scholarly journals O cinema feminino como um retrato de si: o enquadramento feminino em 'Retrato de uma jovem em chamas'

2020 ◽  
Vol 2 (2) ◽  
pp. 2-36
Author(s):  
Ana Paula Penkala ◽  
Isadora Ebersol

Retrato de uma jovem em chamas, filme de Céline Sciamma, propõe a discussão sobre o “olhar feminino”, tanto na pintura quanto no cinema. O artigo parte da perspectiva dos Estudos Feministas e busca correlações entre o filme e o cânone da literatura, da pintura e do cinema e o sistema patriarcal que lhes dá suporte. Observa como esse cânone instrumentaliza um culto à passividade feminina e sua inscrição enquanto objeto na História, estetizando “a mulher morta” como índice dessa representação. Parte da hipótese de que a imagem da mulher pode ser aprofundada pela narrativa de autoria feminina enquanto lugar de resistência política. Busca posicionar-se contra o apagamento das experiências lésbicas, ao torná-las visíveis e construir sentido sobre elas.Palavras-chave: Olhar Feminino. Cinema. Pintura. Cânone. Experiência Lésbica. AbstractPortrait of a lady on fire, film by Céline Sciamma, proposes a discussion on the “female gaze”, both in painting and in cinema. The article is based on the Feminist Studies perspective and seeks correlations between film and the canon of literature, painting, and cinema, and the patriarchal system that supports them. It observes how this canon instrumentalizes a cult of female passivity and its inscription as an object in history, aestheticizing “the dead woman” as an index of this representation. It is based on the hypothesis that the image of women can be deepened by the female authorship narrative as a site of political resistance. It seeks to position itself against the erasure of lesbian experiences, by making them visible and building meaning upon them.Keywords: Female Gaze. Cinema. Painting. Canon. Lesbian Experience.

2021 ◽  
Vol 26 (1) ◽  
pp. 51-71
Author(s):  
Hwansoo Kim

Abstract Kim Iryŏp (Kim Wŏnju, 1896‒1971) was a pioneering feminist and prolific writer who left lay life to become a Buddhist nun. The bifurcation of her life between the secular and religious has generated two separate narratives, with Korean feminist studies focusing on Iryŏp as a revolutionary thinker and Buddhist studies centering on Iryŏp as an influential Buddhist nun. When divided this way, the biography of each career reads more simply. However, by including two significant but unexplored pieces of her history that traverse the two halves of her narrative, Iryŏp emerges as a more complex figure. The first is her forty-five-year relationship with the Buddhist monk Paek Sŏng’uk (1897‒1981). The second is how she extended some of her early feminism into monastic life but said little about the marginalization of nuns in Buddhism’s highly patriarchal system. In both her relationship with Paek and her feminism, Iryŏp drew on the Buddhist teaching of nonself, in which the “big I” is beyond gender. Thus, Iryŏp repositions herself as having attained big I, while Paek remained stuck in “small I.” Yet, while she finds equality with monks through an androgynous big I, none of her writings contest Korean Buddhism’s androcentric institutional structure.


Author(s):  
Dennis Harding

Archaeological investigation is sometimes likened to opening a window on to the past. The problem is that, except in cases of unexpected and sudden disaster, for example where a shipwreck has been preserved untouched or a town was engulfed by volcanic ash, the archaeologist never examines a site as it was in its living heyday, only as it was after it had been abandoned, leaving only what survives of what its occupants chose to leave behind. Burials likewise represent only what communities chose to deposit for whatever reason, modified by taphonomic factors that determine the state of surviving evidence. Other ephemeral forms of disposal, and any elaborate or protracted rituals that preceded the final act of deposition that did not involve substantive structures, will pass unremarked in the archaeological record. It has been suggested in Chapter 1 that human remains may have been buried either in a dedicated cemetery where the dead were segregated or confined, perhaps in the equivalent of consecrated ground, or integrated within the environs of settlements, whether as complete or near-complete bodies or as fragmented parts or individual bones. A third option, of course, and one which would certainly contribute to the difficulty of tracing a regular burial rite archaeologically, would be segregated burial on an individual basis rather than in a community group, however small or selective. The concept of a cemetery assumes a degree of social cohesion in Iron Age practice which may not have been universal. An obvious question must be why should there have been these alternatives, and what might have governed the decision as to which alternative should be adopted? Ethnographic analogies suggest that the spirits of the dead could have been regarded as malevolent, more especially during the interim phase between death and completion of decomposition. So it might make sense to consign the dead directly to a dedicated cemetery that was detached from the settlement, or to confine them initially within a secure location, such as a hillfort, for excarnation or interim burial, before final disposal.


Author(s):  
Sarah J. Townsend

Teatro da Experiência was a 275-seat theater housed in the Clube dos Artistas Modernos, a controversial club for ‘modern artists’ in São Paulo (Brazil) that served as a site of intense intellectual and political activity from November 1932 to December 1933. Directed by the architect and multimedia artist Flávio de Carvalho, it played an important (if often overlooked) role as one of only a handful of theater projects linked to the movement known as Brazilian modernismo. In November 1932, only days after opening its doors, the theater was forced to shut down when police interrupted a performance of Bailado do Deus Morto (Dance of the Dead God), a ritualistic performance piece written by Carvalho and enacted by an almost entirely black cast. The closure of Teatro da Experiência was a sign of the increasingly repressive atmosphere that had begun to develop under the soon-to-be dictator Getúlio Vargas, and it spelled the end of efforts to stage experimental theater in Brazil for a decade.


2018 ◽  
Vol 72 (4) ◽  
pp. 515-538
Author(s):  
Shari Goldberg

Shari Goldberg, “Henry James’s Black Dresses: Mourning without Grief” (pp. 515–538) While scholars have carefully discerned how nineteenth-century modes of mourning differ from Sigmund Freud’s later model, the distinction between mourning and grief, in texts of the period and beyond, tends to be collapsed. This essay argues that Henry James disentangles the two terms by insisting on mourning’s association with ritualistic, social behavior, most iconically the wearing of a black dress. In James’s writing, to be “in mourning” generally means to be physically within such a dress, without reference to one’s emotional state. His use of the phrase, particularly in “The Altar of the Dead” (1895) and “Maud-Evelyn” (1900), thus offers ways of thinking through responses to death apart from grief. One is that the black dress can obscure, rather than advertise, the wearer’s feelings. Another is that such garments may facilitate ongoing relationships with persons now dead. Such processes of mourning without grief are nearly impossible to recognize after the advent of psychoanalysis, yet this essay concludes by finding evidence of their circulation in today’s political resistance.


1994 ◽  
Vol 64 (4) ◽  
pp. 427-450 ◽  
Author(s):  
Sondra Perl

In this article, Sondra Perl draws on the work of theorists in composition studies, reader response theory, critical pedagogy, and feminist studies to explicate a pedagogy that incorporates her own learning and development with that of her adult students. She emphasizes not only the importance of her students' responding critically to various literary texts, but also the importance of teachers' critically analyzing the texts of their teaching practice. Perl asserts that a classroom of adult learners has the potential to be a supportive milieu in which both students and teachers use writing as a way of brining their own experience to their interpretation of texts. In this way, Perl believes, students and teachers alike author their coming together, and the classroom becomes a site in which they compose not only texts, but also themselves.


2000 ◽  
Vol 32 (4) ◽  
pp. 574-575
Author(s):  
Camilla Gibb

Jeffrey Nedoroscik's book is a sensitive sociological survey of life in Cairo's City of the Dead, where more than 500,000 people are now enlisted to reside. In an attempt to both demystify and account for this phenomenon, Nedoroscik argues that life in the City of the Dead is as old, and as rich, as life in Cairo itself. Today, residence in and among the family tombs stretching across some five square miles at the base of the muqattam Hills, constitutes an informal housing sector that has developed as a response to Cairo's severe housing crisis. Historically, though, the cemetery also teemed with life as a religious center housing some of the Muslim world's most important monuments, and a site of temporary and permanent shelter to relatives to the deceased, guardians of tombs, itinerants, the poor, the sick, Sufis, and other religious leaders.


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Zoe Jaye Moller

<p>The architecture of cremation has struggled to embrace an identity; it has remained ambiguous in its architectural typology and religious association since it was first introduced into western society. Additionally, the absence of a ritual place for death in urban life is one manifestation of the contemporary idea that death does not belong in the modern living city. Death is seen as having no place in a society obsessed with youth and vigour; it has become an architectural taboo. The increased reluctance to physically address death as the inevitable consequence to life has resulted in death associated architecture eroding to the point where it has become absent in our everyday lives.   With the expansion of Wellington during the 1800’s, cemeteries formerly on the outskirts (Mount and Bolton Streets) became engulfed by the sprawling city. Overflowing with corpses by the 1900’s, these sites now remain dormant, eliminating any opportunity for the public to ‘see’ death daily. Situating a crematorium within a Wellington urban context will not only address this issue, but also successfully meet the demand for more burial spaces, as Makara Cemetery is nearing capacity, and Karori Cemetery is already full. A site located in the ‘dead centre’ of Wellington’s central business district becomes the testing ground for a new urban crematorium – one that aims to reduce the anxiety around death by inclusion of it within people’s everyday lives. It aims to provide mourners with a more meaningful experience, and the general public a cosmopolitan necropolis. The presence of an urban crematorium and columbarium provides continual opportunities for people to reflect on their own mortality, honour and remember the dead, and be reminded to live while they can.   A methodological approach of testing architectural sequences in relation to pattern language theory will allow for a thematic progression for mourners from sorrow to acceptance through the use of light, shadow, and sectional arrangements. This investigation into the meaningfulness of relationships between people and buildings, life and death, translates into spaces ready to be further invested with meaning by mourners.</p>


Africa ◽  
2021 ◽  
Vol 91 (4) ◽  
pp. 553-574 ◽  
Author(s):  
Benedito Machava ◽  
Euclides Gonçalves

AbstractTranslated from the Portuguese expression arquivo morto, the dead archive is a site where files that have lost their procedural validity are stored for a determined number of years before they are destroyed or are sent to permanent archives. In Mozambique, where awareness and institutional capacity for proper archival procedures are still being developed, a common feature of the dead archive is the way in which files are untidily piled up with old typewriters, furniture, spare parts and other material debris of bureaucratic work and administration. In these archives, more than forty years of institutional and public memory lie ignored in leaky, damp basements across the country and in serious danger of irreparable damage. Drawing from various stints of historical and anthropological field research conducted between 2009 and 2016 in Maputo, Niassa and Inhambane provinces, this article examines the dead archive in order to explore the relationship between institutional memory and governance during the long period of austerity in Mozambique. Based on our investigation of the multiple layers of the dead archive, we argue that the Mozambican post-socialist government has sought to control institutional memory as a way to keep the ruling party in power in the context of multiparty politics. While the public sector has experienced conditions of austerity since independence, we show how, during the socialist period (1975–90) of single-party rule, the state's relationship with institutional memory was more progressive, with transparent and communicative archival practices. In contrast, despite the combination of public sector reforms and progressive legislation regarding the right to information, the multiparty democratic period (1990 to the present) has seen an exacerbation of administrative secrecy leading to less transparent and communicative archival practices.


2020 ◽  
Vol 9 ◽  
pp. LW&D.CM60-LW&D.CM69
Author(s):  
James Metcalf

The churchyard has always been a site of pilgrimage. The remains of the dead, sanctified as holy relics, conferred a hallowed status on their location in the earth; this, in turn, became a destination for travellers. By the eighteenth century, ‘pilgrims’ consciously mapped their interest in literary remains onto these sacred spaces, drawing their pursuit of literary tourism into a long history of travel to the realms of the venerated dead. Using a series of photographs, I retrace my churchyard pilgrimages in London and Thomas Gray’s Stoke Poges, reflecting on the context of thanatourism and thinking about the ways in which the places of the dead—chief among them the churchyard—still mean today.


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Zoe Jaye Moller

<p>The architecture of cremation has struggled to embrace an identity; it has remained ambiguous in its architectural typology and religious association since it was first introduced into western society. Additionally, the absence of a ritual place for death in urban life is one manifestation of the contemporary idea that death does not belong in the modern living city. Death is seen as having no place in a society obsessed with youth and vigour; it has become an architectural taboo. The increased reluctance to physically address death as the inevitable consequence to life has resulted in death associated architecture eroding to the point where it has become absent in our everyday lives.   With the expansion of Wellington during the 1800’s, cemeteries formerly on the outskirts (Mount and Bolton Streets) became engulfed by the sprawling city. Overflowing with corpses by the 1900’s, these sites now remain dormant, eliminating any opportunity for the public to ‘see’ death daily. Situating a crematorium within a Wellington urban context will not only address this issue, but also successfully meet the demand for more burial spaces, as Makara Cemetery is nearing capacity, and Karori Cemetery is already full. A site located in the ‘dead centre’ of Wellington’s central business district becomes the testing ground for a new urban crematorium – one that aims to reduce the anxiety around death by inclusion of it within people’s everyday lives. It aims to provide mourners with a more meaningful experience, and the general public a cosmopolitan necropolis. The presence of an urban crematorium and columbarium provides continual opportunities for people to reflect on their own mortality, honour and remember the dead, and be reminded to live while they can.   A methodological approach of testing architectural sequences in relation to pattern language theory will allow for a thematic progression for mourners from sorrow to acceptance through the use of light, shadow, and sectional arrangements. This investigation into the meaningfulness of relationships between people and buildings, life and death, translates into spaces ready to be further invested with meaning by mourners.</p>


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