https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/issue/feed Imaginations: Journal of Cross-Cultural Image Studies (ARCHIVES) 2018-11-10T10:11:14-07:00 Markus Reisenleitner imaginations@ualberta.ca Open Journal Systems <p><em>Imaginations</em>&nbsp;is a multilingual, open-access journal of international visual cultural studies //&nbsp;<em>Imaginations</em>&nbsp;est une revue plurilingue à accès libre sur les études visuelles&nbsp;</p> <p><strong>Welcome to the journal&nbsp;archives |&nbsp;Bienvenue sur la page d'archives de la revue</strong></p> <p>PLEASE READ |&nbsp;LISEZ //&nbsp;<em>IMAGINATIONS&nbsp;</em>here | à cette adresse //&nbsp;<a href="http://imaginations.csj.ualberta.ca/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://imaginations.csj.ualberta.ca/</a></p> <p>All written submissions should be sent to&nbsp;<a href="mailto:imaginations@ualberta.ca">imaginations@ualberta.ca</a>&nbsp;and prepared for blind-peer review. //&nbsp;Les soumissions doivent être envoyées à&nbsp;<a href="mailto:imaginations@ualberta.ca">imaginations@ualberta.ca</a>&nbsp;dans un format permettant l’évaluation à l’aveugle par les pairs.</p> https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29396 Fade of the Polaroid: Towards a Political Ontology of the 70s 2018-11-10T10:11:10-07:00 Andrew Pendakis pendakis@hotmail.com --- 2018-11-10T10:11:10-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29397 Preface 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 Nathan Holmes nathanholmes@gmail.com --- 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29398 “An Escape Into Reality”: Computers, Special Effects, and the Haunting Optics of Westworld (1973) 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 Colin Williamson email@email.edu <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;">Abstract</strong><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">| As one of the earliest experiments with integrating computer-generated special effects into celluloid filmmaking, Michael Crichton’s science fiction film Westworld (1973) imagined the transition into a digital future with a familiar apocalyptic narrative about disobedient machines and virtual realities. In this essay I move away from “escapist” and “futurist” readings of the sci-fi genre and explore how Westworld was “an escape into reality,” to borrow Isaac Asimov’s phrase, that immersed audiences in the computerization of life, visuality, and the cinema in 1970s America. My focus will be on mapping the film’s use of computer simulation as part of a constellation that includes everything from modernity in fin-de-siècle amusement parks and early cinema to discourses on postmodernism (Baudrillard) and dehumanization (Sontag). I will also consider how the recent HBO series Westworld(2016) reimagined Crichton’s film as a way of visualizing and historicizing questions about the virtual in our digital moment.</span></div><p class="ABS-abstract" style="box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing: -0.4px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.569; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; orphans: auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"> </p><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;">Résumé</strong><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">| Le film de science fiction de Michael Crichton, Westworld, (1973), l’une des premières expériences d’intégration d’effets spéciaux créés sur ordinateur dans l’industrie cinématographique, imagine la transition dans un futur digital au sein d’un récit apocalyptique sur la désobéissance des machines et les réalités virtuelles. Dans cet essai, je m’éloigne de la lecture divertissante et futuriste de la science fiction pour explorer comment Westworld a constitué une “évasion dans la réalité”, pour reprendre les mots d’Isaac Asimov, qui plonge le spectateur dans une vie informatisée , la visualité et le cinéma de l’Amérique des années 70. Ma recherche s’efforcera de documenter dans le film l’emploi de la simulation par ordinateur comme une partie de la constellation de techniques utilisées depuis la modernité des parcs d’amusement fin-de-siècle et des débuts du cinéma jusqu’au discours sur le postmodernisme (Baudrillard) et la déshumanisation (Sontag). Je vais également examiner comment la récente série télévisée Westworld (2016) sur HBO a réimaginé le film de Crichton comme une manière de visualiser et d’historiciser les questions portant sur le virtuel dans notre époque digitale.</span></div> 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29399 Predictive Landscapes 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 K.R. Cornett email@email.edu <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Abstract<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>| The popularity of the road film in the 1970s is often attributed to its updating of the Western film genre, an enduring form in Hollywood cinema. This essay argues that a hierarchical understanding of the relationship between the two genres is detrimental to understanding their efficacy. Case studies of two minor films produced outside of the Hollywood studio system reveals the centrality of landscape and spatiality to generic evolution. While the mythology of New Hollywood Cinema touted a reflexive deployment of genres that perpetuated in Hollywood for most of the studio era, these independently produced films endeavored to imagine an alternative to this ideologically dominant system. This article explores the uneasy balance of subversion and citation of genre to gain an understanding of the complex relationship between authorship, production, and hegemonic practices in this transitional era of American film history.</div><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Résumé</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>| La popularité du<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">road movie</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>des années 70 est souvent attribuée au fait qu’il constitue une adaptation moderne du western, genre éternel du cinéma hollywoodien. Cet essai veut montrer qu’une compréhensio hiérarchique de la relation entre les deux genres de films nuit à l’appréciation de leur efficacité. Des études de cas de deux films mineurs produits en dehors du système des studios hollywoodiens révèle la centralité du paysage et de la spacialité dans l’évolution du genre. Alors que la mythologie du Nouveau Cinéma Hollywoodien étalait un développement réflexif des genres qui a perduré à Hollywood pendant la plus grande partie de l’ère de domination des studios, ces films de production indépendante s’efforçaient de concevoir une alternative à ce système idéologiquement  dominant. Cet article explore l’équilibre précaire entre la subversion et le respect du genre afin d’acquérir une compréhension de la relation complexe entre l’écriture, la production et les pratiques hégémoniques dans cette ère de transition de l’histoire du cinéma américain.</div> 2018-11-10T10:11:11-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29400 Archaeology of the (1970s) Commune: Notes Towards an Old/New Ontology of Students 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 Fraser McCallum email@email.edu --- 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29401 Killer Pov: First-Person Camera and Sympathetic Identification in Modern Horror 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 Adam Charles Hart email@email.edu <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Abstract<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>| Killer POV—a subjective camera without a reverse shot—is at the center of many of the most influential critical writings on modern horror. However, these discussions often start from the assumption that the camera’s point of view produces identification. This essay attempts to disengage our understanding of horror spectatorship from such models and to provide an alternative reading of killer POV that engages with the genre’s structures of looking/being looked at while remaining sensitive to what precisely is being communicated to viewers by these shots. Killer POV signals to the viewer the presence of a threat without displaying the monster/killer/bearer of the look onscreen. In addition to keeping the threat un-embodied (or only vaguely embodied) and unplaced, killer POV alerts the viewer to the films’ withholding of crucial diegetic information, both of which are essential to understanding the unique mode of spectatorship provoked by modern horror films.</div><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Résumé</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>|<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;" lang="EN-US">Killer POV—caméra subjective sans montage parallèle—est au centre de nombreux articles critiques les plus influents sur le film d’horreur moderne. Ces discussions se basent cependant souvent sur l’idée que le point de vue de la caméra crée l’identification. Cet essai tente de détacher notre interprétation du regard du spectateur sur l’horreur de tels modèles et d’offrir une lecture alternative de killer POV qui implique les structures du regardant/regardé de ce genre de film tout en demeurant sensible à ce qui est exactement communiqué aux spectateurs par ces scènes. Killer POV signale au spectateur la présence d’une menace sans représenter le monstre/tueur/ porteur de cette apparence sur l’écran. En plus de garder la menace non-incarnée (ou seulement vaguement incarnée) et physiquement absente, killer POV alerte le spectateur sur le fait que le film retient des information diégéniques cruciales, ces deux fonctions sont essentielles à la compréhension du mode unique de regard provoqué par les films d’horreur modernes.</span></div> 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29402 Deep Backgrounds: Landscapes of Labor in All the President’s Men 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 Nathan Holmes nathanholmes@gmail.com <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Abstract</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>| Although commonly understood as journalistic thriller tied to the historical realities of the Watergate investigation, Alan J. Pakula’s<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">All the President’s Men</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>is deeply imbricated in contemporaneous ideas about office design and white collar labor. Drawing on the film’s production history, as well as discourses around knowledge work, office furnishings, and the changing role of paper in office work, this essay places<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">All the President’s Men</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>along a different historical trajectory, one in which Hollywood cinema elaborates, expressively re-stages, and fantasizes the white-collar workspace.</div><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Résumé</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>| Bien que communément interprété comme un polar basé sur les réalités historiques de l’enquête du Watergate,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">All the President’s Men</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(<span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Les Hommes du président</span>) d’Alan Pakula est profondément imprégné des idées contemporaines sur l’organisation des bureaux et le travail des cols-blancs. S’inspirant de l’histoire de la production de ce film, ainsi que du discours sur le travail de connaissance, l’ameublement des bureaux et le changement dans le rôle du papier dans le bureau, cet essai replace<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">All the President’s Men</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>dans une trajectoire historique, dans laquelle le cinéma hollywoodien développe, remet en scène et rêve le lieu de travail des cols-blancs.</div> 2018-11-10T10:11:12-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29403 Image and Discursive Landscape: Reflections on Iconic Land Art of the American West 2018-11-10T10:11:13-07:00 Kaitlin Pomerantz email@email.edu <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Abstract<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>| The writer, a interdisciplinary visual artist focusing on landscape and land use, took a trip in the fall of 2016 through various iconic land art sites with Texas Tech University’s Land Arts of the American West program. Immersive engagement with sites such as Robert Smithson’s <span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Spiral Jetty (1968)</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and Michael Heizer’s <span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Double Negative (1969-70)</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>offered the opportunity to reflect—critically and experientially—on the ways that the land artists’ speculations on natural history and humanity’s experience of landscape resonate both with the planned degradation of the sites, and our new, more fraught relationship to environmental change.</div><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Résumé</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>| L’auteur, artiste visuel interdisciplinaire se concentrant sur le paysage et l’utilisation du terrain, a effectué un voyage à travers divers sites artistiques iconiques dans le cadre du program Texas Tech University’s Land Arts of the American West. Un travail d’immersion dans des sites tels que la<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Spiral Jetty</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>de Robert Smithson (1968) et le<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Double Negative</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(1969-70) de Michael Heizer lui ont offert la possibilité de réfléchir—de façon critique et expérimentale—à la façon dont les spéculations sur l’histoire naturelle et les exériences humaines sur le paysage chez les artistes du paysage se font l’écho de la dégradation planifiée des sites et de notre nouvelle relation tendue avec le changement environnemental.</div> 2018-11-10T10:11:13-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement## https://journals.library.ualberta.ca/imaginations/index.php/imaginations/article/view/29404 Strange Vices: Transgression and the Production of Difference in the Giallo 2018-11-10T10:11:13-07:00 Seb Roberts seb@tsubamestudio.com <div class="sixcol first" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: left; margin-left: 0px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Abstract<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>| The<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">giallo</span>, an Italian genre of horror film that peaked in the 1970s, is infamous for peddling shock and slaughter. Under the graphic sex and violence, however, the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">giallo<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>expresses popular anxiety surrounding the transgression of social and sexual norms in modern Italy. Superficially, the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">giallo</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>seems to suggest that social and cultural turmoil necessarily produces death. Yet the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">giallo</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>foregrounds the obvious excitement and attraction of transgression, allowing that transgression could in fact be generative of positive, invigorating difference.</div><div class="sixcol last" style="box-sizing: border-box; width: 364.9375px; position: relative; float: right; margin-left: 22.09375px; caret-color: #484848; color: #484848; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Semibold-Italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Résumé<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>| Le<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">giallo</em>, un genre de film d’horreur italien qui a connu son heure de gloire dans les années 70, a la réputation de mélanger choc et massacre. Sous l’aspect pornographique et violent, toutefois, le<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">giallo</em>exrime l’anxiété populaire qui entoure la transgression des normes sociales et sexuelles dans l’Italie moderne. En surface, le<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">giallo</em>semble suggérer que l’agitation sociale et culturelle conduit nécessairement à la mort. Cependant en mettant en avant l’excitation et l’attrait évidents de la transgression, le<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">giallo</em>permet à cette transgression d’être porteuse de différences positives et tonifiantes. Mots-clé: giallo, transgression, mondernité, violence contre les femmes, cinéma d’horreur.</div> 2018-11-10T10:11:13-07:00 ##submission.copyrightStatement##