Located in Kleinbasel close to the Rhine, the Kaskadenkondensator is a place of mediation and experimental, research-and process-based art production with a focus on performance and performative expression. The gallery, founded in 1994, and located on the third floor of the former Sudhaus Warteck Brewery (hence cascade condenser), seeks to develop interactions between artists, theorists and audiences. Eight, maybe, nine or ten 40 litre bags of potting compost lie strewn about the floor of a high-ceilinged white washed hall. Dumped, split (...) open, the soil mixed with iridescent specks of green, blue and red glitter. On the walls hang large black and white photographic images—negative and positive prints barely clean, hardly sharp, scavenged from the world and presented half processed. On a third wall, hangs a framed golden and charcoal surface. Finally, a huge stain of black dye runs down a wall that descends into a sunken quarter of the Kaskadenkondensator gallery space. The results of a collaboration between Oliver Minder and Walter Derungs reflect on themes addressed in the recent Aesthetics in the 21st Century conference held by the department of English, University of Basel. In particular, the joint show questions how an aesthetic experience may be other than a human-world interaction, hinting at the withdrawal and veiling that objects perform, while demanding that different works engage with each other and play out this game under the non-supervisory eyes of a human audience. Things here are becoming—sometimes it’s a movement towards a more complete ontic whole in a projection of finality, other times it’s a dispersal, an atrophy to rather disarrayed entities. Yet, in the moment and place in which the objects are, we take them as here and now. Let’s get to the material of the stuff that Minder and Derungs have assembled. Oliver Minder employs organic materials—potting earth, cuttlefish ink secretion, rice, and insects; yet his works hardly seem natural in the sense of a harmonic relation between material and the form they are constrained into, the objects they are compelled to occupy. For the substrates on, through, or within which these natural materials are mediated are harshly inorganic substances—Plexiglas, safety glass, acrylic resin, boat varnish, spray paint. Minder, thus, generates a conflict within the materiality of his work between two polar opposites—from the human perspective—in the contiguity of materials engaging with each other in a thrown together formation that nonetheless appears to keep the materials and the objects they make in happy accidental relation to each other. Let me expand a little: on the one hand, the things Minder makes query our belief in substance as belonging in a particular domain, an environment suited to precisely that stuff. We are focused on thinking categorically where things belong, both in terms of natural place and natural relations they might extend to each other. Hence, we are driven to think of environment and order. On the other hand, while extracting things from their conventional place and arranging them within awkward constellations that we as observers feel isn’t quite right, Minder manages to persuade the viewer that the materials are nonetheless “doing alright.” So, simultaneous to our awareness of the appropriateness of the world according to our global notions of accord and uniformity, we are forced to accept the local discrepancies of disassociation, inappropriateness and misplacement. The tension between these two vectors generates a vacillation that intensifies Minder’s work. In the Kaskadenkondensator works, then, it is vital to first consider the material of Minder’s works: potting compost—what is it doing here in the first place?—seems to enjoy being “polluted” by sparkly glitter. Glitter has a long history, used in cosmetics by the Egyptians, and in cave paintings, too, earlier made of beetle shells and mica, nowadays glitter is made of plastic cut to minute sizes down to 50 microns. So what’s the point here? Well shiny bits of dust-like material are actually generated from ultra-thin plastic sheets and are normally cut into shapes that fit contiguously on a two-dimensional surface: squares, triangles, hexagons etc. What then appears to be totally random, chaotic decoration, is actually an array of extremely regular identifiable objects. 1 Of course scale has a role to play here. The minuteness of the dimensions means the regularity is beyond our recognition—all we see are the twinkling surfaces of the multi-coloured grains of plastic. In contrast, potting compost, which appears to be unary in its dull unresponsive lumpen disposition, is in fact an amalgam of a variety of organic and inorganic materials: peat, bark, mushroom compost, and sand and perlite, and should perhaps be more proactively exciting to the viewer because of this complexity. Yes; we can (if we care to) identify different textures, different sizes in the mixture of the medium, but I claim that we tend to treat this organic/inorganic assemblage as just a simple substance. Further and crucially important to our consideration here is that the medium is partially contained, but also partially spilling from the split plastic bags in which it is sold in garden centres. That the compost spills out gives it a movement suggesting life; that the bags are cast here and there in a random fashion by Oliver Minder, lying like discarded carcasses, hacked torsos, dismembered bodies, suggests a horrific murder scene, a Tatort. 2 The glitter flourishes in the medium, lies happy and decorative; that is simply what it does, how it is—always already broken, made-for-scattering, designed to be incomplete; the taken-to-be-natural compost, in contrast, cannot rest content but is forced to speak to us metaphorically in its abject overflowing of violence and rupture. While Oliver Minder’s elements in the installation direct our attention to material, Walter Derungs’ works raise questions around seeing and making in photography. There is a simultaneous flicker between the materials and their use in the production of a sense making representation, on the one hand, and on the other the very notion of what is worthy of picturing, framing, representing on the other. Derungs' images are of non-places. Ranging from archaic decaying monster buildings, buildings that have gone far beyond the ravages of a time that we can safely associate with the genteel preservation of a Bernd and Hill Belcher post-industrial decline, to the background “noise” of an urban world that is falling apart, and to which we most of the time seem to pay little attention, and habitually just pass by. In this respect, their non-ness differs somewhat from the conventional association of the term with Marc Augé 3 , where emphasis is on the specifics (if we do care to examine them for their non-placedness) of the spatial or place containment in which movement between multimodal coordinates occurs in supermodern late capitalist post-urban spaces. In other words, we might be in an Augéian non-place and (not) experience—be impervious to—that environment, or we might in Derungs’ manner look out from such a position at the “scenery” around us. I claim scenery, as this is what Derungs seems to do with his partial photography—construct a very purposefully articulated, symmetric, flat world of image. Mostly depopulated, his images construct a space in which the direction of time is uncertain: are these partial structures falling apart, or perhaps terminated in a never-to-be-completed state, or are they a few steps from final completion? Temporal and spatial dimensions figure large in Derungs’ image-making: his world, and perhaps this is in fact the only way for it to be registered photographically, is already image before it is photographed. A key combination of images in this show is a matrix of six black and white negative prints measuring 300 x 215 cm that form the image of a semi-derelict (or is it yet incomplete) church, and adjacent on a perpendicular wall, a single black and white positive print 150 x 250 cm of two bricked-up windows of a late-Victorian industrial building. What are we led to believe that we see here? In the negative print, the conditions of perception 4 are sufficiently reproduced for us to recognise the structure of the building, to distinguish ground and form, to relate some partial elements of narrative, and to recognize symbols such as the alter cross and figure of Christ, a looming crane, a traffic cone, and banks of tiered seating. We piece the image together both from the individual forms which we recognize despite the tonal reversal, and we piece the six prints together as a whole, the matrix of lines between them emphasizing our purview onto the world. While we recognise the forms at work in the image and might possibly relate the negative reversals to other figurations such as Vera Lutter’s camera obscura exposures, we cannot but avoid seeing the partialness of the image in the sponge marks of the developer that was spread by hand across the prints. 5 Derungs’ thus intervenes with our usual conception of photography as the mimetic realist vehicle sine qua non , by exposing the viewer to tonal reversal and incomplete or over developed areas of the print. We thus confront both the idiom of such image making and its raw (chemical) materiality at once in the simultaneity of the recognition of what the image pictures and the recognition that it is in the act of picturing. The church image, taken from the series “BW Negativs 2011,” thus orients us towards how we see things in the world via photographs. The single image of the bricked-up wall presents us with a completely different visuality that relates to a faciality 6 which we cannot easily escape from. We look, or rather try to look with no success, through the face of the windows, through the classic Albertian screen 7 which has already been given to us in the church matrix beside. Yet although we should be able to make more of these concealed windows because they are a positive print, because they are complete, because they approach us on a more realistic scale, reproduced at life size, we cannot. The objects pictured here withdraw from us; furthermore, they merely mock our blindness at not seeing how we look. Blocked up with quite a hint of paned glass behind, one window is blanked out with a white blind, the other simply blankly dark. The apertures look like eyes with teeth in them, or a Dogon mask, or even Man Ray’s Noire et Blanche (1926) if we want to get really perverse. The height of elegant modernist chauvinist beauty thrown against the vacuity of post-industrial decline. Derungs thus catapults us consciously into a world enfolded with and through images, but in such a way that the images themselves become objects that stand resistant to us, impervious to our gaze, indifferent. We—and indeed they—do not attempt to reach out to a real that is beyond, rather the images play in a world that is just theirs, and we can only enter that world if we too submit to their regime: tonal reversal, segmented, partial, inadequate, still, wrenched out of time. In contemplation, in the flood of the image “falling” off the wall, we too become image-object. Perhaps enough has now been said about the works, yet enough can never really be said, we know the image will always exceed the word—let’s accelerate the critique: Derungs’ work continues in a second space partially partitioned from this first room. Opposing three more “BW Negativs” which figure yet more quotidian aspects of the world is Minder’s gold spray paint and cuttlefish secretion mix: things that just shouldn’t work together do in the dialogue between stuff that Derungs and Minder have constructed. Minder makes things; Derungs makes images; together they make objects which inhabit their own world which we can approach and sensually engage with and come to grips with only on those objects’ own terms. This is best summarised by a final work made by Oliver Minder which on a third wall faces these two semi-partitioned spaces. A deep black stain about 100 X 200 cm with streak marks running down a further 2 metres hovers positioned to observe the whole work, and also to be part of this installation, too. This liminal flat suzerain lies in/out of the whole work. The stain of cuttlefish secretion resonates with Derungs’ sponge strokes on the church image; it mirrors the iris of an all-seeing eye; it combines material in situ with the situation itself. Where Minder’s other works have material and medium or substrate upon which the material is exercised, this single black hole is image which sucks everything up into itself. It draws the viewer, who must otherwise look away attentively at the floor work, and imagine horror, or smile at the ironic play of glitter. Look away at the image constructions that suggest how it is we too look to our world. See the play of thing and image in a third area. Or, finally return to the base of the pyramid that triangulates, to realise the stuff-image that unlocks it all for us. Black on white, organic on inorganic, material to substrate, that which in the falling out of one on the other, in its running down the wall simply gives form to both content and expression in one direction, and content and expression to form in another. NOTES In fact, glitter is used as associative forensic evidence: the 20,000 or so varieties are all uniquely identifiable. Joel Sternfeld, Tatorte: Bilder gegen das Vergessen (München: Schirmer/Mosel, 1996). Marc Augé, Non­places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity trans. John Howe (London: Verso, 2006). An echo of the uneven paint strokes of light­sensitive chemicals in the paper preparations made by Henry Talbot some 170 years ago in the first sun drawings that also often pictured architectural forms. It was Talbot’s surprising discovery that where a weaker chemical solution was more thinly spread, greater light sensitivity was actualized, yet this virtual image had then to be chemically developed in a second step. Thus, Derungs unevenly finished spongings suggestively trace back to this originary technology (although his sweeps are the stains of uneven development and not those of the initial preparation of light–sensitive material). Umberto Eco, “Critique of the Image” in “Articulations of Cinematic Code” Cinematics 1, 1970. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2007). Geoffrey Batchen, Burning With Desire: the Conception of Photography (Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1999). (shrink)

Claude Rolley, Juliette Langlois, Nathalie Balcar και Martine Regert Από την άσφαλτο στη ρητίνη : το γέμισμα του αυτιού ενός γρύπα από τους Δελφούς σ. 55-65 Το γέμισμα του κενού στο αυτί μιας σφυρήλατης προτομής γρύπα από τους Δελφούς έγινε με άσφαλτο. Ένα ακόμη επιχείρημα για την προέλευση κατασκευής από την Εγγύς Ανατολή των σφυρήλατων προτομών των στερεωμένων στους λέβητες που βρέθηκαν στην Ελλάδα και την Ετρουρία.

ArgumentWhile science and economy are undoubtedly interwoven, the nature of their relationship is often reduced to a positive correlation between economic and scientific prosperity. It seems that the modern scholarship focusing on “success stories” tends to neglect counterintuitive examples such as the impact of economic crises on research. We argue that economic difficulties, under certain circumstances, may also lead to the prosperous development of scientific institutions. This paper focuses on a particular organism, the Pine Institute in Bordeaux in France. Not (...) only was it a key actor in the process of defining the discipline of resin chemistry, but also it remained for years at the heart of the local resin producing industry. Interestingly, there is an actual inverse correlation between the Institute's budgets and the prices and production of resinous products. The Pine Institute's existence seemed to have been driven by the crisis of the resin industry. (shrink)

Sociological studies of culture have made significant progress on conceptual clarification of the concept, while remaining comparatively quiescent on questions of measurement. This study empirically examines internal conflicts (or “infighting”), a ubiquitous phenomenon in political organizing, to propose a “resinous culture framework” that holds promise for redirection. The data comprise 674 newspaper articles and more than 100 archival documents that compare internal dissent across two previously unstudied lesbian and gay Marches on Washington. Analyses reveal that activists use infighting as a (...) vehicle to engage in otherwise abstract definitional debates that provide concrete answers to questions such as who are we and what do we want. The mechanism that enables infighting to concretize these cultural concerns is its coupling with fairly mundane and routine organizational tasks. This mechanism affords one way to release the culture concept, understood here as collective self-definitions, from being “an amorphous, indescribable mist which swirls around society members,” as it was once provocatively described. (shrink)

This article explores and challenges notions and methodologies of conservation, including the use of blockchain technologies as a means of establishing provenance of a physical BioArtwork, of the artist’s documentation encapsulating their intentions and of the conservator’s records required for the artwork’s ongoing care. The exploration is done through a case study of an art project called ‘Unruly Objects and Biological Conservation’ created by Anna Dumitriu with support from Alex May. The artwork consists of three items containing RFID tags sealed (...) in resin – which point to the location of the artist’s documentation. Therefore, the works physically include instructions for maintaining their inherent concepts and materiality for the benefit of the conservators. Such instructions can often be difficult to track down, or become disassociated from the artwork while the digital preservation of this storage method also poses its own set of questions. The works also include biological material including mud from a bacterial ecosystem known as a Winogradsky Column, living plant material and SARS-CoV-2 (coronavirus) RNA from a plasmid construct. (shrink)

The article is dedicated to the history of developing highly effective catalysts in the leading scientific institutions of Ukraine and explores the prerequisites for developing theories in physical chemistry, in particular those related to kinetics and catalysis. It highlights the significance of scientific discoveries at the turn of the 19th and 20th century and their application by native scientists to advance theoretical development in the field of chemistry. Special attention is paid to the works of Lev Pisarzhevskii, focusing on his (...) advancements in electronic chemistry and, in particular, the electronic theory of catalysis. The article also outlines current challenges in creating highly efficient catalysts for the chemical and light industry, emphasizing the importance of such indicators of catalysts as activity and selectivity. Drawing on historical, scientific and patent data, the study investigates the process of creating a highly efficient catalyst for obtaining acrylic acid from acrolein. This catalyst holds a great ractical importance for the production of various polymers in industrial conditions. It is shown that, as a result of research conducted by native scientists of the Institute of Physical Chemistry of the Academy of Sciences of the Ukrainian SSR and the Chemistry Department of Kyiv State University, the catalyst K-2-5 was developed. The catalyst has good indicators for the industrial production of acrylic acid from acrolein. The authors also highlight works studying the properties of the obtained catalyst, specifically its porous structure, which is an important factor in catalytic processes. They extensively focus on the kinetic indicators of catalytic reactions that occur when using this catalyst. The article also emphasizes the relevance of these developments for advancing research in catalysis and chemical industrial production. (shrink)

While another von Hagens style public autopsy should not be encouraged, the public should nevertheless be able to experience such events as a public autopsy.During 2002 and 2003 there was considerable discussion about the work of Gunter von Hagens, famed for his Body Worlds exhibition,1 which was publicised extensively and with considerable success. The exhibition is a tribute to, and celebration of, his method of preserving organic life through the process of plastination, developed by von Hagens in the 1980s. The (...) process entails a form of preservation, whereby body parts are dehydrated and filled with polymer resin, making them more robust than conventional formaldehyde does.While it was in the United Kingdom, the exhibit was housed at a back street gallery in Brick Lane, London, though the exhibition has toured throughout the world. Despite many millions having flocked to see the exhibition, the reasons for its success are open to interpretation and have provoked strong opinions from the medical community as to whether this physician ought to be entitled to create exhibits from real bodies. Von Hagens would argue that these works are justifiable because they have artistic merit. Others would claim that viewers are being brought to the gallery by the immense publicity. Alternatively, one might suppose that those who attend the exhibition do so mainly because of a fascination with the extraordinary and with the grotesque. Indeed, such fascination with death, and human remains specifically, was the focus of a meeting hosted by the Institute of Ideas and the Royal College of Physicians in May 2003, which was entitled Morbid Fascinations: the Body and Death in Contemporary Culture.The controversy arising from the Body Worlds exhibition pales in comparison, however, to von Hagens’s most recent performance—the first “public autopsy” in Britain …. (shrink)

La statue, monumentale, en marbre de Caïus Ofellius Férus n'avait pu être érigée et présentée depuis sa découverte en 1880 à l'Agora des Italiens à Délos. Sa restauration a été réalisée en septembre-octobre 87. Son principe : restituer à la sculpture ses aplombs d'origine, son maintien par un système léger rendant à l'œuvre sa lisibilité. Pour cela, deux barres en acier inox marine furent introduites dans le marbre, sur une longueur suffisante pour atteindre le centre de gravité placé très haut. (...) Malgré l'extrême difficulté de l'opération le forage fut réalisé sans risque pour l'œuvre au moyen d'une fore,use à outil tubulaire diamanté. Les barres ont été collées avec une résine époxyde et scellées dans un bloc de béton. L'Éphore des Cyclades Mme Zaphiropoulou a déterminé les proportions de ce socle. (shrink)

As the international art market globalizes the indigenous image, it changes its identity, status, value, and purpose in local and larger contexts. Focusing on a school of Australian Aboriginal painting that has become popular in the contemporary art world, Robyn Ferrell traces the influence of cultural exchanges on art, the self, and attitudes toward the other. Aboriginal acrylic painting, produced by indigenous women artists of the Australian Desert, bears a superficial resemblance to abstract expressionism and is often read as (...) such by viewers. Yet to see this art only through a Western lens is to miss its unique ontology, logics of sensation, and rich politics and religion. Ferrell explores the culture that produces these paintings and connects its aesthetic to the brutal environmental and economic realities of its people. From here, she travels to urban locales, observing museums and department stores as they traffic interchangeably in art and commodities. Ferrell ties the history of these desert works to global acts of genocide and dispossession. Rethinking the value of the artistic image in the global market and different interpretations of the sacred, she considers photojournalism, ecotourism, and other sacred sites of the western subject, investigating the intersection of modern art and postmodern culture. She ultimately challenges the primacy of the "European gaze" and its fascination with sacred cultures, constructing a more balanced intercultural dialogue that deemphasizes the aesthetic of the real championed by western philosophy. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Feminist Studies 46, no. 2. © 2020 by Feminist Studies, Inc. 327 Callie Danae Hirsch pandemic daydreams Artist’s Statement I am a painter who works in oils and acrylics on canvas and found objects. I am also a photographer as part of my daily practice. My work is an exploration of everything that surrounds me in my daily life, observing the overlooked, honing in and reimagining it. I seek (...) out discarded items on the streets, in parks, and on the beaches around the five boroughs of New York City and imagine their reincarnation. This series, pandemic daydreams, explores my subconscious in a time of profound anxiety. I sometimes drift off into sleep and, upon waking, remember clearly for a moment the scenario the dreamlet contained. A dream fragment during the day, or as I reframe it here as a daydream, allows my subconscious to float to the surface of consciousness. What is revealed is not always easily understood, but now it is the plague that plagues my sleeping life. Strange ideas emerge; comical, nightmarish, filled with chaos and disruption, the invisible made visible, interpreted from brush to canvas. The paintings serve as a visual diary of my psyche during the coronavirus outbreak, created using acrylic on canvas, measuring from 24 by 20 inches to 44 by 36 inches. My quarantine cocoon strolls include Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, where newly dug soil can be seen on numerous fresh graves as I make my way through the hills seeking fresh air and exercise. Rising smoke from the crematorium is a constant reminder of those we have lost. Migrating birdsong fills my ears, but death hovers in the whirlwind 328 Callie Danae Hirsch around us. Who are we losing today? What will remain of our pre-COVID life and society when this is over? When can we hug each other again? As the pandemic hit, I felt the desire to connect and reflect with others about what we are all losing: our elders, our community members, our friends, our family, and our “IRL” connections with each other. I look forward to the day when this chapter is a distant memory, but for now I will investigate the discomfort of our present moment.  All images shown in this art essay courtesy of Callie Danae Hirsch: Pandemic daydreams i– xvii, 2020. Acrylic on canvas, variable dimensions.  Pandemic daydreams vii, 24 × 36 × 1 inches. left to right  Pandemic daydreams i, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams xvii, 20 × 24 × ½ inches. this page, top to bottom  Pandemic daydreams xiii, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams xvi, 20 × 24 × ½ inches. opposite, top to bottom  Pandemic daydreams v, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams xv, 44 × 36 × 1 ½ inches. left to right  Pandemic daydreams ix, 16 × 20 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams xii, 20 × 30 × 1 ½ inches. left to right  Pandemic daydreams xi, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams ii, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams viii, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams xiv, 20 × 24 × ½ inches. previous page  Pandemic daydreams vi, 20 × 28 × 1 ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams iii, 20 × 24 × ½ inches.  Pandemic daydreams x, 48 × 36 × 1 ½ inches.... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:ImagesSean P. Murphy (bio)[End Page 142] Click for larger view View full resolutionIMAGE: DIALECTICAL MATERIALISM, 2022 Acrylic paint on wood 8 x 8 x 1 inches[End Page 143] Click for larger view View full resolutionFORMALISM, 2022 Acrylic paint on wood 8 x 8 x 1 inches[End Page 3] Click for larger view View full resolutionNEW HISTORICISM, 2022 Acrylic paint on wood 8 x 8 x 1 (...) inches[End Page 89] Click for larger view View full resolutionDECONSTRUCTION, 2022 Acrylic paint on wood 8 x 8 x 1 inches[End Page 141]Sean P. Murphy Sean P. Murphy, PhD, MSN, PMHNPBC, is a Clinical Assistant Professor teaching in the University of Illinois Chicago's Psychiatric-Mental Health Nurse Practitioner doctoral program. He practices at university health and counseling centers, specializing in sexual and gender minority mental health, emerging adult populations, and trauma. Murphy holds a PhD in Literature, Cultural Theory, and Social Practice and was a tenured professor of English and Humanities prior to entering nursing. He uses visual art as a space to digest and metabolize emotions associated with clinical practice as well as to explore connections between the humanities, literary and critical theories, and science. Email: [email protected] © 2023 Cornell University... (shrink)

Postulating that Pope Francis continues the unfinished agenda of the Second Vatican Council, the authors propose, through bibliographical analysis, a re-reading of three important texts, showing their relationship with the pontificate of Francis, from the perspective of the conciliar reception: the document still little considered of the Pact of the Catacombs is rescued but inseparable from the council and its reception, especially in our continent, revealing a path of conversion and commitment of the Church of the poor and for the (...) poor; next, some aspects of the two dogmatic constitutions of the council are analyzed, Dei Verbum and Lumen Gentium, important matrices for the current pontificate, in its dynamics of reform, aggiornamento, and renewal. In the end, concrete resins in Francis' words, gestures and attitudes can be seen in the texts thematic axes: the principle of pastorality, the centrality of the Gospel, and the displacement of a Church in the process of exit from itself, aspects required that documents end up revealing are agendas still open in the 21st century. (shrink)

The biblical story on the miracle of the manna in the Sinai Desert aroused many discussions and interpretations over the generations. The current study focuses on Ibn Ezra’s controversy with Hiwi al-Balkhi on the question of whether the manna was a natural or miraculous phenomenon. The article explores the claims of the two sides in light of the historical evidence and the literature describing the phenomenon of ‘falling manna’ in various areas of the Sinai Desert and Eastern countries. According to (...) Hiwi, the manna that rained down on the Israelites is taranjebin, a semi-liquid resinous sweet secretion of insects (honeydew) that exudes onto plants. Ibn Ezra deals with Hiwi’s claims through a series of refutations and arguments. He argues that the characteristics of the taranjebin do not fit the description of the biblical manna. For example, it does not come down in the Sinai Desert, it appears during a limited season, does not melt in the sun and does not rot during the night, and serves as a medicine rather than as food. Contribution: This article contributes to the understanding of Hiwi al-Balkhi’s identification of the biblical manna as honeydew and Ibn Ezra’s claims against his thesis. It expounds the commentators’ interpretations from a multidisciplinary perspective, such as the reality of harvesting the taranjebin in Iran and North Africa and its uses as food and medicine in the medieval culture. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:108 Feminist Studies 46, no. 1. © 2020 by Feminist Studies, Inc. Ellyn Weiss Anna U. Davis: An Introduction Anna U. Davis is a Swedish American mixed-media artist who was born in Lund, Sweden, and currently resides in Washington, DC. Her work draws frequently on the challenges she has faced living in the United States, particularly those related to her gender and racial position. Her husband, who spent most (...) of his childhood in the same Swedish town as Davis, was born to an African American man and a white Swedish woman. When Anna, who is also white, was pregnant with her own son, now in his early twenties, she began drawing what she terms “Frocasians,” people who are neither black nor white and who cannot claim automatic acceptance from either group. As her work explores, the outsider status of Frocasions both presents opportunity and exacerbates insecurity. Davis’s Swedish roots are central to her brand of feminism. She remembers growing up in an environment where notions of gender justice were firmly embedded in the legal framework and norms of the community. Her struggles with inadequate childcare and family leave as a young mother in the United States, then, form a strong undercurrent shaping her critical perspective. Davis also narrates growing up in a household that was emotionally unstable and sometimes difficult to navigate. As an outgrowth of these varied struggles, her art both values and aims to project strength. Davis’s graphic skills anchor her work; she always starts with detailed pieces in black and white. These pieces are then sometimes All images shown in this art essay courtesy of Anna U. Davis. Anna U. Davis, The Modern Plague, 2012. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 30 × 26 inches. CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT Anna U. Davis, Bull’s-eye, 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 38 × 4 inches. Anna U. Davis, The Edge of Transit, 2008. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 12 × 10 inches. Anna U. Davis, Houseman, 2018. Acrylic and ink pen on cut-out birch plywood, 46 × 3 inches. Anna U. Davis, Black Velvet, 201. Inkjet print, 60 × 80 inches. Anna U. Davis, Black Velvet, 201. Inkjet print, 60 × 80 inches. CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT Anna U. Davis, Drop Dead Gorgeous, 2008. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 48 × 96 inches. Anna U. Davis, Delivered Agenda, 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 20 × 20 inches. Anna U. Davis, Anonymous Was the Woman, 2014. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 12 × 10 inches. NEXT PAGE Anna U. Davis, Dr. Jekyll & Mrs. Hyde, 201. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 2 × 96 inches. LEFT TO RIGHT Anna U. Davis, Equilibrium, 201. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 40 × 40 inches. Anna U. Davis, Second Class, 201. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 2 × 96 inches. CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT Anna U. Davis, Shark-cuteri, 2016. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 2 × 96 inches. Anna U. Davis, Face-it (part ), 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 18 × 24 inches. Anna U. Davis, Love, 201. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 2 × 96 inches. CENTER Anna U. Davis, Last Call, 2019. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 10 × 10 inches. NEXT PAGE Anna U. Davis, Tripping, 201. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on canvas, 2 × 96 inches. LEFT TO RIGHT Anna U. Davis, The Anonymous Celebrity, 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 8 × 44 inches. Anna U. Davis, Tug of War, 2019. Acrylic, ink pen, and paper collage on raw linen, 41 × 31 inches. Anna U. Davis, Undertaker, 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 4 × 2 inches. Anna U. Davis, Lena, 2009. Acrylic and paper collage on canvas, 32 × 32 inches. Ellyn Weiss 125 enlarged, either remaining in black and white, becoming the underpinning of a collage, or more recently, turning into a sculptural wall relief. The color in her pieces is typically derived from the brilliant tones of glossy illustrations in so-called “women’s magazines,” which she cuts up for collaging. The content is also influenced by the articles and advertisements in such magazines. Implicit in some of Davis’s... (shrink)

BPA Production and Associated Health Risks Bisphenol A is a chemical agent found in many everyday products, including canned goods and plastic food containers. BPA exposure is linked to a variety of adverse health effects, such as obesity and diabetes. To protect the public's health — especially the health of vulnerable fetuses, infants, children, and pregnant women — BPA regulations should encompass products intended specifically for these populations. Even with tremendous public outcry against the use of BPA, current federal restrictions (...) do not reach far enough. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration recently banned the use of BPA in children's sippy cups and baby bottles, but failed to address its inclusion in canned infant formula or plastic tableware.BPA production began in the 1950s to make epoxy resins and was later employed to create polycarbonate plastic products. (shrink)

The 200-Year Continuum is the producer, recorder and exhibitor in Christian Kerrigan's advancing anthology of narratives. Central to Kerrigan's practice is storytelling and myth-making as a means of engaging his audience. Kerrigan uses drawing as his primary mode of research into these narratives which are consequently offered in the form of live Internet feed installations acting as ecological sites, collaborative scientific experiments introducing new organic technologies and digital images of worlds unseen. Each addition acts as a middle story within The (...) 200-Year Continuum. In his narrative, The Amber Clock, a ship is grown in the yew forest, Kingley Vale, over 200 years. As such, he explores the possibilities of time in relationship to technology and the natural world. In his narrative, artificial and wild systems are choreographed, and the natural production of resin is harvested from the yew trees as a way of measuring time. Biological imperatives are harnessed in a second collaborative architectural project entitled Living Architecture: The Protocell. This project seeks to investigate the design potential of using the drivers of biology, the technological issues and the implications of intervention. (shrink)

Photographs and text document disappearing cultural landscapes and lifestyles in rural China, capturing poignant scenes far from Beijing or Shanghai. Just a few kilometers from the glittering skylines of Shanghai and Beijing, we encounter a vast countryside, an often forgotten and seemingly limitless landscape stretching far beyond the outskirts of the cities. Following traces of old trade routes, once-flourishing marketplaces, abandoned country estates, decrepit model villages, and the sites of mystic rituals, the authors of this book spent seven years exploring, (...) photographing, and observing the vast interior of China, where the majority of Chinese people live in ways virtually unchanged for centuries. China's Vanishing Worlds is an impressive documentation in images and text of modernization's effect on traditional ways of life, and a sympathetic portrait of lives burdened by hardship but blessed by simplicity and tranquility. The scars of China's recent history and the decay of centuries-old traditions are made visible in this volume, but so is the lure and promise of technology and another life for young people. In the next twenty years, an estimated 280 million Chinese villagers will become city dwellers, leaving their ancestral homes in search of urban jobs and opportunities. In striking and evocative color photographs, we see picturesque villages set against a background of rolling hills, planned centuries ago according to the principles of feng shui; a restaurant with bright pink resin chairs and a wide-screen television; traditional buildings preserved by the accident of poverty and isolation; ramshackle rooms decorated with portraits of Chairman Mao; backpack-wearing children walking to school; festivals with elaborately costumed performers; old men playing cards; buyers and sellers at open-air markets. China's Vanishing Worlds offers readers a rare opportunity to glimpse China as it once was, and as it will soon no longer be. (shrink)

Canada balsam is secreted by cells in the bark of the balsam fir Abies balsamea, a conifer widely distributed across Canada and northern U.S.A. Collected by an extraordinarily labour-intensive process, it was initially exported to Europe for use in pharmacy. However, it found a much wider application after Brewster showed that the refractive index of 1·54–1·55 characterizing the vitreous mass remaining after heating the natural product exceeded that of most resins, and therefore closely matched the indices of ‘crown’ and ‘light (...) flint’ optical glasses. ‘Cooked’ Canada balsam was therefore very suitable for cementing achromatic lenses for telescopes and microscopes, as well as for mounting specimens for microscopical examination. Canada balsam remained pre-eminent for over a century, but the rise of synthetic adhesives and other substitutes has now relegated the natural balsam to a few specialized niches. (shrink)