Shutter Island is a much-criticized and highly debated film. Scorsese, in fact, has been accused of distorting the facts and altering his historical sources. The depictions we see of the Holocaust are false, not based on visual documents, a mix of incompatible evidences and iconographies, an amalgam of irreconcilable informations and representations. The director has created a visual style and a sound design that vacillate between thriller and horror, drama and fantasy, while betraying the medial transparency of the reconstruction and (...) the ethical responsibility of interpretation. The viewer sees and believes in the images of the concentration camp of Dachau which are, in reality, dialectical imaginings of another scene: in these images, constructed according to the clinical and critical vision of Scorsese as cinephile, the past and the repressed return in the present. In our present too. On the one hand, in fact, the viewer participates empathically in the mental images relived and suffered by the protagonist in his post-traumatic hallucinations; on the other hand, the viewer is prompted to recall the pictures quoted or paraphrased from the archives of the imagery of cinema and of the photojournalism of war–in which Pontecorvo, Resnais, Fuller, George Stevens and John Huston live side by side with the RKO horror films of Jacques Tourneur and Mark Robson. For Scorsese, the images of the violence of war and of the horror of extermination cannot be linked to an origin or past that have definitively been concluded. They are more than recorded pictures or concrete evidences: they are clues and symptoms. They come from a conflictual and endless descent of which cinema is the living and ambiguous memory; they are the open wounds of an original struggle between human and inhuman and of man–they still survive, here and now. (shrink)

How will the Holocaust be remembered as its survivors disappear? In this article Janina Bauman reflects upon her own work on the Holocaust in the context of the Holocaust's broader reception. She offers her own views about the genre with reference to contemporary documents and testimonials, secondary work, scholarly work, fiction and film. These observations and stories all circulate around her own 1986 landmark text, Winter in the Morning.

The meeting of film and history sits at a position where it becomes hard to distinguish their interdependent dynamics. Accordingly, how do film and history connect, work with or work against each other? What is the significance of film for constructing histories of the people whose past, identity and culture were denied for long years? Where does this bring or drive film towards becoming a medium through which precarious politics on diverse people are revealed, documented and archived? Leaning on these, (...) in this article, I will interrogate the position of transnational Kurdish cinema produced in Turkey for transforming the precarious political realms into a creative force that exposes different Kurdish histories, memories and temporalities. To do this I will make use of the interviews I conducted with Kurdish filmmakers in Turkey between 2010 and 2016, including Hüseyin Karabey, Mizgin Müjde Arslan, and Zeynel Doğan, and their films which reveal the tensions they inherit from their ancestors. (shrink)

For Situationist, theorist and film-maker Guy Debord, the aerial view reproduced the falsely objective world-view he called ‘the spectacle’. To counter its myth of an infinitely expandable, omniscient perspective, Debord focused on reducing views from above to ‘derisory documents’ of the social and the environmental through détournement in the two films he made while the Situationist International was in existence. The films engage critically with aerial photography as a hegemonic mode of indexical media, with the aerial view’s application as information (...) image and ornament, and with the formal phenomenon of ciné-mapping. This analysis suggests that the détournement Debord performs in and across these films can be best conceptualized as a critical optic that constitutes a practice of seeing, a mode of reception and a call to action in the social space beyond its aesthetic employ. As such, the optic of détournement is the contestational counterpart to the optic of the aerial view. This remains the case despite the contemporary complexity of photographic views from above and their increased abstraction of social agents and spaces. An alternative to the testimonial function of embodied photographic views, détournement as optic represents an indexical civil contract founded upon representational inadequacy. (shrink)

Gravestones and inscription stones, which are among the oldest indicators of the phenomenon of death engraved in the public memory with images and rituals, are the ancient interpreters of the consciousness of death, which is the redemption of human beings as conscious beings. The phenomenon of death or dying, which was domesticated through a natural spirituality in antiquity, and a monotheistic religiosity in the Middle Ages, loses its spirituality by becoming profaned in the hands of consumer culture and is brutalized (...) today in terms of lifestyle by being cut off from existence in positivist paradigm in epistemological terms. The study deals with the secular perception of death and the individual and social crises caused by this perception in the context of tradition and modernity. The purpose of the study is to draw attention to the spread of natural and materialist assumptions in the perception of death and the strengthening of the profane elements in mourning ceremonies and to make sense of the traces left by this process in the individual and society. It is seen in the study that the efforts to cover up and intimidate the deceased and the subject of loss bring existential crises, alienation, and violence against oneself or others. On the other hand, it is also understood that it is not a coincidence that the traces of the culture of reconciliation built between death and life by the traditional perception of death in the countryside as an alternative perception faced. The study has been conducted with the document analysis design method, which is a qualitative research type. The approaches to the phenomenon of death have been subjected to a chronological literature reading in the study, and the diagnoses of the 21st century attitudes of the death perception, which were reached by going back to early days, were tested in historical and semiotics terms with the films Making Ships from Watermelon Shell (2004) and Shattered (2021), which were chosen to represent two different paradigms as documentary data. The study is important in that it examined the changing perception of death and the culture of mourning in detail and created a current topography and contributes to the studies of the sociology of death, which is still a fresh field. (shrink)

BackgroundWe review original papers on ovarian-hormone status in two areas of emotional processing: facial emotion recognition and emotional memory. Ovarian-hormone status is operationalized by the levels of the steroid sex hormones 17β-estradiol and progesterone, fluctuating over the natural menstrual cycle and suppressed under oral contraceptive use. We extend previous reviews addressing single areas of emotional processing. Moreover, we systematically examine the role of stimulus features such as emotion type or stimulus valence and aim at elucidating factors that reconcile the inconsistent (...) results.MethodsWe followed the Preferred Reporting Items for Systematic Reviews and Meta-Analyses guidelines and included papers published until September 2020 indexed in PubMed and Web of Science databases. Search terms were MeSH terms AND AND with representing our separately searched areas, resulting in, and. To be included, articles had to be written and published in English, examine healthy, non-pregnant adult women in their reproductive age, and measure or at least estimate levels of E2 and P4. In PubMed, the search was limited to humans and to the search term present in the title or abstract.ResultsFeatures of the provided stimulus material constitute a relevant influence that interacts with E2- and P4-related ovarian-hormone status. For instance, recognition of basic emotions appears to be more related to P4- than E2-levels. Quite consistent, OC intake was accompanied by impaired recognition accuracy of basic and also complex emotions, although not in a recent large-sample study assessing complex emotions. Memory recall of negative content was mainly enhanced by P4, especially after having been stressed.Discussion and ConclusionWe document the methodological diversity in the field, presumably contributing to the heterogeneity of results. More studies explicitly contrasting the early follicular phase, mid-cycle phase, mid-luteal, and OC intake while standardizing tasks are needed. Research would take advantage of using within-subject designs and accounting for the recognition of complex emotions. (shrink)

Documentary cinema is intimately tied to historical memory. Not only does it seek to reconstruct historical narrative, but it often functions as an historical document itself. Moreover, the connection between the rhetoric of documentary film and historical truth pushes the documentary into overtly political alignments which influence its audience.This essay describes and dissects the history and rhetoric of documentary cinema, tracing its various modes of address from the earliest moments of cinematic representation through its uses for ethnographers, artists, governments, and (...) marginal political organizations in the present. The different uses of documentary result in a wide variety of formal strategies to persuade the audience of a film's truth. These strategies are based on a desire to enlist the audience in the process of historical reconstruction. The documentary film differentiates itself from narrative cinema by claiming its status as a truth-telling mode. However, as a filmic construction, it relies on cinematic semiosis to convince its audience of its validity and truth. By looking at the history of documentary address, this essay outlines the rhetoric of persuasion and evaluates its effectiveness.The documentary calls upon its audience to participate in historical remembering by presenting an intimate view of reality. Through cinematic devices such as montage, voice-over, intertitles, and long takes, documentary provokes its audience to new understandings about social, economic, political, and cultural differences and struggles. The films actively engage with their world; however, often viewers respond to the same devices motivating classic Hollywood narratives. Thus the genre reinforces dominant patterns of vision.Recent challenges to the emotional manipulations of documentary deconstruct its forms and conventions so that the films interrogate not only historical memory but their own investment in its recreation. Imaginative documentaries, such as Claude Lanzmann's hoah, foreground their partial and contingent qualities, pushing viewers to question cinematic representation and its place in historical memory. Moreover, they ask audiences to think about their place in the films' meanings as well as their responsibility to the past and its interpretations. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:IntroductionSpatial, Environmental, and Ecocritical Approaches to Holocaust MemoryEmily-Rose Baker (bio), Michael Holden (bio), Diane Otosaka (bio), Sue Vice (bio), and Dominic Williams (bio)The successful implementation of genocide during the Holocaust depended on the spatial organisation of mass murder. From the concentrated ghettos and camps delimited by walls and barbed wire to the open fields and camouflaged forests where victims were shot en masse, Anne Kelly Knowles et al. argue, (...) specific locations, patterns of migration, deportation and evacuation, and other spatial elements such as scale, were all central to the Nazi regime's creation of a "comprehensive geography of oppression."1 This is hardly surprising given the biopolitical logics and colonial fantasies underpinning Lebensraum ('living space'), the territorial concept guiding the genocidal aims of the Third Reich, which designated zones of life as well as the inverse on the European continent. The Holocaust was also experienced spatially by its victims, who were forced to navigate new (and at times familiar) sites and landscapes as those of genocide, and whose testimonies in the aftermath of the event conjured these very places in detail.In recent years, the spaces of the Holocaust have been variously revisited, reconstructed, and reimagined within Holocaust studies scholarship. As a broader part of the 'spatial turn' in the humanities, Holocaust scholars have increasingly employed spatial perspectives of the event to deepen our understanding of the environments in which the Holocaust took place and the transformation of these spaces over time—particularly in the fields of history and social science.2 While drawing on diverse modes of spatialisation from interdisciplinary perspectives, contributions from these fields have tended to privilege methods we might describe as variously 'forensic,' including mapping, model-making, and investigations of material traces of the past.3 This work has resulted in many significant insights, not only into the [End Page 1] contexts and structures of Nazi genocide and the perpetrator imaginings of space, but also the experiences of victims and survivors.4Another significant body of work has attended to space and culture within Holocaust contexts. From early on in the postwar period, particular locations and buildings became identified with the Holocaust, such as the notorious entrance guard house at Auschwitz-Birkenau, which appears on countless book covers as well as within films and artworks. Engaging with spatial insights and methodologies from the perspective of cultural and memory studies, scholars have attested to the production and mnemonic significance of these and less well-known sites, as well as the symbolic spatial worlds and experiences to which they give rise. These include Paul Jaskot and Gavriel Rosenfeld, who have turned respectively to Holocaust and post-Holocaust architectures as commonly overlooked sites of history and memory. Drawing attention to the construction of Holocaust space, Jaskot shows how reading architecture 'as process' rather than static structures laden with symbolic meaning reveals unique histories of forced labor in which "the goals of the SS intersected with victims' experience."5 Rosenfeld demonstrates the ways in which spaces built in response to Nazi genocide after 1945 have been variously "imbued with Jewish significance" by their users and creators, resulting in the rise to prominence of Jewish-identified architects.6 Along similar lines, Michael Meng's work has explored the ways in which Jews and gentiles interact with ruined synagogues, cemeteries and Jewish districts as important remnants of pre-war Jewish life in the post-war period in German and Polish cities.7Studies such as those noted above have tended to focus on cities and public buildings, as well as state and civic policy. But as the spatial histories and geographies of the Holocaust have helped to show, extermination often took place in rural settings (mostly located in Central and Eastern Europe), such as the killing fields where Jews were shot en masse; the forests where victims hid and were hunted by Germans and local collaborators; or the open spaces of the dissolving Reich through which former concentration camp inmates were forced to march during the final year of the war—sites in which, owing to less contained spatial dynamics, violence played out differently.8These kinds of sites, which are sparsely documented and often simply thought of... (shrink)

The greatest intensity of “live” life is captured from as close as possible in order to be borne as far as possible away. Jacques Derrida. Echographies of Television . Rainer Ganahl has made a study of studying. As part of his extensive autobiographical art practice, he documents and presents many of the ambitious educational activities he undertakes. For example, he has been videotaping hundreds of hours of solitary study that show him struggling to learn Chinese, Arabic and a host of (...) other languages. The stacked boxes of tapes are then presented like minimalist monoliths, dense archives of effort. About fifteen years ago, Ganahl began photographing the lectures that he attends. At the time, he hadn’t seen anyone else doing it, so besides his spare selection of images of the speaker and the audience, much of the time the lectures would just pass into memory, undocumented, or recorded in writing alone. Since then, he has felt the transition to digital cause a significant shift in his process. At the same time, he has seen the habit become ubiquitous as others photograph, record, and videotape the lectures all around him. In keeping with the theme of this inaugural issue of continent. , can we propose each small grouping of photographs that result an isthmus stretching between two disparate bodies of mind? The first being the body of the lecture as spelled out in the title of each work – the experience of the event in all its constituent parts. The second is the body of the recipient, the listener, in this case an artist, who plays a minimal role just beyond the prescripted behavior of sitting and listening. He uses a gesture of documentation to draw a line between himself and the event, creating an artwork. Františka + Tim Gilman: As we mentioned before, the theme of the magazine for this issue is "isthmus." It seems like a very good way into your work, and it leads us to ask what connection you see between your photographs of the lecture and the lecture itself? Rainer Ganahl: The relationship is of course a concrete, pictorial one, or if you want a mimetic one but also an abstract one because the photographs carry the title of the lecture, the names of the lecturers, the site, the institution and the time of the lecture. Photos are fixed moments of time and can reproduce images displayed and reproduce visuals presented at a moment but they don’t come with time based recordings that video or sound takes are offering. What remains of a lecture is usually just the memory, some notes and all the announcements of it. In my case I end up with a visual product I declare as my artwork. It might not differ from any snapshot taken by any other student or member of the audience but I do this in a semi-systematic way with certain rules and procedures I have set up. While I am at a lecture I am mainly focusing on the lecture itself. Last night I went to one of Slavoj Žižek which demanded quite some concentration. I even was asking him a question at the end. I took photos as well but still didn’t lose track of the lecture. I didn’t walk around, I was not preoccupied by where I was sitting and what light I was having like some of the other photographing and filming people in the room who came and left, moved around and tried to capture him from this and that angle, from close and far. I just sat there and concentrated on the lecture and yet managed to take about 30 or so images of him, the public around me and of the film clips he presented. Once the lecture is over the story changes: it all becomes a question of the images, their selection, their visual qualities, their labeling and archiving. The function of the images also change: not only do they stand for an intellectual event in a row of lectures that become part of my intellectual history within many possible such histories but they also have to function as art, something not everybody else with images of lecturers demands of their images. This is my specific claim as an artist to impose them as artworks. And as with all artistic propositions the offer can be accepted or rejected. I basically spend my life trying to do exactly that: making what I declare as art, offering something to anybody interested in it as my art, an offer that is not and will never be accepted as such by all people. F+T: What are your criteria for selection, i.e. how do you choose which lectures to photograph, by lecturer, by topic, or do you photograph any and every lecture you can? RG: As everything in my life, I go by my interest which is the result of many factors. If I am aware of a lecturer, read his books or appreciate his works my interest of attending his much higher than if I am not aware of it. I usually don’t go to lecturers simply based on their subjects—something that can happen of course, if the subject, the title of the lecture is promising or at the heart of my interest. Sometimes I also wait for years to get a change to photograph certain people but I do that in a very low-level “keep your ears up” mentality and not in a systematic scanning of all channels and possibilities. I do not go into philosophy departments and photograph everybody teaching there. I go with the flow—and unfortunately a great deal of great talks I also miss because I hear too late of them. Often, I also stumble into them by traveling, by getting emails from friends and by simply being in the right spot at the right time. Somehow you could look at my lecture par cours as some kind of loose intellectual flâneurism . If you know of interesting lectures and events, please, let me know. F+T: Is your selection of images more of a production or post-production method? That is, do you take a lot of photos and select only a few images from each lecture, or do you take them very selectively? Do you have a particular methodology for the selection of images? RG: This all changed a bit with the arrival of digital photography. In the beginning I had to pay a lot of money for film developing. Hence, I was taking either one role - 36 images - or half a role - 13 images - depending on who talked and whether they projected images. With the unlimited capacity of digital imaging I easily end up between 30 and 150 images of one event still depending of whether images are presented or not. In the first years of that project when I wasn’t fully aware yet of what I was doing, I printed at least 2 images of any lecture and sometimes three or even four, a choice that was also constrained by costs. But again, since I have a web site and since images can easily be selected and presented on my web site without generating remarkable costs I have now more and more pain to reduce them to less than ten or eight images for an event. Now, before I have them printed which really is expensive, I can present them already as artwork on my web site without any immediate costs. Thus the economic factor is at the end of the chain which enables me to be more ‘generous’ and include more images. Over the last years I have been mostly selecting at least four photographs for a lecture unit but recently also as many as ten. But so far only one set above four images has been actually printed and sold. What might sound even more shocking is the likely fact that if a curator or a collector demands me to reduce the number of images due to costs, I might compromise at this current stage if the images have not been yet printed or published outside my own web site. This means that to a certain degree any selection that has only seen publication on my web site and not yet been produced runs the risk to change in numbers of images included. Needless to say, I am the last one that finally makes a decision and I do honor all given earlier decision if those were final. F+T: How do you feel the act of photographing the lecture affects your reception of the contents of the lecture? And your recollection afterwards, do you remember the lecture more having photographed it, or just having sat and listened? RG: As mentioned above, I get very little distraction from photographing since I can multitask well and do not obsess about the quality of the image: I photograph from where I am and listen with my ears and not my eyes. I am not sure whether the images serve as a mnemonic devise to the content of the lecture if there are no images involved but they at least remind me that the lecture existed, the title of the lecture and the name of the people and institutions involved. The titles of the hundreds of lectures I took during the past 15 years can also be read as an essay of theoretical life in that period. This will be come more and more visible as time passes by. These images age much better than I do. F+T: You mentioned at the outset of our discussions that you started this practice some time ago and have seen the practice of photographing lecturers become more commonplace. Why do you think that this shift has taken place? RG: The answer is very simple. Photographing is now free of any charge and hence omnipresent. You buy a phone or any other personal digital assistant and it has a camera integrated in it whether you want it or not. There is no need to develop images and there is no hassle to keep images, to distribute images, to organize images and save them. It is all virtual, not creating any costs and doesn’t require any efforts. You don’t spend twenty dollars for photo-developing anymore, you don’t need to walk anymore to your pharmacy or your photo shop to drop off and return to pick up and pay. You don’t need to go to the post office to send somebody a picture. You have a program like Photoshop already built into your camera. Photographing is now a thing for everybody—with functioning cameras made for two year olds. It is technically now nearly impossible to make bad images. The image quality is virtually guaranteed by cheap, high performing, mini-computers packed into miniscule cameras. With all these technological changes, we are undergoing now a cultural paradigm shift that includes permanent recording (not only still image taking) of everything. I wonder even whether babies are just born to be photographed—at least a process where the first photograph is right there. What is interesting now, is how the law is trying to catch up. I am experiencing and expecting more restrictions on photographing and recording—something already in place in many museums and in certain galleries—as the recording devices become more and more invisible and undetectable. It is an interesting cat and mouse play and will end up with some of us that are photographing the world around us in court. The world has become very transparent and everybody is contributing to it with social networking technologies—like twitter and Facebook—that are designed to monitor and communicate every step we make in our lives. F+T: Why did you start the practice? As a way to remember, or to capture the experience of the lecture and the environment there? RG: A couple of years earlier I started to photograph my own reading seminars as part of my art work with results that surprised me positively. I really liked these images of students and people discussing heavy non-fiction with me. The reading seminars justified this kind of pictorialism. Then in 1995 I had the chance to attend an entire seminar by Edward Said entitled “The Representation of Intellectuals at Columbia University,” which really gave me the idea to start this series. Why not also photograph these lectures I visit all the time since this really is a way of representing intellectuals? F+T: The constellation of images and the title seem like a kind of portrait, do you agree? If so, is it a portrait of the speaker, of yourself, or of the event? RG: Well, to follow up on the previous question the lectures are more than just portraits of lecturers since I include not only the speakers but also the audience, an audience that is not named or specifically highlighted as is the speaker. So if we stick with the metaphor of the portrait we would have to extend it also to the environment, the class room, the lecture hall, the arrangements of seats or benches, tables, lecture stands and other stuff typically seen on my images. Often the walls are decorated or even tagged with graffiti or posters and other stuff. There is a big difference between a small seminar room at the English Department of Columbia University, full with books and cabinets and a lecture room at a Paris or Frankfurt university that accommodates 50 to 150 people. We should, maybe, also distinguish between lectures that are one time events—mostly open to the public, free of charge or paid—and events that are weekly, closed to the public and held mostly in universities that can cost fortunes or be paid by the State as it is still predominantly the case in continental Europe. All this, of course, is not necessarily announced in the title of the lecture and is subject to information that isn’t visible on the images. To a certain degree we see also portraits of a general privilege when it comes to the public of certain institutions that are highly selective and extremely costly without forgetting that most of the lectures are dealing with theory, art, philosophy and other highbrow subjects. In general, I would say we see very little if we don’t know already what’s going on, who the lecturer, the institutions, the context are in which we subsequently can zoom into variants like sexual, racial, or age-related make-up without ignoring clothing fashions, hair styling, body mannerisms, gadgets and stuff. F+T: Do you see a relation between this body of work and your other work, for example your language studies? RG: Everything I do is “unfortunately” related. I say unfortunately because this makes my work not so easy to grasp. The relationship to the language studies is relatively clear since both are originally grounded in the domain of education and knowledge production. Nearly all my work comes across that nexus where knowledge and power are addressed. I was at one point wondering what the relationship was to some of my earlier indexical work where I was happy alone with footnotes from books painted on the walls: I came to understand that both are just different manifestations of knowledge and information. F+T: Do you foresee continuing the series indefinitely, or is there an end to it? RG: I think that I will continue this series indefinitely or to be more precise, as long as I go listen to lectures and want to learn something which brings me to your previous question: What do the reading seminars, language studies, historical research and lecture hopping have in common: I learn something. Further Reading Rainer Ganahl’s website William Kaizen. “ Vulgar Politics .” art&education . April 2009. Web. Smith, Roberta. “ Rainer Ganahl: ‘Language of Emigration & Pictures of Emigration .’” New York Times April 23 2010. Web. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell. Volume I: Separate Publications, 1896–1990 by Kenneth Blackwell, Harry RujaG. A. Wedeking and A. D. IrvineKenneth Blackwell and Harry Ruja. A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell. Volume I: Separate Publications, 1896–1990. Pp. lvi + 611. Volume II: Serial Publications, 1890–1990. Pp. xiv + 575. Volume III: Indexes. Pp. xi + 305. London: Routledge, 1994. Cloth, $455.00 the set.As Russell remarked: “It is a curious (...) fact that the most indubitably useful books are those most devoid of literary merit; for example, railway timetables and the telephone [End Page 146] book” (Vol. I, p. xlviii). Even so, since it will be agreed immediately that, for anyone interested in learning more about Russell’s writings, this beautifully crafted bibliography will be extremely useful, it would be a disservice to the authors to imply that it has no more literary merit than a railway timetable. The entire project simply has too much style.When Russell’s bibliographers began their task, fewer than 600 publications by Russell were known. By the time of publication they were able to record 181 of Russell’s books, pamphlets and leaflets, 629 contributions to books, pamphlets, and leaflets primarily authored by others, and approximately 3,550 serial publications of various types. Not being content merely to record the details of these publications, the authors follow each publication through its various editions, impressions, reprints, and translations. This is no mean task, given that Russell’s work has been translated into some 47 languages. In addition, the authors cite related pre-publication materials, give sources for rare and difficult-to-find books and documents, and include a comprehensive index. In short, they do nothing less than provide an authoritative, detailed record of Russell’s published work from 1890 to 1990.As the authors also point out, this is “a bibliography not only of Russell’s writings submitted and actually published, but also of certain other texts. Together they can be regarded as his published thoughts” (I: xix). Thus the bibliography mentions not only Russell’s books, articles, and published letters, but published accounts of his speeches, addresses, press conferences, and interviews; book reviews and recommendations (what Russell called “puffs”) for other people’s books; multiple-signatory letters to the editor and other similar documents; published extracts from Russell’s private correspondence and originally unpublished manuscripts; and audio recordings and films. A mark of the bibliography’s completeness is its catalogue of works that have been spuriously attributed to Russell, including two posthumous “spirit communications” (II: 573–74).The authors candidly describe Russell’s reaction when in 1966 he was shown slips of accumulated new entries: “ ‘I am impressed’, he said, ‘but I don’t think it’s worth it’ “ (I: li). Now, after several decades, we are finally in a position to evaluate Russell’s opinion. To do so, users of the bibliography will want to know the answer to three questions: Is the bibliography complete? Is it accurate? Is it easy to use?With regard to the first two of these three questions, the authors have made a commendable effort to balance comprehensiveness with accuracy (see their discussion of some problem cases, “Introduction,” I: xxvi ff.), rightly preferring accuracy to other desiderata. Concerning ease of use, one issue which comes to mind is whether the inclusion of such minor items as political pamphlets, letters to the editor, and statements made at news conferences, are always worth recording, or whether these items simply make the project so large as to be unmanageable. Once again, upon seeing the completed work, the reader will have little doubt that the correct decision has been made. Researchers interested in Russell’s political involvements and their relation to his more theoretical works, for example, will find this an invaluable resource. All in all, we believe that the bibliography will surpass the requirements of even the most demanding of users. It was, pace Russell, definitely worth it. [End Page 147]As with other volumes associated with the Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell project, these three volumes are beautifully typeset and bound. They will be a pleasure to use for both students and scholars alike for generations to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell. Volume I: Separate Publications, 1896–1990 by Kenneth Blackwell, Harry RujaG. A. Wedeking and A. D. IrvineKenneth Blackwell and Harry Ruja. A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell. Volume I: Separate Publications, 1896–1990. Pp. lvi + 611. Volume II: Serial Publications, 1890–1990. Pp. xiv + 575. Volume III: Indexes. Pp. xi + 305. London: Routledge, 1994. Cloth, $455.00 the set.As Russell remarked: “It is a curious (...) fact that the most indubitably useful books are those most devoid of literary merit; for example, railway timetables and the telephone [End Page 146] book” (Vol. I, p. xlviii). Even so, since it will be agreed immediately that, for anyone interested in learning more about Russell’s writings, this beautifully crafted bibliography will be extremely useful, it would be a disservice to the authors to imply that it has no more literary merit than a railway timetable. The entire project simply has too much style.When Russell’s bibliographers began their task, fewer than 600 publications by Russell were known. By the time of publication they were able to record 181 of Russell’s books, pamphlets and leaflets, 629 contributions to books, pamphlets, and leaflets primarily authored by others, and approximately 3,550 serial publications of various types. Not being content merely to record the details of these publications, the authors follow each publication through its various editions, impressions, reprints, and translations. This is no mean task, given that Russell’s work has been translated into some 47 languages. In addition, the authors cite related pre-publication materials, give sources for rare and difficult-to-find books and documents, and include a comprehensive index. In short, they do nothing less than provide an authoritative, detailed record of Russell’s published work from 1890 to 1990.As the authors also point out, this is “a bibliography not only of Russell’s writings submitted and actually published, but also of certain other texts. Together they can be regarded as his published thoughts” (I: xix). Thus the bibliography mentions not only Russell’s books, articles, and published letters, but published accounts of his speeches, addresses, press conferences, and interviews; book reviews and recommendations (what Russell called “puffs”) for other people’s books; multiple-signatory letters to the editor and other similar documents; published extracts from Russell’s private correspondence and originally unpublished manuscripts; and audio recordings and films. A mark of the bibliography’s completeness is its catalogue of works that have been spuriously attributed to Russell, including two posthumous “spirit communications” (II: 573–74).The authors candidly describe Russell’s reaction when in 1966 he was shown slips of accumulated new entries: “ ‘I am impressed’, he said, ‘but I don’t think it’s worth it’ “ (I: li). Now, after several decades, we are finally in a position to evaluate Russell’s opinion. To do so, users of the bibliography will want to know the answer to three questions: Is the bibliography complete? Is it accurate? Is it easy to use?With regard to the first two of these three questions, the authors have made a commendable effort to balance comprehensiveness with accuracy (see their discussion of some problem cases, “Introduction,” I: xxvi ff.), rightly preferring accuracy to other desiderata. Concerning ease of use, one issue which comes to mind is whether the inclusion of such minor items as political pamphlets, letters to the editor, and statements made at news conferences, are always worth recording, or whether these items simply make the project so large as to be unmanageable. Once again, upon seeing the completed work, the reader will have little doubt that the correct decision has been made. Researchers interested in Russell’s political involvements and their relation to his more theoretical works, for example, will find this an invaluable resource. All in all, we believe that the bibliography will surpass the requirements of even the most demanding of users. It was, pace Russell, definitely worth it. [End Page 147]As with other volumes associated with the Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell project, these three volumes are beautifully typeset and bound. They will be a pleasure to use for both students and scholars alike for generations to... (shrink)

Introduction : cinema, memory, modernity: the return of memory as film -- No escape from time : memory and redemption in the international postwar art film -- The "crisis" of memory : "traumatic identity" in the contemporary memory film -- "Global memory" : cinema as lingua franca and the commodification of the image -- The eye of history : memory, surveillance and ethicality in the contemporary art film -- "Prosthetic memory" and transnational cinema : globalized identity and narrative recursivity in (...) City of God -- Conclusion: remembering to forget: the catachreses of modernity. (shrink)

Memory, as is well known, makes up a large part of our identity (even though the criterion of this “identity” is controversial). Documents – understood as inscriptions – make up our external memory in a peculiar way: they constitute both a stable anchor and a reference-point for our personal transformations over time. There is, however, also an internal memory, residing in our brain. This is based in part on external documentation; but it is of course not exclusively tied thereto. Rather (...) it evolves dynamically over time, in part reflecting ethical debates which we carry on within ourselves and which is influenced also by emotional factors, for example as we try to erase memories that are unpleasant. If, for example, the internal memory of some offense against our person is erased, then the motivation to testify against those who offended against us no longer exists or is greatly reduced, and this is so even though the documents that record the offense remain. Our motivations here depend on the emotional factor in our memories; once this has been lost, even though the autobiographical, episodic memory still remains, then the value-significance of the event fades from our view, and with it the impulse to act. Emotions are in large part responsible for creating a bond with documents; they make it possible for our internal and external memories to have significance. There must be some degree of emotional resonance in inscriptions relating to events in the past, which arises out of our own experience of these events and from our memory of these experiences, for these inscriptions to have significance in our lives. Documents are thus fundamental. But for ourselves and for our social lives, they must be supplemented by internal memories. (shrink)

ArgumentThis paper explores the relationship between the medium of motion-picture film and the representation of autobiographical memory during the middle decades of the twentieth century. The paper argues that a reciprocal relationship developed between film and memory, in which film was understood as an externalized form of memory, and memory an internalized record of personal experience similar in many respects to film. Memory was often represented as an object-like entity, preserved in stable form within the body, and able to be (...) extracted by the right stimulus or trigger. A particularly important community in which this representation was developed was psychotherapeutic practitioners with psychoanalytic orientations, particularly during and shortly after the Second World War. In special circumstances, therapists and others claimed, records of past life events could be projected, film-like, onto the screen of an individual's conscious, replaying previous experiences in real time. The paper develops a social historical account of this relationship, and reflects on its significance for the history of selfhood in the twentieth century. (shrink)

_Memory and Popular Film_ Edited by Paul Grainge Manchester, England: Manchester University Press, 2003 ISBN 071963744 hb 0719063752 pb 261 pp.

This paper explores how organizational members use documents to share their knowledge within and across work settings. I suggest that organizational studies of distributed knowledge sharing and information systems would greatly benefit from the linguistic analysis of communicative practices. Specifically, the paper highlights the notion of indexical centering as formulated by the linguistic anthropologist William Hanks and demonstrates its analytical power in studying documenting as a communicative practice. Drawing on a 15-month, multi-sited ethnographic study in several pediatric healthcare settings, the (...) paper focuses on how two doctors compose and use two medical histories found in two distinct medical information systems. The analysis suggests that the doctors use documents to index the temporal, spatial, and participatory dimensions of their knowledge sharing. They do so by indexing, on the one hand, the participants, times and places for their communicative practices and, on the other hand, the participants, times and places of their general care practices. The indexical analysis allows us to perceive documents, as more than mere vessels for knowledge transfer among organizational members, but as an integrated part of how people structure their work practices and situate their knowledge sharing in complex distributed organizational settings. (shrink)

Introduction -- Against house arrest -- Digital impressions: writing memory after Agnès Varda -- Folding time: toward a new theory of montage -- Archiving disappearance: from Michelangelo Antonioni to new media.

This paper examines how the production, content and reception of the film Antony van Leeuwenhoek (1924) influenced the historical framing of science. The film features microcinematography by the pioneering Dutch filmmaker Jan Cornelis Mol (1891–1954), and was part of a dynamic process of commemorating seventeenth-century microscopy and bacteriology through an early instance of visual re-creation – a new way of using scientific material heritage, and of enabling audiences to supposedly observe the world of microscopic organisms in just the same way (...) as the Dutch scientist Antoni van Leeuwenhoek (1632–1723) had observed them for himself. Knowledge transfer concerning material culture, around both historical and contemporary instruments, was the determining factor in the microcinematography practices applied in this film. The production and experience of the film also mirrored the seventeenth-century process of experimentation, playing with optics, and visualizing an entirely new and unknown world. Unlike other biographical science films of the 1920s, Antony van Leeuwenhoek featured abstract depictions of time and movement that allowed the audience to connect the history of science with microcinematography, contributing to the memory of Van Leeuwenhoek's work as the origins of bacteriology in the process. (shrink)

Projections of Memory is an exploration of a body of innovative cinematic works that utilize their extraordinary scope to construct monuments to the imagination that promise profound transformations of vision, selfhood, and experience. This form of cinema acts as a nexus through which currents from the other arts can interpenetrate. By examining the strategies of these projects in relation to one another and to the larger historical forces that shape them--tracing the shifts and permutations of their forms and aspirations--Projections of (...) Memory remaps film history around some of its most ambitious achievements and helps to clarify the stakes of cinema as a twentieth-century art form. (shrink)

El libro de Anne Gustavsson, titulado “Ethonographic Returns. Memory Processses and Archive Film”, recupera un recorte de algunos interrogantes que acompañaron su tesis doctoral en antropología social, presentada en el año 2018. Se trata de una publicación editada en inglés dentro de una serie denominada Elements in Critical Heritage Studies de la Universidad de Cambridge, que tiene como objetivo reunir investigaciones realizadas sobre el nuevo campo de estudios críticos del patrimonio. El l...

In his temporal philosophy based on the writing of Henri Bergson, Gilles Deleuze describes duration ( durée ) as a becoming that endures in time. Reifications of this complex philosophical concept become artistically expressed, I argue, in the form and content of South African artist William Kentridge's series of 'charcoal drawings for projection.' These exhibited art works provide intriguing and illuminating 'philosophical' examples of animated audio-visual media, which expressively plicate distinct images of movement and time. The composition of Kentridge's films (...) at once illuminate a regime of animated 'movement-images' that can trace their aetiological roots to classical forms of film and animation, whilst concurrently folding in complex philosophical expressions of time as duration which invoke the crystalline 'time-image' concepts of philosophers such as Bergson and Deleuze, as well as literary authors like Marcel Proust. Over and above these co-existent regimes of movement and time, Kentridge's artistic technique and exhibition practices further expose a multifarious 'geology' of other embedded time lines that serve to enrich/complicate these temporal expressions. I argue here that diegetic time- and movement-images ostensibly co-exist alongside different 'archaeologies' of time relevant to the context and creation of the artworks. For this reason, the animated drawings formulate intriguing artistic/philosophical expressions that muse on the nature of matter, memory, time and space. (shrink)

LiDAR (Light Detection and Ranging) is a remote sensing technology. It needs no ambient light, nor the guidance of the human eye to capture and reproduce a likeness of the world around us. Although LiDAR generates a constant stream of technical literature, LiDAR images, once envisaged for their aesthetic and expressive value, seem to call for alternative modes of analysis. How do we approach the fast-expanding archive of scanner images? How do we adequately describe the intriguing, spectral visualizations that its (...) blind process of recording produces? Following a general introduction, I look at Anouk De Clerk’s filmThing(2013), a work entirely comprised of LiDAR images. De Clerk encourages us to envisage LiDAR counterintuitively, not as the product of technological novelty, but as part of an interdisciplinary history of the arts. (shrink)