Where to Buy Oil Painting Reproductions?

Reproductions of famous paintings are a great gift idea, and their quality is second to none. Choose from famous works from different periods and genres, including Impressionism, Modern & Abstract Art, Cubism, Baroque, and Orientalism. Reproductions from popular artists include Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet, Gustav Klimt, and more. Reproductions of oil paintings offer a safe and legal way to own a piece of art.

While it’s possible to get oil painting reproductions for as little as $200, the quality is probably not going to be up to par. So how can you know if you’re getting a quality reproduction? The best way to tell is to compare the replica to the original. This is particularly important for oil paintings as they’re difficult to recreate. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t be fooled by a company’s extravagant claims.

Outpost Art (www.outpost-art.org) offers fine art oil painting reproductions and original paintings, including portraits from photographs. Their extensive library of paintings and sculptures covers the entire history of art, from ancient times to the modern day. Commissioned oil paintings are available as well. Whether you want to commemorate a special event or simply want to keep a treasured photo close to your heart, Outpost Art has something for you. You’ll find original masterpieces and reproductions of famous paintings from every period of art history.

Reproductions from famous paintings are available in all sizes and media. The studio has professional artists based in Xiamen, China. Their oil paintings are produced according to a thorough and detailed process. Each painting has a serial number beneath the thumbnail, which can be helpful when using the reproductions. Reproductions can also include step-by-step process of painting. You can choose a portrait or an original work of art.

Where Did Van Gogh Paint Starry Night?

One of the most famous paintings in the world is Van Gogh’s famous Starry Night, which is now considered a modern masterpiece. The painting is a reflection of the artist’s mood and time. The artist had been suffering from a mental breakdown and created his masterpieces in a period of intense agitation. He used precise gradations of luminescence to convey the emotion of the scene. In addition to its iconic nature, the painting’s stylized cypress tree – associated with his suicide – is a reference to the artist’s own remembrance of his life.

Van Gogh painted The Starry Night several times, each time making the scene appear slightly different. It was painted just a year before his death, but it has captured the imagination of viewers for nearly a century. His wife, Jo van Gogh-Bonger, inherited the work after his death. In the painting, the artist depicted a small hillside village with a stunning night sky.

Though he produced hundreds of paintings during his lifetime, he never achieved wide success. His work became popular only after his death. Today, The Starry Night is regarded as one of van Gogh’s most significant works. The vibrant colors of the painting contrast with the gray tones of the night sky. Its vivid colors reflect the artist’s mood and his search for hope. A study of his painting will help you understand the meaning behind the masterpiece.

How to Choose Feng Shui Paintings For Your Home

If you’re thinking about Feng Shui home, there are several things to keep in mind. As with any form of art, the placement is crucial. It’s best to avoid placing paintings with threatening or negative symbols in your bedroom, as they will only create a distraction and can even aggravate existing problems. There are some Feng Shui principles to follow when choosing feng shui paintings, however.

First of all, avoid placing ferocious animals on your walls. This can create an uneasy feeling and make you feel like you are constantly being watched. Additionally, avoid hanging a painting of the sun setting, black crow, or skeleton. It’s best to avoid anything that depicts darkness, as this is considered a negative energy. It’s also important to remember to keep a balance between the 5 elements and the colors of your feng shui paintings.

The first thing to remember when choosing feng shui paintings is to pick a painting that matches your intentions. Choose a piece that represents the things you wish to achieve and have in your life. For example, if you want to attract love, you should buy a painting that portrays a happy couple. This way, your room will look more harmonious. Then, you can choose a painting that is a combination of these two, ensuring that your feng shui artworks are complementary to one another.

It’s important to avoid displaying paintings of ferocious animals on your walls. While they may look pretty, they can actually create an uncomfortable environment. By contrast, a painting with animals in it can cause feelings of loneliness or insecurity. If you’re looking for a feng shui painting with auspicious colors, try silk folding screens. These are the best way to ensure authenticity and high design.

The main subject of feng shui paintings is the koi pond. Its calming effects are associated with the red color of koi. Similarly, a blue painting can be used in the bedroom as it represents water. The south is the elemental base of the house. The color of a feng shui painting should match that of the wall. The bedroom is in the south of the house, and a blue painting will be more effective in cooling down the fire.

In feng shui, colors play a vital role. A beautiful landscape will promote good vibes and bring good luck to your home. A beautiful pond or river will represent your landlord. It’s also best to choose a feng shui painting that represents the colors of your home. This will ensure that your feng shui paintings are appropriate for your home. If you are looking for a more decorative, artistic, and calming painting, then you should consider a silk folding screen.

Women: photography and representation in Africa

Professional photography in Africa is a business that has flourished despite numerous proclamations of the apparent extinction of ‘tribal’ cultures. It has served to package a land as myth, to distance and give entrance to the observer. This has in turn led to a greater demand for exotic photographs in order to satiate the thirst of the curious.

Some of the most famous photographers in this field are women, although paradoxically their subjects are almost always men. They have created a myth of ‘culture’ as homogeneous, monolithic and static, exploiting the fact that the audience is unfamiliar with the material. Luring the unsuspecting public with technically brilliant and stunning masterpieces of photography, which are often presented as narrative or chronicle, they become definitive ‘documents’, often poorly researched, of the lives of groups of people.

On this account, both the photographer and the spectator are culpable willing participants in a game of power.

The spectator’s guilt lies in the acceptance of photographic evidence alone as a fixed ‘tribal’ culture. Underlying this is the acceptance of notions of the ‘traditional’ and the belief in the holistic non-fragmentary nature of society.

It is however the photographer who sets the agenda. With her rests the responsibility of representing fairly the lives of the host culture. But it is also to her that one can trace the immediate disempowerment of that culture.

Every photographer is guilty of having selected certain moments over others and of forcing the non-participation of the subject in the process of selection. However, in Africa, the problem is exacerbated by the photographer’s disturbing lack of compunction in witnessing and stealing intimate moments unauthorised by the subject; (eg. secret ceremonies). These same photographers eroticise their subjects. In both instances with a lack of commitment or understanding of the subject matter. These practices are damaging.

It is hardly surprising that it is in the ‘Third World’ that women photographers have made their mark. Only in these liminal zones, these areas which have often forced role reversal can women, exploiting the example of their foremothers, and confident in the knowledge of the invincibility and supremacy of white culture, dare to go where angels fear to tread, never questioning their right of access to or the limits of their intrusion into the lives of the host culture.

One of the most famous early photographers, commissioned to document the Nuba of Sudan was the shining star of Hitler’s Germany, Leni Reifenstahl, whose book The Last of the Nuba proudly proclaims their demise. They do still exist but, under the influence of those like Riefenstahl and under the unremitting exposure offered by the clicking cameras of the curious their way of life has changed significantly.

In the same tradition of ‘objective’ photography which purports to document the lives of differing groups or ‘tribes’, those such as Mirella Riccardi (Vanishing Africa) and Caroline Beckwith (The Maasai and Nomads of the Niger) have flourished.

Like Riefenstahl, they are photographers of the highest calibre who have selected instances of haunting beauty as a means to isolate routine moments and to make them aesthetic material. Their books both implicitly and explicitly testify to this ideal. For example, Nomads of the Niger states: “this extraordinary book is the first to be published about a unique and colourful people–the Woodabe of Niger, in Sub Saharan Africa. Among the few surviving nomads in the world, these tall, slender, handsome desert dwellers live as they have for centuries, moving their herds across a parched landscape.”

This quotation suggests many of the concerns which must be seen as primary to the photographer if her work is to be commercially successful. It articulates a framework within which she is programmed to operate. Although the book involved two years of research, what predominates is a central concern to present colour, beauty and harsh landscape. The inference must therefore be that the photographers have discarded those pictures that present images of affliction, squalor or despair.

Secondly, these photographers operate within the premise that cultures exist in a temporal vacuum, giving a static, a-historical assessment to the lives of individuals and groups.

Thirdly, it presents a group and their environments as homogeneous (particularly in visual terms).

In brief, these photographers propose that selected images of a people at a given time can document the ‘lives’ of the ‘Woodabe’.

The most recent and most questionable exponent of this brand of travel journalism (or research, as the case may be) is Vivienne Sharpe (‘The Observer’ et al) who currently has been lecturing in London. An example of the esteem in which the host culture is held is offered by her comments on the presentation of a slide at the Horniman Museum:

“End hyere we hyeve a picture of the guard’s uniform. Note the myan on the left–he hyas a ter in his trousers!”

She convulses into giggles as the audience erupts into laughter.

One of the few to begin to deal with the problem of the colonial experience is Margaret Courtney-Clarke in her stunning work Ndebele Women of South Africa. There is however a certain pervasive ambivalence that can best be summed up in the following lines:

“By adapting Western imagery to their own purposes, Ndebele women of South Africa have in a small way made an accommodation that has eluded the country as a whole. At present, when insurrection seems likely to engulf the country, the Ndebele murals may seem beside the point.”

This is an eloquent statement on the political dimension inherent in the taking of images and of the role that the photographer plays even at the ‘pre-production’ stage by the very process of selection of theme or topic.

However, there is an assumption of a ‘pure’, unadulterated form of art which exists in contrast to the Ndebele murals. This is an illusion as all art has been subject to assimilation or, more crudely, ‘borrowing’ and township art is a living testament to this. Although Ndebele murals may be a more familiar (‘traditional’), accessible and less overtly political form of art, more radical forms cannot be dismissed so casually.

Terms like ‘accommodate’ and ‘elude’ also imply value judgements in the sense that ‘accommodate’ connotes compromise and infers the hostility of other art practices to that sense of benign acculturation and ‘elude’ provides reinforcement to this idea by in addition infering that more ‘hostile’ forms of art are somehow less beneficial to social stability.

Having seemingly dismissed the value of the political dimension to art practice, it is then reinstated by Courtney-Clarke’s observation of the apparent irrelevance of undertaking a study of an area so disjuncted from the centre of the political arena.

Indigenous professional women photographers do exist in Africa. Stephen Sprague states in African Arts (vol XII (I) 1978) in his article on Yoruba portrait photographers:

“It is considered a good modern profession for young people to enter, and though the vast majority of photographers are men, there are no restrictions against women. In Ila-Orangun, the ten photographers include … one young woman.”

As the clients are also the consumers, the gulf between audience/ spectator, photographer and subject is breached by demand.

However, in terms of addressing external markets, the most notable advance in the field has been made by Safi Faye, a Senegalese filmmaker. Her most famous film Letters from My Village (1976) was shot in her home village using locals to act. At times she imposes a structure in the form of narrative and at other times she allows the locals to decide the issues that the film will address. In Kaddu Beykat the subject is the imposition of the mono-culture of peanut farming:

“Perhaps on the first day of filming I will initiate the proceedings but thereafter it is the locals who will do so.”

This results in a less direct input from the ‘auteur’ avoiding some of the pitfalls of having an agenda or subject to meet which necessitates a sole preordained vision.

Photography which disguises itself under the mantle of serious research when the principal concern informing the work is the presentation of the lyrical and dramatic only serves to disrupt cross-cultural understanding. It is only by a radical practice of participatory photography which has no externally imposed agenda that photography can near the ‘representational’.

Where to buy cheap paintings?

Among the most varied and detailed art reproductions in the world would be the oil paintings. But where to buy cheap paintings? Anyone can buy art prints and oil paintings in department stores and art fairs. Homeowners can buy reproductions of their favorite works of art when they go to a gallery or when they buy them from online art retailers. If you are looking to buy these reproductions of a great home and garden work of art then be sure to look for pieces of original oil painting art created by French artists. If you have been fortunate enough to see some paintings of your favorite artists then you will know first hand the arduous nature of preparing dandelion paintings for sale.

For some of the best artists, one gallon of oil would take days to prepare and that is for just one set. The artists spend two, three, or more years creating one piece of art. They would be willing to do it so the prices are often to high usually creating a large difference between paintings. Most of these reproductions are not of great detail but tend toward painting – like fashion or beauty, is in the detail. One of my favorite artists is Basquiat. He can take a large blank canvas, throw it in his hands and paint a small square or rectangle in 10 – 20 seconds. Of course he doesn’t tell you this but as his work hangs in a gallery something important to factor into what you will pay is the amount of paint that is in the piece. Basquiat’s work is like his paintings. As the sun takes the canvas over the years the paint begins to fade and with age the paints wear starts to look different. His paintings mean more to people than the painting. The paintings of this French artist remain popular because the paintings are so realistic that no one can tell that they are reproductions. On the contrary some are more than just these copies. Basque’s paintings are reproductions of his paintings but ones that paint a wall or two. His paintings are worth a small fortune and many people own a painting that cost thousands of dollars.

On the other hand one is going to discover again that Dead Sculptures art are worth the money as they are more lifelike the Di Budd occasionally Other famous painting reproductions include Jacobean artist upriver french or bulk oil paintings of renowned artists.

Trust

While some of the most famous paintings can be expensive, it’s hinge on how good you are at buying art. If you aren’t an expert in art then it’s stocked, and will be sold for a substantial amount. Buying art reproductions of famous or older blue prints could represent a loss, but if you feel that it is worth it then it becomes a worthwhile investment.

Art reproductions represent an elegant way to present art that is in the home at a reasonable price. There are not too many modern day artists who care as much about individualism as many of the artists that are alive today. This is one of the reasons why artists such as Picasso sell so many copies and would rather be happy with a certain amount of money than allowing a tray of diamonds, or respectively, to make their way to their front. If you can afford an original painting then you are in quite good shape. If you are not going to take the time to find an original then it’s best to go with an oil painting reproductions.

Waxy white carnations are placed in large bouquets

A small darkened room is hung with lush black velvet, set up for a wake. Waxy white carnations are placed in large bouquets, lit by white candles. Incense is chokingly thick. Small shelves, each holding an icon placed underneath a hanging text, are placed around the side of the room like reliquaries containing the special effects of saints. A soundtrack of voices muttering prayers creates an abstract aural landscape, something like the roar of traffic or surf. A large white casket is placed along one side of the room with the top half of the lid open. Coco Fusco lies in the coffin. In this particular performance she is naked and covered in mud, performing the dead body of Ana Mendieta as it appeared, alive, in Mendieta’s work, Tree of Life.

Such a performance invites participation and a certain attitude of reverence – after all, funerals demand some kind of gesture of respect. Viewers speak in hushed voices and tend to fall into a circular perambulation, first paying respects to the body, perhaps placing a carnation in the casket, then viewing the texts and icons that line the other three walls. A nun (Kim Sawchuk) says a rosary for the deceased and watches the audience. Occasionally she picks out someone and hands her a prayer book.

Better Yet When Dead is an installation/performance that simulates a Catholic wake. Fusco’s live presence invokes the spirits of five Latina or Chicana women who died before their times. As Fusco’s artist’s statement reads, these women, though “brilliant in life. . . were better yet when dead, and thus shine forth as stellar examples of a fate that many women share.” These women are: Tejano singer Selena, who was murdered by the president of her fan club just as she was beginning to break into the mainstream market; Eva Peron, who skilfully created the performance through which she fought her way from poverty and humiliation to wealth, political power, and cult status; Ana Mendieta, the Cuban-American artist who was allegedly thrown our of a window by her famous and philandering husband, Carl Andre, just as she was beginning to gain serious recognition for her work; Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, the celebrated seventeenth-century Mexican poet, scholar and nun who was forced by the church to give up her famous library and renounce secular writing and died tending plague victims; and Frida Kahlo, who survived polio, being impaled by a streetcar, countless operations, the amputation of a leg, and Diego Rivera.

Discover More here Canvas Art Blog

How To Preserve Watercolor Paintings

Well, you have an interest in getting a few incredible paintings? You will find there’s a long set of tips for artwork; perhaps it’s depicting a tale relevant to some great moment of your lifetime, a photo of your amazing pet dog, an interesting picture of your youngster doing some frantic activities, a family portrait commission, or even a thought within your spirit. It really doesn’t matter what the designs are for the portrait, because you will nearly always find an artist who can provide style to your wants. Artisans own these particular thoughts in their blood, and they have an understanding of the technique of designing masterpieces.

When you find yourself curious enough to provide personalized oil paintings to one of your close buddies, then it’s good to go on the internet and discover the finest artisan in the city. You may as well use artisans online to make custom-made artwork, and they will deliver it to your door in one week. You’ll need to submit the image of people or puppies you require to be colored in acrylic, and it’ll very quickly arrive at your property.

You will be happy to know that it’s actually possible to manipulate backgrounds in art. You can easily insert seasonal parts into your paintings to create a terrific visual aspect. Art lovers consider that customized canvas art works are definitely classy choices for a present simply because they cause endless beauty by having an engaging appeal in the room. Your energy to work out an appealing portrait with oil painting will be cherished by your good friend, who will receive it as a gift.

Genuinely, there are a lot of things to know about customized artworks and their increasing popularity. Even though oil paintings demand very good care from owners when compared to digital prints, they add an inspired elegance to the space. They might provide a memorable area in the heart of the individual who benefits from this great gift. While paintings receive care and attention, they can be like great memories for life. You can create an eye-catching perception of your new cat, or it could be an impressive portrait of your boy or girl. Definitely, your kid will love to view it when he grows older.

custom portraits

Offering unique portrait art to many of your close friends on their birthdays, holidays, or other wedding days is surely a fantastic idea. Additionally, you can paint paintings of things or draw down the loveliness of a place that’s generally preferred by your friends. There’s a lot of suggestions for creating custom-made art, of course. If you employ a professional to finish your styles, it would unquestionably be an amazing achievement.

Photos are definitely one of the best creations of technology even now; in a certain place throughout your heart, we truly love the artwork. There’s lots of crazy people around the world who will be curious to transform their picture into a painting. You might be likewise one of those artistic personalities but aren’t able to place the shades in good shape, then this guide is totally a good choice for you.

Marking time in a culture of amnesia

It is a paradox of our times that amnesia should be considered a dominant characteristic of post-modern media culture, a culture which is nonetheless obsessed with the past. This apparent contradiction is the theoretical interest of Twilight Memories, a collection of essays by Andreas Huyssen. Focusing on a temporal shift of the utopian imagination from a future-oriented anticipation to memory and remembrance, Huyssen posits a gap between modernity and postmodernity in which the past becomes the object of desire.

Memory, in fact, is the element which destabilizes the frozen binary positions of modern and postmodern. Re-reading Rilke and Junger, Huyssen presents a divided literary modernism, one which questions the fast and ready collapsing of modernity with all that is totalizing. Essays on Kluge, Sloterdijk, Fluxus and Kiefer, challenge some of the received ideas of critical theory as well as poststructuralism. These subjects are tied in with the question of German national identity and the debates concerning unification.

Huyssen emphasizes throughout that it is necessary to forget in order to remember and that amnesia, far from being all-encompassing, also creates the desire for reconstruction. The strength of memory, then, is that it can be contested. With this insight the author provides an optimistic interpretation of postmodernism’s museal sensibility, the current predilection toward building museums and monuments, which might, surprisingly, reveal the utopian side of contemporary culture. Active remembrance, as process and representation, is never complete and as such, holds promise for the future. M. J. L.

McGee Wall Drawing

McGee has said in conversation that this figure has been a part of his work for some time, and as anonymous and seemingly aimless as the figure appears, the viewer senses an unusual mix of symbolism and sharp satire. Reduced to the literal, as well as the metaphorical, bare facts of existence, this representative man looks like he is searching for solace. But comfort of any sort seems to have remained beyond his reach. Certainly, nothing in the overall composition feels capable of alleviating the central figure’s dubious condition. The other faces, often emerging from inchoate, amoeba-like background frames, manifest a relentless idiotic expression, and the only slightly decorative brushwork occurs with the graffiti tags punctuating the large space.

The expressions on McGee’s faces are not only unintelligent but deeply unhappy, as if somehow they intuitively knew the spiritual squalor of their existence. In one grouping, a cartoon face, wearing what looks like a tonsure, stares off to the side—in any direction but that of the viewer. His tongue hangs out and his eyes are glazed, as if he were suffering the torments of an extreme hangover. Next to him is an equally unassuming thug with a nearly pointed head and white hair. With his closed eyes and an imbecilic grin, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Mad Magazine’s smirking antihero, Alfred E. Neumann. But McGee’s more recent avatar of visionary stupidity looks far more worried than his inspired forbear.

And that’s the point. Writ large, McGee’s message looks ahead to a time when even his weird imaginings have lost their power to shock, and he, like the viewer and the village idiots populating his art, struggle to make some (any!) sense of their lives. The small installation of drawings at the corner of the mural’s right edge suggested how hard he is trying to work out an iconography of spiritual exhaustion. Consisting of scores of small drawings, this composite piece is wonderfully eloquent on the pleasures of scavenging—in both a material and metaphysical sense. Often, his background is made of found materials: music sheets, Chinese newspapers, advertisements, etc. As with the wall work, here McGee is obsessed with finding a face for our time, an expression that will symbolize a certain kind of futility. Yet over time, the viewer senses something different. Even allowing for the enervation his work implies, the artist’s technical skills infuse exuberance into his Sad Sack imagery, and this energy amounts to an implied refutation of the very values his art seems to embrace.

Like McGee’s work, Veca’s Canto III might be considered a young American Caucasian male’s vision of the Apocalypse, very, very late in the second millennium. Taking the cartoon characters Popeye and Brutus as symbolic icons, he has reduced their by-now mythic enmity to a few graphically salient characteristics. Popeye has been reduced to symbolic status, and the viewer encountered only a huge, heavily muscled bicep, complete with anchor tattoos and topped off with a sailor’s cap. Brutus literally became a big mouth—row after row of mouths of clenched teeth, circumscribed with black fringed beards and intensified by a few elongated, tendril-like pink tongues—rushing out at the Popeye arms. In Veca’s deliberately heavyhanded repetition, the two icons march up and down as if they were armies on a hill, off to fight an abstract, populist Armageddon.

Veca doesn’t make it clear who would win such a battle, nor perhaps is either camp meant to, for despite the broadly comic overtones of the composition, the artist is describing a battlefield that can be read as a serious metaphor. Like the images in McGee’s art, the Popeye arm and Brutus mouth are rooted in the not-so-innocent iconography of America—the hardheaded stuff of cartoons and advertising. It’s clear that Veca is just as disaffected as McGee but more abstract in his presentation; his anger is implied more than it is expressed.

As a title, Canto III suggests a certain high-mindedness, even lyricism, in Veca’s vision of the world, even when the spirit of the work is as close to buffoonery. But the artist knows his own mind, indicating his dual stance with a one-sentence statement in the exhibition brochure: “Saturday morning cartoons were my catechism.” It’s the mix of high and low that makes the work affectable. Veca signs off with a quite funny, smaller work. Entitled Year of the Tuna (1996), the piece is of a very happy tuna, anthropomorphically outfitted with a cap and eyeglasses. His civilized manner seems in no small way due to the cigar he is smoking and the martini, complete with olive and toothpick, he has in his hand. This is a Star-Kist Charlie who has made perfect amends with the material world.

Finally, Mouraud presented a stark piece in black and white that worked in another direction—one more cerebral and intellectually elegant. At first, the extreme elongation of the letters “WYSIWYG”—the  initial letters of each word in the phrase “What you see is what you”get”—raised the work nearly illegible (this viewer first took the piece as a gargantuan version of a bar code). Once explained, however, the individual letters are easy enough to read. Mouraud’s play on a cliche argues for intellectual cognition as a motivating force and, indeed, as an actual material factor (the moment when one understands this piece feels like a key turning in the head) in the construction of art. Her conceptual bias contrasted nicely with the comic-book baroque of her colleagues, but one nonetheless wondered about the baldness of the statement—in this artist’s case, what you see is what you get, indeed.

Mouraud means to correct our penchant for overinterpreting the image—a nicely Cartesian goal—and so she fills the wall with the symbolic remains of a conundrum. Yet instinctively, many of us want art to solve intellectual problems visually—that’s what art is supposed to do. For all her subversiveness and sly wit, the artist has deliberately limited her expression, and the result is somewhat attenuated, even as a corrective for passion and pretension. Sometimes the solution does away with the answer.

Late imperial culture

Late Imperial Culture puts stress on the term “late” to pose questions of the time and space of the culture of European imperialism. To the extent that it attempts to bring periodization to the imperial imaginary and to determine the processes at work in colonialist discourse, the project of this book is ambitious. Ranging from theatre to body art, fiction to film, its essays define culture widely as political theory and discursivity both. Except for the final chapter, the essays are consistently thoughtful and erudite.

The sense of a unified but not cohesive or deterministic voice in this collection is provided by the writers’ joint commitment to radically alter the empire’s legacy and the oppression it vests upon its subjects. From this commitment, Aijaz Ahmad speaks eloquently to metropolitan criticism, Karen Caplan expresses reservations about travel discourse and literary sisterhood, and, still playing with the fact/fiction slide (in relation to sexual ethnology), David Glover analyzes Bram Stoker and Irish national identity. Roman de la Campa contributes a provocative reading of revolution through the modalities afforded by, among others, Argentina-born Jorge Luis Borges.

In what pertains to the given-to-be-seen, Steven Cagan’s essay on activist photography cautions that even if somewhat antithetical to postmodernism’s non-referential discursivity, all practice is subject to political contextualization. The debate and subsequent critiques are taken up in Ella Shohat’s deliberations on representation, appropriation and cinematic spectatorship. Together, these essays afford a necessary aesthetic, political and theoretical space from which to begin to undo and reformulate the intertwining of intention, identification and (dis)affiliation that mobilizes the imperial. S. D.