Journal articles on the topic 'Self-figuration'

This work will analyze the short story Hombre de la esquina rosada by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges, in order to establish a relationship between the textual image created by Borges and the concept of Self-Figuration proposed by critic José Amícola (who builds upon the work of critic Sylvia Molloy). In order to further this analysis a brief historical review will be made, particularly focused on the appearance of Autobiography as a genre in the Eighteenth Century and its later consolidation in both Europe and Argentina during the Nineteenth Century. This historical relationship will be used to help analyze the concept of SelfFiguration in the specific case of Borges. Subsequently, this analysis will consider Borges' relationship with cutlers' stories, the relationship of these stories with larger literary tradition and, finally, the Argentine author's Self-Figuration in the tale "Man on the Pink Corner." Commentary from theorist Jesus Davila will also be used to analyze significant features of Borges' cutler's stories and identify elements of said stories which could contribute to Borges' Self-Figuration.

Abstract The phoenix (ʿanqā) appears in the philosophy of Avicenna (d.1037) as his example of a “vain intelligible,” a fictional being that exists in the soul, but not in the world. This remarkable bird is notable (along with the Earth, the moon, the sun, and God) for being a species of one. In this essay, I read the poetry Bedil of Delhi (d.1720) in conversation with the philosophical system of Avicenna, arguing that the phoenix in Bedil’s own philosophical system functions as a key figuration that allows him simultaneously to articulate rigorous impersonal systematic ideas and to document his individual first-personal experiences of those ideas. The phoenix also plays a metaliterary role, allowing Bedil to reflect on this way of doing philosophy in the first person—a method founded on the lyric enrichment of Avicennan rationalism. Paying attention to the adjacencies between poetry and philosophy in Bedil, this essay traces the phoenix’s transformations from a famous philosophical example into one of Bedil’s most striking figurations in his arguments about imagination, mind, and self.

If the dominant ethico-philosophical thinking of responsibility in the West is founded upon, or tied to a certain figure of death, it is because this ethical notion of responsibility is also a certain econo-onto-thanatology. Here the notion of the gift to the other is always already inscribed within a certain economic equivalence of value, or an economic determination of temporality as the geometric figure of the circle, or a certain economy of the experiences of abandonment and mourning, through which the event-character of the gift, its excess and its infinite surplus is economised, reduced, repressed, or even annulled. Reading Jacques Derrida's deconstruction of this econo-onto-thanatology, and relating him to Schelling, Heidegger, Levinas and Kierkegaard, this article attempts to reveal this very complex relationship of the ethical notion of responsibility and the gift with death, in order to think anew – in the spirit of Derrida – a responsibility in relation to mourning and abandonment, and in relation to a death that does not figure in any figuration of self-figuration and self-presence, but – to speak with Maurice Blanchot – as interminable, incessant worklessness, as endless ruination and abandonment of itself. This impossible aporia of the notion of responsibility is itself a dis-figuring of death, which is also an aporia of an instant which escapes, in its event character, the geometric figure of time as circle.

This article suggests that the historical figuration of Islam as well as the discourse of secularization has played a fundamental role in the constitution of Islam’s externality to Europe. The historical figuration of Islam as Europe’s enemy is haunting Europe. The European secularist anxiety today, which insists on the separation between the domains of the private and the public needs to be understood against the backdrop of this history. If Islam’s inability to separate the religious and the political was historically the dominant motif through which Islam was registered as the arch-enemy, the post-secular, post-Enlightenment period registers Islam as an enemy through a cultural gesture. Derrida’s understanding of spectrality and the concept autoimmunity are deployed to suggest that Islam as a specter haunting Europe undermines the sovereign constitution of a self-identical Europe, but this haunting needs to be seen as Europe’s chance for a self-destructive conservation of Europe. European identity has to be rethought and renewed differently and this rethinking requires that we attend to the present as well as the past and future of Europe, which requires the opening of Europe to otherness and responsibility to the other. Such a rethinking of Europe’s history necessitates thinking about colonialism as well the living embodiments of this colonial legacy today, which are the immigrants.

This article theorizes the colonial problem of peoplehood that Indian anticolonial thinkers grappled with in their attempts to conceptualize self-rule, or swaraj. British colonial rule drew its legitimacy from a developmentalist conception of the colonized people as backward and disunited. The discourse of “underdeveloped” colonial peoplehood rendered the Indian people “unfit” for self-government, suspending their sovereignty to an indefinite future. The concept of swaraj would be born with the rejection of deferred colonial self-government. Yet the persistence of the developmentalist figuration of the people generated a crisis of sovereign authorization. The pre-Gandhian swaraj theorists would be faced with the not-yet claimable figure of the people at the very moment of disavowing the British claim to rule. Recovering this underappreciated pre-Gandhian history of the concept of swaraj and reinterpreting its Gandhian moment, this article offers a new reading of Gandhi's theory of moral self-rule. In so doing, it demonstrates how the history of swaraj helps trace the colonial career of popular sovereignty.

This paper seeks to synthesize aspects of feminism and figurational (process) sociology. Women’s bodies are viewed as sites for studying interrelationships between power, gender, and identity construction. The behavioral and emotional rituals of women in a specific aerobics class are mapped out and located within the “exercise–body beautiful complex.” We explore the way in which social constraints and individual self-control interweave in the rationalized management of women’s bodies. The embodied experiences of these women are intertwined with long term enabling and constraining features. Covertly disempowering, the “exercise–body beautiful complex” reinforces established standards of femininity. The realignment of dominant images of femininity is advocated in order to extend the liberating features of the figuration in question.

Romeo and Juliet has often been considered one of Shakespeare’s most self-conscious explorations into language and how it signifies. This article explores what three specific rhetorical strategies imply about how language communicates. First, it looks at the logical power of figuration and how it breaks down language into ambivalence, ambiguity and double-meaning. Second, it introduces the term ‘echolocation’ to allow for a study of the way patterns of repetition of identical or similar sounds and words within different figures can convey argument, and follows the indications of crisis, balance and stasis in the language of the text, and third it examines tellings, retellings and foretellings, as they expose language attempting to determine and simultaneously destabilize significance. While the focus of the study is on the action of language, some consideration is made of the way that identity and language are open to analogous patterns of construction and limitation, and how the reader, audience and theatre practitioner may use those patterns in building a sense of character-part.

Focusing on The PowerBook and The Stone Gods, this article explores the ways in which Jeanette Winterson articulates the interconnections between consciousness and memory, delineates their role in identity formation and reveals how posthuman subjects’ practices of embodiment work to undermine both heteronormative and anthropocentric worldviews. The technologically inscribed bodies of the characters portrayed in these two novels, together with Winterson’s rhizomatic conceptualization of space and her vertical figuration of time, allow for the time-travelling endeavours of e-storyteller Ali/x and of Robo-sapiens-cum-Robo-head Spike. Such fictional entities prompt investigations into the essence of social-material encounters, of subject-object interdependence, of matter-energy vitality, of interaction and intra-action, of reflexive thought and of self-configuration.

Around 2010, the inventor character started to populate animated blockbusters. Computer 3D animated films and their sequels such as Robots (Chris Wedge and Carlos Saldanha, 2005), Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, 2009), Despicable Me (Pierre Coffin and Chris Renaud, 2010) and Big Hero 6 (Don Hall and Chris Williams, 2014) all feature inventors and their extravagant machines. In this article, the author explores the inventive artisan character as a self-reflexive trope of the animator. She expands Crafton’s thesis of the animator’s self-figuration and Tom Gunning’s work on machine comedy and operational aesthetics to further discussions on the animator and thereby the labour of animation. The article seeks to reveal the political agenda in the new animated machine comedy of the 2010s, which not only reflects the modes of production of contemporary animation studios, but also the larger concerns in the post-Fordist mode of production.

This article contributes to the new formalism by considering the relation between literary form and race. It argues that Chang-rae Lee's novel Native Speaker is primarily concerned with its own figurative activity and that only when the analytic framework is shifted away from Asian America and toward allegory does the novel's far-ranging critique of whiteness, referential language, and native speaking become apparent. This figurative activity consists of strategies of concealment that disguise their artfulness by posing as self-evident or referential. Race, espionage, and allegory are examples of this representational mode, defined by hiding in plain sight. As part of a larger argument for formal analysis in Asian American literature, the article explores how the novel's central tropes figure the figuration of Asian American experience, and it seeks to demonstrate how reading for form can sharpen the politics of race.

This article addresses Lucy Hutchinson’s Order and Disorder, an epic, twenty-canto retelling of Genesis. Scholars have often considered Hutchinson’s poem an inferior version of Paradise Lost insofar as it does not transgress biblical narrative. Attending to the poem’s portrayal of childbearing in relation to seventeenth-century birthing prayers and affect theory, this article demonstrates how Hutchinson’s figuration of the body belies any notion of her poem as “Christian cliché.” The article argues that the political value of Order and Disorder stems not from Hutchinson’s depiction of motherhood as a prototype of self-possessed, liberal political agency, but from her account of affective feeling as unbinding woman from any fixed position or category. Finally, the article shows how Hutchinson’s depiction of childbearing, as an ongoing process rather than a teleological event, parallels her understanding of both poetry and providence.

AbstractWayang kulit (shadow puppet theatre; henceforth “wayang”) as practiced in Java (Indonesia) has been recognized by exegetes – European and Indonesian alike – for its centrality as both a performative vehicle for and a symbolic figuration of understandings of the human developmental cycle, the variety of character models available to individuals, the precarious balance of chaos and stability in society, and kinship dialectics of conflict and complementariness. It is Java's most complex art form, in terms of dramaturgy, music, and repertoire, and also one of its most highly mediated. The beginning of what I would like to discuss is located at the end of Ward Keeler's exemplary ethnography of Central Javanese wayang and the dialogical play of selves and others in relations of hierarchy. Keeler concludes his evocative account of Javanese selves and theatre (and here I paraphrase) with the statement that “the peculiar fascination” of the dhalang in Javanese culture stems from his ability to dissimulate his self in performance. The puppeteer's voice is splintered, his presence veiled by a screen and mediated by puppets and the constraints of tradition, and his authority derived from indirect relations to a ritual sponsor, the Javanese autarchy, the ancestors, and the unseen world. “He is at once a dissembled authority, one whose power is great, non-coercive, and unworldly, and a dissembled interpreter, one who mediates between an unreal but persuasive and distracting world, and our own”.

This paper explores the figurational process in transnational families through the study of the biographical self-presentations and the life courses of family members who live apart (in Bilbao, Spain and Guayaquil, Ecuador) but remain interdependent. It asks which factors inside and outside the family figuration influence the negotiation of the fragile power balances along gender and generational lines, with what effect for the structure of positions, family norms, mutual expectations and the division of tasks. Special attention is given to the deep financial and economic crisis affecting Spain between 2008 and 2014 and how this sudden change of the context in one national society impacts the transnational family life. Results highlight the importance of the long-term pre-migration family figurational process for the way transnational family life is being shaped. They also show how a variety of influencing factors, observed during the migration period and located in different national societies and the transnational social space, is intertwined with the logic of this long-term process.

Intelligent responsive materials have become one of the most exciting fields in the research of new materials in the past few decades due to their practical and potential applications in aerospace, biomedicine, textile, electronics, and other relative fields. Here, a novel thermal-responsive biomimetic shape memory wood composite is fabricated utilizing polycaprolactone-based (PCL) shape-memory polymer to modify treated-wood. The shape memory wood inherits visual characteristics and the unique three-dimension structure of natural wood that endows the shape memory wood (SMW) with outstanding tensile strength (10.68 MPa) at room temperature. In terms of shape memory performance, the shape recovery ratio is affected by multiple factors including environment temperature, first figuration angle, cycle times, and shows different variation tendency, respectively. Compared with shape recovery ratio, the shape fixity ratio (96%) is relatively high and stable. This study supplies more possibilities for the functional applications of wood, such as biomimetic architecture, self-healing wood veneering, and intelligent furniture.

At the conclusion of “Benito Cereno” Herman Melville “elucidate[s]” a curious “item or two,” including Cereno's ultragentlemanly apparel. This return to the issue of Cereno's clothes reiterates the Yankee Delano's preoccupation with Cereno as a dandy, restaging Delano's tendency to focus unswervingly on the apparently complex markers of class superiority signaled by such genteel refinement—and, within the logic of that preoccupation, to ignore the seemingly transparent truth presented by the naked black body. Melville mobilizes the figure of the dandy. I suggest, to interrogate the Yankee's veneration of social form, a veneration at odds with the North's smug self-figuration in 1855 as homogeneously democratic and classless, as morally superior to a South reviled for its social inequalities and slaveholding. By orchestrating the encounter between Yankee and dandy, Melville maps a peculiarly northern political field, pointing to an obfuscatory rhetoric of “apparent symbol[s]” that articulates the slave only polemically and ignores him otherwise.

This article analyzes the discourse concerning the assimilation of Muslim minorities in the United States and suggests that calls for assimilation are solicitations for a form of self-renunciation and sacrifice. Yet such solicitations occur against the economic and political background of neoliberalism, in which all citizens are asked to make sacrifices for the sake of economic health. How does one read, then, the discourse of Muslim assimilation in light of the psychological, political, and economic realities of neoliberalism? The article explores the transformation of the so-called Jewish question into the contemporary concern with the “Muslim problem.” Drawing on Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer’s reflections on the affinities between capitalism and fascism (especially their reading of Odysseus), as well as Sigmund Freud’s reflections on narcissism and group psychology, the article analyzes the figure of the sacrificial victim in the context of neoliberalism’s authoritarian tendencies and argues that sacrificial figuration allows us to think past the polarizations (West/rest; Trump supporters/Muslims) of our contemporary historical moment.

Abstract This article provides a genealogy of the architectural figuration of human cognition from the ancient world to Renaissance Europe and, finally, to the American Renaissance where it came to possess a striking cultural and literary potency. The first section pursues the two-fold task of elucidating this archetypal trope for consciousness, both its ancient moorings and its eventual transmission into Europe. The second section shows that three of the most prominent writers of the American Renaissance—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Nathaniel Hawthorne—engaged this mystically inspired architectonic symbolism, employing far older techno-cultural suppositions about interior space. I thereby offer an account of the intellectual and spiritual heritage upon which Romantic writers in the United States drew to articulate cognitive interiority. These Romantics did more than value creativity in contradistinction to Enlightenment rationalism; they were acknowledging themselves as recipients of the ancient belief in cosmogenesis as self-transformation.

This essay investigates the personal check as it appears in two novels, W. E. B. Du Bois's The Quest of the Silver Fleece and James Weldon Johnson's he Autobiography of an Ex-Coloured Man. In these novels, checks move money between a wealthy white individual and an African American; a close analysis of the check's form and function shows how Du Bois and Johnson revise mid-nineteenth-century connections among feeling, money, and social change by exploiting, rather than challenging, the abstraction of this financial form. The checks in Du Bois and Johnson present the logic of reparations. In doing so, the checks make a material difference in the lives of black beneficiaries, tying them to the flow of money made possible by finance capitalism, a flow from which most African Americans were excluded. At the same time, the check's figuration of the drawer's emotional motivations salvages the potential for progressive individual actions in those whose self-interest limits their willingness to act decisively for the benefit of others.

Abstract Although nonbinary sex/gender has seen some attention in recent years in academia and popular culture, it is mostly seen through the lens of modernity, which views trans as a straight movement from one “gender identity” to another. This article aims to tell a story that is different from this narrative of modern trans identity. It is, therefore, written as an autoethnodrama rooted in the author's own embodied experience of (un)becoming genderqueer in a postsocialist borderland. The main theoretical threads are border epistemologies and the monstrous process of (un)becoming self/other, specified through the figuration of the genderqueer clown. The first scene of this drama is about orientation and clowning in a post-Soviet space in the 1990s. The second scene is about failing gender and failing the West/East divide in front of a public bathroom in 2019. The research-drama ends with drifting, drowning, and getting lost in a stream of body liquids. This opens up possibilities for affection and compassion in failing together with all the creatures who are filling that stream.

Though not explicitly addressed as such, the literary topos plays a crucial role in Russian literary theorist Victor Shklovsky’s Theory of Prose (1925). On the backdrop of a critical discussion of the ‘symbolist’ conception of literature and of the ‘ethnographical school’s’ exploration of literary motifs, Shklovsky here presents what can be understood as a genuine topological poetics: A poetics bent on the ‘formulaic’ as quintessential literary device. Rather than a figuration of the author’s ideas literary images are, according to Shklovsky, conventional formulas that circulate in language. Rather than collective commemorations of original customs literary motifs exhibit literature’s revitalization of ‘automatized’ language. Thus redefined as topoi in this most basic sense – as commonplaces or repetitions of existing forms – literary images and motifs become key to understanding ‘literariness’ itself as a redeeming ‘estrangement’ of dead language forms and to conceptualizing literary history as a chain of successive estrangements. Qualifying the topos as self-referential, estranging device, Theory of Prose thus presents an original if also thought-provoking contribution to topology. However, it ultimately rest on a today questionable literary philosophical premise: The idea of literature as a privileged discursive space where the lost ideality of the life-world is recreated.

Reviews of viet thanh nguyen's the sympathizer (2015) regularly cite the vietnamese-french-american protagonist's self-characterization: “I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces” (1). A less-cited version of the same characterization appears later in the novel: “I am a lie, a keeper, a book. No! I am a fly, a creeper, a gook. No! I am—I am—I am—” (325). Nguyen's unnamed narrator, a Northern Vietnamese spy with Southern sympathies, has exploited, betrayed, and even murdered his own. If the above statements are any indication, this Cold War history of slippery allegiances takes an existential toll. But the second statement adds a layer of intrigue. With rhyme, anaphora, and considerable theatrical aplomb, it transmutes ethnic duplicity into literary figuration and casts the narrator as another murderer with a fancy prose style. Murder and style, though, are not Nguyen's only connection to Vladimir Nabokov, whom Mark McGurl takes as iconic of the “codification and intensification of modernist reflexivity in the form of … ‘metafiction’” (9). Like Lolita and much of Nabokov's other fiction, The Sympathizer and many of Nguyen's writings hold up that special mirror of “modernist reflexivity.” For Nguyen, however, the chance to wield this mirror comes with the added responsibility of being a Vietnamese American author writing about Vietnamese America. Hence, if Nabokov's iction delivered “an elaborately performative ‘I am’” that enabled his “programmatic self-establishment” (10), Nguyen's equally performative “I am” instantiates not only an authorial program but also a political program of ethnic representation.

In its theoretical framework, my paper participates in the debate over voice ‘after’ Derrida. Drawing on poststructuralist and phenomenological approaches as well as recent contributions in the area of performance and cultural studies, I claim that the voice can be treated as an effect of resonance. Inherently performative and dialogic, the voice emerges by resonating with something else as well as by effecting resonances elsewhere. In Henry James’s The Bostonians (1886), this figuration is epitomized by the charismatic speaker Verena Tarrant. Her extraordinary public voice is read, manipulated and spoken by various figures of authority, who treat her as a stake in their struggle for power and publicity. Possessed by her vocal gift, they seek in turn to take possession of it. Yet while she lends her voice to others by echoing their ideas and phrases, catchwords and clichés, Verena simultaneously produces an impact on her audiences which eludes full appropriation. Her impersonal voice may express neither self-presence nor agency, but its effect is one of powerful resonance. Exceeding the text’s satire of the feminist movement and publicity culture, Verena’s doubly mesmeric voice refers us to an ambiguous and unresolvable fascination, both highlighted and performed by The Bostonians, for the voice in general and the public voice of modernity in particular.

This article examines Edwardian “radioactive fiction”—narratives about radium’s transformative political implications—to demonstrate how radioactivity shaped narrative form and English politics between 1898 and 1914. Recent scholarship on this period’s literary engagements with energy physics and politics shows that thermodynamics’ second law provided the narrative structures that shaped turn-of-the-century scientific, cultural, and political discourses. At this moment, however, radioactivity upended these “entropolitical” narrative forms through its seemingly endless self-regeneration. Attending to this narratological and scientific upheaval, the article argues that formal experiments as varied as Joseph Conrad’s Secret Agent ([1907] 2007) and H. G. Wells’s World Set Free (1914) exemplify a widespread regrounding of narrative and political form in a universe where the fundamental laws of energy no longer apply. The article first examines how espionage, detective, and invasion fiction, exemplified by The Secret Agent, incorporated the Edwardian press’s figuration of radium to suggest that the entropic nation-state’s raison d’être, degenerate populations, was not so entropic after all. It then examines utopian treatments of radioactivity to argue that nonentropic narrative forms modeled political orders beyond the nation-state. Through narrative chiasmus, The World Set Free figures an atomic state capable of organizing its constituent parts into a new collectivity, the global atomic commons.

Hayden White inaugurated narrativism in philosophy of history when he effected a productive displacement of earlier epistemological discussions around the relationship between narration and historical knowledge: White identified the problem of narrative in history with the problem of the use of figurative language in the representation of the past. Thus, he enabled a new way of thinking philosophy of history’s object of study by paying attention to an aspect of historical practice he considered wrongly overlooked: the writing of history. His formal theory of the historical work needs no introduction. Instead, this paper aims at reclaiming the fundamental philosophical legacy White has left us in his latest work on middle voice writing. First, I will frame White’s thought as a response to what I call the paradoxical nature of historical narrative, as Louis Mink and Roland Barthes understand it. By presenting our narrativist past as White’s ironical and liberating stance on historical narrative, I will show how he identified figuration as the paradoxical resource and constrain of historical writing. Secondly, I will elaborate on his latest inquiries into middle voice writing as pointing the way into the future of philosophy of history. Thus, I will claim that the notion of middle voice writing that White adopted from Roland Barthes should be read from the point of view of performativity theory in order to reassess the philosophical nature of historical writing now considered as the performative self-constitution of the historical subject.

This article presents data from our investigations in Kristiansand, the largest city in Southern Norway, an area sometimes called Norway’s ‘Bible belt’. We investigate how social media is reshaping social relations in the city, looking especially at how social order is generated, reinforced, and challenged on social media platforms. Drawing on the figurational sociology of Norbert Elias, as well as findings from research conducted among Muslim immigrants in Scandinavian cities and their response to what they perceive as the dominant media frame, we focus this article on a less visible group of outsiders in the local social figuration: young ex- and non-religious persons. The mediated and enacted performances of this loosely defined group and their interactions with more influential others provide a case study in how non-religious identities and networked communities are construed not (only) based on explicit rejection of religion but also in negotiation with a social order that happens to carry locally specific ‘religious’ overtones. With respect to the mediatization of religion we extend empirical investigation of the theory to social media, arguing that what while religious content is shaped by social media forms, in cases where religious identifiers already convey prestige in local social networks, social media may increase the influence of these networks, thus deepening processes of social inclusion for those in dominant groups and the exclusion of outsiders. In this way, platforms which are in principle open and in practice provide space for minorities to self-organise, also routinely reinforce existing power relations.

Jules Law, ““Transparency and Epistemology in George Eliot's Daniel Deronda”” (pp. 250––277) The recent turn in George Eliot scholarship toward historicism——and in particular toward intellectual and political history——has tended to occlude the epistemological metaphors in the author's work: those persistent figures that conjoin George Eliot's ethics to her aesthetics but that, according to an earlier generation of critics, also point to the essentially unstable nature of knowledge, whether ethical or aesthetic. This essay examines the figurative schematics and the epistemology by which George Eliot's politics are elaborated in her writing, focusing in particular on the figure of transparency and the thematics of political vocation, and culminating in the figure of the spectral Jew. Every end or purpose, like every origin, in George Eliot's novels is calibrated in relation to the twin horizons of absolute sameness and absolute difference. The tension between these two limits constitutes not only an epistemological, but also a cultural and political, dilemma: one that George Eliot broods constantly upon, most particularly in her ceaseless interrogation of what it would mean for a person to ““merge”” with his or her political or cultural destiny. This essay argues that George Eliot's uneasy reliance on the concept of transparency——of goals, of motives, of minds——bespeaks her yearning not only for self-evidence in the realm of meanings, but also for a sense of belonging in the realm of culture: a sense of belonging that is inextricable from a certain experience, and thus figuration, of language.

ARGUING AGAINST CRITICAL MODELS of Céézanne's pictorial tech nique that posit a delimitable ''unit'' of manufacture as the basis for the composition of his pictures, and challenging certain idéées reççues of Greenbergian modernism that continue to frame our view of Céézanne's art, ''Céézanne and Lucretius at the Red Rock'' offers a new perspective from which to think about meaning and form in Céézanne's painting. The essay takes as its starting point evidence that during the last decade of his life Céézanne was reading Lucretius, the Roman poet whose De rerum natura espouses the ancient philosophy of atomistic materialism. From this connection ''Céézanne and Lucretius at the Red Rock'' does not propose Céézanne as a painter of an atomistic worldview - an argument that would yield for the formal analysis of Céézanne's pictorial technique little more than yet another version of what is frequently characterized as Céézanne's ''constructive stroke.'' Instead, this essay turns on a Lucretius who was a poet profoundly attuned to the complex ways metaphorical figuration functioned in his materialist imagination of the world. On the basis of a scrupulous analysis of one late landscape by Céézanne, ''The Red Rock'' of circa 1895, this essay advances ways that such a materialism - one, in other words, acutely self-aware of its own construction on the basis of metaphor - can be seen as deeply resonant with formal and thematic concerns of Céézanne's art. Using Lucretian materialism as its heuristic in this manner, ''Céézanne and Lucretius at the Red Rock'' also sets forth new proposals about Céézanne's revolutionary use of color, contributes to the long-standing critical effort to articulate more precisely the elusive meaning of one of Céézanne's key theoretical terms, ''realization,'' and concludes with a meditation on the deeper issues involved in the melancholic preoccupations of so many of Céézanne's last canvases.

Beckett's investigations in the history of philosophy are well represented in his notebooks of the late 1920s and early 1930s, which provide a close record of his reading in ancient, medieval, and modern philosophy, as well as in history, literature, and psychology. Numerous scholars – Daniella Caselli, Anthony Uhlmann, Dirk Van Hulle, Matthew Feldman, and David Addyman among others – have carefully delineated the relationship between Beckett's note-taking and his deployment of philosophical sources in his literary texts. Whilst the focus quite rightly tends to fall on Beckett's absorption of Presocratic, Aristotelian, Cartesian, and post-Cartesian philosophy, there are important strands of early medieval philosophy that find expression in his literary work. The philosophy notes housed in the library of Trinity College, Dublin, provide insights into Beckett's reading in medieval philosophy, drawing almost exclusively from Wilhelm Windelband's History of Philosophy. The epoch spanning from Augustine to Abelard saw central concepts in theology and metaphysics develop in sophistication, such as matters of divine identity and non-identity, the metaphysics of light, and the nature of sin. The influence of the Eastern Church Fathers (Gregory of Nyssa, Basil of Caesarea, Maximus the Confessor) on Western metaphysics finds expression in the figuration of light and its relation to knowing and unknowing. This eastern theological inflection is evident in the ‘Dream’ Notebook, where Beckett's notes demonstrate his careful reading of William Inge's Christian Mysticism. These influences are expressed most prominently in various themes and allusions in his early novels Dream of Fair to Middling Women, Murphy, and Watt. The formal experiments and narrative self-consciousness of these early novels also respond to the early medieval transformation of textual form, where the precarious post-classical fruits of learning were preserved in new modes of encyclopaedism, commentary, and annotation. Beckett's overt display of learning in his early novels was arguably a kind of intellectual and textual preservation. But the contest of ideas in his work subsequently became less one of intellectual history and more that of immanent thinking in the process of composition itself.

Abstract In this article I consider Mary Shelley’s use of figuration, examining its characteristic forms. In three main sections address her use of allegory, what I call the “infection of the metaphorical”, and the groundless metaphor. Shelley’s writing will be looked at in dialogic relation to her predecessors and contemporaries and her peculiar stylistics discussed in terms of her sceptical attitude toward, and undermining of Romantic idealism. There will be specific emphasis on her treatment of favourite Romantic projects - nature, writing the self and the perceiving mind. Shelley will be discussed both as revisionist and saboteuse in her attitude to language.

Este artigo se inscreve na continuação das reflexões atuais sobre as dinâmicas religiosas dos Indígenas das Américas e, particularmente, sobre as representações de cosmologias indígenas nas artes e na literatura. Trata-se de uma primeira exploração do que um meio como desenhos em quadrinhos, pode revelar das imagens que construímos das cosmologias indígenas e das estratégias da apropriação de si pelos povos indígenas nos desenhos em quadrinhos. Através de uma análise de temas privilegiados pelos criadores europeus e indígenas, examinaremos o tratamento de cosmologias indígenas e de figurações animais na nona arte. O que os desenhos quadrinhos revelam das cosmologias e das concepções animais indígenas?Palavras-chave: Desenhos em quadrinhos. Indígena. Cosmologia. Figuração. Arte.Amerindian Cosmologies and Comic Animal FigureAbstractThis article contributes to current and ongoing discussions on the religious dynamics of indigenous people of the Americas and, more specifically, on the representations of indigenous cosmologies in the arts and in literature. It provides an initial exploration of what a medium like graphic novels can reveal about the images we create of indigenous cosmologies and the strategies of reappropriation, by indigenous peoples, of self-representation in graphic novels. Focusing on an analysis of the themes favored by indigenous and European writers and illustrators, we examine how indigenous cosmologies and animal figuration are addressed in the Ninth Art (graphic novels). In short, what can graphic novels tell us about indigenous cosmologies and beliefs about animals ?Keywords: Graphic novels. Indigenous people. Cosmology. Figuration. Art.

In this article, I explore the auditory technopolitics of prenatal sound systems, asking what kinds of futures, listeners and temporalities they seek to produce. With patents for prenatal audio apparatus dating back to the late 1980s, there are now a range of devices available to expectant parents. These sound technologies offer multiple benefits: from soothing away stress to increasing the efficiency of ultrasonic scans. However, one common point of emphasis is their capacity to accelerate foetal ‘learning’ and cognitive development. Taking as exemplary the Babypod and BabyPlus devices, I argue that prenatal sound systems make audible a particular figuration of pregnancy and gestational labour that combines divergent notions of responsibility and passivity. Contra the equation of neoliberalism with self-control and individualism, I argue that prenatal sound systems amplify neoliberal capitalism’s elision of personal, maternal and familial responsibility. As reproductive sound technologies, prenatal sound systems facilitate maternal–familial investment in the pre-born as future-child. Consequently, financialised notions of inheritance are substituted for biological inheritance. Drawing attention to the common rhetorical figuration of the sonic as womb-like, furthermore, I argue that prenatal sound systems exemplify what I refer to as uterine audiophilia. By treating the womb as ‘the perfect classroom’, prenatal sound systems imply an intense maternal obligation to invest in and impress upon the future-child, while also envisioning the pregnant person’s body as an occupied, resonant space. Cohering with a fidelity discourse that posits the reproductive medium as passive container and a source of noise that is to be overcome, uterine audiophilia relies upon politically regressive conceptualisations of pregnancy. I thus argue that these devices mark the hitherto under-theorised convergence of auditory culture, technology and reproductive politics.

AbstractIs self-reflexivity, as is often maintained, a structural characteristic of literary modernity? To what extent does self-reflexivity provide a specifically modern as well as qualitative criterion which helps to distinguish between aesthetically experimental texts and less advanced ones? Proceeding from a problematization of the concept of modernity, I explore these questions with reference to E.T.H. Hofmann‘s Prinzessin Brambilla. Labelled a ‚Capriccio,‘ the narrative unfolds as an arabesque, in which subjectivity and textuality constitute each other, so that personal as well as semantic identity appear to be multiple. Just as the mythic ‚mirror brightness‘ of the well Udar releases from the constraint of being identical with oneself by transfiguring the „I“ into a reflexive medium of alterity which is sensually perceivable, so the narrative dynamics of the text lead one to produce a reading of it as a figuration of transgression. The thematic analysis leads to a transgression of self-reflexivity, which – on the level of form – is made comprehensible as a narratological transgression. The pluralisation of the I, which is narratively staged through the mirroring of the main character in others, corresponds also with the theatrical self-image of the actor. All in all it is evident that Hoffmann’s narrating en abîme organizes a dimension of the aesthetics of the text as well as of its reception, in which the literary dissolution of the Self gives way to reflexions of reading devoid of a subject. The innovative aspect of this study is the insight it provides into the dynamics of transgression inherent to the binarity of self-reflexivity. Only a poetologically transgressive self-reflexivity qualifies it to be a distinguishing criterion of literary modernity. In taking the aesthetic structures of subjectivity to the threshhold of their deconstitution, this poetically configured subliminality conveys a specifically modern sense of crisis.

Journalists and artists in the global North tend to amplify certain geographies as go-to scenes of post-industrial abandonment. But sometimes those who live in these geographies foreground hope against this dark imaginary. How do we make sense of a situation that seemingly calls for an analysis of precarious life when those who live in that situation does not want to be understood in precarious terms? By enjoining cultural representations and empirical fieldwork on the Danish island of Lolland with Eve Kosofky Sedgwick’s essay on symptomatic and reparative reading, I show how a troubled post-industrial geography challenges us to open an analysis where both precarity and hope remain available. I begin with interpreting the figuration of Lolland in media and popular culture as symptomatic reading, a reoccurring interpretation of the island as precarity’s prime example. I then work through the locally popular hash-tag of #LollandFalsterLovestorm to show how the jamming of darkness by digital optimism can foreground reparative reading, a willingness to analyze the place in terms of the affective resources it has to offer the self. I finally bring out the mutuality of reparative and symptomatic analysis on Lolland: in representations, strategies and the ordinary, hope moves through precarity in geographies of compromised upwards mobility.

RESUMOA pesquisa apresenta reflexões sobre os modos de apresentação da vida escolar a partir da figuratividade apresentada e nos discursos verbais dos adolescentes nas comunidades virtuais das redes sociais digitais, mais especificamente o Orkut. Discute também o modo como a escola se apresenta em seu site oficial e quais as relações e dilemas que se estabelecem entre o visual que a escola constrói de si e o visual construído pelos adolescentes, sujeitos que constituem seu espaço físico. Tomando como referencial teórico os estudos referentes a análise do discurso que permeiam a Semiótica Discursiva dentre outras reflexões pertinentes a sóciossemiótica, pudemos compreender de que modo os alunos, por meio das comunidade virtuais, apresentam a escola de um modo que em muito difere do modo como a escola se apresenta em seu site oficial.Palavras-chave: Escola, Modos de Apresentação, Ciberespaço. ABSTRACTThe research presents reflections on modes of presentation of school’s life from figuration presented by teens verbal discourses in virtual communities of social networks, specifically Orkut. It also discusses how the school presents itself on its website and which relationships and dilemmas are established between the self-built school’s view and the adolescents view, individuals who constitute their physical space.Taking as theoretical studies concerning the analysis of discourse that permeate the discourse of semiotics among other relevant considerations to sociosemiotics, we understand how students, through the virtual community, presents the school in a way that differs greatly from the way the school has on its official website.Keywords: School, Presentation Modes, Cyberspace.

After numerous teething problems (1974-1994), the Department of Nursing Education of WITS University took responsibility for the Muldersdrift Health and Development Programme (MHDP). The nursing science students explored and implemented an empowerment approach to community participation. The students worked with MHDP health workers to improve health through community participation, in combination with primary health care (PHC) activities and the involvement of a variety of community groups. As the PHC projects evolved overtime, the need arose to evaluate the level of community participation and how much community ownership was present over decision-making and resources. This led to the question “What was the level of community participation in PHC projects of the MHDP?” Based on the question the following objectives were set, i.e. i) to evaluate the community participation in PHC initiatives; ii) to provide the project partners with motivational affirmation on the level of community participation criteria thus far achieved; iii) to indicate to participants the mechanisms that should still be implemented if they wanted to advance to higher levels of community participation; iv) to evaluate the MHDP’s implementation of a people-centred approach to community participation in PHC; and v) the evaluation of the level of community participation in PHC projects in the MHDP. An evaluative, descriptive, contextual and quantitative research design was used. Ethical standards were adhered to throughout the study. The MHDP had a study population of twentythree (N=23) PHC projects. A purposive sample of seven PHC initiatives was chosen according to specific selection criteria and evaluated according to the “Criteria to evaluate community participation in PHC projects” instrument (a quantitative tool). Structured group interviews were done with PHC projects’ executive committee members. The Joint Management Committee’s data was collected through mailed self-administered questionnaires. Validity and reliability were ensured according to strict criteria. Thereafter results were analysed and plotted on a radiating arm continuum. The following factors had component scores: organization, leadership, resources, management; needs and skills. A spider graph was produced after each factor’s continuum was connected in a spoke figuration that brought them together at the base where participation was at its most narrow. The results are presented and a graph and discussion is provided on each of the PHC projects.

В статье рассмотрены вопросы формальной адаптации в русском и осетинском языках новых заимствованных слов, различных вариантов их графического оформления, морфемно-морфологических признаков, тематических групп, в наибольшей степени отличающихся от принятых в обоих языках правил адаптации. На примерах неологизмов русско- и осетиноязычного медиадискурса показаны этапы приспособления новаций к системе языка-реципиента. В осетинский язык входит множество заимствований, среди которых лексические единицы, относящиеся к совершенно различным тематическим кластерам, в том числе к IT-технологиям, цифровым технологиям, новым дистанционным и электронным образовательным технологиям, робототехнике и т.д. Осетинский язык какие-то из них заимствует в том виде, в котором они попадают в русский, а уже через посредство русского языка такие лексемы входят в осетиноязычное пространство в оригинальном или даптированном виде. Инографическое оформление иноязычных заимствований, вошедших в русский и осетинский языки в последние годы и месяцы, рассматривается не с точки зрения нарушения норм и традиций принимающего языка или посягательств на самостоятельность и этническую идентичность, а как один из этапов адаптации неологизма в языке, начальной стадии вхождения его в другую графическую систему, за которой в дальнейшем лексеме предстоит орфологическая адаптация. Большой языковой материал, использованный в исследовании, позволил авторам прийти к выводу о том, что современный осетинский язык является открытой системой, легко приспосабливающей к своей грамматической норме любые варианты лексем, которые она берет из других языков, совершенно разными способами, а не только инографическим оформлением. В нем много неологизмов, созданных средствами самого осетинского языка, что говорит о жизнеспособности и гибкости его в мире цифровых реалий. The article considers the means of formal adaptation of new loans borrowed into the Russian and Ossetian languages, as well as to various options of their graphic figuration, morphemic and morphological features, thematic groups, most especially distinct from the standard adaptation rules of both languages. The stages of novation adaptation to the system of the language recipient are demonstrated by the examples of neologisms in the Russian speaking and Ossetian speaking media. A lot of loan words enter the Ossetian language, among which are lexical units of various thematic clusters including IT, digital technologies, robotics et-cetera. The Ossetian language receives some of them through the mediation of the Russian language, this kind of lexemes enter the Ossetian speaking space having undergone adaptation or in their original forms. Latinized variants of the loan words borrowed by the Russian and Ossetian languages in recent years and months have been considered neither in terms of a contraversion of norms and traditions of a recepient language nor as an infringement of self-sufficiency or ethnic identity, but in terms of one of the adaptation stages, the initial stage of the infiltration of a loan into another graphic system, after which the lexeme is to be adapted morphologically. A considerable amount of linguistic data used in the research leads the authors to the conclusion, that currently the Ossetian language is an open system, where any variation of lexemes borrowed from other languages are easily adopted to its grammatical form not only by means of using Latin alphabet, but in variety of ways. It has coined a great number of neologisms, which proves the viability and flexibility of the Ossetian language in the contemporary digital world.

Neil Jordan’s Breakfast on Pluto (2005) reconceives transience and domesticity together. This queer Irish road film collapses opposition between mobility and home by uncoupling them from heteronormative structures of gender, desire, and space—male/female, public/private. The film’s protagonist, Patrick “Kitten” Braden (Cillian Murphy), wanders in search of a loved one without whom she does not feel at home. Along the way, the film exposes and exploits the doubleness of both “mobility” and “home” in the traditional road narrative, queering the conventions of the road film to convey the desire and possibilities for an alternative domesticity. In its rerouting of the traditional road plot, Breakfast on Pluto does not follow a hero escaping the obligations of home and family to find autonomy on the road. Instead, the film charts Kitten’s quest to realise a sense of home through trans-domesticity—that is, to find shelter in non-heteronormative, mutual care while in both transient and public spaces.I affix “trans-” to “domesticity” to signal both the queerness and mobility that transform understandings of domestic spaces and practices in Breakfast on Pluto. To clarify, trans-domesticity is not queer assimilation to heteronormative domesticity, nor is it a relegation of queer culture to privatised and demobilised spaces. Rather, trans-domesticity challenges the assumption that all forms of domesticity are inherently normalising and demobilising. In other words, trans-domesticity uncovers tensions and violence swept under the rugs of hegemonic domesticity. Moreover, this alternative domesticity moves between and beyond the terms of gender and spatial oppositions that delimit the normative home.Specifically, “trans-domesticity” names non-normative homemaking practices that arise out of the “desire to feel at home”, a desire that Anne-Marie Fortier identifies in queer diasporic narratives (1890-90). Accordingly, “trans-domesticity” also registers the affective processes that foster the connectedness and belonging of “home” away from private domestic spaces and places of origin, a “rethinking of the concept of home”, which Ed Madden traces in lesbian and gay migrant narratives (175-77). Building on the assumption of queer diaspora theorists “that not only can one be at home in movement, but that movement can be one’s very own home” (Rapport and Dawson 27), trans-domesticity focuses critical attention on the everyday practices and emotional labour that create a home in transience.As Breakfast on Pluto tracks its transgender protagonist’s movement between a small Irish border town, Northern Ireland, and London, the film invokes both a specifically Irish migration and the broader queer diaspora of which it is a part. While trans-domesticity is a recurring theme across a wide range of queer diasporic narratives, in Breakfast on Pluto it also simultaneously drives the plot and functions as a narrative frame. The film begins and ends with Kitten telling her story as she wanders through the streets of Soho and cares for a member of her made family, her friend Charlie’s baby.Although I am concerned with the film adaptation, Patrick McCabe’s “Prelude” to his novel, Breakfast on Pluto (1998), offers a useful point of departure: Patrick “Pussy” Braden’s dream, “as he negotiates the minefields of this world”, is “ending, once and for all, this ugly state of perpetual limbo” and “finding a map which might lead to that place called home” (McCabe x). In such a place, McCabe’s hero might lay “his head beneath a flower-bordered print that bears the words at last ‘You’re home’”(McCabe xi). By contrast, the film posits that “home” is never a “place” apart from “the minefields of this world”, and that while being in transit and in limbo might be a perpetual state, it is not necessarily an ugly one.Jordan’s film thus addresses the same questions as does Susan Fraiman in her book Extreme Domesticity: “But what about those for whom dislocation is not back story but main event? Those who, having pulled themselves apart, realize no timely arrival at a place of their own, so that being not-unpacked is an ongoing condition?” (155). Through her trans-domestic shelter-making and caregiving practices, Kitten enacts “home” in motion and in public spaces, and thereby realises the elision in the flower-bordered print in McCabe’s “Prelude” (xi), which does not assure “You are at home” but, rather, “You are home”.From Housed to Trans-Domestic SubjectivitySelf and home are equated in the dominant cultural narratives of Western modernity, but “home” in such formulations is assumed to be a self-owned, self-contained space. Psychoanalytic theorist Carl Jung describes this Ur-house as “a concretization of the individuation process, […] a symbol of psychic wholeness” (225). Philosopher Gaston Bachelard sees in the home “the topography of our intimate being”, a structure that “concentrates being within limits that protect” (xxxii). However, as historian Carolyn Steedman suggests, the mythic house that has become “the stuff of our ‘cultural psychology,’ the system of everyday metaphors by which we see ourselves”, is far from universal; rather, it reflects “the topography of the houses” of those who stand “in a central relationship to the dominant culture” (75, 17).For others, the lack of such housing correlates with political marginalisation, as the house functions as both a metaphor and material marker for culturally-recognised selfhood. As cultural geographer John Agnew argues, in capitalist societies the self-owned home is both a sign of autonomous individuality and a prerequisite for full political subjectivity (60). Philosopher Rosi Braidotti asserts that this figuration of subjectivity in “the phallo-Eurocentric master code” treats as “disposable” the “bodies of women, youth, and others who are racialised or marked off by age, gender, sexuality, and income” (6). These bodies are “reduced to marginality” and subsequently “experience dispossession of their embodied and embedded selves, in a political economy of repeated and structurally enforced eviction” (Braidotti 6).To shift the meaning of “home” and the intimately-linked “self” from a privately-owned, autonomous structure to trans-domesticity, to an ethos of care enacted even, and especially in, transient and public spaces, is not to romanticise homelessness or to deny the urgent necessity of material shelter. Breakfast on Pluto certainly does not allow viewers to do either. Rather, the figure of a trans-domestic self, like Braidotti’s “nomadic subject”, has the potential to challenge and transform the terms of power relations. Those now on the margins might then be seen as equally-embodied selves and full political subjects with the right to shelter and care.Such a political project also entails recognising and revaluing—without appropriating and demobilising—existing trans-domesticity. As Fraiman argues, “domesticity” must be “map[ped] from the margins” in order to include the homemaking practices of gender rebels and the precariously housed, of castaways and outcasts (4-5). This alternative map would allow “outsiders to normative domesticity” to “claim domesticity while wrenching it away from such things as compulsory heterosexuality […] and the illusion of a safely barricaded life” (Fraiman 4-5). Breakfast on Pluto shares in this re-mapping work by exposing the violence embedded in heteronormative domestic structures, and by charting the radical political potential of trans-domesticity.Unsettling HousesIn the traditional road narrative, “home” tends to be a static, confining structure from which the protagonist escapes, a space that then functions as “a structuring absence” on the road (Robertson 271). Bachelard describes this normative structure as a “dream house” that constitutes “a body of images that give mankind proofs or illusions of stability” (17); the house functions, Henri Lefebvre argues, as “the epitome of immobility” (92). Whether the dream is to escape and/or to return, “to write of houses”, as Adam Hanna asserts, “is to raise ideas of shelters that are fixed and secure” (113).Breakfast on Pluto quickly gives lie to those expectations. Kitten is adopted by Ma Braden (Ruth McCabe), a single woman who raises Kitten and her adopted sister in domestic space that is connected to, and part of, a public house. That spatial contiguity undermines any illusion of privacy and security, as is evident in the scene in which a school-aged Kitten, who thought herself safely home alone and thus able to dress in her mother’s and sister’s clothes, is discovered in the act by her mother and sister from the pub’s street entrance. Further, the film lays bare the built-in mechanisms of surveillance and violence that reinforce heteronormative, patriarchal structures. After discovering Kitten in women’s clothes, Ma Braden violently scrubs her clean and whacks her with a brush until Kitten says, “I’m a boy, not a girl”. The public/house space facilitates Ma Braden’s close monitoring of Kitten thereafter.As a young writer in secondary school, Kitten satirises the violence within the hegemonic home by narrating the story of the rape of her biological mother, Eily Bergin (Eva Birthistle), by Kitten’s father, Father Liam (Liam Neeson) in a scene of hyper-domesticity set in the rectory kitchen. As Patrick Mullen notes, “the rendition of the event follows the bubble-gum logic and tone of 1950s Hollywood culture” (130). The relationship between the ideal domesticity thereby invoked and the rape then depicted exposes the sexual violence for what it is: not an external violation of the double sanctity of church and home space, but rather an internal and even intrinsic violence that reinforces and is shielded by the power structures from which normative domesticity is never separate.The only sense of home that seems to bind Kitten to her place of origin is based in her affective bonds to friends Charlie (Ruth Negga) and Lawrence (Seamus Reilly). When Lawrence is killed by a bomb, Kitten is no longer at home, and she leaves town to search for the “phantom” mother she never knew. The impetus for Kitten’s wandering, then, is connection rather than autonomy, and neither the home she leaves, nor the sense of home she seeks, are fixed structures.Mobile Homes and Queering of the Western RoadBreakfast on Pluto tracks how the oppositions that seem to structure traditional road films—such as that between home and mobility, and between domestic and open spaces—continually collapse. The film invokes the “cowboy and Indian” mythology from which the Western road narrative descends (Boyle 19), but to different ends: to capture a desire for non-heteronormative affective bonds rather than “lone ranger” autonomy, and to convey a longing for domesticity on the trail, for a home that is both mobile and open. Across the past century of Irish fiction and film, “cowboy and Indian” mythology has often intersected with queer wandering, from James Joyce’s Dubliners story “An Encounter” (1914) to Lenny Abrahamson’s film Adam & Paul (2004). In this tradition, Breakfast on Pluto queers “cowboy and Indian” iconography to convey an alternative conception of domesticity and home. The prevailing ethos in the film’s queered Western scenes is of trans-domesticity—of inclusion and care during transience and in open spaces. After bar bouncers exclude Kitten and friends because of her transgenderism and Lawrence’s Down syndrome, “The Border Knights” (hippie-bikers-cum-cowboys) ride to their rescue and bring them to their temporary home under the stars. Once settled around the campfire, the first biker shares his philosophy with a cuddled-up Kitten: “When I’m riding my hog, you think I’m riding the road? No way, man. I’m travelling from the past into the future with a druid at my back”. “Druid man or woman?” Kitten asks. “That doesn’t matter”, the biker clarifies, “What matters is the journey”. What matters is not place as fixed destination or gender as static difference, but rather the practice of travelling with open relationships to space, to time, and to others. The bikers welcome all to their fire and include both Kitten and Lawrence in their sharing of jokes and joints. The only exclusion is of reference to political violence, which Charlie’s boyfriend, Irwin (Laurence Kinlan), tries to bring into the conversation.Further, Kitten uses domesticity to try to establish a place for herself while on the road with “Billy Hatchett and The Mohawks”, the touring band that picks her up when she leaves Ma Braden’s. As Mullen notes, “Kitten literally works herself into the band by hand sewing a ‘squaw’ outfit to complement the group’s glam-rock Native American image” (Mullen 141). The duet that Kitten performs with Billy (Gavin Friday), a song about a woman inviting “a wandering man” to share the temporary shelter of her campfire, invokes trans-domesticity. But the film intercuts their performance with scenes of violent border-policing: first, by British soldiers at a checkpoint who threaten the group and boast about the “13 less to deal with” in Derry, and then by members of the Republican Prisoners Welfare Association, who throw cans at the group and yell them off stage. A number of critics have noted the postcolonial implications of Breakfast on Pluto’s use of Native American iconography, which in these intercut scenes clearly raises the national stakes of constructions of domestic belonging (see, for instance, Winston 153-71). In complementary ways, the film queers “cowboy and Indian” mythology to reimagine “mobility” and “home” together.After Kitten is forced out by the rest of the band, Billy sets her up in a caravan, a mobile home left to him by his mother. Though Billy “wouldn’t exactly call it a house”, Kitten sees in it her first chance at a Bachelardian “dream house”: she calls it a “house of dreams and longing” and cries, “Oh, to have a little house, to own the hearth, stool, and all”. Kitten ecstatically begins to tidy the place, performing what Fraiman terms a “hyper-investment in homemaking” that functions “as compensation for domestic deprivation” (20).Aisling Cormack suggests that Kitten’s hyper-investment in homemaking signals the film’s “radical disengagement with politics” to a “femininity that is inherently apolitical” (169-70). But that reading holds only if viewers assume a gendered, spatial divide between public and private, and between the political and the domestic. As Fraiman asserts, “the political meaning of fixating on domestic arrangements is more complex […] For the poor or transgendered person, the placeless immigrant or the woman on her own, aspiring to a safe, affirming home doesn’t reinforce hierarchical social relations but is pitched, precisely, against them” (20).Trans-Domesticity as Political ActEven as Kitten invokes the idea of a Bachelardian dream house, she performs a trans-domesticity that exposes the falseness of the gendered, spatial oppositions assumed to structure the normative home. Her domesticity is not an apolitical retreat; rather, it is pitched, precisely, against the violence that public/private and political/domestic oppositions enable within the house, as well as beyond it. As she cleans, Kitten discovers that violence is literally embedded in her caravan home when she finds a cache of Irish Republican Army (IRA) guns under the floor. After a bomb kills Lawrence, Kitten throws the guns into a reservoir, a defiant act that she describes to the IRA paramilitaries who come looking for the guns as “spring cleaning”. Cormack asserts that Kitten “describing her perilous destruction of the guns in terms of domestic labor” strips it “of all political significance” (179). I argue instead that it demonstrates the radical potential of trans-domesticity, of an ethos of care-taking and shelter-making asserted in public and political spaces. Kitten’s act is not apolitical, though it is decidedly anti-violence.From the beginning of Breakfast on Pluto, Kitten’s trans-domesticity exposes the violence structurally embedded in heteronormative domestic ideology. Additionally, the film’s regular juxtaposition of scenes of Kitten’s homemaking practices with scenes of political violence demonstrates that no form of domesticity functions as a private, apolitical retreat from “the minefields of this world” (McCabe x). This latter counterpoint throws into relief the political significance of Kitten’s trans-domesticity. Her domestic practices are her means of resisting and transforming the structural violence that poses an existential threat to marginalised and dispossessed people.After Kitten is accused of being responsible for an IRA bombing in London, the ruthless, violent interrogation of Kitten by British police officers begins to break down her sense of self. Throughout this brutal scene, Kitten compulsively straightens the chairs and tidies the room, and she responds to her interrogators with kindness and even affection. Fraiman’s theorisation of “extreme domesticity” helps to articulate how Kitten’s homemaking in carceral space—she calls it “My Sweet Little Cell”—is an “urgent” act that, “in the wake of dislocation”, can mean “safety, sanity, and self-expression; survival in the most basic sense” (25). Cormack reads Kitten’s reactions in this scene as “masochistic” and the male police officers’ nurturing response as of a piece with the film’s “more-feminine-than-feminine disengagement from political realities” (185-89). However, I disagree: Kitten’s trans-domesticity is a political act that both sustains her within structures that would erase her and converts officers of the state to an ethos of care and shelter. Inspector Routledge, for example, gently carries Kitten back to her cell, and after her release, PC Wallis ensures that she is safely (if not privately) housed with a cooperatively-run peep show, the address at which an atoning Father Liam locates her in London.After Kitten and a pregnant Charlie are burned out of the refuge that they temporarily find with Father Liam, Kitten and Charlie return to London, where Charlie’s baby is born soon after into the trans-domesticity that opens the film. Rejoining the story’s frame, Breakfast on Pluto ends close to where it begins: Kitten and the baby meet Charlie outside a London hospital, where Kitten sees Eily Bergin with her new son, Patrick. Instead of meeting where their paths intersect, the two families pass each other and turn in opposite directions. Kitten now knows that hers is both a different road and a different kind of home. “Home”, then, is not a place gained once and for all. Rather, home is a perpetual practice that does not separate one from the world, but can create the shelter of mutual care as one wanders through it.The Radical Potential and Structural Limits of Trans-DomesticityBreakfast on Pluto demonstrates the agency that trans-domesticity can afford in the lives of marginalised and dispossessed individuals, as well as the power of the structures that militate against its broader realisation. The radical political potential of trans-domesticity manifests in the transformation in the two police officers’ relational practices. Kitten’s trans-domesticity also inspires a reformation in Father Liam, the film’s representative of the Catholic Church and a man whose relationship to others transmutes from sexual violence and repressive secrecy to mutual nurturance and inclusive love. Although these individual conversions do not signify changes in structures of power, they do allow viewers to imagine the possibility of a state and a church that cherish, shelter, and care for all people equally. The film’s ending conveys this sense of fairy-tale-like possibility through its Disney-esque chattering birds and the bubble-gum pop song, “Sugar Baby Love”.In the end, the sense of hopefulness that closes Breakfast on Pluto coexists with the reality that dominant power structures will not recognise Kitten’s trans-domestic subjectivity and family, and that those structures will work to contain any perceived threat, just as the Catholic Church banishes the converted Father Liam to Kilburn Parish. That Kitten and Charlie nevertheless realise a clear contentment in themselves and in their made family demonstrates the vital importance of trans-domesticity and other forms of “extreme domesticity” in the lives of those who wander.ReferencesAgnew, John. “Home Ownership and Identity in Capitalist Societies.” Housing and Identity: Cross Cultural Perspectives. Ed. James S. Duncan. New York: Holmes and Meier, 1982. 60–97.Bachelard, Gaston. The Poetics of Space. 1957. Trans. Maria Jolas. Boston: Beacon Press, 1969.Boyle, Kevin Jon, ed. Rear View Mirror: Automobile Images and American Identities. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000.Braidotti, Rosi. Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory. 2nd ed. New York: Columbia University Press, 2011.Breakfast on Pluto. Dir. Neil Jordan. Pathé Pictures International, 2005.Cormack, Aisling B. “Toward a ‘Post-Troubles’ Cinema? The Troubled Intersection of Political Violence and Gender in Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game and Breakfast on Pluto.” Éire-Ireland 49.1–2 (2014): 164–92.Fortier, Anne-Marie. “Queer Diaspora.” Handbook of Lesbian and Gay Studies. Eds. Diane Richardson and Steven Seidman. London: Sage Publishing, 2002. 183–97.Fraiman, Susan. Extreme Domesticity: A View from the Margins. New York: Columbia University Press, 2017.Hanna, Adam. Northern Irish Poetry and Domestic Space. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015. Jung, Carl. Memories, Dreams, Reflections. 1957. Ed. Aniela Jaffe. Trans. Clara Winston and Richard Winston. New York: Vintage Books, 1989.Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Social Space. Trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991.Madden, Ed. “Queering the Irish Diaspora: David Rees and Padraig Rooney.” Éire-Ireland 47.1–2 (2012): 172–200.McCabe, Patrick. Breakfast on Pluto. London: Picador, 1998.Mullen, Patrick R. The Poor Bugger’s Tool: Irish Modernism, Queer Labor, and Postcolonial History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.Rapport, Nigel, and Andrew Dawson. Migrants of Identity: Perceptions of ‘Home’ in a World of Movement. Oxford: Berg, 1998.Robertson, Pamela. “Home and Away: Friends of Dorothy on the Road in Oz.” The Road Movie Book. Eds. Steven Cohen and Ina Rae Hark. London: Routledge, 1997. 271–306.Steedman, Carolyn. Landscape for a Good Woman: A Story of Two Lives. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1987.Winston, Greg. “‘Reluctant Indians’: Irish Identity and Racial Masquerade.” Irish Modernism and the Global Primitive. Eds. Maria McGarrity and Claire A. Culleton. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. 153–71.

Wandering is an embodied movement through a landscape, cityscape, or soundscape; it is a venture that one may undertake voluntarily or reluctantly. It is similar to wayfaring and roaming, and different to walking. As a metaphor and as a figuration of subjectivity, wandering allows for a number of non-linear engagements: loitering, overhearing, wildflowering, meandering, even time travel. When coupled with an act of memory or imagination, wandering can instigate wondering, and vice versa. It can refer to the physical movement of the body through space or the abstract wandering of the mind through time; more often than not, it is both.The contributions to this special issue on ‘Wandering’ take up the theme in ways that demonstrate how straying from prescribed pathways and patterns of movement can be a transformative experience: one that renders new ways of thinking, reading, gaming, communicating, and being. For the authors featured here, wandering is deeply affectual, at times intimate and empowering, at other times disorientating, melancholy, and compulsive. Wandering provokes an awareness of the ambiances of everyday life, a response to the repression of desire, trauma, and historical violence. Wandering, of course, is traditionally associated with the city, and many of the articles here extend this scholarship, while others move the discussion of wandering to the natural environment. Historically, wandering has been connected to patriarchal, colonial modes of exploring and mapping, of claiming and naming places. Yet these articles suggest that wandering, as a mode of resistance—as a mobility that is ideologically charged—can provide new ways of being beyond heteronormativity and outside the hold of linear boundaries. In wandering rather than waiting, the wanderer inscribes opposing devices into her narrative: her movement is infused with gendered meaning and is well-equipped to reveal the relational, discursive operations of identity.Indeed, in the feature article, Ingrid Horrocks challenges neo-liberal versions of travel through an account of her ongoing research into female wandering and travel writing; her most recent book Women Wanderers and the Writing of Mobility, 1784-1814 presents an extensive consideration of the many complexities she outlines here, including the need to disentangle mobility from its frequent ideological equation with liberty. Horrocks explains, for example, how reluctant wandering in eighteenth and nineteenth century British literature requires a more flexible and nuanced understanding of wandering as a form of displacement. For Horrocks, the interdisciplinary field of mobilities studies is particularly illuminating. This framework allows for a tracing of the significance of both the symbolic representations of wandering in narrative and the historical conditions and lived experiences of the writers that produced wandering texts. Horrocks’s work reveals that deeper investigation into the histories of different mobilities is significant for modern conceptualisations of travel that equate movement with freedom of choice; such neo-liberal ideologies of mobility elide the structural forces and inequalities that might compel one to move—to leave home in search of work, companionship, or food. Kristina Deffenbacher also challenges conventional travel narratives—in this case, the road narrative—in her article, “Mapping Trans-Domesticity in Jordan’s Breakfast on Pluto.” Deffenbacher develops the term “trans-domesticity” to explain how the film challenges not only notions of home but also understandings of domestic spaces and practices. Specifically, Deffenbacher reads Breakfast on Pluto as a queer diaspora narrative that destabilises normative bonds and structures, and in doing so, transforms the traditional road story where the protagonist leaves home in search of autonomy and independence. Reading against earlier interpretations of the protagonist’s behaviour as apolitical, Deffenbacher suggests that homemaking in public, transient spaces is a queer reclamation of domestic space through the act of wandering, which enables connection rather than dislocation.The protagonist in Breakfast in Pluto creates a home in London, and global neo-liberal London is the site of investigation in “Wandering and Placemaking in London: Iain Sinclair’s Literary Methodology.” Here, Kirsten Seale and Emily Potter examine how psychogeographer Iain Sinclair’s wandering moves beyond the chronicling of place to engage in placemaking that is materially entangled with the transformative conditions of place. Sinclair’s wandering, as Seale and Potter demonstrate, acts upon the city as much as it is an act within the city. Sinclair’s writing about London’s decrepitude contributes to a contemporary aesthetic of urban decay that is cultivated and commodified in high-end locales—an extra-textual consequence that points to the position of Sinclair’s wanderings as “more-than-literary.” In other words, Sinclair’s texts materialise versions of place that operate outside the assemblage of literary production, thereby constituting spatial events.Devin Proctor wanders in another quintessential city in “Wandering in the City: Time, Memory, and Experience in Digital Game Space.” Proctor traverses the physical, the virtual, and the temporal in his exploration of downtown New York, as constructed in the videogame Assassin’s Creed: Rogue. Accompanying Proctor on his wanderings is the memory—or the future projection—of Michel de Certeau, whose musings from the top of the World Trade Center—not-yet-built in the time of the game, not-yet-destroyed in the time of de Certeau, existing only in memory in Proctor’s own time—inform the exploration of space. Proctor wonders whether it is possible to truly wander in a controlled space, where even apparent acts of spatial disobedience—scaling buildings, running along walls—are within the “rules” of the game. For Proctor, disavowing the designed narrative of the game—ignoring quests, not seeking to progress or level up but instead simply wandering—allows the digital space to take on different meanings, and to become, in fact, another space: one that is a colourful vista of memory, fiction, and experience.In “Adapting to Loiterly Reading: Agatha Christie’s Original Adaptation of 'The Witness for the Prosecution'", Alistair Rolls takes up the theme of wandering by applying the notion to re-reading Christie’s short story “The Witness for the Prosecution” in a way that is prompted by Sarah Phelps’s screen adaptation for BBC One. Rolls applies Armelle Blin-Rolland’s notion of “vortical” reading: a model of adaptation in which no version of a text is privileged as the correct one but instead part of a textual multiplicity. Through this lens, Rolls argues that Christie’s short story can be appreciated by a wandering reader who undertakes loiterly reading, thereby moving against the grain of crime fiction: a genre, which, through its focus on the revelatory end, usually speeds a reader to a resolution. A wandering reader might see, for instance, the fetishistic narrative and partially-repressed pre-textual truths. Therefore, Phelps’s adaptation, which uses a framing device by adding a new beginning and end to the narrative, complements, rather than undercuts, Christie’s original. In this article, Rolls enacts his own form of loiterly reading. Melanie Pryor examines the work of another well-known wanderer in “Dark Peripatetic Walking as Radical Wandering in Cheryl Strayed’s Memoir Wild.” Pryor adopts John Brabour’s notion of the dark peripatetic, a kind of itinerant wandering often associated with isolation from society. Pryor transforms the notion’s negative connotations, arguing instead that, in women’s memoir, wandering in the wilderness is an act of “radical self-containment”. Pryor draws attention to the way that Strayed’s memoir offers a counterpoint to traditional patriarchal narratives of domination and colonisation of the natural world. Instead, Strayed’s writing positions her as a witness to the natural world and her own physical and internal transformation. Pryor draws our attention to the way that even Strayed’s name, changed after her divorce, suggests an empowered wandering from the traditional confines of domestic life. Like Pryor, Susan Davis in “Wandering and Wildflowering: Walking with Women into Intimacy and Ecological Action” locates wandering, not as it traditionally has occurred in the city, but in a natural ecosystem: in this case, the wallum bushland behind the beaches of South East Queensland, Australia. This complex ecosystem, Davis explains, is at once resilient, thriving in soil corrosive as battery acid, but also fragile, unable to re-grow once destroyed; yet few pay attention to this landscape. Davis presents an historical account of Australian poet Judith Wright’s and artist and writer Kathleen McArthur’s relationship with each other and this coastal heathland, arguing that both wandering and “wildflowering” provoked in the women a new artistic and ecological vision. Attuning to the more-than-human world allowed these artists to value what still is, Davis argues, a largely invisible landscape; this new vision prompted ecological activism and conservation.In “Wandering in and out of Place: Modes of Searching for the Past in Paris, Moscow, and St Petersburg”, Katherine Brabon suggests that wandering in a place can also be a mode of wandering in the past. In her analysis of W.G. Sebald’s, Patrick Modiano’s, and her own work, Brabon points to the way that the narrator’s embodied movement through place is haunted by traces of historical trauma and violence. Landscape, infused with memory and emotion, provokes a compulsive wandering; the narrators in the works Brabon describes appear almost doomed to wander in search of a past available only in fragments. These are themes Brabon also explores in her novel, The Memory Artist, which won the Vogel Literary Award in 2016, and which complements the exegetical discussion presented here. In “Wandering a Metro: Actor-Network Theory Research and Rapid Rail Infrastructure Communication”, Nicholas Richardson wanders Montreal’s underground Métro, asking of the fifty-year-old train system the Latourian question, “What do you do for a city and its people?” By wandering the Métro and interviewing its other wanderers, commuters, and workers, Richardson is able to observe the actor-network within which the train operates. Through this process, he comes to understand what a train system like Montreal’s might bring to a city such as Sydney. Richardson’s wandering is as much methodological and metaphorical as it is physical, and he does not seek to end either aspect of his foray at a finish line. Instead of drawing us towards the finality of conclusions, Richardson’s wandering opens up multiple avenues. The actor-network of the Métro is comprised not just of the train itself and its immediate users but also the artworks and architecture that give character to its spaces. Ultimately, the influence of the Métro and its actor-network spread beyond the boundaries of the train system itself; the Métro functions—as one of Richardson’s respondents puts it—as the “connective tissue” of the city. Whereas Richardson awaits an answer to his question, “What do you do for a city and its people?”, Rowan Wilken, in “Walkie-Talkies, Wandering, and Sonic Intimacy”, is concerned with the act of listening itself when urban wanderers come into contact with the sonic environments in which they live. Wilken extends the notion of wandering to the ambient soundscape by analysing two artworks, Saturday by Sabrina Raff and Walk That Sound by Lukatoyboy. Wilken positions these artworks in an avant-garde artistic tradition, the Situationist International, which emerged in the 1960s, and which proposed the use of walkie-talkies to enable urban wandering, an act of engaging with place designed to create more authentic “situations” to counteract social alienation brought about by Capitalism. The more contemporary artworks at the heart of Wilken’s analysis extend this tradition by inviting the reader to attune to overheard conversations, and form what Wilken, in an application of Dominic Pettman’s notion, calls sonic intimacy. Wilken suggests that in these works the act of overhearing invites an aural connection with strangers. Yet, such acts also evoke a disturbing undercurrent of surveillance and the Panopticon. AcknowledgementsThe editors would like to acknowledge the time, care, and insight of the reviewers who provided feedback on this issue. This often unrewarded labour deserves recognition and thanks.

What are the possibilities of a body? This is a question that is answered best by thinking prosthetically. After all, the possibilities of a body extend beyond flesh and bone. Asked another way, one might query: what are the affective capacities of bodies—animal or otherwise? Philosophers Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari focus on affectivity as capacity, on what the body does or can do; thinking through Baruch Spinoza’s writing on the body, they state, “we know nothing about a body until we know what it can do, in other words, what its affects are, how they can or cannot enter into composition with other affects” (257). If bodies are defined by their affective capacities, I wonder: how can prosthetics be used to alter dominant and dominating relationships between the human and the non-human animal, particularly as these relationships bear on questions of race? In this essay, I forward a contemporary media installation, “The Slug Princess”, as a productive site for thinking through the prosthetic possibilities around issues of race, animality, and aesthetics. I contend that the Degenerate Art Ensemble’s installation works through uncommon prosthetics to activate what Deleuze and Guattari describe as becoming-animal. While animality has historically been mobilized to perpetuate Orientalist logics, I argue that DAE’s becoming-slug rethinks the capacities of the body prosthetically, and in so doing dismantles the hierarchy of the body normativity.The Degenerate Art Ensemble (DAE) is a collective of artists with international showings co-directed by Haruko Crow Nishimura, originally from Japan, and Joshua Kohl, from the United States. The ensemble is based in Seattle, Washington, USA. The group’s name is a reference to the 1937 Degenerate Art Exhibition in Munich, Germany, organized by Adolf Ziegler and the Nazi Party. The exhibition staged 650 works from what Nazi officials referred to as “art stutterers”, the pieces were confiscated from German museums and defined as works that “insult German feeling, or destroy or confuse natural form or simply reveal an absence of adequate manual and artistic skill” (Spotts 163). DAE “selected this politically charged moniker partly in response to the murder in Olympia [Washington] of an Asian American youth by neo-Nazi skinheads” (Frye). DAE’s namesake is thus an embrace of bodies and abilities deemed unworthy by systems of corrupt power. With this in mind, I argue that DAE’s work provides an opportunity to think through intersections of prostheticity, animality, and race.“The Slug Princess” is part of a larger exhibition of their work shown from 19 March to 19 June 2011 at the Frye Art Museum in Seattle. The installation is comprised of two major elements: a crocheted work and a video projection. For me, both are prosthetics.A Crocheted Prosthetic and Orientalist AnimalityThe crocheted garment is not immediately recognizable as a prosthetic. It is displayed on a mannequin that stands mostly erect. The piece, described as a headdress, is however by no means a traditional garment. Yellow spirals and topographies flow and diverge in tangled networks of yarn that sometimes converge into recognizable form. The knit headdress travels in countless directions, somehow assembling as a wearable fibrous entity that covers the mannequin from head to ground, spreading out, away, and behind the figuration of the human. In slumped orbs, green knit “cabbages’ surround the slug princess headdress, exceeding the objects they intend to represent in mass, shape, and affect. In this bustling excess of movement, the headdress hints at how it is more than a costume, but is instead a prosthetic.The video projection makes the prosthetic nature of the crocheted headdress evident. It is a looped performance of Nishimura that runs from ceiling to floor and spans the semi-enclosed space in which it is displayed. In the video, Nishimura walks, then crawls – slowly, awkwardly – through a forest. She also eats whole cabbages, supporting procedure with mouth, foot, and appendage, throwing the function of her body parts into question. The crocheted element is vital to her movement and the perception of her body’s capacities.As Nishimura becomes slug princess, the DAE begins to intervene in complex regimes of racial identification. It is imperative to note that Nishimura’s boy gets caught up in interpretive schemas of Western constructions of Asians as animals. For example, in the early diaspora in the United States, Chinese men were often identified with the figure of the rat in 19th-century political cartoons. Mel Y. Chen points to the ways in which these racialized animalities have long reinforcing the idea of the yellow peril through metaphor (Chen 110-111). These images were instrumental in conjuring fear around the powerfully dehumanizing idea that hordes of rats were infesting national purity. Such fears were significant in leading to the Chinese exclusion acts of the United States and Canada. Western tropes of Asians find traction in animal symbolism. From dragon ladies to butterflies, Asian femininity in both women and men has been captured by simultaneous notions of treachery and passivity. As Nishimura’s body is enabled by prosthetic, it is also caught in a regime of problematic signs. Animal symbolism persists throughout Asian diasporic gender construction and Western fantasies of the East. Rachel C. Lee refers to the “process whereby the human is reduced to the insect, rodent, bird, or microbe” as zoe-ification, which she illustrates as a resolute means of excluding Asian Americans from species-being (Lee Exquisite 48). DAE’s Slug Princess, I argue, joins Lee’s energies herein by providing and performing alternative modes of understanding animality.The stakes of prosthetics in becoming-animal lie in the problem of domination through definition. Orientalist animality functions to devalue Asians as animals, ultimately justifying forms of subordination and exclusion. I want to suggest that becoming-slug, as I will elaborate below, provides a mode of resisting this narrow function of defining bodies by enacting prosthetic process. In doing so, it aligns with the ways in which prosthetics redefine the points of delineation against normativity. As Margarit Shildrick illuminates, “once it is acknowledged that a human body is not a discrete entity ending at the skin, and that material technologies constantly disorder our boundaries, either through prosthetic extensions or through the internalization of mechanical parts, it is difficult to maintain that those whose bodies fail to conform to normative standards are less whole or complete than others” (24). DAE’s Slug Princess transmutates how animality functions to Orientalize Asians as the degenerate other, heightening the ways in which prosthetics can resist the racialized ideologies of normative wholeness.Why Prosthetics? Or, a Comparative Case in Aesthetic AnimalityDAE is of course not alone in their animalistic interventions. In order to isolate what I find uniquely productive about DAE’s prosthetic performance, I turn to another artistic alternative to traditional modes of Orientalist animality. Xu Bing’s performance installation “Cultural Animal” (1994) at the Han Mo Art Center in in Beijing, China can serve as a useful foil. “Cultural Animal” featured a live pig and mannequin in positions that evoked queer bestial sexuality. The pig was covered in inked nonsensical Roman letters; the full body of the mannequin was similarly tattooed in jumbled Chinese characters. The piece was a part of a larger project entitled “A Case Study of Transference”. According to Xu’s website, “the intention was both to observe the reaction of the pig toward the mannequin and produce an absurd random drama—an intention that was realized when the pig reacted to the mannequin in an aggressively sexual manner” (Xu). The photographs, which were a component of the piece, indeed evoke the difficulty of the concept of transference, imbricating species, languages, and taboos. The piece more generally enacts the unexpected excesses of performance with non-scripted bodies. The pig at times caresses the cheek of the mannequin. The sensuous experience is inked by the cultural confusion that images the seeming sensibility of each language. Amidst the movement of the pig and the rubbings of the ink, the mannequin is motionless, bearing a look of resigned openness. His eyes are closed, with a slight furrowing of the brow and calm downturned lips. The performance piece enacts crossings that reorient the historical symbolic force of racialization and animality. These forms of species and cultural miscegenation evoke for Mel Y. Chen a form of queer relationality that exemplifies “animalities that live together with race and with queerness, the animalities that we might say have crawled into the woodwork and await recognition, and, concurrently, the racialized animalities already here” (104). As such, Chen does the work of pointing out how Xu destabilizes notions of proper boundaries between human and animal, positing a different form of human-animal relationality. In short, Xu’s Cultural Animal chooses relationality. This relationality does not extend the body’s capacities. I argue that by focusing in on the pivotal nature of prosthesis, DAE’s slug activates a becoming-animal that goes beyond relationship, instead rethinking what a body can do.Becoming-Slug: Prosthetics as InterventionBy way of differentiation, how might “The Slug Princess” function beyond symbolic universalism and in excess of human-animal relations? In an effort to understand this distinction, I forward DAE’s installation as a practice of becoming-animal. Becoming-animal is a theoretical intervention in hierarchy, highlighting a minoritarian tactic to resist domination, akin to Shildrick’s description of prosthetics.DAE’s installation enacts becoming-slug, as illustrated in an elaboration of Deleuze and Guattari’s concept they argue: “Becoming-animal always involves a pack” “a multiplicity” (Deleuze and Guatttari 239). The banner of becoming-animal is “I am legion”. DAE is and are a propagation of artists working together. They enact legion. Led by a pack of collaborators, DAE engage a range of artists in continual, ongoing, and fluctuating process. Their current collaborators include (and surpass): architect/designer Alan Maskin, costume designer ALenka Loesch, dancer/singer Dohee Lee, performance artist/expressionist/songwriter/shape-shifter Okanomodé, and sound/installation artist Robb Kunz. For the broader exhibition at the Frye, they listed the biographies of fifteen artists and the names of around 200 artists. Yet, it is not the mere number of collaborators that render DAE a multiplicity – it is the collaborative excess of their process that generates potential at the intersection of performance and prosthetic. Notably, it is important that the wearable prosthetic headpiece used in “Slug Princess” was created in collaboration. “The contagion of the pack, such is the path becoming-animal takes” (Deleuze and Guattari, 243). Created by Many Greer but worn by Nishimura, it weighs on Nishimura’s body in ways that steer her performance. She is unable to stand erect as the mannequin in the exhibition. The prosthetic changes her capacities in unpredictable ways. The unexpected headdress causes her to hunch over and crawl, pushing her body into slow contact with the earth. As the flowing garment slows her forward progress, it activates new modes of movement. Snagging, and undulating, Nishimura moves slowly over the uncertain terrain of a forest. As Greer’s creation collides with Nishimura’s body and the practice of the dance, they enact becoming-slug. This is to suggest, then, following Deleuze and Guattari’s affective understanding of becoming-animal, that prosthetics have a productive role to play in disrupting normative modes of embodiment.Further, as Deleuze and Guattari indicate, becoming-animal is non-affiliative (Deleuze and Guattari 238). Becoming-animal is that which is “not content to proceed by resemblance and for which resemblance, on the contrary, would represent an obstacle or stoppage” (Deleuze and Guattari 233). Likewise, Nishimura’s becoming-slug is neither imitative (305) nor mimetic because it functions in the way of displaced doing through prosthetic process. Deleuze and Guattari describe in the example of Little Hans and his horse, becoming-animal occurs in putting one’s shoes on one’s hands to move, as a dog: “I must succeed in endowing the parts of my body with relations of speed and slowness that will make it become dog, in an original assemblage proceeding neither by resemblance nor by analogy” (258). The headdress engages an active bodily process of moving as a slug, rather than looking like a slug. Nishimura’s body begin as her body human begins, upright, but it is pulled down and made slow by the collaborative force of the wearable piece. As such, DAE enacts “affects that circulate and are transformed within the assemblage: what a horse [slug] ‘can do’” (257). This assemblage of affects pushes beyond the limited capacities of the screen, offering new productive entanglements.The Stuplime Loop as ProstheticTo the extent that conceiving of a headdress as a collaborative bodily prosthetic flows from common understandings of prosthetic, the medial interface perhaps stirs up a more foreign example of prosthesis and becoming-animal. The medial performance of DAE’s “The Slug Princess” operates through the video loop, transecting the human, animal, and technological in a way that displaces being in favor of becoming. The looping video creates a spatio-temporal contraction and elongation of the experience of time in relation to viewing. It functions as an experiential prosthetic, reworking the ability to think in a codified manner—altering the capacities of the body. Time play breaks the chronological experience of straight time and time as mastery by turning to the temporal experience as questioning normativity. Specifically, “The Slug Princess” creates productive indeterminacy through what Siane Ngai designates as “stuplimity”. Ngai’s punning contraction of stupidity and sublimity works in relation to Deleuze’s thinking on repetition and difference. Ngai poses the idea of stuplimity as beginning with “the dysphoria of shock and boredom” and culminating “in something like the ‘open feeling’ of ‘resisting being’—an indeterminate affective state that lacks the punctuating ‘point’ of individuated emotion” (284). Ngai characterizes this affecting openness and stupefying: it stops the viewer in their/her/his tracks. This importation of the affective state cannot be overcome through the exercise of reason (270). Departing from Kant’s description of the sublime, Ngai turns to the uglier, less awe-inspiring, and perhaps more debase form of aesthetic encounter. This is the collaboration of the stupid with the sublime. Stuplimity operates outside reason and sublimity but in alliance with their processes. Viewers seem to get “stuck” at “The Slug Princess”, lost in the stuplimity of the loop. Some affect of the looping videos generates not thoughtfulness or reflection, but perhaps cultural stupidity – the relative and temporary cessation or abatement of cultural logics and aesthetic valuations. The video loop comes together with the medial enactment of becoming-slug in such a manner that performs into stuplimity. Stuplimity, in this case, creates an opening of an affectively stupid or illegible (per Xu) space/time alternative being/becoming. The loop is, of course, not unique to the installation and is a common feature of museum pieces. Yet, the performance, the becoming-slug itself, creates sluggishness. Ngai posits that sluggishness works out the boredom of repetition, which I argue is created through the loop of becoming-slug. The slug princess’ slowness, played in the loop creates a “stuplimity [that] reveals the limits of our ability to comprehend a vastly extended form as totality” (271). That is, the loop, by virtue of its sluggishness, opens up becoming-animal not as a finite thing, but as an ongoing, cycling, and thoughtlessly tedious process. DAE’s installation thus demonstrates an attempt to adopt prosthetics to rethink the logics of control and power. In his writing on contemporary shifts in prosthetic function, Paul Preciado argues that digitalization is a core component of the transition from prosthetics to what emerge as “microprosthetic”, in which “power acts through molecules that incorporate themselves into our [bodies]” (78-79). I would like to consider the stuplime loops of becoming-slug to counter what Preciado describes as an “ensemble of new microprosthetic mechanisms of control of subjectivity by means of biomolecular and multimedia technical protocols” (33). Emerging in the same fashion as microproesthetics, which function as modes of control, the stuplime loops instead suspend the logics of control and power enabled by dominant modes of microprosthetic technologies. Rather than infesting one’s body with modes of control, the stuplime loops hijack the digital message and present the possibility of thinking otherwise. In her writing on queer cyborgs, Mimi Nguyen argues that “as technologies of the self, prostheses are both literal and discursive in the digital imaginary. They are a means of habitation and transformation, a humanmachine mixture engaged as a site of contest over meanings – of the self and the nonself” (373). Binaries perhaps structure a thinking between human and animal, but prosthetics as process goes beyond the idea of the cyborg as a mixture and maps a new terrain altogether.ReferencesChen, Mel Y. Animacies: Biopolitics, Racial Mattering, and Queer Affect. 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