Academic literature on the topic 'Painters Eleven'

Relying on post-Byzantine tradition, eleven painters from five generations of the Dimitrijevic-Rafailovic family, accompanied by Maksim Tujkovic, painted several thousand icons and several hundred iconostases between the late seventeenth and the second half of the nineteenth century. They worked in major Orthodox Christian monasteries in Montenegro, Kosovo and Metohija, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Dalmatia, but their works can mostly be found in modest village churches in the Bay of Kotor (Cattaro) and on the South Adriatic coast. The decoration of these churches was financially supported by the local population headed by elders. Along with a reconstruction of their biographies and a chronological overview of their major works, this paper seeks to trace stylistic changes in the Bay of Kotor school of icon-painting. While simply varying a thematic repertory established in earlier periods, the painters from the Bay of Kotor were gradually introducing new details and themes adopted from Western European Baroque art under indirect influences coming from the monastery of Hilandar, Corfu, Venice and Russia. This process makes this indigenous school of icon-painting, which spanned almost two centuries, comparable to the work of Serbian traditional religious painters (zografs) and illuminators active north of the Sava and Danube rivers after the Great Migration of the Serbs (1690). Despite differences between the two, which resulted from different cultural and historical circumstances in which Serbs lived under Ottoman, Venetian and Habsburg rules, similarities in iconography and style, which were inspired by an urge to counteract proselytic pressures, are considerably more important.

El hallazgo de dos series de grabados flamencos del siglo XVII sobre el tema El Credo, de los artistas Adrian Collaert (1560-1618) y Johan Sadeler (1550-1600), permiten confirmar la importante presencia de los grabados europeos en los talleres de pintura de la América Hispana y su influencia decisiva en la formación de nuestros artistas. Se analizan entonces bajo esta perspectiva, las once pinturas al óleo que conforman la Serie de los Artículos de El Credo, obra del pintor quiteño Miguel de Santiago (1603-1706) que se encuentran en la Catedral Primada de Bogotá desde la época colonial.Palabras clave: Grabados europeos, pintores coloniales, Miguel de Santiago, Quito, Santafé de Bogotá. From European Engraving to American Painting. El Credo Series From The Painter From Quito Miguel de Santiago AbstractThe discovery of two engraving Flemish series from 17th century about El Credo, from the artists Adrian Collaert (1560-1618) and Johan Sadeler (1550-1600), allows proving the presence of European engravings within the painting works in the Hispanic America and the great influence on our artists’ formation. Thus based on this, are analyzed the eleven oil paintings that constitute the Series of Goods from El Credo, from the painter from Quito Miguel de Santiago (1603-1706) that are from the colonial time in the Catedral Primada de Bogotá.KeywordsEuropean engravings, colonial painters, Miguel de Santiago, Quito, Santafé de Bogotá

This paper focuses on the funding and finances of <em>De nieuwe gids</em>, a late nineteenth-century periodical believed by many to be the archetypical Dutch cultural magazine. The editors of <em>De nieuwe gids</em> introduced new ways of running their business and had new ideas about their role as professional writers and painters, about the pitfalls of creating for money, and about the relationship between art and finance. The paper argues that they alleviated their uneasy relationship with money through different forms of patronage. The editors acquired a substantial capital from a consortium of eleven backers, and used this money for the continuation of the magazine as well as for the upkeep of those members of their group who had no other resources. They made sure that money was circulated and transferred in such a way that all members profited: artists without money could keep on writing and painting, and artists who did have money invested in the continuity of the group as a whole and in their own place within it. This patronage system was remarkably successful, probably because it did not affect the artistic prestige or credibility of the editors, nor of the benefactors involved.

AbstractA century ago the Rijksprentenkabinet in Amsterdam acquired a 19th-century album containing 56 rapid sketches in black chalk after 17th-century, mostly Dutch paintings (Note 1). The sketches, which are numberd, have the names of the painters wrillen on them in the artist's own hand. They were first published in 1895 (Note 2) by E. W. Moes, who concluded that they were by a Delft artist, and C. Hofstede de Groot, who convincingly attributed them to Leonaert Bramer (1596-1674) and identified two of the paintings in question. Since then various other paintings have been identified (Notes 5, 7, 8, 11 and 12), notably by A. Blankert, who has made his findings available for the present publication, and other drawings belonging to the series have been found, Frits Lugt leading the way here (Notes 9 and 10). The present study, the first to be undertaken in depth since 1895, has brought to light three more sketches after paintings by Bramer himself (cat. nos.9-11) and one probably after Wouwerman (cat. no.65), while seven more paintings have been identified and one of the sketches without a name has proved to be after a painting by Antonio Maria Viani. Two lists of the sketches so far found are given here: that of State I reproduces the original order, that of State II gives the artists in alphabetical order as they appear in the catalogue published here. These sketches are of exceptional documentary value, since they have not only given us the names of some previously unknown painters, such as M. de Berch, J. Garbaal, P. Monincx and A. Pick, but they have also revealed unexpected aspects of some well-known ones, e.g. a still life by P. van Groenewegen, a Dutch landscape by J.B. Weenix and a genre piece of a very Utrecht character by L. de Jongh. Moreover, the sketches afford a fine glimpse of collecting in Holland in the 17th century, a subject otherwise known uirtually only from non-visual documents. On the back of one of the drawings (cat. no.6) appears a list of the owners of the pictures sketched (Fig. I), possibly written by Bramer himself. This is reproduced here in an amplified version of Moes' transcription, with one completely new name yielded by the present study. The styles given in the list suggest that the men concerned appear in it in order of their social standing. The first, Simon Graswinckel (c.1611-71), was a member of a wealthy Delft family of brewers and regents. He owned a great deal of property in and around Delft, but is reported by his brothers-in-law to have spent his time in gaming-houses and taverns (Note 30). His will of 1663 is known, but no paintings are mentioned in it. The second man on the list was probably a Van Beresteijn, another family from the wealthy upper echelons of Delft society. His precise identity came to light in a roundabout way via the inventory of 28 February 1652 of Adriaen van Vredenburg, in which are listed a number of paintings that were very probably sketched by Bramer (Note 32), notably one of Jezebel, this mention and Bramer's sketch being virtually unique indications of this subject in Dutch 17th-century painting. Vredenburg does not appear in the list of owners of the paintings, but on his death his property went to his stepdaughter, whose guardian he had been and who married Theodorus van Beresteijn in November 1652. Antonie van Bronchorst is known only from the commission he gave Bramer in 1653 to painl frescoes in his house (Note 34), while Capitein van der Bon..., Nicolaas van der Werch and Johan Persijn have not yet been traced in the Delft archives. Willem de Langue (1599-1666), on the other hand, was a lawyer and a connoisseur of paintings unparalleled in Delft in the mid 17th century (Note 36). He himself made the inventories of the paintings in important estates and he numbered many artists among his clientele (Note 37). Portraits of him and his wife by Van Vliet are known (Note 38), while he also appears as an officer in a militia piece of 1648 by Jacob Willemsz Delff (Fig. 2). Abraham de Cooge (before 1600-after 1680) was the most versatile person in the list, being an engraver, painter, dealer in tulip bulbs, organs and paintings and pottery manufacturer (Note 39). He was registered in the Guild of St. Luke in Delft in 1632 and two paintings by him are known (Note 40). In 1646 Leonaerl Bramer made illustrations to the picaresque novel Lazarilo de Tormes for him (Note 17). In the 1650's De Cooge was increasingly involved in art-dealing and that on no small scale. He also had representatives in Antwerp, so was probably among the biggest art-dealers in the Northern Netherlands. Adam Pick (c. 1622-before 1666) enrolled in the Guild of St. Luke in Delft in 1642 (Note 43) and was active in the town up to the early 1650's as a painter of landscapes, genre pieces and still lifes (Fig.3) and also as the keeper of the Toelast ( Wine Cask) inn. He probably moved to Leiden, where he is mentioned in 1654 as a vintner, in 1653, perhaps as a consequence of the death of his first wife in 1652, f or he certainly sold the inn that year. The inventory of their joint property drawn up in 1653 includes a list of paintings, which tally with nos.8(?) -98 in the State I list. Only one painting by Pick is known (Fig.3), plus the sketch by Bramer after another (cat. no.44). Reinier Jansz Vermeer (1591-1652, Note 46), the father of Johannes, started out as a silk weaver, but appears in 1629 as an innkeeper and in 1631 was registered in the Guild of St. Luke in Delft as an art-dealer. From then on he came into frequent contact with local painters, Bramer included, but his dealing was probably only a sideline of his innkeeping. He died in October 1652. The last owner on the list is Bramer himself, who returned to Delft in 1628 after a lengthy period in France and Italy (1614-27, Note 49). He played a leading part in the Guild of St. Luke and was among the most successful painters in Delft around the middle of the 17th century. Later in life, however, he was often in financial difficulties (Note 50). He was one of the very few Dutch fresco painters (Note 51), as well as a painter of history and genre pieces and a prolific draughtsman and illustrator (Note 52), while just one document provides evidence of his dealing in paintirtgs (Note 54). The presence of works by Bramer himself among the sketches seems to rule out the theory that he made them as an aide mémoire for his own use (Note 15), while their very rapid character makes it unlikely that they were produced for one of the owners as an art-object. It also seems highly improbable that the collectors/owners would have wanted their collections of paintings sketched together in one book. The most acceptable suggestion appears to be that they were made in connection with a forthcoming sale of pictures, particularly as three of the owners listed were involved in art-dealing, while in the cases of Vermeer, Pick and Van Beresteijn there was every reason for paintings from their collections being sold around the end of 1652 or beginning of 1653: Vermeer's death left his family in dire financial straits, Pick will probably have sold his pictures (as he did his inn) before moving to Leiden and Van Beresteijn will probably have wanted to realize some money on his wife's inheritance. Thus the dates of Vermeer's burial in October 1652 and Pick's inventory of March 1653 would seem to provide crucial clues to the dating of the sketches, which were probably made in rapid succession, to judge from the unity of style, despite the great diversity of the models, and the straightforward consecutive numbering. Presumably the intention was to bring these pictures from Delft collections together for a sale (Note 18) and Bramer was commissioned to make sketches in advance (or even to make a certain selection, Note 19) possibly to give an idea of what was on offer to collectors or dealers elsewhere (which might explain the 'inking in' of the painters' names originally written in chalk on five of the drawings, cat. nos. 17, 35, 36, 47 and 64). Bramer made such chalk inscriptions on ten of the drawings (Note 20), probably while sketching them. Afterwards he inscribed and numbered all of them in ink (Note 5). Notes in another 17th-century hand appear on cat. nos.22 and 24. The sheets may all have been of the same size originally, but have since been cut down, often wholly or partly along the framing lines around the sketch. This may well have been done by Bramer himsef or the dealer he made them for. Just over half of them remained together and were stuck into the present album in the 19th century. There are no portraits among the sketches and only two stll lifes and two marine paintings, but eleven Italianate landscapes and 22 history paintings. Thus the subjects differ somewhat from the categories arrived at by Montiasfor mid 17th-century Delft from his study of inventories (Note 56). The preference for history pieces is probably to be explained by the high social standing of the owners. The majority of the pictures were very modern for that time and of the 41 artists, 28 were still alive in 1652-3 and eight of them were only 35 or younger. Bramer's material contradicts Montlas' conclusion that Delft collectors showed a preference for local painters (Note 58), whose work amounted to 40-50% of that listed in the inventories. Of Bramer's 41 painters, only thirteen were from Delft (Note 59) and only five are found in Montias' list of the most common painters in Delft inventories. Thus the pictures sketched by Bramer fall outside the 'normal Delft pattern' and evince a less provincial taste. However, the collectors were still not among the leading figures of their day in this field by comparison with, for example, Boudewijn de Man of Delft (Note 62), whose collection included works by Goltzius, Bloemaert, Rubens, Rembrandt and Ter Brugghen in 1644. The pictures sketched by Bramer were presumably to be brought together for public auction and the sketches may very probably have been made with an eye to the sale catalogue. While sale catalogues are known in the second half of the 17th century, they only relate to very important collections, which makes these sketches very unusual as a documentation of a sale of pictures from average well-to-do collectors and dealers. The collection of sketches as such certainly has no parallel at this period (Note 64).

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

The paper is devoted to the chronology of the genesis of the iconostasis and the choros of the monastery of Piva and to the attribution of some of their icons. It presents the hitherto unpublished Deesis row which formed part of the original altar screen and was painted sometime between 1586 and 1604. The Deeisis and the somewhat younger Crucifix (1606) were mounted on the old iconostasis above the despotic icons painted by Longin in 1573/1574. At least one of the two-sided icons from the subsequently made choros (1610/1611) is not his work. For the new carved wooden iconostasis (1638/1639) the Serbian painter Jovan painted the despotic icons and the icon of the Descent of the Holy Spirit in the upper tier. A disciple of his painted the other eleven icons of the Great Feasts.

AbstractThe Delft artist Leonaert Bramer (1596-1574) appears to have been intensively involved in the decoration of Delftware. Hitherto four separate examples were known, mostly dating from the 1650s and 1660s (figs.1, 2, 4, 6). The article presents ten (perhaps eleven) new examples of 'Bramer ware' (figs. 8, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23(?), 26; see also note 19) produced between possibly as early as 1630 and 1670. Furthermore, eight of his designs have been found in the archives of the Koninklijke Tichelaar Makkum pottery; the compositions were 'pounced' onto the pottery, i.e. stencilled by dusting powder through a pricked paper pattern (figs. 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 31, 32). Two early series of drawings by Bramer from the 1630s (most of them in London-scenes from the Old Testament-and Bremenscenes from the New Testament), or derivations from them, seem to have frequently served as patterns for pottery painters (figs. 3-21). Oddly, one of these compositions, Joseph cast into the well by his brothers (fig. 10), occurs on a dish decorated with grotesques which is often regarded as Haarlem work (fig. 11). The use of a Delft artist's composition, combined with the fact that Marion van Aken-Fehmers (Haags Gemeentemuseum, The Hague) has traced a similar grotesque dish bearing the mark of the Delft pottery 'De Porceleyne Bijl' (see note 18), clearly shows that I laarlem did not have a monopoly on grotesques. A total of ten pounces are kept at Makkum: four drawings by Bramer (figs. 24, 25, 27, 29; two pricked repeats of the composition Jacob's Dream: fig. 28) and four pricked stencils (figs. 31, 32). Stylistically, the drawings can be dated to the late 1650s. All ten are pricked along the outlines; the four original drawings are 'matrixes', the others were used as stencils. The composition of Judah and Tamar (fig. 25) is virtually identical with Bramer's version of twenty years earlier. The Judah and Tamar pounce was used until well into the 18th century, judging by a plate dated 1783 in Paris (fig. 26). The coarse manner of painting demonstrates that the use of a pricked paper pattern based on the design of a professional artist was no guarantee for the quality of the result, which depends enti rely on the pottery painter. This accounts for the frequently mediocre standard of the painting on most plates. Nevertheless, a few plates and dishes display painting of such high quality and a manner so similar to Bramer's that it is not unlikely that they were painted by the Delft artist himself (figs. 2, 6, 21). 'Bramer ware' is unmarked. However, on grounds of circumstantial evidence three potteries can be identified where Bramer ware might have been produced: 'De Porceleyne Fles', 'De Grieksche A' and 'De Dissel'. 'De Dissel', where Abraham de Cooge worked, is a likely candidate, in view of a large series of drawings which Bramer made for De Cooge in 1646 (see note 7). In the past, much surprise has been evinced at the gap between the artists of Delft and the potters and decorators of pottery. Despite the heyday of both painting and the pottery industry in Delft in the mid-17th century, and despite the fact that artists and potters were members of the same guild, they seem to have operated quite separately. The material assembled here has brought artists and potters a little closer to each other.

AbstractIn this article a newly researched biography and a fresh look at the small oeuvre of the Haarlem painter Franchoys Elaut - hitherto called 'Elout' in art-historical literature - are presented. Franchoys Elaut was born in August Ι589 into a family that had moved from Ghent to Haarlem, probably some five years earlier. Biographical research is complicated by the fact that between Ι585 and Ι698 ten or eleven persons of the same name, all members of the same family, were registered in Haarlem. Nothing is known about the painter's training and early activity. He may not have started out as a painter; his earliest known work dates from Ι627 (fig. 2), and was therefore painted when he was about thirty-eight. The following year, however, Samuel Ampzing praised Elaut's still lifes in his book about Haarlem. Also in Ι627 a Francois Elaut - probably the painter - was registered as a musketeer in a company of the civic guard and was a witness at the baptism of Frans Hals' son Reinier. In Ι628 Franchoys Elaut married Anneke Jans; daughters were baptised in Ι629 and Ι632. Our painter probably fell victim to the plague that afflicted Haarlem in Ι635: his burial is registered as having taken place on September 22 of that year and in the books of the Haarlem guild for Ι637 he is noted as 'dead'. Art-historical literature has always presented Elaut as a painter of still lifes only, but he produced works in other genres as well. In The Hague a 'tronie', a head of an old man, signed with his monogram and dated Ι632, has surfaced on two occasions (fig. 5). Two such works by Elaut appear to have been offered for sale in Haarlem as early as Ι63Ι, together with five still lifes by the artist. Additionally, two genre paintings in the manner of Dirck Hals, one of which is now in Munich, can be attributed to Franchoys Elaut (fig. 7). Both paintings are in keeping with Haarlem traditions of the time. Of the still lifes hitherto ascribed to Elaut, only two signed examples can be established securely as his work (figs. Ι and 2). These can be supplemented by two more still lifes, one of which- monogrammed and dated Ι630, but unfortunately in poor condition - surfaced quite recently (fig. 3). The other was on the market several times this century as a work by Pieter Claesz. (fig. 4). Both in his still lifes and genre pieces Franchoys Elaut showed himself to be an eager and able follower of the latest stylistic developments and an artist whose works, according to Ampzing's testimony, must have commanded a certain amount of respect in seventeenth-century Haarlem.

In 1704 the Indo-Persian Sufi and poet Mirzā ʿAbdul Qādir ʿBīdil’ completed an autobiography entitled The Four Elements (Chahār ʿunṣur). Into the fourth “Element” of this text he set an account of a portrait of himself painted around 1677 by Anūp Chhatr, a painter famous for his portraits in the imperial Mughal ateliers of the time. Initially refusing his painter-acquaintance permission to paint him, Bīdil finally yields and is astonished at how the resulting portrait duplicates him like a mirror. After marveling at it for a decade, he falls ill. His friends visit him in his sickbed and one of them, leafing through his anthology of texts, comes upon the painting. He exclaims at how faded it is. Bīdil himself can barely make it out on the page. When he recovers his health, he opens the anthology to examine the faded portrait and is astonished and shocked, as his friends are, to see that it has recovered its brilliant colors. He tears the painting up.This essay reads this ekphrastic account of self-transformation as an autobiographical and iconoclastic interpretation, playing on philosophical, literary and painterly traditions of visuality, in particular Ibn ʿArabi’s (d. 1240, Andalusia) theory of the imagination. Among the questions that will be pursued are: what understandings of self and self-transformation did Bīdil renew by this interpretation? How is this episode a focusing of concerns that pervade all of The Four Elements? What kind of reader and reading practices did this autobiography assume? And, finally, does an understanding of Bīdil’s iconoclastic self-transformation—turning on this episode—prepare us to better understand his works in other genres?

AbstractAry Scheffer (1795-1858) is so generally included in the French School (Note 2)- unsurprisingly, since his career was confined almost entirely to Paris - that the fact that he was born and partly trained in the Netherlands is often overlooked. Yet throughout his life he kept in touch with Dutch colleagues and drew part of his inspiration from Dutch traditions. These Dutch aspects are the subject of this article. The Amsterdam City Academy, 1806-9 Ary Scheffer was enrolled at the Amsterdam Academy on 25 October 1806, his parents falsifying his date of birth in order to get him admitted at the age of eleven (fifteen was the oficial age) . He started in the third class and in order to qualify for the second he had to be one of the winners in the prize drawing contest. Candidates in this were required to submit six drawings made during the months January to March. Although no-one was supposed to enter until he had been at the Academy for four years, Ary Scheffer competed in both 1808 and 1809. Some of his signed drawings are preserved in Dordrecht. (Figs. 1-5 and 7), along with others not made for the contest. These last in particular are interesting not only because they reveal his first prowess, but also because they give some idea of the Academy practice of his day. Although the training at the Academy broadly followed the same lines as that customary in France, Italy and elsewhere (Note 4), our knowledge of its precise content is very patchy, since there was no set curriculum and no separate teachers for each subject. Two of Scheffer's drawings (Figs. 2 and 3) contain extensive notes, which amount to a more or less complete doctrine of proportion. It is not known who his teacher was or what sources were used, but the proportions do not agree with those in Van der Passe's handbook, which came into vogue in the 18th century, or with those of the canon of a Leonardo, Dürer or Lebrun. One gets the impression that what are given here are the exact measurements of a concrete example. Scheffer's drawings show him gradually mastering the rudiments of art. In earlier examples the hatching is sometimes too hasty (Fig. 4) or too rigidly parallel (Fig.5), while his knowledge of anatomy is still inadequate and his observation not careful enough. But right from the start he shows flair and as early as 1807 he made a clever drawing of a relatively complex group (Fig. 6) , while the difficult figure of Marsyas was already well captured in 1808 and clearly evinces his growing knowledge o f anatomy, proportion , foreshortening and the effects of light (Fig. 7). The same development can be observed in his portrait drawings. That of Gerardus Vrolik (1775-1859, Fig.8), a professor at the Atheneum Illustre (the future university) and Scheffer' s teacher, with whom he always kept in touch (Note 6), is still not entirely convincing, but a portrait of 1809, thought to be of his mother (Fig.9, Note 7), shows him working much more systematically. It is not known when he left the Academy, but from the summer of 1809 we find him in France, where he was to live with only a few breaks from 1811 to his death. The first paintings and the Amsterdam exhibitions of 1808 and 1810 Ary Scheffer's earliest known history painting, Hannibal Swearing to Avenge his Brother Hasdrubal's Death (Fig. 10) Notes 8-10) was shown at the first exhibition of living masters in Amsterdam in 1808. Although there was every reason for giving this subject a Neo-Classical treatment, the chiaroscuro, earthy colours and free brushwork show Scheffer opting for the old Dutch tradition rather than the modern French style. This was doubtless on the prompting of his parents,for a comment in a letter from his mother in 1810 (Note 12) indicates that she shared the reservations of the Dutch in general about French Neo-Classicism. (Note 11). As the work of a twelve to thirteen year old, the painting naturally leaves something to be desired: the composition is too crowded and unbalanced and the anatomy of the secondary figures rudimentary. In a watercolour Scheffer made of the same subject, probably in the 1820's, he introduced much more space between the figures (Fig. 11, Note 13). Two portraits are known from this early period. The first, of Johanna Maria Verbeek (Fig. 12, Note 14), was done when the two youngsters were aged twelve. It again shows all the characteristics of an early work, being schematic in its simplicity, with some rather awkward details and inadequate plasticity. On the other hand the hair and earrings are fluently rendered, the colours harmonious and the picture has an undeniable charm. At the second exhibition of works by living masters in 1810, Ary Scheffer showed a 'portrait of a painter' (Fig. 13), who was undoubtedly his uncle Arnoldus Lamme, who also had work in the exhibition as did Scheffer's recently deceased father Johan-Bernard and his mother Cornelia Scheffer-Lamme, an indication of the stimulating surroundings in which he grew up. The work attracted general attention (Note 16) and it does, indeed, show a remarkable amount of progress, the plasticity, effects of light, brushwork and colour all revealing skill and care in their execution. The simple, bourgeois character of the portrait not only fits in with the Dutch tradition which Scheffer had learned from both his parents in Amsterdam, but also has points in common with the recent developments in France, which he could have got to know during his spell in Lille from autumn 1809 onwards. A Dutchman in Paris Empire and Restoration, 1811-30 In Amsterdam Scheffer had also been laught by his mother, a miniature painter, and his father, a portrait and history painter (Note 17). After his father's death in June 1809, his mother, who not only had a great influence on his artistic career, but also gave his Calvinism and a great love of literature (Note 18), wanted him to finish his training in Paris. After getting the promise of a royal grant from Louis Napoleon for this (Note 19) and while waiting for it to materialize, she sent the boy to Lille to perfect his French as well as further his artistic training. In 1811 Scheffer settled in Paris without a royal grant or any hope of one. He may possibly have studied for a short time under Prudhon (Note 20) , but in the autumn of 1811 he was officially contracted as a pupil of Guérin, one of the leading artists of the school of David, under whom he mastered the formulas of NeD-Classicism, witness his Orpheus and Eurydice (Fïg.14), shown in the Salon of 1814. During his first ten years in Paris Scheffer also painted many genre pieces in order, so he said, to earn a living for himself and his mother. Guérin's prophecy that he would make a great career as a history painter (Note 21) soon came true, but not in the way Guérin thought it would, Scheffer participating in the revolution initiated by his friends and fellow-pupils, Géricault and Delacroix, which resulted in the rise of the Romantic Movement. It was not very difficult for him to break with Neo-Classicism, for with his Dutch background he felt no great affinity with it (Note 22). This development is ilustrated by his Gaston de Foix Dying on the Battlefield After his Victory at Ravenna, shown at the Salon of 1824, and The Women of Souli Throwing Themselves into the Abyss (Fig.15), shown at that of 1827-8. The last years of the Restoration and the July Monarchy. Influence of Rembrandt and the Dutch masters In 1829, when he seemed to have become completely assimilated in France and had won wide renown, Scheffer took the remarkable step of returning to the Netherlands to study the methods of Rembrandt and other Dutch old masters (Note 23) . A new orientation in his work is already apparent in the Women of Souli, which is more harmonious and considered in colour than the Gaston dc Foix (Note 24). This is linked on the one hand to developments in France, where numbers of young painters had abandoned extreme Romanticism to find the 'juste milieu', and on the other to Scheffer's Dutch background. Dutch critics were just as wary of French Romanticism as they had been of Neo-Classicism, urging their own painters to revive the traditions of the Golden Age and praising the French painters of the 'juste milieu'. It is notable how many critics commented on the influence of Rembrandt on Scheffer's works, e.g. his Faust, Marguérite, Tempête and portrait of Talleyrand at the Salon of 1851 (Note 26). The last two of these date from 1828 and show that the reorientation and the interest in Rembrandt predate and were the reasons for the return to the Netherlands in 1829. In 1834 Gustave Planche called Le Larmoyeur (Fig. 16) a pastiche of Rembrandt and A. Barbier made a comparable comment on Le Roi de Thule in 1839 (Note 27). However, as Paul Mantz already noted in 1850 (Note 28), Scheffer certainly did not fully adopt Rembrandt's relief and mystic light. His approach was rather an eclectic one and he also often imbued his work with a characteristically 19th-century melancholy. He himself wrote after another visit to the Netherlands in 1849 that he felt he had touched a chord which others had not attempted (Note 29) . Contacts with Dutch artists and writers Scheffer's links with the Netherlands come out equally or even more strongly in the many contacts he maintained there. As early as 1811-12 Sminck-Pitloo visited him on his way to Rome (Note 30), to be followed in the 1820's by J.C. Schotel (Note 31), while after 1830 as his fame increased, so the contacts also became more numerous. He was sought after by and corresponded with various art dealers (Note 33) and also a large number of Dutch painters, who visited him in Paris or came to study under him (Note 32) Numerous poems were published on paintings by him from 1838 onwards, while Jan Wap and Alexander Ver Huell wrote at length about their visits to him (Note 34) and a 'Scheffer Album' was compiled in 1859. Thus he clearly played a significant role in the artistic life of the Netherlands. International orientation As the son of a Dutch mother and a German father, Scheffer had an international orientation right from the start. Contemporary critics and later writers have pointed out the influences from English portrait painting and German religious painting detectable in his work (Note 35). Extracts from various unpublished letters quoted here reveal how acutely aware he was of what was likely to go down well not only in the Netherlands, but also in a country like England, where he enjoyed great fame (Notes 36-9) . July Monarchy and Second Empire. The last decades While most French artists of his generation seemed to have found their definitive style under the July Monarchy, Scheffer continued to search for new forms of expression. In the 1830's, at the same time as he painted his Rembrandtesque works, he also produced his famous Francesca da Rimini (Fig. 17), which is closer to the 'juste milieu' in its dark colours and linear accents. In the 1840's he used a simple and mainly bright palette without any picturesque effects, e.g. in his SS. Augustine and Monica and The Sorrows of the Earth (Note 41), but even this was not his last word. In an incident that must have occurred around 1857 he cried out on coming across some of his earlier works that he had made a mistake since then and wasted his time (Note 42) and in his Calvin of 1858 (Fig. 18) he resumed his former soft chiaroscuro and warm tones. It is characteristic of him that in that same year he painted a last version of The Sorrows of the Earth in the light palette of the 1840's. Despite the difficulty involved in the precise assessment of influences on a painter with such a complex background, it is clear that even in his later period, when his work scored its greatest successes in France, England and Germany, Scheffer always had a strong bond with the Netherlands and that he not only contributed to the artistic life there, but always retained a feeling for the traditions of his first fatherland. Appendix An appendix is devoted to a study of the head of an old man in Dordrecht, which is catalogued as a copy of a 17th-century painting in the style of Rembrandt done by Ary Scheffer at the age of twelve (Fig.19, Note 43). This cannot be correct, as it is much better than the other works by the twelve-year-old painter. Moreover, no mention is made of it in the catalogue of the retrospective exhibition held in Paris in 1859, where the Hannibal is given as his earliest work (Note 44). It was clearly unknown then, as it is not mentioned in any of the obituaries of 1858 and 1859 either. The earliest reference to it occurs in the list made bv Scheffer's daughter in 1897 of the works she was to bequeath to the Dordrecht museum. A clue to its identification may be a closely similar drawing by Cornelia Scheffer-Lamme (Fig. 20, Note 46), which is probably a copy after the head of the old man. She is known to have made copies after contemporary and 17th-century masters. The portrait might thus be attributable to Johan-Bernard Scheffer, for his wife often made copies of his works and he is known from sale catalogues to have painted various portraits of old men (Note 47, cf. Fig.21). Ary Scheffer also knew this. In 1839 his uncle Arnoldus Lamme wrote to him that he would look out for such a work at a sale (Note 48). It may be that he succeeded in finding one and that this portrait came into the possession of the Scheffer family in that way, but Johan-Bernard's work is too little known for us to be certain about this.

Nowadays the environmental issues and the climatic change play fundamental roles in the design of urban spaces. Our cities are growing in size, many times only following immediate needs without a long-term vision. Consequently, the sustainable development has become not only an ethical but also a strategic need: we can no longer afford an uncontrolled urban expansion. One serious effect of the territory industrialisation process is the increase of urban air and surfaces temperatures compared to the outlying rural surroundings. This difference in temperature is what constitutes an urban heat island (UHI). The purpose of this study is to provide a clarification on the role of urban surfacing materials in the thermal dynamics of an urban space, resulting in useful indications and advices in mitigating UHI. With this aim, 4 coloured concrete bricks were tested, measuring their emissivity and building up their heat release curves using infrared thermography. Two emissivity evaluation procedures were carried out and subsequently put in comparison. Samples performances were assessed, and the influence of the colour on the thermal behaviour was investigated. In addition, some external pavements were analysed. Albedo and emissivity parameters were evaluated in order to understand their thermal behaviour in different conditions. Surfaces temperatures were recorded in a one-day measurements campaign. ENVI-met software was used to simulate how the tested materials would behave in two typical urban scenarios: a urban canyon and a urban heat basin. Improvements they can carry to the urban microclimate were investigated. Emissivities obtained for the bricks ranged between 0.92 and 0.97, suggesting a limited influence of the colour on this parameter. Nonetheless, white concrete brick showed the best thermal performance, whilst the black one the worst; red and yellow ones performed pretty identical intermediate trends. De facto, colours affected the overall thermal behaviour. Emissivity parameter was measured in the outdoor work, getting (as expected) high values for the asphalts. Albedo measurements, conducted with a sunshine pyranometer, proved the improving effect given by the yellow paint in terms of solar reflection, and the bad influence of haze on the measurement accuracy. ENVI-met simulations gave a demonstration on the effectiveness in thermal improving of some tested materials. In particular, results showed good performances for white bricks and granite in the heat basin scenario, and painted concrete and macadam in the urban canyon scenario. These materials can be considered valuable solutions in UHI mitigation.

碩士
國立臺灣科技大學
資訊工程系
105
The aesthetic elements of painted artworks are defined by the masterpieces of renowned artists. Their signature style elements can easily attract consumer attention. Thus, many studies have proposed digital interactive art systems. Utilizing the latest virtual reality technology, audience can experience famous paintings as if they are in the painting themselves. However, creating a scene resembling paintings requires countless man-hour. To solve this problem, we propose a 3D scene stylization system, which automatically extracts the elements of painting, including color, tone, texture pattern and rhythm then applies to a 3D scene. In the rendering stage, our system designed a scene preprocess to analysis 3D models' information to create point clouds for point-based rendering framework. During the rendering process, strokes are distributed to 3D models according to the color distribution of the original painting and ratio of each model's occupying area in the scene to the total area of the scene then blends the strokes linearly to generate in-between maps. Using in-between maps to synthesize brightness change over a 3D surface, an initial stylization result of 3D models is achieved, as luminance variation on 3D models can be maintained. Our system also considers a painting's flow and normal map to make sure target scene resembles the original painting uses silhouette to maintain the shape of a 3D model. After scene stylization is complete, we applied the result to a VR system and achieved 90fps in our experiment. To evaluate our system's performance, we conducted two user studies to evaluate if our stylization is consistent with the original painting and verify our stroke sets approximate reference painting better than other method.

This chapter explains how national histories, ‘intended to explain at length the legitimacy of a present secular power’, certainly abounded in Western Europe during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. However, neither that eventual ubiquity, nor the mirage of genealogical continuity from the barbarian successor states in Western Europe to the modern nation states of Western Europe, should distort one's view of the immediate post-Roman centuries. There was a continuous tradition of universal histories (often in chronicle format) witnessing a perception of the past as springing from the beginning of the world, including all human time, painted on a worldwide canvas, and embracing one's own history. But the perception of the past as the story of a single, barbarian led, post-Roman state was a rarity.

Virginia Stephen enjoyed the happiest summers of her life in St. Ives until the lease of Talland House was sold in 1895. The Stephen family were actively involved in the St. Ives’ arts scene: Leslie and Julia were among the first to join the St. Ives Arts Club; while in St. Ives Vanessa (Woolf records) enjoyed “painting in water-colours, and scratching a number of black little squares, after Ruskin’s prescription”(MOB 31); leading local painters Louis Grier and Julius Olsson were known to the family and dined at Talland House; Vanessa, as other painters, shopped at Lanham’s art shop and attended the annual Studio Day; Woolf’s half-brothers played cricket when the St. Ives Artists’ Eleven played. The artist Lily Kirkpatrick, lover of Edith Ellis, lived close by in Talland Road from 1893. Many London artists, including Vanessa and Virginia’s friend Eliza (Lisa) Stillman visited Talland House. Following the scholarship of Marion Dell, Diane Gillespie, Leslie Hankins, and Marion Whybrow this paper will examine these moments of St. Ives art and their possible impact on Virginia Woolf. Woolf’s first memories of St. Ives she recorded aesthetically “if I were a painter I should paint these first impressions in pale yellow, silver and green” (MOB 66).

Woolf expands her 1926 diary. In February, she begins “a new convention”: starting each entry on a new page, her “habit in writing serious literature.” In May, she reaches outward toward public history with a diary of the General Strike. She then turns inward for eleven titled “State of Mind” probes: probes of the boundaries between sense, thought, and art. In October, she imagines “an endeavour at something mystic, spiritual; the thing that exists when we aren’t there.” The diaries she reads propel her toward this place. Across the year Woolf returns often to Beatrice Webb’s memoir My Apprenticeship, woven around diary extracts. These extracts supply notions for To the Lighthouse, The Waves, Flush, and Three Guineas—and especially for A Room of One’s Own and “Professions for Women.” In September, Woolf reviews the Journals of Thomas Cobden-Sanderson. His questing journals encourage Woolf’s search for “the mystical side of this solitude,” she writes, or what Webb calls the great Unknown. Soon after, Woolf reviews the Life of Benjamin Robert Haydon, Historical Painter, from his Autobiography and Journals. Haydon’s Journals offer her a memorable moment for To the Lighthouse and matter for A Room of One’s Own—and more.

Many artists and designers borrow, cite, or seek inspiration in external source materials in their daily creative practice. The aim of this chapter is to show that imitation of external source material offers creative professionals the opportunity to introduce an element of surprise to the creative act, which may explain why a creative product with very little or no originality whatsoever can nevertheless gain reputation as being creative. The literature on imitation in psychology and the humanities will be reviewed in parallel to a recent suggestion in creativity research to give more prominence to the criterion of surprise in the study of creativity. The potential benefit of imitation for creativity in art and design will be illustrated with a description of the working practices of the prominent painter Gerhard Richter and the famous car designer J Mays – two contemporary creative professionals renowned for usage of external source material in their own creative work.

We are no doubt still far from having done with the humanist aesthetic regime, which has lead us to install the image in the element of natural light. As Alberti wrote in his De pictura of 1435, ‘The painter is only interested in that which is capable of being seen in light’. Such a regime of evidence prevents capturing the problematic nature of the image on a fundamental level. It still inhabits us nowadays, in our deepest, both spontaneous and erudite aesthetic reflexes. Notably it is in this regime that the discipline of the history of art develops, perpetuating thus the anti-philosophy practiced by re-born humanism, precisely in the name of the evidence of painting. Re-introducing a problematic dimension is not conceived here epistemologically (making a problem for a subject of consciousness, spectator, historian, art-theoretician…), but rather ontologically, that is to say, in itself. In other words, how to think a problematic sensibility? This presupposes giving up the clarity of the image, even if it is not certain that invoking an ‘obscure clarity’ would suffice for thinking a light-problem. More adequately, intensity seems to be situated before the light, as it modalizes the manners of appearing. The decisive problem is how not to dissolve intensity into qualitative evidences (the aspects, the colours) and extensive evidences (visible forms), while still recognizing that intensity cannot be given without them. These problematic and intensive conditions may rather enable a thought which would no longer be the prerogative-privilege of concepts, and furthermore may enable the rising of plastic ideas.

The above quote by the German poet, novelist, and painter Herman Hesse highlights the cultural significance of forests in nineteenth- and twentieth-century western culture as the ‘natural’ contrast to growing urban populations and industrial expansion. Hesse’s focus on the ‘ancient’ element of these environments is certainly valid in a tropical context, given that tropical forests are some of the oldest land-based environments on the planet, existing for over one thousand times longer than Homo sapiens (Upchurch and Wolf, 1987; Davis et al., 2005; Ghazoul and Shiel, 2010; Couvreur et al., 2011). This antiquity also makes them one of the richest and most diverse terrestrial ecosystems on the planet (Whitmore, 1998; Ghazoul and Shiel, 2010). Tropical rainforests, for example, contain over half of the world’s existing plant, animal, and insect species (Wilson, 1988). A significant portion of the developed world’s diet today originated in tropical forests—including staples such as squash and yams, spices such as black pepper, cinnamon, cloves, and sugar cane, and fruits including bananas, coconuts, avocados, mangoes, and tomatoes (Iriarte et al., 2007; Roberts et al., 2017a). Tropical forests also often provide ample freshwater for their inhabitants. However, despite popular perceptions of forests, and specifically tropical forests, as uniform, they are, in fact, highly variable across space and time. In tropical evergreen rainforests productivity is often primarily allocated to wood products, meaning that edible plants and animals for human subsistence have been considered lacking, or at least more difficult to extract, relative to more open tropical forest formations (Whitmore, 1998; Ghazoul and Shiel, 2010). Similarly, while evergreen tropical rainforests generally receive significant precipitation and freshwater, seasonally dry tropical forests are subject to sub-annual periods of aridity. Therefore, while archaeologists and anthropologists have tended to see ‘tropical forest’ as a uniform environmental block, it is important to explore the diversity within this category.

The Picts surprisingly escaped critical scrutiny at the time that the Celts were subject to deconstruction, though their status in popular mythology is even more tenuous. The explanation of the name as Roman army slang for ‘painted savages’ is probably false etymology, and it seems unlikely that any native population would call themselves by the derogatory name, equivalent to ‘Wogs’, used by their colonial oppressors. It was more probably a term, misunderstood by the Roman military, for non-Romanized north Britons, and was certainly not an ethnic term until adopted much later by the people of eastern Scotland in the face of incursions by Anglians, Gaelish Scots, and Vikings. Few if any categories of archaeological monument are typical of this eastern Scottish region, though standing stones with symbols and later cross slabs are concentrated here. The language of the Picts was Celtic, and the notion of a distinctive tradition of matrilineal descent is now widely discredited. Pit-names are mainly from a later date, and early place names are not notably coincident with any supposed ‘Pictish homeland’. Recent research has suggested that simpler forms of symbols on portable stones originated in the third or fourth century. Symbols on stones may have served as funerary markers or on land boundaries, and may have incorporated an element of language, possibly names. This was evidently an important period in the coalescence of populations in the process of state formation.

This upper-storey unit, or apartment, was accessed through entranceway I 10,5, which consists of a stairway between the two rooms of Unit I 10,6. Eleven masonry steps of this stairway remain. According to Ling, the apartment consisted of a room above the rear room of Unit I 10,6 (room 6A) and rooms above rooms 5–7 of the Casa del Menandro. Elia reported a semi-elliptical lararium niche (dimensions: 1.77 m × 0.65 m, d.: 150 mm) at the foot of the stairs, painted with a green festoon and red and yellow flowers. However, it is not certain that this decoration would identify it as a lararium. A downpipe in the north-east corner of room 6A in Unit I 10,6 has been used as evidence for the presence of a latrine in the upper room although this could equally have been for roof drainage. The only finds conceivably from this apartment, were a bronze buckle and possibly those items recorded above room 5 of the Casa del Menandro (cat. nos. 908–917a). There is insufficient evidence to substantiate its identification as a brothel. This was an area with a wide opening onto the street to the north of this insula. The pavement was of mortar and the walls were furbished with a high cocciopesto socle with coarse plaster above. In the south-west corner is a rectangular structure consisting of two low walls which enclosed two basins (each 1.05 m × 0.88 m) cut into the pavement, with a large drainage channel in front. Ling identifies these as washing-basins. The loose finds in this room, at pavement level, consisted of: two rectangular marble bases, likely to have been for display furniture such as marble tables or basins; four larger rectangular marble bases possibly for statuary; three other cylindrical marble supports; and a small marble capital. A clay lamp was also found in the entranceway, in the volcanic deposit. Elia interpreted the structure in the south-west corner as a ‘saltus fullonicus’, thus identifying this establishment as a fullers’ workshop. Ling points out that these basins ‘could have been used in various crafts’ and he suggests, on the basis of the stone pieces, that this was the workshop of a specialist stone-carver.

In our search for the ultimate law, P, that allows us to encode the whole of reality we have come across a very fundamental obstacle. As Deutsch argued, P cannot be all-encompassing, simply because it cannot explain its own origins. We need a law more fundamental than P, from which P can be derived. But then this more fundamental law also needs to come from somewhere. This is like the metaphor of the painter in the lunatic asylum, who is trying to paint a picture of the garden he is sitting in. He can never find a way to completely include himself in the picture and gets caught in an infinite regression. Does this mean we can never understand the whole of reality? Maybe so, given that any postulate that we start from needs its own explanation. Any law that underlies reality ultimately needs an a priori law. This puts us in a bit of a ‘Catch 22’ situation. So, are we resigned to failure or is there a way out? Is there some fundamental level at which events have no a priori causes and we can break the infinite regression? What does it mean for an event to have no a priori cause? This means that, even with all prior knowledge, we cannot infer that this event will take place. Furthermore, if there were genuinely acausal events in this Universe, this would imply a fundamentally random element of reality that cannot be reduced to anything deterministic. This is a hugely controversial area, with various proponents of religion, science, and philosophy all having a quite contrasting set of views on this. Often people get very emotional over this question, as it has profound implications for us as human beings. Could it be that some events just don’t have first causes? The British philosopher Bertrand Russell thought so. In Russell’s famous debate with Reverend Copleston on the origin of the world, Copleston thought everything must have a cause, and therefore the world has a cause – and this cause is ultimately God himself.

Like a painter, the practitioner of perimetry must learn his or her profession from experience. Just as a painting does not spring from the paint and brushes alone, the perimetrist does get his or her diagnosis from just a printout of the field test. Rather, the perimetrist’s experience in interpreting field test results, his clinical skill in examining the validity of the patient’s performance, and his selection of the needed field technique chosen under the appropriate clinical circumstances combine to produce a suitable test and interpretation of results. In this age of computerization, we tend to accept the infallibility of perimetry. It is true that new developments have corrected some of the errors in technique that have been troubling in earlier methods such as the tangent screen and Goldmann perimeter. However, in our rush to embrace these new techniques, we might forget that there is still a place for these older techniques in selected cases. Among other things, these older techniques may allow for a human element to be introduced when the patient is overwhelmed by technology—that is, a well-performed tangent screen is more valuable on a given occasion than a poorly performed computerized field examination. Such circumstances occur almost always with neuro-ophthalmology patients, who are usually ill in other ways than just visually and need more help in performing the test. Most other patients, particularly those with glaucoma, are much more reliable in their responses in using the newer techniques. They frequently start testing at a younger age and do their testing frequently so they become skilled at performing the test. Many neuro-ophthalmologic patients do not have that experience. Interpreting the blind spot remains a standard part of any field examination. Interpreting the blind spot size requires experience. The blind spot may be enlarged because the patient is a slow responder or because a large myopic crescent is present. An important use of measuring the blind spot is to show the patient what a scotoma is and to test his validity of fixation by putting the target in the blind spot from time to time.

Cathodic protection (CP) design of pipelines is generally described in internationally recognized standards and recommended practices. However, not all cases can be solved by conventional CP calculations as recommended approaches and methods may not be fully defined in the standards. For instance, Glass fibre Reinforced Polyester (GRP) covers can be applied for mechanical protection (e.g. from trawl and/or dropped object) of subsea pipelines and structures. These GRP covers will restrict the electrical/ionic current lines between the anode and the steel surface to be cathodically protected. For a spool with in-line components requiring a large current (e.g. painted or bare steel) and with a GRP cover it may be difficult to obtain sufficient cathodic protection when applying simple mathematical calculations. This paper describes how the Finite Element Method (FEM) in COMSOL Multiphysics can be applied to show that the potential is acceptable for such cases.

Abstract: In 1921, issue 11-12 of L’Esprit Nouveau featured an article entitled “Toepffer, précurseur du cinema” where Le Corbusier, signing as ‘De Fayet’, vindicated the figure of Rodolphe Töpffer (1799-1846), a Swiss a pioneer of comics, as a key element in the development of cinema. Marginal as it may seem, this reference unveils a deeper relationship between Jeanneret and Töpffer’s work which started in his childhood, and would have a key role in the development of some of Le Corbusier’s trademark obsessions: travel, drawing, and cinematic narratives. In this context, “La Ligne Claire de Le Corbusier” proposes a close examination of the presence of graphic narrative and its aesthetics in Le Corbusier's early work in relation to its evolution from a sequential promenade architecturale to multispatial enjambment. The paper explores themes such as narrative and the inclusion of time in le Corbusier's Purist paintings, or his evolution from a painterly approach to drawing to an idealized, linear and synthetic rendering style. Keywords: Sequence; Enjambment; Purism; Avant-Garde; Töpffer ; Bande Dessinée. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.4995/LC2015.2015.814

Recent demands for a reduction of specific fuel consumption of jet engines have been opposed by increasing propulsive efficiency with higher bypass ratios and increased engine sizes. At the same time the challenge for the engine development is to design safe and efficient fan blades of high aspect ratios. Since the fan is the very first rotor stage, it experiences significant distortions in the incoming flow depending on the operating conditions. Flow distortions do not only lead to a performance and stall margin loss but also to remarkable low engine order (LEO) excitation responsible for forced vibrations of fundamental modes. Additionally, fans of jet engines typically suffer from stall flutter, which can be additionally amplified by reflections of acoustic pressure waves at the intake. Stall flutter appears before approaching the stall line on the fan’s characteristic and limits its stable operating range. Despite the fact that this “flutter bite” usually affects only a very narrow speed range, it reduces the overall margin of safe operation significantly. With increasing aspect ratios of ultra-high bypass ratio jet engines the flutter susceptibility will probably increase further and emphasizes the importance of considering aeromechanical analyses early in the design phase of future fans. This paper aims at proving that intentional mistuning is able to remove the flutter bite of modern jet engine fans without raising issues due to heavily increased forced vibrations induced by LEO excitation. Whereas intentional mistuning is an established technology in mitigating flutter, it is also known to amplify the forced response. However, recent investigations considering aeroelastic coupling revealed that under specific circumstances mistuning can also reduce the forced response due to engine order excitation. In order to allow a direct comparison and to limit costs as well as effort at the same time, the intentional mistuning is introduced in a non-destructive way by applying heavy paint to the blades. Its impact on the blade’s natural frequencies is estimated via finite element models with an additional paint layer. In parallel, this procedure is experimentally verified with painted fan blades in the laboratory. A validated SNM (subset of nominal system modes) representation of the fan is used as a computational model to characterize its mistuned vibration behavior. Its validation is done by comparing mistuned mode shape envelopes and frequencies of an experimental modal analysis at rest with those obtained by the updated computational model. In order to find a mistuning pattern minimizing the forced response of mode 1 and 2 at the same time and satisfying stability and imbalance constraints, a multi-objective optimization has been carried out. Finally, the beneficial properties of the optimized mistuning pattern are verified in a rig test of the painted rotor.

A strip of galvanised steel passes at high speed down a large-scale paint line. The strip is coated with various organic or polymer based paints that are cured as the strip is passed through a series of chambers in a convection oven. Each oven chamber is lined above and below by nozzles which blow heated air at high velocity over the strip, serving the dual purpose of curing the paint and maintaining the strip in flotation. The purpose of this work has been to generate a greater understanding of the transient heat transfer mechanisms taking place in the micro layers of the strip by developing a 1-D finite element computer model. This model allows sensitivity analyses to be performed in real time on process parameters with the ultimate goal of optimising the curing rate of the paint for a more economical running of the process. Heat transfer coefficients for the convective heating are derived from film theory, and a comparative empirical model has also been derived for comparison. Further comparison has also been obtained from a full-scale three-dimensional Computational Fluid Dynamic (CFD) model of the ovens using FLUENT. The CFD modelling has allowed existing heat transfer coefficients to be refined taking into account complicating factors such as turbulence of the hotair flow impinging upon the strip and the rapid movement of the strip itself. Results have highlighted the sensitivity of the finite element and empirical models to the heat transfer coefficients being used. Using the model, a matrix of over temperatures for required peak metal temperature (PMT) of the strip was obtained. These temperatures were significantly lower than currently used values allowing long-term cost savings for the running process to be calculated.