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March 30, 2008

Material Worlds

A conference in honour of
Professor Susan Pearce

University of Leicester
15-17 December 2008

Professor Susan Pearce is an internationally renowned professor of museum studies and historical archaeologist, who has had a long and important association with material culture studies both within and beyond the museum.

The University of Leicester’s Department of Museum Studies plans to honour Professor Pearce’s contribution to the field with a significant material culture studies conference and the subsequent publication of a volume of essays based on the conference papers. Both the conference and the volume will explore agenda in theoretically-oriented material culture studies. We are now inviting the submission of abstracts. Presentations will address or inform approaches to theorising relationships between people and the material world. The range of potential themes is broad, and might include embodied experience and sensory engagements, the agency of – and distinctions between – objects and persons, the construction of value, etc.

In keeping with Professor Pearce’s own interdisciplinarity, proposals in this area are warmly welcomed from those working on the cutting-edge of object studies not only in archaeology, anthropology and museum studies, but also in a wide range of other disciplines including history, management and organisational studies, geography, literary studies, sociology, philosophy, art history, science technology studies, natural sciences and beyond.

Abstracts

Abstracts of 300-450 words should be sent to the conference convenor, Sandra Dudley, (shd3@le.ac.uk) by 20 March 2008. Any enquiries about the scope of conference may also be sent to the convenor. A draft conference programme will be available here after the end of March 2008.

Registration

Conference registration forms will be available from March 2008. Interest in – and enquiries about – attending may be sent to Barbara Lloyd (bl5@le.ac.uk).

Full conference fee including lunches and refreshments: £150 (concessions £90; daily rates also available)

Bed and breakfast: £50/night
Dinner, including main conference dinner: £20/night

March 27, 2008

Clothing Childhood, Fashioning Society: Children’s Clothes in Britain in the Twentieth Century

Conference Review by Kaori O’Connor, Research Fellow, Department of Anthropology, UCL

The Pasold Research Fund in association with the Department of Anthropology, UCL
Foundling Museum, London WC1, January 17-18, 2008

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Childhood is developing into a mainstream field of contemporary enquiry across the social sciences and humanities, legitimised by new degree courses and research centres, dedicated e-lists and special interest groups in organisations like the AAA, American Studies Association and the American Popular Culture Association. Yet, strikingly, the study of the material culture of childhood – especially clothing – has not kept pace. A number of factors have contributed to the privileging of the inner child over the outer – the avowed determination of ‘child-focussed’ studies to reflect the ‘real’ child, not adult projections; the anti-consumerism and moral panics that studies of childhood consumption in Euro-America tend to evoke; and the tendency within the academy to see ‘kid’s stuff’ as frivolous and superficial. Equally unhelpful has been the penchant of many dress, costume and textile historians for cloth and clothing of the periods during which natural fibres and craft- and hand-work were the norm – the Victorian era is a particular favourite – perpetuating the notion that the enchantments and distinctions of making and meaning do not apply to synthetic fibres or operate in the arena of mass production, a misconception that has remained largely unchallenged since the 1989 publication of Weiner and Schneider’s edited volume Cloth and Human Experience. Finally, there is a lacuna in the field of clothing itself: contemporary fashion theory doesn’t deal with children, only with adults. From this perspective, before the little black dress, there is nothing but a big black hole. Yet the children’s wear industry is one of the most buoyant in the fashion trade, and has been throughout the twentieth century. So why is it invisible in academic analysis? There is a clear need to make childhood material through its clothing, and face up to the questions - whose childhood is it anyway, what is it wearing, and why?

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This was the background to the two-day conference that I organised with Professor Pat Hudson, Director of the Pasold Research Fund. The Pasold (see http://www.pasold.co.uk) is the leading private funder of textile studies and related social, cultural and economic history, supporting individual research, conferences, workshops and publications including the journal Textile History. It is keen to encourage work by students and recent graduates as well as established scholars. The Pasold owes its existence to the success of the Ladybird brand of children’s clothing which, under the direction of the fund’s founder Eric Pasold OBE and his brothers, became the largest and most successful company of its kind in Europe in the post-World War II era, and this added a unique dimension to the conference. It has always been my view that material culture studies and anthropology ‘at home’ have suffered from lack of contact between the academy and industry. Ladybird was at its height during a key transitional period of great change in society, childhood and children’s clothing. Putting the history and ongoing development of the Ladybird brand on the conference agenda, provided the rare opportunity to see childhood from the producers’ perspective.

The conference, the first of its kind, dealt only with the twentieth century and with children’s clothing in Britain, to give depth and focus to the event and also to generate a cohesive body of comparative material. The keynote speaker was Professor Daniel Thomas Cook of Rutgers University-Camden, USA, whose acclaimed 2004 book The Commodification of Childhood: The Children’s Clothing Industry and The Rise of the Child Consumer on children’s clothing in America was a landmark study in the field, both for its subject and its innovative use of trade journals rather than fashion magazines as primary research sources. Opening with a paper entitled Fashion for Whom? Display, Ambiguity and the Performing Child, Dan highlighted the increasing social personhood of children over the twentieth century, and the degree to which retailing is now pitched at the imagined perspective of the child, finishing with three points for future scholarly work in the field – don’t shy away from ambiguity; remember that there is more than one childhood; and maintain a keen eye on multiple observers.

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The conference was arranged in six themed sessions: Design, Marketing and Gender; The Business of Children’s Wear; Knitting and Childhood; Home Made Clothing; Promoting Children’s Clothing and Designer Children. Clare Rose’s (University of Brighton) Democratic Design and Edwardian Children’s Clothing used contemporary photographs, documents and catalogues from 1900-1914 to reveal tensions between conformity and distinctiveness, democracy and elitism, mass-produced and `designer’ styles, that are still with us today. Katrina Honeyman (University of Leeds) showed that, although they did not publicise it, the Leeds multiple tailors produced boyswear as part of their core business from 1900 to 1940, revealing a previously unsuspected ‘youth’ market long before it was thought to have emerged with the sharp young suits for which Leeds later became famous. Alison Carter’s (Museum of Hampshire) paper From the Liberty Bodice to the 28AA Bra: Revealing Stories in the Girls Underwear Department 1900-1940 established the intensity of the childhood memories embedded in the rites of passage of wearing these most intimate of clothes, and the suitability of oral history techniques for recording them.

It is too often forgotten that fashion is a business, as well as an art, and the second session was devoted to Ladybird as a case study. Stanley Chapman (University of Nottingham) gave a definitive account of the economic background to Ladybird’s success in Pasolds Limited, 1930-1970: The Strategies of the Leading British Manufacturer of Children’s Wear. However, no matter how efficient the production and innovative the technology, a business like Ladybird could not be successful unless its products captured the cultural zeitgeist. My paper (Kaori O’Connor, UCL) Ladybird: the Making of a Cultural Icon in the ‘Golden Age‘ of British Childhood, examined the cultural values and constructions of childhood embodied in one of Ladybird’s best-selling designs, the iconic dressing gown worn by the young Babyboomer cohort. Finally, in Manufacturing and Distributing Children’s Wear in a Changing Retail Scene 1970-2000, Bramwell Rudd (formerly Courtaulds Plc) analysed the economic and social changes that led to the end of independent companies like Ladybird.

The textile and technique most closely associated with children’s clothing is knitting, and Sandy Black’s (London College of Fashion) rich visual history Knitting for Children: Fashioned with Love illustrated the striking conservatism of knitting for babies and children which has hardly changed for more than a century, based on her ongoing research into patterns in the V&A and other archive collections. Linda Newington (Winchester School of Art) gave a preview of In the Loop, a three-day international conference on all aspects of knitting, to be held at the Winchester School of Art, University of Southampton, on 15-17 July 2008 (enquiries to J.A.Horgan@soton.ac.uk).

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In the early part of the twentieth century, infants’ and children’s clothing was made or adapted at home, not mass produced, giving mothers and carers literal involvement in the construction of childhood, as shown by Barbara Burman’s (Winchester School of Art) paper on simple garments of the interwar years that embodied current ideas of child health, taken from a popular children’s dressmaking manual. The domestic economies of the poor are well-recorded, but those of the middle classes are largely unknown. Mary Clare Hewlett Martin (University of Greenwich) presented the wardrobe biography of three generations of a professional family to illustrate the genteel strategies of re-making and re-cycling, practices that are assuming a new importance in the light of the need to sustain natural resources and prolong the life of clothes. Noreen Marshall’s (V&A Museum of Childhood) Bargains for the Kiddies: Children’s Clothing from the Selfridges Bargain Basement 1925-1935 showed that, then as now, bargains are not always as economical as they seem, and traced Selfridges offerings from eastern Europe to Oxford Street, demonstrating that the global movement of children’s clothing is nothing new. The Ladybird brand is now owned by Woolworths and in Chinese Whispers: Long Life and Igloos to the Eskimos Paul Seaton, Woolworths and Ladybird Archivist, and author of the Woolworths Virtual Museum (http://museum.woolworths.co.uk) returned to globalisation, describing the cultural value placed on the ‘typically English’ look in the new children’s wear markets of Asia into which Ladybird is expanding, focussing on China where the brand is especially favoured because, for the Chinese, the ladybird is a symbol for good luck.

The emergence of designer children was one of the distinctive clothing developments of the twentieth century. In Little Devils Wear Denim, Pennie Alfrey (University of Loughborough) presented a forensic approach to denim, peeling back the taken-for-granted meanings and associations that surround this now ubiquitous fabric. Annebella Pollen’s (London College of Communication/University of the Arts, London) Mass-produced Dressing Up Costumes and the Commodification of the Imagination explored the intriguing world of princesses, fairies, Disney characters and the occasional puzzling occupational costume. In Brand Values: Clothing the Second-Hand Designer Child in the late 20th Century, Alison J Clarke (University of Applied Arts, Vienna) traced the emergence of the designer child, identified the most desired children’s wear brands, and followed the clothes into a sartorial second life, through new social formations based on designer children’s clothing exchange that are emerging on the internet via ebay.

All Pasold conferences conclude with a session on resources for future research. Hilary Davidson (Museum of London), spoke of the need for museums to expand their holdings of 20th century children’s clothes, a field that has been widely overlooked until now. Katherine Baird (Manager of Archives and Special Collections, London College of Fashion) described the research collections held there, including the Woolmark archive and the newest addition, the recently opened EMAP Archive. EMAP are the publishers of Britain’s leading trade journals on clothing and fashion, including Drapers Record, Menswear and Fashion Weekly, and the collection includes some 700 volumes dating from 1870 to the present. These journals are the equivalent of those American publications that Cook used for The Commodification of Childhood, bringing the conference full circle.

This highly enjoyable conference benefited from its interdisciplinary constitution. Taken together, the papers provided new insights into past and present, producing material that came together in unexpected ways, and generating stimulating dialogue that is ongoing. We all felt the event would establish a new and valuable research field. I hope that, for anthropologists, the work begun here will highlight new possibilities in ethnography at home, in the material culture of childhood, and in the anthropology of business and brands. Generally, it greatly enriched studies of contemporary childhood, demonstrating once again the value of material culture. A publication arising from the conference is planned, as a group we are looking to generate further collaborative efforts and research projects.

Interested parties are asked to contact me.
Dr Kaori O’Connor, Research Fellow, Department of Anthropology, UCL.
Email: kaori-oconnor@clara.co.uk


March 24, 2008

Material Mansfield

London conference & Wellington Museum exhibition

This year see's a new exhibition in Wellington to celebrate the life and work of Katherine Mansfield at her NZ Birthplace Te Puakitanga.

The new exhibition entitled MATERIAL MANSFIELD runs from 19 February to 4 May 2008 and is put on by the Katherine Mansfield Society (admission charge applies). It displays her clothes and possessions, brought together in New Zealand for the first time as well as new creations by contemporary designers who have fallen for her unique sense of style.

As well as being the 120th anniversary of her birth, this year also celebrates the centenary of her arrival in London in 1908 at the age of nineteen, in order to pursue a career as a writer. Within three years she would see her first collection of short stories published – In a German Pension – meet John Middleton Murry, her future husband, and go on to establish herself as one of the writers of some of the twentieth-century’s most remarkable short stories.

Consequently, The Centre for New Zealand Studies at Birkbeck College, University of London,in association with The University of Northampton, are hosting a conference to commemorate Mansfield's exceedingly significant yet short career as a writer.

THE KATHERINE MANSFIELD CENTENARY CONFERENCE

Birkbeck, University of London
4-6 September 2008

This major three-day international conference aims to re-evaluate Katherine Mansfield’s contribution to 20th century literature, as well as assessing the state of Mansfield scholarship and criticism today.

Enquiries to: Professor Janet Wilson or Dr Gerri Kimbers


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Mansfield's Grave, Fontainbleau

March 19, 2008

Commodity Branding Far Predates Modern Capitalism

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From at least Bass Ale’s red triangle—advertised as “the first registered trademark”—commodity brands have exerted a powerful hold over modern Western society. Marketers and critics alike have assumed that branding began in the West with the Industrial Revolution. But a pioneering new study in this month’s issue of Current Anthropology finds that attachment to brands far predates modern capitalism, and indeed modern Western society. The article is currently available free at: http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/toc/ca/current

In “Prehistories of Commodity Branding,” author David Wengrow (University College London, Institute of Archaeology) challenges the widespread assumption that branding did not become an important force in social and economic life until the Industrial Revolution. Wengrow presents compelling evidence that labels on ancient containers, which have long been assumed to be simple identifiers, as well as practices surrounding the production and distribution of commodities, actually functioned as branding strategies. Furthermore, these strategies have deep cultural origins and cognitive foundations, beginning in the civilizations of Egypt and Iraq thousands of years ago.

Branding became necessary when large-scale economies started mass-producing commodities such as alcoholic drinks, cosmetics and textiles. Ancient societies not only imposed strict forms of quality control over these commodities, but as today they needed to convey value to the consumer. Wengrow finds that commodities in any complex, large society need to pass through a "nexus of authenticity.” Through history, these have taken the form of “the bodies of the ancestral dead, the gods, heads of state, secular business gurus, media celebrities, or that core fetish of post-modernity, the body of the sovereign consumer citizen in the act of self-fashioning.” Although capitalism and branding find in each other a perfect complement, they therefore have distinct origins.

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Together with colleague Andrew Bevan, David is organizing an inter-disciplinary conference at the Institute of Archaeology, UCL, called: Cultures of Commodity Branding: Archaeological and Anthropological Perspectives (May 10th-11th, 2008), with speakers including Rick Wilk, Jean-Pierre Warnier, Alison Clarke and many others. Further details at:
http://www.ucl.ac.uk/archaeology/events/conferences/other/commodities-2007/poster_commoditybranding.pdf

A city that sat on its treasure's but didn't see them...

A Story in the NY TImes about Le Corbusier chairs in Chandigarh and some shifty market shenanigans... (link passed on with thanks from Miriam Basilio)

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/19/world/asia/19chandigarh.html?ex=1206590400&en=23228c637beb1978&ei=5070&emc=eta1

March 15, 2008

Giving the Extreme a Sporting Chance

Patrick Laviolette, SVMC Massey University

When the major national and international sporting competitions get underway, entire populations are glued to the television in support of their home sides. Sport enthusiasts travel for miles at great expense across borders and continents, to personally witness their sporting heroes in their favourite games. The competitive edge of bookies’ favourites dominate discussions in the media whilst myths are propagated about the moral and physical prowess of the players and their coaches.

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In deep Cornish waters, summer 2007

The spread of competitive (mostly team) sports such as football, rugby, cricket, hockey, rowing and tennis is historically linked to their adoption in institutional contexts – in educational establishments, in business corporations and for civil defence. Learning institutions forged alliances with sports in Britain through the public school system, so that by the late 19th century competitive team sports were included within the ideal of educating for a ‘mascular Christianity’. This represented ideal physical and spiritual attributes of manhood for moral and military leadership – part of the training for the leaders of an expansive Empire. The spread of sport has therefore had a long relationship with the processes of colonialism.

Today, the globalisation of sporting spectacles benefits from a different type of Empire, massive financial sponsorship. The huge economic associations that they entail and the grandiose scales at which they operate are difficult to take in. The World Cups of football or rugby, the Ashes, Masters, Opens and Olympic Games are indeed as internationally known, standardised and systematically broadcast as are some of the world religions.

Anthropologists have long shown an interest in sport. We inherited a rich body of ethnographic knowledge on sportive activities as embedded in particular social settings such as, for instance, Firth’s (1983) work on hallowed types of dart/spear matches in Tikopia, Geertz’s (1973) depiction of Balinese cockfights and Kildea & Leach’s (1976) representation of Trobriand cricket through ethnographic film. A handful of scholars such as Mauss (1935), Bourdieu (1984) and Deleuze (1992) additionally produced influential theoretical analyses of sport, games and gambling.

There’s also an anthropological legacy in studying extreme behaviour. Needham’s work on headhunting (1976) and Chagnon’s (1968) research on Yanomamo feuds for instance. But the idea of bringing the two together, however, of ethnographically studying the extreme as well as the sporting world – is a fairly new phenomenon (Wheaton 2004; Anthropology Today 2007).

When risk emerged as a topic within the social sciences, attention was, as it often still is, directed to phenomena other than leisure. The dangers of sport have never been very high on the agenda. Some anthropologists have looked at the safety of ethnographers and informants in dangerous places or aggressive fieldwork situations. Unfortunately, however, they often limit their considerations to risk mitigation strategies, chiefly to violent scenarios. But is violence the only companion to risk taking? Ethnographers might intentionally embark on the study of physical or emotional risk as a topic in itself, as in the investigation of possible dangers in urban exploration rather than street crime, for example (as Veronica Davidov reminds us in a previous posting).

Even though the genre of non-competitive sports might frequently be performed individually or in small groups of two or three people, they are highly significant to social scientists. And of particular interest here, they have considerable potential in informing us about methodology, ethics and the tensions between such things as theory and practice, mind and body. For our purposes, the genre in question shall refer specifically to non-motorised activities, even though countless other kinds of risk sports are highly reliant on energy intensive, mechanistic technologies. Indeed, one of the most decisive episodes in the world of stunts dates back to the early 70s when the American motorcycle daredevil Evel Knieval was making his famous leaps.

Most of us will have witnessed such spectacular activities. These days it’s hard not to notice the Jackass phenomenon made popular by MTV. Or the ‘French spiderman’, Alain Robert, who has been scaling high structures for years despite being arrested crossing the 60th floor of the Malaysian Petronas Towers, the tallest twin buildings in the world. Or even free-runners and skateboarders who weave across pavements to perform street acrobatics by hopping over barricades, debris and other obstacles (Borden 2001).

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On high - Alain Robert, Petronas Towers
Kuala Lumpur, spring 2007

The social sciences are now slowly showing an increased interest in the study of these less orthodox games or forms of recreation - those that go beyond the usual traditional team sports (Rinehart & Sydnor 2003). Since many of these activities involve a degree of risk in that its practitioners go up against the elements of nature or architecture in a manner that relies on personal skills for survival, these practices are breeding grounds of institutional concern for insurance companies, ethical committees and funding bodies alike.

Insurance companies may be right to feel that fieldwork often presents unanticipated hazards of all kinds, especially at the very beginning, when facing what are initially unfamiliar peoples, often speaking unfamiliar languages in unfamiliar environments while doing unfamiliar things. Unfamiliarity does not last forever, however. As fieldworkers gain experience, most risks are drastically reduced by learning the appropriate skills and behaviours to cope.

In that sense, ethnographic participant observation comes close to an extreme sport with the added dimension of academic analysis and reflection. Certainly, I have myself examined issues of embodiment, identity, narrative, risk and the materiality of the elements in relation to coastal extreme practices like caving, rock climbing and cliff jumping. Despite participating actively in these activities, I’m still alive to tell the tale. I of course never took my participation so far as to cause more than a few bruises and near misses. I have come to know my own limitations and respect the abilities of those who excel at these activities. By taking things only so far as skills allow, it is often possible to mitigate the worst dangers.

I would therefore encourage ethnographers and other social researchers interested in sport to follow in the steps of people like Allen Abramson at UCL who believes that we need to take the study of alternative sports much more seriously (Abramson & Laviolette 2007). When studying the world of dangerous sport, social anthropologists obviously examine the networks, cultural concepts and life-trajectories involved through interview and observation. What is more problematic for academic ethics committees, funding bodies and insurance companies is when we participate fully in the fleeting moments of euphoria that such practices provide. These are part of the new methodological frontiers that anthropologists now need to explore more comprehensively. We might therefore endeavour to sail a little closer to the wind with our interpretations, theorising and data collection so that the genre of alternative sports and indeed the discipline itself can remain active.


References:
Abramson, A. & P. Laviolette 2007 Cliff-jumping, world-shifting and value-production’. Suomen Antropologi: Journal of the Finnish Anthropological Society. 32 (2), 5-28.

Anthropology Today . 2007. Special Issue ‘Hazardous Sport?’. 26 (6)(guest edited by P. Laviolette)

Borden, I. 2001. Skateboarding, space and the city: Architecture and the body. Oxford: Berg.

Bourdieu, P. 1984. Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste. Trans. R Nice. London: Routledge.

Changon, N. 1968. Yanomamö: The fierce people. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston.

Deleuze, G. 1992. Mediators. In J. Crary & S. Kwinter (eds). Incorporations. NY: Urzone.

Firth, R. 1983. A dart match in Tikopia: A study in the sociology of primitive sport. In Play, games and sport in cultural contexts. J. Harris & R. Part (eds) Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics Press.

Geertz, C. 1973. Deep play: Notes on the Balinese cockfight. The interpretation of cultures. NY: Basic Books.

Kildea, G. & J. Leach 1976. Trobriand cricket: An ingenious response to colonialism. Berkeley: Berkeley Media LLC.

Needham, R. 1976. Skulls and Causality. Man, NS 11 (1): 71-88.

Rinehart, R. & S. Sydnor. (eds.) 2003. To the extreme: Alternative sports inside and out. New York: SUNY Press.

Wheaton, B. 2004. (ed.) Understanding lifestyle sports: Consumption, identity and difference. London: Routledge.

March 11, 2008

Marienne Gullestad (1946-2008)

Daniel Miller, University College London

Marianne Gullestad, a distinguished Norwegian anthropologist has just passed away on Tuesday 10/03/08. In recent years she was working in Oslo and previous to that mainly in Trondheim. She was also twice a visiting scholar in Chicago. Her books in English, in addition to many in Norwegian were:-

2007 Picturing Pity: Pitfalls and Pleasures in Cross-Cultural Communication. Word and Image in a North Cameroon Mission. Oxford and New York: Berghahn Books, 2007.
2006 Plausible Prejudice: Everyday Practices and Social Images of Nation, Culture and Race. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2006.
1997 With Martine Segalen, (eds.) Family and Kinship in Europe. London: Pinter, 1997. (English edition of a book published in French in 1995.)
1996 Everyday Life Philosophers: Modernity, Morality and Autobiography in Norway. Oslo: Scandinavian University Press.
1996 Imagined Childhoods: Constructions of Childhood in Autobiographical Accounts (Edited volume). Oslo: Scandinavian University Press.
1992 The Art of Social Relations. Essays on Culture, Thought and Social Action in Modern Norway. Oslo: Scandinavian University Press. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Scandinavian Library).
1984 Kitchen-Table Society: A Case Study of the Family Life and Friendships of Young Working-Class Mothers in Urban Norway. Oslo: Scandinavian University Press / Oxford University Press. (Two reprints.)

She was a vivacious and impressive individual as well as an outstanding scholar. I was privileged to be asked to write the introduction to a re-issue of her book Kitchen Table Society. I was pleased and honoured to be asked since it was one of the publications that most influenced by own work, and is a classic in material culture studies. I have re-printed here some of my earlier comments:-

Kitchen Table Society could be taken as the starting point for the material culture study of the home interior, and yet what I want to emphasise is, paradoxically, the degree to which this was not a study of the home interior per.se. Indeed, what made this such an important work when it first came out was, rather, that it was in many respects a conventional ethnography - though of the type of population that, on the whole, had not been the subject of conventional ethnographies. The topic was working class women in the town of Bergen on the West coast of Norway. What made this special was that there was nothing special about these people. They were not being studied because they were a problem that academics were supposed to shed light on, such as drug-takers or the unemployed. They represented the neglected topic of the merely ordinary. What makes this conventional, I would say classic, as ethnography is the unremarked focus on what might be called the totality of their lives. The book takes its scope from the obvious experiential sense that these women had of their own lives that everything they did came together because it related to them. Their activity as workers in employment, as housewives, as parents or lovers are all integrated in their experience. Ethnography with its commitment to a holistic approach is intended to reflect that sense of totality.


As a result much of the book is about these women's work, how they deal with the state and with the market, their husbands and their children. But as Norwegians they happen to particularly exacerbate certain tendencies that are characteristic of contemporary secular modernity. The condition that most academics and many populations inhabit today. They live in a world that centres on the private domain, behind the closed doors of the family house. While we may well be more integrated with global economics and politics than the population of any previous period, a good deal of this happens in our living rooms. This integration and exposure occurs through encounters mediated by television and the internet which is where every day we feel so close we can almost rub noses with the politicians and the celebrities we know about in common.

As it happens, if we are turning our attention to the private sphere, what better place to be working than a society that was renowned for its attachment to that very sphere? Norway would be alongside Japan as amongst the first nations one would think of as regions where the privacy of the individual household is at a premium. If the private life of Norwegians could be excavated there was hope that this could be done almost anywhere. By the same token it is women who are clearly the gender that have in so many societies been allocated responsibilities that we associate with the domestic sphere. The neglect of women, their labour and their lives more generally, becomes here central to our failure to understand the nature of our own societies as a whole. This requires not only an understanding of the neglected topic of what women actually do, but a concern with the problem of what has generated the relationships and practice of gender more generally. In addition, in many societies that regard themselves as modern, it is the working class that are regarded as the ordinary, the quotidian. So, as a place to start an anthropology of the private home, working class housewives in Norway seems to have been a particularly appropriate topic with which to begin.

I have no reason to think that Gullestad was particularly influenced by material culture studies or even its elder cousin (that has thrived in Norway) the study of Ethnology, with its fascination with topics such as hunters knives or fishing vessels. Rather it is the centrality of the home itself which, as a good anthropologist, she came to acknowledge and give attention to both in this book and in a subsequent article on the art of home decoration (1992). In a way I would argue it is particularly important that home decoration came to be regarded as a central part of the lives of people for someone for whom this was not an intended topic. This seems a far more convincing argument for its importance than merely a new development in, say, furnishing studies or design history. Indeed there is an underlying issue here, which is that ethnography itself had previously tended to flourish in social settings which are relatively public and accessible. The challenge faced by Gullestad and those of us who have followed her was to penetrate behind the closed doors of highly private societies to work in the place of privacy itself, something that most disciplines that rely on questionnaires and focus groups fail to attempt let alone achieve.

What role then does home decoration have for these women in Gullestad's account? The title of her book, Kitchen-Table Society, indicates its prominence. These are women whose closest relations are often with other housewives and the common activity of reciprocal visiting and chatting around the kitchen table. This chat is itself of major importance, since one of the core characteristics of modern society, by which term I allude to the decline of religion and other forms of legitimation for customary behaviour, is the search for normativity. That is, our concerns and often our anxieties revolve around the basic decision as to just what is the right and appropriate thing to do and say. For these women it is the constant referring back to each other’s behaviour that determines which act of adultery was beyond the pale and which group of bosses or students should be pilloried and reviled. From the point of view of social science, of course, this striving for the normative, for a moral consensus, has been central to academic discussion from Durkheim through to Weber. Most of the major early theorists of the social sciences wanted to understand how a society that had lost its traditional structures of legitimation managed still to develop moral and social norms that people could adhere to.

So a Kitchen-Table Society is one in which society creates one of its most important instruments for reproducing itself around the kitchen-table. Most ethnographies might have drawn attention to this without much thought for the kitchen table itself, but Gullestad is aware that the frame within which the overt activity takes place, as in most frames for behaviour, becomes essential to the possibility of the behaviour and its direction. Kitchen-table societies require the right kitchen. This group of women have to feel that their ability to potentially achieve consensus, to trust each other’s opinions and secrets, depends on a recognition that each is `one of us'. Norway is a particularly egalitarian society and being one of us means that the kitchen must reflect a careful balance. The two crimes to be avoided are, on the one hand, of letting oneself go, of failing to keep up a common standard that can be instantly seen in the care and attention given to furnishing and its maintenance and cleanliness. On the other hand one should not be seen as the kind of person who has social ambitions that would lead to a distance between that individual and her peers, something which may be betrayed in the purchases she has made or the place she accords certain decorative objects in her home. It is the details - the `nice’ wallpaper, the old kerosene lamp now used for decoration, the Italian reproduction of a crying boy and the dark brown tables that tells visitors this is a friendly, we might appropriately say also `homely,’ couple. A couple who subsequently, as fashions change, keep up with the times but don’t try to be any kind of vanguard (1992: 73-5). Renovation itself becomes a way people keep in a kind of tandem with each other.

This careful balance that creates the appropriate frame for social interaction applies as much to the activity of keeping home as to the overall appearance. In order not to `let go' and betray the sense of respectability that they share, an individual must constantly clean, tidy and dust. But it is recognised that this is the means to social intercourse not its replacement. So a person who continues to engage in such activities, who carries on dusting and cleaning when a visitor is present is said to `have dust on their brains' and could be rebuked on these grounds. So in Kitchen-Table Society we see the activity of home-decoration as a kind of core to living in the modern world.

The Body Displayed: Etiquette in early Siamese Manuscripts

British Museum Centre for Anthropology Seminar Series

Thursday 27th March 2008, 10.30 a.m.

Prof. Barend J. Terwiel, (Emeritus Professor of Thai History, Asia-Africa Institute, University of Hamburg)

The Body Displayed: Etiquette in early Siamese Manuscripts

Prof. Terwiel is a renowned specialist in the social and cultural history of Thailand and has published 11 books and over 100 journal articles. He is the author of Monks and Magic (Curzon Press, reprinted 2001).

All welcome

March 7, 2008

Urban Exploration: a Subculture at a Glance

Veronica Davidov, NYU

As subcultures go, "urban exploration" or "urbexing" is a very materially embedded one, where community formation happens around specific physical locations, even though as a global phenomenon, it is almost entirely facilitated by the internet. In its current form its inception is attributed to Jeff Chapman, a.k.a. “Ninjalicious,” who founded the zine “Infiltration: the zine about going places you're not supposed to go” and authored “Access All Areas: a user's guide to the art of urban exploration” (2005) but its roots go back to such groups as the San Francisco Suicide Club, whose members, influenced by surrealism and Dadaism, staged renegade events in abandoned spaces, and the Cacophony club, an anarchic creative urban group associated with culture-jamming, Hakim Bey's philosophy of TAZ, and infiltrating places off-limits to the public. Currently there are different branches and genres of urban exploration, based in different agendas and philosophies, and syncretic subcultures that combine “urbexing” with other pursuits. Parkour (or “free running”) practitioners use abandoned spaces for training to move through urban spaces and negotiate obstacles such as buildings, fences, and walls with maximum efficiency and speed. The Untergunther is a clandestine French “team” that recently attracted media attention for restoring the 19th-century clock in the Pantheon of Paris (King 2007), works on restoring abandoned or decaying heritage objects in secrecy and anonymity. Groups such as Dark Passage and The Madagascar Institute in New York City, reclaim abandoned spaces for games, art installations, and performances, as a part of a particular philosophy of urban preservation. At this point urban exploration in all of its forms has coalesced into a global subculture that is gaining popularity, even as the members regularly emphasize the important of overexposure. What all of these subgroups share is a value system concerned with locations and material remnants that, in the mainstream capitalist value system are nothing more than negative spaces around the trajectory of economic and industrial progress. An urban explorer or “urbexer” is someone who finds and goes into abandoned buildings. The motivation for such excursions, and the frameworks within which such excursions are undertaken vary, as discussed above, but in most cases this is an illegal, or semi-legal activity, often fraught with physical risks, and one that is extremely rewarding for the people involved in this subculture.

The common denominator in all "hot spots" of urban exploration is a period of economic decay in the general vicinity. In the United States hubs of “urbexing” are areas that belong to the so-called Rust Belt, most notably Detroit, where in certain parts of the city close to 50% of properties are vacant or abandoned (as one Detroit explorer said to me in personal communication “it's kind of hard not to [go into abandoned buildings] around here. They're pretty much a part of life. I'm just glad i dont have to live in them like a lot of people around here”) and Gary Indiana, originally founded as a service sector city by the United States Steel Corporation, where the downtown has turned into a virual ghosttown with the decline of the city's manufacturing base. Other examples of economically depressed areas becoming “hubs” for urban exploration include New England and old mill towns like Lowell, MA, Pennsylvania steel industry towns like Bethlehem and Allentown. Certain branches of “urbexing” focus on specific types of locations, which themselves always encode a history of financial decline and ineffective management preceding the physical decay. For example, exploring abandoned state mental asylums is popular with New England explorers, as budget cuts and lack of funding within the mental health system in Massachusetts in the early 1990s forced a number of institutions to close. The most notable of these institutions are “Kirkbrides”--mental hospitals designed and built utilizing the philosophy of a 19th-century doctor Thomas Kirkbride, who advocated an asylum system called “Moral Treatment” and authored On the Construction, Organization and General Arrangements of Hospitals for the Insane—an 1880 treatise on design, construction, and administration of mental hospitals that emphasized the patients' humanity and dignity, and the benefits of access to a natural environment away from urban centers for improving mental health.

Extravagant in design and expensive to manage, most of the “Kirkbrides” in New England are inactive at this point, and many are being torn down and redeveloped or turned into luxury condominiums.

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Worcester State Hospital, a “Kirkbride” in Worcester, MA

On the international front, one of the richest locations for urban exploration is the former USSR territory--entire towns near the Arctic circle that were built to be centers of industrial production and mining manned by prison labor, state-funded factories that did not survive privatization, networks of Young Pioneer summer camps and “houses of culture.” The “holy grail” of urban explorers worldwide is Pripyat, the town hat housed the doomed Chernobyl nuclear station reactor 4, the culprit of the 1986 nuclear plant accident. Several companies organize tours to the area, but many explorers sneak in by themselves, and visit areas the tours do not cover, often with a Geiger counter in hand.

At the core of the subculture lies a special relationship that participants experience with physical spaces and the material infrastructure left behind by the waxes and wanes of a capitalist industrialized economy. Inherently, they create a system of value around objects that have been excised out of the economy of value. The value is attached to precisely the same factors that devalue these spaces in the mainstream economy: extravagance to the point of inefficiency, loss of use-value, severe decay. For people living in economically depressed areas, this provides an alternative relationship with their physical surroundings, when those surroundings provide something other than a narrative of economic decline. “Urbexing” is also associated with a different relationship to history in progress. Once factories, hospitals, hotels, or apartment complexes are abandoned, they are, in a sense, relegated to the past; they become dated by the very objects frequently strewn around within their abandoned walls—newspapers and journals that are decades old, long-expired bottles of medications, portraits of then-current presidents, official records from the first half of the 20th century, former patients' x-ray films, undeveloped rolls of police mugshots, et cetera. Many explorers talk about the locations they infiltrate as places “where time stands still” or “where time has stopped.”

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Polaroid found on the floor of a Massachusetts steam plan depicting it during its days of operation

Many explorers consider it their duty to document these pockets of time, thus creating a historical record of information that, in a lot of cases, offers a glimpse into the institutional cultures of the past, yet will never be officially archived. For many explorers this motivation is especially urgent when the places in question are slated for destruction. Although in general there are different attitudes regarding removing materials from a location, with treasure hunters who explore partially to add to their collection of interesting mementos from various places on one end of the spectrum, and explorers who subscribe to the “take only photographs, leave only footprints” attitude at the other extreme, once demolition of a location is imminent (i.e. the date has been set for the near future, or demolition has actively started), most explorers believe that it is ethical to remove objects that otherwise will be destroyed.

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Railroad records in an abandoned train repair facility

The “urbex” subculture has a particular aesthetic and shared discourse, both of which frequently drawn on particular popular culture referents. American “urbexers” often invoke the film and the subsequent video game “Silent Hill,” in either descriptions of locations, or (complimentary) assessments of one another's photographs.

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Screenshot from “Silent Hill” Sony Pictures 2006

Russian explorers often call themselves “stalkers.” The term is derived from a popular Soviet-era dystopian science fiction novel by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (1972) called “Roadside Picnic,” which was later adapted into a cult film “Stalker” by Tarkovsky. Both the novel and the film are set in and around a mysterious forbidden “zone,” where decommissioned and abandoned remnants of urban life are reclaimed by nature, and strange and dangerous objects and spaces pose danger to visitors. “Stalkers” are for-hire guides who know their way through the Zone. This discursive framework is reinforced in the cybersocial aspect of “urbexing”—many Russian “urbexers” have screen handles that are some variations on the word “stalker,” or employ other allusions to the novel. The abandoned hydroelectric plant near Tallinn, Estonia, where “Stalker” was filmed in 1979 is somewhat of a pilgrimage site for explorers who find themselves in the area.

As with many subcultures, self-making is an important part of urban exploration. There are several paths to status acquisition.

“Hardcore” explorer status is difficult to achieve without a track record of visits to locations that are considered especially difficult or dangerous to access and explore, including abandoned hospitals that are located on campuses of still-active hospitals, military property. Certain locations confer the status of a “tough” explorer on someone who successfully infiltrates them. This includes unusually hazardous places, such as offshore ship graveyards, buildings that have reached a dangerous (even by an urban explorer's assessment) level of decay, or buildings that require scaling walls or crawling through poison ivy to gain access.

Certain skills, such as photography, or creative tagging also create status. Many urban explorers are amateur, professional, or semi-professional photographers, and most online “urbex” forums have a space dedicated to people sharing and critiquing photographs. Certain locations have “iconic” photographs attached to them—shots featuring specific composition from a particular angle taken over and over again by different “urbexers.” Coming up with original versions, or “new takes” on these iconic subjects in specific locations—the chandelier in the now-demolished Metropolitan State Hospital (Waltham, MA) cafeteria, the theater in a particular New England abandoned mental asylum, the remnants of mailboxes in an abandoned Art Deco post office in Gary, Indiana—earns respect and status.

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Chandelier, Metropolitan State Hospital cafeteria

Creative self-portraits or portraits of other explorers are welcomed and appreciated. Certain explorers, such as the explorer behind the “Opacity” website become well-known in the “urbex” circles for their distinctive style of composition and use of color.

Other ways of garnering status in the subculture consist of sharing with peers in a way that reflects awareness about own status relative to others, and the strictly observed, if not formally codified rules around exchange within the “urbex” community. Reciprocity is emphasized. “Asking for handouts”—i.e. appearing in a cyber-forum without preexisting social connections with the other members, and asking about “cool places” or asking how to get access to a particular location, is a grave, and quickly sanctioned faux pas. Discretion about shared information is expected. As long as these rules are observed, social ties within the group are constantly established and reinforced through exchanges which sometimes take form of generalized reciprocity (Sahlins 1972), where people contribute knowledge (such as maps of locations or historical information gleaned from archival research) to the shared ingroup knowledge pool, without keeping track of give-and-take, but mostly manifest as instances of balanced reciprocity (ibid.), where information about a specific location is traded for information about another specific location. Sometimes well-established individual “urbexers,” or small groups of “urbexers” who explore together make “urbex”-themed trips to different cities, or states. Usually they are shown hospitality by the explorers local to that city. This hospitality often includes lodging and transportation, as well as showing the guests local abandoned sites of interest. At some later point this hospitality may be reciprocated on the guests' home turf.

The length of one's involvement in “urbexing” is also directly correlated to status, both because a long-time explorer has many opportunities to participate in the kind of reciprocity described above, and because newer explorers often never had a chance to explore locations that were legendary in the “urbex world,” before they were torn down. Examples of such places include Danvers State Hospital and Metropolitan State Hospital, Byberry State Hospital in Pennsylvania, and the Ambassador Hotel on the Asbury Park Boardwalk in New Jersey. Frequently physical “souvenirs” from such locations function as markers of status and “proof” that this status was legitimately earned.

Urban exploration is an evolving and rich subculture that enables production of social identity and personhood inscribed into an alternative value system for an entire material infrastructure that has lost its use-value by the criteria of the mainstream society. Considering the relationship between the material and the social in the communities that form around exploration of abandoned buildings is a fascinating and rewarding subject for an in-depth ethnography.

References

King, Emilie Boyer, “Undercover Restorers Fix Paris Landmark's Clock,” The Guardian, accessed on 2/04/08
Kirkbride, Thomas S., “On the Construction, Organization and General Arrangements of Hospitals for the Insane,” American Journal of Insanity, 37:348-351, January 1881
Ninjalicious, Access All Areas: A User's Guide to the Art of Urban Exploration, Infilpress 2005
Sahlins, Marshall, Stone Age Economics, 1972, Aldine Transaction Press
Strugatsy, Arkady and Boris, Roadside Picnic, trans. By A. Dubois, MacMillan Press, 1972

March 4, 2008

RAI Film at the ESRC Festival of Science 08

STREET FICTIONS AND REALITIES:
CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES ON FILM @ THE FOUNDLING MUSEUM

Friday 7th March, 6.30-9.30PM,
The Foundling Museum, 40 Brunswick Square, WC1N 1AZ.

This is an excellent opportunity to catch up with a topic discussed at our last year's Festival; 'Schoolscapes' by David MacDougall is the winner of our Basil Wright Film Prize in 2008, and we are pleased to give you the rare opportunity to see 'Pride of Place', Kim Longinotto's NFTS graduation film.

An evening of documentary short film screenings by visual anthropologists, exploring the experiences of children in India, Ethiopia and Malawi, separated from their parents and finding imaginative ways to create homes for themselves. Plus a free glass of wine and the chance to explore the art galleries and collections of the Foundling Museum, Britain's original home for abandoned children. Doors open at 6.30, first film screening will be at 7pm. Open to all.

FREE BUT BOOKING REQUIRED. To book a free place call 0207 387 0455 or email education@therai.org.uk

We are also running some free evening screenings the following week at the Royal Anthropological Institute office itself in conjunction with this event. They are all about childhood experiences of boarding school life and each film will be preceded by some fantastic short films made by Greenwich Community College students who did a visual anthropologist course. Details are below:

ANTHROPOLOGY OF BOARDING SCHOOL FILMS @ THE RAI

During the week following the Friday night event the Childhood Experiences on Film series continues with three intimate (max 20 people) film screenings looking at life at boarding schools. Open to all. These screenings will take place at the screening room in the Royal Anthropological Institute, 50 Fitzroy Street, London, W1 5BT.

PRIDE OF PLACE
Dorothea Gazidis & Kim Longinotto 1976 (59 minutes)
Date: Monday 10th March: 6.30-8.30pm
Venue: RAI, 50 Fitzroy Street, London W1T 5BT

A rarely seen classic by Kim Longinotto takes a dark look at the boarding schools she ran away from as a teenager. Preceded by short film: The Good Ol' Days by students from Greenwich Community College.

THE NEW BOYS
David MacDougall 2003 (100 minutes)
Date: Tuesday 11th March: 6.30-8.30pm
Venue: RAI, 50 Fitzroy Street, London W1T 5BT

Filmmaker David MacDougall follows a group of new boys during their first term at the "Eton of India," capturing their conflicts and friendships, jokes and loneliness. Preceded by short film Talk of the Trade by students from Greenwich Community College.

SCHOOL SCAPES
David MacDougall 2007 (77 minutes)
Date: Wednesday 12th March 6.30-8.30pm
Venue: RAI, 50 Fitzroy Street, London W1T 5BT.

MacDougall continues his exploration of schools life at the progressive Rishi Valley School in India, founded by the philosopher Krishanmurti. Preceded by short film Anglesea Road: Mini Somalia by students from Greenwich Community College.

FREE BUT BOOKING REQUIRED. To book a free place call 0207 387 0455 or email education@therai.org.uk

It would be a pleasure meeting you at these occasions!

Susanne Hammacher
Film Officer
The Royal Anthropological Institute