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Este trabajo busca conocer las estrategias tecnológicas, los rangos de acción y la conectividad en las estrategias humanas de ambientes marginales. Se discute, para el caso del sur de Mendoza, el modelo clásico de trashumancia cazadora recolectora entre tierras bajas y altas. El estudio se centra específicamente en El Payén y en el uso de la obsidiana andina Laguna del Maule. En El Payén, esta obsidiana ocupa el primer lugar entre las variedades conocidas y su uso se vinculó a circuitos de movilidad estacional que involucraban tierras bajas y altas. La obsidiana Laguna del Maule posee dos subtipos geoquímicos, el Subtipo 1 registrado en cordillera, y el Subtipo 2 localizado en depósitos fluviales distales. En este trabajo modelamos las estrategias de interacción de tierras altas con tierras bajas, enfocándonos en modelos propuestos para La Payunia, que ponen énfasis en la tecnología lítica y se articulan con análisis geoquímicos y geoarqueológicos. Los resultados sostienen que las poblaciones de El Payén obtenían este recurso mediante distintas estrategias tecnológicas: un aprovisionamiento serial del Subtipo 2, con circuitos de movilidad centrados en tierras bajas; diferente al Subtipo 1 de aprovisionamiento cíclico, que habría involucrado la interacción entre tierras altas y tierras bajas.
Dissolved inorganic carbon (DIC) in ocean water is a major sink of fossil fuel derived CO2. Carbon isotopes in DIC serve as tracers for oceanic water masses, biogeochemical processes, and air-sea gas exchange. We present a timeseries of surface DIC δ13C and Δ14C values from 2011 to 2022 from Newport Beach, California. This is a continuation of previous timeseries (Hinger et al. 2010; Santos et al. 2011) that together provide an 18-year record. These data show that DIC Δ14C values have declined by 42‰ and that DIC δ13C values have declined by 0.4‰ since 2004. By 2020, DIC Δ14C values were within analytical error of nearby clean atmospheric CO2 Δ14C values. These long-term trends are likely the result of significant fossil fuel derived CO2 in surface DIC from air-sea gas exchange. Seasonally, Δ14C values varied by 3.4‰ between 2011 and 2022, where seasonal δ13C values varied by 0.7‰. The seasonal variation in Δ14C values is likely driven by variations in upwelling, surface eddies, and mixed layer depth. The variation in δ13C values appears to be driven by isotopic fractionation from marine primary producers. The DIC δ13C and Δ14C values record the influence of the drought that began in 2012, and a major upwelling event in 2016.
This chapter attempts to revisit some issues related to the recent debate on so-called ‘difficult heritage’ (Macdonald) from a semiotic perspective. More specifically, the symbolic weight of the monumental (especially architectural) material legacy of past totalitarian regimes is examined in terms of a temporal transformation of its ‘ideological voice’. According to this theoretical proposal, the material changes induced by restoration and rehabilitation works can be analysed as operations of ‘remodulation’ of the voice of monumental architectures, which can be framed by a semiotic theory of enunciation. Through the analysis of a series of case studies of Italian Fascist monumental buildings and their subsequent material transformation over time, a typology of different possible forms of remodulation is proposed.
Keywords: Difficult Heritage; Theory of Enunciation; Architecture and Ideology; Voice of Architecture; Semiotics of Architecture
Difficult Heritage and its Conflicting ‘Voices’: an Enunciational Approach to Contested Monumental Architecture
The aim of this paper is to test how analytic tools of narrative semiotics may help in framing and understanding some of the issues related to the preservation of controversial heritage. A semiotic approach will be used to account for the meaning effects determined by different solutions of transformation of architectural and monumental legacies originating from a problematic past, and whose collective perception (and meaning) has changed because they are associated with values which a society does not identify with anymore, such as in democratic countries that have experienced a dictatorship in the past.
My case studies are examples of monumental architecture built in Italy during the Fascist period and restored or refurbished in the last few decades. More specifically, I shall try to describe some cases of ‘difficult heritage management’ in Italy, looking at some solutions of transformation or restoration of Fascist architecture, through the lens of the semiotic notion of ‘enunciation’ (as developed especially in Benveniste's and, later, Greimas's theories and by their followers).
The choice of this analytical angle lies in the central hypothesis of my paper: any monumental architecture has its own ‘voice’, through which it ‘speaks’ in public environments.
The absence of written chronicles in Scandinavia during the period in which Islamic silver dirhams were brought from afar and hoarded in pits, necessitates the interpretation of non-verbal data (caches, emission dates of coins, cache distribution in space) and the restitution of actions (maritime and river travel, economic exchange) that produced such results. The interpretation process also needs the consideration of other caches containing precious objects and written sources from the East and the West. The data give us back the of a Scandinavian society in transformation. This chapter presents this study in three phases: physical space (from the Baltic to Baghdad and Tashkent), economic space (predation and/or exchange) and social space (differentiation of society according to collective actors defined by action).
Keywords: Scandinavia; Silver; Dirhams; Dar al-Islam; Frankish Kingdoms; Expeditionary Society.
Archaeological Facts Worthy of Attention
During my study of Umayyad epigraphic coins (Hammad 2018), I was stunned by the discovery that Scandinavian museums kept more silver dirhams, minted in Dar al-Islam, in their vaults than all the countries that minted them in historical times. There are almost five hundred thousand such coins. They were dug out of agricultural lands in the nineteenth century, when technical progress produced ploughshares that could reach new depths. More recent discoveries, made possible by metal detectors, often reveal hoards shattered by the accidental passage of ploughs. The hoard of Stora Velinge, dug up in 1936 on the island of Gotland (Sweden), contained 2,674 dirhams and a silver arm ring (Figure 10.1), with a total weight of eight kilograms; the Spillings hoard (found in 1999) contained 67 kilograms of silver made up of 14,200 dirhams and various ingots and jewellery. 350 dirham hoards have been recorded on Gotland alone, an island located in the Baltic Sea 80 kilometres off the Swedish coast. The coins were first credited to have been brought there by the famed Viking plunderers. But the continued discovery of dirham hoards scattered around the Baltic Sea, along the rivers flowing north into Baltic, or along rivers flowing south into the Black and Caspian Seas, needed another interpretation, that is, the existence, between the eighth and eleventh centuries, of regular commercial routes between the shores of the Baltic and Baghdad, Samarqand and Al-Shash (Tashkent).
Every monument is designed with a specific meaning that seeks to define a system of values (institutional purposes, political reason, cultural self-celebration). In this chapter I will investigate how empirical users may choose either to conform to that ideological proposal or to reinvent it through multifaceted practices. Theoretically based on the ideas of the Model Reader and of interpretation and use as proposed by Umberto Eco, this essay proposes to consider the ways in which the ideal subject and the empirical subject can interpret and use the space differently. In particular through the analysis of two case studies related to the memory of Italy's colonial past, I demonstrate how bottom-up protests and practices trigger a resemantisation and stratification of the space of monuments.
Keywords: Model Reader; Interpretation; Umberto Eco; Semiotics; Monument; Practices.
Introduction (or Frozen Memories)
These pages are devoted to the study of protest practices in relation to two monuments that represent figures tied to the Italian colonialist past, thereby affirming that they are worthy of being remembered.
Drawing from Umberto Eco's semiotic theory of textual analysis, the general aim of this chapter is to investigate forms of resemantisation of these monuments: actions of meaning and memory reversal by subjects that seek to undermine the celebrative representations otherwise ‘cast in stone’, which conceal Fascist Italy's troubling past in Africa.
I focus on these kinds of ‘unpredictable’ practices for two main reasons:
– they create the possibility to investigate different types of subjectivity that can be ‘activated’ by the monumental space. This includes, on the one hand, the expected audience whose specific beliefs are confirmed in the monument, and on the other, the undesirable audience, which positions itself as antagonistic to the narrative told in the urban space;
– they help to understand the cultural mechanism of magnification of events which remain ‘unsaid’ by the monument, either because of the economy of the monument's enunciation, or due to choices that lead to the ideological filtering of memory. As such, they also provide a greater awareness of the narrative make-up of specific memories.
As they can activate or extinguish particular meanings related to certain past events, these practices fuel the reversal of the memories transmitted at an institutional level, instead turning the spotlight on frozen memories.
How might cinema turn a space into a mediated landscape of memory? How can it interrogate what is remembered in a lieu de memoire? Could the role of cinema be that of a monument or, even, a counter-monument? I address these questions through the semiotic analysis of the ways in which ESMA – Space for Memory and for the Promotion and Defence of Human Rights in Buenos Aires has been framed by two documentaries by Jonathan Perel: El Predio (2010) and Tabula Rasa (2013). Both films deal with the large, stratified trauma site of the former ESMA compound – the Escuela Superior de Mecánica de la Armada the most notorious clandestine centre of detention, torture and extermination that was operational in Argentina during the military regime.
Keywords: Documentary Cinema; ESMA – Space for Memory and for the Promotion and Defence of Human Rights; Jonathan Perel; Counter- Monument; Desaparecidos.
Landscape is a complex bearer of the possibilities of a plastic interpretation of emotion.
Sergei Eisenstein
How might cinema turn a space into a mediated landscape of memory? How can it interrogate what is remembered there, and intervene in the porous borders that, simultaneously, separate and connect an event, its experience and its representation – that is, the multiple temporalities defining the very act of media witnessing? Could the role of cinema be that of a monument or even a counter-monument?
These questions guide my analysis of the ways in which ESMA-Space for Memory and for the Promotion and Defence of Human Rights, a memory site located in Buenos Aires, has been framed by two documentary films directed by Jonathan Perel: El Predio (“predio” means the “site”, the “place”, 2010) and Tabula Rasa (2013). Both films deal with the large, stratified and troubled trauma site of the former ESMA compound – the Escuela Superior de Mecánica de la Armada (Naval Academy of Mechanics) – arguably the most notorious of the clandestine centres of detention, torture and extermination that operated in the capital during the military regime's ‘Dirty War’ (1976–1983) (on this, see Sozzi supra). In this place, over 5,000 prisoners were detained, 90 per cent of whom were murdered. The ESMA compound was also the departure point of the aeroplanes from which drugged prisoners were thrown – still alive – into the River Plate.
In eastern North America, Indigenous peoples domesticated several crops that are now extinct. We present experimental data that alters our understanding of the domestication of one of these—goosefoot (Chenopodium berlandieri). Ancient domesticated goosefoot has been recognized on the basis of seed morphology, especially a decrease in the thickness of the seed coat (testa). Nondomesticated goosefoot also sometimes produces seeds that look similar or even identical to domesticated ones, but researchers believed that such seeds were rare (1%–3%). We conducted a common garden experiment and a series of carbonization experiments to better understand the determinants of seed polymorphism in archaeobotanical assemblages. We found that goosefoot produces much higher percentages of thin-testa seeds (mean 50% in our experiment, 15%–34% in free-living parent populations) than previously reported. We also found that cultivated plants produce more thin-testa seeds than their free-living parents, demonstrating that this trait is plastic in response to a garden environment. The carbonization experiments suggest that thin-testa seeds preserve under a larger window of conditions than thick-testa seeds, contrary to our expectations. These results suggest that (1) carbonized, phenotypically mixed assemblages should be interpreted cautiously, and (2) developmental plasticity and genetic assimilation played a role in the domestication of goosefoot.
This chapter offers an examination of the nexus between space and memory by exploring the concepts of lieu and milieu de mémoire. My aim is to show how, in memory-making processes, these two semiotic configurations are not mutually exclusive, as Pierre Nora argues, but mutually articulated. In the first part of the chapter, I will discuss Nora's definitions, comparing them to Michel de Certeau's articulation of lieu and espace and through the lens of Algirdas J. Greimas's model of narrativity. In the second part, I will translate theoretical and methodological reflections into a practical analysis, specifically through an exploration of the case of the Italian concentration camp of Fossoli.
Keywords: Place of Memory; Fossoli; Algirdas Julien Greimas; Pierre Nora; Michel de Certeau.
Ever since the publication of Pierre Nora's monumental collection (Nora 1996 [1984]), the category of lieu de mémoire – translated as ‘place’ or ‘site’ of memory – has offered one of the main conceptual prisms through which to analyse the space–memory nexus. In the introduction to the collection, Nora explains that ‘collective memory was rooted, in order to create a vast topology of French symbolism’, and that the aim of his work is to analyse how ‘the collective heritage of France was crystallised in places of memory’ (Nora 1996 [1984]: xv). According to the historian, the category of lieu de mémoire describes the way memory assumes and reaches a cultural and collective dimension in our times. Despite the focus on France, the category of lieu de mémoire has been used to interpret the meaning of tangible and intangible heritage in other, sometimes very different, national contexts (for Italy see, for example, Isnenghi 1996–1997).
This chapter argues for a semiotic reinterpretation of the notion of lieu de mémoire in terms of a particular and specific way of – among others – forming space and memory, and the nexus between them. In fact, Nora's concept ‘tends to emphasise one layer only, one point in the entire life cycle of a given location’, preventing any acknowledgment of ‘the coexistence of a plurality of meanings and experiences’ (Arrigoni and Galani 2019: 164) in the way we produce and connect spatiality and memory.
In this paper I analyse an ‘imagined space’, based on an application – AppRecuerdos – that involves installations in the centre of Santiago, Chile. The application contains 129 recordings of short narratives in the first person, told by someone directly involved in episodes referring to the years of Pinochet's dictatorship. Once it is downloaded on a smartphone, the app is automatically activated when the user passes a location where the narrative was originally recorded. In this way, the location is simultaneously the place of a past event from the dictatorship, the place of its enunciation and the place where it is listened to. AppRecuerdos is a political and memorial creation that re-signifies urban space, and is a testament to the capacity of digital devices for political engagement.
Keywords: Chile; Pinochet Dictatorship; Digital Device; Enunciation; Imagined Space.
Memory, Space and Technology
What happens when new technologies allow us to construct a virtual space in our imagination that is somehow suspended between the past and the present? When places literally start to speak their various embedded memories thanks to digital devices? When technology allows contrasting narratives from the past to reach our present, involving our senses and shaping our movements in the public space, forcing us to confront unexpected narratives?
These are among the many questions raised by AppRecuerdos in Santiago, a work that is at once an artistic installation, an anthropological experiment, an unusual archive of ‘minor memories’, both personal and anonymous, and a challenging proposal for a new way to imagine and explore an urban landscape.
From a technical point of view, AppRecuerdos is an application that can be downloaded onto any smartphone without the need to connect to the internet. The app contains 129 recorded files – 33 songs and official speeches, and 96 short personal but anonymous narratives – that can be listened to once the app has been downloaded. Every narrative is recorded in a specific location in the centre of Santiago, and is automatically activated as the user passes by with the app turned on. All the recordings are represented on a map that shows the locations where they can be listened to.
The recordings last a maximum of 15 minutes and can be listened to within a few metres from the source. Outside that area, the recording cannot be heard anymore; a new recording can be listened to when the user approaches a new transmitting position.
This chapter provides a semiotic investigation of an emblematic space in Palermo, the Foro Italico. After the Second World War, this space was occupied for many years by the ruins left when the city was bombed. Analysing the diachronic evolution of the Foro Italico, the author examines the semantic categories that have defined the space, exploring how the memory of the war has been concealed and inscribed in the post-war rewritings of the place. The chapter reads this space as ‘a mysterious island’, caught between nature and culture. Referring to different kinds of texts, Marrone illustrates how the practices of various local and migrant communities contribute not only to the resemantisation of space but also to the production of new memories.
In the spring of 1943, in the middle of the Second World War, the city of Palermo was subjected to a merciless aerial bombing campaign. The Allies had arrived in Africa at the end of 1942 and Palermo, whose port was of particular importance to the Axis powers, had become a crucial point in the anti-aircraft surveillance network organised in the Mediterranean by the Germans. By February 1943, the Allies, having established bases in Morocco and Algeria, were making their presence felt, and in April the destruction of the city began. Over the course of that month, ‘flying fortresses’ struck Palermo four times, using phosphorus and incendiary bombs. On 18 April, a bomb hit an air raid shelter, indiscriminately massacring unknown numbers of people, women and children in particular. But it was on 9 May that the Allies unleashed hell on the city. It was a dark, tragic and unforgettable day for those who experienced the event first hand. Three air raids were carried out. During the first, at noon, 23 Vickers Wellington planes dropped 76 explosive devices, including two 4,000-pound high-capacity bombs that did not penetrate the earth but proved lethally efficient at destroying built-up areas. The incursion by another 90 attack bombers, escorted by 60 twin-engine fighters, came a few hours later. Another 100 Flying Fortresses with their fighter escorts came that same evening.
Palermo was the test site for the first carpet-bombing in Italy. The city and all its military targets were hit by circa 1,110 227-kg bombs and another 460 136-kg bombs.
This essay aims at showing how the concept of enunciation can be used to analyse places, by deploying it in the analysis of a museum in Córdoba, Argentina, located inside a former clandestine centre of detention and torture.
The concept of enunciation will prove useful to look at two crucial dimensions of this place of memory: the multiplicity of voices and perspectives that it embodies, together with the display of many different traces of what happened in it. My hypothesis is that both these mechanisms are used to convey a stronger ‘effect of reality’ for the story told, reinforcing each other with mutual connections and shaping a precise narrative of the past.
Keywords: Memory Places; Enunciation; Traces; Museum; Archive; Dirty War
Introduction
The museum known as the Provincial Memory Archive in Córdoba, Argentina (Archivo Provincial de la Memoria, from now on: APM1) is located in a lovely building in the heart of the city's old town. For decades, the building housed the intelligence department of the Córdoba police, also called D2, which in the 1970s worked as a clandestine centre of detention and torture (from now on: CCDT). Nowadays, it hosts a museum and an audio-visual archive of testimonies about its past.
As such, the place is connected to the memory of the atrocities committed by the civilian-military dictatorship that took place in Argentina from 1976 to 1983, enacted by a military council that reunited the chiefs of different armies, self-defined as the National Reorganisation Process. The period is also known as the Dirty War, named after the terrible methods used by the state to destroy any sort of opposition and stay in power for almost seven years. The most common of such means was the disappearance of people: 30,000 men and women were illegally and secretly killed by the state, after having been kidnapped, detained in inhumane conditions and then buried in common graves or thrown into the sea. In this context, in which the state put in place what can be called an invisibility strategy for its own actions (Violi 2015), the search for and discovery of the traces of what happened has been one of the constant objectives of human rights associations from the first days of the restoration of democracy.
This chapter reflects on an emblematic sculpture of one of the most controversial Italian memories, that of Fascism: the so-called statue of Bigio in Brescia, a symbol of Fascist values. In particular, I examine – within the framework of a critical analysis of ideological discourse – the public reactions and the negotiation of meaning which, after Fascism, involved the legitimacy of the monument, between the desire for cancellation and attempts at historicisation.
The object of this contribution is an Italian monument: a sculpture emblematic of a controversial memory, Fascism. It is a sculpture that has characterised and marked a very significant public space: a square in the centre of Brescia in northern Italy. Due to its urban location and strongly connotative dimension, I consider it a relevant object for a volume on the spaces of memory.
It is the so-called statue of Bigio of Brescia, made in 1932 by Arturo Dazzi, which was removed from Piazza della Vittoria in 1945 and has never since been returned to its place. I will look at the controversial events in greater detail below; it clearly represents a textbook case study on the problem of the legitimacy of monuments that were the expression of a particular regime, in this case Italy's Fascist regime.
There has been a very strong revival of this practice of ‘monumental aggression’ just recently, starting in the summer of 2020, when, following the killing of George Floyd, the Black Lives Matter movement called for the demolition of statues glorifying persons guilty of racism, slave ownership and other dubious acts, setting off an international tendency to de-monumentalise racist and Fascist symbols (so that in Italy, for example, the statue of the journalist Indro Montanelli was attacked, as he was guilty of having married a 12-year-old girl in Ethiopia during the Fascist colonial era, within the framework of the legal practice of the ‘madamate’ at the time).
The case of Bigio in Brescia seems to be a textbook example of the polarisation of a debate between on the one hand the supporters of the cultural legitimacy of Fascist monuments, and on the other those who consider expressions of Fascist propaganda unacceptable.
In this contribution, I discuss two places of memory in Berlin: the Jewish Museum, designed by the architect Daniel Libeskind (2001), and the Holocaust Memorial, designed by Peter Eisenman (2005), that have become well-known landmarks of the German capital, both for the importance of the subject matter and for their decidedly innovative architectural quality. The comparative analysis I propose focuses in particular on the visitor paths that architectural morphologies prompt and at times prescribe. Where the Jewish Museum induces memory through an obligatory sensorial path, the Holocaust Memorial leaves the visitor freer to move around the large esplanade on which it stands, suggesting more general reflections on the communication strategies of spatial artefacts and on their effectiveness.
In this contribution, I will discuss two places of memory: the Jewish Museum and the Holocaust Memorial, both shrines to the same story, both in Berlin, both designed by two important architects: the first by Daniel Libeskind, the second by Peter Eisenman, with a very different slant, obviously linked to the specificity of the proposed theme and the personality of the two designers, but also to the type of interpretation to which these places are subjected by the public. Both were inaugurated in the early twenty-first century (2001, 2005), and both have become well-known landmarks of the German capital, essential tourist destinations. In this sense, the absolute, disruptive novelty that they represented in many aspects has perhaps faded over time, and their very persistence has partly tarnished the strength of the architectural ‘gesture’ they represent. But this is probably the destiny of every monument, a sign of memory, a reminder of the past immersed in turn in the flow of time and its changes, as a recent book edited by Anne Beyaert also demonstrates with a wealth of examples (Beyaert-Geslin 2019).
All museums are places of memory to some extent, but only a few are explicitly dedicated to the memory of a specific event. The construction of a monument or memorial expresses the need to identify ‘memory stabilisers’, which Aleida Assmann has broken down into the categories of affection, symbol and trauma (Assmann 1999).
This chapter offers an introduction to the semiotic approach to the space of memory. After defining in what terms space is a language, we focus on two key concepts: narrativity and enunciation. The former, which should not be equated with a story or plot, is understood as the fundamental organisation of meaning, the form that structures our experiences. The latter concerns not the physical production of a text but the traces left by the enunciator in the text, and, more specifically, it may be represented by the architectural style of a building, the form of an urban plan or the display in a museum. In the second part, we present the theoretical and methodological specificities of the contributions in this volume.
Keywords: Semiotics of Space; Semiotic Methodology; Cultural Memory; Narrativity; Enunciation.
This Book
This book aims to present the most relevant concepts of semiotic methodology to a wide audience of scholars and researchers working on memory who may not be familiar with a semiotic approach. In order to do so, we have decided to focus on space, analysing different kinds of spaces, real and virtual, from cities to monuments, from architecture to urban practices, from museums to spaces represented in documentary films or imagined through digital devices. Such a choice implies two main questions: why space? And why semiotics?
As we will briefly explain in this introduction, from a semiotic perspective space is in itself a language, or, to use Jurij Lotman's words (1992), a modelling system, capable of giving shape to the world and at the same time of being modelled by it. Space talks about our values and the structure of our society, but also, and maybe in the first place, about what we have been, about our past and the transformations it has undergone. Space therefore represents a highly privileged vantage point for the understanding of our memory of the past, as well as – as we shall see throughout the chapters of this book – of the way in which space itself produces memory, rewriting, transforming, interpreting and sometimes erasing it. Space is indeed the storage of our collective memory, where we can find and read the traces of memorial processes: no study of cultural memory can neglect the spatial traces left by it.
Why can semiotics be important to scholars working on these topics within different frameworks and even different disciplines?
Nearly 60 complete or fragmentary slate backings from iron-ore mirrors have been found in pre-Columbian funerary contexts in northern Costa Rica, including a couple that bear Maya hieroglyphic inscriptions. With the exception of a single example dating between a.d. 800 and 1550, these slate objects typically occur in contexts dating from 300 b.c. to a.d. 500–600. Recent geochemical analyses indicate foreign production of these artifacts, likely in the Maya area, where slate-backed iron-ore mirrors were related to power, shamanism, and divination, and were manufactured by highly specialized artisans working under the patronage of members of the elite, particularly in the Classic period. In this article we address the question of when, how, and why mirrors from Mesoamerica made their way to Costa Rica and, ultimately, into the funerary contexts from which they have been recovered. To that end, we analyze the regions, contexts, style, and chronology of these Costa Rican examples and compare them with contemporary styles and contexts in the Maya area, including a reinterpretation of one mirror-back presenting hieroglyphic inscriptions. Finally, we explore potential distribution routes and the potential mechanisms of exchange that existed between these distant, yet somehow related areas.