Journal articles: '1899-1942' – Grafiati (2025)

Abstract:

Music by Peter Ryazanov (1899–1942), professor at the Leningrad Conservatory, educator, musicologist and folklorist, has been written by him in 1920–1930’s. In 1930’s he estranges his music from the avant-garde which he presented in the late 1920’s, and he becomes a devotee of the art which is speaking with a «clean and in high sense intelligible language».

Abstract:

Two Australian genera, Tessaromma Newman and Phlyctaenodes Newman of the tribe Phlyctaenodini Lacordaire, 1868 (=Tessarommatini Lacordaire, 1868) syn. nov. are revised. All known species are redescribed and illustrated. Keys to the genera of Australian Phlyctaenodini and species of Tessaromma Newman and Phlyctaenodes are provided. One new genus Escalonia gen. nov. (type species: Tessaromma loxleyae McKeown, 1942) and three new species Phlyctaenodes queenslandicus sp. nov., Escalonia carolinae sp. nov. and Escalonia surprise sp. nov. are described. Tessaromma truncatispina McKeown, 1940 is regarded as a junior synonym of Tessaromma sordida McKeown, 1940; Tessaromma nigroapicale Aurivillius, 1917 is synonymized with Tessaromma nanum Blackburn, 1899; and Tessaromma sericans (Erichson, 1842) is synonymized with Tessaromma triste (Hope, 1841). Tessaromma setosa McKeown, 1942 is moved to Ectinope Pascoe, and Zoedia intricata Gressitt, 1959 is moved to Escalonia gen. nov.

Abstract:

Only 62 individuals of the Przewalski’s horse (Equus przewalski) were brought from the wild to captivity during the period of the known existence of their wild population (1881 – ca. 1968), 24 males and 30 females in 1899–1903; 1 male and 4 females in 1942–1945; 1 male and 2 females in 1947. Of these horses, only 12 individuals (6 males, 6 females) from the first imports and a female from 1947 entered the global breeding programme of the Przewalski’s horse.

Abstract:

Abstract In the tribe Pyrgotini, a monophyletic lineage is considered as the subtribe Adapsiliina Rondani, 1869, revised rank; it includes the genera Adapsilia Waga, 1842, Campylocera Macquart, 1843, Euphya Wulp, 1885, Eupyrgota Coquillett, 1899, Geloemyia Hendel, 1908, Hendelpyrgota Vanschuytbroek 1963, Plectrobrachys Enderlein, 1942, Porpomastix Enderlein, 1942, Pyrgotomyia Hendel, 1934, Siridapha Enderlein, 1942, Trichopeltia Wulp, 1885, and an unnamed and unplaced genus-group taxon (represented by the group of species related to Adapsilia hirtoscutellata Hendel, 1933). Based on having at least two synapomorphies: the incomplete costa not reaching apex of medial vein, and male cerci flattened dorsoventrally, large, slightly longer and wider than epandrium, the broadest concept of the genus Campylocera Macquart, 1843 is proposed. In the Afrotropical Region, it therefore includes also all the species assigned by Steyskal (1980) to the genera Clemaxia Enderlein, 1942, Congopyrgota Aczel, 1958, syn. n., Diasteneura Hendel, 1908, syn. n., Dicrostira Enderlein, 1942, Hexamerinx Enderlein, 1942, Hypotyphla Loew, 1873, syn. n., Hypotyphlina Enderlein, 1942, syn. n., Lygiohypotyphla Enderlein, 1942, and Prohypotyphla Hendel, 1934, syn. n. The other important characters of Campylocera are the low epistome, subocular sclerite well expressed, and femoral organ on female mid femur always lacking. The following synonymy is established: Campylocera ferruginea Macquart, 1843 = Prohypotyphla omissa Hendel, 1934, syn. n.; Campylocera hyalipennis (Aczel, 1958, comb. n.) = Congopyrgota hyalipennis Aczel, 1958 = Congopyrgota kivuensis Vanschuytbroeck, 1963, syn. n. = Congopyrgota ethiopica Steyskal, 1972, syn. n.; Campylocera latigenis Hendel, 1914 = Prohypotyphla obtusicornis Hendel, 1934, syn. n. = Dicrostira partitigena Enderlein, 1942, syn. n.; Campylocera loewi (Hendel, 1908), comb. n. = Hypotyphla loewi Hendel, 1908 = Prohypotyphla (Hypotyphlina) saegeri Aczel, 1958, syn. n.; Campylocera caudata (Hendel, 1914), comb. n. = Hypotyphla caudata Hendel, 1914 = Lygiohypotyphla hyalipennis Vanschuytbroeck, 1963, syn. n. = Lygiohypotyphla ruwenzoriensis Vanschuytbroeck, 1963, syn. n.; Campylocera basilewskyi (Vanschuytbroeck, 1963), comb. n. (= Diasteneura basilewskyi Vanschuytbroeck, 1963), Campylocera laticeps (Hendel, 1908), comb. n. (= Diasteneura laticeps Hendel, 1908), Campylocera obscura (Vanschuytbroeck, 1963), comb. n. (= Diasteneura obscura Vanschuytbroeck, 1963), Campylocera similis (Steyskal, 1963), comb. n. (= Diasteneura similis Steyskal, 1963), Campylocera variceps (Curran, 1928), comb. n. (= Diasteneura variceps Curran, 1928), Campylocera nigripennis (Hendel, 1934) comb. n. (= Prohypotyphla nigripennis Hendel, 1934), Campylocera scalaris (Hendel, 1934) comb. n. (= Prohypotyphla scalaris Hendel, 1934).

Abstract:

Cestodes from four badgers (Meles meles) and eight raccoons (Procyon lotor) were studied. The badgers and seven of the raccoons were taken from the wild near the city of Berlin, Germany. This paper is the first record of Atriotaenia incisa (Railliet, 1899) (Cestoda: Anoplocephalidae) from P. lotor in Europe. Atriotaenia incisa is redescribed and compared with morphological descriptions of the North American species Atriotaenia procyonis (Chandler, 1942), a common parasite of the raccoon in Canada and the United States. No morphological differences were found between the two species and it is suggested that they may be conspecific.

Abstract:

Summary Historiographers of linguistics have frequently pointed out the presence of the Humboldtian term ‘inner form’ in Franz Boas’ (1858–1942) work on linguistic categorization and have suggested a link to Heymann Steinthal’s (1823–1899) Völkerpsychologie and psycholinguistics. This essay demonstrates, however, that Boas’ discourse on the inner form of language, grammatical categories, and the human mind did not develop in a unilinear fashion from the work of Steinthal. Although Boas adhered to a Steinthalian notion of inner form of language and linguistic relativism and his research on Native American languages was initially guided by Steinthal’s criteria ‘form’ and ‘material,’ Boas’ texts also exhibit some disontinuities with Steinthal’s work, and they carry traces linking his linguistics to the work of Adolf Bastian (1826–1905), Theodor Waitz (1826–1864), Herbert Spencer (1820–1903), Wilhelm Wundt (1832–1920), and Daniel Garrison Brinton (1837–1899). Boas strategically distanced his discourse from the hierarchical thinking underlying the work of Steinthal, Spencer, and Wundt. As part of this distancing strategy, Boas shifted from Herbartian psychology, informing his early phonetic theory, to an associationist framework, and he postulated a universal mental faculty of abstraction as a necessary condition for human language to arise. Boas also introduced the concept of ‘coordinate elements’ in morphology, and he assumed the existence of universal relational functions in the languages of the world.

Abstract:

A list of primary types for the superorder Neuropterida, held in the National Museums of Scotland Entomology Collection, is presented. The list provides the original name, the current valid combination to which the species is presently assigned, as well as the quoted label data and statements concerning the condition of the specimens. Holotypes of the following taxa are present: Brevibarbis waterstoni Tjeder & Hansson, 1992; Ptyngidricerus venustus Tjeder & Waterston, 1977; Chrysopa tigridis Morton, 1921; Boriomyia persica Morton, 1921; Sympherobius sanctus Tjeder, 1940; Gepus buxtoni Morton, 1921; Nelees mesopotamiae Morton, 1921; Apocroce spuria Tjeder, 1975; Parasicyoptera guichardi Tjeder, 1974. Syntypes of the following taxa are present: Sialis morio Klingstedt, 1933; Hemerobius contumax Tjeder, 1932; Hemerobius eatoni Morton, 1906; Hemerobius fenestratus Tjeder, 1932; Kimminsia killingtoni Morton, in Fraser 1942; Macronemurus delicatulus Morton, 1926. A lectotype is present for Hemerobius mortoni McLachlan, 1899.

Abstract:

In this first part of the World catalogue of genus-group names in Elateridae, a nomenclatural review of the genera belonging to ten subfamilies is provided. All names are given with author name, year, and page of publication, type species, and type fixation. We list 132 valid genera in Agrypninae, 2 in Campyloxeninae, 4 in Hemiopinae, 11 in Lissominae, 2 in Oestodinae, 8 in Parablacinae, 2 in Physodactylinae, 2 in Pityobiinae, 1 in Subprotelaterinae, and 7 in Tetralobinae. GeneraAnathesisCandèze, 1865,AntitypusCandèze, 1882,ChrostusCandèze, 1878,DorygonusCandèze, 1859 (with subgenus Rygodonus Fleutiaux, 1932), andMacromaloceraHope, 1834 are tentatively placed as Agrypninaeincertae sedis.ParadrapetesvillosusFleutiaux, 1895 is designated as the type species forParadrapetesFleutiaux, 1895. Two new genera are proposed based on species previously incorrectly used as type species forAbiphisFleutiaux, 1926 andLycoreusCandèze, 1857. These genera areNeoabiphisKundrata & Bouchard,gen. n.(type species:ElaternobilisIlliger, 1800) andNeolycoreusKundrata & Bouchard,gen. n.(type species:L.regalisCandèze, 1857), respectively. The following new combinations are proposed for species hitherto included inAbiphisFleutiaux, 1926:Neoabiphiscandezei(Alluaud, 1896),comb. n.,N.fairmairei(Fleutiaux, 1903),comb. n.,N.goudoti(Fleutiaux, 1942),comb. n.,N.insignis(Klug, 1833),comb. n.,N.nobilis(Illiger, 1800),comb. n., andN.viettei(Girard, 1966),comb. n.The following new combinations are proposed for species hitherto included inLycoreusCandèze, 1857:Neolycoreusalluaudi(Candèze, 1900),comb. n.,N.corpulentus(Candèze, 1899),comb. n.,N.cyclops(Candèze, 1865),comb. n.,N.decorsei(Fleutiaux, 1903),comb. n.,N.dux(Candèze, 1857),comb. n.,N.goudotii(Laporte, 1838),comb. n.,N.madagascariensis(Gory, 1832),comb. n.,N.oculipennis(Fairmaire, 1903),comb. n.,N.orbiculatus(Schwarz, 1901),comb. n.,N.regalis(Candèze, 1857),comb. n.,N.sicardi(Fleutiaux, 1942),comb. n.,N.triangularis(Fleutiaux, 1942),comb. n.,N.triocellatus(Laporte, 1838),comb. n., andN.vicinus(Fleutiaux, 1942),comb. n.The following new combinations are proposed for species hitherto incorrectly included inPlectrosternusLacordaire, 1857:Legnarufa(Lacordaire, 1857),comb. n.,L.convexa(Vats, 1991),comb. n.,L.coolsi(Schimmel, 1996),comb. n., andL.foveata(Patwardhan & Athalye, 2012),comb. n.This research revealed a nomenclatural problem threatening the stability of the well-established valid genus nameAdeloceraLatreille, 1829. An application to the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature will be necessary in this case to maintain stability. Additionally, we act here as First Revisers (ICZN 1999, Art. 24.2) in giving precedence toLucariusGistel, 1848 (Staphylinidae) overLucariusGistel, 1848 (Elateridae).

Abstract:

Francien van Anrooij, De koloniale staat 1854-1942; Gids voor het archief van het ministerie van Koloniën; De Indonesische archipel. Jan Derix, Brengers van de Boodschap; Geschiedenis van de katholieke missionering vanuit Nederland van VOC tot Vaticanum II. Bert L.T. van der Linden, Nou… tabé dan!; De ‘bootreis’ naar Indië met de Rotterdamsche Lloyd en de ‘Nederland’ tussen 1899 en 1949. Harm Stevens, Jos Stoopman en Pauljac Verhoeven (red.), De laatste Batakkoning; Koloniale kroniek in documenten 1883-1911. Meta Knol, Remco Raben en Kitty Zijlmans (red.), Beyond the Dutch; Indonesië, Nederland en de beeldende kunsten van 1900 tot nu. Hans van Wessel (eindredactie), Indische sporen; Bronnen voor lerarenopleiders. Van Nederlandsch Indië tot Indonesië. Samenstelling Hans van den Berg. 2 dvd’s, 222’. Nederlands-Indië in de Tweede Wereldoorlog. Samenstelling René Kok. Strijd om Indië; Het Nederlands-Indonesische conflict 1945-1949. Samenstelling René Kok Sjahrir, een grondlegger van het onafhankelijke Indonesië; Soetan Sjahrir 1909-1966. Den Haag: Stichting Vrienden van Linggadjati. Rita Young en Zwaan de Vries, Oorlog en overleven buiten Japanse kampen; Drie generaties vertellen… Beatrijs van Agt, Florine Koning, Esther Tak en Esther Wils, Het verborgen verhaal; Indische Nederlanders in oorlogstijd 1942-1949. Florine Koning, De Pasar Malam van Tong Tong, een Indische onderneming. Piet Sanders, Herinneringen. Wouter Meijer, ‘Ze zijn gék geworden in Den Haag’; Willem Oltmans en de kwestie Nieuw-Guinea. Edwin Oden, De man van 8 miljoen; Vriend & vijand over het fantastische leven van Willem Oltmans 1925-2004. Albert Kersten, met medewerking van Frits Bergman, Luns, een politieke biografie. Jacob Vredenbregt, Terugzien en nakaarten; Zestig jaar ooggetuige in Indonesië. Melati van Java, Fernand. Met een inleiding van Vilan van de Loo. Annie Foore, Bogoriana; Roman uit Indië. Met een inleiding van Vilan van de Loo. Mina Kruseman, Een huwelijk in Indië. Met een inleiding van Vilan van de Loo.

Abstract:

The taxonomy and natural history of the ant genus Crematogaster are reviewed for the Costa Rican fauna. Thirtyone species are known, and a key is provided for these and two additional species from adjacent regions of Panama. Species boundaries are evaluated over their entire range when possible. The taxonomic history of the genus is one of unbridled naming of new species and subspecies, with no synthetic works or keys. Major taxonomic changes are proposed, with the recognition of several polytypic species with very broad ranges and the synonymization of the many names associated with them. Crematogaster pygmaea Forel 1904, suturalis Forel 1912, ornatipilis Wheeler 1918, erici Santschi 1929, and chacoana Santschi 1933 are synonymized under abstinens Forel 1899; centralis Santschi 1932 under acuta (Fabricius 1804); aruga Forel 1913 under arcuata Forel 1899; ludio Forel 1912, armandi Forel 1921, inca Wheeler 1925, and cocciphila Borgmeier 1934 under brasiliensis Mayr 1878; parabiotica Forel 1904 under carinata Mayr 1862; brevispinosa Mayr 1870, minutior Forel 1893, schuppi Forel 1901, recurvispina Forel 1912, sampaioi Forel 1912, striatinota Forel 1912, townsendi Wheeler 1925, and chathamensis Wheeler 1933 under crinosa Mayr 1862; barbouri Weber 1934 under cubaensis Mann 1920; antillana Forel 1893, sculpturata Pergande 1896, kemali Santschi 1923, accola Wheeler 1934, phytoeca Wheeler 1934, panamana Wheeler 1942, and obscura Santschi 1929 under curvispinosa Mayr 1870; descolei Kusnezov 1949 under distans Mayr 1870; projecta Santschi 1925 under erecta Mayr 1866; carbonescens Forel 1913 under evallans Forel 1907; palans Forel 1912, ascendens Wheeler 1925, and dextella Santschi 1929 under limata F. Smith 1858; agnita Wheeler 1934 under obscurata Emery 1895; amazonensis Forel 1905, autruni Mann 1916, and guianensis Crawley 1916 under stollii Forel 1885; surdior Forel 1885, atitlanica Wheeler 1936, and maya Wheeler 1936 under sumichrasti Mayr 1870; tumulifera Forel 1899 and arizonensis Wheeler 1908 under torosa Mayr 1870. The following taxa are raised to species: ampla Forel 1912, brevidentata Forel 1912, chodati Forel 1921, crucis Forel 1912, cubaensis Mann 1920, goeldii Forel 1903, malevolens Santschi 1919, mancocapaci Santschi 1911, moelleri Forel 1912, montana Borgmeier 1939, obscurata Emery 1895, rochai Forel 1903, russata Wheeler 1925, sericea Forel 1912, stigmatica Forel 1911, sub-tonsa Santschi 1925, tenuicula Forel 1904, thalia Forel 1911, uruguayensis Santschi 1912, and vicina Andre 1893. The following new species are described: bryophilia, flavomicrops, flavosensitiva, foliocrypta, jardinero, levior, monteverdensis, raptor, snellingi, sotobosque, and wardi.

Abstract:

Summary Noam Chomsky’s frequent references to the work of Wilhelm von Humboldt during the 1960s produced a considerable revival of interest in this 19th-century scholar in North America. This paper demonstrates that there has been a long-standing influence of Humboldt’s ideas on American linguistics and that no ‘rediscovery’ was required. Although Humboldt’s first contacts with North-American scholars goes back to 1803, the present paper is confined to the posthumous phase of his influence which begins with the work of Heymann Steinthal (1823–1899) from about 1850 onwards. This was also a time when many young Americans went to Germany to complete their education; for instance William Dwight Whitney (1827–1894) spent several years at the universities of Tübingen and Berlin (1850–1854), and in his writings on general linguistics one can trace Humboldtian ideas. In 1885 Daniel G. Brinton (1837–1899) published an English translation of a manuscript by Humboldt on the structure of the verb in Amerindian languages. A year later Franz Boas (1858–1942) arrived from Berlin soon to establish himself as the foremost anthropologist with a strong interest in native language and culture. From then on we encounter Humboldtian ideas in the work of a number of North American anthropological linguists, most notably in the work of Edward Sapir (1884–1939). This is not only true with regard to matters of language classification and typology but also with regard to the philosophy of language, specifically, the relationship between a particular language structure and the kind of thinking it reflects or determines on the part of its speakers. Humboldtian ideas of ‘linguistic relativity’, enunciated in the writings of Whitney, Brinton, Boas, and others, were subsequently developed further by Sapir’s student Benjamin Lee Whorf (1897–1941). The transmission of the so-called Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis – which still today is attracting interest among cultural anthropologists and social psychologists, not only in North America – is the focus of the remainder of the paper. A general Humboldtian approach to language and culture, it is argued, is still present in the work of Dell Hymes and several of his students.

Abstract:

The paper provides data on the current location of the type specimens of lacertid lizard's taxa described by herpetologist Georgy F. Sukhov (1899–1942), as at July 1, 2020: Lacerta agilis tauridica Suchow, 1927 (lectotype [here designated] — ZISP No 12620, paralectotypes — ZISP No 3226, 3235, 3238, 3856, 10366в, 12230, 12231, 12520, 12619, 14110, NMNH No 2152 (14599–14600), 2163 (14621–14622), 2172 (14705–14712), 2184 (14772–14773), 2184 (14774–14777), 2188 (14872–14893), 2279 (15983–16037), 2279 (16038–16074), 2518 (16621)), Lacerta boemica Suchow, 1929 (lectotype [here designated] — ZISP No 30363, paralectotypes — ZISP No 16210, 30358-30362, 30364-30398.1, NHM No 1960.1.4.26–30, 1965.337–342, NMNO no No), Apathya cappadocica urmiana Lantz et Suchow, 1934 (holotype — ZISP No 12657b, paratypes — ZISP No 11444, 12657а, с, 12658), Lacerta princeps kurdistanica Suchow, 1936 (holotype — ZISP No 11441.1, paratypes — ZISP No 11440, 11441.2–4, 11442, 11443). According to the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature (4th edition), the name Lacerta agilis caucasica Suchow, 1927 should be considered as a junior primary homonym of Lacerta caucasica Méhely, 1909, and the designation of the neotype of L. a. tauridica by Kalyabina-Hauf et al. must be rejected. The history of description of taxa as well as a list of Sukhov’s publications (12 articles published in 1927–1948) are given. Localities, collector’s names and dates of capture of the type specimens are clarified. Anderson and Šmíd et al. indicated that Eiselt restricted the type locality of L. princeps kurdistanica; this is not true.

Abstract:

The Nazi looting of works of art and cultural goods during 1933–1945 is usually divided into institutionalized and unauthorized, that is, wild one. The former was conducted by state and party special organizations and authorities, while the latter, widespread extensively in the east, was practiced by many Germans on their own account. The author suggests introducing a separate category of “specialized looting”, encompassing those who engaged in looting with full awareness – on their own account and/or on commission – and who were proficient in evaluation of the artistic goods and knew where and in whose possession they could be found. In the Reich and in occupied France and Holland there were many such expert robbers. In Poland their number remained small after the initial wave of official confiscations. The most notable exception was the Dutchman, Pieter Nicolaas Menten (1899–1987), who after the war became one of the wealthiest citizens of Holland and owner of a private art collection unavailable to the public. The scope, character, and methods of the looting conducted by Menten for his private use in Kraków and Lvov during the German occupation between early 1940 and the end of 1942 make him a very special case in the history of Nazi looting. These aspects are analyzed on the basis of extensive archival materials and evidence collected in Holland and Poland during the investigations and trials against Menten (the first one took place in the late 1940s and was followed by next ones in the late 1970s), who was accused of collaboration with the Germans and the massacre of Jewish inhabitants of the Galician villages of Urycz and Podhorodce in the summer of 1941. Menten was never sentenced for the looting of works of art in Kraków, where he was an appointed forced administrator of four Jewish artistic salons, or in Lvov, where he appropriated art collections and furnishings of several Lvov professors murdered on 4 July 1941. He was never found guilty even though when in January 1943 he left the General Government and went to Holland he took – with Himmler’s special permission – four railway carriages of valuable works of art, gold and silverware, antique furniture, and Oriental rugs. The post-war collection of works of art in Menten’s possession wasn’t liable to confiscation under Dutch law and has become dispersed.

Abstract:

This paper collects taxonomic changes in the families Hydrachnidae, Limnocharidae and Eylaidae which become necessary following revision of material from museum collections and recent field work. The following synonyms are established: Family Hydrachnidae, genus Hydrachna: The subgenera Anohydrachna Thor, 1916, Diplohydrachna Thor, 1916, Rhabdohydrachna K. Viets, 1931 are synonyms of Hydrachna s.str.; H. globosa neumani Lundblad, 1962a, and H. globosa rotundata Láska, 1964, are synonyms of H. globosa (De Geer, 1778); H. halberti Soar, 1908, H. levis Williamson, 1913 and H. levis acuminata K.O. Viets, 1954 are synonyms of H. incisa Halbert, 1903; H. perpera Koenike, 1908 is a synonym of H. processifera Koenike, 1903; H. skorikowi integra K. Viets, 1930 is a synonym of H. schneideri Koenike, 1895. Family Eylaidae, genus E ylais: E. bisinuosa nodipons K. Viets, 1919 is a synonym of E. bisinuosa Piersig, 1899; E. rimosa proceripalpis K. Viets, 1930 is a synonym of E. mutila Koenike, 1897; E. puripons K.Viets, 1930, E. bisinuosa oligotricha Lundblad, 1936, E. planipons novata K. Viets 1942 and E. canariensis Lundblad, 1962b are synonyms of E. planipons Walter, 1924. The following species must be regarded species incertae: Family Hydrachnidae, genus Hydrachna: H. aspratilis Koenike, 1897, H. bivirgulata Piersig, 1897a, H. brehmi Szalay, 1955, H. denudata Piersig, 1896, H. inermis Piersig, 1895, H. levigata Koenike, 1897, H. papilligera K. Viets, 1919, H. piersigi Koenike, 1897, H. regulifera Koenike, 1908, H. williamsoni Soar, 1908. Family Eylaidae, Eylais glubokensis Udalzov, 1907. The geographical origin of Hydrachna extorris Koenike, 1897, probably collected outside Europe, is unclear.

Abstract:

Matylda Stefania Anna Ustjanowicz przyszła na świat 12 marca 1875 r. w Szczakowej nieopodal Chrzanowa. Celem otrzymania wykształcenia została wysłana do szkoły ss. niepokalanek w Niżniowie, gdzie ukończyła szkołę powszechną i średnią, prowadzoną wg koncepcji wychowawczej założycielki Zgromadzenia Sióstr Niepokalanego Poczęcia NMP – Marceliny Darowskiej. W latach 1893–1894 Matylda Ustjanowicz przygotowywała się pod okiem sióstr do zawodu nauczycielki domowej. W 1894 r. złożyła egzamin maturalny w Państwowym Seminarium Nauczycielskim Żeńskim we Lwowie. W kolejnych latach pracowała jako nauczyciela domowa. Dnia 7 grudnia 1899 r. Matylda Ustjanowicz wstąpiła do Zgromadzenia Sióstr Niepokalanego Poczęcia NMP w Jazłowcu. Przyjęła imię zakonne Zofia od Serca Jezusowego. Śluby wieczyste złożyła 5 maja 1907 r. Przed wybuchem I wojny światowej pracowała jako mistrzyni internatu i kierowniczka zakładu naukowo-wychowawczego w Niżniowie, w latach 1909–1920 była przełożoną tamtejszego klasztoru. Podczas I wojny światowej w zabudowaniach tegoż funkcjonował lazaret wojenny, gdzie pod czujnym okiem s. Zofii zakonnice niosły pomoc rannym, chorym i umierającym. W latach dwudziestolecia międzywojennego s. Zofia pracowała jako nauczycielka i dyrektorka w szkołach średnich Zgromadzenia w Nowym Sączu i Jarosławiu. W tym czasie dokształcała się na licznych kursach katechetycznych, w 1927 r. złożyła egzamin na nauczyciela szkół średnich w zakresie historii. W 1934 r. została zatwierdzona na stanowisko dyrektorki Prywatnego Seminarium Nauczycielskiego Zgromadzenia w Maciejowie, w sierpniu 1939 r. objęła przełożeństwo klasztoru w tymże. W 1938 r. została uhonorowana Złotym Krzyżem Zasługi na polu szkolnictwa prywatnego. W kwietniu 1942 r. s. Zofia otrzymała polecenie objęcia stanowiska zastępczyni przełożonej, a następnie administratorki klasztoru w Nowym Sączu. W maju 1944 r. wróciła do Niżniowa. Zginęła śmiercią męczeńską, zamordowana przez nacjonalistów ukraińskich, 23 sierpnia 1944 r., w Rusiłowie nieopodal Jazłowca.

Abstract:

As part of a current revision of the Australasian and Pacific orb-weaving spider fauna (family Araneidae Clerck, 1757), a number new combinations are proposed in the generaAcroaspisKarsch, 1878 (3 species),CarepalxisL. Koch, 1872 (1 species),CyclosaMenge, 1866 (5 species), andNeosconaSimon, 1864 (7 species):Acroaspislancearia(Keyserling, 1887),comb. n.,A.mamillana(Keyserling, 1887),comb. n.,A.scutifer(Keyserling, 1886),comb. n.,Carepalxisfurcifera(Keyserling, 1886),comb. n.;Cyclosaanatipes(Keyserling, 1887),comb. n.;Cyclosaapoblepta(Rainbow, 1916),comb. n.;Cyclosaargentaria(Rainbow, 1916),comb. n.;Cyclosalichensis(Rainbow, 1916),comb. n.;Cyclosapoweri(Rainbow, 1916),comb. n.;Neosconadecolor(L. Koch, 1871),comb. n.;Neosconaenucleata(Karsch, 1879),comb. n.;Neosconaflavopunctata(L. Koch, 1871),comb. n.;Neosconafloriata(Hogg, 1914),comb. n.;Neosconagranti(Hogg, 1914),comb. n.;Neosconainusta(L. Koch, 1871),comb. n.; andNeosconanotanda(Rainbow, 1912),comb. n.The following two Australian species, currently placed inAraneus, are not Araneidae but comb-footed spiders (family Theridiidae Sundevall, 1833):Anelosimusdianiphus(Rainbow, 1916),comb. n.andTheridionxanthostichus(Rainbow, 1916),stat. and comb. n.The following six species are considerednumina dubiaas their type material is immature or otherwise unidentifiable (e.g. partly destroyed):AraneusacachmenusRainbow, 1916;AraneusagastusRainbow, 1916;AraneusexsertusRainbow, 1904;AraneussuavisRainbow, 1899;Carepalxiscoronata(Rainbow, 1896); andHeurodesturritusKeyserling, 1886.Heurodesfratellus(Chamberlin, 1924) is considered anomen dubiumandHeurodesporcula(Simon, 1877) is returned toEriovixiaArcher, 1951,Eriovixiaporcula(Simon, 1877).Type material of predominantly Australian species described by E. v. Keyserling (1 species), W. J. Rainbow (10 species), A. T. Urquhart (8 species), and C. A. Walckenaer (2 species) is here considered destroyed or otherwise lost. As it is impossible to identify these species from their original descriptions and considering the known spider fauna from their respective type localities, they are all considerednumina dubia:AnepsiacrinitaRainbow, 1893;Epeiradiabrosis(Walckenaer, 1841);EpeiradiversicolorRainbow, 1893;EpeirafictaRainbow, 1896;EpeirahamiltoniRainbow, 1893;Epeiralacrymosa(Walckenaer, 1841);EpeiraleaiRainbow, 1894;EpeiramortoniUrquhart, 1891;EpeiranotacephalaUrquhart, 1891;EpeiraobscurtaUrquhart, 1893;EpeiraphalerataUrquhart, 1893;EpeirapronubaRainbow, 1894;EpeirararaKeyserling, 1887;EpeirasingularaUrquhart, 1891;Epeirasub-flavidaUrquhart, 1893;EpeirasimilarisRainbow, 1896 (=AraneusurquhartiRoewer, 1942 replacement name);EpeiraventriosaUrquhart, 1891; andEpeiraviridulaUrquhart, 1891.

Abstract:

Summary Franz Boas’ (1858–1942) Statements on phonetics can only be appreciated adequately if they are read against the background of 19th-century experimental psychology, acoustics, physiology, and psychophysics. This paper demonstrates that Boas adhered to a theory of phonetics which included a physical and a psychological component. The former component was informed by contemporary ideas on phonetics put forward by Hermann Helmholtz (1821–1894), Wilhelm Wundt (1832–1920), Hermann Paul (1846–1921), and Mikołaj Kruszewski (1851–1887). Within this component, Boas included the production of speech sounds, their acoustical nature, and the mechanical workings of the ear. For Boas, speech-sounds were averages consisting of groups of oscillations which gave each sound its peculiar character. The ear analyzed speech-sounds into their component groups of oscillations, and the resulting sensations were individually transmitted into consciousness. The psychological component of Boas’ theory was influenced by Gustav Fechner’s (1801–1887) psychophysics, and it was initially based on Herbartian psychology. This second component included mental representations (Vorstellungen) of sounds, the process of apperception, and Fechner’s law of thresholds (Schwellengesetz). Boas’ theory presupposed a model of the mind as machine in which the ear was seen as a mechanical extension of the mind. Within this mechanical model of the mind, the recognition of speech-sounds was deterministically governed by the law of thresholds and the process of apperception. The interaction of the law of thresholds with the process of apperception was responsible for the phenomenon of alternating sounds. With the help of his theory, Boas countered positions which considered such seemingly fluctuating sounds as the hallmark of ‘primitive’ languages. In order to distance himself from Heymann Steinthal’s (1823–1899) Eurocentric linguistics, which was rooted in the Herbartian tradition, Boas later abandoned his Herbartian framework in favor of an associationist theory of psychology.

Abstract:

Abstract Vol. 39: p. 527. In the article by N. E. Morrissey, S. F. Quadri, R. Kinders, C. Brigham, S. Rose, and M. J. Blend entitled "Modified method for determining carcinoembryonic antigen in the presence of anti-murine antibodies," 1993;39:522-9, the graphs A and B in the left-hand column of page 527 should be exchanged with graphs A and B in the right-hand column, so that the legend for Figure 2 refers to graphs for two HAMA-negative patients and the legend for Figure 3 refers to three HAMA-positive patients. p. 1401. In the article by J. M. Queraltó, J. C. Boyd, and E. K. Harris entitled "On the calculation of reference change values, with examples from a long-term study," 1993;39:1398-403, the last two columns of Table 4 are incorrect: in the next-to-last column, a misprint occurred in the line for sodium; in the last column, a number was omitted, causing other numbers to be misplaced. The columns should have read as follows: See table in the PDF file p. 1901. In the Scientific Note by R. G. Parsons, R. Kowal, D. LeBlond, V. T. Yue, L. Neargarder, L. Bond, D. Garcia, D. Slater, and P. Rogers, entitled "Multianalyte assay system developed for drugs of abuse," 1993;39:1899-903, the word "trihexylphenidyl" in line 1 of the text in column 2, page 1901, should read "trihexyphenidyl." p. 1942. In Oak Ridge Conference paper by R. Devlin, R. M. Studholme, W. D. Dandliker, K. Blumeyer, and S. S. Ghosh, entitled "Homogeneous detection of nucleic acids by transientstate polarized fluorescence," 1993;39:1939-43, the x-axis for Figure 5 should read: "Volume of 3SR product solution (1O-4 x µL)," not (10-3 x µL). p. 1982. In the Oak Ridge Conference Poster Session, the paper by D. Crisan, M. J. Anstett, N. Matta, and D. H. Farkas entitled "Detection of bcl-2 oncogene rearrangement in follicular lymphoma: nucleic acid hybridization and polymerase chain reaction compared," 1993;39:1980-2, the word "bone" in the first line at the top of page 1982 should have read "bone marrow."

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At the end of 19th century, the financial powers of a famous Lithuanian family, the counts Tyszkiewicz, encouraged a major re-construction and development of their manors, and allowed creating (with the assistance of well-known European architects) unique landscape views in the towns of Lentvaris, Palanga, Traku Voke, and Uzutrakis. All of these architecture ensembles have the common heritage of great landscaped parks by a famous French landscape architect Edouard André (1840–1911) and his son René André (1867–1942). This article discusses all four parks, which are considered to be significant resources of recreation and culture tourism and important cultural and natural heritage. These residences of family Tysz- kiewicz were to be in places of natural beauty and landscape exceptional. Publications regarding parks in Lithuania created by E. and R. André are numerous. However, the authors of this overview examined these ensembles with the view of cultural and artistic development, and will discuss here the aspects and trends of the complex uses of these manors and parks. It is particularly interesting to consult the book of E. André General Treaty of the Composition of Parks and Gardens, published by Masson in 1879, in which E. André covered all aspects of the business, still receives attention from landscapers today as much as it outlines the new directions of the profession. Major works by landscaper intended to create natural and picturesque (pittoresque) effects, to used ripraps, flows of water, waterfalls, balustrades and areas of greenery as viewing points, to contrast the methods used. It is particularly interesting to consult the letters and logbooks of René André, and article about the Palanga Park at Revue horticole on 1906, which contain many allusions and remarks to different Lithuanian park’s construction works in 1898–1899. In 1898 young Belgian landscape architect Jules Buyssens (1872–1958) was called upon to direct the construction works in Palanga and other places. The reliable Boisard, responsible for the ripraps, rockworks in the different parks, accompanied him. Not all of the concepts of the creators have been successfully realized in these manors; some visions blurred in the events of the 20th century. But currently, the existing elements of these ensembles, the actualized projects, and research, collectively permit reconstruction of these ensembles, adapting them for today’s leisure and recreational purposes. Résumé Dans cet article nous présentons nos recherches faites sur les parcs en Lituanie, conçus par Edouard André (1840–1911) et son fils René André (1867–1942). En Lituanie nous en comptons quatre, tous dans les anciens domaines de la famille noble et riche de Tyszkewicz à Lentvaris, Palanga, Traku Voké et Uzutrakis. Ces parcs représentent le patrimoine de l’art des jardins de la fin de 19ème siècle à la composition mixte. Tous les quatre parcs sont bien adaptés aux conditions géographiques, climatiques, orthographiques des lieux. Un traité «L’art des jardins…» écrit par Édouard André et publié en 1879 chez éditeur parisien Masson, réédité par Laf- fitte à Marseille en 1986, servait du socle pour étudier et com- prendre des sources et les motivations du créateur des parcs. Le maître E. André a écrit : «il faut chercher l’effetpittoresque avant tout». Ce grand architecte paysagiste et botaniste avait bien conçu ses projets en empruntant des fonds du paysage, en proposant les vues sur la mer Baltique à Palanga, sur les lacs à Lentvaris et Uzutrakis, en créant et multipliant des scènes aquatiques et de rochers dans le milieu des parcs, en utilisant les plantations indigènes et apportées. Les parterres de broder- ies ou fleuristes autours des palais et chateaux sont encore visibles dans tous les parcs. Les spécialistes des parcs peuvent consulter une autre source sur la création du parc à Palanga – un article de René André dans la «Revue horticole» en 1906. Cet article, illustré d’une vue à vol d’oiseau en chromolithographie ainsi que les plans aquarellés des parcs de Lentvaris et de Palanga nous apportent encore des précisions. Les lettres, la correspondance retrouvée ainsi que des carnets de route de René André présentés par nos collègues français nous permettent de comprendre le circuit des voyages professionnels, de dater avec précision bon nombre de chantiers chez les comtes Tyszkiewicz en 1898–1899. Selon des avis de famille André et des lettres d’époque les parcs en Lituanie sont exécutés par les spécialistes de l’équipe d André : les rochers par Boisard et les plantations – par jeune paysagiste belge Jules Buyssens (1872–1958), le dernier, un collaborateur d’André a travaillé en Lituanie beaucoup plus. En donnant l’analyse de la création d’E.André, de la rétrospective du développement nous présentons la vision ainsi que les suggestions sur les parcs des anciens domaines à Lentvaris, Palanga, Trakų Vokė et Užutrakis. Le développement de la ville de Vilnius ainsi que la ville de Palanga impose pour les parcs son habitude, son mouvement des visiteurs. Dans ce bijou des jardins, comme dans tous les anciens parcs et jardins, nous trouverons le patrimoine scientifique, artistique, éducatif ainsi qu’écologique et récréatif. La qualité de la vision de grand professionnel fait que certains lieux destinés au moment de leur création à une clientele privée, exigeante et fortunée, ont pu être réappropriés depuis lors par le grand public et se sont adaptés à leur nouvelle fonction avec souplesse. Le parc botanique de Palanga en est un vivant témoin en Lituanie. Il faut suivre dans les autres parcs. La situation naturelle et géographique dans les trois parcs à côté de Vilnius est extrêmement privilégiée et les rend susceptibles de devenir des vecteurs de tourisme de qualité. Santrauka Lietuvoje turime keturis tarptautinės reikšmės kraštovaizdžio architektūros paveldo objektus žymaus prancūzų kraštovaizdžio architekto Eduardo Andrė (1840–1911) su sūnumi Renė Andrė (1867–1942) XIX a. pab. kurtus parkus grafų Tiškevičių dvaruose Lentvaryje, Palangoje, Trakų Vokėje ir Užutrakyje. Visi jie, nežiūrint skirtingo likimo ir skirtingos priežiūros, išsaugojo žymaus parkų kūrėjo raiškos dvasią, kompozicijos principus, meninius akcentus ir netgi detales. Tai nuostabus kultūros paveldas ir ekonominis (kultūrinio turizmo, rekreacijos) bei edukacinis išteklius. Šio paveldo pažinimas nuolat auga, plečiasi, atskleidžia naujų klodų ir įžvalgų. 2011 m., minėdami garsaus parkų kūrėjo Eduardo Andrė (1840–1911) šimtąsias mirties metines, turime puikią progą ir pareigą apibendrinti naujausius tyrinėjimus, pirmiausia remdamiesi archyvinės (ikonografinės, autentiškų tekstų, užrašų) medžiagos ir natūros tyrimais bei publikacijomis. Turime galimybę panagrinėti XIX a. pabaigos laiškus ir užrašus, eskizus ir parkų planus, sudarytus parkų kūrėjų ranka. Naujausiais tyrimais ir ankstesnių inventorizacijų medžiagos analize paremta studija turėtų būti svarbi parkotyros ir parkotvarkos metodologijai ir padėti formuluoti rekomendacijas šio kraštovaizdžio architektūros paveldo apsaugos ir gaivinimo projektams.

Abstract:

As a conceptual framework, UNRRA referred to one of the four freedoms (freedom from want) mentioned by Franklin D. Roosevelt in a speech given in Congress on January 6, 1946. In the first section, the article presents early attempts to coordinate assistance for the civilian population during World War II (The Committee of Supplies and The Inter-Allied Committee on European Post-War Requirements). The scale of actions taken was very small and insufficient. In January 1942, the USSR proposed the creation of an international organization that would collect information on raw materials and food. This initiative prompted Washington and London to launch a separate competitive project. The organization’s task was to bring help until the state gained economic independence. Therefore, the organization’s goal was not to rebuild the areas affected by war damage in the long term (rehabilitation not reconstruction). In the main part, the article presents the basic issues in dispute when creating the principle of allocating aid, for example, the requirement of consent of the receiving state to receive gifts or the composition of organs of the organization. For this purpose, the exchange of notes between Washington and London was analyzed. Differences of opinions delayed the signing of the contract which did not take place until November 1943.

Abstract:

Changes to the treatment of Coleoptera family-group names published by Bouchard et al. (2011) are given. These include necessary additions and corrections based on much-appreciated suggestions from our colleagues, as well as our own research. Our ultimate goal is to assemble a complete list of available Coleoptera family-group names published up to the end of 2010 (including information about their spelling, author, year of publication, and type genus). The following 59 available Coleoptera family-group names are based on type genera not included in Bouchard et al. (2011): Prothydrinae Guignot, 1954, Aulonogyrini Ochs, 1953 (Gyrinidae); Pogonostomini Mandl 1954, Merismoderini Wasmann, 1929, †Escheriidae Kolbe, 1880 (Carabidae); Timarchopsinae Wang, Ponomarenko & Zhang, 2010 (Coptoclavidae); Stictocraniini Jakobson, 1914 (Staphylinidae); Cylindrocaulini Zang, 1905, Kaupiolinae Zang, 1905 (Passalidae); Phaeochroinae Kolbe, 1912 (Hybosoridae); Anthypnidae Chalande, 1884 (Glaphyridae); Comophorini Britton, 1957, Comophini Britton, 1978, Chasmidae Streubel, 1846, Mimelidae Theobald, 1882, Rhepsimidae Streubel, 1846, Ometidae Streubel, 1846, Jumnidae Burmeister, 1842, Evambateidae Gistel, 1856 (Scarabaeidae); Protelmidae Jeannel, 1950 (Byrrhoidea); Pseudeucinetini Csiki, 1924 (Limnichidae); Xylotrogidae Schönfeldt, 1887 (Bostrichidae); †Mesernobiinae Engel, 2010, Fabrasiinae Lawrence & Reichardt, 1966 (Ptinidae); Arhinopini Kirejtshuk & Bouchard, 2018 (Nitidulidae); Hypodacninae Dajoz, 1976, Ceuthocera Mannerheim, 1852 (Cerylonidae); Symbiotinae Joy, 1932 (Endomychidae); Cheilomenini Schilder & Schilder, 1928, Veraniini Schilder & Schilder, 1928 (Coccinellidae); Ennearthroninae Chûjô, 1939 (Ciidae); Curtimordini Odnosum, 2010, Mordellochroini Odnosum, 2010 (Mordellidae); Chanopterinae Borchmann, 1915 (Promecheilidae); Heptaphyllini Prudhomme de Borre, 1886, Olocratarii Baudi di Selve, 1875, Opatrinaires Mulsant & Rey, 1853, Telacianae Poey, 1854, Ancylopominae Pascoe, 1871 (Tenebrionidae); Oxycopiini Arnett, 1984 (Oedemeridae); Eutrypteidae Gistel, 1856 (Mycteridae); Pogonocerinae Iablokoff-Khnzorian, 1985 (Pyrochroidae); Amblyderini Desbrochers des Loges, 1899 (Anthicidae); Trotommideini Pic, 1903 (Scraptiidae); Acmaeopsini Della Beffa, 1915, Trigonarthrini Villiers, 1984, Eunidiini Téocchi, Sudre & Jiroux, 2010 (Cerambycidae); Macropleini Lopatin, 1977, Stenopodiides Horn, 1883, Microrhopalides Horn, 1883, Colaphidae Siegel, 1866, Lexiphanini Wilcox, 1954 (Chrysomelidae); †Medmetrioxenoidesini Legalov, 2010, †Megametrioxenoidesini Legalov, 2010 (Nemonychidae); Myrmecinae Tanner, 1966, Tapinotinae Joy, 1932, Acallinae Joy, 1932, Cycloderini Hoffmann, 1950, Sthereini Hatch, 1971 (Curculionidae). The following 21 family-group names, listed as unavailable in Bouchard et al. (2011), are determined to be available: Eohomopterinae Wasmann, 1929 (Carabidae); Prosopocoilini Benesh, 1960, Pseudodorcini Benesh, 1960, Rhyssonotini Benesh, 1960 (Lucanidae); Galbini Beaulieu, 1919 (Eucnemidae); Troglopates Mulsant & Rey, 1867 (Melyridae); Hippodamiini Weise, 1885 (Coccinellidae); Micrositates Mulsant & Rey, 1854, Héliopathaires Mulsant & Rey, 1854 (Tenebrionidae); Hypasclerini Arnett, 1984; Oxaciini Arnett, 1984 (Oedemeridae); Stilpnonotinae Borchmann, 1936 (Mycteridae); Trogocryptinae Lawrence, 1991 (Salpingidae); Grammopterini Della Beffa, 1915, Aedilinae Perrier, 1893, Anaesthetinae Perrier, 1893 (Cerambycidae); Physonotitae Spaeth, 1942, Octotomides Horn, 1883 (Chrysomelidae); Sympiezopinorum Faust, 1886, Sueinae Murayama, 1959, Eccoptopterini Kalshoven, 1959 (Curculionidae). The following names were proposed as new without reference to family-group names based on the same type genus which had been made available at an earlier date: Dineutini Ochs, 1926 (Gyrinidae); Odonteini Shokhin, 2007 (Geotrupidae); Fornaxini Cobos, 1965 (Eucnemidae); Auletobiina Legalov, 2001 (Attelabidae). The priority of several family-group names, listed as valid in Bouchard et al. (2011), is affected by recent bibliographic discoveries or new nomenclatural interpretations. †Necronectinae Ponomarenko, 1977 is treated as permanently invalid and replaced with †Timarchopsinae Wang, Ponomarenko & Zhang, 2010 (Coptoclavidae); Agathidiini Westwood, 1838 is replaced by the older name Anisotomini Horaninow, 1834 (Staphylinidae); Cyrtoscydmini Schaufuss, 1889 is replaced by the older name Stenichnini Fauvel, 1885 (Staphylinidae); Eremazinae Iablokoff-Khnzorian, 1977 is treated as unavailable and replaced with Eremazinae Stebnicka, 1977 (Scarabaeidae); Coryphocerina Burmeister, 1842 is replaced by the older name Rhomborhinina Westwood, 1842 (Scarabaeidae); Eudysantina Bouchard, Lawrence, Davies & Newton, 2005 is replaced by the older name Dysantina Gebien, 1922 which is not permanently invalid (Tenebrionidae). The names Macraulacinae/-ini Fleutiaux, 1923 (Eucnemidae), Anamorphinae Strohecker, 1953 (Endomychidae), Pachycnemina Laporte, 1840 (Scarabaeidae), Thaumastodinae Champion, 1924 (Limnichidae), Eudicronychinae Girard, 1971 (Elateridae), Trogoxylini Lesne, 1921 (Bostrichidae), Laemophloeidae Ganglbauer, 1899 (Laemophloeidae); Ancitini Aurivillius, 1917 (Cerambycidae) and Tropiphorini Marseul, 1863 (Curculionidae) are threatened by the discovery of older names; Reversal of Precedence (ICZN 1999: Art. 23.9) or an application to the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature will be necessary to retain usage of the younger synonyms. Reversal of Precedence is used herein to qualify the following family-group names as nomina protecta: Murmidiinae Jacquelin du Val, 1858 (Cerylonidae) and Chalepini Weise, 1910 (Chrysomelidae). The following 17 Coleoptera family-group names (some of which are used as valid) are homonyms of other family-group names in zoology, these cases must be referred to the Commission for a ruling to remove the homonymy: Catiniidae Ponomarenko, 1968 (Catiniidae); Homopterinae Wasmann, 1920, Glyptini Horn, 1881 (Carabidae); Tychini Raffray, 1904, Ocypodina Hatch, 1957 (Staphylinidae); Gonatinae Kuwert, 1891 (Passalidae); Aplonychidae Burmeister, 1855 (Scarabaeidae); Microchaetini Paulus, 1973 (Byrrhidae); Epiphanini Muona, 1993 (Eucnemidae); Limoniina Jakobson, 1913 (Elateridae); Ichthyurini Champion, 1915 (Cantharidae); Decamerinae Crowson, 1964 (Trogossitidae); Trichodidae Streubel, 1839 (Cleridae); Monocorynini Miyatake, 1988 (Coccinellidae); Gastrophysina Kippenberg, 2010, Chorinini Weise, 1923 (Chrysomelidae); Meconemini Pierce, 1930 (Anthribidae). The following new substitute names are proposed: Phoroschizus (to replace Schizophorus Ponomarenko, 1968) and Phoroschizidae (to replace Schizophoridae Ponomarenko, 1968); Mesostyloides (to replace Mesostylus Faust, 1894) and Mesostyloidini (to replace Mesostylini Reitter, 1913). The following new genus-group name synonyms are proposed [valid names in square brackets]: Plocastes Gistel, 1856 [Aesalus Fabricius, 1801] (Lucanidae); Evambates Gistel, 1856 [Trichius Fabricius, 1775] (Scarabaeidae); Homoeoplastus Gistel, 1856 [Byturus Latreille, 1797] (Byturidae). Two type genera previously treated as preoccupied and invalid, Heteroscelis Latreille, 1828 and Dysantes Pascoe, 1869 (Tenebrionidae), are determined to be senior homonyms based on bibliographical research. While Dysantes is treated as valid here, Reversal of Precedence (ICZN 1999: Art. 23.9) is used to conserve usage of Anomalipus Guérin-Méneville, 1831 over Heteroscelis.

Abstract:

A large collection of mesoparasitic copepods from polychaete hosts collected in northern European waters was examined. The term mesoparasitic refers to highly transformed copepods where the adult female attaches by embedding part of its body in the host. Representatives of five known familes were found and a new family is established. A single new species, Bradophila minuta sp. nov., was described in the family Bradophilidae. It occurred exclusively on the flabelligerid Diplocirus glaucus (Malmgren, 1867). Two genera of the family Herpyllobiidae were represented: Herpyllobius Steenstrup & Lütken, 1861 and Eurysilenium M. Sars, 1870. Herpyllobius arcticus Steenstrup & Lütken, 1861 was found on at least five different polynoid hosts, two of which, Harmothoe fragilis Moore, 1910 and Antinoe sp., were new host records. A new species, H. cluthensis sp. nov. was described from Malmgrenia species in Scottish waters. The large species, Herpyllobius cordiformis Lützen, 1964, was collected in Arctic waters from Eunoe cf. oerstedi. It is the first report of this parasite in Europe. The common parasite H. polynoes (Krøyer, 1864) was found on six different polynoid hosts, three of which, Harmothoe bifera, Malmgreniella mcintoshi Tebble & Chambers, 1982 and Eunoe ?barbata are new host records. Eurysilenium truncatum M. Sars, 1870 was collected from Eucranta villosa Malmgren, 1866, Eunone sp., and Gattyana cirrhosa (Pallas, 1766). The material from Eucranta villosa caught at 72.6ºN comprises both a new host record and is the most northerly report of this parasite. Specimens of Eurysilenium which differed from E. truncatum in a number of features were found on Harmothoe fragilis and H. impar (Johnston, 1839). A new family, the Pholoicolidae, is established to accommodate Pholicola chambersae gen. et sp. nov., parasitic on Pholoe pallida Chambers, 1985. The family Phyllodicolidae was represented by all three of its known species: Phyllodicola petiti (Delamare Deboutteville & Laubier, 1960), Cyclorhiza eteonicola Heegaard, 1942 and C. megalova Gotto & Leahy, 1988. The former was found on Eumida ockelmanni Eibye-Jacobsen, 1987, a new host record. A single ovigerous female of C. eteonicola was collected from a new host, Eteone spetsbergensis Malmgren, 1865. Cyclorhiza megalova was common on Eteone longa (Fabricius, 1780) and E. longa/flava complex. A rich diversity of members of the family Saccopsidae was found, including three known species of Melinnacheres M. Sars, 1870 plus nine new species placed in four new genera. Melinnacheres was represented by M. ergasiloides M. Sars, 1870, M. steenstrupi Bresciani & Lützen, 1961 and M. terebellidis Levinsen, 1878. Melinnacheres ergasiloides was found on Melinna elizabethae McIntosh, 1914, M. steenstrupi on members of the Terebellides stroemi-complex and T. atlantis Williams, 1984, while M. terebellidis was found on the T. stroemi-complex and on T. shetlandica Parapar, Moreira & O'Reilly, 2016. A new genus, Trichobranchicola gen. nov., was established to accommodate T. antennatus gen. et sp. nov., a parasite of Trichobranchus sikorskii Leontovich & Jirkov in Jirkov, 2001, T. glacialis Malmgren, 1866 and Trichobranchus sp. The second new genus, Lanassicola gen. nov., was established to accommodate the type species, Lanassicola arcticus gen. et sp. nov. parasitic on Lanassa venusta (Malm, 1874), plus two additional species, L. bilobatus gen. et sp. nov. on Lanassa nordenskjoeldi Malmgren, 1866, and L. dorsilobatus gen. et sp. nov. on Proclea graffii (Langerhans, 1884). A new subfamily, Euchonicolinae, was established within the Saccopsidae to accommodate two new genera, Euchonicola gen. nov. and Euchonicoloides gen. nov. The type species of Euchonicola gen. nov. is E. caudatus gen. et sp. nov., a parasite of Euchone sp., and it includes two other species, E. linearis gen. et sp. nov. on Chone sp., and E. parvus gen. et sp. nov. on Euchone sp. The type species of Euchonicoloides gen. nov. is E. elongatus gen. et sp. nov. found on a host belonging to the genus Euchone, and it also includes Euchonicoloides halli gen. et sp. nov. from Jasmineira caudata Langerhans, 1880. Four species of the family Xenocoelomidae were found: Xenocoeloma alleni (Brumpt, 1897), X. brumpti Caullery & Mesnil, 1915, X. orbicularis sp. nov. and Aphanodomus terebellae (Levinsen, 1878). Xenocoeloma alleni was found on four different species of Polycirrus and on Amaeana trilobata (M. Sars, 1863) and X. brumpti was found on Polycirrus norvegicus Wollebaek, 1912. Xenocoeloma orbicularis sp. nov. occurred only on Paramphitrite birulai (Ssolowiew, 1899). Aphanodomus terebellae was found on three hosts, only one of which, Leaena abranchiata was new.

Abstract:

A review of genus-group names for darkling beetles in the family Tenebrionidae (Insecta: Coleoptera) is presented. A catalogue of 4122 nomenclaturally available genus-group names, representing 2307 valid genera (33 of which are extinct) and 761 valid subgenera, is given. For each name the author, date, page number, gender, type species, type fixation, current status, and first synonymy (when the name is a synonym) are provided. Genus-group names in this family are also recorded in a classification framework, along with data on the distribution of valid genera and subgenera within major biogeographical realms. A list of 535 unavailable genus-group names (e.g., incorrect subsequent spellings) is included. Notes on the date of publication of references cited herein are given, when known. The following genera and subgenera are made available for the first time: Anemiadena Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Cheirodes Gené, 1839), Armigena Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Nesogena Mäklin, 1863), Debeauxiella Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Hyperops Eschscholtz, 1831), Hyperopsis Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Hyperops Eschscholtz, 1831), Linio Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Nilio Latreille, 1802), Matthewsotys Bouchard & Bousquet, gen. nov., Neosolenopistoma Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Eurynotus W. Kirby, 1819), Paragena Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Nesogena Mäklin, 1863), Paulianaria Bouchard & Bousquet, gen. nov., Phyllechus Bouchard & Bousquet, gen. nov., Prorhytinota Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Rhytinota Eschscholtz, 1831), Pseudorozonia Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Rozonia Fairmaire, 1888), Pseudothinobatis Bouchard & Bousquet, gen. nov., Rhytinopsis Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Thalpophilodes Strand, 1942), Rhytistena Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Rhytinota Eschscholtz, 1831), Spinosdara Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Osdara Walker, 1858), Spongesmia Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Adesmia Fischer, 1822), and Zambesmia Bouchard & Bousquet, subgen. nov. (in Adesmia Fischer, 1822). The names Adeps Gistel, 1857 and Adepsion Strand, 1917 syn. nov. [= Tetraphyllus Laporte & Brullé, 1831], Asyrmatus Canzoneri, 1959 syn. nov. [= Pystelops Gozis, 1910], Euzadenos Koch, 1956 syn. nov. [= Selenepistoma Dejean, 1834], Gondwanodilamus Kaszab, 1969 syn. nov. [= Conibius J.L. LeConte, 1851], Gyrinodes Fauvel, 1897 syn. nov. [= Nesotes Allard, 1876], Helopondrus Reitter, 1922 syn. nov. [= Horistelops Gozis, 1910], Hybonotus Dejean, 1834 syn. nov. [= Damatris Laporte, 1840], Iphthimera Reitter, 1916 syn. nov. [= Metriopus Solier, 1835], Lagriomima Pic, 1950 syn. nov. [= Neogria Borchmann, 1911], Orphelops Gozis, 1910 syn. nov. [= Nalassus Mulsant, 1854], Phymatium Billberg, 1820 syn. nov. [= Cryptochile Latreille, 1828], Prosoblapsia Skopin & Kaszab, 1978 syn. nov. [= Genoblaps Bauer, 1921], and Pseudopimelia Gebler, 1859 syn. nov. [= Lasiostola Dejean, 1834] are established as new synonyms (valid names in square brackets). Anachayus Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. is proposed as a replacement name for Chatanayus Ardoin, 1957, Genateropa Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. as a replacement name for Apterogena Ardoin, 1962, Hemipristula Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. as a replacement name for Hemipristis Kolbe, 1903, Kochotella Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. as a replacement name for Millotella Koch, 1962, Medvedevoblaps Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. as a replacement name for Protoblaps G.S. Medvedev, 1998, and Subpterocoma Bouchard & Bousquet, nom. nov. is proposed as a replacement name for Pseudopimelia Motschulsky, 1860. Neoeutrapela Bousquet & Bouchard, 2013 is downgraded to a subgenus (stat. nov.) of Impressosora Pic, 1952. Anchomma J.L. LeConte, 1858 is placed in Stenosini: Dichillina (previously in Pimeliinae: Anepsiini); Entypodera Gerstaecker, 1871, Impressosora Pic, 1952 and Xanthalia Fairmaire, 1894 are placed in Lagriinae: Lagriini: Statirina (previously in Lagriinae: Lagriini: Lagriina); Loxostethus Triplehorn, 1962 is placed in Diaperinae: Diaperini: Diaperina (previously in Diaperinae: Diaperini: Adelinina); Periphanodes Gebien, 1943 is placed in Stenochiinae: Cnodalonini (previously in Tenebrioninae: Helopini); Zadenos Laporte, 1840 is downgraded to a subgenus (stat. nov.) of the older name Selenepistoma Dejean, 1834. The type species [placed in square brackets] of the following available genus-group names are designated for the first time: Allostrongylium Kolbe, 1896 [Allostrongylium silvestre Kolbe, 1896], Auristira Borchmann, 1916 [Auristira octocostata Borchmann, 1916], Blapidocampsia Pic, 1919 [Campsia pallidipes Pic, 1918], Cerostena Solier, 1836 [Cerostena deplanata Solier, 1836], Coracostira Fairmaire, 1899 [Coracostira armipes Fairmaire, 1899], Dischidus Kolbe, 1886 [Helops sinuatus Fabricius, 1801], Eccoptostoma Gebien, 1913 [Taraxides ruficrus Fairmaire, 1894], Ellaemus Pascoe, 1866 [Emcephalus submaculatus Brême, 1842], Epeurycaulus Kolbe, 1902 [Epeurycaulus aldabricus Kolbe, 1902], Euschatia Solier, 1851 [Euschatia proxima Solier, 1851], Heliocaes Bedel, 1906 [Blaps emarginata Fabricius, 1792], Hemipristis Kolbe, 1903 [Hemipristis ukamia Kolbe, 1903], Iphthimera Reitter, 1916 [Stenocara ruficornis Solier, 1835], Isopedus Stein, 1877 [Helops tenebrioides Germar, 1813], Malacova Fairmaire, 1898 [Malacova bicolor Fairmaire, 1898], Modicodisema Pic, 1917 [Disema subopaca Pic, 1912], Peltadesmia Kuntzen, 1916 [Metriopus platynotus Gerstaecker, 1854], Phymatium Billberg, 1820 [Pimelia maculata Fabricius, 1781], Podoces Péringuey, 1886 [Podoces granosula Péringuey, 1886], Pseuduroplatopsis Pic, 1913 [Borchmannia javana Pic, 1913], Pteraulus Solier, 1848 [Pteraulus sulcatipennis Solier, 1848], Sciaca Solier, 1835 [Hylithus disctinctus Solier, 1835], Sterces Champion, 1891 [Sterces violaceipennis Champion, 1891] and Teremenes Carter, 1914 [Tenebrio longipennis Hope, 1843]. Evidence suggests that some type species were misidentified. In these instances, information on the misidentification is provided and, in the following cases, the taxonomic species actually involved is fixed as the type species [placed in square brackets] following requirements in Article 70.3 of the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature: Accanthopus Dejean, 1821 [Tenebrio velikensis Piller & Mitterpacher, 1783], Becvaramarygmus Masumoto, 1999 [Dietysus nodicornis Gravely, 1915], Heterophaga Dejean, 1834 [Opatrum laevigatum Fabricius, 1781], Laena Dejean, 1821, [Scaurus viennensis Sturm, 1807], Margus Dejean, 1834 [Colydium castaneum Herbst, 1797], Pachycera Eschscholtz, 1831 [Tenebrio buprestoides Fabricius, 1781], Saragus Erichson, 1842 [Celibe costata Solier, 1848], Stene Stephens, 1829 [Colydium castaneum Herbst, 1797], Stenosis Herbst, 1799 [Tagenia intermedia Solier, 1838] and Tentyriopsis Gebien, 1928 [Tentyriopsis pertyi Gebien, 1940]. The following First Reviser actions are proposed to fix the precedence of names or nomenclatural acts (rejected name or act in square brackets): Stenosis ciliaris Gebien, 1920 as the type species for Afronosis G.S. Medvedev, 1995 [Stenosis leontjevi G.S. Medvedev, 1995], Alienoplonyx Bremer, 2019 [Alienolonyx], Amblypteraca Mas-Peinado, Buckley, Ruiz & García-París, 2018 [Amplypteraca], Caenocrypticoides Kaszab, 1969 [Caenocripticoides], Deriles Motschulsky, 1872 [Derilis], Eccoptostira Borchmann, 1936 [Ecoptostira], †Eodromus Haupt, 1950 [†Edromus], Eutelus Solier, 1843 [Lutelus], Euthriptera Reitter, 1893 [Enthriptera], Meglyphus Motschulsky, 1872 [Megliphus], Microtelopsis Koch, 1940 [Extetranosis Koch, 1940, Hypermicrotelopsis Koch, 1940], Neandrosus Pic, 1921 [Neoandrosus], Nodosogylium Pic, 1951 [Nodosogilium], Notiolesthus Motschulsky, 1872 [Notiolosthus], Pseudeucyrtus Pic, 1916 [Pseudocyrtus], Pseudotrichoplatyscelis Kaszab, 1960 [Pseudotrichoplatynoscelis and Pseudotrichoplatycelis], Rhydimorpha Koch, 1943 [Rhytimorpha], Rhophobas Motschulsky, 1872 [Rophobas], Rhyssochiton Gray, 1831 [Ryssocheton and Ryssochiton], Sphaerotidius Kaszab, 1941 [Spaerotidius], Stira Agassiz, 1846 (Mollusca) [Stira Agassiz, 1846 (Coleoptera)], Sulpiusoma Ferrer, 2006 [Sulpiosoma] and Taenobates Motschulsky, 1872 [Taeniobates]. Supporting evidence is provided for the conservation of usage of Cyphaleus Westwood, 1841 nomen protectum over Chrysobalus Boisduval, 1835 nomen oblitum.

Abstract:

-Leonard Y. Andaya, Michel Jacq-Hergoualc'h, The Malay Peninsula; Crossroads of the maritime silk road (100 BC-1300 AD). [Translated by Victoria Hobson.] Leiden: Brill, 2002, xxxv + 607 pp. [Handbook of oriental studies, 13. -Greg Bankoff, Resil B. Mojares, The war against the Americans; Resistance and collaboration in Cebu 1899-1906. Quezon city: Ateneo de Manila University, 1999, 250 pp. -R.H. Barnes, Andrea Katalin Molnar, Grandchildren of the Ga'e ancestors; Social organization and cosmology among the Hoga Sara of Flores. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2000, xii + 306 pp. [Verhandeling 185.] -Peter Boomgaard, Emmanuel Vigneron, Le territoire et la santé; La transition sanitaire en Polynésie francaise. Paris: CNRS Éditions, 1999, 281 pp. [Espaces et milieux.] -Clara Brakel-Papenhuyzen, Raechelle Rubinstein, Beyond the realm of the senses; The Balinese ritual of kekawin composition. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2000, xv + 293 pp. [Verhandelingen 181.] -Ian Caldwell, O.W. Wolters, History, culture, and region in Southeast Asian perspectives. Ithaca, NY: Southeast Asia program, Cornell University/Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 1999, 272 pp. [Studies on Southeast Asia 26.] -Peter van Diermen, Jonathan Rigg, More than the soil; Rural change in Southeast Asia. Harlow, Essex: Prentice Hall / Pearson education, 2001, xv + 184 pp. -Guy Drouot, Martin Stuart-Fox, Historical dictionary of Laos. Second edition. Lanham, Maryland: The Scarecrow Press, 2001, lxi + 527 pp. [Asian/Oceanian historical dictionaries series 35.] [First edition 1992.] -Doris Jedamski, Elsbeth Locher-Scholten, Women and the colonial state; Essays on gender and modernity in the Netherlands Indies 1900-1942. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2000, 251 pp. -Carool Kersten, Robert Hampson, Cross-cultural encounters in Joseph Conrad's Malay fiction. Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2000, xi + 248 pp. -Victor T. King, C. Michael Hall ,Tourism in South and Southeast Asia; Issues and cases. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann, 2000, xiv + 293 pp., Stephen Page (eds) -John McCarthy, Bernard Sellato, Forest, resources and people in Bulungan; Elements for a history of settlement, trade and social dynamics in Borneo, 1880-2000. Jakarta: Center for international forestry research (CIFOR), 2001, ix + 183 pp. -Naomi M. McPherson, Michael French Smith, Village on the edge; Changing times in Papua New Guinea. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2002, xviii + 214 pp. -Gert J. Oostindie, Peter van Wiechen, Vademecum van de Oost- en West-Indische Compagnie Historisch-geografisch overzicht van de Nederlandse aanwezigheid in Afrika, Amerika, Azië en West-Australië vanaf 1602 tot heden. Utrecht: Bestebreurtje, 2002, 381 pp. -Gert J. Oostindie, C.L. Temminck Groll, The Dutch overseas; Architectural Survey; Mutual heritage of four centuries in three continents. (in cooperation with W. van Alphen and with contributions from H.C.A. de Kat, H.C. van Nederveen Meerkerk and L.B. Wevers), Zwolle: Waanders/[Zeist]: Netherlands Department for Conservation, [2002]. 479 pp. -Gert J. Oostindie, M.H. Bartels ,Hollanders uit en thuis; Archeologie, geschiedenis en bouwhistorie gedurende de VOC-tijd in de Oost, de West en thuis; Cultuurhistorie van de Nederlandse expansie. Hilversum: Verloren, 2002, 190 pp. [SCHI-reeks 2.], E.H.P. Cordfunke, H. Sarfatij (eds) -Henk Schulte Nordholt, Tony Day, Fluid iron; State formation in Southeast Asia. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2002, xii + 339 pp. -Nick Stanley, Nicholas Thomas ,Double vision; Art histories and colonial histories in the Pacific. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, xii + 289 pp., Diane Losche, Jennifer Newell (eds) -Heather Sutherland, David Henley, Jealousy and justice; The indigenous roots of colonial rule in northern Sulawesi. Amsterdam: VU Uitgeverij, 2002, 106 pp. -Gerard Termorshuizen, Piet Hagen, Journalisten in Nederland; Een persgeschiedenis in portretten 1850-2000. Amsterdam: Arbeiderspers, 2002, 600 pp. -Amy E. Wassing, Bart de Prins, Voor keizer en koning; Leonard du Bus de Gisignies 1780-1849; Commissaris-Generaal van Nederlands-Indië. Amsterdam: Balans, 2002, 288 pp. -Robert Wessing, Michaela Appel, Hajatan in Pekayon; Feste bei Heirat und Beschneidung in einem westjavanischen Dorf. München: Verlag des Staatlichen Museums für Völkerkunde, 2001, 160 pp. [Münchner Beiträge zur Völkerkunde, Beiheft I.] -Nicholas J. White, Matthew Jones, Conflict and confrontation in South East Asia, 1961-1965; Britain, the United States, Indonesia and the creation of Malaysia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002, xv + 325 pp. -Edwin Wieringa, Peter Riddell, Islam and the Malay-Indonesian world; Transmission and responses. London: Hurst, 2001, xvii + 349 pp. -Edwin Wieringa, Stuart Robson ,Javanese-English dictionary. (With the assistance of Yacinta Kurniasih), Singapore: Periplus, 2002, 821 pp., Singgih Wibisono (eds) -Henk Schulte Nordholt, Edward Aspinall ,Local power and politics in Indonesia; Decentralisation and democracy. Sin gapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 2003, 296 pp. [Indonesia Assessment.], Greg Fealy (eds) -Henke Schulte Nordholt, Coen Holtzappel ,Riding a tiger; Dilemmas of integration and decentralization in Indonesia. Amsterdam: Rozenburg, 2002, 320 pp., Martin Sanders, Milan Titus (eds) -Henk Schulte Nordholt, Minako Sakai, Beyond Jakarta; Regional autonomy and local society in Indonesia. Adelaide: Crawford House, 2002, xvi + 354 pp. -Henk Schulte Nordholt, Damien Kingsbury ,Autonomy and disintegration in Indonesia. London; RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, xiv + 219 pp., Harry Aveling (eds)

Abstract:

AbstractThe Leiden artist Hieronymus van der Mij is only known today as a portrait painter, e.g. from the twelve portraits in the Lakenhal in Leiden, one in the Rijksmuseum and the series of professors done for Leiden University. He also owed his fame in his own day primarily to his portraits, but as Jan van Gool pointed out in 1750 (Note I), he also had a penchant for painting 'antique and modern cabinet pictures'. The main reason why these have been forgotten is that over the years they have slipped almost unnoticed into the oeuvre of Willem van Mieris, not seldom with false signatures to boot. This article presents a short survey of the history and genre pieces discovered up to now as a basis for further research. A list of works known from descriptions in old sale catalogues, but not yet traced, is appended after the catalogue. Hieronymus van de Mij (1687-1761) was the son of the bronze caster Philip van der Mij. In February 1710 he was enrolled in the Leiden Album Studiosorum. He was a pupil of Willem van Mieris, the leading Leiden painter of the day, becoming a member of the Guild of St. Luke in 1724 and for some time serving as supervisor at the Leiden Academy. During his life he made a collection of prints, which was sold at his house after his death (Note 2). The history of his Diogenes' Drinking Bowl (Cat. No. 1, Fig. 1) is an example of the fate that befell most of his history and genre paintings. It came up as a work by him at sales in 1774 and 1783 (Note 3), but around 150 years later, on 23 April 1932, it was sold in Antwerp as a Willem van Mieris. It came up again under this name in Brussels on 3 March 1936 and finally appeared yet again in 1983 as by Frans van Mieris the Elder. It is not too surprising that it was attributed to Willem van Mieris, for the landscape and figures are entirely in his style, but closer inspection reveals awkwardness in the drawing and much more minute detailing than is to be found in Willem van Mieris' work, while the fine, drauglatsmanlike style makes a rather harder impression than Van Mieris' softer, more painterly manner. The same characteristics appear in a scene with The Young Bacchus (Cat. No. 2, Fig.2), which was sold in Cologne in 1938 as by Willem van Mieris and which may be the same as a picture of the same subject seen by Hofstede de Groot in Moscow, which was signed and dated 1716. The Bacchus is an advance on the Diogenes in that it is more broadly conceived and the drawing is firmer and more sure. A signed grisaille overdoor in the Lakenhal, showing an Allegory on Overseas Trade (Cat. No.3) Fig.3), is van der Mij's only surviving decorative painting. It again shows a rather hard linear style, especially by comparison with the much softer and more atmospheric grisailles by Jacob de Wit. A chimneypiece painting of the same subject sold at Zoeterwoude on 25 June 1784 may have come from the same house (Note 5). Genre paintings play an important part in Van der Mij's oeuvre. The earliest dated example, a Family Group at Buckingham Palace (Cat. No.4, Fig. 4), is one of his best works. It was also thought to be a Willem van Mieris until cleaning revealed Van der Mij's signature and the date 1728 (Note 6). It again shows his great dependence on his teacher and also his closeness to his contemporary and fellow-pupil Frans van Mieris the Younger, whose name was also linked with this picture in the past (Note 7). A closely related work with a nursing mother (Cat. No.5, Fig.5), which in 1942 was in the Bentink Collection at Kasteel Weldam and bore the signature of Willem van Mieris and the date 1735, must date from the 1730's) as must a painting of a Woman Holding a Beer Glass in Johannesburg (Cat. No. 6, Fig.15), which is wrongly attributed to Frans van Mieris the Younger. Another work wrongly attributed to the latter (Cat. No. 7, Fig. 6) is revealed as a Van der Mij by the stereotyped faces of the women, the glances and the gestures. A work signed by Van der Mij in full, which came up for sale in Amsterdam in 1950 (Cat. No. 8, Fig.3), is probably meant as a Four Ages of Man. The date is given in the sale catalogue as 1708, but must actually be 1738. Although the influence of Willem van Mieris is still detectable in the old woman, the two younger ones reflect the elegant style of the French painters of the first half of the 18th century. Two scenes in a sewing workroom sold in the same sale as by Willem van Mieris (Cat. Nos. 9 and 10, Figs. 8 andg) are clearly by the same hand as a signed Fruitseller and Young Man (Cat. No. 11, Fig. 16), which was in the hands of Katz at Dieren in 1962. The Leiden tradition, initiated by Gerard Dou, of having the spectator look through a window crops up in a rather unusual form in two pendants in a private collection in Bergamo (Cat. Nos. 12 and 13, Figs. 10 and 11) and in a more conventional and thus possibly happier manner in a signed and dated panel of 1757 sold in Munich in 1899 (Cat. No. 14, Fig. 17) and a Poulterer's Shop (Cat. No. 15, Fig. 12) at Kasteel Singraven at Denekamp, which is very close to it in style (and again bears a false signature of Willem van Mieris). Finally, there are two more genre scenes in landscapes: a Young Woman Feeding Grapes to a Parrot (Cat. No. 16, Fig.13) in a private collection in Sweden, an early work comparable to a painting of 1706 by Willem van Mieris in Dresden (Fig. 14, Note 9), and a Young Couple in a Lanelscape (Cat. No. 17, Fig. 17), which belongs to a later period and is somewhat further removed from Van Mieris, although it was nonetheless attributed to him in a sale of 1906 (Note 10).

Abstract:

IntroductionI stumble to my feet breathing heavily and, over the roar of a tank, a nearby soldier yells right into my face: “We’re surrounded! We have to hold this line!” I follow him, moving past burning debris and wounded men being helped walk back in the opposite direction. Shells explode around me, a whistle sounds, and then the Hun attack; shadowy figures that I fire upon as they approach through the battlefield fog and smoke. I shoot some. I take cover behind walls as others fire back. I reload the weapon. I am hit by incoming fire, and a red damage indicator appears onscreen, so I move to a better cover position. As I am hit again and again, the image becomes blurry and appears as if in slow-motion, the sound also becoming muffled. As an enemy wielding a flame-thrower appears and blasts me with thick fire, my avatar gasps and collapses. The screen fades to black.So far, so very normal in the World War One themed first-person shooter Battlefield 1 (Electronic Arts 2016). But then the game does something unanticipated. I expect to reappear—or respawn—in the same scenario to play better, to stay in the fight longer. Instead, the camera view switches to an external position, craning upwards cinematically from my character’s dying body. Text superimposed over the view indicates the minimalist epitaph: “Harvey Nottoway 1889-1918.” The camera view then races backwards, high over the battlefield and finally settles into position behind a mounted machine-gun further back from the frontline as the enemy advances closer. Immediately I commence shooting, mowing down German troops as they enter our trenches. Soon I am hit and knocked away from the machine-gun. Picking up a shotgun I start shooting the enemy at close-quarters, until I am once again overrun and my character collapses. Now the onscreen text states I was playing as “Dean Stevenson 1899-1918.”I have attempted this prologue to the Battlefield 1 campaign a number of times. No matter how skilfully I play, or how effectively I simply run away and hide from the combat, this pattern continues: the structure of the game forces the player’s avatar to be repeatedly killed in order for the narrative to progress. Over a series of player deaths, respawning as an entirely new character each time, the combat grows in ferocity and the music also becomes increasingly frenetic. The fighting turns to hand-to-hand combat, or shovel-to-head combat to be more precise, and eventually an artillery barrage wipes everybody out (Figure 1). At this point, the prologue is complete and the gamer may continue in a variety of single-player episodes in different theatres of WW1, each of which is structured according to the normal rules of combat games: when your avatar is killed, you respawn at the most recent checkpoint for a follow-up attempt.What are we to make of this alternative narrative structure deployed by the opening episode of Battlefield 1? In contrast to the normal video-game affordances of re-playability until completion, this narrative necessitation of death is in some ways motivated by the onscreen text that introduces the prologue: “What follows is frontline combat. You are not expected to survive.” Certainly it is true that the rest of the game (either single-player or in its online multiplayer deathmatch mode) follows the predictable pattern of dying, replaying, completing. And also we would not expect Battlefield 1 to be motivated primarily by a kind of historical fidelity given that an earlier instalment in the series, Battlefield 1942 (2002) was described by one reviewer as:a comic book version of WWII. The fact that any player can casually hop into a tank, drive around, hop out and pick off an enemy soldier with a sniper rifle, hop into a plane, parachute out, and then call in artillery fire (within the span of a few minutes) should tell you a lot about the game. (Osborne)However what is happening in this will-to-die structure of the game’s prologue represents an alternative and affectively unsettling game experience both in its ludological structure as well as its affective impact. Defamiliarization and Humanization Drawing upon a phenomenology of game-play, whereby the scholar examines the game “as played” (see Atkins and Kryzwinska; Keogh; Wilson) to consider how the text reveals itself to the player, I argue that the introductory single-player episode of Battlefield 1 functions to create a defamiliarizing effect on the player. Defamiliarization, the Russian Formalist term for the effect created by art when some unusual aspect of a text challenges accepted perceptions and/or representations (Schklovski; Thompson), is a remarkably common effect created by the techniques used in combat cinema and video-games. This is unsurprising. After all, warfare is one of the very examples Schklovski uses as something that audiences have developed habituated responses to and which artworks must defamiliarize. The effect may be created by many techniques in a text, and in certain cases a work may defamiliarize even its own form. For instance, recent work on the violence in Saving Private Ryan shows that during the lengthy Omaha Beach sequence, the most vivid instances of violence—including the famous shot of a soldier picking up his dismembered arm—occur well after the audience has potentially become inured to the onslaught of the earlier frequent, but less graphic, carnage (Bender Film Style and WW2). To make these moments stand out with equivalent horrific impact against the background of the Normandy beach bloodbath Spielberg also treats them with a stuttered frame effect and accompanying audio distortion, motivated (to use a related Formalist term) by the character’s apparent concussion and temporary disorientation. Effectively a sequence of point of view shots then, this moment in Private Ryan has become a model for many other war texts, and indeed the player’s death in the opening sequence of Battlefield 1 is portrayed using a very similar (though not identical) audio-visual treatment (Figure 2).Although the Formalists never played videogames, recent scholarship has approached the medium from a similar perspective. For example, Brendan Keogh has focused on the challenges to traditional videogame pleasure generated by the 2012 dystopian shooter Spec Ops: The Line. Keogh notes that the game developers intended to create displeasure and “[forcing] the player to consider what is obscured in the pixilation of war” by, for instance, having them kill fellow American troops in order for the game narrative to continue (Keogh 9). In addition, the game openly taunts the player’s expectations of entertainment based, uncritical run-and-gun gameplay with onscreen text during level loading periods such as “Do you feel like a hero yet?” (8).These kinds of challenges to the expectations of entertainment in combat shooters are found also in one sequence from the 2009 game Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 in which the player—as an undercover operative—is forced to participate in a terrorist attack in which civilians are killed (Figure 3). While playing that level, titled “No Russian,” Timothy Welsh argues: “The player may shoot the unarmed civilians or not; the level still creeps slowly forward regardless” (Welsh 409). In Welsh’s analysis, this level emerges as an unusual attempt by a popular video game to “humanize” the non-playing characters that are ordinarily gunned down without any critical and self-reflective thought by the player in most shooter games. The player is forced into a scenario in which they must make a highly difficult ethical choice, but the game will show civilians being killed either way.In contrast to the usual criticisms of violent video games—eg., that they may be held responsible for school shootings, increased adolescent aggression and so on —the “No Russian” sequence drew dramatic complaints of being a “terrorist simulator” (Welsh 389). But for Welsh this ethical choice facing the player, to shoot or not to shoot civilians, raises the game to a textual experience offering self-inspection. As in the fictional theme park of Westworld (HBO 2016), it does not really matter to the digital victim if a player kills them, but it should—and does—matter to the player. There are no external consequences to killing a computer game character composed only of pixels, or killing/raping a robot in the Westworld theme park, however there are internal consequences: it makes you a killer, or a rapist (see Harris and Bloom).Thus, from the perspective of defamiliarization, the game can be regarded as creating the effect that Matthew Payne has labelled “critical displeasure.” Writing about the way this is created by Spec Ops, Payne argues that:the result is a game that wields its affective distance as a critique of the necessary illusion that all military shooters trade in, but one that so few acknowledge. In particular, the game’s brutal mise-en-scène, its intertextual references to other war media, and its real and imagined opportunities for player choice, create a discordant feeling that lays bare the ease with which most video war games indulge in their power fantasies. (Payne 270)There is then, a minor tradition of alternative military-themed video game works that attempt to invite or enable the player to conduct a kind of ethical self-examination around their engagement with interactive representations of war via particular incursions of realism. The critical displeasure invoked by texts such as Spec Ops and the “No Russian” level of Call of Duty is particularly interesting in light of another military game that was ultimately cancelled by the publisher after it received public criticism. Titled Six Days in Fallujah, the game was developed with the participation of Marines who had fought in that real life battle and aimed to depict the events as they unfolded in 2004 during the campaign in Iraq. As Justin Rashid argues:the controversy that arose around Six Days in Fallujah was, of course, a result of the view that commercial video games can only ever be pure entertainment; games do not have the authority or credibility to be part of a serious debate. (Rashid 17)On this basis, perhaps a criterial attribute of an acceptable alternative military game is that there is enough familiarity to evoke some critical distance, but not too much familiarity that the player must think about legitimately real-life consequences and impact. After all, Call of Duty was a successful release, even amid the controversy of “No Russian.” This makes sense as the level does not really challenge the overall enjoyment of the game. The novelty of the level, on the one hand, is that it is merely one part of the general narrative and cannot be regarded as representative of the whole game experience. On the other hand, because none of the events and scenarios have a clear indexical relationship to real-world terrorist attacks (at least prior to the Brussels attack in 2016) it is easy to play the ethical choice of shooting or not shooting civilians as a mental exercise rather than a reflection on something that really happened. This is the same lesson learned by the developers of the 2010 game Medal of Honor who ultimately changed the name of the enemy soldiers from “The Taliban” to “OPFOR” (standing in for a generic “Opposing Forces”) after facing pressure from the US and UK Military who claimed that the multiplayer capacities of the game enabled players to play as the Taliban (see Rashid). Conclusion: Affective Friction in Battlefield 1In important ways then, these game experiences are precursors to Battlefield 1’s single player prologue. However, the latter does not attempt a wholesale deconstruction of the genre—as does Spec Ops—or represent an attempt to humanise (or perhaps re-humanise) the non-playable victim characters as Welsh suggests “No Russian” attempts to do. Battlefield 1’s opening structure of death-and-respawn-as-different-character can be read as humanizing the player’s avatar. But most importantly, I take Battlefield’s initially unusual gameplay as an aesthetic attempt to set a particular tone to the game. Motivated by the general cultural attitude of deferential respect for the Great War, Battlefield 1 takes an almost austere stance toward the violence depicted, paradoxically even as this impact is muted in the later gameplay structured according to normal multiplayer deathmatch rules of run-and-gun killing. The futility implied by the player’s constant dying is clearly motivated by an attempt at realism as one of the cultural memories of World War One is the sheer likelihood of being killed, whether as a frontline soldier or a citizen of a country engaged in combat (see Kramer). For Battlefield 1, the repeated dying is really part of the text’s aesthetic engagement. For this reason I prefer the term affective friction rather than critical displeasure. The austere tone of the game is indicated early, just prior to the prologue gameplay with onscreen text that reads:Battlefield 1 is based on events that unfolded over 100 years agoMore than 60 million soldiers fought in “The War to End All Wars”It ended nothing.Yet it changed the world forever. At a simple level, the player’s experience of being killed in order for the next part of the narrative to progress evokes this sense of futility. There have been real responses indicating this, for instance one reviewer argues that the structure is “a powerful treatment” (Howley). But there is potential for increased engagement with the game itself as the structure breaks the replay-cycle of usual games. For instance, another reviewer responds to the overall single-player campaign by suggesting “It is not something you can sit down and play through and not experience on a higher level than just clicking a mouse and tapping a keyboard” (Simpson). This affective friction amplifies, and draws attention to, the other advances in violent stylistics presented in the game. For instance, although the standard onscreen visual distortions are used to show character damage and the direction from which the attack came, the game does use slow-motion to draw out the character’s death. In addition, the game features incidental battlefield details of shell-shock, such as soldiers simply holding the head in their hands, frozen as the battle rages around them (Figure 4). The presence of flame-thrower troops, and subsequently the depictions of characters running as they burn to death are also significant developments in violent aesthetics from earlier games. These elements of violence are constitutive of the affective friction. We may marvel at the technical achievement of such real-time rendering of dynamic fire and the artistic care given to animate deaths and shell-shock depictions. But simultaneously, these “violent delights”—to borrow from Westworld’s citation of Shakespeare—are innovations upon the depictions of earlier games, even contemporary, combat games. Indeed, one critic has almost ashamedly noted: “For a game about one of the most horrific wars in human history, it sure is pretty” (Kain).These violent depictions show a continuation in the tradition of increased detail which has been linked to a model of “reported realism” as a means of understanding audience’s claims of realism in combat films and modern videogames as a result primarily of their hypersaturated audio-visual texture (Bender "Blood Splats"). Here, saturation refers not to the specific technical quality of colour saturation but to the densely layered audio-visual structure often found in contemporary films and videogames. For example, thick mixing of soundtracks, details of gore, and nuanced movements (particularly of dying characters) all contribute to a hypersaturated aesthetic which tends to prompt audiences to make claims of realism for a combat text regardless of whether or not these viewers/players have any real world referent for comparison. Of course, there are likely to be players who will simply blast through any shooter game, giving no regard to the critical displeasure offered by Spec Ops narrative choices or the ethical dilemma of “No Russian.” There are also likely to be players who bypass the single-player campaign altogether and only bother with the multiplayer deathmatch experience, which functions in the same way as it does in other shooter games, including the previous Battlefield games. But perhaps the value of this game’s attempt at alternative storytelling, with its emphasis on tone and affect, is that even the “kill-em-all” player may experience a momentary impact from the violence depicted. This is particularly important given that, to borrow from Stephanie Fisher’s argument in regard to WW2 games, many young people encounter the history of warfare through such popular videogames (Fisher). In the centenary period of World War One, especially in Australia amid the present Anzac commemorative moment, the opportunity for young audiences to engage with the significance of the events. As a side-note, the later part of the single-player campaign even has a Gallipoli sequence, though the narrative of this component is designed as an action-hero adventure. Indeed, this is one example of how the alternative dying-to-continue structure of the prologue creates an affective friction against the normal gameplay and narratives that feature in the rest of the text. The ambivalent ways in which this unsettling opening scenario impacts on the remainder of the game-play, including for instance its depiction of PTSD, is illustrated by some industry reviewers. As one reviewer argues, the game does generate the feeling that “war isn’t fun — except when it is” (Plante). From this view, the cognitive challenge created by the will to die in the prologue creates an affective friction with the normalised entertainment inherent in the game’s multiplayer run-and-gun components that dominate the rest of Battlefield 1’s experience. Therefore, although Battlefield 1 ultimately proves to be an entertainment-oriented combat shooter, it is significant that the developers of this major commercial production decided to include an experimental structure to the prologue as a way of generating tone and affect in a fresh way. ReferencesAtkins, Barry, and Tanya Kryzwinska. "Introduction: Videogame, Player, Text." Videogame, Player, Text. Eds. Atkins, Barry and Tanya Kryzwinska. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007.Bender, Stuart Marshall. "Blood Splats and Bodily Collapse: Reported Realism and the Perception of Violence in Combat Films and Videogames." Projections 8.2 (2014): 1-25.Bender, Stuart Marshall. Film Style and the World War II Combat Film. Newcastle, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.Fisher, Stephanie. "The Best Possible Story? Learning about WWII from FPS Video Games." Guns, Grenades, and Grunts: First-Person Shooter Games. Eds. Gerald A. Voorhees, Josh Call and Katie Whitlock. New York: Continuum, 2012. 299-318.Harris, Sam, and Paul Bloom. "Waking Up with Sam Harris #56 – Abusing Dolores." Sam Harris 12 Dec. 2016. Howley, Daniel. "Review: Beautiful Battlefield 1 Gives the War to End All Wars Its Due Respect." Yahoo! 2016. Kain, Erik. "'Battlefield 1' Is Stunningly Beautiful on PC." Forbes 2016.Keogh, Brendan. Spec Ops: The Line's Conventional Subversion of the Military Shooter. Paper presented at DiGRA 2013: Defragging Game Studies.Kramer, Alan. Dynamic of Destruction: Culture and Mass Killing in the First World War. UK: Oxford University Press, 2007. Osborne, Scott. "Battlefield 1942 Review." Gamesport 2002. Payne, Matthew Thomas. "War Bytes: The Critique of Militainment in Spec Ops: The Line." Critical Studies in Media Communication 31.4 (2014): 265-82. Plante, Chris. "Battlefield 1 Is Excellent Because the Series Has Stopped Trying to Be Call of Duty." The Verge 2016. Rashid, Justin. Terrorism in Video Games and the Storytelling War against Extremism. Paper presented at Hawaii International Conference on Arts and Humanities, 9-12 Jan. 2011.Schklovski, Viktor. "Sterne's Tristram Shandy: Stylistic Commentary." Trans. Lee T. Lemon and Marion J. Reis. Russian Formalist Criticism: Four Essays. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1965. 25-60.Simpson, Campbell. "Battlefield 1 Isn't a Game: It's a History Lesson." Kotaku 2016. Thompson, Kristin. Breaking the Glass Armor: Neoformalist Film Analysis. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1988. Welsh, Timothy. "Face to Face: Humanizing the Digital Display in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2." Guns, Grenade, and Grunts: First-Person Shooter Games. Eds. Gerald A. Voorhees, Josh. Call, and Katie Whitlock. New York: Continuum, 2012. 389-414. Wilson, Jason Anthony. "Gameplay and the Aesthetics of Intimacy." PhD diss. Brisbane: Griffith University, 2007.

Abstract:

The general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. — Sun TzuWorld War II saw a proliferation of maps. From command posts to the pages of National Geographic to the pages of daily newspapers, they were everywhere (Schulten). The era also saw substantive developments in cartography, especially with respect to the topographical maps that feature in our selected films. This essay offers a preliminary examination of the battle-map as depicted in two films about the Second World War: Franklin J. Shaffner’s biopic Patton (1970) and Jack Smight’s epic Midway (1976). In these films, maps, charts, or tableaux (the three-dimensional models upon which are plotted the movements of battalions, fleets, and so on) emerge as an expression of both martial and cinematic strategy. As a rear-view representation of the relative movements of personnel and materiel in particular battle arenas, the map and its accessories (pins, tape, markers, and so forth) trace the broad military dispositions of Patton’s 2nd Corp (Africa), Seventh Army (Italy) and Third Army (Western Europe) and the relative position of American and Japanese fleets in the Pacific. In both Patton and Midway, the map also emerges as a simple mode of narrative plotting: as the various encounters in the two texts play out, the battle-map more or less contemporaneously traces the progress of forces. It also serves as a foreshadowing device, not just narratively, but cinematically: that which is plotted in advance comes to pass (even if as preliminary movements before catastrophe), but the audience is also cued for the cinematic chaos and disjuncture that almost inevitably ensues in the battle scenes proper.On one hand, then, this essay proposes that at the fundamental level of fabula (seen through either the lens of historical hindsight or through the eyes of the novice who knows nothing of World War II), the annotated map is engaged both strategically and cinematically: as a stage upon which commanders attempt to act out (either in anticipation, or retrospectively) the intricate, but grotesque, ballet of warfare — and as a reflection of the broad, sequential, sweeps of conflict. While, in War and Cinema, Paul Virilio offers the phrase ‘the logistics of perception’ (1), in this this essay we, on the other hand, consider that, for those in command, the battle-map is a representation of the perception of logistics: the big picture of war finds rough indexical representation on a map, but (as Clausewitz tells us) chance, the creative agency of individual commanders, and the fog of battle make it far less probable (than is the case in more specific mappings, such as, say, the wedding rehearsal) that what is planned will play out with any degree of close correspondence (On War 19, 21, 77-81). Such mapping is, of course, further problematised by the processes of abstraction themselves: indexicality is necessarily a reduction; a de-realisation or déterritorialisation. ‘For the military commander,’ writes Virilio, ‘every dimension is unstable and presents itself in isolation from its original context’ (War and Cinema 32). Yet rehearsal (on maps, charts, or tableaux) is a keying activity that seeks to presage particular real world patterns (Goffman 45). As suggested above, far from being a rhizomatic activity, the heavily plotted (as opposed to thematic) business of mapping is always out of joint: either a practice of imperfect anticipation or an equally imperfect (pared back and behind-the-times) rendition of activity in the field. As is argued by Tolstoj in War and Peace, the map then presents to the responder a series of tensions and ironies often lost on the masters of conflict themselves. War, as Tostoj proposes, is a stochastic phenomenon while the map is a relatively static, and naive, attempt to impose order upon it. Tolstoj, then, pillories Phull (in the novel, Pfuhl), the aptly-named Prussian general whose lock-stepped obedience to the science of war (of which the map is part) results in the abject humiliation of 1806:Pfuhl was one of those theoreticians who are so fond of their theory that they lose sight of the object of that theory - its application in practice. (Vol. 2, Part 1, Ch. 10, 53)In both Patton and Midway, then, the map unfolds not only as an epistemological tool (read, ‘battle plan’) or reflection (read, the near contemporaneous plotting of real world affray) of the war narrative, but as a device of foreshadowing and as an allegory of command and its profound limitations. So, in Deleuzian terms, while emerging as an image of both time and perception, for commanders and filmgoers alike, the map is also something of a seduction: a ‘crystal-image’ situated in the interstices between the virtual and the actual (Deleuze 95). To put it another way, in our films the map emerges as an isomorphism: a studied plotting in which inheres a counter-text (Goffman 26). As a simple device of narrative, and in the conventional terms of latitude and longitude, in both Patton and Midway, the map, chart, or tableau facilitate the plotting of the resources of war in relation to relief (including island land masses), roads, railways, settlements, rivers, and seas. On this syntagmatic plane, in Greimasian terms, the map is likewise received as a canonical sign of command: where there are maps, there are, after all, commanders (Culler 13). On the other hand, as suggested above, the battle-map (hereafter, we use the term to signify the conventional paper map, the maritime chart, or tableau) materialises as a sanitised image of the unknown and the grotesque: as apodictic object that reduces complexity and that incidentally banishes horror and affect. Thus, the map evolves, in the viewer’s perception, as an ironic sign of all that may not be commanded. This is because, as an emblem of the rational order, in Patton and Midway the map belies the ubiquity of battle’s friction: that defined by Clausewitz as ‘the only concept which...distinguishes real war from war on paper’ (73). ‘Friction’ writes Clausewitz, ‘makes that which appears easy in War difficult in reality’ (81).Our work here cannot ignore or side-step the work of others in identifying the core cycles, characteristics of the war film genre. Jeanine Basinger, for instance, offers nothing less than an annotated checklist of sixteen key characteristics for the World War II combat film. Beyond this taxonomy, though, Basinger identifies the crucial role this sub-type of film plays in the corpus of war cinema more broadly. The World War II combat film’s ‘position in the evolutionary process is established, as well as its overall relationship to history and reality. It demonstrates how a primary set of concepts solidifies into a story – and how they can be interpreted for a changing ideology’ (78). Stuart Bender builds on Basinger’s taxonomy and discussion of narrative tropes with a substantial quantitative analysis of the very building blocks of battle sequences. This is due to Bender’s contention that ‘when a critic’s focus [is] on the narrative or ideological components of a combat film [this may] lead them to make assumptions about the style which are untenable’ (8). We seek with this research to add to a rich and detailed body of knowledge by redressing a surprising omission therein: a conscious and focussed analysis of the use of battle-maps in war cinema. In Patton and in Midway — as in War and Peace — the map emerges as an emblem of an intergeneric dialogue: as a simple storytelling device and as a paradigmatic engine of understanding. To put it another way, as viewer-responders with a synoptic perspective we perceive what might be considered a ‘double exposure’: in the map we see what is obviously before us (the collision of represented forces), but an Archimedean positioning facilitates the production of far more revelatory textual isotopies along what Roman Jakobson calls the ‘axis of combination’ (Linguistics and Poetics 358). Here, otherwise unconnected signs (in our case various manifestations and configurations of the battle-map) are brought together in relation to particular settings, situations, and figures. Through this palimpsest of perspective, a crucial binary emerges: via the battle-map we see ‘command’ and the sequence of engagement — and, through Greimasian processes of axiological combination (belonging more to syuzhet than fabula), elucidated for us are the wrenching ironies of warfare (Culler 228). Thus, through the profound and bound motif of the map (Tomashevsky 69), are we empowered to pass judgement on the map bearers who, in both films, present as the larger-than-life heroes of old. Figure 1.While we have scope only to deal with the African theatre, Patton opens with a dramatic wide-shot of the American flag: a ‘map’, if you will, of a national history forged in war (Fig. 1). Against this potent sign of American hegemony, as he slowly climbs up to the stage before it, the general appears a diminutive figure -- until, via a series of matched cuts that culminate in extreme close-ups, he manifests as a giant about to play his part in a great American story (Fig. 2).Figure 2.Some nineteen minutes into a film, having surveyed the carnage of Kasserine Pass (in which, in February 1943, the Germans inflicted a humiliating defeat on the Americans) General Omar Bradley is reunited with his old friend and newly-nominated three-star general, George S. Patton Jr.. Against a backdrop of an indistinct topographical map (that nonetheless appears to show the front line) and the American flag that together denote the men’s authority, the two discuss the Kasserine catastrophe. Bradley’s response to Patton’s question ‘What happened at Kasserine?’ clearly illustrates the tension between strategy and real-world engagement. While the battle-plan was solid, the Americans were outgunned, their tanks were outclassed, and (most importantly) their troops were out-disciplined. Patton’s concludes that Rommel can only be beaten if the American soldiers are fearless and fight as a cohesive unit. Now that he is in command of the American 2nd Corp, the tide of American martial fortune is about to turn.The next time Patton appears in relation to the map is around half an hour into the two-and-three-quarter-hour feature. Here, in the American HQ, the map once more appears as a simple, canonical sign of command. Somewhat carelessly, the map of Europe seems to show post-1945 national divisions and so is ostensibly offered as a straightforward prop. In terms of martial specifics, screenplay writer Francis Ford Coppola apparently did not envisage much close scrutiny of the film’s maps. Highlighted, instead, are the tensions between strategy as a general principle and action on the ground. As British General Sir Arthur Coningham waxes lyrical about allied air supremacy, a German bomber drops its payload on the HQ, causing the map of Europe to (emblematically) collapse forward into the room. Following a few passes by the attacking aircraft, the film then cuts to a one second medium shot as a hail of bullets from a Heinkel He 111 strike a North African battle map (Fig. 3). Still prone, Patton remarks: ‘You were discussing air supremacy, Sir Arthur.’ Dramatising a scene that did take place (although Coningham was not present), Schaffner’s intention is to allow Patton to shoot holes in the British strategy (of which he is contemptuous) but a broader objective is the director’s exposé of the more general disjuncture between strategy and action. As the film progresses, and the battle-map’s allegorical significance is increasingly foregrounded, this critique becomes definitively sharper.Figure 3.Immediately following a scene in which an introspective Patton walks through a cemetery in which are interred the remains of those killed at Kasserine, to further the critique of Allied strategy the camera cuts to Berlin’s high command and a high-tech ensemble of tableaux, projected maps, and walls featuring lights, counters, and clocks. Tasked to research the newly appointed Patton, Captain Steiger walks through the bunker HQ with Hitler’s Chief of Staff, General Jodl, to meet with Rommel — who, suffering nasal diphtheria, is away from the African theatre. In a memorable exchange, Steiger reveals that Patton permanently attacks and never retreats. Rommel, who, following his easy victory at Kasserine, is on the verge of total tactical victory, in turn declares that he will ‘attack and annihilate’ Patton — before the poet-warrior does the same to him. As Clausewitz has argued, and as Schaffner is at pains to point out, it seems that, in part, the outcome of warfare has more to do with the individual consciousness of competing warriors than it does with even the most exquisite of battle-plans.Figure 4.So, even this early in the film’s runtime, as viewer-responders we start to reassess various manifestations of the battle-map. To put it as Michelle Langford does in her assessment of Schroeter’s cinema, ‘fragments of the familiar world [in our case, battle-maps] … become radically unfamiliar’ (Allegorical Images 57). Among the revelations is that from the flag (in the context of close battle, all sense of ‘the national’ dissolves), to the wall map, to the most detailed of tableau, the battle-plan is enveloped in the fog of war: thus, the extended deeply-focussed scenes of the Battle of El Guettar take us from strategic overview (Patton’s field glass perspectives over what will soon become a Valley of Death) to what Boris Eichenbaum has called ‘Stendhalian’ scale (The Young Tolstoi 105) in which, (in Patton) through more closely situated perspectives, we almost palpably experience the Germans’ disarray under heavy fire. As the camera pivots between the general and the particular (and between the omniscient and the nescient) the cinematographer highlights the tension between the strategic and the actual. Inasmuch as it works out (and, as Schaffner shows us, it never works out completely as planned) this is the outcome of modern martial strategy: chaos and unimaginable carnage on the ground that no cartographic representation might capture. As Patton observes the destruction unfold in the valley below and before him, he declares: ‘Hell of a waste of fine infantry.’ Figure 5.An important inclusion, then, is that following the protracted El Guettar battle scenes, Schaffner has the (symbolically flag-draped) casket of Patton’s aide, Captain Richard N. “Dick” Jenson, wheeled away on a horse-drawn cart — with the lonely figure of the mourning general marching behind, his ironic interior monologue audible to the audience: ‘I can't see the reason such fine young men get killed. There are so many battles yet to fight.’ Finally, in terms of this brief and partial assessment of the battle-map in Patton, less than an hour in, we may observe that the map is emerging as something far more than a casual prop; as something more than a plotting of battlelines; as something more than an emblem of command. Along a new and unexpected axis of semantic combination, it is now manifesting as a sign of that which cannot be represented nor commanded.Midway presents the lead-up to the eponymous naval battle of 1942. Smight’s work is of interest primarily because the battle itself plays a relatively small role in the film; what is most important is the prolonged strategising that comprises most of the film’s run time. In Midway, battle-tables and fleet markers become key players in the cinematic action, second almost to the commanders themselves. Two key sequences are discussed here: the moment in which Yamamoto outlines his strategy for the attack on Midway (by way of a decoy attack on the Aleutian Islands), and the scene some moments later where Admiral Nimitz and his assembled fleet commanders (Spruance, Blake, and company) survey their own plan to defend the atoll. In Midway, as is represented by the notion of a fleet-in-being, the oceanic battlefield is presented as a speculative plane on which commanders can test ideas. Here, a fleet in a certain position projects a radius of influence that will deter an enemy fleet from attacking: i.e. ‘a fleet which is able and willing to attack an enemy proposing a descent upon territory which that force has it in charge to protect’ (Colomb viii). The fleet-in-being, it is worth noting, is one that never leaves port and, while it is certainly true that the latter half of Midway is concerned with the execution of strategy, the first half is a prolonged cinematic game of chess, with neither player wanting to move lest the other has thought three moves ahead. Virilio opines that the fleet-in-being is ‘a new idea of violence that no longer comes from direct confrontation and bloodshed, but rather from the unequal properties of bodies, evaluation of the number of movements allowed them in a chosen element, permanent verification of their dynamic efficiency’ (Speed and Politics 62). Here, as in Patton, we begin to read the map as a sign of the subjective as well as the objective. This ‘game of chess’ (or, if you prefer, ‘Battleships’) is presented cinematically through the interaction of command teams with their battle-tables and fleet markers. To be sure, this is to show strategy being developed — but it is also to prepare viewers for the defamiliarised representation of the battle itself.The first sequence opens with a close-up of Admiral Yamamoto declaring: ‘This is how I expect the battle to develop.’ The plan to decoy the Americans with an attack on the Aleutians is shown via close-ups of the conveniently-labelled ‘Northern Force’ (Fig. 6). It is then explained that, twenty-four hours later, a second force will break off and strike south, on the Midway atoll. There is a cut from closeups of the pointer on the map to the wider shot of the Japanese commanders around their battle table (Fig. 7). Interestingly, apart from the opening of the film in the Japanese garden, and the later parts of the film in the operations room, the Japanese commanders are only ever shown in this battle-table area. This canonically positions the Japanese as pure strategists, little concerned with the enmeshing of war with political or social considerations. The sequence ends with Commander Yasimasa showing a photograph of Vice Admiral Halsey, who the Japanese mistakenly believe will be leading the carrier fleet. Despite some bickering among the commanders earlier in the film, this sequence shows the absolute confidence of the Japanese strategists in their plan. The shots are suitably languorous — averaging three to four seconds between cuts — and the body language of the commanders shows a calm determination. The battle-map here is presented as an index of perfect command and inevitable victory: each part of the plan is presented with narration suggesting the Japanese expect to encounter little resistance. While Yasimasa and his clique are confident, the other commanders suggest a reconnaissance flight over Pearl Harbor to ascertain the position of the American fleet; the fear of fleet-in-being is shown here firsthand and on the map, where the reconnaissance planes are placed alongside the ship markers. The battle-map is never shown in full: only sections of the naval landscape are presented. We suggest that this is done in order to prepare the audience for the later stages of the film: as in Patton (from time to time) the battle-map here is filmed abstractly, to prime the audience for the abstract montage of the battle itself in the film’s second half.Figure 6.Figure 7.Having established in the intervening running time that Halsey is out of action, his replacement, Rear Admiral Spruance, is introduced to the rest of the command team. As with all the important American command and strategy meetings in the film, this is done in the operations room. A transparent coordinates board is shown in the foreground as Nimitz, Spruance and Rear Admiral Fletcher move through to the battle table. Behind the men, as they lean over the table, is an enormous map of the world (Fig. 8). In this sequence, Nimitz freely admits that while he knows each Japanese battle group’s origin and heading, he is unsure of their target. He asks Spruance for his advice:‘Ray, assuming what you see here isn’t just an elaborate ruse — Washington thinks it is, but assuming they’re wrong — what kind of move do you suggest?’This querying is followed by Spruance glancing to a particular point on the map (Fig. 9), then a cut to a shot of models representing the aircraft carriers Hornet, Enterprise & Yorktown (Fig. 10). This is one of the few model/map shots unaccompanied by dialogue or exposition. In effect, this shot shows Spruance’s thought process before he responds: strategic thought presented via cinematography. Spruance then suggests situating the American carrier group just northeast of Midway, in case the Japanese target is actually the West Coast of the United States. It is, in effect, a hedging of bets. Spruance’s positioning of the carrier group also projects that group’s sphere of influence around Midway atoll and north to essentially cut off Japanese access to the US. The fleet-in-being is presented graphically — on the map — in order to, once again, cue the audience to match the later (edited) images of the battle to these strategic musings.In summary, in Midway, the map is an element of production design that works alongside cinematography, editing, and performance to present the notion of strategic thought to the audience. In addition, and crucially, it functions as an abstraction of strategy that prepares the audience for the cinematic disorientation that will occur through montage as the actual battle rages later in the film. Figure 8.Figure 9.Figure 10.This essay has argued that the battle-map is a simulacrum of the weakest kind: what Baudrillard would call ‘simulacra of simulation, founded on information, the model’ (121). Just as cinema itself offers a distorted view of history (the war film, in particular, tends to hagiography), the battle-map is an over-simplification that fails to capture the physical and psychological realities of conflict. We have also argued that in both Patton and Midway, the map is not a ‘free’ motif (Tomashevsky 69). Rather, it is bound: a central thematic device. In the two films, the battle-map emerges as a crucial isomorphic element. On the one hand, it features as a prop to signify command and to relay otherwise complex strategic plottings. At this syntagmatic level, it functions alongside cinematography, editing, and performance to give audiences a glimpse into how military strategy is formed and tested: a traditional ‘reading’ of the map. But on the flip side of what emerges as a classic structuralist binary, is the map as a device of foreshadowing (especially in Midway) and as a depiction of command’s profound limitations. Here, at a paradigmatic level, along a new axis of combination, a new reading of the map in war cinema is proposed: the battle-map is as much a sign of the subjective as it is the objective.ReferencesBasinger, Jeanine. The World War II Combat Film: Anatomy of a Genre. Middletown, CT: Columbia UP, 1986.Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Ann Arbour: U of Michigan Press, 1994.Bender, Stuart. Film Style and the World War II Combat Genre. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.Clausewitz, Carl. On War. Vol. 1. London: Kegan Paul, 1908.Colomb, Philip Howard. Naval Warfare: Its Ruling Principles and Practice Historically Treated. 3rd ed. London: W.H. Allen & Co, 1899.Culler, Jonathan. Structuralist Poetics. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975.Deleuze, Gilles. Cinema 2: The Time-Image. London: Continuum, 2005.Eichenbaum, Boris. The Young Tolstoi. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1972.Goffman, Erving. Frame Analysis. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1976.Jakobson, Roman. "Linguistics and Poetics." Style in Language. Ed. T. Sebebeok. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1960. 350—77.Langford, Michelle. Allegorical Images: Tableau, Time and Gesture in the Cinema of Werner Schroeter. Bristol: Intellect, 2006.Midway. Jack Smight. Universal Pictures, 1976. Film.Patton. Franklin J. Schaffner. 20th Century Fox, 1970. Film.Schulten, Susan. World War II Led to a Revolution in Cartography. New Republic 21 May 2014. 16 June 2017 <https://newrepublic.com/article/117835/richard-edes-harrison-reinvented-mapmaking-world-war-2-americans>.Tolstoy, Leo. War and Peace. Vol. 2. London: Folio, 1997.Tomashevsky, Boris. "Thematics." Russian Formalist Criticism: Four Essays. Eds. L. Lemon and M. Reis, Lincoln: U. Nebraska Press, 2012. 61—95.Tzu, Sun. The Art of War. San Diego: Canterbury Classics, 2014.Virilio, Paul. Speed and Politics. Paris: Semiotext(e), 2006.Virilio, Paul. War and Cinema: The Logistics of Perception. London: Verso, 1989.

Abstract:

This article investigates the prosthesis of identity through the process of branding. It examines cross-cultural manifestations of this phenomena from sixth millennium BCE Syria to twelfth century Japan and Britain. From the Neolithic Era, humanity has sort to extend their identities using pictorial signs that were characteristically simple. Designed to be distinctive and instantly recognisable, the totemic symbols served to signal the origin of the bearer. Subsequently, the development of branding coincided with periods of increased in mobility both in respect to geography and social strata. This includes fifth millennium Mesopotamia, nineteenth century Britain, and America during the 1920s.There are fewer articles of greater influence on contemporary culture than A Theory of Human Motivation written by Abraham Maslow in 1943. Nearly seventy-five years later, his theories about the societal need for “belongingness” and “esteem” remain a mainstay of advertising campaigns (Maslow). Although the principles are used to sell a broad range of products from shampoo to breakfast cereal they are epitomised by apparel. This is with refence to garments and accessories bearing corporation logos. Whereas other purchased items, imbued with abstract products, are intended for personal consumption the public display of these symbols may be interpreted as a form of signalling. The intention of the wearers is to literally seek the fulfilment of the aforementioned social needs. This article investigates the use of brands as prosthesis.Coats and Crests: Identity Garnered on Garments in the Middle Ages and the Muromachi PeriodA logo, at its most basic, is a pictorial sign. In his essay, The Visual Language, Ernest Gombrich described the principle as reducing images to “distinctive features” (Gombrich 46). They represent a “simplification of code,” the meaning of which we are conditioned to recognise (Gombrich 46). Logos may also be interpreted as a manifestation of totemism. According to anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, the principle exists in all civilisations and reflects an effort to evoke the power of nature (71-127). Totemism is also a method of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166).This principle, in a form garnered on garments, is manifested in Mon Kiri. The practice of cutting out family crests evolved into a form of corporate branding in Japan during the Meiji Period (1868-1912) (Christensen 14). During the Muromachi period (1336-1573) the crests provided an integral means of identification on the battlefield (Christensen 13). The adorning of crests on armour was also exercised in Europe during the twelfth century, when the faces of knights were similarly obscured by helmets (Family Crests of Japan 8). Both Mon Kiri and “Coat[s] of Arms” utilised totemic symbols (Family Crests of Japan 8; Elven 14; Christensen 13). The mon for the imperial family (figs. 1 & 2) during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia flowers (Goin’ Japaneque). “Coat[s] of Arms” in Britain featured a menagerie of animals including lions (fig. 3), horses and eagles (Elven).The prothesis of identity through garnering symbols on the battlefield provided “safety” through demonstrating “belongingness”. This constituted a conflation of two separate “needs” in the “hierarchy of prepotency” propositioned by Maslow. Fig. 1. The mon symbolising the Imperial Family during the Muromachi Period featured chrysanthemum and paulownia. "Kamon (Japanese Family Crests): Ancient Key to Samurai Culture." Goin' Japaneque! 15 Nov. 2015. 27 July 2019 <http://goinjapanesque.com/05983/>.Fig. 2. An example of the crest being utilised on a garment can be found in this portrait of samurai Oda Nobunaga. "Japan's 12 Most Famous Samurai." All About Japan. 27 Aug. 2018. 27 July 2019 <https://allabout-japan.com/en/article/5818/>.Fig. 3. A detail from the “Index of Subjects of Crests.” Elven, John Peter. The Book of Family Crests: Comprising Nearly Every Family Bearing, Properly Blazoned and Explained, Accompanied by Upwards of Four Thousand Engravings. Henry Washbourne, 1847.The Pursuit of Prestige: Prosthetic Pedigree from the Late Georgian to the Victorian Eras In 1817, the seal engraver to Prince Regent, Alexander Deuchar, described the function of family crests in British Crests: Containing The Crest and Mottos of The Families of Great Britain and Ireland; Together with Those of The Principal Cities and Heraldic Terms as follows: The first approach to civilization is the distinction of ranks. So necessary is this to the welfare and existence of society, that, without it, anarchy and confusion must prevail… In an early stage, heraldic emblems were characteristic of the bearer… Certain ordinances were made, regulating the mode of bearing arms, and who were entitled to bear them. (i-v)The partitioning of social classes in Britain had deteriorated by the time this compendium was published, with displays of “conspicuous consumption” displacing “heraldic emblems” as a primary method of status signalling (Deuchar 2; Han et al. 18). A consumerism born of newfound affluence, and the desire to signify this wealth through luxury goods, was as integral to the Industrial Revolution as technological development. In Rebels against the Future, published in 1996, Kirkpatrick Sale described the phenomenon:A substantial part of the new population, though still a distinct minority, was made modestly affluent, in some places quite wealthy, by privatization of of the countryside and the industrialization of the cities, and by the sorts of commercial and other services that this called forth. The new money stimulated the consumer demand… that allowed a market economy of a scope not known before. (40)This also reflected improvements in the provision of “health, food [and] education” (Maslow; Snow 25-28). With their “physiological needs” accommodated, this ”substantial part” of the population were able to prioritised their “esteem needs” including the pursuit for prestige (Sale 40; Maslow).In Britain during the Middle Ages laws “specified in minute detail” what each class was permitted to wear (Han et al. 15). A groom, for example, was not able to wear clothing that exceeded two marks in value (Han et al. 15). In a distinct departure during the Industrial Era, it was common for the “middling and lower classes” to “ape” the “fashionable vices of their superiors” (Sale 41). Although mon-like labels that were “simplified so as to be conspicuous and instantly recognisable” emerged in Europe during the nineteenth century their application on garments remained discrete up until the early twentieth century (Christensen 13-14; Moore and Reid 24). During the 1920s, the French companies Hermes and Coco Chanel were amongst the clothing manufacturers to pioneer this principle (Chaney; Icon).During the 1860s, Lincolnshire-born Charles Frederick Worth affixed gold stamped labels to the insides of his garments (Polan et al. 9; Press). Operating from Paris, the innovation was consistent with the introduction of trademark laws in France in 1857 (Lopes et al.). He would become known as the “Father of Haute Couture”, creating dresses for royalty and celebrities including Empress Eugene from Constantinople, French actress Sarah Bernhardt and Australian Opera Singer Nellie Melba (Lopes et al.; Krick). The clothing labels proved and ineffective deterrent to counterfeit, and by the 1890s the House of Worth implemented other measures to authenticate their products (Press). The legitimisation of the origin of a product is, arguably, the primary function of branding. This principle is also applicable to subjects. The prothesis of brands, as totemic symbols, assisted consumers to relocate themselves within a new system of population distribution (Levi-Strauss 166). It was one born of commerce as opposed to heraldry.Selling of Self: Conferring Identity from the Neolithic to Modern ErasIn his 1817 compendium on family crests, Deuchar elaborated on heraldry by writing:Ignoble birth was considered as a stain almost indelible… Illustrious parentage, on the other hand, constituted the very basis of honour: it communicated peculiar rights and privileges, to which the meaner born man might not aspire. (v-vi)The Twinings Logo (fig. 4) has remained unchanged since the design was commissioned by the grandson of the company founder Richard Twining in 1787 (Twining). In addition to reflecting the heritage of the family-owned company, the brand indicated the origin of the tea. This became pertinent during the nineteenth century. Plantations began to operate from Assam to Ceylon (Jones 267-269). Amidst the rampant diversification of tea sources in the Victorian era, concerns about the “unhygienic practices” of Chinese producers were proliferated (Wengrow 11). Subsequently, the brand also offered consumers assurance in quality. Fig. 4. The Twinings Logo reproduced from "History of Twinings." Twinings. 24 July 2019 <https://www.twinings.co.uk/about-twinings/history-of-twinings>.The term ‘brand’, adapted from the Norse “brandr”, was introduced into the English language during the sixteenth century (Starcevic 179). At its most literal, it translates as to “burn down” (Starcevic 179). Using hot elements to singe markings onto animals been recorded as early as 2700 BCE in Egypt (Starcevic 182). However, archaeologists concur that the modern principle of branding predates this practice. The implementation of carved seals or stamps to make indelible impressions of handcrafted objects dates back to Prehistoric Mesopotamia (Starcevic 183; Wengrow 13). Similar traditions developed during the Bronze Age in both China and the Indus Valley (Starcevic 185). In all three civilisations branding facilitated both commerce and aspects of Totemism. In the sixth millennium BCE in “Prehistoric” Mesopotamia, referred to as the Halaf period, stone seals were carved to emulate organic form such as animal teeth (Wengrow 13-14). They were used to safeguard objects by “confer[ring] part of the bearer’s personality” (Wengrow 14). They were concurrently applied to secure the contents of vessels containing “exotic goods” used in transactions (Wengrow 15). Worn as amulets (figs. 5 & 6) the seals, and the symbols they produced, were a physical extension of their owners (Wengrow 14).Fig. 5. Recreation of stamp seal amulets from Neolithic Mesopotamia during the sixth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49.1 (2008): 14.Fig. 6. “Lot 25Y: Rare Syrian Steatite Amulet – Fertility God 5000 BCE.” The Salesroom. 27 July 2019 <https://www.the-saleroom.com/en-gb/auction-catalogues/artemis-gallery-ancient-art/catalogue-id-srartem10006/lot-a850d229-a303-4bae-b68c-a6130005c48a>. Fig. 7. Recreation of stamp seal designs from Mesopotamia from the late fifth to fourth millennium BCE. Wengrow, David. "Prehistories of Commodity Branding." Current Anthropology 49. 1 (2008): 16.In the following millennia, the seals would increase exponentially in application and aesthetic complexity (fig. 7) to support the development of household cum cottage industries (Wengrow 15). In addition to handcrafts, sealed vessels would transport consumables such as wine, aromatic oils and animal fats (Wengrow 18). The illustrations on the seals included depictions of rituals undertaken by human figures and/or allegories using animals. It can be ascertained that the transition in the Victorian Era from heraldry to commerce, from family to corporation, had precedence. By extension, consumers were able to participate in this process of value attribution using brands as signifiers. The principle remained prevalent during the modern and post-modern eras and can be respectively interpreted using structuralist and post-structuralist theory.Totemism to Simulacrum: The Evolution of Advertising from the Modern to Post-Modern Eras In 2011, Lisa Chaney wrote of the inception of the Coco Chanel logo (fig. 8) in her biography Chanel: An Intimate Life: A crucial element in the signature design of the Chanel No.5 bottle is the small black ‘C’ within a black circle set as the seal at the neck. On the top of the lid are two more ‘C’s, intertwined back to back… from at least 1924, the No5 bottles sported the unmistakable logo… these two ‘C’s referred to Gabrielle, – in other words Coco Chanel herself, and would become the logo for the House of Chanel. Chaney continued by describing Chanel’s fascination of totemic symbols as expressed through her use of tarot cards. She also “surrounded herself with objects ripe with meaning” such as representations of wheat and lions in reference prosperity and to her zodiac symbol ‘Leo’ respectively. Fig. 8. No5 Chanel Perfume, released in 1924, featured a seal-like logo attached to the bottle neck. “No5.” Chanel. 25 July 2019 <https://www.chanel.com/us/fragrance/p/120450/n5-parfum-grand-extrait/>.Fig. 9. This illustration of the bottle by Georges Goursat was published in a women’s magazine circa 1920s. “1921 Chanel No5.” Inside Chanel. 26 July 2019 <http://inside.chanel.com/en/timeline/1921_no5>; “La 4éme Fête de l’Histoire Samedi 16 et dimache 17 juin.” Ville de Perigueux. Musée d’art et d’archéologie du Périgord. 28 Mar. 2018. 26 July 2019 <https://www.perigueux-maap.fr/category/archives/page/5/>. This product was considered the “financial basis” of the Chanel “empire” which emerged during the second and third decades of the twentieth century (Tikkanen). Chanel is credited for revolutionising Haute Couture by introducing chic modern designs that emphasised “simplicity and comfort.” This was as opposed to the corseted highly embellished fashion that characterised the Victorian Era (Tikkanen). The lavish designs released by the House of Worth were, in and of themselves, “conspicuous” displays of “consumption” (Veblen 17). In contrast, the prestige and status associated with the “poor girl” look introduced by Chanel was invested in the story of the designer (Tikkanen). A primary example is her marinière or sailor’s blouse with a Breton stripe that epitomised her ascension from café singer to couturier (Tikkanen; Burstein 8). This signifier might have gone unobserved by less discerning consumers of fashion if it were not for branding. Not unlike the Prehistoric Mesopotamians, this iteration of branding is a process which “confer[s]” the “personality” of the designer into the garment (Wengrow 13 -14). The wearer of the garment is, in turn, is imbued by extension. Advertisers in the post-structuralist era embraced Levi-Strauss’s structuralist anthropological theories (Williamson 50). This is with particular reference to “bricolage” or the “preconditioning” of totemic symbols (Williamson 173; Pool 50). Subsequently, advertising creatives cum “bricoleur” employed his principles to imbue the brands with symbolic power. This symbolic capital was, arguably, transferable to the product and, ultimately, to its consumer (Williamson 173).Post-structuralist and semiotician Jean Baudrillard “exhaustively” critiqued brands and the advertising, or simulacrum, that embellished them between the late 1960s and early 1980s (Wengrow 10-11). In Simulacra and Simulation he wrote,it is the reflection of a profound reality; it masks and denatures a profound reality; it masks the absence of a profound reality; it has no relation to any reality whatsoever: it is its own pure simulacrum. (6)The symbolic power of the Chanel brand resonates in the ‘profound reality’ of her story. It is efficiently ‘denatured’ through becoming simplified, conspicuous and instantly recognisable. It is, as a logo, physically juxtaposed as simulacra onto apparel. This simulacrum, in turn, effects the ‘profound reality’ of the consumer. In 1899, economist Thorstein Veblen wrote in The Theory of the Leisure Class:Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods it the means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure… costly entertainments, such as potlatch or the ball, are peculiarly adapted to serve this end… he consumes vicariously for his host at the same time that he is witness to the consumption… he is also made to witness his host’s facility in etiquette. (47)Therefore, according to Veblen, it was the witnessing of “wasteful” consumption that “confers status” as opposed the primary conspicuous act (Han et al. 18). Despite television being in its experimental infancy advertising was at “the height of its powers” during the 1920s (Clark et al. 18; Hill 30). Post-World War I consumers, in America, experienced an unaccustomed level of prosperity and were unsuspecting of the motives of the newly formed advertising agencies (Clark et al. 18). Subsequently, the ‘witnessing’ of consumption could be constructed across a plethora of media from the newly emerged commercial radio to billboards (Hill viii–25). The resulting ‘status’ was ‘conferred’ onto brand logos. Women’s magazines, with a legacy dating back to 1828, were a primary locus (Hill 10).Belonging in a Post-Structuralist WorldIt is significant to note that, in a post-structuralist world, consumers do not exclusively seek upward mobility in their selection of brands. The establishment of counter-culture icon Levi-Strauss and Co. was concurrent to the emergence of both The House of Worth and Coco Chanel. The Bavarian-born Levi Strauss commenced selling apparel in San Francisco in 1853 (Levi’s). Two decades later, in partnership with Nevada born tailor Jacob Davis, he patented the “riveted-for-strength” workwear using blue denim (Levi’s). Although the ontology of ‘jeans’ is contested, references to “Jene Fustyan” date back the sixteenth century (Snyder 139). It involved the combining cotton, wool and linen to create “vestments” for Geonese sailors (Snyder 138). The Two Horse Logo (fig. 10), depicting them unable to pull apart a pair of jeans to symbolise strength, has been in continuous use by Levi Strauss & Co. company since its design in 1886 (Levi’s). Fig. 10. The Two Horse Logo by Levi Strauss & Co. has been in continuous use since 1886. Staff Unzipped. "Two Horses. One Message." Heritage. Levi Strauss & Co. 1 July 2011. 25 July 2019 <https://www.levistrauss.com/2011/07/01/two-horses-many-versions-one-message/>.The “rugged wear” would become the favoured apparel amongst miners at American Gold Rush (Muthu 6). Subsequently, between the 1930s – 1960s Hollywood films cultivated jeans as a symbol of “defiance” from Stage Coach staring John Wayne in 1939 to Rebel without A Cause staring James Dean in 1955 (Muthu 6; Edgar). Consequently, during the 1960s college students protesting in America (fig. 11) against the draft chose the attire to symbolise their solidarity with the working class (Hedarty). Notwithstanding a 1990s fashion revision of denim into a diversity of garments ranging from jackets to skirts, jeans have remained a wardrobe mainstay for the past half century (Hedarty; Muthu 10). Fig. 11. Although the brand label is not visible, jeans as initially introduced to the American Goldfields in the nineteenth century by Levi Strauss & Co. were cultivated as a symbol of defiance from the 1930s – 1960s. It documents an anti-war protest that occurred at the Pentagon in 1967. Cox, Savannah. "The Anti-Vietnam War Movement." ATI. 14 Dec. 2016. 16 July 2019 <https://allthatsinteresting.com/vietnam-war-protests#7>.In 2003, the journal Science published an article “Does Rejection Hurt? An Fmri Study of Social Exclusion” (Eisenberger et al.). The cross-institutional study demonstrated that the neurological reaction to rejection is indistinguishable to physical pain. Whereas during the 1940s Maslow classified the desire for “belonging” as secondary to “physiological needs,” early twenty-first century psychologists would suggest “[social] acceptance is a mechanism for survival” (Weir 50). In Simulacra and Simulation, Jean Baudrillard wrote: Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal… (1)In the intervening thirty-eight years since this document was published the artifice of our interactions has increased exponentially. In order to locate ‘belongness’ in this hyperreality, the identities of the seekers require a level of encoding. Brands, as signifiers, provide a vehicle.Whereas in Prehistoric Mesopotamia carved seals, worn as amulets, were used to extend the identity of a person, in post-digital China WeChat QR codes (fig. 12), stored in mobile phones, are used to facilitate transactions from exchanging contact details to commerce. Like other totems, they provide access to information such as locations, preferences, beliefs, marital status and financial circumstances. These individualised brands are the most recent incarnation of a technology that has developed over the past eight thousand years. The intermediary iteration, emblems affixed to garments, has remained prevalent since the twelfth century. Their continued salience is due to their visibility and, subsequent, accessibility as signifiers. Fig. 12. It may be posited that Wechat QR codes are a form individualised branding. Like other totems, they store information pertaining to the owner’s location, beliefs, preferences, marital status and financial circumstances. “Join Wechat groups using QR code on 2019.” Techwebsites. 26 July 2019 <https://techwebsites.net/join-wechat-group-qr-code/>.Fig. 13. Brands function effectively as signifiers is due to the international distribution of multinational corporations. This is the shopfront of Chanel in Dubai, which offers customers apparel bearing consistent insignia as the Parisian outlet at on Rue Cambon. Customers of Chanel can signify to each other with the confidence that their products will be recognised. “Chanel.” The Dubai Mall. 26 July 2019 <https://thedubaimall.com/en/shop/chanel>.Navigating a post-structuralist world of increasing mobility necessitates a rudimental understanding of these symbols. Whereas in the nineteenth century status was conveyed through consumption and witnessing consumption, from the twentieth century onwards the garnering of brands made this transaction immediate (Veblen 47; Han et al. 18). The bricolage of the brands is constructed by bricoleurs working in any number of contemporary creative fields such as advertising, filmmaking or song writing. They provide a system by which individuals can convey and recognise identities at prima facie. They enable the prosthesis of identity.ReferencesBaudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. United States: University of Michigan Press, 1994.Burstein, Jessica. Cold Modernism: Literature, Fashion, Art. United States: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012.Chaney, Lisa. Chanel: An Intimate Life. United Kingdom: Penguin Books Limited, 2011.Christensen, J.A. Cut-Art: An Introduction to Chung-Hua and Kiri-E. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1989. Clark, Eddie M., Timothy C. 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