The Red House: Kumanjayi Walker and Zachary Rolfe: An Australian Reckoning

It is generally accepted that the creative arts make a positive contribution to regional well-being and a diverse range of actors (government bodies, commercial entities, artists, researchers) are active in this space. Given this, it is concerning that the voices of creative artists themselves are sometimes not heard in the conversation. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s work on “resistant speech” is important here for the strategic recourse it offers to a range of subalternate populations, including regional artists, women and children, and for its solidarity with modes of being reliant on qualitative research engagements. Admittedly, examples of creative work that dramatize and interrogate the problem of well-being across the divide between urban and regional areas are comparatively rare. One standout is Tony Birch’s short story “The Red House” (2006), in which a storyline of well-being under threat from domestic violence is interwoven with a peripatetic narrative of the characters’ movements within the city of Melbourne and between the regional community of Clunes and Melbourne. As the lead piece in Birch’s collection of linked stories, Shadowboxing, “The Red House” is a significant literary exploration of how a variety of human relationships and responses to place (regional and urban) might bring about, but also help to alleviate, the circumstances of domestic violence as a threat to the well-being of women and children. Even as it posits a link between regional life and well-being, “The Red House” eschews a simple binary opposition between bucolic Clunes and the inner-city grime and unease of Fitzroy. Some of the violence and threats to well-being sourced from Melbourne re-appear in Clunes, while certain props of well-being first experienced in Clunes are subtly reincorporated back into the red house in Fitzroy. The relationship between medical well-being (health) and well-being as a more general index of happiness, comfort and security is also explored. Birch’s story is a valuable, fine-grained creative analysis of well-being (extending from happiness, comfort and security to the negative well-being that is domestic violence), which is matched to an equally fine-grained engagement with multiple modalities of place. It contests certain more reductive definitions of the regional and challenges the reader to creatively re-think how regionalism and well-being might align.

Much has been written about Red House, the home of Jane and William Morris between 1859 and 1865, as an example of architectural innovation and a place of artistic fellowship. In accounts by Morris's contemporaries and subsequent scholars, Red House has also been represented as a site of conviviality, creativity and youthful idealism, where a utopian way of life proved unable to withstand the vagaries of mature responsibilities. This essay reconsiders the happy memories attached to Red House and explores how the affective investments that linked people, spaces and objects were created and enhanced by a shared process of creative improvisation there. Drawing on recent scholarly work on feelings, emotions and affect, this essay pays particular attention to the gendered experience of intimacy and creativity at Red House and seeks to redress a tendency to discount women's creative agency in the household. In the web of relationships at Red House, expressed and enacted through practices of creative labour and ...

ANALOGY AND "KINDS" OF THINGS T HE CONSIDERATIONS WHICH follow arose chiefly from reflections on two treatments of the problem of analogy by I. M. Bochenski. The first appeared in this journal over twenty years ago/ and the second formed an appendix to The Logic of Religion.2 Both are excellent analyses of the problem. Nevertheless, there are difficulties which seem to resist solution by means of the proposals put forth by Bochenski. It is these difficulties to which I address myself here, following which I consider three questions which stem from them and are of the utmost importance in achieving a proper cataloging of the problems of analogy. The purpose of such an enterprise is heuristic. It is to be hoped that my remarks, which are not definitive, can contribute somewhat to the motion of the ongoing debate on analogy, whether this be by means of further developing the scheme set forth by Bochenski, or by suggesting some alternate route to the heart of the problem. By way of brief summary of Bochenski's analysis, it should first be noted that it depends upon the following formulation of the workings of language. Words are construed as visual or auditory marks which "mean" certain properties of objects. This relation is expressed in the formulaS (a, f, x), or" a means f in x." Thus, "red" stands for the red of my car. Given a second expression which is meaningful, S (b, g, y) ,3 any relation which might obtain between the two terms a and b would be expressed by the formula R (a, b, f, g, x, y): "a which stands for f in x is related to b which stands for g in y." Univocal 1 "On Analogy," The Thomist, 11 (1948), pp. 424-447. Reprinted in LogicoPhilosophical Studies, ed. A. Menne (Dordrecht, 1961), pp. 97-117. • (New York, 1965), pp. 156-162. 3 Presumably there is a misprint in 50.12 of The Logic of Religion. Cf. "On Analogy," 4. 293 294 JAMES J. HEANEY terms would be those in which a and b were of the same form (" Isomorphic ") , and f and g were identical properties, while x and y were different objects: "red" in "a red house" and "a red car." Ambiguous or equivocal terms, among which he classes analogous expressions, are those in which a and b are isomorphic, while neither the properties f and g nor the objects x and y are identical: " red " in " a red house " and " a red herring." The relation of ambiguity or equivocation can thus be formalized as: (1) Am(a, b,f,g,x,y) for S(a,f,x) · S(b,g,y) ·· I(a,b) · f#g · x#y.4 In the earlier work he then tried to account for analogy in terms of this definition, adding only that there must be some further distinguishing factor to set analogy apart from other instances of equivocation, expressed as: (2) An(a,b,f,g,x,y) =Dt.Am(a,b,f,g,x,y) · F.5 The factor F is then interpreted according to the traditional notions of attribution and proportionality. A third move which appears in the earlier work, and continues on as the basis of the later, is the notion of analogy as "isomorphy." In it, very possibly because of the difficulties involved in treating analogous meaning as a subclass while defining it by means of an added characteristic, Bochenski has opted for a limitation of those terms to he considered analogous to relational predicates alone. Once again, analogy is defined in terms of equivocity, this time with the added stipulations that there must be relations involved, and that a further relation of " isomorphy " must hold between these relations. "Isomorphy" means that the relations have the same formal properties, e. g., transitivity, symmetry, reflexivity, ect., in common. The formula given to describe this is: • The Logic of Religion, 50.14; "On Analogy," 5.4. 5 " On Analogy," 8.2. The notation has been modified in favor of the simplicity of the later treatment. ANALOGY AND "KINDS" OF THINGS Q95 (3) An(a, b, f, g, x, y) = Dt. Ae (a, b, f, g, x...

Although children can combine words to express meanings like 'red house' or 'two cats', they do not represent number words compositionally (e.g. 'twenty-six' as 6+20) until late in development. One reason for this might be that smaller number words in most languages are not composed via rules, limiting children's exposure to the syntactic structure underlying larger number words. However, historically, many languages have featured number systems with smaller bases or anchors, thus relying more on rules to represent smaller numbers. Might children acquire rules for combining numbers sooner, when exposed to evidence of such rules? We explored this in two experiments. In experiment 1, children learned a system anchored at 2, and many children could compose small number words using a conjunctive rule-e.g. 'two-and-one apples'. Some older children could also comprehend novel multiplicative expressions-e.g. 'two twos of bananas'. Experiment 2 found that children applied additive rules even to a system of novel number words ('Monkey numbers') anchored at three. We suggest that children can acquire rules for composing number words when made salient in their input, sometimes even before they learn how to accurately count large sets.This article is part of the theme issue 'A solid base for scaling up: the structure of numeration systems'.

Where were Pedmark and Kayrrud? Walter W. Skeat took the first as Pointe de Penmarch, the southwestern tip of Brittany (nineteen miles southwest of Quimper), named after the village of Penmarch two miles inland. As for Kayrrud, Skeat could not find it on the map, but explained its name from Breton her 'town' and perhaps ruz 'red.'3 Since 1914 this subject has been dominated by the views of John S. P. Tatlock.4 He was sure Kayrrud meant 'red house' of red Roman brick (Modern Breton Karru). Because there are still places called Karru in Brittany, but none near Penmarch, he explained it as the name of a large building (now ruined) of red Roman brick near Penmarch rocks. Later scholars have attributed the difference between the termination of Middle

Red House occupies an extraordinary place in British architectural history. It was the first and only house that William Morris ever built. It was the first independent architectural commission from his friend, Philip Webb. The challenge of furnishing the house inspired Morris to found the design firm of Morris & Co. It had a great influence on the Arts & Crafts Movement. But it is also a house that captured William Morris's heart. He was only twenty-five when, in 1858 he decided to buy the site at Bexleyheath, just outside London, but in a rural Kentish setting. He had recently married Jane Burden, daughter of an Oxford ostler, whose particular beauty became inspiration for so much pre-Raphaelite art. With his young wife and his wealth he planned to produce a vision of earthly paradise at Red House. Rosetti described it as 'more a poem than a house', Morris called it 'our place of art', and when he was obliged to give it up for financial reasons in 1865, he resolved never to return. His biographer recorded that he could 'never set eyes on it again, confessing that the sight of it would be more than he could bear'. Red House was saved from an uncertain future in January 2003 by the National Trust, and has already opened its doors. Visitors will be able to see some of the original furnishings but many are now at Kelmscott Manor, the William Morris Gallery in Walthamstow, the Victoria & Albert Museum and other locations. This book, however, will provide both the story of Red House and a 'virtual tour' to enable the reader to see how the house looked and functioned when William Morris, his family and friends lived there. Jan Marsh is a biographer specialising in artists and writers. She has researched and written extensively on the Pre-Raphaelite circle, and also been guest curator for exhibitions. She is a Trustee of the William Morris gallery, Walthamstow; a fellow of the Royal Historical Society; and Visiting Professor at the Graduate Research Centre, University of Sussex. She held a Leverhulme Fellowship at the National Portrait Gallery, 2002-3. Recent publications include scholarly essays on Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies; May Morris and Marie Spartali Stillman.

Reviewed by: Thirty Years in a Red House: A Memoir of Childhood and Youth in Communist China Richard King (bio) Zhu Xiao Di . Thirty Years in a Red House: A Memoir of Childhood and Youth in Communist China. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1998. xiv, 255 pp. Hardcover $34.95, ISBN 1-55849-112-0. Thirty Years in a Red House joins an impressive and growing list of memoirs written since the mid-1980s by Chinese nationals born in the 1950s and now resident in the West, a list that includes Liang Heng and Judith Shapiro's Son of the Revolution, Jung Chang's Wild Swans, Gao Yuan's Born Red, Zhai Zhenhua's Red Flower of China, Anchee Min's Red Azalea, Rae Yang's Spider Eaters, and Ting-xing Ye's A Leaf in the Bitter Wind. Typically, the authors of these memoirs recall a life of relative tranquillity disrupted by the Cultural Revolution; they describe Red Guard excesses and the persecution of their families followed by years of banishment from the cities to state farms and cadre schools; then they conclude with political rehabilitation and the decision to leave China, often with the help of a Western partner. Catering to an apparently insatiable appetite in the book trade for tales of communist brutality, each reveals to a target audience unfamiliar with Chinese history the extraordinary events of the Maoist period, attempting to make as much sense as can be made of an age of paranoia, injustice, and mutual betrayal in which they and their families were victims. A cursory look at Zhu Xiao Di's book confirms his place in the company mentioned above. The title is appropriately red, and there is a selection of photographs featuring the author's family in unsmiling group poses and the author himself, from infancy to adulthood as he returns from America to his birthplace. There is also the incorporation of the family saga into a conventional retelling of the history of the nation and the author's hometown, in this case Nanjing. Most of the authors offer much the same basic fare, each with his (or, more frequently, her) experiences and literary artistry providing the distinctive regional and personal flavor that brings the reader back for another course at the same table. Zhu's narrative presents the predictable stories of unjustified accusation, cruelty, and humiliation. The first heady days of the Red Guard movement and the mass rallies in Tiananmen Square and the subsequent "sending down" to the countryside—staples in the writings of his slightly older contemporaries—appear here vicariously, through the experiences of the author's sister. So much is predictable; but what distinguishes this book from the others is its extraordinary degree of filial piety: the book is at heart a eulogy of the author's father Zhu Qiluan, and of the class of establishment intellectuals of which he appears as a shining example. When the author expresses his determination, common to almost all autobiographers, to "set the record straight" (p. 159), and provide his version of the past, it is principally his father's record that he seeks to elaborate. [End Page 281] Zhu presents his father in the most romantic terms that his age and class permit: he casts him in the image of Zhou Enlai. Not only does Zhu senior bear a physical resemblance to the founding premier of the People's Republic, he also embodies the qualities that feature in the mythology that built up around Zhou— a man of culture at home among the intelligentsia, a leader maintaining an austere lifestyle, and a public servant exhausting himself for the welfare of the nation. As if resemblance to Zhou Enlai were not enough, the author likens his father to another hero of the pre-Cultural Revolution establishment, comparing his oratory to that of Shanghai mayor and foreign minister Chen Yi. Like other members of this class, writing since their rehabilitation in the late 1970s, the author implies that if only they had been allowed to maintain control of the Chinese state, all might have been well, and the disasters he recounts would have been averted. But the author's loyal and honest...

Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns argues that the clash between different cultures is a key element of the films of Delmer Daves. He offers a dialectical account of these cultural clashes, suggesting that Daves dramatises social progress by conceiving it as the passage from one social stage to another that supplants, in an act of improvement, the preceding one. Through analysis of three of his films from three different decades and representing three different genres – The Red House, The Hanging Tree, and Spencer’s Mountain – Berns demonstrates the sustained and consistent authorial concern that Daves felt for the betterment of society. What was required, Daves felt, was a community constantly willing to work to achieve social concord. In this regard, Berns’ analysis is one that is contextualised in America’s post-War years, representing a period in which hope was held out for a better society.

In October 2010 the government confirmed it would introduce a “pupil premium” payable to schools with disadvantaged pupils. This shift towards resourcing by group rather than area may mark the closing of another chapter in efforts to produce a more meritocratic education system utilising what might be termed intermediate institutions. Their predecessors opened more than 3500 Children’s Centres to develop new strategies for working with the families of preschool children in order to alter long-term educational trajectories. This paper reflects on an earlier chapter in public efforts to secure greater educational equality, the first three years of the Red House Education Centre in Denaby Main, a mining village in Yorkshire’s West Riding, in the period 1969 to 1972. Red House was the most significant development arising from the West Riding Educational Priority Area (WREPA) Project and was an example of area-based positive discrimination. The paper explores two key questions. Can schools be re-positioned so that they offer the community an opportunity to develop as active participants in reshaped democratic processes, or are new institutional forms required? Did Red House offer parents and professionals the opportunity to improve educational outcomes in a neutral space where both felt a sense of ownership?

E. Nesbit, the Bastables, and The Red House:A Response Julia Briggs (bio) It is at once a pleasure and a responsibility to respond to two papers that address E. Nesbit's cross-writing, as demonstrated in Nesbit's description of the Bastables' visit to the Red House in the novel of that name. It is a pleasure to find Nesbit's work being treated with the seriousness it deserves, and a responsibility because any response risks narrowing, rather than opening up, the field. Mavis Reimer and Erika Rothwell contribute valuably to ongoing theoretical discussions concerning the construction of the child at the end of the last century; they set the figure of the child in the perspectives of empire and of earlier writing for children, and they explore the question of persuasion or even coercion implicit in the adult writer's address to the child reader. These are key issues, and their very centrality permits a response more closely focused upon the initial circumstances of publication of The Story of the Treasure Seekers as a text generated by and within a context of cross-writing. I am conscious of pursuing a rather different line of argument, but my approach through intertextuality and publishing history, which is intended to complement rather than to counter the arguments Reimer and Rothwell establish, is made possible by their more fundamental concern to define the relationship between adult and child as figured in Nesbit's The Story of the Treasure Seekers, The Red House, and The New Treasure Seekers. Yes, these stories are good. They are written on a rather original idea, on a line off the common run. Here we have the life of a family of children told by themselves in a candid, ingenuous and very amusing style. Of course, no child would write as E. Nesbit writes, but the result is that we have drawn for us a very charming picture of English family life . . . the stories are individual—they will please every grown up who reads them. Edward Garnett, Reader's Report to Fisher Unwin on Seven Stories from the Pall Mall Magazine, 1898 [End Page 71] Garnett, a famous talent-spotter, seizes at once on the point made by Erika Rothwell at the outset of her essay: the stories that became The Story of the Treasure Seekers were addressed to children and adults simultaneously, with the expectation that they would be read in different ways, like a pantomime that includes different types of jokes for different age groups. Unfortunately Nesbit left no record of the process by which she transformed her writing for children from the flat, simplistic narratives of her early work for Raphael Tuck and Ernest Nister to the complex and self-conscious rhetoric of Oswald Bastable, whose literary sense apparently directs him to relate his own story as a third-person narrative. She was, however, an ardent admirer of Henry James, whose work in the 1890s, particularly What Maisie Knew (1897) and The Turn of the Screw (1898) exploits the possibilities of literary misreadings created by unreliable narrators and the conflicting interpretations of events by children and adults. Put to comic purpose, these devices dominate the narrative practice of The Story of the Treasure Seekers (1899), creating a cross-writing that simultaneously addresses adult and child readers by conferring on Oswald (and through him on his siblings) the full subjecthood implicit in a first-person narrative, a narrative that invites the child-reader to identify with Oswald or his siblings. (When he is referred to in the third person or as a child among children confronting the adult world, however, Oswald is seen from an adult perspective as comically smaller and less significant than he supposes, as an amusing little boy, as "Other"; as Rothwell puts it, "the joke is often between the adult reader and the author at Oswald's expense.") Nesbit's introduction of the Bastables into her sentimental novel The Red House (1902) could thus be considered the logical outcome of a narrative strategy that had originated with their invention. Chloe's exclamation, "Aren't they perfect dears? . . . I don't like the Morrison boy—but the others are lovely" (175) is thus...

The Red House neighbourhood in the Ximen shopping district, located on the south side of Taipei, has been the centre of the city’s vibrant culture of sexual inclusivity and gay activism since the early 2000s. Next to the shining billboards at Ximen Square, the Red House presents itself as a reminder of the neighbourhood’s historical transformation from a marketplace during the Japanese colonial rule in Taiwan (1895–1945) to a major pornography theatre in the 1970s–1990s, while emerging as a new urban centre for youth culture, entertainment and outdoor gay bars in the 2000s. Addressing issues of urban exclusion and inclusion, this paper focuses on an HIV testing booth located in the Red House area. Based on interviews with social workers and drawing analyses from archival research, this paper reflects on the politics of a place of caring. Providing 15-minute HIV testing sessions free for anyone in the gay community, the testing booth is an outpost of the Taiwan AIDS Foundation, a nongovernmental organisation that receives public funds. Despite the fact that HIV tests are now widely available for purchase – even accessible from vending machines – the testing booth’s cosy, discretionary and friendly manner renders it a place of caring, where one can be attended by social workers as well as receiving a consultation.

There is no definite opinion concerning the starting point of the "Queen Anne" movement. But architectural exhibition at the Royal Academy in 1873 was an important evident for the social recognition of the "Queen Anne". The central figuares of this event were John James Stevenson and Edward Robert Robson. J. J. Stevenson was energetic for making "Queen Anne" popular as a writer and an architect. His own house the "Red House" in Bayswater was one of the first example of the town house in that style. After the Red House, Stevenson designed many houses in London in the same manner. E. R. Robson, on the other hand, was an architect of the London School Board established as the result of the Education Act of 1870. His design for the Board Schools were typical "Queen Anne". J. J. Stevenson helped him in designing schools, so both were responsible for that design. Both Stevenson and Robson made great contribution for establishing the "Queen Anne" style in London and for making it popular in London. The "Queen Anne" was essentially a style for town buildings, and here was the key why this style was so rapidly accepted in 1870s.

The circadian rhythms of body functions in mammals are controlled by the circadian system. The suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN) in the hypothalamus orchestrates subordinate oscillators. Time information is conveyed from the retina to the SCN to coordinate an organism’s physiology and behavior with the light/dark cycle. At the cellular level, molecular clockwork composed of interlocked transcriptional/translational feedback loops of clock genes drives rhythmic gene expression. Mice with targeted deletion of the essential clock gene Bmal1 (Bmal1−/−) have an impaired light input pathway into the circadian system and show a loss of circadian rhythms. The red house (RH) is an animal welfare measure widely used for rodents as a hiding place. Red plastic provides light at a low irradiance and long wavelength—conditions which affect the circadian system. It is not known yet whether the RH affects rhythmic behavior in mice with a corrupted circadian system. Here, we analyzed whether the RH affects spontaneous locomotor activity in Bmal1−/− mice under standard laboratory light conditions. In addition, mPER1- and p-ERK-immunoreactions, as markers for rhythmic SCN neuronal activity, and day/night plasma corticosterone levels were evaluated. Our findings indicate that application of the RH to Bmal1−/− abolishes rhythmic locomotor behavior and dampens rhythmic SCN neuronal activity. However, RH had no effect on the day/night difference in corticosterone levels.

As a stylistic form of representing the past, the Gothic Revival emerged as a reaction to the aftermath of the Industrial Revolution, by establishing a sense of morality in architecture and urbanism.Its rise and development in the High Victorian period therefore represented a form of social nobility to the profession.This paper examines the construction of nobility in British architectural history and its implantation and evolution in the urban East.The Red House and its located city, Taipei, in Taiwan, in which inscribed its modern urban history and development on the building, is selected as a case.This study surveys the interplay between the moral/colonial nobility mentioned above and the de facto social circumstances in post-war urban Taipei, and as such describes the spatiotemporal trajectory of Victorian influence on urban Asia, from colonial times to the present.

Mammal ReviewVolume 20, Issue 1 p. 31-43 The International Whaling Commission–quo vadis? R. GAMBELL, R. GAMBELL International Whaling Commission, The Red House, Station Rd, Histon, Cambridge CB4 4NP, U.K.Search for more papers by this author R. GAMBELL, R. GAMBELL International Whaling Commission, The Red House, Station Rd, Histon, Cambridge CB4 4NP, U.K.Search for more papers by this author First published: March 1990 https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2907.1990.tb00101.xCitations: 6AboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditWechat Citing Literature Volume20, Issue1March 1990Pages 31-43 RelatedInformation