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May 15, 2008

The Yoruba Body

Julie Botticello, PhD candidate, University College London

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Photo 1: Herbal tonics and supplements sold on the street market stall of a Yoruba vendor in London come from the Caribbean, Hawaii, Tahiti, the UK and Canada.

According to the Oxford dictionary (1), a body can be ‘the physical structure of a person, including the bones, flesh and organs’ or ‘a group of people with a common purpose or function acting as an organized unit’, among other things. It is in both of these senses that this thesis addresses the notion of a ‘Yoruba body’—on the one hand the concrete physical being of one’s person (together with the spiritual aspiration of the person who is that body) and on the other, the social body, the group in which some sort of shared or collective identification takes place.

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Photo 2: Bottles of oils are prepared by having the Bible spoken over them. These confer spiritual blessing, inherent in the now translocated word of God, onto the wearer.

The idea to undertake research among the Yoruba people living in London arose organically in response to demographic changes taking place in my local area of residence, where a steadily increasing number of Yoruba people from Nigeria have been resettling. With that resettlement process, a number of material goods and services providers, including food stuffs, restaurants, textiles, dressmaking studios, street market stalls, and Pentecostal churches, to name a few, have been set up to respond to the needs of this burgeoning population. With such a plethora of material goods geared specifically for that user group, initially I hypothesized that self- and group- identification while living in a diaspora would be found in objectified forms and that these would be particular objects coming out of Nigeria and west Africa. Yet, as my research developed and my understanding deepened, I came to realize that the identification markers I sought for understanding oneself on a daily basis, were to be found more in notions surrounding the body, its physical health, its spiritual well-being, and its need to remain socially relevant, than in any one static form or concept.

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Photo 3: ‘Spraying’, the showering single (US dollar) bills onto the celebrant at her birthday party, serves to legitimize not only the host, but also those who take part in this exchange practice of mutual social validation.

These three aspects to body—the physical, the spiritual and the social—and how they relate to self- and group- identification roughly correspond to the places in which the research was undertaken: the street market stall for herbal medicines and advice for improved physical health, including procreation; the Pentecostal church for spiritual revival and promised manifest success in the world through embodied action and belief in the word of God; and rite-of-passage celebrations for expression of social bonds through the manifestation and perpetuation of material and symbolic debts and exchanges.

Guyer (2) postulates that over the past 500 years of African history, it is people who are the most important good, but that relationships between people and things should not be overlooked, for these remain vital for the expression and objectification of this wealth in people notion. In my own research findings, material objects have primary roles to play in the making of these Yoruba bodies, as material objects embody both material and immaterial qualities and enable these to be conveyed in direct relation to those bodies. In the physical realm, it is the actual material constitution and potency of the herbal medicines which work in the body, actively effecting visible healing changes. Material objects also function in the spiritual domain, where the word of God is offset into commutable forms, such as oil and water, which can then be doused or drunk, enabling Bible passages to come into direct contact with the bodies of the church members and work, as agents bearing God’s word, for them. Objects also function to objectify the social wealth and status of persons. This is not something acquired in isolation, but as part of a system of material (and social) exchange, enabling a selection of people to be part of the link. This conspicuous expression of social ties through objects also clearly demarcates who is not included in the mutual validation network.

Reconsidering the list of local goods and services post-fieldwork, there is more than a glimmer of global diffusion present in it. In that regard, the objects and practices utilized to make the Yoruba body do not necessarily come from Nigeria, or Africa for that matter, but are drawn from a wider global pool. Given that Yoruba people are themselves a social construct comprised of smaller ethnic or allegiance groups who, in the (global) diaspora become a collective ‘nation’ which spans the boundaries of any one nation state, it should not be surprising that it is global objects which are recast by the Yoruba people into nourishment for a threefold ‘Yoruba’ body.

I am interested to hear of others’ work in this or similar areas and in comments about my research findings.

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May 7, 2008

Gaucho Clothing: An Ethnographical Analysis of the Traditionalist Pedagogy of the 'pilchas'

Ceres Karam Brum, Professor of the Education Fundamentals, Department of the Federal University of Santa Maria, in the state of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil. cereskb@terra.com.br

In this research I wish to propose a reflection about the Gaucho clothing and especially about the prenda dress in Rio Grande do Sul. I intend to show a little of its history, relating it to the other Traditionalist outfits, presented by some historians of clothing and folklorists. I want to situate the creation of the prenda dress in the context of elaboration of the Gaucho Traditionalist Movement (MTG), in the 1950's.

The creation of the pilchas is inside of this process. Pilcha is a valuable object such as an adornment, jewel, money. In the language of the Gaucho Traditionalist Movement this means is the typical gaucho clothing. The prenda dress is called pilcha.

The research is inserted in the reflections of the project The Gaucho Traditionalist Movement and the School. Educational and Pedagogical Perspectives. An Anthropological Analysis on the (Re)configurations of the Plural Identities, that I have been developing in the Education Center of the Federal University of Santa Maria since 2006.

Besides the issue of the relation school/Traditionalist, in general lines, the project aims at characterizing the Gaucho Traditionalist Movement or the Traditionalism as a cultural movement that worships the historical and mythical figure of the gaucho in the present. For such endeavor the Traditionalists represent it in various ways, producing a complex cultural universe that includes, among other elements: clothing, language, dance, food, animals, songs, work. These representations are characterized as gaucho traditions and related to the typical gaucho, diacritics that potentialize collective and individual identifications related to the affirmation of the “regional” in the Rio Grande do Sul.

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May 1, 2008

Tourist Objects and Objectives: Transformations in Material Culture of Tourism

Serban Vaetisi, PhD Cultural Anthropology, University of Cluj

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Photo 1. National Museum of the American Indian (Washington DC)

The Museum store sells not only postcards and slides but reproductions of pottery, fabrics, statuary, and jewelry. It handles books, uses greetings cards to popularize knowledge of the museum’s holdings, and generally functions as a commercial publicist. (Quimby, 1978, pp. 171-172)

Through its material constitution and the reiterative effects of its culturally produced durability, it [material culture] becomes constitutive of desired and imagined subjectivities either nostalgic, futuristic or transformative […] (Buchli, 2002, p. 9)

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Photo 2. Traditional architecture of the Pueblo American Indian (Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado) source: visitusa.com

Introduction
This is a research sketch on “Constructing and understanding Tourism through Material Culture”, based on some ethnographic experiences on the Eastern United States coast.

Overview
This is a project on how material culture creates tourism and how we can understand structures and processes implied in tourism industry and practices through the study of its materiality.

The research draws on ethnographic fieldworks as participant observant and tourist in such different places as: Washington DC, New York City, St. Augustine (Florida), Hilton Head Island (South Carolina), Bluffton (South Carolina), Orlando (Florida) and Miami (Florida). We refer in this draft to the first three sites.

This multi-sited ethnography is justified by tracing observation on different types of tourism: museum tourism, urban tourism, historical tourism, ecological tourism, heritage tourism, entertainment tourism, and ‘sun, sea and sand’ tourism.

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Photo 3. Indian traditional dwellings around the National Museum of the American Indian (Washington DC)

Nevertheless, this research is not organized in the idea of studying diverse forms of tourism and does not aim to differentiate among types of tourism, but it is mainly interested in how material culture shapes and is shaped within the tourism, as a whole. The different touristic sites provided us just distinct ethnographic material and different cultural perspectives.

This study relies on previous interests on alternative tourism (Vaetisi, 2006) and issues related to community, identity and tourism development in Southeastern United States (Vaetisi, 2008, ms.). If within these two cited works we were mainly interested in aspects such as the local-global relations, ideological constructions of nature and culture as well as processes and challenges of urban development in association with tourism, in this study we are mainly focused on the material culture of tourism.

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Photo 4. Statue of Liberty visited by tourists (New York)

We approach tourism largely from an anthropological perspective (Nash, 1996), considering its last decades alternative forms (Stronza, 2001) in search of recapturing values as history, nature and education (Eadington&Smith, 1992). We approach material culture considering the processes of economic/social/cultural/political/psychological/expressive needs through consumption (Miller, 1987; 1998) and the symbolic construction of identities and social lives that material objects provide (Dant, 1999; Berger, 1992) from a broad theoretical perspective (Buchli, 2004; Tilley, 2006).

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Photo 5. “Statue of Liberty” in a live statue street performance (New York)

A specific theoretical approach of material culture is based on using the concepts of transformation and translation, seen as both ‘processes of materialization’ and ‘artefact effects’ (Buchli 2002): objects and objectives of tourist immediate use and industry seen not only in theoretical processual perspective but in their material transformation/translation as precise, contextual objects. This being in fact one of the first-hand ethnographic attitudes of the researcher: observing how objects appear and are represented as different material things, and subject of variation and change within the cultural contexts they refer to.

Our research is aiming to address the following aspects of material culture: architecture, urban landscape and monuments; homes, furniture, landscape and backyard objects; cloth; gadgets, souvenirs, iconic objects and art objects; ethnic, domestic and industrial objects; technology and design; food. For this discussion on transformation - architecture, monuments, gadgets, iconic objects and clothes were especially taken into consideration.

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April 22, 2008

Packaging Paradise: Sonic Branding of the South Pacific

Janet Borgerson and Jonathan Schroeder, University of Exeter

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Hawaii-inspired music marketed via popular record albums, radio shows, and Hollywood film soundtracks aided Hawaii’s transformation in the popular imagination from a mysterious ‘primitive’ paradise into the 50th U.S. state. Indeed, by constructing and capturing the temptingly tropical so-called ‘sounds’ of Hawaii on the latest hi-fi recording equipment, the music industry offered up Hawaiian music as an achievement of modern technology, promoting these U.S. islands as an acoustic, as well as a tourist, paradise. Popular Hawaiian music’s marriage of stereo technology and so-called authentic sounds produced a repertoire of songs, a musical identity, and an auditory brand asset, creating a potent force and a performative example in the sonic branding of Hawaiian paradise. Indeed, what became known worldwide as Hawaiian music still provides a soothing soundtrack for South Pacific holidays, backyard luau parties, or ironic late night lounging.

The Hawaiian record album formed an important stage of Hawaii’s construction as a conceptual resource, just as pineapple, sugar and battleships played important roles at earlier stages. For decades the iconic Hula girl and her musical accompaniment have formed the foundation of a strongly appealing Hawaiian identity, making Hawaii instantly recognizable the world over. Contemporary efforts to re-establish ‘authentic’ Hawaiian motifs in Hawaii, too, draw upon a concocted image (Halualani 2002). Informing even native islanders’ conceptions of Hawaiian identity, these images fall under an ontological shadow. Hawaii remains an important tourist destination, strategic military outpost, and ‘tropical paradise’. Reflected in such record album titles as ‘Island Paradise,’ ‘the Lure of Paradise,’ and ‘Hawaiian Paradise,’ Hawaii has been represented as paradise on earth. Western Judeo-Christian culture gives paradise two central meanings: the Garden of Eden and heaven. Record album covers emphasize the former, featuring the women of paradise clad in ‘native cloth,’ peering out from palm fronds, sensually frolicking in the ocean tide. Indeed, a Hawaiian vacation might be considered the ultimate American consumer product – allowing anyone who can afford a ticket to participate in the neo-colonial project through a re-creation of discovering Hawaii.

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In this project, we turn a critical gaze onto a veritable archive of consumer artifacts – including our collection of over 400 Hawaiian LPs that provide a wealth of data – invoking a range of issues around consumption, objectification, and representation. Album covers, liner notes, and songs provide sites for an analysis of the representation of Hawaii in popular culture around the time it gained statehood in 1959. Record albums were given away by airlines, travel agents, and tour companies as part of broader efforts to attract visitors to Hawaii, and moreover supported the nation-building radio show, Hawaii Calls. The record album covers and songs under scrutiny are still available, often smartly repackaged as ‘exotica,’ ‘lounge’ and ‘chill’ in CD stores worldwide.

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Hawaiian records – cover art, liner notes and song lyrics – often reflect a dominant cultural view of the exotic other. Interestingly, the typical themes and tropes displayed in Hawaiian record albums -- paradise, escape, sexuality, tropicality, going native – are present in many marketing campaigns for products ranging from suntan oil to corporate relocation. Thus seemingly innocuous material artifacts create and maintain a discourse – produced through the use of models, poses, and conventions from art history and advertising design.

Record albums are useful sights for material culture studies for several reasons. First, they are durable. Records from the 1950s remain widely available today, collected and coveted by consumers, and recirculate as retro icons. Used records are sold by the thousands in vinyl stores, at record fairs, and on the Internet; and, surprisingly, vinyl has rebounded as a viable niche within the music industry. Furthermore, old records are often re-released on compact disc, thus enjoying a new life. Although images from 1950s and 1960s advertisements usually appear hopelessly dated, record cover designs enjoy new life on compact discs that cash in on ironic trends or retro fashions. Second, as consumer artifacts, records and CDs exemplify crucial material practices, such as identity building, collecting, and invoking nostalgic reverie. Third, record cover design was a driving force for graphic art during the decades after World War II. Many leading artists and graphic designers produced record covers, some of which are considered collectible classics.

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April 18, 2008

Materiality of School and Memory

Lisa Rosén Rasmussen, PhD student, Department of Educational Sociology, Danish School of Education – University of Aarhus

The rough asphalt against the knees in the schoolyard, the teacher’s golden watch chain replaced with trousers in brown velour, the wooden pen between the fingers, ink dripping everywhere, embarrassingly skipping mummy’s sandwiches in the bin. Standing in the sunny schoolyard (maybe on the bench), sitting in the classroom (tables in lines, tables in groups), running along the corridor (painted grey, painted orange), and hiding behind the bicycle shed or in the dark basement.

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The changes in the Danish folkeskole [primary and secondary school] after 1945 have been profound. Judging from political visions and pedagogical strategies, there seems to be all the differences in the world between the strictly academic school of the 1950s, the progressive school of the 1970s and the strongly individualised and consumer-oriented school taking its form in the 1990s. But when looking at everyday life and the world (and creation) of the school pupil, what then are the implications of these changes. My Phd-project sets out to explore: What matters when it comes to being (or becoming) a pupil, taking part in the daily life and festive occasions of school? How have political incentives, pedagogical norms and practices, relations of authority, categories of class, gender etc. been taken up, lived and reframed in individual processes of subjectification?

The empirical material of my project is made up of individual life story interviews with 3 generations from a school on the outskirts of Copenhagen. The former pupils went to school in the 50s, the 70s and the 90s, respectively. In addition a number of group interviews have been carried out in the context of the old school. At first the interview material invites to applying a narrative approach, but storying the often non-verbalised memories of childhood schooling tends to be a challenging task. Though, the lingering and the laughter, the tears and regrets tell that school must have mattered – and still matters. Furthermore, when talking about the memory of past school experiences, the informants keep returning to elements of materiality in their struggle for creating coherent narratives. Through objects, places, and through the body wordless memories of schooling are given presence. Materiality seems to be important to the memory of school in a subtle (and unnoticed) way. Looking closer, materiality in its different forms is part of, enables and shapes the memories. In the memories of school, materiality is relevant in relation to collected grade books, school photos, exercise books and worn down school buildings as well as in careful and vivid descriptions of pens, benches, classrooms etc. Taking the embodiment so closely linked to these school memories into account, it might even be possible to say that the experiences of school – of discipline and of experimentations – are also somehow materialised. In this a twofold role of materiality is linked together in the relations between the very processes of schooling and the memory of such. This is not a statement about the past as simply stored either mentally or materially. Rather, recollection is perceived as a reinvention of the past and of the meaning-making processes connected to it. Still, it keeps a link to the past, though, continuously being reworked and not simply repeated or reconstructed.

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April 6, 2008

The Body Beautiful

Emily Clark, Ph.D. candidate, College of Creative Arts, Massey Univ.

As the contemporary rallying cry to be screened as a means of ‘prevention’ against life threatening diseases and ailments gets ever louder, my research addresses the intricate processes of imaging the body in today’s climate. Artists have risen to the challenge of portraying the somatic using these complex technologies and offered up alternative visions to those mostly demanded and processed through scientific methodologies. More often than not, an artist is compelled to work with the medical profession to achieve the required portrayals. But as much of the medical science community are dubious about the contribution that artists make in the field, it seems to be time to investigate exactly what participation they do have, however subtly. Hence, the core problematic that this project addresses is how much creativity is incorporated into the so-called ‘objective’ view of an imaging technology, which is placed at the very epicentre of our social understanding of the healthy body?

Background
To say that the image as produced by X-Rray, CT, MRI or any other contemporary medical imaging technology, is an image of objectivity, can no longer be claimed – if indeed it ever could. These images, mostly seen in the auspices of a medical environment, and delivered by the authoritative character in the starched white coat, are highly complicated and politically charged. This projection of the state of our bodies does not just stop at the machine.

In the form of documentation and/or representation, the body portrayed and projected, is revealed not so much as the body in itself but as the framed body, both literally and culturally. In most areas of what we call the ‘civilized’ world, from ancient India to China, through the mountain ranges of the Caucasus, the body and medicine have involved complex drawings that reveal what the medical profession of the day and culture were looking for – the elements, the chi, the muscles and sinews, the flow of blood and so forth.

In the realm of contemporary western art, especially since the arrival of photography, the Cartesian dialectic dividing the body and the mind, appears to have become increasingly pronounced. Notable thinkers in the field of cultural and visual studies, for example Betty Holtzmann Kevles (1997) have written on how imaging of the body through various technologies has, through the ages endangered and compromised social relationships by privileging the health of some and not others. There has also been considerable work done, especially by Lisa Cartwright (1995), on how the enthusiasm to use these more elaborate technologies coincides with increased dissemination of these images in the creative and popular culture worlds of visual art and cinema, as well as perhaps more controversially, in advertising and marketing.

The shift from ‘reading’ the state of the body to screening the ‘image’ of our bodies is subtle, but suggests that the visceral entity might once again be rendered unsavoury and distasteful as Foucault (1973) points out in his seminal publication, The Birth of the Clinic:

"Instrumental mediation outside the body authorizes a withdrawal that measures the moral distance involved; the prohibition of physical contact makes it possible to fix the virtual image of what is occurring well below the visible area. For the hidden, the distance of shame is a projection screen. What one cannot see is shown in the distance from what one must not see".

We can see, from early and diversely originating illustrations (Fig. 1) that as well as being sources of information for the practice of medicine and anatomy, they were also laden with metaphors and cultural meanings that were particular to the peoples for which it was serving. In other words, the images themselves spoke volumes about the cultural practice of looking at the body being ‘enworlded’. They therefore appear as representations of the model or ideal body imbued with cultural meanings, with the authority of the image being given by the necessary surrounding written texts.

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Daniel Ricco: Mechanical anatomical plate
from Ristretto anomico. Venice 1790

The sophistication of contemporary technologies, on the one hand deals directly with the body as a singular entity allowing the peculiarity of the individual be viewed, whilst at the same time abstracting the body to fit within the parameters of the viewing machine.

Continue reading "The Body Beautiful" »

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

Continue reading "Urban Exploration: a Subculture at a Glance" »

February 29, 2008

Ethnographic Documentation Project

Sarah Mengler, University College London

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October last year saw the commencement of an eleven month AHRC project, based around the UCL Ethnography Collection. The geographical composition of the collection is diverse and includes objects from Africa (in particular West Africa), Oceania, North and South America, as well as smaller numbers of Asian and European objects. Acquisitions have originated from a range of sources, including academic staff and private collectors, as well as institutions such as The Wellcome Historical Medical Museum (WHMM), the latter numbering around 300. Studying the Wellcome objects has offered a valuable method of both navigating through formal museum nomenclature and highlighting the material culture of museum documentation process.

Wellcome archives estimate that on Sir Henry Wellcome’s death in 1936, he had amassed over one million objects. The non-medical collections, mostly comprising ethnographic material, were dispersed to museums both within the UK and overseas through ten ‘installments’ during the years 1949-1954. This coincided with Professor Daryll Forde’s formation of a small teaching collection in the anthropological department of UCL.

The WHMM was operated on the belief that the world could be known, understood and replicated through material objects, with the ultimate goal of historical and material completeness. Social progress could be ‘read’ from the material culture, the collection providing objectifications of authoritative knowledge. Forde also initiated his own classification system for the UCL collection, reflecting his interest in primitive technologies. Focusing on the networks of influential human actors who employed the various classification systems is one method of analysis. The challenge of this project is to focus on the object and on relationships between objects, people, aspirations, futures and distances. For example, staff reports at the WHMM note their need to rearrange entire classes and systems as new objects were acquired, as well as their difficulties in knowing, for example, ‘what is a weapon and what is a tool’.

The museum is often framed as a site of classifying and ordering of knowledge, ideology and disciplining of the public. How do museum classification systems impact on the value and meaning of objects? How can an account be constructed which prioritizes the material character of the museum and its objects? What role can ethnography museums play in anthropology? In this project, the creation of a new database and the research being conducted around on the objects attempts to address these questions. In doing so, it is hoped the teaching collection will further ignite student interests and projects.

February 10, 2008

Visibility and disability

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Publicity still for the Universal Kitchen (see link below)

Faye Ginsburg, NYU, has been working on issues related to disability and its public presence as a scholar (currently on a project funded by the Spencer Foundation with Rayna Rapp entitled Cultural Innovations and Learning Disabilities) and as a parent activist (Vice President of the Familial Dysautonomia Foundation). Both projects inevitably lead to questions about the built environment and accessibility, which fall under the rubric of Universal Design, an idea that goes back to the rehabilitative needs of WW II vets, although the term first came into use in the 1980s as "the design of products and environments to be usable to the greatest extent possible by people of all ages and abilities." Later, barrier-free movement influenced legislation that removed physical barriers in the environment.

This is a helpful digital exhibit about its origins:
http://www.hagley.org/univdesignexhibit/index.php?page=Harrison

Here is the link to a video about Faye's daughter, Samantha Myers who has become an active media presence advocating awareness about the Jewish genetic disease Familial Dysautonomia. The video was made by Faye's niece and underscores the profound importance of kinship in the embrace or denial of disability (in this case the former).
http://youtube.com/watch?v=XaI84_ANroQ

Samantha also has a blog in which she records her everyday experiences in a variety of different media:
http://samanthamyers.typepad.com/samantha_myers/

More on Universal Design, from Wikipedia:

Universal design is a relatively new paradigm that emerged from "barrier-free" or "accessible design" and "assistive technology."[1] Barrier free design and assistive technology provide a level of accessibility for people with disabilities but they also often result in separate and stigmatizing solutions, for example, a ramp that leads to a different entry to a building than a main stairway. Universal design strives to be a broad-spectrum solution that helps everyone, not just people with disabilities. Moreover, it recognizes the importance of how things look. For example, while built up handles are a way to make utensils more usable for people with gripping limitations, some companies introduced larger, easy to grip and attractive handles as feature of mass produced utensils. They appeal to a wide range of consumers
As life expectancy rises and modern medicine has increased the survival rate of those with significant injuries, illnesses and birth defects, there is a growing interest in universal design. There are many industries in which universal design is having strong market penetration but there are many others in which it has not yet been adopted to any great extent.
Universal design is a part of everyday living and is all around us. The "undo" command in most software products is a good example. Color-contrast dish ware with steep sides that assist those with visual problems as well as those with dexterity problems are another. Additional examples include cabinets with pull-out shelves, kitchen counters at several heights to accommodate different tasks and postures and low-floor buses that kneel and are equipped with ramps rather than lifts.

January 25, 2008

Objects That Look

Michael Atkins, MA Visual Anthropology, University of Manchester

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Despite police ‘crackdowns’ and the increasing availability of willing sexual partners online, the canal remains popular with men seeking anonymous and impersonal encounters with other men. During my fieldwork I employed a combination of ethnographic voyeurism and online ethnography to gain an insight into this capricious and difficult to access group. Sketch enabled me to place the witnessed body into a photograph of the empty site, avoiding the ethical, legal and practical complications of recording participants’ identities during ‘the act’. The downside of the technique was that ultimately the other becomes my creation in the collages. However this feels a more honest representation of my experiences and the men’s objectification of each other when cruising.

Participants create cruising grounds in environments most able to accommodate, perpetuate and protect their ambiguity. The cruiser negotiates the encounter with their body; its language and location. To function as a cruising ground a site must enable men to see each other, yet provide shelter for the sexual act from the social gaze. Cruising is an art of bodily and architectural recognition, every movement; placement, used condom and architectural feature contribute to its negotiation. I wanted to show how darkness, obstruction, ambiguous physical performance and scene selection contain the sexual act in a semi-physical yet imagined private space. When social discourse is undesirable, desire must be communicated by the body and its choice of location.

The exclusion of the other’s and my voice from the social exchange made conventional procedures and permissions difficult and in some cases impossible. Although particularly pronounced in my research, I believe this is a dilemma in most anthropological study. Social research always involves an element of deception (Mitchell 1993), even where consent forms can be obtained and research agendas explained, it is naive to assume the participant can appreciate the range of potential implications of being involved.

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Despite explanation of my research to many participants, I am unavoidably involved in the embodied communication exchange before permission can be obtained from the potential informant. The anthropologist’s body is part of the social world being studied, as such they are afforded information and access that the status of social player grants. Anthropological dialogue is arguably made possible through the investment of the other in us as part of their social world.

References
Afonso, A, I (2004). New Graphics for old Stories: representation of local memories through drawings. in Pink, Kurti & Alfonso (eds) Working Images: Visual Research and Representation in Ethnography. London:Routedge

Lenza, M (2004). Controversies surrounding Laud Humphreys’ Tearoom Trade: An Unsettling example of politics and power in methodological critiques. In International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy Vol 24 No3,4,5 pp. 20-31

Mitchell, R (1993). Secrecy and Fieldwork. Newbury Park: Sage

Warwick, D,P (1973). Tea Room Trade: Means and Ends in Social Research. The Hastings centre Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1. pp. 27-38

January 15, 2008

Putting Together Memories and Fantasies: The Phenomenon of Dolls’ Houses and Women in their Second Childhood

Hyun-Jung Oh, MA Material and Visual Culture, UCL

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Over the past three decades adult interest in dolls’ houses has been renewed, starting in America and then spreading to Europe, especially Britain. My dissertation examined the relationship between dolls’ houses and elderly women who enjoy them and what this phenomenon says about western culture. Extensive fieldwork based on observations and interviews was carried out in many places where dolls’ houses were found, such as dolls' house fairs, toyshops, museums, a stately home and in particular, internet communities to keep up with the growing tendency for the Internet to be a site for this hobby. A wide range of publications, such as monthly magazines, instruction books, mail-order catalogues and the general history of dolls’ houses and miniatures were analysed.

Originating in the sixteenth century mercantile region of Southern Germany, dolls’ houses flourished in the Netherlands, England and America in line with the development of modern capitalism over four centuries. As well-wrought replicas give aesthetic delight, originally dolls’ houses and miniatures contributed to the Cabinet of Curiosities. In the developmental era of modern capitalism, dolls’ houses and miniatures played a role in satisfying emerging bourgeois desire to show off their contemporary wealth and taste in the form of the replica of real houses and households. In the Victorian period with the discovery of childhood as a category, dolls’ houses were actively utilized as didactic medium for young girls as a preview to their future housewifery.

The contemporary dolls’ house scene is clearly divided into opposite ends of the life-cycle spectrum, that is, aimed at either at young children or at elderly women. While children’s dolls’ houses are provided in a complete set made of sturdy materials with a crude structure and vivid colours, adult version of dolls’ houses are an on-going project of collecting and making exquisite miniature pieces on a particular theme developed by owners’ own creativity. However, if the range of dolls’ houses can be extended to include simulation computer games, then teenage girls could still be said to be enjoying dolls’ houses. The SIMS, arguably the world’s bestselling game, can be seen as a virtual dolls' house that model human figures in their built environments, including houses, neighborhoods, and universities within sets of scenarios. The aim of Will Wright, the creator of the SIMS software was to make “a dolls' house come to life”. Given the Marsall MacLuhan’s famous phrase “the medium is the message”, the comparison between the age groups and media of dolls’ houses is well worth scholarly attention.

Stewart (1993: 68) locates a rise in the production of miniature furniture at the same time that antique furniture is being reproduced in mass and readily available form. Renewed interest in dolls’ house can be seen in the growing social obsession with antiquity and heritage since the 1970s onwards. The geographer Lowenthal (1996: 5) claims such phenomenon to be a “cult of nostalgia” with heritage in Britain a reflection of “nostalgia for imperial self-esteem and other bygone benisons”. The isolation of self from family and even of self from one’s former selves are engendered by the modern aspects of life, such as increasing longevity, family dissolution, the loss of familiar surroundings, quickened obsolescence and a growing fear of technology (Lowenthal 1996: 6). Thus, women in their later life are likely to objectify their memory or imagination of childhood or ancestry, such that Tudor, Victorian or 1940s styles are favoured. Stewart (1993: 69) notes that the miniature is linked to nostalgic versions of childhood and history. Mrs D, 74-year-old informant said: “Victorians had so much in their houses so cluttered up. Walls were covered in pictures. So they are quite interesting. There have been a lot of changes. I don’t like to do very modern ones”. Mrs C, 76-year-old widow said: “Not very interested in modern houses. They don’t have the lovely old things old people used to have”. She added: “There is just, when you get old you want something, you’re going back to childhood again, that’s what it is, that’s the real thing.”

Today’s hobbyists show diverse patterns in engaging with dolls’ houses as collectors, makers or players. While some wealthy people are collecting expensive miniature pieces, others are making them by employing their lifetimes’ craft skills memorized in their hands. However, the underlying premise of hobbyists of different categories is the activity of putting together an idyllic residential scene comprising a number of objects. In old-fashioned objects older women feel the warmth of the past, contrary to the coldness of contemporary things. Given most elderly women start dolls’ houses when they finish rearing their children and live apart from them, the warmth of home is well presented in the presence of dolls and objects conjuring up the sense of interactivity. The dolls’ house is a miniaturization of domesticity. Women who have accumulated taste, skills and knowledge on homebuilding can employ their lifetime’s accumulation in the miniaturization of domesticity. As children play with toy cars, toy tea sets according to their body size, some old people who are finding it increasingly difficult to deal physically with the actual sized world possibly satisfy their desire to interact a diminished artefactual world. Mrs D comments on the difference between decorating a real house and a dolls’ house: “SIZE. You don’t have to climb up the ladder. You can do it on the table”. The love of homebuilding is injected into making the miniature house, ‘something that’s not very exerting’.

The fact that dolls’ houses still have strong associations with children’s playthings may hurt women’s pride and joy in their hobby. However, there are huge difference between children’ dolls’ houses and grown-ups. While children’s dolls’ houses are made of sturdy material with crude structure and vivid colours, adult versions of dolls’ houses are exquisite and fragile. Thus, the dealing with miniatures requires great attention to the objects and consequently intensive awareness of their bodily movement, as one informant says: “You have to use tweezers to pick them up, things like that. You close the door, calm down, precision is of the most important thing”. This solitary patience in miniaturizing the world brings peace to fingers and thus souls become bathed in peace (Bachelard 1994: 159). This leads people to lose themselves in an intimate make-believe world offering a therapeutic refuge. Bachelard (Ibid: 161) observes the escapist attribute of the miniature noting that “To have experienced miniatures sincerely detaches me from the surrounding world, and helps me to resist the dissolution of the surrounding atmosphere”. Ageing is often accompanied by the sadness of human destiny, including deaths and illnesses. So older people regain a sense of control over the world of objects which are manipulatable and protected from inexorable human destiny. In general terms this research highlights the neglect of the material culture of the elderly, despite their becoming an increasingly important segment of the population.

References

Bachelard, G. (1994), The Poetics of Space, Boston: Beacon Press.
Lowenthal, D. (1996), The Heritage Crusade, London: Viking.
Stewart, S. (1993), On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

January 3, 2008

Loaded out - teaching through museums and material culture

Haidy Geismar, NYU

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I thought I would write a brief note about the class that I have just finished teaching this semester, which drew on the methods and practices of museum work and material culture studies to extend the intellectual practice of NYU graduate students not just within the university, but outwards within New York City.

Entitled “Making a Museum: Materializing Regimes of Value with the New York Department of Sanitation”,the class drew together Museum Studies students alongside students from the Draper Program (an interdisciplinary MA program at NYU) and was Co-taught between myself and Robin Nagle, Director of the Draper Program and Anthropologist-in-residence at the New York Department of Sanitation.

The class worked closely with the DSNY and with NYU Faculty Technology Services and had a number of guest speakers from DSNY artist in residence Mierel Laderman Ukeles talking about work with the department as a contemporary artist and social activist to Barbara Kirschenblatt Gimblett describing the formation of the new Museum of Polish Jews in Poland. The aim of the class was to develop a series of materials drawn from archival and contemporary research into the history and importance of the DSNY that would provide a blueprint for the formation of a DSNY museum.

In class we looked at the history of the DSNY, the cultural landscape of waste that has underpinned the development of NYC, the ways in which material culture passes through different registers of meaning and value within this context explicitly through the lens of working to establish a prototype for a future DSNY museum. Unlike the other public services of Police, Fire and Transit Authorities in NYC, the DSNY does not have its own museum. Its archive lies in a series of mouldy cardboard boxes, its artifactual history is scattered in the form of personal possessions and a few odd bits and pieces saved around DSNY facilities. Part of this lack of reification is due to the negative values associated with the job – DSNY workers, San Men, are valued by the public in relation to the material that they work with – being called “Garbage men” is also internalised by many of the people on the job who refer to their own work as a rubbish job. The class project therefore drew on the dual nature of collections based research to a). preserve and represent complicated histories and labour practices in material form and b) to use object based research as a strategy to influence the ways in which ideas around these concepts were formed and c) to use the idea of a new museum for the DSNY as a starting point for social activism – to not only teach the public more about the job, about waste management and the cultural landscape of trash, but to publicly integrate the DSNY into the fabric of the city in a representational as well as practical way. This work should not need to be done, as we depend more on a daily basis upon Sanitation workers than on almost any other public service. However it became glaringly apparent that there was a real need for the DSNY to have some kind of institutional and representational space, and to have a series of valued collections of historical and contemporary material that could contribute to this shift in valuation.

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Image from our archive (http://archive.nyu.edu). The archive is currently password protected but will be made open shortly. Here however you can see the digital repository that NYU has been developing.

As a class, over the course of this semester we have created a digital archive, working with the digital repository structure being developed for faculty use at NYU. Students mined archival material culled from the DSNY, scanned it and catalogued it. We developed collaboratively a series of key words and discussed how we should frame this material. Students also interviewed members from across different divisions of the DSNY and uploaded their oral histories to the same archive. They conducted their own ethnographic research into the contemporary landscape of garbage in the city, attending Freegan tours of the city, documenting litter in their neighbourhoods and keeping diaries of mongo – the things left on the street for hungry scavengers to recycle.

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The 'Garbage Mark' left on the street even once the garbage has been collected - permanently marking the city. Photograph taken by Casey Lynn as part of an assignment to do a contemporary ethnography of trash in NYC.

The archive was based on DSpace, an open source database programmed in Dublin core, but not specifically designed for museums. Alongside this formal archive, we ran a class weblog which we used as a commentary on our work in class. Collectively we used the blog to devise key word lists that we then incorporated into the archive, we shared media clips, articles, and have created a rich subsidiary repository of popular culture, our own research and writing and discussion. The blog is a less formal digital space that reflects the sociality of the class. For instance, the blog we also developed a looser framework of tagging which the archive did not permit, to open up our more formal list of key words. We used the blog to discuss issues of copyright and fair use, and to talk about the limitations of the different fields in the archive on how we were framing and presenting our newly created digital objects. Between these two digital forums we have created a rich resource of commentary surrounding a newly formed collection that we hope that the DSNY will carry forward and use as a prototype catalogue for its new museum in the future.

In this way, both blog and archive were tools in the imagination of what a museum both is and could be.

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Finally we drew back from both blog and archive to create an exhibition which opened on Wednesday 12 December to resounding success. Held at the DSNY's Derelict Vehicles Office (they are the people responsible for all the abandoned cars and wrecks in the city) we scavenged objects to recreate an old-school style locker rooms, we took objects from the basement of the DSNY headquarters and from people's offices, displayed our archive and the archival collections, created a cd from the oral histories we had been discussing and had a soundscape evoking the gathering of trash in the city. We will continue in another exhibition venue at NYU next year.

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Installing the 'locker room' using lockers already in the DSNY space

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DSNY pipers at the opening

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Commissioner Doherty speaking at the opening

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The class after everyone left!
the class has used the tools of conventional museum collection, preservation and research to interrogate the framework in which the DSNY has been conventionally understood and to develop a voice for the department which we hope will resonate both internally and throughout the city. It was rewarding for all of us to see the Commissioner of Sanitation respond so emotionally to the opening of the exhibition (he first worked out of the office in which the exhibition was held) and to hear representatives from the pipe and drum band play. It was obvious that this project has achieved a level of recognition for the issues that the Department faces and extended our practice outside of the conventional boundaries of museum and university walls (see press coverage below):

http://ny.metro.us/metro/local/article/A_museum_for_city_sanitation/11066.html


http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/12/13/garbage-in-museum-out/?ex=1198213200&en=1a34c86fab799fe1&ei=5070&emc=eta1


WE would love to hear from anyone who has used this kind of investigation into materiality as a key tool in teaching...

December 24, 2007

Museums Get the Best Gifts

Marcus Moore, School of Visual & Material Culture, Massey Univ.


"Practically everything that [Marcel] Duchamp made has been treasured by someone - the losses are those things he happened not to give away" - Richard Hamilton 1965.


In 1983 Mrs. Betty and Judge Julius Isaacs of New York City bequeath a substantial collection to the National Art Gallery of New Zealand, Wellington - the twin precursor with the Dominion Museum to what is now Te Papa Tongarewa, the National Museum of New Zealand. This donation consisted of over 200 artworks, publications, and articles. As characterised by Betty Isaacs (born in Tasmania, Australia and a resident of New Zealand between 1896 and 1913) the collection is predominantly an eclectic range of over 80 of her sculptures and 45 amateur paintings by her husband Julius Isaacs. The bequest also contains a small grouping of artworks by the American artist Larry Rivers; and works by two important New Zealand expatriates Frances Hodgkins (NZ/London) and Billy Apple (NZ/London/New York).

There are equally three pieces by Marcel Duchamp which are the most important items in the gifting of this bequest. Two of the works were themselves signed 'gifts' by Duchamp to the Issacs. The entire bequest was accepted on the basis that his articles were included as well as the biographical association Betty Isaacs had with New Zealand. This was a clear sign of the recognition of Duchamp’s significance and the desire to acquire such works for the National collection. Given the comparative small scale of Duchamp's oeuvre and since unique works by him were rarely available or in art market circles, this would prove to be an astute and canny move (Naumann 2003). Such rarity has caused consternation for those wishing to collect works by the artist who has eclipsed the contributions of many other 20th Century figures in the history of contemporary art.

Of the various artefacts by Duchamp in the bequest, the following have been recorded as distinctly separate pieces: BETTY waistcoat (1961, New York) (Fig.1); The Box in a Valise (Edition D 1961, Paris); and The Chess Players (copperplate etching, artist’s proof, 1965, New York). In addition, four 1st edition publications on Marcel Duchamp signed with personal dedications accompany the works.

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Fig.1: Esquisse of Duchamp's BETTY waistcoat by M. Moore, 2007


The initial offer of the estate’s collection was sent by L. David Clark (representative executor) to the Secretary of the Art Galleries and Museums Association of New Zealand (AGMANZ) on 13 November 1980. Luit Bieringa, who was the vice-president of AGMANZ and director of the National Art Gallery, does not recollect the broad possible scope of benefactors for the bequest. Bieringa’s opportunity to view objects, works and books in the estate became the opportunity “to not miss out on something unique” making sure that “the sequence from Betty Isaacs and the Judge Julius Isaacs bequest to the National Gallery was a natural one” (pers. comm. 2005).

It was Bieringa who secured the collection for New Zealand. With AGMANZ support, Bieringa entered into a protracted process of disposition and scheduled a meeting with Paul F. Feilzer, the Senior Trust Officer of Chemical Bank Corporation, for February 8 and 9 1981 in New York, when he viewed selected works in the bequest. The collection of artworks and other related items in the Isaacs estate had been appraised by William Doyle Galleries, Inc., New York, who appraised (in U.S. dollars) the Betty Waistcoat at $20,000; the Chess Players at $2,000 and the Box in a Valise at $3,000. The Isaacs' bequest was confirmed via telegram to Luit Bieringa on June 6, 1981 from the Chemical Bank Corporation and the Board of Trustees of the National Art Gallery voted unanimously to approve acquisition on June 11, 1981. Although this approval was passed in June 1981, and Bieringa personally signed the receipt and release of the bequest in New York on November 9, 1981, it took until February 1983 before the works were formally accessioned into the National collection.

Delays are not an uncommon occurrence a propos a peripheral location. The news of obtaining the bequest originally in June 1981 was in fact new news again by the time of its actual arrival in Wellington and its formal acquisition in 1983. The delay was due to the distance the freighted works had to travel across the Pacific Ocean (and also due in part to the large size of the entire bequest). The total freight was comparatively expensive (estimated at $5,700 US dollars), yet approval of the bequest was conditional on National Art Gallery’s meeting associated costs for its climate-controlled freight to New Zealand. The full inventory of the Isaacs' collection was shipped by Day & Meyer, Murray & Young Corp. — Packers, Shippers and Movers of High Grade Household Effects and Art Objects, and departed New York on the Malmros Monsoon on November 23, 1981, arriving in New Zealand on December 18, 1981 through Auckland. The shipment reached its final destination in February 1982. It took another full year for formal acquisition processes to be completed, but, finally these Duchampian gifts had arrived in New Zealand.

Bieringa, delighted by the acquisition of Duchamp’s works, wrote to David Clark, the representative executor of the estate in 1981:

“As a young country New Zealand cannot, apart from its superb indigenous cultural assets, boast of rich assets reflecting the art historical developments of the Western world. As such several of the works contained in the Isaacs Estate, in particular the Duchamp items, will have a significant impact with the art museum collections in New Zealand, whereas their retention in Europe and America will only marginally affect the stature of any significant collection. Given the limited financial resources of our museums the impact of the Isaacs collection will be substantial”.

While the bequest was somewhat serendipitous, Bieringa exhibited a presence of mind in securing a small yet significant collection of Duchampian art and articles for the National Art Gallery, especially at a time contemporaneous to a wider desire in collecting works by Duchamp. The bequest belongs to a limited transfer of his works to international museum collections after the artist’s death. Museums and curators arrived at the significance of Duchamp’s work much later than that of other 1960’s New York based artists, and so a period of institutional interest in Duchamp’s work grew belatedly (Neumann 1999). Within a period in which very few Duchamp works might have actually been purchased or exchanged, the National Art Gallery of New Zealand succeeded in obtaining a small but unique collection.

Bieringa’s enthusiasm for the transaction made in 1983 has not been sustained by the institution that had facilitated the bequest. Indeed, The Box in a Valise, documented on its acquisition, has been shown on two occasions: at the Auckland Art Gallery, for the exhibition ‘Chance and Change’ in 1985, and more recently in 2003 at the Te Papa Museum, in ‘Past Presents’, an exhibition of works focusing on gifts to the collection (Fig.2). The BETTY waistcoat and The Chess Players were also documented upon their acquisition, but Te Papa Museum art catalogue files have not recorded any further movement of these items for exhibition, either within the institution or beyond. In addition, the 80 sculptural works by Betty Isaacs have never had any comprehensive exhibition and remain in their brown cardboard boxes in storage. Duchamp’s works have never formed a collective basis for any exhibition in New Zealand, though such an exhibition is long overdue. Therefore, akin to one of Duchamp’s time based pleasures (from his delayed work on the Large Glass), these three Duchamp works have, as in that figure of speech, gathered dust.

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Fig.2: Esquisse of Duchamp's Boîte-en-valise by M. Moore, 2007


Continue reading "Museums Get the Best Gifts" »

December 14, 2007

Market Mythology and the Cult of El Diego

Alan Bradshaw, University of Exeter

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Whilst the existence of a Church of Maradona seems bizarre, the cult of retired Argentine footballer, Diego Maradona, continues to grow. Maradona has profited from the marketing opportunities; producing such material relics as a t-shirt which has a picture of a football (described as the bible), a stadium (the church), the fans (the congregation) and finally himself – the God! Another shows Maradona rising majestically for his iconic 'Hand of God' goal with the inscription; 'The Hand of God is the single piece of indisputable evidence proving the existence of God'. In advertisements for his popular TV talk-show, Maradona is shown leaping over the England goalkeeper lifted by angelic wings (see here). The goal has been immortalized by the song La Mano de Dios, (the Hand of God) which, apart from being his show's theme song, is a major hit throughout Latin America. Beyond celebrity status, Maradona is a living case of total iconicity (an Oxford University Union declared him to be the Master Inspirer of Dreams in 1995) and an attraction of adulation ranging from the ironic to the profound. Considering this adulation allows for a demonstration of how football as mass consumer spectacle can be an extraordinary site for mass God-like myth-making and how these mythologies are reproduced through material culture.

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Continue reading "Market Mythology and the Cult of El Diego" »

November 27, 2007

THE GLOBAL DENIM PROJECT

Daniel Miller, UCL

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Please do visit www.ucl.ac.uk/global-denim-project This is the web address of a scheme designed to bring together what we hope will be an increasing number of projects on the topic of denim. The project is being announced in a paper called A Manifesto for the Study of Denim by Daniel Miller and Sophie Woodward which is being published in the next issue of the Journal of Social Anthropology. The abstract of the paper follows:-

This paper considers the challenge to anthropology represented by a topic such as global denim. Using the phrase ‘blindingly obvious’ it considers the problems posed by objects that have become ubiquitous. While there are historical narratives about the origins, history and spread of denim, these leave open the issue of how we make compatible the ethnographic study of specific regional appropriations of denim and its global presence in a manner that is distinctly anthropological. Ethnographies of blue jeans in Brazil and England are provided as examples. These suggest the need to understand the relationship between three observations: its global presence, the phenomenon of distressing and its relationship to anxiety in the selection of clothes. As a manifesto, this paper argues for a global academic response that engages with denim from the global commodity chain through to the specificity of local accounts of denim wearing. Ultimately this can provide the basis for an anthropological engagement with global modernity.

One of the main arguments in this paper is that at least occasionally it would be helpful if social anthropology tried to be social. Instead of everyone picking topics on the basis that no one was studying the same topic, perhaps we could occasionally pick topics because many people were agreeing to study the same thing in different ways over the same period. The Global Denim Project is an attempt to persuade as many academics as possible to consider studying denim over the next five years. Hopefully these will include historians, people concerned with the economics of the industry, and the cosmological significance it represents as a tension between global ubiquity and the personalisation of distressing. Miller and Woodward have now begun an ethnography of denim wearing in three streets in North London. Other projects range from a study of denim, sexuality and the body in Italy, to a study of trashed denim shoddy and its uses in recycling (until recently a third of US dollar bills were denim shoddy). Other proposals include denim in China, Japan and Korea, a study of how blue jeans record the movements of the body in their wear, and a proposal to work on the pressures towards ethical trade in denim in Turkey and Brazil. Brief outlines may be found on the global denim site. The point is that this is a global phenomenon and would be much better understood through collaboration between many projects. Think open-source academia. So if anyone out there would like to consider working on any aspect of denim over the next five years, a) go for it b) please contact me at d.miller@ucl.ac.uk and send something for the global denim project. Similarly if you know of anyone working on this topic please ask them to get in touch with d.miller@ucl.ac.uk

November 24, 2007

Envisioning Normality

Jana Carrey, MA Visual Anthropology, University of Manchester

The thing about camp is that no matter who you may be back in the valley you can start over here; you can take off your mask and try out different ways of dealing with other people. Because people here won't judge you, you can decide what kind of person you want to be.”*

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“Envisioning Normality” looks at how youth with serious illnesses, chronic disorders and disabilities maintain a sense of normality in their life and how they seek to define their identity in the face of continual life disruption and physical limitation. Marrying a documentary realist style with participant observation-based ethnography, this project looks at the embodied illness experience from an adolescent and childhood perspective. This work explores how positive self-image and identity reconstruction are encouraged by participating in the embodied and collective social experience of summer camp in rural, upstate New York.

Taken from a larger ethnographic project, the selected images focus specifically on how campers “perform normality” to fit culturally prescribed roles in relation to their own bodily perception and self-image. Childhood is a series of performances for a variety of audiences and through exploring different roles, children learn who they are and want to be. This view of childhood performance goes beyond the idea of actors masking another reality and instead looks at performance as a way to define personal narrative. Through the embodied performance of normality, campers can transform the meanings attached to their illness whilst reconstructing a more positive body and self-image.

This project also involves the use of photography as a collaborative and therapeutic tool through which children can reflect upon themselves and how their experiences at camp impact their developing sense of self. Campers were taught to use digital cameras and through a series of reflexive exercises explored topics ranging from nature photography to selfportraiture.

For more information on the ethnographer/photographer or this project please see the website http://janacarrey.scarrey.com/jana.htm and reference the accompanying book under Visual Anthropology Work, Envisioning Normality: The Ethnographic Photographic Essay.

* Anonymous quote taken from “Tillery, Randal K. 1992. Touring Arcadia: Elements of discursive
simulation and cultural struggle at a children’s summer camp. In Cultural Anthropology 7 (3): 374-
388.”

Continue reading "Envisioning Normality" »

November 18, 2007

THIS IS…. WARCRAFT! Or: How to Stop Worrying and Abandon Abstruse Notions of ‘Cyberspace’

Efe Levant, MA Material and Visual Culture student, UCL

The Question of ‘online identity’ and/or ‘cyberspace’ is increasingly gaining importance with the ever-increasing popularity of online games like Second life and World of Warcraft (WoW). An increasing amount of concern and interest is focusing on the supposed addictive qualities of the software and the emergence of economic interactions involving the exchange of online goods with real money. A specialized industry is steadily developing to cater for the demands of MMO players (Massively Multiplayer Online). These industries are known amongst players as ‘gold farms’; a great deal of which consists of workshops in China, where Chinese gold farmers perform repetitive tasks to gather/farm in-game currency (known as gold or simply g).

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The increasing amount of time spent by players in ‘virtual spaces’ like World of Warcraft has not failed to reach the attention of a diverse range of interest groups. A fruitful analytical categorisation, in terms of illustrating the historical continuity of the controversy surrounding artificial spaces can be extracted from the debate between Boyle and Hobbes regarding the air-pump. The problem is whether manufactured, synthetic spaces have experimental legitimacy to potentially alter human existence. In a paper called “Just like IRL: Play, Spatiality and sociality in Online Fantasy Games.” I have identified the two positions in the controversy as Boylean and Hobbesian. The Boylean position is the suggestion that online spaces provide unique situations that allow possibilities for experimenting with various aspects of human existence such as: identity, literature and economy. Economist Edward Castronova argues that economies in synthetic worlds can be considered as a ‘corporate Petri-dish’ as they provide the opportunity to experiment not only with new forms of organisational technologies but also with the conventional ethical paradigms that condition the study of economics. However fieldwork results can ascertain that virtual economies function too much like the unpredictable ‘real’ economies (of which they essentially a part of) to be able to enjoy the degree of control a natural scientist might enjoy in a laboratory or a Petri dish. For instance the ultimate problem of inequality is often brought up in discussions between players. The most common source of agitation amongst the players is what is known as the nerf debate. When a specific class (mage, hunter, warrior etc…) gets nerfed (reduced in power) the players who play the class take action to lobby for the reversal of the nerf, which mostly consists of whining on the World Wide Web forums. Far from being a hygienic space suitable for controlling experimental variables, the economies of MMOs are just as susceptible to arbitrary factors unpredictable both to the players and the developers of games like World of Warcraft. This view draws a picture of online environments as a cyberian apartness that gives numerous experimental possibilities both to the users and a diverse spectrum of scholars ranging from economists to medical scientists. Although it is evident that online games may provide food for thought for a wide range of intellectual pursuits, approaching these spaces as mere illustrations to pre-existing models and paradigms will not do justice to the activities carried out inside them. Ethnographic study is in a unique position to reveal the significance of these quotidian activities and correct misconceptions that detach these spaces from the ordinary condition of human existence with labels like ‘cyberspace’ or ‘virtual community’.

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The Hobbesian view stands in opposition to the Boylean willingness to seek experimental opportunities in ‘virtual’ spaces. This position claims that online games are dangerous and addictive. Some view such recreational uses of the Internet as time consuming and unproductive others suggest that video games are killing simulators and encourage violent behaviour. This approach generally uses hypodermic metaphors to illustrate how video games induce a ‘permanent state of arousal’ and seduce the players into an illusion of control. The argument echoes Hobbes’ objection to the laboratory space set up by Boyle, to be specific the Hobbesian attitude towards artificial spaces involves the denouncement of such environments as illegitimate. In Hobbes’ case the laboratory is a challenge to the Leviathan/state, embodied in the person of the sovereign. The contemporary case against MMOs replaces Hobbes’ monarchic symbolisms with liberal values like autonomy and entrepreneurship, hence it should be no surprise that an overwhelming majority of this literature comes from the field of clinical psychology, which as noted by Nikolas Rose has a significant tendency for disciplining difference in the name of stability. Hence the Hobbesian interpretation views spaces like World of Warcraft as deeply subversive to legitimate values and the structures of authority attached to them. The policy implications entailed by this approach expectably involves the ‘treatment’ of what is considered to be an‘epidemic’ in order to subdue these spaces to the authority of the Leviathan. Though there is certainly policy to be made in this field these policies need to bear in mind that online communities have not suddenly descended from outer space but are deeply embedded in ‘real’ social relationships.

Continue reading "THIS IS…. WARCRAFT! Or: How to Stop Worrying and Abandon Abstruse Notions of ‘Cyberspace’" »

November 13, 2007

Material Culture and Surveillance in British Society

Carys Banks, MA Material and Visual Culture, UCL

My dissertation has investigated surveillance and security systems and what their implementation indicates about perceived risks and fears in British society. My analysis focuses on a commercial communications company: C3 who are suppliers of a security service ‘LookOut Call’. This service is specifically designed to provide security for lone or mobile workers. I have also conducted fieldwork research within CCTV (close circuit television) control rooms run by Governmental bodies.

My research indicates that societal notions of risk and fear are pivotal to perceptions and usage of surveillance and security within modern society. Consumption of surveillance and security systems is also a consumption of societal conventions of perceived risk and risk management. This has had consequences for notions of personal and social responsibility in society.

The ‘LookOut Call’ security technology as a risk management device is indicative of how surveillance and security are constitutive of people’s responsibility. Investing in and consuming security devices allow people to take their own precautionary measures. With the aid of technology, they are thus taking on the responsibility for their own safety in the face of perceived crime. ‘LookOut Call’ can be viewed as a “therapeutic” or ‘life style’ choice. Consuming the security is a means by which the individual partakes in “introspection” and “management” (Rose, 1996:162) of plans and goals in their life. Much like other forms of “therapeutics” the ‘LookOut Call’ service can be ‘tailor made’ to meet individual needs. It is “imbued with a ‘personal’ meaning” (1996:162) so as to highlight what kind of person is participating in the consumption of this technology device.

As regards security within governmental bodies and CCTV operating, it appears there is a real need for collaborative legislation. The huge amounts of funding that is being driven into CCTV equipment and employment do not automatically mean that the systems are going to be effective. Cameras are now an integral part of all citizens’ daily activities in public spaces. Essentially they are perceived as a good thing by my informants, and they can be used very effectively in court proceedings. Nevertheless, organised strategies and research must be conducted in order for the control room environment to become as worth while as advocators of CCTV proclaim it is. At present this form of visual technology possesses too many flaws and areas whereby incorrect and unethical use can take place. The visual will, it seems, always be prominent in human understanding and objectification. We just have to make sure we do not lose sight of why people feel the need to be watched.

October 26, 2007

Plan B for a Nuclear Reactor: After Production Comes Preservation

Paul Williams, Museum Studies, New York University

1. Background

Of the large-scale heritage preservation efforts taking place across the world, the B Reactor is not the easiest sell. Built in just 11 months during World War II, it was the world’s first production-scale nuclear reactor. It provided the source of plutonium for the very first “Trinity” test in the New Mexico desert, for the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki, and tritium for the first hydrogen bomb. The Hanford complex was instigated in 1943 when a judge confiscated a 1,500 square kilometer area in the state of Washington. Residents received some money, no explanation, and 30 days to move. A construction camp of 50,000 workers then replaced them almost immediately. Of the nine reactors at Hanford, the B Reactor, which ceased operating in 1968, is the last available for consideration for preservation by the National Park Service as a museum. The other eight decommissioned reactors have been fenced off and “cocooned” while radiation in their cores slowly decays. A final decision on the B Reactor, which has received several national awards as a nuclear and engineering landmark, is not expected for several years.

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Figure 1. B Reactor shortly after construction

Approached from a distance, the B Reactor emerges from the sagebrush steppes like a sinister grey hulk. Once inside, it is difficult not to marvel at the building, at least on an engineering level: its reactor core is a five storey high, 1,200 ton graphite cylinder, penetrated horizontally by 2,004 aluminum tubes. Two hundred tons of uranium slugs, each the size of rolls of quarters, were inserted into the tubes. When enough slugs were in place, they would form a “critical mass,” which would initiate the uranium’s transformation into plutonium. Cooling the reactor core required water pumped from the Columbia at the rate of 75,000 gallons per minute. Inside the windowless fortress, the sheer industrial weight of the building feels somewhat menacing. At the same time, there is an uncanny relation between the monumental technical achievement that the building represents – which remains contemporary in consequence – and the antiquated analog dials, gauges, switches, and typewriters within it. Visitors see, for instance, the drafting table where physics Nobel laureate Enrico Fermi worked for three straight days to get the reactor up to speed, using nothing but a slide rule and graph paper.

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Figure 2. Workers at the reactor wall

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October 24, 2007

They called me Mayer July

I'ld like to draw your attention to a project which has just come to fruition by Barbara Kirschenblatt Gimblett: the publication of the book, They called me Mayer July, and opening of the exhibition of the same name.

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"The only Jew in the volunteer fire brigade."

Barbara's father, Mayer Kirschenblatt taught himself to paint, aged 73, and has created an evocative visual record of his life in Poland before World War Two and his emigration to Canada. Drawing on interviews conducted over decades and in Mayer's own words, the book and exhibition are a visual ethnography of Polish Jewish life, and highlights the redemptive power of art as a medium to not only evoke memory and narrate life histories, but to reconnect to the past and to broader cultural histories.

The project has a website:
http://samanthamyers.typepad.com/theycalledmemayerjuly/

The exhibition will travel from California, to Poland, to Amsterdam and New York City.

BKG discusses the project:
http://samanthamyers.typepad.com/theycalledmemayerjuly/daughters_afterword.html

Mayer Kirschenblatt has also recorded an audio narrative which can be accessed through the website, and for US visitors, by calling a cellphone number
http://samanthamyers.typepad.com/theycalledmemayerjuly/2007/09/listen-to-mayer.html

October 5, 2007

White African Masks: Representing Africa in a Johannesburg Hotel

by April Strickland, New York University and Andy Rotman, Smith College

On a trip to South Africa in 2003, we spent a brief layover in Johannesburg in the lounge of the Airport Sun Inter-Continental Hotel, located just outside of the international terminal. Over coffee and snacks, we joined staff and patrons in watching a South Africa-Scotland rugby match on the lounge’s large television. During halftime we wandered into the main seating area where we came across a wall covered with African masks. The masks were of traditional designs from Kenya, Gabon, and the Congo, but instead of being made of traditional materials, they were made of plaster and painted white.

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photo 1: courtesy of Wilson and Associates

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photo 2: April Stickland, 2003

To learn more about this wall of masks, we spoke with S, the maître d’ of the restaurant. S explained that the designs of the masks were from “traditional cultures” across Africa, so the wall of masks was “like a map of Africa.” Yet these were not “real” masks. They were “fakes” made in a local factory, rendering the map somewhat artificial. Real masks would have been better, S told us, but traditional objects were simply more expensive. They were also more dangerous. Pointing to the curtain of fake porcupine quills hanging from the ceiling, S explained that real porcupine quills were costly and dangerously sharp. Plastic replicas of porcupine quills, he said, offered the same appearance, but they were cheaper and safer. According to S, Africa’s traditional objects and forms were frightening, if not dangerous, to Afrikaners. Real masks would unsettle them, as would traditional African dress. S said that if instead of his headwaiter’s suit and tie he wore his native attire from Malawi, replete with the requisite “big knife,” diners at the restaurant would flee. By contrast, when we asked S what constituted traditional Afrikaner culture, he gestured to the restaurant’s patrons and said, “Drinking in bars. And they have some songs.”

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photo 3: courtesy of Wilson and Associates

Our conversation with S was soon interrupted by the end of halftime, and S once again turned his attention to the rugby match. He had bet on Scotland with another restaurant employee, and he followed the match intently. Though everyone else in the lounge, the mostly black staff and the mostly white patrons, was rooting for South Africa to win, S was rooting for Scotland. S explained that he didn’t ally himself with the predominantly white Springboks, the South African team that for decades was an icon of apartheid. Rugby wasn’t his sport. Soccer was his game. Regardless, Scotland prevailed, and A lost his bet.

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September 28, 2007

The Materiality of Visitor Books: Observations from an Israeli Military Commemo