Biletskyi and Z. Sagalov. The librettists’ idea was that the events of poet’s life intervene with the plot collisions of his works. For example, execution of Jun Hus symbolically coincides with the moment of death of Shevchenko himself. Moreover, the poet’s image is identified with heroes of his works. So, Colodub’s opera is the authors’ interpretation of Shevchenko-Kobzar’s fate from the XX century human’s point of view. Therefore, both, phantasmagoria and cinematographic methods are justified. The composer thought that “modern opera requires novel forms of delivering the material. The art of cinema and drama theater are developing fast, and opera esthetics is sort of frozen in the 19th century, she is not seeing even the heels of the far-ahead walking dramaturgy of the modern theater” (from the interview, Koskin, V., 2008a). The principle of introspection became the main dramaturgical principle of opera libretto’s construction. Avoiding the symphonic introduction, the first scene instantly transfers the viewer to the last March night of the Poet’s life. Being on the edge of eternity, the heavily ill Shevchenko is diving in memories. The Poet in the opera acts simultaneously as the event’s participant and its commenter, revealing gradually through different scenic roles: as a na&#239;ve creative person (scene 10), as a poet-citizen, who points out social injustices (scenes 3, 4, 15, 16), as a loving and beloved person (scenes 6, 7, 14, 20), or a thinker (scenes 11, 13, 1, 22). Over time, these roles are summing up, turning Shevchenko’s image into polyphonic and lifting the latter to the epic generalization. The image of the Poet become the symbol of the nation’s self-consciousness lost in the conditions of imperial Russia’s brutal reality (scene 29, “The burning of Jan Hus” – the Czech thinker is the hero of the Shevchenko’s poem of the same name). The opera’s authors do not separate the title hero from the storm of events and kaleidoscope of others scenic personages, which stipulates the specificity of vocal dramaturgy of Shevchenko’s opera character. The Poet’s vocal party does not include the developed solo or duet episodes, but it consists of concise replicas-phrases written by the recitative (Dargomyzhsky-Mussorgsky’s tradition) and several solo statements of arioso type. Conclusions. So, “Poet” by L. Kolodub, continuing the line of psychological opera-drama, vividly presented in the twentieth century by the works of D. Shostakovich, A. Berg, B. Britten and their followers, at the same time appeals to symbolism as to one of the main means of artistic expression. The image of Taras Shevchenko is interpreted as polysemantic: the fate of the Poet coincides in the perception of the audience with the fate of the Ukrainian people in their desire for liberty in a situation of opposition to the autocratic regime. And the freedom of expression of poetic and civic thought appears as a conscious necessity in the struggle for personal freedom, honor and human dignity. The logical culmination of the development of the image is the final scene of the auto-da-f&#233;, where the burning of Jan Hus, the hero of Shevchenko’s poem, acts as a symbol of cruelty to the Poet himself, and to the people, of whose part he is. The musical language of the Poet’s vocal party, on the one hand, is quite naturally approaches to the style of Ukrainian kobzars folk lyrics; on the other hand, it inherits the recitative type of melodicism, which is a characteristic feature of psychological musical theater. Such a synthesis helps to reveal the image of the Poet as the outstanding representative and spiritual leader of the Ukrainian people, and, at the same time, to emphasize the rich content of his work, and the beauty of the inspirited poetic Word. Theopera provides rich artistic material for the study of innovative type of dramatic thinking in the context of the development of the national tradition of the genre and is promising for further study.

Background. The children’s opera in all its diversity has undergone a rapid path to its formation and development, responding to changes in the art and aesthetic space of musical culture. The active being and the practical use of this phenomenon only emphasize the gaps in musicology science more acutely. Some researchers combine with the notion of «children’s opera» both works that involve children to participate in the performing process, and those which are aimed at a certain age audience. Other authors put the term «opera for children» as universal, but use it to describe various works. However, if the information about this genre is contained in the scientifi c literature, research on opera for children-performers analogue, children’s operetta which was formed and used by considerable demand in the late 19th – in the fi rst half of the 20th century in the English-speaking countries, is practically absent. This determines the relevance of the chosen subject. Objectives. The objective of this study is to consider the features of the libretto, the compositional and dramaturgical properties of the children’s operetta by J. L. Gaynor The House that Jack Built as one of the English-language samples of the genre. Methods. So far these methods were been applied: historical, structural and functional, comparative. Results. It is diffi cult to indicate the exact date of the children’s operetta emergence. It is known from available literature that it became widespread in the 1880s. In the following decades, the popularity of children’s operettas does not fade, rather, it only grows. The school authorities even were worried about such an intensity of extracurricular work. However, this fact did not affect the number of performances. There are books containing instructions and guidance, tips on probable diffi culties that could be faced by fi rst-time directors. In particular, it was recommended to divide responsibilities between school departments and draw up a general plan of action. Attention was paid to organizing an advertising campaign to attract as many viewers as possible. With such performance enthusiasm, there was a certain lack of repertoire written specifi cally for children and adolescents. Not surprisingly, the music teachers sought to replenish it. Among them was an American piano and harmony teacher Jessie Lovel Smith Gaynor (1863–1921) who composed The House that Jack Built (1902). This is not the only sample of children’s operetta in the heritage of J. L. Gaynor, she wrote a few more works, mostly after fairy tales: The Lost Princess Bo-Peep (its plot matches Jack’s one), The Toy Shop, Snow White, The Magic Wheel, Three Wishes, The Return of Proserpina, and On Plymouth Rock. The libretto of The House that Jack Built, written by A. G. D. Riley, is compiled on the basis of nursery rhymes, which are an integral part of the English-speaking countries culture. The operetta includes 24 folklore texts (full or fragmented): poems, two counters, and a ballad. To organize the plot, the librettist used the «stringing» method, or the cumulative principle, joining each subsequent element to the previous one with the help of the Mother Goose’s recitative lines. She is the key character, who greets and introduces new guests at her party. This principle is refl ected in the organization of the whole operetta. Mother Gooses’ cues are a refrain similar to the poem The House that Jack Built. Each character is not related to the previous one or the next, they are united only by belonging to the images of folk poetry. Since the libretto is mainly based on miniatures (with one or two verses), there are many participants of the performance: 43 characters, 21 thrushes, and collective characters, the number of which is not specifi ed precisely. There is no plot in common sense – as a series of related events built in accordance with certain principles – in The House that Jack Built. Rather, it reminds the carnival procession, in which characters are appearing one by one. They have bright, sometimes extravagant costumes, which vary with the speed of the pattern in the kaleidoscope. The structure of the operetta is simple and clear. It consists of two acts, divided into 19 big numbers (9 in the fi rst action, 10 in the second), which are often built in the form of a suite. The balance among solo-ensemble and choral numbers in The House that Jack Built is unequal. The choruses prevail in the operetta (there are about 20 of them). It is diffi cult to name the exact number because the author does not always clarify the exact cast. Solo and ensemble numbers are 4 times fewer; in addition, there are 2 numbers in the 2d act, in which the soloist and choir sing together. To achieve compositional and dramatic unity, there was a need to involve additional means in addition to the cross-cutting image of Mother Goose, since the Jack’s plot is deprived of the consistent development of events. This function is performed by several themes: «fairy tale» (in the future it is associated with the appearance of fairies and elves), «pastoral» (its emergence is marked by the remark Andante Pastorale), the theme of Jack, the dance motive, and the theme of King Cole. They are exhibited in the overture for the fi rst time. When the act begins, they are joined by the themes of Mother Goose and Thrushes. For the fi rst time, most of the themes are conducted in the overture. This determines the suite character of its structure: 6 episodes that contrast with each other by tempo. The piano part plays an important role in the operetta. It presents the leading themes, the main image-bearing and poetic motives, and supports the performers in the vocal appearances. The revealed signs give grounds to consider the English-language children’s operetta a national model of opera for children-performers. Conclusions. In the English-speaking countries, particularly in the USA, at the end of the 19th – in the fi rst half of the 20th century the tradition to perform operettas at schools was formed. This works from their form and contents were similar to compositions which were called children’s operas (operas for children-performers) in Europe. An analysis of The House that Jack Built by J. L. Gaynor allows us to interpret the author’s genre name in its original linguistic meaning – «small opera». A signifi cant number of such works still remain beyond the attention of scholars and require a thorough study both in historical and in theoretical directions.

Eminent playwright Habib Tanvir was one of the greatest stalwarts of the modern Indian stage who is known for blending folk theatre and poetry in his dramaturgy thus leaving an indelible mark on the minds of the common people. Folk music and the songs were the first major attractions which triggered his interest in folk performance traditions. The presence of live music, songs and dances thus formed the base his theatre. The present paper humbly attempts to trace the musical journey of Habib Tanvir’s theatrical world showing how songs are not mere ornamental addition but an intrinsic part of the narrative. Tanvir brilliantly fused folk melodies with his own lyrics, tunes and contemporary consciousness.

The article characterizes folk music traditions of Kriashens, the Christianized Tatars of the Volga-Ural region. The author focuses on materials collected during an expedition in 2013 to the Mamadysh region of Tatarstan, Russia. Recordings of music and poetry samples, notation, transcription of verbal texts, and photographs were made by the author. The author presents remarks on the genre structure of the material (including lore associated with calendric rites and divination; life cycle rites; game and dance songs; childlore; religious lore as well as the instrumental musical tradition) and discusses the current state of the Mamadyshsky Kriashen tradition. In the villages of Vladimirovo, Iukachi, Ziuri and Komarovka the core of the folk music tradition is mainly composed of ritual songs. In the village of Nikiforovo, liturgical chants (a folk version of Orthodox prayers) tend to dominate the tradition.

Poetry played a very crucial role in laying the foundations of Australian literature. The enormous collection of vibrant folk songs and ballads might have been the reason for providing such a strong foundation for poetry. Australian poetry can roughly be divided into three periods- the nineteenth century which endeavoured to create an indigenous literary poetry, the early twentieth century lasting upto the period of the Second World War and the later twentieth century extending from the post war period to the present. Australian Bush music is the most popular and is a narration of people’s experiences of living and surviving in the Australian bush.

The word improvisation is burdened with limitations placed on it by changes occurring in Europe in the 19th century, the period when the model of the hyphenated performer-composer prevailing in Europe up to that point was being split into two specialties. By the 20th century, composition and improvisation had been cast in bronze as mutually defining opposites, the presumed starting point of any approach to how music is made and heard, regardless of historical period or cultural origin. As a way of creating a more critical approach to discourse dependent on the ubiquitous "I-word," this essay seeks to problematize it by focusing on the more general concept of variability itself, or mouvance, as the French literary scholar Paul Zumthor described it in his studies of medieval lyric poetry. More than a century of scholarship on the music of Chopin, the songs of the medieval troubadours, folk music of the British Isles and Balkans, and Turkish classical music—all repertoires which do not rely on the conventions of I-discourse—will provide examples of differing levels of tolerance for performer control of musical events, of different definitions of musicianship, and of different performance poetics. Reflex jazz-related I-genres intentionally play no role in this exercise, forcing us to reflect on I-qualities where we least expect to find them and thus to re-examine our dependence on the I-concept in our thinking about the full spectrum of music-making. None of the I-alternates offered here—musicianship, mouvance, control, variability, or poetics—can be considered competitors for the I-word’s universalizing pretensions, but rather offer insight into what I believe is the I-word’s real content.

Introduction One of the ways in which ‘country’ is made to work discursively is in ‘country music’ – defining a genre and sensibility in music production, marketing and consumption. This article seeks to excavate one small niche in the historical geography of country music to explore exactly how discursive antecedents emerged, and crucially, how images associated with ‘country’ surfaced and travelled internationally via one of the new ‘global’ media of the first half of the twentieth century – sheet music. My central arguments are twofold: first, that alongside aural qualities and lyrical content, the visual elements of sheet music were important and thus far have been under-acknowledged. Sheet music diffused the imagery connecting ‘country’ to music, to particular landscapes, and masculinities. In the literature on country music much emphasis has been placed on film, radio and television (Tichi; Peterson). Yet, sheet music was for several decades the most common way people bought personal copies of songs they liked and intended to play at home on piano, guitar or ukulele. This was particularly the case in Australia – geographically distant, and rarely included in international tours by American country music stars. Sheet music is thus a rich text to reveal the historical contours of ‘country’. My second and related argument is that that the possibilities for the globalising of ‘country’ were first explored in music. The idea of transnational discourses associated with ‘country’ and ‘rurality’ is relatively new (Cloke et al; Gorman-Murray et al; McCarthy), but in music we see early evidence of a globalising discourse of ‘country’ well ahead of the time period usually analysed. Accordingly, my focus is on the sheet music of country songs in Australia in the first half of the twentieth century and on how visual representations hybridised travelling themes to create a new vernacular ‘country’ in Australia. Creating ‘Country’ Music Country music, as its name suggests, is perceived as the music of rural areas, “defined in contrast to metropolitan norms” (Smith 301). However, the ‘naturalness’ of associations between country music and rurality belies a history of urban capitalism and the refinement of deliberate methods of marketing music through associated visual imagery. Early groups wore suits and dressed for urban audiences – but then altered appearances later, on the insistence of urban record companies, to emphasise rurality and cowboy heritage. Post-1950, ‘country’ came to replace ‘folk’ music as a marketing label, as the latter was considered to have too many communistic references (Hemphill 5), and the ethnic mixing of earlier folk styles was conveniently forgotten in the marketing of ‘country’ music as distinct from African American ‘race’ and ‘r and b’ music. Now an industry of its own with multinational headquarters in Nashville, country music is a ‘cash cow’ for entertainment corporations, with lower average production costs, considerable profit margins, and marketing advantages that stem from tropes of working class identity and ‘rural’ honesty (see Lewis; Arango). Another of country music’s associations is with American geography – and an imagined heartland in the colonial frontier of the American West. Slippages between ‘country’ and ‘western’ in music, film and dress enhance this. But historical fictions are masked: ‘purists’ argue that western dress and music have nothing to do with ‘country’ (see truewesternmusic.com), while recognition of the Spanish-Mexican, Native American and Hawaiian origins of ‘cowboy’ mythology is meagre (George-Warren and Freedman). Similarly, the highly international diffusion and adaptation of country music as it rose to prominence in the 1940s is frequently downplayed (Connell and Gibson), as are the destructive elements of colonialism and dispossession of indigenous peoples in frontier America (though Johnny Cash’s 1964 album The Ballads Of The American Indian: Bitter Tears was an exception). Adding to the above is the way ‘country’ operates discursively in music as a means to construct particular masculinities. Again, linked to rural imagery and the American frontier, the dominant masculinity is of rugged men wrestling nature, negotiating hardships and the pressures of family life. Country music valorises ‘heroic masculinities’ (Holt and Thompson), with echoes of earlier cowboy identities reverberating into contemporary performance through dress style, lyrical content and marketing imagery. The men of country music mythology live an isolated existence, working hard to earn an income for dependent families. Their music speaks to the triumph of hard work, honest values (meaning in this context a musical style, and lyrical concerns that are ‘down to earth’, ‘straightforward’ and ‘without pretence’) and physical strength, in spite of neglect from national governments and uncaring urban leaders. Country music has often come to be associated with conservative politics, heteronormativity, and whiteness (Gibson and Davidson), echoing the wider politics of ‘country’ – it is no coincidence, for example, that the slogan for the 2008 Republican National Convention in America was ‘country first’. And yet, throughout its history, country music has also enabled more diverse gender performances to emerge – from those emphasising (or bemoaning) domesticity; assertive femininity; creative negotiation of ‘country’ norms by gay men; and ‘alternative’ culture (captured in the marketing tag, ‘alt.country’); to those acknowledging white male victimhood, criminality (‘the outlaw’), vulnerability and cruelty (see Johnson; McCusker and Pecknold; Saucier). Despite dominant tropes of ‘honesty’, country music is far from transparent, standing for certain values and identities, and yet enabling the construction of diverse and contradictory others. Historical analysis is therefore required to trace the emergence of ‘country’ in music, as it travelled beyond America. A Note on Sheet Music as Media Source Sheet music was one of the main modes of distribution of music from the 1930s through to the 1950s – a formative period in which an eclectic group of otherwise distinct ‘hillbilly’ and ‘folk’ styles moved into a single genre identity, and after which vinyl singles and LP records with picture covers dominated. Sheet music was prevalent in everyday life: beyond radio, a hit song was one that was widely purchased as sheet music, while pianos and sheet music collections (stored in a piece of furniture called a ‘music canterbury’) in family homes were commonplace. Sheet music is in many respects preferable to recorded music as a form of evidence for historical analysis of country music. Picture LP covers did not arrive until the late 1950s (by which time rock and roll had surpassed country music). Until then, 78 rpm shellac discs, the main form of pre-recorded music, featured generic brown paper sleeves from the individual record companies, or city retail stores. Also, while radio was clearly central to the consumption of music in this period, it obviously also lacked the pictorial element that sheet music could provide. Sheet music bridged the music and printing industries – the latter already well-equipped with colour printing, graphic design and marketing tools. Sheet music was often literally crammed with information, providing the researcher with musical notation, lyrics, cover art and embedded advertisements – aural and visual texts combined. These multiple dimensions of sheet music proved useful here, for clues to the context of the music/media industries and geography of distribution (for instance, in addresses for publishers and sheet music retail shops). Moreover, most sheet music of the time used rich, sometimes exaggerated, images to convince passing shoppers to buy songs that they had possibly never heard. As sheet music required caricature rather than detail or historical accuracy, it enabled fantasy without distraction. In terms of representations of ‘country’, then, sheet music is perhaps even more evocative than film or television. Hundreds of sheet music items were collected for this research over several years, through deliberate searching (for instance, in library archives and specialist sheet music stores) and with some serendipity (for instance, when buying second hand sheet music in charity shops or garage sales). The collected material is probably not representative of all music available at the time – it is as much a specialised personal collection as a comprehensive survey. However, at least some material from all the major Australian country music performers of the time were found, and the resulting collection appears to be several times larger than that held currently by the National Library of Australia (from which some entries were sourced). All examples here are of songs written by, or cover art designed for Australian country music performers. For brevity’s sake, the following analysis of the sheet music follows a crudely chronological framework. Country Music in Australia Before ‘Country’ Country music did not ‘arrive’ in Australia from America as a fully-finished genre category; nor was Australia at the time without rural mythology or its own folk music traditions. Associations between Australian national identity, rurality and popular culture were entrenched in a period of intense creativity and renewed national pride in the decades prior to and after Federation in 1901. This period saw an outpouring of art, poetry, music and writing in new nationalist idiom, rooted in ‘the bush’ (though drawing heavily on Celtic expressions), and celebrating themes of mateship, rural adversity and ‘battlers’. By the turn of the twentieth century, such myths, invoked through memory and nostalgia, had already been popularised. Australia had a fully-established system of colonies, capital cities and state governments, and was highly urbanised. Yet the poetry, folk music and art, invariably set in rural locales, looked back to the early 1800s, romanticising bush characters and frontier events. The ‘bush ballad’ was a central and recurring motif, one that commentators have argued was distinctly, and essentially ‘Australian’ (Watson; Smith). Sheet music from this early period reflects the nationalistic, bush-orientated popular culture of the time: iconic Australian fauna and flora are prominent, and Australian folk culture is emphasised as ‘native’ (being the first era of cultural expressions from Australian-born residents). Pioneer life and achievements are celebrated. ‘Along the road to Gundagai’, for instance, was about an iconic Australian country town and depicted sheep droving along rustic trails with overhanging eucalypts. Male figures are either absent, or are depicted in situ as lone drovers in the archetypal ‘shepherd’ image, behind their flocks of sheep (Figure 1). Figure 1: No. 1 Magpie Ballads – The Pioneer (c1900) and Along the road to Gundagai (1923). Further colonial ruralities developed in Australia from the 1910s to 1940s, when agrarian values grew in the promotion of Australian agricultural exports. Australia ‘rode on the sheep’s back’ to industrialisation, and governments promoted rural development and inland migration. It was a period in which rural lifestyles were seen as superior to those in the crowded inner city, and government strategies sought to create a landed proletariat through post-war land settlement and farm allotment schemes. National security was said to rely on populating the inland with those of European descent, developing rural industries, and breeding a healthier and yet compliant population (Dufty), from which armies of war-ready men could be recruited in times of conflict. Popular culture served these national interests, and thus during these decades, when ‘hillbilly’ and other North American music forms were imported, they were transformed, adapted and reworked (as in other places such as Canada – see Lehr). There were definite parallels in the frontier narratives of the United States (Whiteoak), and several local adaptations followed: Tex Morton became Australia’s ‘Yodelling boundary rider’ and Gordon Parsons became ‘Australia’s yodelling bushman’. American songs were re-recorded and performed, and new original songs written with Australian lyrics, titles and themes. Visual imagery in sheet music built upon earlier folk/bush frontier themes to re-cast Australian pastoralism in a more settled, modernist and nationalist aesthetic; farms were places for the production of a robust nation. Where male figures were present on sheet music covers in the early twentieth century, they became more prominent in this period, and wore Akubras (Figure 2). The lyrics to John Ashe’s Growin’ the Golden Fleece (1952) exemplify this mix of Australian frontier imagery, new pastoralist/nationalist rhetoric, and the importation of American cowboy masculinity: Go west and take up sheep, man, North Queensland is the shot But if you don’t get rich, man, you’re sure to get dry rot Oh! Growin’ the golden fleece, battlin’ a-way out west Is bound to break your flamin’ heart, or else expand your chest… We westerners are handy, we can’t afford to crack Not while the whole darn’d country is riding on our back Figure 2: Eric Tutin’s Shearers’ Jamboree (1946). As in America, country music struck a chord because it emerged “at a point in history when the project of the creation and settlement of a new society was underway but had been neither completed nor abandoned” (Dyer 33). Governments pressed on with the colonial project of inland expansion in Australia, despite the theft of indigenous country this entailed, and popular culture such as music became a means to normalise and naturalise the process. Again, mutations of American western imagery, and particular iconic male figures were important, as in Roy Darling’s (1945) Overlander Trail (Figure 3): Wagon wheels are rolling on, and the days seem mighty long Clouds of heat-dust in the air, bawling cattle everywhere They’re on the overlander trail Where only sheer determination will prevail Men of Aussie with a job to do, they’ll stick and drive the cattle through And though they sweat they know they surely must Keep on the trail that winds a-head thro’ heat and dust All sons of Aussie and they will not fail. Sheet music depicted silhouetted men in cowboy hats on horses (either riding solo or in small groups), riding into sunsets or before looming mountain ranges. Music – an important part of popular culture in the 1940s – furthered the colonial project of invading, securing and transforming the Australian interior by normalising its agendas and providing it with heroic male characters, stirring tales and catchy tunes. Figure 3: ‘Roy Darling’s (1945) Overlander Trail and Smoky Dawson’s The Overlander’s Song (1946). ‘Country Music’ Becomes a (Globalised) Genre Further growth in Australian country music followed waves of popularity in the United States in the 1940s and 1950s, and was heavily influenced by new cross-media publicity opportunities. Radio shows expanded, and western TV shows such as Bonanza and On the Range fuelled a ‘golden age’. Australian performers such as Slim Dusty and Smokey Dawson rose to fame (see Fitzgerald and Hayward) in an era when rural-urban migration peaked. Sheet music reflected the further diffusion and adoption of American visual imagery: where male figures were present on sheet music covers, they became more prominent than before and wore Stetsons. Some were depicted as chiselled-faced but simple men, with plain clothing and square jaws. Others began to more enthusiastically embrace cowboy looks, with bandana neckerchiefs, rawhide waistcoats, embellished and harnessed tall shaft boots, pipe-edged western shirts with wide collars, smile pockets, snap fasteners and shotgun cuffs, and fringed leather jackets (Figure 4). Landscapes altered further too: cacti replaced eucalypts, and iconic ‘western’ imagery of dusty towns, deserts, mesas and buttes appeared (Figure 5). Any semblance of folk music’s appeal to rustic authenticity was jettisoned in favour of showmanship, as cowboy personas were constructed to maximise cinematic appeal. Figure 4: Al Dexter’s Pistol Packin’ Mama (1943) and Reg Lindsay’s (1954) Country and Western Song Album. Figure 5: Tim McNamara’s Hitching Post (1948) and Smoky Dawson’s Golden West Album (1951). Far from slavish mimicry of American culture, however, hybridisations were common. According to Australian music historian Graeme Smith (300): “Australian place names appear, seeking the same mythological resonance that American localisation evoked: hobos became bagmen […] cowboys become boundary riders.” Thus alongside reproductions of the musical notations of American songs by Lefty Frizzel, Roy Carter and Jimmie Rodgers were songs with localised themes by new Australian stars such as Reg Lindsay and Smoky Dawson: My curlyheaded buckaroo, My home way out back, and On the Murray Valley. On the cover of The square dance by the billabong (Figure 6) – the title of which itself was a conjunction of archetypal ‘country’ images from both America and Australia – a background of eucalypts and windmills frames dancers in classic 1940s western (American) garb. In the case of Tex Morton’s Beautiful Queensland (Figure 7), itself mutated from W. Lee O’Daniel’s Beautiful Texas (c1945), the sheet music instructed those playing the music that the ‘names of other states may be substituted for Queensland’. ‘Country’ music had become an established genre, with normative values, standardised images and themes and yet constituted a stylistic formula with enough polysemy to enable local adaptations and variations. Figure 6: The Square dance by the billabong, Vernon Lisle, 1951. Figure 7: Beautiful Queensland, Tex Morton, c1945 source: http://nla.gov.au/nla.mus-vn1793930. Conclusions In country music images of place and masculinity combine. In music, frontier landscapes are populated by rugged men living ‘on the range’ in neo-colonial attempts to tame the land and convert it to productive uses. This article has considered only one media – sheet music – in only one country (Australia) and in only one time period (1900-1950s). There is much more to say than was possible here about country music, place and gender – particularly recently, since ‘country’ has fragmented into several niches, and marketing of country music via cable television and the internet has ensued (see McCusker and Pecknold). My purpose here has been instead to explore the early origins of ‘country’ mythology in popular culture, through a media source rarely analysed. Images associated with ‘country’ travelled internationally via sheet music, immensely popular in the 1930s and 1940s before the advent of television. The visual elements of sheet music contributed to the popularisation and standardisation of genre expectations and appearances, and yet these too travelled and were adapted and varied in places like Australia which had their own colonial histories and folk music heritages. Evidenced here is how combinations of geographical and gender imagery embraced imported American cowboy imagery and adapted it to local markets and concerns. Australia saw itself as a modern rural utopia with export aspirations and a desire to secure permanence through taming and populating its inland. Sheet music reflected all this. So too, sheet music reveals the historical contours of ‘country’ as a transnational discourse – and the extent to which ‘country’ brought with it a clearly defined set of normative values, a somewhat exaggerated cowboy masculinity, and a remarkable capacity to be moulded to local circumstances. Well before later and more supposedly ‘global’ media such as the internet and television, the humble printed sheet of notated music was steadily shaping ‘country’ imagery, and an emergent international geography of cultural flows. References Arango, Tim. “Cashville USA.” Fortune, Jan 29, 2007. Sept 3, 2008, http://money.cnn.com/magazines/fortune/fortune_archive/2007/01/22/8397980/index.htm. Cloke, Paul, Marsden, Terry and Mooney, Patrick, eds. Handbook of Rural Studies, London: Sage, 2006. 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Gorman-Murray, Andrew, Darian-Smith, Kate and Gibson, Chris. “Scaling the rural: reflections on rural cultural studies.” Australian Humanities Review 45 (2008): in press. Hemphill, Paul. The Nashville Sound: Bright Lights and Country Music, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1970. Holt, Douglas B. and Thompson, Craig J. “Man-of-action heroes: the pursuit of heroic masculinity in everyday consumption.” Journal of Consumer Research 31 (2004). Johnson, Corey W. “‘The first step is the two-step’: hegemonic masculinity and dancing in a country western gay bar.” International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 18 (2004): 445-464. Lehr, John C. “‘Texas (When I die)’: national identity and images of place in Canadian country music broadcasts.” The Canadian Geographer 27 (1983): 361-370. Lewis, George H. “Lap dancer or hillbilly deluxe? The cultural construction of modern country music.” Journal of Popular Culture, 31 (1997): 163-173. McCarthy, James. “Rural geography: globalizing the countryside.” Progress in Human Geography 32 (2008): 132-137. McCusker, Kristine M. and Pecknold, Diane. Eds. A Boy Named Sue: Gender and Country Music. UP of Mississippi, 2004. Peterson, Richard A. Creating Country Music: Fabricating Authenticity. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1997. Saucier, Karen A. “Healers and heartbreakers: images of women and men in country music.” Journal of Popular Culture 20 (1986): 147-166. Smith, Graeme. “Australian country music and the hillbilly yodel.” Popular Music 13 (1994): 297-311. Tichi, Cecelia. Readin’ Country Music. Durham: Duke UP, 1998. truewesternmusic.com “True western music.”, Sept 3, 2008, http://truewesternmusic.com/. Watson, Eric. Country Music in Australia. Sydney: Rodeo Publications, 1984. Whiteoak, John. “Two frontiers: early cowboy music and Australian popular culture.” Outback and Urban: Australian Country Music. Ed. P. Hayward. Gympie: AICMP: 2003. 1-28.

Keywords: Ludis Bērziņš, textbook, folklore studies, dainology, resource of terminology The personality of Ludis Bērziņš (1870–1965) in Latvian culture has been characterised using such words as poet, theologian, pedagogue, and even scientist. The initiative for this study is based on Bērziņš’ pedagogical work and research, which resulted in a textbook being an important resource of terminology for Latvian folklore studies. The study is dedicated to the 150-year remembrance of Bērziņš and the 80th anniversary since the publication of his monograph on the metrics and stylistics of folk songs Ievads latviešu tautas dzejā (Introduction to Latvian Folk Poetry, 1940). The article aims to characterise Bērziņš’ book as an important terminology resource for folklore studies by undertaking the following tasks: mapping out the terminological situation of the era and the field, highlighting the power of the author’s research and pedagogical work experience, underpinning the nature of the book while also analysing it as a textbook, highlighting the main features of the book and describing the author’s quest in terms of terminological solutions.

В статье отражены взгляды И. Я. Яковлева на театр и музыку как средства духовно-нравственного и эстетического воспитания личности. Оособое внимание уделено деятельности Симбирской чувашской учительской школы по формированию духовных потребностей и эстетической культуры учащихся путем использования разнообразных видов музыкального и театрального искусств: художественного чтения, исполнения по ролям басен И. А. Крылова, спектаклей по произведениям классиков русской литературы, хорового пения, игры на музыкальных инструментах и др.; проведения различных мероприятий в школе и на концертных площадках г. Симбирска: народных игр с хороводами, литературно-музыкальных вечеров, вечеров литературы и поэзии, театрализованных представлений, посещений городского театра, участия хора и оркестра школы на торжествах по разным случаям в здании Симбирской городской думы и зале Симбирского дворянского собрания, Симбирском епархиальном училище, выступления обучающихся с номерами сокольской гимнастики в сопровождении духового оркестра на городской площади и т. д. Кратко освещена деятельность воспитанников Симбирской чувашской учительской школы и потомков И. Я. Яковлева в области театрального и музыкального искусств.The article considers I. Yakovlev’s views on theater and music as means of spiritual and moral, and also aesthetic education of the individual; pays particular attention to the activities of Simbirsk Chuvash Teachers’ School in the formation of spiritual and aesthetic culture at students through the use of various types of musical and theatrical arts: declamation, dramatization of Krylov’s fables, performances based on the works of classics of the Russian literature, choir singing, playing different musical instruments etc.; various events at school and at concert venues in the city of Simbirsk: folk games, dances, literary and musical events, literature and poetry parties, theatrical performances, visiting the theatre, participation of the school choir and orchestra in celebrations on various occasions in Simbirsk town hall and in the hall of Simbirsk Nobility Assembly, at Simbirsk Diocesan School, students’ Sokol gymnastics performances accompanied by a brass band in the town square. The article briefly covers the activities of the students of Simbirsk Chuvash Teachers’ School and I. Yakovlev’s descendants in the field of the theatrical and musical art.

This variable describes what kind of concept of culture underlies the cultural coverage at a certain point of time or across time. The variable dissects the concept of culture into cultural forms that are being journalistically covered. It presupposes that each article predominantly focuses on one cultural genre or discipline, such as literature, music, or film, which is the case in most articles in the cultural beat that are written according to cultural journalists’ areas of specialization. By identifying the cultural forms covered, the variable delivers an answer to the question of what kind of culture has been covered, or what kind of culture has been represented. Forms of culture are sometimes also called artistic or cultural disciplines (Jaakkola, 2015) or cultural genres (Purhonen et al., 2019), and cultural classification (Janssen et al., 2011) or cultural hierarchy (Schmutz, 2009). The level of detail varies from study to study, according to the need of knowledge, with some scholars tracing forms of subculture (Schmutz et al., 2010), while others just identify the overall development of major cultural forms (Purhonen et al., 2019; Jaakkola, 2015a). The concepts of culture can roughly be defined as being dominated by high cultural, popular cultural, or everyday cultural forms (Kristensen, 2019). While most culture sections in newspapers are dominated by high culture, and the question is rather about which disciplines, in the operationalization it is not always easy to draw lines between high and popular forms in the postmodern cultural landscape where boundaries are being blurred. Nevertheless, the major forms of culture in the journalistic operationalization of culture are literature, classical music, theatre, and fine arts. As certain forms of culture – such as classical music and opera – are focused on classical high culture, and other forms – such as popular music and comics – represent popular forms, distribution of coverage according to cultural forms may indicate changes in the cultural concept. Field of application/theoretical foundation The question of the concept of culture is a standard question in content analyses on arts and cultural journalism in daily newspapers and cultural magazines, posed by a number of studies conducted in different geographical areas and often with a comparative intent (e.g., Szántó et al., 2004; Janssen, 1999; Reus & Harden, 2005; Janssen et al., 2008; Larsen, 2008; Kõnno et al., 2012; Jaakkola, 2015a, 2015b; Verboord & Janssen, 2015; Purhonen et al., 2019; Widholm et al., 2019). The essence of culture has been theorized in cultural studies, predominantly by Raymond Williams (e.g., 2011), and sociologists of art (Kroeber & Kluckhohn, 1952). In studying journalistic coverage of arts and culture, the concept of culture reveals the anatomy of coverage and whether the content is targeting a broader audience (inclusive concept of culture) or a narrow audience (exclusive or elitist concept of culture). A prevalent motivation to study the ontological dimension of cultural coverage is also to trace cultural change, which means that the concept of culture is longitudinally studied (Purhonen et al., 2019). References/combination with other methods of data collection Concept of culture often occurs as a variable to trace cultural change. The variable is typically coupled with other variables, mainly with representational means, i.e., the journalistic genre (Jaakkola, 2015), event type (Stegert, 1998), or author gender (Schmutz, 2009; Jaakkola, 2015b). Quantitative content analyses may also be complemented with qualitative analyses (Purhonen et al., 2019). Sample operationalization Cultural forms are separated according to the production structure (journalists and reviewers specializing in one cultural form typically indicate an increase of coverage for that cultural form). At a general level, the concept of culture can be divided into the following cultural forms: literature, music – which is, according to the newsroom specialization typically roughly categorized into classical and popular music – visual arts, theatre, dance, film, design, architecture and built environment, media, comics, cultural politics, cultural history, arts education, and other. Subcategories can be separated according to the interest and level of knowledge. The variable needs to be sensitive towards local features in journalism and culture. Example study Jaakkola (2015b) Information about Jaakkola, 2015 Author: Maarit Jaakkola Research question/research interest: Examination of the cultural concept across time in culture sections of daily newspapers Object of analysis: Articles/text items on culture pages of five major daily newspapers in Finland 1978–2008 (Aamulehti, Helsingin Sanomat, Kaleva, Savon Sanomat, Turun Sanomat) Timeframe of analysis: 1978–2008, consecutive sample of weeks 7 and 42 in five year intervals (1978, 1983, 1988, 1993, 1998, 2003, 2008) Info about variable Variable name/definition: Concept of culture Unit of analysis: Article/text item Values: Cultural form Description 1. Fiction literature Fiction books: fictional genres such as poetry, literary novels, thrillers, detective novels, children’s literature, etc. 2. Non-fiction literature Non-fiction books: non-fictional genres such as textbooks, memoirs, encyclopedias, etc. 3. Classical music Music of more high-cultural character, such as symphonic music, chamber music, opera, etc. 4. Popular music Music of more popular character, such as pop, rock, hip-hop, folk music, etc. 5. Visual arts Fine arts: painting, drawing, graphical art, sculpture, media art, photography, etc. 6. Theatre Scene art, including musicals (if not treated as music, i.e. in coverage of concerts and albums) 7. Dance Scene art, including ballet (if not treated as music, .e. in coverage of concerts and albums) 8. Film Cinema: fiction, documentary, experimental film, etc. 9. Design Design of artefacts, jewelry, fashion, interiors, graphics, etc. 10. Architecture Design, aesthetics, and planning of built environment 11. Media Television, journalism, Internet, games, etc. 12. Comics Illustrated periodicals 13. Cultural politics Policies, politics, and administration concerning arts and culture in general 14. Cultural history Historical issues and phenomena 15. Education Educational issues concerning different cultural disciplines 16. Other Miscellaneous minor categories, e.g., lifestyle issues (celebrity, gossip, everyday cultural issues), and larger categories developed from within the material can be separated into values of their own Scale: nominal Intercoder reliability: Cohen's kappa > 0.76 (two coders) References Jaakkola, M. (2015a). The contested autonomy of arts and journalism: Change and continuity in the dual professionalism of cultural journalism. Tampere: Tampere University Press. Jaakkola, M. (2015b). Outsourcing views, developing news: Changes of art criticism in Finnish dailies, 1978–2008. Journalism Studies, 16(3), 383–402. Janssen, S. (1999). Art journalism and cultural change: The coverage of the arts in Dutch newspapers 1965–1990. Poetics 26(5–6), 329–348. Janssen, S., Kuipers, G., & Verboord, M. (2008). Cultural globalization and arts journalism: The international orientation of arts and culture coverage in Dutch, French, German, and U.S. newspapers, 1955 to 2005. American Sociological Review, 73(5), 719–740. Janssen, S., Verboord, M., & Kuipers, G. (2011). Comparing cultural classification: High and popular arts in European and U.S. elite newspapers. Kölner Zeitschrift für Soziologie und Sozialpsychologie, 63(51), 139–168. Kõnno, A., Aljas, A., Lõhmus, M., & Kõuts, R. (2012). The centrality of culture in the 20th century Estonian press: A longitudinal study in comparison with Finland and Russia. Nordicom Review, 33(2), 103–117. Kristensen, N. N. (2019). Arts, culture and entertainment coverage. In T. P. Vos & F. Hanusch (Eds.), The international encyclopedia of journalism studies. Wiley-Blackwell. Kroeber, A. L., & Kluckhohn, C. (1952). Culture: A critical review of concepts and definitions. Meridian Books. Larsen, L. O. (2008). Forskyvninger. Kulturdekningen i norske dagsaviser 1964–2005 [Displacements: Cultural coverage in Norwegian dailies 1964–2005]. In K. Knapskog & L.O. Larsen (Eds.), Kulturjournalistikk: pressen og den kulturelle offentligheten (pp. 283–329). Scandinavian Academic Press. Purhonen, S., Heikkilä, R., Karademir Hazir, I., Lauronen, T., Rodríguez, C. F., & Gronow, J. (2019). Enter culture, exit arts? The transformation of cultural hierarchies in European newspaper culture sections, 1960–2010. Routledge. Reus, G., & Harden, L. (2005). Politische ”Kultur”: Eine Längsschnittanalyse des Zeitungsfeuilletons von 1983 bis 2003 [Political ‘culture’: A longitudinal analysis of culture pages, 1983–2003]. Publizistik, 50(2), 153–172. Schmutz, V. (2009). Social and symbolic boundaries in newspaper coverage of music, 1955–2005: Gender and genre in the US, France, Germany, and the Netherlands. Poetics, 37(4), 298–314. Schmutz, V., van Venrooij, A., Janssen, S., & Verboord, M. (2010). Change and continuity in newspaper coverage of popular music since 1955: Evidence from the United States, France, Germany, and the Netherlands. Popular Music and Society, 33(4), 505–515. Stegert, G. (1998). Feuilleton für alle: Strategien im Kulturjournalismus der Presse [Feuilleton for all: Strategies in cultural journalism of the daily press]. Max Niemeyer Verlag. Szántó, A., Levy, D. S., & Tyndall, A. (Eds.). (2004). Reporting the arts II: News coverage of arts and culture in America. National Arts Journalism Program (NAJP). Verboord, M., & Janssen, J. (2015). Arts journalism and its packaging in France, Germany, the Netherlands and the United States, 1955–2005. Journalism Practice, 9(6), 829–852. Widholm, A., Riegert, K., & Roosvall, A. (2019). Abundance or crisis? Transformations in the media ecology of Swedish cultural journalism over four decades. Journalism. Advance online publication August, 6. Journalism. https://doi.org/10.1177/1464884919866077 Williams, R. (2011). Keywords: A vocabulary of culture and society. Routledge. (Original work published 1976).

Pastoral as a kind of poetry is a paradoxical combination of apparent naïveté and sophistication; William Empson refers to ‘the pastoral process of putting the complex into the simple’. The pastoral landscape in its more ideal moments is the stage for simple country folk who lead an easy and uncomplicated life. But landscape and shepherds appear in poems written by sophisticated poets, whose self-consciousness weighs heavily on the figures who speak in their poems. The picture of an idyllic world often conjured up by the words ‘pastoral’ or ‘bucolic’ is a trivializing and selective simplification of the full reading experience offered by the Eclogues. That simple image is presented to the reader in the first five lines of Eclogue 1 in Meliboeus’ description of his friend Tityrus’ happy situation: Tityrus reclines at ease in the shadow of a tree, composing ‘woodland music’ on his rustic pipe and teaching the sympathetic woods to echo the name of his girlfriend Amaryllis. But this description frames Meliboeus’ statement of his own plight: in contrast to his settled friend he is in motion, away from the boundaries of the idyllic Never Never Land, which in line 3 is already redefined with the very Roman word patria. Eclogue 1 quickly bursts the limits of a simple and timeless bucolicism to encompass the historical and social realities of the city of Rome, in the course of a brief exchange of experiences past and anticipated in which the humble herdsman Tityrus meets a man-god, and the smallholder Meliboeus foresees an exile as far distant as Britain (1.66), the limit of Julius Caesar’s imperialist adventuring a decade and a half before the time of composition. The first Eclogue is typical of the collection as a whole in this testing of limits and in the recurrent thwarting of the desire for fulfilment in an enclosed locus amoenus or ‘green cabinet’. Much of the energy and interest of the Eclogues derives from the constant tension between the limiting case of a static pastoral ‘idyll’ and the forces that threaten to destabilize the idyll.

The article deals with a generalized musicological analysis of the songs from two vocal collection series, titled «Kobzar Tarasa Shevchenka» (Taras Shevchenko’s Kobzar) by the 19th century Ukrainian composer of Polish origin Vladyslav Zaremba in order to attract attention to the composer’s creative heritage, reveal the most typical features of his musical language and determine their stylistics in the context of the 19th century musical culture. Also the article attempts to specify the significance of the vocal works collection in the context of developing the Ukrainian romance and the 19th century Ukrainian T. Shevchenko series.The article focuses on the content of vocal compositions associated with typical folk characters, as well as the composer’s vision of his characters’ complex and rich inner world. The article considers the works devoted to the themes of orphanhood, loneliness, alien land, love, typical romantic motives of the Cossack will, sentiments of grief and melancholy, which form the figurative and poetic content of Shevchenko’s poems.The analysis is focused not only on V. Zaremba’s lyrical songs, but also his vocal works, which raise the complex social issues of difficult maidenhood, orphanhood, the search for better life, the main characters’ romantic attempts to realize their dreams and the sad realities. The main attention is focused on the role of the piano, which is interpreted by the composer as an active participant in the dramatic action. However, the piano version of V. Zaremba’s vocal works highlights an extremely important and vivid element of the national sound sphere, namely the imitation of playing the bandura, which performs the semantic role of the national Ukrainian symbol and is perceived as an important component of the national culture. Thus, the conducted analysis allows visualizing the figurative and emotional world of T. Shevchenko’s poetry and deducing the values of the bandura as a semiotic sign in the 19th century Ukrainian musical culture, which will become especially noticeable in M. Lysenko’s works. An important issue in analyzing the composer’s style is the focus on the synthesis of European school achievements with the individual elements of the national school as a certain stage in the development of Ukrainian professional music, which replaces amateurism and dilettantism.

Every act of art is able to reveal, balance and revive the relations between a territory and its inhabitants (François Davin, Southern Forest Sculpture Walk Catalogue)Introducing the Understory Art in Nature TrailIn February 2015, a colossal wildfire destroyed 98,300 hectares of farm and bushland surrounding the town of Northcliffe, located 365 km south of Perth, Western Australia (WA). As the largest fire in the recorded history of the southwest region (Southern Forest Arts, After the Burn 8), the disaster attracted national attention however the extraordinary contribution of local knowledge in saving a town considered by authorities to be “undefendable” (Kennedy) is yet to be widely appreciated. In accounting for a creative scene that survived the conflagration, this case study sees culture mobilised as a socioeconomic resource for conservation and the healing of community spirit.Northcliffe (population 850) sits on a coastal plain that hosts majestic old-growth forest and lush bushland. In 2006, Southern Forest Arts (SFA) dedicated a Southern Forest Sculpture Walk for creative professionals to develop artworks along a 1.2 km walk trail through pristine native forest. It was re-branded “Understory—Art in Nature” in 2009; then “Understory Art in Nature Trail” in 2015, the understory vegetation layer beneath the canopy being symbolic of Northcliffe’s deeply layered caché of memories, including “the awe, love, fear, and even the hatred that these trees have provoked among the settlers” (Davin in SFA Catalogue). In the words of the SFA Trailguide, “Every place (no matter how small) has ‘understories’—secrets, songs, dreams—that help us connect with the spirit of place.”In the view of forest arts ecologist Kumi Kato, “It is a sense of place that underlies the commitment to a place’s conservation by its community, broadly embracing those who identify with the place for various reasons, both geographical and conceptual” (149). In bioregional terms such communities form a terrain of consciousness (Berg and Dasmann 218), extending responsibility for conservation across cultures, time and space (Kato 150). A sustainable thematic of place must also include livelihood as the third party between culture and nature that establishes the relationship between them (Giblett 240). With these concepts in mind I gauge creative impact on forest as place, and, in turn, (altered) forest’s impact on people. My abstraction of physical place is inclusive of humankind moving in dialogic engagement with forest. A mapping of Understory’s creative activities sheds light on how artists express physical environments in situated creative practices, clusters, and networks. These, it is argued, constitute unique types of community operating within (and beyond) a foundational scene of inspiration and mystification that is metaphorically “rising from the ashes.” In transcending disconnectedness between humankind and landscape, Understory may be understood to both culturalise nature (as an aesthetic system), and naturalise culture (as an ecologically modelled system), to build on a trope introduced by Feld (199). Arguably when the bush is cultured in this way it attracts consumers who may otherwise disconnect from nature.The trail (henceforth Understory) broaches the histories of human relations with Northcliffe’s natural systems of place. Sub-groups of the Noongar nation have inhabited the southwest for an estimated 50,000 years and their association with the Northcliffe region extends back at least 6,000 years (SFA Catalogue; see also Crawford and Crawford). An indigenous sense of the spirit of forest is manifest in Understory sculpture, literature, and—for the purpose of this article—the compilation CD Canopy: Songs for the Southern Forests (henceforth Canopy, Figure 1).As a cultural and environmental construction of place, Canopy sustains the land with acts of seeing, listening to, and interpreting nature; of remembering indigenous people in the forest; and of recalling the hardships of the early settlers. I acknowledge SFA coordinator and Understory custodian Fiona Sinclair for authorising this investigation; Peter Hill for conservation conversations; Robyn Johnston for her Canopy CD sleeve notes; Della Rae Morrison for permissions; and David Pye for discussions. Figure 1. Canopy: Songs for the Southern Forests (CD, 2006). Cover image by Raku Pitt, 2002. Courtesy Southern Forest Arts, Northcliffe, WA.Forest Ecology, Emotion, and ActionEstablished in 1924, Northcliffe’s ill-founded Group Settlement Scheme resulted in frontier hardship and heartbreak, and deforestation of the southwest region for little economic return. An historic forest controversy (1992-2001) attracted media to Northcliffe when protesters attempting to disrupt logging chained themselves to tree trunks and suspended themselves from branches. The signing of the Western Australian Regional Forest Agreement in 1999 was followed, in 2001, by deregulation of the dairy industry and a sharp decline in area population.Moved by the gravity of this situation, Fiona Sinclair won her pitch to the Manjimup Council for a sound alternative industry for Northcliffe with projections of jobs: a forest where artists could work collectively and sustainably to reveal the beauty of natural dimensions. A 12-acre pocket of allocated Crown Land adjacent to the town was leased as an A-Class Reserve vested for Education and Recreation, for which SFA secured unified community ownership and grants. Conservation protocols stipulated that no biomass could be removed from the forest and that predominantly raw, natural materials were to be used (F. Sinclair and P. Hill, personal interview, 26 Sep. 2014). With forest as prescribed image (wider than the bounded chunk of earth), Sinclair invited the artists to consider the themes of spirituality, creativity, history, dichotomy, and sensory as a basis for work that was to be “fresh, intimate, and grounded in place.” Her brief encouraged artists to work with humanity and imagination to counteract residual community divisiveness and resentment. Sinclair describes this form of implicit environmentalism as an “around the back” approach that avoids lapsing into political commentary or judgement: “The trail is a love letter from those of us who live here to our visitors, to connect with grace” (F. Sinclair, telephone interview, 6 Apr. 2014). Renewing community connections to local place is essential if our lives and societies are to become more sustainable (Pedelty 128). To define Northcliffe’s new community phase, artists respected differing associations between people and forest. A structure on a karri tree by Indigenous artist Norma MacDonald presents an Aboriginal man standing tall and proud on a rock to become one with the tree and the forest: as it was for thousands of years before European settlement (MacDonald in SFA Catalogue). As Feld observes, “It is the stabilizing persistence of place as a container of experiences that contributes so powerfully to its intrinsic memorability” (201).Adhering to the philosophy that nature should not be used or abused for the sake of art, the works resonate with the biorhythms of the forest, e.g. functional seats and shelters and a cascading retainer that directs rainwater back to the resident fauna. Some sculptures function as receivers for picking up wavelengths of ancient forest. Forest Folk lurk around the understory, while mysterious stone art represents a life-shaping force of planet history. To represent the reality of bushfire, Natalie Williamson’s sculpture wraps itself around a burnt-out stump. The work plays with scale as small native sundew flowers are enlarged and a subtle beauty, easily overlooked, becomes apparent (Figure 2). The sculptor hopes that “spiders will spin their webs about it, incorporating it into the landscape” (SFA Catalogue).Figure 2. Sundew. Sculpture by Natalie Williamson, 2006. Understory Art in Nature Trail, Northcliffe, WA. Image by the author, 2014.Memory is naturally place-oriented or at least place-supported (Feld 201). Topaesthesia (sense of place) denotes movement that connects our biography with our route. This is resonant for the experience of regional character, including the tactile, olfactory, gustatory, visual, and auditory qualities of a place (Ryan 307). By walking, we are in a dialogue with the environment; both literally and figuratively, we re-situate ourselves into our story (Schine 100). For example, during a summer exploration of the trail (5 Jan. 2014), I intuited a personal attachment based on my grandfather’s small bush home being razed by fire, and his struggle to support seven children.Understory’s survival depends on vigilant controlled (cool) burns around its perimeter (Figure 3), organised by volunteer Peter Hill. These burns also hone the forest. On 27 Sept. 2014, the charred vegetation spoke a spring language of opportunity for nature to reassert itself as seedpods burst and continue the cycle; while an autumn walk (17 Mar. 2016) yielded a fresh view of forest colour, patterning, light, shade, and sound.Figure 3. Understory Art in Nature Trail. Map Created by Fiona Sinclair for Southern Forest Sculpture Walk Catalogue (2006). Courtesy Southern Forest Arts, Northcliffe, WA.Understory and the Melody of CanopyForest resilience is celebrated in five MP3 audio tours produced for visitors to dialogue with the trail in sensory contexts of music, poetry, sculptures and stories that name or interpret the setting. The trail starts in heathland and includes three creek crossings. A zone of acacias gives way to stands of the southwest signature trees karri (Eucalyptus diversicolor), jarrah (Eucalyptus marginata), and marri (Corymbia calophylla). Following a sheoak grove, a riverine environment re-enters heathland. Birds, insects, mammals, and reptiles reside around and between the sculptures, rendering the earth-embedded art a fusion of human and natural orders (concept after Relph 141). On Audio Tour 3, Songs for the Southern Forests, the musician-composers reflect on their regionally focused items, each having been birthed according to a personal musical concept (the manner in which an individual artist holds the totality of a composition in cultural context). Arguably the music in question, its composers, performers, audiences, and settings, all have a role to play in defining the processes and effects of forest arts ecology. Local musician Ann Rice billeted a cluster of musicians (mostly from Perth) at her Windy Harbour shack. The energy of the production experience was palpable as all participated in on-site forest workshops, and supported each other’s items as a musical collective (A. Rice, telephone interview, 2 Oct. 2014). Collaborating under producer Lee Buddle’s direction, they orchestrated rich timbres (tone colours) to evoke different musical atmospheres (Table 1). Composer/Performer Title of TrackInstrumentation1. Ann RiceMy Placevocals/guitars/accordion 2. David PyeCicadan Rhythmsangklung/violin/cello/woodblocks/temple blocks/clarinet/tapes 3. Mel RobinsonSheltervocal/cello/double bass 4. DjivaNgank Boodjakvocals/acoustic, electric and slide guitars/drums/percussion 5. Cathie TraversLamentaccordion/vocals/guitar/piano/violin/drums/programming 6. Brendon Humphries and Kevin SmithWhen the Wind First Blewvocals/guitars/dobro/drums/piano/percussion 7. Libby HammerThe Gladevocal/guitar/soprano sax/cello/double bass/drums 8. Pete and Dave JeavonsSanctuaryguitars/percussion/talking drum/cowbell/soprano sax 9. Tomás FordWhite Hazevocal/programming/guitar 10. David HyamsAwakening /Shaking the Tree /When the Light Comes guitar/mandolin/dobro/bodhran/rainstick/cello/accordion/flute 11. Bernard CarneyThe Destiny Waltzvocal/guitar/accordion/drums/recording of The Destiny Waltz 12. Joel BarkerSomething for Everyonevocal/guitars/percussion Table 1. Music Composed for Canopy: Songs for the Southern Forests.Source: CD sleeve and http://www.understory.com.au/art.php. Composing out of their own strengths, the musicians transformed the geographic region into a living myth. As Pedelty has observed of similar musicians, “their sounds resonate because they so profoundly reflect our living sense of place” (83-84). The remainder of this essay evidences the capacity of indigenous song, art music, electronica, folk, and jazz-blues to celebrate, historicise, or re-imagine place. Firstly, two items represent the phenomenological approach of site-specific sensitivity to acoustic, biological, and cultural presence/loss, including the materiality of forest as a living process.“Singing Up the Land”In Aboriginal Australia “there is no place that has not been imaginatively grasped through song, dance and design, no place where traditional owners cannot see the imprint of sacred creation” (Rose 18). Canopy’s part-Noongar language song thus repositions the ancient Murrum-Noongar people within their life-sustaining natural habitat and spiritual landscape.Noongar Yorga woman Della Rae Morrison of the Bibbulmun and Wilman nations co-founded The Western Australian Nuclear Free Alliance to campaign against the uranium mining industry threatening Ngank Boodjak (her country, “Mother Earth”) (D.R. Morrison, e-mail, 15 July 2014). In 2004, Morrison formed the duo Djiva (meaning seed power or life force) with Jessie Lloyd, a Murri woman of the Guugu Yimidhirr Nation from North Queensland. After discerning the fundamental qualities of the Understory site, Djiva created the song Ngank Boodjak: “This was inspired by walking the trail […] feeling the energy of the land and the beautiful trees and hearing the birds. When I find a spot that I love, I try to feel out the lay-lines, which feel like vortexes of energy coming out of the ground; it’s pretty amazing” (Morrison in SFA Canopy sleeve) Stanza 1 points to the possibilities of being more fully “in country”:Ssh!Ni dabarkarn kooliny, ngank boodja kookoorninyListen, walk slowly, beautiful Mother EarthThe inclusion of indigenous language powerfully implements an indigenous interpretation of forest: “My elders believe that when we leave this life from our physical bodies that our spirit is earthbound and is living in the rocks or the trees and if you listen carefully you might hear their voices and maybe you will get some answers to your questions” (Morrison in SFA Catalogue).Cicadan Rhythms, by composer David Pye, echoes forest as a lively “more-than-human” world. Pye took his cue from the ambient pulsing of male cicadas communicating in plenum (full assembly) by means of airborne sound. The species were sounding together in tempo with individual rhythm patterns that interlocked to create one fantastic rhythm (Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Composer David Pye). The cicada chorus (the loudest known lovesong in the insect world) is the unique summer soundmark (term coined by Truax Handbook, Website) of the southern forests. Pye chased various cicadas through Understory until he was able to notate the rhythms of some individuals in a patch of low-lying scrub.To simulate cicada clicking, the composer set pointillist patterns for Indonesian anklung (joint bamboo tubes suspended within a frame to produce notes when the frame is shaken or tapped). Using instruments made of wood to enhance the rich forest imagery, Pye created all parts using sampled instrumental sounds placed against layers of pre-recorded ambient sounds (D. Pye, telephone interview, 3 Sept. 2014). He takes the listener through a “geographical linear representation” of the trail: “I walked around it with a stopwatch and noted how long it took to get through each section of the forest, and that became the musical timing of the various parts of the work” (Pye in SFA Canopy sleeve). That Understory is a place where reciprocity between nature and culture thrives is, likewise, evident in the remaining tracks.Musicalising Forest History and EnvironmentThree tracks distinguish Canopy as an integrative site for memory. Bernard Carney’s waltz honours the Group Settlers who battled insurmountable terrain without any idea of their destiny, men who, having migrated with a promise of owning their own dairy farms, had to clear trees bare-handedly and build furniture from kerosene tins and gelignite cases. Carney illuminates the culture of Saturday night dancing in the schoolroom to popular tunes like The Destiny Waltz (performed on the Titanic in 1912). His original song fades to strains of the Victor Military Band (1914), to “pay tribute to the era where the inspiration of the song came from” (Carney in SFA Canopy sleeve). Likewise Cathie Travers’s Lament is an evocation of remote settler history that creates a “feeling of being in another location, other timezone, almost like an endless loop” (Travers in SFA Canopy sleeve).An instrumental medley by David Hyams opens with Awakening: the morning sun streaming through tall trees, and the nostalgic sound of an accordion waltz. Shaking the Tree, an Irish jig, recalls humankind’s struggle with forest and the forces of nature. A final title, When the Light Comes, defers to the saying by conservationist John Muir that “The wrongs done to trees, wrongs of every sort, are done in the darkness of ignorance and unbelief, for when the light comes the heart of the people is always right” (quoted by Hyams in SFA Canopy sleeve). Local musician Joel Barker wrote Something for Everyone to personify the old-growth karri as a king with a crown, with “wisdom in his bones.”Kevin Smith’s father was born in Northcliffe in 1924. He and Brendon Humphries fantasise the untouchability of a maiden (pre-human) moment in a forest in their song, When the Wind First Blew. In Libby Hammer’s The Glade (a lover’s lament), instrumental timbres project their own affective languages. The jazz singer intended the accompanying double bass to speak resonantly of old-growth forest; the cello to express suppleness and renewal; a soprano saxophone to impersonate a bird; and the drums to imitate the insect community’s polyrhythmic undercurrent (after Hammer in SFA Canopy sleeve).A hybrid aural environment of synthetic and natural forest sounds contrasts collision with harmony in Sanctuary. The Jeavons Brothers sampled rustling wind on nearby Mt Chudalup to absorb into the track’s opening, and crafted a snare groove for the quirky eco-jazz/trip-hop by banging logs together, and banging rocks against logs. This imaginative use of percussive found objects enhanced their portrayal of forest as “a living, breathing entity.”In dealing with recent history in My Place, Ann Rice cameos a happy childhood growing up on a southwest farm, “damming creeks, climbing trees, breaking bones and skinning knees.” The rich string harmonies of Mel Robinson’s Shelter sculpt the shifting environment of a brewing storm, while White Haze by Tomás Ford describes a smoky controlled burn as “a kind of metaphor for the beautiful mystical healing nature of Northcliffe”: Someone’s burning off the scrubSomeone’s making sure it’s safeSomeone’s whiting out the fearSomeone’s letting me breathe clearAs Sinclair illuminates in a post-fire interview with Sharon Kennedy (Website):When your map, your personal map of life involves a place, and then you think that that place might be gone…” Fiona doesn't finish the sentence. “We all had to face the fact that our little place might disappear." Ultimately, only one house was lost. Pasture and fences, sheds and forest are gone. Yet, says Fiona, “We still have our town. As part of SFA’s ongoing commission, forest rhythm workshops explore different sound properties of potential materials for installing sound sculptures mimicking the surrounding flora and fauna. In 2015, SFA mounted After the Burn (a touring photographic exhibition) and Out of the Ashes (paintings and woodwork featuring ash, charcoal, and resin) (SFA, After the Burn 116). The forthcoming community project Rising From the Ashes will commemorate the fire and allow residents to connect and create as they heal and move forward—ten years on from the foundation of Understory.ConclusionThe Understory Art in Nature Trail stimulates curiosity. It clearly illustrates links between place-based social, economic and material conditions and creative practices and products within a forest that has both given shelter and “done people in.” The trail is an experimental field, a transformative locus in which dedicated physical space frees artists to culturalise forest through varied aesthetic modalities. Conversely, forest possesses agency for naturalising art as a symbol of place. Djiva’s song Ngank Boodjak “sings up the land” to revitalise the timelessness of prior occupation, while David Pye’s Cicadan Rhythms foregrounds the seasonal cycle of entomological music.In drawing out the richness and significance of place, the ecologically inspired album Canopy suggests that the community identity of a forested place may be informed by cultural, economic, geographical, and historical factors as well as endemic flora and fauna. Finally, the musical representation of place is not contingent upon blatant forms of environmentalism. The portrayals of Northcliffe respectfully associate Western Australian people and forests, yet as a place, the town has become an enduring icon for the plight of the Universal Old-growth Forest in all its natural glory, diverse human uses, and (real or perceived) abuses.ReferencesAustralian Broadcasting Commission. “Canopy: Songs for the Southern Forests.” Into the Music. Prod. Robyn Johnston. Radio National, 5 May 2007. 12 Aug. 2014 <http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/intothemusic/canopy-songs-for-the-southern-forests/3396338>.———. “Composer David Pye.” Interview with Andrew Ford. The Music Show, Radio National, 12 Sep. 2009. 30 Jan. 2015 <http://canadapodcasts.ca/podcasts/MusicShowThe/1225021>.Berg, Peter, and Raymond Dasmann. “Reinhabiting California.” Reinhabiting a Separate Country: A Bioregional Anthology of Northern California. Ed. Peter Berg. San Francisco: Planet Drum, 1978. 217-20.Crawford, Patricia, and Ian Crawford. Contested Country: A History of the Northcliffe Area, Western Australia. Perth: UWA P, 2003.Feld, Steven. 2001. “Lift-Up-Over Sounding.” The Book of Music and Nature: An Anthology of Sounds, Words, Thoughts. Ed. David Rothenberg and Marta Ulvaeus. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2001. 193-206.Giblett, Rod. People and Places of Nature and Culture. Bristol: Intellect, 2011.Kato, Kumi. “Addressing Global Responsibility for Conservation through Cross-Cultural Collaboration: Kodama Forest, a Forest of Tree Spirits.” The Environmentalist 28.2 (2008): 148-54. 15 Apr. 2014 <http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10669-007-9051-6#page-1>.Kennedy, Sharon. “Local Knowledge Builds Vital Support Networks in Emergencies.” ABC South West WA, 10 Mar. 2015. 26 Mar. 2015 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2015/03/09/4193981.htm?site=southwestwa>.Morrison, Della Rae. E-mail. 15 July 2014.Pedelty, Mark. Ecomusicology: Rock, Folk, and the Environment. Philadelphia, PA: Temple UP, 2012.Pye, David. Telephone interview. 3 Sep. 2014.Relph, Edward. Place and Placelessness. London: Pion, 1976.Rice, Ann. Telephone interview. 2 Oct. 2014.Rose, Deborah Bird. Nourishing Terrains: Australian Aboriginal Views of Landscape and Wilderness. Australian Heritage Commission, 1996.Ryan, John C. Green Sense: The Aesthetics of Plants, Place and Language. Oxford: Trueheart Academic, 2012.Schine, Jennifer. “Movement, Memory and the Senses in Soundscape Studies.” Canadian Acoustics: Journal of the Canadian Acoustical Association 38.3 (2010): 100-01. 12 Apr. 2016 <http://jcaa.caa-aca.ca/index.php/jcaa/article/view/2264>.Sinclair, Fiona. Telephone interview. 6 Apr. 2014.Sinclair, Fiona, and Peter Hill. Personal Interview. 26 Sep. 2014.Southern Forest Arts. Canopy: Songs for the Southern Forests. CD coordinated by Fiona Sinclair. Recorded and produced by Lee Buddle. Sleeve notes by Robyn Johnston. West Perth: Sound Mine Studios, 2006.———. Southern Forest Sculpture Walk Catalogue. Northcliffe, WA, 2006. Unpaginated booklet.———. Understory—Art in Nature. 2009. 12 Apr. 2016 <http://www.understory.com.au/>.———. Trailguide. Understory. Presented by Southern Forest Arts, n.d.———. After the Burn: Stories, Poems and Photos Shared by the Local Community in Response to the 2015 Northcliffe and Windy Harbour Bushfire. 2nd ed. Ed. Fiona Sinclair. Northcliffe, WA., 2016.Truax, Barry, ed. Handbook for Acoustic Ecology. 2nd ed. Cambridge Street Publishing, 1999. 10 Apr. 2016 <http://www.sfu.ca/sonic-studio/handbook/Soundmark.html>.

The traditional German tale of the Pied Piper of Hamelin inhabits an ambiguous narrative borderland, a liminal space between fact and fiction, fantasy and horror, concrete details and elusive mystery. In his study of the Pied Piper in Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature, Wolfgang Mieder describes how manuscripts and other evidence appear to confirm the historical base of the story. Precise details from a fifteenth-century manuscript, based on earlier sources, specify that in 1284 on the 26th of June, the feast-day of Saints John and Paul, 130 children from Hamelin were led away by a piper clothed in many colours to the Koppen Hill, and there vanished (Mieder 48). Later manuscripts add details familiar today, such as a plague of rats and a broken bargain with burghers as a motive for the Piper’s actions, while in the seventeenth century the first English-language version advances what might also be the first attempt at a “rational” explanation for the children’s disappearance, claiming that they were taken to Transylvania. The uncommon pairing of such precise factual detail with enigmatic mystery has encouraged many theories. These have ranged from references to the Children’s Crusade, or other religious fervours, to the devastation caused by the Black Death, from the colonisation of Romania by young German migrants to a murderous rampage by a paedophile. Fictional interpretations of the story have multiplied, with the classic versions of the Brothers Grimm and Robert Browning being most widely known, but with contemporary creators exploring the theme too. This includes interpretations in Hamelin itself. On 26 June 2015, in Hamelin Museum, I watched a wordless five-minute play, entirely performed not by humans but by animatronic stylised figures built out of scrap iron, against a montage of multilingual, confused voices and eerie music, with the vanished children represented by a long line of small empty shirts floating by. The uncanny, liminal nature of the story was perfectly captured. Australia is a world away from German fairy tale mysteries, historically, geographically, and culturally. Yet, as Lisa M. Fiander has persuasively argued, contemporary Australian fiction has been more influenced by fairy tales than might be assumed, and in this essay it is proposed that major motifs from the Pied Piper appear in several Australian novels, transformed not only by distance of setting and time from that of the original narrative, but also by elements specific to the Australian imaginative space. These motifs are lost children, the enigmatic figure of the Piper himself, and the power of a very particular place (as Hamelin and its Koppen Hill are particularised in the original tale). Three major Australian novels will be examined in this essay: Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967), Christopher Koch’s The Doubleman (1985), and Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011). Dubosarsky’s novel was written for children; both Koch’s and Lindsay’s novels were published as adult fiction. In each of these works of fiction, the original tale’s motifs have been developed and transformed to express unique evocations of the Pied Piper theme. As noted by Fiander, fiction writers are “most likely to draw upon fairy tales when they are framing, in writing, a subject that generates anxiety in their culture” (158). Her analysis is about anxieties of place within Australian fiction, but this insight could be usefully extended to the motifs which I have identified as inherent in the Pied Piper story. Prominent among these is the lost children motif, whose importance in the Australian imagination has been well-established by scholars such as Peter Pierce. Pierce’s The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety explores this preoccupation from the earliest beginnings of European settlement, through analysis of fiction, newspaper reports, paintings, and films. As Pierce observed in a later interview in the Sydney Morning Herald (Knox), over time the focus changed from rural children and the nineteenth-century fear of the vast impersonal nature of the bush, where children of colonists could easily get lost, to urban children and the contemporary fear of human predators.In each of the three novels under examination in this essay, lost children—whether literal or metaphorical—feature prominently. Writer Carmel Bird, whose fiction has also frequently centred on the theme of the lost child, observes in “Dreaming the Place” that the lost child, the stolen child – this must be a narrative that is lodged in the heart and imagination, nightmare and dream, of all human beings. In Australia the nightmare became reality. The child is the future, and if the child goes, there can be no future. The true stories and the folk tales on this theme are mirror images of each other. (7) The motif of lost children—and of children in danger—is not unique to the Pied Piper. Other fairy tales, such as Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood, contain it, and it is those antecedents which Bird cites in her essay. But within the Pied Piper story it has three features which distinguish it from other traditional tales. First, unlike in the classic versions of Hansel and Gretel or Red Riding Hood, the children do not return. Neither are there bodies to find. The children have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. Second, it is not only parents who have lost them, but an entire community whose future has been snatched away: a community once safe, ordered, even complacent, traumatised by loss. The lack of hope, of a happy ending for anyone, is striking. And thirdly, the children are not lost or abandoned or even, strictly speaking, stolen: they are lured away, semi-willingly, by the central yet curiously marginal figure of the Piper himself. In the original story there is no mention of motive and no indication of malice on the part of the Piper. There is only his inexplicable presence, a figure out of fairy folklore appearing in the midst of concrete historical dates and numbers. Clearly, he links to the liminal, complex world of the fairies, found in folklore around the world—beings from a world close to the human one, yet alien. Whimsical and unpredictable by human standards, such beings are nevertheless bound by mysteriously arbitrary rules and taboos, and haunt the borders of the human world, disturbing its rational edges and transforming lives forever. It is this sense of disturbance, that enchanting yet frightening sudden shifting of the border of reality and of the comforting order of things, the essence of transformation itself, which can also be seen at the core of the three novels under examination in this essay, with the Piper represented in each of them but in different ways. The third motif within the Pied Piper is a focus on place as a source of uncanny power, a theme which particularly resonates within an Australian context. Fiander argues that if contemporary British fiction writers use fairy tale to explore questions of community and alienation, and Canadian fiction writers use it to explore questions of identity, then Australian writers use it to explore the unease of place. She writes of the enduring legacy of Australia’s history “as a settler colony which invests the landscape with strangeness for many protagonists” (157). Furthermore, she suggests that “when Australian fiction writers, using fairy tales, describe the landscape as divorced from reality, they might be signalling anxiety about their own connection with the land which had already seen tens of thousands of years of occupation when Captain James Cook ‘found’ it in 1770” (160). I would argue, however, that in the case of the Pied Piper motifs, it is less clear that it is solely settler anxieties which are driving the depiction of the power of place in these three novels. There is no divorce from reality here, but rather an eruption of the metaphysical potency of place within the usual, “normal” order of reality. This follows the pattern of the original tale, where the Piper and all the children, except for one or two stragglers, disappear at Koppen Hill, vanishing literally into the hill itself. In traditional European folklore, hollow hills are associated with fairies and their uncanny power, but other places, especially those of water—springs, streams, even the sea—may also be associated with their liminal world (in the original tale, the River Weser is another important locus for power). In Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock, it is another outcrop in the landscape which holds that power and claims the “lost children.” Inspired partly by a painting by nineteenth-century Australian artist William Ford, titled At the Hanging Rock (1875), depicting a group of elegant people picnicking in the bush, this influential novel, which inspired an equally successful film adaptation, revolves around an incident in 1900 when four girls from Appleyard College, an exclusive school in Victoria, disappear with one of their teachers whilst climbing Hanging Rock, where they have gone for a picnic. Only one of their number, a girl called Irma, is ever found, and she has no memory of how and why she found herself on the Rock, and what has happened to the others. This inexplicable event is the precursor to a string of tragedies which leads to the violent deaths of several people, and which transforms the sleepy and apparently content little community around Appleyard College into a centre of loss, horror, and scandal.Told in a way which makes it appear that the novelist is merely recounting a true story—Lindsay even tells readers in an author’s note that they must decide for themselves if it is fact or fiction—Picnic at Hanging Rock shares the disturbingly liminal fact-fiction territory of the Piper tale. Many readers did in fact believe that the novel was based on historical events and combed newspaper files, attempting to propound ingenious “rational” explanations for what happened on the Rock. Picnic at Hanging Rock has been the subject of many studies, with the novel being analysed through various prisms, including the Gothic, the pastoral, historiography, and philosophy. In “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush,” Kathleen Steele has depicted Picnic at Hanging Rock as embodying the idea that “Ordered ‘civilisation’ cannot overcome the gothic landscapes of settler imaginations: landscapes where time and people disappear” (44). She proposes that Lindsay intimates that the landscape swallows the “lost children” of the novel because there is a great absence in that place: that of Aboriginal people. In this reading of the novel, it is that absence which becomes, in a sense, a malevolent presence that will reach out beyond the initial disappearance of the three people on the Rock to destroy the bonds that held the settler community together. It is a powerfully-made argument, which has been taken up by other scholars and writers, including studies which link the theme of the novel with real-life lost-children cases such as that of Azaria Chamberlain, who disappeared near another “Rock” of great Indigenous metaphysical potency—Uluru, or Ayers Rock. However, to date there has been little exploration of the fairy tale quality of the novel, and none at all of the striking ways in which it evokes Pied Piper motifs, whilst transforming them to suit the exigencies of its particular narrative world. The motif of lost children disappearing from an ordered, safe, even complacent community into a place of mysterious power is extended into an exploration of the continued effects of those disappearances, depicting the disastrous impact on those left behind and the wider community in a way that the original tale does not. There is no literal Pied Piper figure in this novel, though various theories are evoked by characters as to who might have lured the girls and their teacher, and who might be responsible for the disappearances. Instead, there is a powerful atmosphere of inevitability and enchantment within the landscape itself which both illustrates the potency of place, and exemplifies the Piper’s hold on his followers. In Picnic at Hanging Rock, place and Piper are synonymous: the Piper has been transformed into the land itself. Yet this is not the “vast impersonal bush,” nor is it malevolent or vengeful. It is a living, seductive metaphysical presence: “Everything, if only you could see it clearly enough, is beautiful and complete . . .” (Lindsay 35). Just as in the original tale, the lost children follow the “Piper” willingly, without regret. Their disappearance is a happiness to them, in that moment, as it is for the lost children of Hamelin, and quite unlike how it must be for those torn apart by that loss—the community around Appleyard, the townspeople of Hamelin. Music, long associated with fairy “takings,” is also a subtle feature of the story. In the novel, just before the luring, Irma hears a sound like the beating of far-off drums. In the film, which more overtly evokes fairy tale elements than does the novel, it is noteworthy that the music at that point is based on traditional tunes for Pan-pipes, played by the great Romanian piper Gheorge Zamfir. The ending of the novel, with questions left unanswered, and lives blighted by the forever-inexplicable, may be seen as also following the trajectory of the original tale. Readers as much as the fictional characters are left with an enigma that continues to perplex and inspire. Picnic at Hanging Rock was one of the inspirations for another significant Australian fiction, this time a contemporary novel for children. Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011) is an elegant and subtle short novel, set in Sydney at an exclusive girls’ school, in 1967. Like the earlier novel, The Golden Day is also partly inspired by visual art, in this case the Schoolgirl series of paintings by Charles Blackman. Combining a fairy tale atmosphere with historical details—the Vietnam War, the hanging of Ronald Ryan, the drowning of Harold Holt—the story is told through the eyes of several girls, especially one, known as Cubby. The Golden Day echoes the core narrative patterns of the earlier novel, but intriguingly transformed: a group of young girls goes with their teacher on an outing to a mysterious place (in this case, a cave on the beach—note the potent elements of rock and water, combined), and something inexplicable happens which results in a disappearance. Only this time, the girls are much younger than the characters of Lindsay’s novel, pre-pubertal in fact at eleven years old, and it is their teacher, a young, idealistic woman known only as Miss Renshaw, who disappears, apparently into thin air, with only an amber bead from her necklace ever found. But it is not only Miss Renshaw who vanishes: the other is a poet and gardener named Morgan who is also Miss Renshaw’s secret lover. Later, with the revelation of a dark past, he is suspected in absentia of being responsible for Miss Renshaw’s vanishment, with implications of rape and murder, though her body is never found. Morgan, who could partly figure as the Piper, is described early on in the novel as having “beautiful eyes, soft, brown, wet with tears, like a stuffed toy” (Dubosarsky 11). This disarming image may seem a world away from the ambiguously disturbing figure of the legendary Piper, yet not only does it fit with the children’s naïve perception of the world, it also echoes the fact that the children in the original story were not afraid of the Piper, but followed him willingly. However, that is complicated by the fact that Morgan does not lure the children; it is Miss Renshaw who follows him—and the children follow her, who could be seen as the other half of the Piper. The Golden Day similarly transforms the other Piper motifs in its own original way. The children are only literally lost for a short time, when their teacher vanishes and they are left to make their own way back from the cave; yet it could be argued that metaphorically, the girls are “lost” to childhood from that moment, in terms of never being able to go back to the state of innocence in which they were before that day. Their safe, ordered school community will never be the same again, haunted by the inexplicability of the events of that day. Meanwhile, the exploration of Australian place—the depiction of the Memorial Gardens where Miss Renshaw enjoins them to write poetry, the uncomfortable descent over rocks to the beach, and the fateful cave—is made through the eyes of children, not the adolescents and adults of Picnic at Hanging Rock. The girls are not yet in that liminal space which is adolescence and so their impressions of what the places represent are immediate, instinctive, yet confused. They don’t like the cave and can’t wait to get out of it, whereas the beach inspires them with a sense of freedom and the gardens with a sense of enchantment. But in each place, those feelings are mixed both with ordinary concerns and with seemingly random associations that are nevertheless potently evocative. For example, in the cave, Cubby senses a threateningly weightless atmosphere, a feeling of reality shifting, which she associates, apparently confusedly, with the hanging of Ronald Ryan, reported that very day. In this way, Dubosarsky subtly gestures towards the sinister inevitability of the following events, and creates a growing tension that will eventually fade but never fully dissipate. At the end, the novel takes an unexpected turn which is as destabilising as the ending of the Pied Piper story, and as open-ended in its transformative effects as the original tale: “And at that moment Cubby realised she was not going to turn into the person she had thought she would become. There was something inside her head now that would make her a different person, though she scarcely understood what it was” (Dubosarsky 148). The eruption of the uncanny into ordinary life will never leave her now, as it will never leave the other girls who followed Miss Renshaw and Morgan into the literally hollow hill of the cave and emerged alone into a transformed world. It isn’t just childhood that Cubby has lost but also any possibility of a comforting sense of the firm borders of reality. As in the Pied Piper, ambiguity and loss combine to create questions which cannot be logically answered, only dimly apprehended.Christopher Koch’s 1985 novel The Doubleman, winner of the Miles Franklin Award, also explores the power of place and the motif of lost children, but unlike the other two novels examined in this essay depicts an actual “incarnated” Piper motif in the mysteriously powerful figure of Clive Broderick, brilliant guitarist and charismatic teacher/guru, whose office, significantly, is situated in a subterranean space of knowledge—a basement room beneath a bookshop. Both central yet peripheral to the main action of the novel, touched with hints of the supernatural which never veer into overt fantasy, Broderick remains an enigma to the end. Set, like The Golden Day, in the 1960s, The Doubleman is narrated in the first person by Richard Miller, in adulthood a producer of a successful folk-rock group, the Rymers, but in childhood an imaginative, troubled polio survivor, with a crutch and a limp. It is noteworthy here that in the Grimms’ version of the Pied Piper, two children are left behind, despite following the Piper: one is blind, one is lame. And it is the lame boy who tells the townspeople what he glimpsed at Koppen Hill. In creating the character of Broderick, the author blends the traditional tropes of the Piper figure with Mephistophelian overtones and a strong influence from fairy lore, specifically the idea of the “doubleman,” here drawn from the writings of seventeenth-century Scottish pastor, the Reverend Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle. Kirk’s 1691 book The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies is the earliest known serious attempt at objective description of the fairy beliefs of Gaelic-speaking Highlanders. His own precisely dated life-story and ambiguous end—it is said he did not die but is forever a prisoner of the fairies—has eerie parallels to the Piper story. “And there is the uncanny, powerful and ambiguous fact of the matter. Here is a man, named, born, lived, who lived a fairy story, really lived it: and in the popular imagination, he lives still” (Masson).Both in his creative and his non-fiction work Koch frequently evoked what he called “the Otherland,” which he depicted as a liminal, ambiguous, destabilising but nevertheless very real and potent presence only thinly veiled by the everyday world. This Otherland is not the same in all his fictions, but is always part of an actual place, whether that be Java in The Year of Living Dangerously, Hobart and Sydney in The Doubleman, Tasmania, Vietnam and Cambodia in Highways to a War, and Ireland and Tasmania in Out of Ireland. It is this sense of the “Otherland” below the surface, a fairy tale, mythical realm beyond logic or explanation, which gives his work its distinctive and particular power. And in The Doubleman, this motif, set within a vividly evoked real world, complete with precise period detail, transforms the Piper figure into one which could easily appear in a Hobart lane, yet which loses none of its uncanny potency. As Noel Henricksen writes in his study of Koch’s work, Island and Otherland, “Behind the membrane of Hobart is Otherland, its manifestations a spectrum stretched between the mystical and the spiritually perverted” (213).This is Broderick’s first appearance, described through twelve-year-old Richard Miller’s eyes: Tall and thin in his long dark overcoat, he studied me for the whole way as he approached, his face absolutely serious . . . The man made me uneasy to a degree for which there seemed to be no explanation . . . I was troubled by the notion that he was no ordinary man going to work at all: that he was not like other people, and that his interest couldn’t be explained so simply. (Koch, Doubleman 3)That first encounter is followed by another, more disturbing still, when Broderick speaks to the boy, eyes fixed on him: “. . . hooded by drooping lids, they were entirely without sympathy, yet nevertheless interested, and formidably intelligent” (5).The sense of danger that Broderick evokes in the boy could be explained by a sinister hint of paedophilia. But though Broderick is a predator of sorts on young people, nothing is what it seems; no rational explanation encompasses the strange effect of his presence. It is not until Richard is a young man, in the company of his musical friend Brian Brady, that he comes across Broderick again. The two young men are looking in the window of a music shop, when Broderick appears beside them, and as Richard observes, just as in a fairy tale, “He didn’t seem to have changed or aged . . .” (44). But the shock of his sudden re-appearance is mixed with something else now, as Broderick engages Brady in conversation, ignoring Richard, “. . . as though I had failed some test, all that time ago, and the man had no further use for me” (45).What happens next, as Broderick demonstrates his musical prowess, becomes Brady’s teacher, and introduces them to his disciple, young bass player Darcy Burr, will change the young men’s lives forever and set them on a path that leads both to great success and to living nightmare, even after Broderick’s apparent disappearance, for Burr will take on the Piper’s mantle. Koch’s depiction of the lost children motif is distinctively different to the other two novels examined in this essay. Their fate is not so much a mystery as a tragedy and a warning. The lost children of The Doubleman are also lost children of the sixties, bright, talented young people drawn through drugs, immersive music, and half-baked mysticism into darkness and horrifying violence. In his essay “California Dreaming,” published in the collection Crossing the Gap, Koch wrote about this subterranean aspect of the sixties, drawing a connection between it and such real-life sinister “Pipers” as Charles Manson (60). Broderick and Burr are not the same as the serial killer Manson, of course; but the spell they cast over the “lost children” who follow them is only different in degree, not in kind. In the end of the novel, the spell is broken and the world is again transformed. Yet fittingly it is a melancholy transformation: an end of childhood dreams of imaginative potential, as well as dangerous illusions: “And I knew now that it was all gone—like Harrigan Street, and Broderick, and the district of Second-Hand” (Koch, Doubleman 357). The power of place, the last of the Piper motifs, is also deeply embedded in The Doubleman. In fact, as with the idea of Otherland, place—or Island, as Henricksen evocatively puts it—is a recurring theme in Koch’s work. He identified primarily and specifically as a Tasmanian writer rather than as simply Australian, pointing out in an essay, “The Lost Hemisphere,” that because of its landscape and latitude, different to the mainland of Australia, Tasmania “genuinely belongs to a different region from the continent” (Crossing the Gap 92). In The Doubleman, Richard Miller imbues his familiar and deeply loved home landscape with great mystical power, a power which is both inherent within it as it is, but also expressive of the Otherland. In “A Tasmanian Tone,” another essay from Crossing the Gap, Koch describes that tone as springing “from a sense of waiting in the landscape: the tense yet serene expectancy of some nameless revelation” (118). But Koch could also write evocatively of landscapes other than Tasmanian ones. The unnerving climax of The Doubleman takes place in Sydney—significantly, as in The Golden Day, in a liminal, metaphysically charged place of rocks and water. That place, which is real, is called Point Piper. In conclusion, the original tale’s three main motifs—lost children, the enigma of the Piper, and the power of place—have been explored in distinctive ways in each of the three novels examined in this article. Contemporary Australia may be a world away from medieval Germany, but the uncanny liminality and capacious ambiguity of the Pied Piper tale has made it resonate potently within these major Australian fictions. Transformed and transformative within the Australian imagination, the theme of the Pied Piper threads like a faintly-heard snatch of unearthly music through the apparently mimetic realism of the novels, destabilising readers’ expectations and leaving them with subversively unanswered questions. ReferencesBird, Carmel. “Dreaming the Place: An Exploration of Antipodean Narratives.” Griffith Review 42 (2013). 1 May 2016 <https://griffithreview.com/articles/dreaming-the-place/>.Dubosarsky, Ursula. The Golden Day. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2011.Fiander, Lisa M. “Writing in A Fairy Story Landscape: Fairy Tales and Contemporary Australian Fiction.” Journal of the Association for the Study of Australian Literature 2 (2003). 30 April 2016 <http://openjournals.library.usyd.edu.au/index.php/JASAL/index>.Henricksen, Noel. Island and Otherland: Christopher Koch and His Books. Melbourne: Educare, 2003.Knox, Malcolm. “A Country of Lost Children.” Sydney Morning Herald 15 Aug. 2009. 1 May 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/national/a-country-of-lost-children-20090814-el8d.html>.Koch, Christopher. The Doubleman. 1985. Sydney: Minerva, 1996.Koch, Christopher. Crossing the Gap: Memories and Reflections. 1987. Sydney: Vintage, 2000. Lindsay, Joan. Picnic at Hanging Rock. 1967. Melbourne: Penguin, 1977.Masson, Sophie. “Captive in Fairyland: The Strange Case of Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle.” Nation and Federation in the Celtic World: Papers from the Fourth Australian Conference of Celtic Studies, University of Sydney, June–July 2001. Ed. Pamela O’Neil. Sydney: University of Sydney Celtic Studies Foundation, 2003. Mieder, Wolfgang. “The Pied Piper: Origin, History, and Survival of a Legend.” Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature. 1987. London: Routledge Revivals, 2015.Pierce, Peter. The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999.Steele, Kathleen. “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush: Gothic Landscapes in Bush Studies and Picnic at Hanging Rock.” Colloquy 20 (2010): 33–56. 27 July 2016 <http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/wp-content/arts/files/colloquy/colloquy_issue_20_december_2010/steele.pdf>.

When the National Trust was established in 1895 its founders, Canon Rawnsley, Sir Robert Hunter and Octavia Hill, were, as Cannadine notes, “primarily concerned with preserving open spaces of outstanding natural beauty which were threatened with development or spoliation.” This was because, like Ruskin, Morris and “many of their contemporaries, they believed that the essence of Englishness was to be found in the fields and hedgerows, not in the suburbs and slums” (Cannadine 227). It was important to protect these sites of beauty and historical interest from development not only for what they were but for what they purportedly represented—an irreplaceable repository of the nation’s “spiritual values”, and thus a vital antidote to the “base materialism” of the day. G.M. Trevelyan, who I am quoting here, noted in two pieces written on behalf of the Trust in the 1920s and 30s, that the “inexorable rise of bricks and mortar” and the “full development of motor traffic” were laying waste to the English countryside. In the face of this assault on England’s heartland, the National Trust provided “an ark of refuge” safeguarding the nation’s cherished physical heritage and preserving its human cargo from the rising waters of materialism and despair (qtd. in Cannadine 231-2).Despite the extension of the road network and increasing private ownership of cars (up from 200,000 registrations in 1918 to “well over one million” in 1930), physical distance and economic hardship denied the majority of the urban population access to the countryside (Taylor 217). For the urban working classes recently or distantly displaced from the land, the dream of a return to rural roots was never more than a fantasy. Ford Madox Ford observed that “the poor and working classes of the towns never really go back” (Ford 58).Through the later nineteenth century the rural nostalgia once most prevalent among the working classes was increasingly noted as a feature of middle class sensibility. Better educated, with more leisure time and money at their disposal, these sentimental ruralists furnished a ready market for a new consumer phenomenon—the commodification of the English countryside and the packaging of the values it notionally embodied. As Valentine Cunningham observes, this was not always an edifying spectacle. By the late 1920s, “the terrible sounds of ‘Ye Olde England’ can already be heard, just off-stage, knocking together its thatched wayside stall where plastic pixies, reproduction beer-mugs, relics of Shakespeare and corn-dollies would soon be on sale” (Cunningham 229). Alongside the standard tourist tat, and the fiction and poetry that romanticised the rural world, a new kind of travel writing emerged around the turn of the century. Through an analysis of early-twentieth century notions of Englishness, this paper considers how the north struggled to find a place in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927).In Haunts of Ancient Peace (1901), the Poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, described a journey through “Old England” as a cultural pilgrimage in quest of surviving vestiges of the nation’s essential identity, “or so much of it as is left” (Austin 18). Austin’s was an early example of what had, by the 1920s and 30s become a “boom market … in books about the national character, traditions and antiquities, usually to be found in the country” (Wiener 73). Longmans began its “English Heritage” series in 1929, introduced by the Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, with volumes on “English humour, folk song and dance, the public school, the parish church, [and] wild life”. A year later Batsford launched its series of books on “English Life” with volumes featuring “the countryside, Old English household life, inns, villages, and cottages” (Wiener 73). There was an outpouring of books with an overtly conservationist agenda celebrating journeys through or periods of residence in the countryside, many of them written by “soldiers like Henry Williamson and Edmund Blunden, who returned from the First War determined to preserve the rural England they’d known” (Cunningham 229; Blunden, Face, England; Roberts, Pilgrim, Gone ; Williamson). In turn, these books engendered an efflorescence of critical analyses of the construction of England (Hamilton; Haddow; Keith; Cavaliero; Gervais; Giles and Middleton; Westall and Gardiner).By the 1920s it was clear that a great many people thought they knew what England was, where it might be found, and if threatened, which parts of it needed to be rescued in order to safeguard the survival of its essential identity. By the same point, there were large numbers who felt, in Patrick Wright’s words, that “Some areas of the nation had been lost forever and in these no one should expect to find the traditional nation at all” (Wright 87).A key guide to the nation’s sacred sites in this period, an inventory of their relics, and an illustration of how its lost regions might be rescued for or erased from its cultural map, was provided in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927). Initially published as a series of articles in the Daily Express in 1926, In Search of England went through nine editions in the two and a half years after its appearance in book form in 1927. With sales in excess of a million copies, as John Brannigan notes, the book went through a further twenty editions by 1943, and has remained continuously in print since (Brannigan).In his introduction Morton proposes In Search of England is simply “the record of a motor-car journey round England … written without deliberation by the roadside, on farmyard walls, in cathedrals, in little churchyards, on the washstands of country inns, and in many another inconvenient place” (Morton vii). As C.R. Perry notes, “This is a happy image, but also a misleading one” (Perry 434) for there was nothing arbitrary about Morton’s progress. Even a cursory glance at the map of his journey confirms, the England that Morton went in search of was overwhelmingly rural or coastal, and embodied in the historic villages and ancient towns of the Midlands or South.Morton’s biographer, Michael Bartholomew suggests that the “nodal points” of Morton’s journey are the “cathedral cities” (Bartholomew 105).Despite claims to the contrary, his book was written with deliberation and according to a specific cultural objective. Morton’s purpose was not to discover his homeland but to confirm a vision that he and millions of others cherished. He was not in search of England so much as reassuring himself and his readers that in spite of the depredations of the factory and the motor vehicle, it was still out there. These aims determined Morton’s journey; how long he spent in differing parts, what he recorded, and how he presented landscapes, buildings, people and material culture.Morton’s determination to celebrate England as rural and ancient needed to negotiate the journey north into an industrial landscape better known for its manufacturing cities, mining and mill towns, and the densely packed streets of the poor and working classes. Unable to either avoid or ignore this north, Morton needed to settle upon a strategy of passing through it without disturbing his vision of the rural idyll. Narratively, Morton’s touring through the south and west of the country is conducted at a gentle pace. In my 1930 edition of the text, it takes 185 of the book’s 280 pages to bring him from London via the South Coast, Cornwall, the Cotswolds and the Welsh marches, to Chester. The instant Morton crosses the Lancashire border, his bull-nosed Morris accelerates through the extensive northern counties in a mere thirty pages: Warrington to Carlisle (with a side trip to Gretna Green), Carlisle to Durham, and Durham to Lincoln. The final sixty-five pages return to the more leisurely pace of the south and west through Norfolk and the East Midlands, before the journey is completed in an unnamed village somewhere between Stratford upon Avon and Warwick. Morton spends 89 per cent of the text in the South and Midlands (66 per cent and 23 per cent respectively) with only 11 per cent given over to his time in the north.If, as Genette has pointed out, narrative deceleration results in the descriptive pause, it is no coincidence that this is the recurring set piece of Morton’s treatment of the south and west as opposed to the north. His explorations take dwelling moments on river banks and hill tops, in cathedral closes and castle ruins to honour the genius loci and imagine earlier times. On Plymouth Hoe he sees, in his mind’s eye, Sir Walter Raleigh’s fleet set sail to take on the Armada; at Tintagel it is Arthur, wild and Celtic, scaling the cliffs, spear in hand; at Buckler’s Hard amid the rotting slipways he imagines the “stout oak-built ships which helped to found the British Empire”, setting out on their journeys of conquest (Morton 39). At the other extreme, Genette observes, that narrative acceleration produces ellipsis, where details are omitted in order to render a more compact and striking expression. It is the principle of ellipsis, of selective omission, which compresses the geography of Morton’s journey through the north with the effect of shaping reader experiences. Morton hurries past the north’s industrial areas—shuddering at the sight of smoke or chimneys and averting his gaze from factory and slum.As he crosses the border from Cheshire into Lancashire, Morton reflects that “the traveller enters Industrial England”—not that you would know it from his account (Morton 185). Heading north towards the Lake District, he steers a determined path between “red smoke stacks” rising on one side and an “ominous grey haze” on the other, holding to a narrow corridor of rural land where, to his relief, he observes men “raking hay in a field within gunshot of factory chimneys” (Morton 185-6). These redolent, though isolated, farmhands are of greater cultural moment than the citadels of industry towering on either side of them. While the chimneys might symbolise the nation’s economic potency, the farmhands embody the survival of its essential cultural and moral qualities. In an allusion to the Israelites’ passage through the Red Sea from the Book of Exodus, the land that the workers tend holds back the polluted tide of industry, furnishing relief from the factory and the slum, granting Morton safe passage through the perils of modernity and into the Promised Land–or at least the Lake District. In Morton’s view this green belt is not only more essentially English than trade and industry, it is also expresses a nobler and more authentic Englishness.The “great industrial new-rich cities of northern England—vast and mighty as they are,” Morton observes, “fall into perspective as mere black specks against the mighty background of history and the great green expanse of fine country which is the real North of England” (Morton 208). Thus, the rural land between Manchester and Liverpool expands into a sea of green as the great cities shrink on the horizon, and the north is returned to its origins.What Morton cannot speed past or ignore, what he is compelled or chooses to confront, he transforms, through the agency of history, into something that he and England can bear to own. Tempted into Wigan by its reputation as a comic nowhere-land, a place whose name conjured a thousand music hall gags, Morton confesses that he had expected to find there another kind of cliché, “the apex of the world’s pyramid of gloom … dreary streets and stagnant canals and white-faced Wigonians dragging their weary steps along dull streets haunted by the horror of the place in which they are condemned to live” (Morton 187).In the process of naming what he dreads, Morton does not describe Wigan: he exorcises his deepest fears about what it might hold and offers an incantation intended to hold them at bay. He “discovers” Wigan is not the industrial slum but “a place which still bears all the signs of an old-fashioned country town” (Morton 188). Morton makes no effort to describe Wigan as it is, any more than he describes the north as a whole: he simply overlays them with a vision of them as they should be—he invents the Wigan and the north that he and England need.Having surveyed parks and gardens, historical monuments and the half-timbered mock-Tudor High Street, Morton returns to his car and the road where, with an audible sigh of relief, he finds: “Within five minutes of notorious Wigan we were in the depth of the country,” and that “on either side were fields in which men were making hay” (Morton 189).In little more than three pages he passes from one set of haymakers, south of town, to another on its north. The green world has all but smoothed over the industrial eyesore, and the reader, carefully chaperoned by Morton, can pass on to the Lake District having barely glimpsed the realities of industry and urbanism, reassured that if this is the worst that the north has to show then the rural heartland and the essential identity it sustains are safe. Paradoxically, instead of invalidating his account, Morton’s self-evident exclusions and omissions seem only to have fuelled its popularity.For readers of the Daily Express in the months leading up to and immediately after the General Strike of 1926, the myth of England that Morton proffered, of an unspoilt village where old values and traditional hierarchies still held true, was preferable to the violently polarised urban battlefields that the strike had revealed. As the century progressed and the nation suffered depression, war, and a steady decline in its international standing, as industry, suburban sprawl and the irresistible spread of motorways and traffic blighted the land, Morton’s England offered an imagined refuge, a real England that somehow, magically resisted the march of time.Yet if it was Morton’s triumph to provide England with a vision of its ideal spiritual home, it was his tragedy that this portrait of it hastened the devastation of the cultural survivals he celebrated and sought to preserve: “Even as the sense of idyll and peace was maintained, the forces pulling in another direction had to be acknowledged” (Taylor 74).In his introduction to the 1930 edition of In Search of England Morton approvingly acknowledged that a new enthusiasm for the nation’s history and heritage was abroad and that “never before have so many people been searching for England.” In the next sentence he goes on to laud the “remarkable system of motor-coach services which now penetrates every part of the country [and] has thrown open to ordinary people regions which even after the coming of the railways were remote and inaccessible” (Morton vii).Astonishingly, as the waiting charabancs roared their engines and the village greens of England enjoyed the last hours of their tranquillity, Morton somehow failed to make the obvious connection between these unique cultural and social phenomena or take any measure of their potential consequences. His “motoring pastoral” did more than alert the barbarians to the existence of the nation’s hidden treasures, as David Matless notes it provided them with a route map, itinerary and behavioural guide for their pillages (Matless 64; Peach; Batsford).Yet while cultural preservationists wrung their hands in horror at the advent of the day-tripper slouching towards Barnstaple, for Morton this was never a cause for concern. The nature of his journey and the form of its representation demonstrate that the England he worshipped was more an imaginary than a physical space, an ideal whose precise location no chart could fix and no touring party defile. ReferencesAustin, Alfred. Haunts of Ancient Peace. London: Macmillan, 1902.Bartholomew, Michael. In Search of H.V. Morton. London: Methuen, 2004.Batsford, Harry. How to See the Country. London: B.T. Batsford, 1940.Blunden, Edmund. The Face of England: In a Series of Occasional Sketches. London: Longmans, 1932.———. English Villages. London: Collins, 1942.Brannigan, John. “‘England Am I …’ Eugenics, Devolution and Virginia Woolf’s Between the Acts.” The Palgrave Macmillan Literature of an Independent England: Revisions of England, Englishness and English Literature. Eds. Claire Westall and Michael Gardiner. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013.Cannadine, David. In Churchill’s Shadow: Confronting the Past in Modern Britain. London: Penguin, 2002.Cavaliero, Glen. The Rural Tradition in the English Novel 1900-1939. Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield, 1977.Cunningham, Valentine. British Writers of the Thirties. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988.Ford, Ford Madox. The Heart of the Country: A Survey of a Modern Land. London: Alston Rivers, 1906.Gervais, David. Literary Englands. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.Giles, J., and T. Middleton, eds. Writing Englishness. London: Routledge, 1995.Haddow, Elizabeth. “The Novel of English Country Life, 1900-1930.” Dissertation. London: University of London, 1957.Hamilton, Robert. W.H. Hudson: The Vision of Earth. New York: Kennikat Press, 1946.Keith, W.J. Richard Jefferies: A Critical Study. Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1965.Lewis, Roy, and Angus Maude. The English Middle Classes. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1949.Matless, David. Landscape and Englishness. London: Reaktion Books, 1998.Morris, Margaret. The General Strike. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976.Morton, H.V. In Search of England. London: Methuen, 1927.Peach, H. Let Us Tidy Up. Leicester: The Dryad Press, 1930.Perry, C.R. “In Search of H.V. Morton: Travel Writing and Cultural Values in the First Age of British Democracy.” Twentieth Century British History 10.4 (1999): 431-56.Roberts, Cecil. Pilgrim Cottage. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1933.———. Gone Rustic. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1934.Taylor, A.J.P. England 1914-1945. The Oxford History of England XV. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975.Taylor, John. War Photography: Realism in the British Press. London: Routledge, 1991.Wiener, Martin. English Culture and the Decline of the Industrial Spirit, 1850-1980. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.Williamson, Henry. The Village Book. London: Jonathan Cape, 1930.Wright, Patrick. A Journey through Ruins: A Keyhole Portrait of British Postwar Life and Culture. London: Flamingo, 1992.

Introduction I am a transmigrant who has moved back and forth between the West and the Rest. I was born and raised in a Muslim family in a predominantly Muslim country, Bangladesh, but I spent several years of my childhood in Pakistan. After my marriage, I lived in the United States for a year and a half, the Middle East for 5 years, Australia for three years, back to the Middle East for another 5 years, then, finally, in Australia for the last 12 years. I speak Bengali (my mother tongue), Urdu (which I learnt in Pakistan), a bit of Arabic (learnt in the Middle East); but English has always been my medium of instruction. So where is home? Is it my place of origin, the Muslim umma, or my land of settlement? Or is it my ‘root’ or my ‘route’ (Blunt and Dowling)? Blunt and Dowling (199) observe that the lives of transmigrants are often interpreted in terms of their ‘roots’ and ‘routes’, which are two frameworks for thinking about home, homeland and diaspora. Whereas ‘roots’ might imply an original homeland from which people have scattered, and to which they might seek to return, ‘routes’ focuses on mobile, multiple and transcultural geographies of home. However, both ‘roots’ and ‘routes’ are attached to emotion and identity, and both invoke a sense of place, belonging or alienation that is intrinsically tied to a sense of self (Blunt and Dowling 196-219). In this paper, I equate home with my root (place of birth) and route (transnational homing) within the context of the ‘diaspora and belonging’. First I define the diaspora and possible criteria of belonging. Next I describe my transnational homing within the framework of diaspora and belonging. Finally, I consider how Australia can be a ‘home’ for me and other Muslim Australians. The Diaspora and Belonging Blunt and Dowling (199) define diaspora as “scattering of people over space and transnational connections between people and the places”. Cohen emphasised the ethno-cultural aspects of the diaspora setting; that is, how migrants identify and position themselves in other nations in terms of their (different) ethnic and cultural orientation. Hall argues that the diasporic subjects form a cultural identity through transformation and difference. Speaking of the Hindu diaspora in the UK and Caribbean, Vertovec (21-23) contends that the migrants’ contact with their original ‘home’ or diaspora depends on four factors: migration processes and factors of settlement, cultural composition, structural and political power, and community development. With regard to the first factor, migration processes and factors of settlement, Vertovec explains that if the migrants are political or economic refugees, or on a temporary visa, they are likely to live in a ‘myth of return’. In the cultural composition context, Vertovec argues that religion, language, region of origin, caste, and degree of cultural homogenisation are factors in which migrants are bound to their homeland. Concerning the social structure and political power issue, Vertovec suggests that the extent and nature of racial and ethnic pluralism or social stigma, class composition, degree of institutionalised racism, involvement in party politics (or active citizenship) determine migrants’ connection to their new or old home. Finally, community development, including membership in organisations (political, union, religious, cultural, leisure), leadership qualities, and ethnic convergence or conflict (trends towards intra-communal or inter-ethnic/inter-religious co-operation) would also affect the migrants’ sense of belonging. Using these scholarly ideas as triggers, I will examine my home and belonging over the last few decades. My Home In an initial stage of my transmigrant history, my home was my root (place of birth, Dhaka, Bangladesh). Subsequently, my routes (settlement in different countries) reshaped my homes. In all respects, the ethno-cultural factors have played a big part in my definition of ‘home’. But on some occasions my ethnic identification has been overridden by my religious identification and vice versa. By ethnic identity, I mean my language (mother tongue) and my connection to my people (Bangladeshi). By my religious identity, I mean my Muslim religion, and my spiritual connection to the umma, a Muslim nation transcending all boundaries. Umma refers to the Muslim identity and unity within a larger Muslim group across national boundaries. The only thing the members of the umma have in common is their Islamic belief (Spencer and Wollman 169-170). In my childhood my father, a banker, was relocated to Karachi, Pakistan (then West Pakistan). Although I lived in Pakistan for much of my childhood, I have never considered it to be my home, even though it is predominantly a Muslim country. In this case, my home was my root (Bangladesh) where my grandparents and extended family lived. Every year I used to visit my grandparents who resided in a small town in Bangladesh (then East Pakistan). Thus my connection with my home was sustained through my extended family, ethnic traditions, language (Bengali/Bangla), and the occasional visits to the landscape of Bangladesh. Smith (9-11) notes that people build their connection or identity to their homeland through their historic land, common historical memories, myths, symbols and traditions. Though Pakistan and Bangladesh had common histories, their traditions of language, dress and ethnic culture were very different. For example, the celebration of the Bengali New Year (Pohela Baishakh), folk dance, folk music and folk tales, drama, poetry, lyrics of poets Rabindranath Tagore (Rabindra Sangeet) and Nazrul Islam (Nazrul Geeti) are distinct in the cultural heritage of Bangladesh. Special musical instruments such as the banshi (a bamboo flute), dhol (drums), ektara (a single-stringed instrument) and dotara (a four-stringed instrument) are unique to Bangladeshi culture. The Bangladeshi cuisine (rice and freshwater fish) is also different from Pakistan where people mainly eat flat round bread (roti) and meat (gosh). However, my bonding factor to Bangladesh was my relatives, particularly my grandparents as they made me feel one of ‘us’. Their affection for me was irreplaceable. The train journey from Dhaka (capital city) to their town, Noakhali, was captivating. The hustle and bustle at the train station and the lush green paddy fields along the train journey reminded me that this was my ‘home’. Though I spoke the official language (Urdu) in Pakistan and had a few Pakistani friends in Karachi, they could never replace my feelings for my friends, extended relatives and cousins who lived in Bangladesh. I could not relate to the landscape or dry weather of Pakistan. More importantly, some Pakistani women (our neighbours) were critical of my mother’s traditional dress (saree), and described it as revealing because it showed a bit of her back. They took pride in their traditional dress (shalwar, kameez, dopatta), which they considered to be more covered and ‘Islamic’. So, because of our traditional dress (saree) and perhaps other differences, we were regarded as the ‘Other’. In 1970 my father was relocated back to Dhaka, Bangladesh, and I was glad to go home. It should be noted that both Pakistan and Bangladesh were separated from India in 1947 – first as one nation; then, in 1971, Bangladesh became independent from Pakistan. The conflict between Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) and Pakistan (then West Pakistan) originated for economic and political reasons. At this time I was a high school student and witnessed acts of genocide committed by the Pakistani regime against the Bangladeshis (March-December 1971). My memories of these acts are vivid and still very painful. After my marriage, I moved from Bangladesh to the United States. In this instance, my new route (Austin, Texas, USA), as it happened, did not become my home. Here the ethno-cultural and Islamic cultural factors took precedence. I spoke the English language, made some American friends, and studied history at the University of Texas. I appreciated the warm friendship extended to me in the US, but experienced a degree of culture shock. I did not appreciate the pub life, alcohol consumption, and what I perceived to be the lack of family bonds (children moving out at the age of 18, families only meeting occasionally on birthdays and Christmas). Furthermore, I could not relate to de facto relationships and acceptance of sex before marriage. However, to me ‘home’ meant a family orientation and living in close contact with family. Besides the cultural divide, my husband and I were living in the US on student visas and, as Vertovec (21-23) noted, temporary visa status can deter people from their sense of belonging to the host country. In retrospect I can see that we lived in the ‘myth of return’. However, our next move for a better life was not to our root (Bangladesh), but another route to the Muslim world of Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. My husband moved to Dhahran not because it was a Muslim world but because it gave him better economic opportunities. However, I thought this new destination would become my home – the home that was coined by Anderson as the imagined nation, or my Muslim umma. Anderson argues that the imagined communities are “to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined” (6; Wood 61). Hall (122) asserts: identity is actually formed through unconscious processes over time, rather than being innate in consciousness at birth. There is always something ‘imaginary’ or fantasized about its unity. It always remains incomplete, is always ‘in process’, always ‘being formed’. As discussed above, when I had returned home to Bangladesh from Pakistan – both Muslim countries – my primary connection to my home country was my ethnic identity, language and traditions. My ethnic identity overshadowed the religious identity. But when I moved to Saudi Arabia, where my ethnic identity differed from that of the mainstream Arabs and Bedouin/nomadic Arabs, my connection to this new land was through my Islamic cultural and religious identity. Admittedly, this connection to the umma was more psychological than physical, but I was now in close proximity to Mecca, and to my home of Dhaka, Bangladesh. Mecca is an important city in Saudi Arabia for Muslims because it is the holy city of Islam, the home to the Ka’aba (the religious centre of Islam), and the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad [Peace Be Upon Him]. It is also the destination of the Hajj, one of the five pillars of Islamic faith. Therefore, Mecca is home to significant events in Islamic history, as well as being an important present day centre for the Islamic faith. We lived in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia for 5 years. Though it was a 2.5 hours flight away, I treasured Mecca’s proximity and regarded Dhahran as my second and spiritual home. Saudi Arabia had a restricted lifestyle for women, but I liked it because it was a Muslim country that gave me the opportunity to perform umrah Hajj (pilgrimage). However, Saudi Arabia did not allow citizenship to expatriates. Saudi Arabia’s government was keen to protect the status quo and did not want to compromise its cultural values or standard of living by allowing foreigners to become a permanent part of society. In exceptional circumstances only, the King granted citizenship to a foreigner for outstanding service to the state over a number of years. Children of foreigners born in Saudi Arabia did not have rights of local citizenship; they automatically assumed the nationality of their parents. If it was available, Saudi citizenship would assure expatriates a secure and permanent living in Saudi Arabia; as it was, there was a fear among the non-Saudis that they would have to leave the country once their job contract expired. Under the circumstances, though my spiritual connection to Mecca was strong, my husband was convinced that Saudi Arabia did not provide any job security. So, in 1987 when Australia offered migration to highly skilled people, my husband decided to migrate to Australia for a better and more secure economic life. I agreed to his decision, but quite reluctantly because we were again moving to a non-Muslim part of the world, which would be culturally different and far away from my original homeland (Bangladesh). In Australia, we lived first in Brisbane, then Adelaide, and after three years we took our Australian citizenship. At that stage I loved the Barossa Valley and Victor Harbour in South Australia, and the Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast in Queensland, but did not feel at home in Australia. We bought a house in Adelaide and I was a full time home-maker but was always apprehensive that my children (two boys) would lose their culture in this non-Muslim world. In 1990 we once again moved back to the Muslim world, this time to Muscat, Sultanate of Oman. My connection to this route was again spiritual. I valued the fact that we would live in a Muslim country and our children would be brought up in a Muslim environment. But my husband’s move was purely financial as he got a lucrative job offer in Muscat. We had another son in Oman. We enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle provided by my husband’s workplace and the service provided by the housemaid. I loved the beaches and freedom to drive my car, and I appreciated the friendly Omani people. I also enjoyed our frequent trips (4 hours flight) to my root, Dhaka, Bangladesh. So our children were raised within our ethnic and Islamic culture, remained close to my root (family in Dhaka), though they attended a British school in Muscat. But by the time I started considering Oman to be my second home, we had to leave once again for a place that could provide us with a more secure future. Oman was like Saudi Arabia; it employed expatriates only on a contract basis, and did not give them citizenship (not even fellow Muslims). So after 5 years it was time to move back to Australia. It was with great reluctance that I moved with my husband to Brisbane in 1995 because once again we were to face a different cultural context. As mentioned earlier, we lived in Brisbane in the late 1980s; I liked the weather, the landscape, but did not consider it home for cultural reasons. Our boys started attending expensive private schools and we bought a house in a prestigious Western suburb in Brisbane. Soon after arriving I started my tertiary education at the University of Queensland, and finished an MA in Historical Studies in Indian History in 1998. Still Australia was not my home. I kept thinking that we would return to my previous routes or the ‘imagined’ homeland somewhere in the Middle East, in close proximity to my root (Bangladesh), where we could remain economically secure in a Muslim country. But gradually I began to feel that Australia was becoming my ‘home’. I had gradually become involved in professional and community activities (with university colleagues, the Bangladeshi community and Muslim women’s organisations), and in retrospect I could see that this was an early stage of my ‘self-actualisation’ (Maslow). Through my involvement with diverse people, I felt emotionally connected with the concerns, hopes and dreams of my Muslim-Australian friends. Subsequently, I also felt connected with my mainstream Australian friends whose emotions and fears (9/11 incident, Bali bombing and 7/7 tragedy) were similar to mine. In late 1998 I started my PhD studies on the immigration history of Australia, with a particular focus on the historical settlement of Muslims in Australia. This entailed retrieving archival files and interviewing people, mostly Muslims and some mainstream Australians, and enquiring into relevant migration issues. I also became more active in community issues, and was not constrained by my circumstances. By circumstances, I mean that even though I belonged to a patriarchally structured Muslim family, where my husband was the main breadwinner, main decision-maker, my independence and research activities (entailing frequent interstate trips for data collection, and public speaking) were not frowned upon or forbidden (Khan 14-15); fortunately, my husband appreciated my passion for research and gave me his trust and support. This, along with the Muslim community’s support (interviews), and the wider community’s recognition (for example, the publication of my letters in Australian newspapers, interviews on radio and television) enabled me to develop my self-esteem and built up my bicultural identity as a Muslim in a predominantly Christian country and as a Bangladeshi-Australian. In 2005, for the sake of a better job opportunity, my husband moved to the UK, but this time I asserted that I would not move again. I felt that here in Australia (now in Perth) I had a job, an identity and a home. This time my husband was able to secure a good job back in Australia and was only away for a year. I no longer dream of finding a home in the Middle East. Through my bicultural identity here in Australia I feel connected to the wider community and to the Muslim umma. However, my attachment to the umma has become ambivalent. I feel proud of my Australian-Muslim identity but I am concerned about the jihadi ideology of militant Muslims. By jihadi ideology, I mean the extremist ideology of the al-Qaeda terrorist group (Farrar 2007). The Muslim umma now incorporates both moderate and radical Muslims. The radical Muslims (though only a tiny minority of 1.4 billion Muslims worldwide) pose a threat to their moderate counterparts as well as to non-Muslims. In the UK, some second- and third-generation Muslims identify themselves with the umma rather than their parents’ homelands or their country of birth (Husain). It should not be a matter of concern if these young Muslims adopt a ‘pure’ Muslim identity, providing at the same time they are loyal to their country of residence. But when they resort to terrorism with their ‘pure’ Muslim identity (e.g., the 7/7 London bombers) they defame my religion Islam, and undermine my spiritual connection to the umma. As a 1st generation immigrant, the defining criteria of my ‘homeliness’ in Australia are my ethno-cultural and religious identity (which includes my family), my active citizenship, and my community development/contribution through my research work – all of which allow me a sense of efficacy in my life. My ethnic and religious identities generally co-exist equally, but when I see some Muslims kill my fellow Australians (such as the Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005) my Australian identity takes precedence. I feel for the victims and condemn the perpetrators. On the other hand, when I see politics play a role over the human rights issues (e.g., the Tampa incident), my religious identity begs me to comment on it (see Kabir, Muslims in Australia 295-305). Problematising ‘Home’ for Muslim Australians In the European context, Grillo (863) and Werbner (904), and in the Australian context, Kabir (Muslims in Australia) and Poynting and Mason, have identified the diversity within Islam (national, ethnic, religious etc). Werbner (904) notes that in spite of the “wishful talk of the emergence of a ‘British Islam’, even today there are Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Arab mosques, as well as Turkish and Shia’a mosques”; thus British Muslims retain their separate identities. Similarly, in Australia, the existence of separate mosques for the Bangladeshi, Pakistani, Arab and Shia’a peoples indicates that Australian Muslims have also kept their ethnic identities discrete (Saeed 64-77). However, in times of crisis, such as the Salman Rushdie affair in 1989, and the 1990-1991 Gulf crises, both British and Australian Muslims were quick to unite and express their Islamic identity by way of resistance (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 160-162; Poynting and Mason 68-70). In both British and Australian contexts, I argue that a peaceful rally or resistance is indicative of active citizenship of Muslims as it reveals their sense of belonging (also Werbner 905). So when a transmigrant Muslim wants to make a peaceful demonstration, the Western world should be encouraged, not threatened – as long as the transmigrant’s allegiances lie also with the host country. In the European context, Grillo (868) writes: when I asked Mehmet if he was planning to stay in Germany he answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, of course’. And then, after a little break, he added ‘as long as we can live here as Muslims’. In this context, I support Mehmet’s desire to live as a Muslim in a non-Muslim world as long as this is peaceful. Paradoxically, living a Muslim life through ijtihad can be either socially progressive or destructive. The Canadian Muslim feminist Irshad Manji relies on ijtihad, but so does Osama bin Laden! Manji emphasises that ijtihad can be, on the one hand, the adaptation of Islam using independent reasoning, hybridity and the contesting of ‘traditional’ family values (c.f. Doogue and Kirkwood 275-276, 314); and, on the other, ijtihad can take the form of conservative, patriarchal and militant Islamic values. The al-Qaeda terrorist Osama bin Laden espouses the jihadi ideology of Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), an Egyptian who early in his career might have been described as a Muslim modernist who believed that Islam and Western secular ideals could be reconciled. But he discarded that idea after going to the US in 1948-50; there he was treated as ‘different’ and that treatment turned him against the West. He came back to Egypt and embraced a much more rigid and militaristic form of Islam (Esposito 136). Other scholars, such as Cesari, have identified a third orientation – a ‘secularised Islam’, which stresses general beliefs in the values of Islam and an Islamic identity, without too much concern for practices. Grillo (871) observed Islam in the West emphasised diversity. He stressed that, “some [Muslims were] more quietest, some more secular, some more clamorous, some more negotiatory”, while some were exclusively characterised by Islamic identity, such as wearing the burqa (elaborate veils), hijabs (headscarves), beards by men and total abstinence from drinking alcohol. So Mehmet, cited above, could be living a Muslim life within the spectrum of these possibilities, ranging from an integrating mode to a strict, militant Muslim manner. In the UK context, Zubaida (96) contends that marginalised, culturally-impoverished youth are the people for whom radical, militant Islamism may have an appeal, though it must be noted that the 7/7 bombers belonged to affluent families (O’Sullivan 14; Husain). In Australia, Muslim Australians are facing three challenges. First, the Muslim unemployment rate: it was three times higher than the national total in 1996 and 2001 (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 266-278; Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 63). Second, some spiritual leaders have used extreme rhetoric to appeal to marginalised youth; in January 2007, the Australian-born imam of Lebanese background, Sheikh Feiz Mohammad, was alleged to have employed a DVD format to urge children to kill the enemies of Islam and to have praised martyrs with a violent interpretation of jihad (Chulov 2). Third, the proposed citizenship test has the potential to make new migrants’ – particularly Muslims’ – settlement in Australia stressful (Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79); in May 2007, fuelled by perceptions that some migrants – especially Muslims – were not integrating quickly enough, the Howard government introduced a citizenship test bill that proposes to test applicants on their English language skills and knowledge of Australian history and ‘values’. I contend that being able to demonstrate knowledge of history and having English language skills is no guarantee that a migrant will be a good citizen. Through my transmigrant history, I have learnt that developing a bond with a new place takes time, acceptance and a gradual change of identity, which are less likely to happen when facing assimilationist constraints. I spoke English and studied history in the United States, but I did not consider it my home. I did not speak the Arabic language, and did not study Middle Eastern history while I was in the Middle East, but I felt connected to it for cultural and religious reasons. Through my knowledge of history and English language proficiency I did not make Australia my home when I first migrated to Australia. Australia became my home when I started interacting with other Australians, which was made possible by having the time at my disposal and by fortunate circumstances, which included a fairly high level of efficacy and affluence. If I had been rejected because of my lack of knowledge of ‘Australian values’, or had encountered discrimination in the job market, I would have been much less willing to embrace my host country and call it home. I believe a stringent citizenship test is more likely to alienate would-be citizens than to induce their adoption of values and loyalty to their new home. Conclusion Blunt (5) observes that current studies of home often investigate mobile geographies of dwelling and how it shapes one’s identity and belonging. Such geographies of home negotiate from the domestic to the global context, thus mobilising the home beyond a fixed, bounded and confining location. Similarly, in this paper I have discussed how my mobile geography, from the domestic (root) to global (route), has shaped my identity. Though I received a degree of culture shock in the United States, loved the Middle East, and was at first quite resistant to the idea of making Australia my second home, the confidence I acquired in residing in these ‘several homes’ were cumulative and eventually enabled me to regard Australia as my ‘home’. I loved the Middle East, but I did not pursue an active involvement with the Arab community because I was a busy mother. Also I lacked the communication skill (fluency in Arabic) with the local residents who lived outside the expatriates’ campus. I am no longer a cultural freak. I am no longer the same Bangladeshi woman who saw her ethnic and Islamic culture as superior to all other cultures. I have learnt to appreciate Australian values, such as tolerance, ‘a fair go’ and multiculturalism (see Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79). My bicultural identity is my strength. With my ethnic and religious identity, I can relate to the concerns of the Muslim community and other Australian ethnic and religious minorities. And with my Australian identity I have developed ‘a voice’ to pursue active citizenship. Thus my biculturalism has enabled me to retain and merge my former home with my present and permanent home of Australia. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London, New York: Verso, 1983. Australian Bureau of Statistics: Census of Housing and Population, 1996 and 2001. Blunt, Alison. Domicile and Diaspora: Anglo-Indian Women and the Spatial Politics of Home. 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Citation reference for this article MLA Style Kabir, Nahid. "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>. APA Style Kabir, N. (Aug. 2007) "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>.