This book discusses early modern
English drama as a part of visualculture. But what is visualculture,
and why use this phrase in place of the ‘fine arts’ or the
‘visual arts’? In part, this choice is motivated by
my concern with exploring the plays in their historical contexts.
Shakespeare and his contemporaries would not have recognised the phrase
‘fine arts’. Nor would
, which would become an ‘icon of Third World
suffering’, were the ‘watershed that turned the conflict into a global
media event’ (9).
It was neither the first nor the last time such images were used to draw Western
attention to distant suffering. Indeed, the path-breaking collection
Humanitarian Photography – which includes an essay by
Heerten on Biafra – takes a longer view by gathering historians to analyse the
visualculture of humanitarianism from the late nineteenth century to
Soaking up the rays forges a new path for exploring Britain’s fickle love of the light by investigating the beginnings of light therapy in the country from c.1890-1940. Despite rapidly becoming a leading treatment for tuberculosis, rickets and other infections and skin diseases, light therapy was a contentious medical practice. Bodily exposure to light, whether for therapeutic or aesthetic ends, persists as a contested subject to this day: recommended to counter psoriasis and other skin conditions as well as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and depression; closely linked to notions of beauty, happiness and well-being, fuelling tourism to sunny locales abroad and the tanning industry at home; and yet with repeated health warnings that it is a dangerous carcinogen. By analysing archival photographs, illustrated medical texts, advertisements, lamps, and goggles and their visual representation of how light acted upon the body, Woloshyn assesses their complicated contribution to the founding of light therapy. Soaking up the rays will appeal to those intrigued by medicine’s visual culture, especially academics and students of the histories of art and visual culture, material cultures, medicine, science and technology, and popular culture.
This book discusses early modern English drama as a part of visual culture. It concerns the ideas about 'making and unmaking' that Shakespeare and his contemporaries may have known and formulated, and how these ideas relate to the author's own critical assumptions about early modern aesthetic experience. The study of drama as a part of visual culture offers the perfect context for an exploration of pre-modern aesthetic discourse. The book expounds the author's approach to plays as participants in a lively post-Reformation visual culture in the process of 're-formation'. It then focuses on the social meanings of patronage of the visual arts in a discussion of Paulina as patron of Hermione's image in The Winter's Tale. The discussion of The Winter's Tale pivots around the play's troubling investment in patriarchal notions of 'perfection'. The book also explores image-breaking in Robert Greene's Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay. This play presents an instance of onstage iconoclasm in the supernatural destruction of a demonic brazen head, a quasi-magical figure that had been depicted in English literature since at least the twelfth century. In focusing on the portrayal of invisibility in The Two Merry Milkmaids, the book explores early modern preoccupation with processes of visual construction in a play in which there is very little artisanal activity.
James Baldwin was a vocal critic of Hollywood, but he was also a cinephile, and his critique of film was not so much of the medium itself, but of the uses to which it was put. Baldwin saw in film the chance to transform both politics and art—if only film could be transformed itself. This essay blends readings of archival materials, literature, film, and print culture to examine three distinct modes in Baldwin’s ongoing quest to revolutionize film. First, I argue, literature served as a key site to practice being a filmmaker, as Baldwin adapted cinematic grammars in his fiction and frequently penned scenes of filmgoing in which he could, in effect, direct his own movies. Secondly, I show that starting in the 1960s, Baldwin took a more direct route to making movies, as he composed screenplays, formed several production companies, and attempted to work in both Hollywood and the independent film scene in Europe. Finally, I explore how Baldwin sought to change cinema as a performer himself, in particular during his collaboration on Dick Fontaine and Pat Hartley’s documentary I Heard It Through the Grapevine (1982). This little-known film follows Baldwin as he revisits key sites from the civil rights movement and reconnects with activist friends as he endeavors to construct a revisionist history of race in America and to develop a media practice capable of honoring Black communities.
The Peterloo Massacre was more than just a Manchester event. The attendees, on
whom Manchester industry depended, came from a large spread of the wider textile
regions. The large demonstrations that followed in the autumn of 1819,
protesting against the actions of the authorities, were pan-regional and
national. The reaction to Peterloo established the massacre as firmly part of
the radical canon of martyrdom in the story of popular protest for democracy.
This article argues for the significance of Peterloo in fostering a sense of
regional and northern identities in England. Demonstrators expressed an
alternative patriotism to the anti-radical loyalism as defined by the
authorities and other opponents of mass collective action.
The newly digitised Manchester Observer (1818–22) was
England’s leading radical newspaper at the time of the Peterloo meeting
of August 1819, in which it played a central role. For a time it enjoyed the
highest circulation of any provincial newspaper, holding a position comparable
to that of the Chartist Northern Star twenty years later and
pioneering dual publication in Manchester and London. Its columns provide
insights into Manchester’s notoriously secretive local government and
policing and into the labour and radical movements of its turbulent times. Rich
materials in the Home Office papers in the National Archives reveal much about
the relationship between radicals in London and in the provinces, and show how
local magistrates conspired with government to hound the radical press in the
north as prosecutions in London ran into trouble. This article also sheds new
light on the founding of the Manchester Guardian, which endured
as the Observer’s successor more by avoiding its
disasters than by following its example. Despite the imprisonment of four of its
main editors and proprietors the Manchester Observer battled on
for five years before sinking in calmer water for lack of news.
Lewis Hine’s Photographs of Refugees for the American Red Cross, 1918–20
Sonya de Laat
imagine the refugee, or to recognize distinguishing characteristics of refugeedom (as opposed to immigration). At a time when refugees were making their way across the Atlantic to North America, this visual displacement had a material impact: contributing to restrictions on their acceptance into distant countries. For scholars working with humanitarian imagery or practitioners working with refugees, this look back provides historical perspective to the visualculture of refugees and a corrective to thinking that when ‘out of sight’ means a positive resolution to
represent bodies consuming therapeutic light – soaking up its rays –
and the natural surroundings and technological paraphernalia enabling such
exposures. Together they offer a salient point of entry into the history and
visualculture of light therapy in Britain during the early twentieth
century, the subject of this book. This supplement, which collapsed medical
and popular conceptions of light therapy, evinces the central role light
The major part of this book project was funded by the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under the Marie Sklodowska-Curie grant agreement No. 700913. This book is about two distinct but related professional cultures in late Soviet
Russia that were concerned with material objects: industrial design and
decorative art. The Russian avant-garde of the 1920s is broadly recognised to
have been Russia’s first truly original contribution to world culture. In
contrast, Soviet design of the post-war period is often dismissed as hackwork
and plagiarism that resulted in a shabby world of commodities. This book
identifies the second historical attempt at creating a powerful alternative to
capitalist commodities in the Cold War era. It offers a new perspective on the
history of Soviet material culture by focusing on the notion of the ‘comradely
object’ as an agent of progressive social relations that state-sponsored Soviet
design inherited from the avant-garde. It introduces a shared history of
domestic objects, handmade as well as machine-made, mass-produced as well as
unique, utilitarian as well as challenging the conventional notion of utility.
Situated at the intersection of intellectual history, social history and
material culture studies, this book elucidates the complexities and
contradictions of Soviet design that echoed international tendencies of the late
twentieth century. The book is addressed to design historians, art historians,
scholars of material culture, historians of Russia and the USSR, as well as
museum and gallery curators, artists and designers, and the broader public
interested in modern aesthetics, art and design, and/or the legacy of socialist