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This year marks several anniversary milestones of an eminent Australian and Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM) recipient, Dr Geoffrey James Cornish MBBS, abbreviated as GC throughout this letter. GC is especially renowned for a long and esteemed career in medicine, and for playing an integral, real-life role as a prisoner-of-war (POW) in World War II’s tragic "Great Escape", upon which the popular 1963 movie is based. Several journalistic and literary works (cited later) that celebrate and underscore GC’s remarkable life/professional career have previously been published through or in association with: the Aircrew Association, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Australian ex-POW Associations, the Australians at war film archive, an authorised biography, a community radio interview of a Cornish Family member, a historiographer’s (class) treatise, the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), various newspapers, and 60 Minutes Australia. The esteemed medical career of GC includes, but is certainly not limited to, innovations in cardiac rehabilitation and anaesthetics, as well the establishment of vital Red Cross blood banks throughout regional Australia, all having significant community impact. Indeed, GC’s life of service, that extended into his eighties, contains many other dimensions and achievements of distinction which this letter briefly summarises. Additionally, original to this letter are ten short audio messages of inspiration from GC that the first Author recorded almost 20 years ago and which to best knowledge have until now never been publically released. While other more formal audio recordings of GC are available online (e.g., award acceptance speech, interview), the audio recordings of this letter are unique in their manner of personal articulation, especially towards those within his famed walking program, and the manner in which they exude the optimism and warmth that were synonymous with GC. Along with the aforementioned life summary and audio recordings, the letter also contains memoirs and photographs donated by the Cornish Family (via the second Author, daughter of GC), and subtly explores the spirituality of the quietly determined and modest man that was GC. The primary GC milestone falling in 2021 is the 100th year birthday (June) anniversary, but this year also coincides with 80th and 75th year anniversaries of respective capture as a POW whilst a Captain in the Royal Air Force (RAF), and returning to Australia to commence medical studies. Perhaps fittingly, the 100th year birthday anniversary is shared with the 2021 service centenary of the RAAF which in 1939 processed GC’s service application on behalf of the RAF. However, this socially significant letter in no way aims to glorify its unavoidable war aspect, but instead glorifies faith and humanity, as well as the strength of a man constituted by caring and generosity towards others, found within the confines of such conflict and other adversities. In a perfectly succinct narrative, journalist Tara Brown of 60 Minutes Australia describes in [1] GC’s life as a touching and inspirational story of humble heroism and enduring spirit resembling an adventure novel, but being far more fascinating than any work of fiction.

In 2019 a collection of letters from the nineteenth-century natural philosopher Robert Were Fox was discovered in his home at Penjerrick in Cornwall. Fox came to the attention of scientific audiences for experimentally establishing that temperature increases with depth beneath the Earth's surface, and later secured fame for his magnetic dipping needle, developed to measure terrestrial magnetic phenomena. The newly uncovered Penjerrick letters constitute a valuable archival discovery with important historical ramifications for our understanding of Fox's work and its place within nineteenth-century science. As well as highlighting the central role of networking in promoting provincial science, the letters reveal the prominence of the Cornish mine as a site of experiment within British scientific culture. These venues presented Fox with unique spaces in which to scrutinize nature, but such philosophical investigations were unverifiable within a laboratory and appeared susceptible to inaccuracies arising from the working conditions of this uncontrollable environment. Nevertheless, the Cornish mine was crucial to the development of Fox's dipping needle, which became the premier device for making magnetic observations at sea in the 1840s. In this article, I demonstrate the epistemologically problematic nature of the mine as an experimental space that was to take on a central role in the worldwide magnetic survey that historians have described as the ‘Magnetic Crusade’.

The study of English legal history has been greatly enhanced and brought up-to-date with the publication of a new edition of this seminal text. The publication in 1989 of William Cornish's Law and ...

Dudley Shaw Ashton’s flamboyant 1953 portrait of the sculptor Barbara Hepworth, Figures in a Landscape, quite literally lifts Hepworth and her sculptures from the spaces of critical reception and creative process associated to the museum, gallery or studio, to audaciously place the artist and her work in the Cornish landscape amongst its beaches, megalithic standing stones and tin mines. This chapter explores how Shaw Ashton’s use of film technology to explore scale, distance and proximity between artist, sculpture and the contours of the landscape, proposed ways of depicting the artist and the creative process on film which were at odds with contemporary art documentaries of the immediate post war period. Reinforced further through the accompanying narration scripted by the archeologist Jacquetta Hawkes, Shaw Ashton seeks instead to inscribe Hepworth’s creative process within a pre-modern landscape and to present the artist and her sculptures as the embodiment of a materially located mythic and historic continuity. Made shortly after the 1951 Festival of Britain, and funded by the British Film Institute’s Experimental Film Fund, was Shaw Ashton’s disavowal of Hepworth’s modernist credentials reflective of a transitional and short lived moment in Britain’s post war culture? When an historical turn might be seen to presage new ways forward in cultural representation?

An assessment of the visual output of the eugenicist geographer and landscape heritage activist Vaughan Cornish (1862-1948) constitutes a void in scholarly studies by geographers and histor...

Professor Wade Madsen has been teaching at Cornish College of the Arts since 1985. This article serves as a window into his educational approach to teaching advanced choreography.

This article examines the influence of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre on the novel, Wilding Graft (1948) by the disabled Cornish twentieth-century novelist and poet Jack Clemo (1916–94). Clemo’s life will be considered before turning to the influence on him of first Emily Bronte and then Charlotte Bronte. The importance of landscape and religion will be considered in these novels. It will be argued that these themes are central to all three novels. This article will then turn to an examination of the poems Clemo wrote about the Bronte sisters: first Clemo’s two poems about Emily Bronte and one called ‘Haworth Keys’, then his two poems about Charlotte Bronte and finally his single poem about Anne Bronte. Particular attention will be paid to Clemo’s assessments of the three Bronte sisters’ works and his attitudes to them.

This article was prompted by the return of the feral child—a figure shaped by the infantilizing racial logics that animate(d) the project of empire—in conservative responses to the August 2011 “riots” in and around London. I argue that the casting of young people, especially young people of colour, as animalistic and wild fleshes out a neoliberal plot that narrates the “nanny” state as failed and beseeching authoritarian correction. To consider how this works and, more importantly, to re-turn the trope that equates hoodies with “wild beasts,” I read Joe Cornish’s science fiction/horror/comedy film, Attack the Block (UK, 2011), as a comment on the invasiveness of neoliberal metaphors. Cornish’s “too black” aliens dramatize the force with which the trope of the feral child invades and inhabits the bodies of racialized young people, turning them toward the reproduction of a convenient narrative and, at the same time, exposing them to injury, violence and death. By staging this invasion as in-process and contested rather than accomplished, ATB opens up the possibility of telling different stories about young black Britons in urban England. But I also attend, here, to the film’s imaginative limits, which are signalled by the persistent abjection of the only “female” alien in the story. To multiply the “convivial” future possibilities to which ATB gestures, I meditate on the implications of doubling down on alienness: a turning and turning again that might usher in alien new worlds. RESUME Cet article prend comme point de depart le retour de l’enfant sauvage – une figure faconnee par l’infantilisation des logiques raciales qui anim(ai)ent le projet imperial – dans les reponses conservatrices aux « emeutes » londoniennes d’aout 2011. Nous soutenons que de depeindre les jeunes, notamment les jeunes de couleur, en tant qu’animaux sauvages, s’insere dans un recit neoliberal d’Etat-providence punitif et autoritaire manque. Afin de comprendre ce phenomene et, surtout, de renverser le modele selon lequel les « hoodies » sont synonymes de « betes sauvages », nous lisons le filme de science-fiction, d’horreur et de comedie Attack de Block (G.B., 2011) par Joe Cornish comme un commentaire sur la nature invasive des metaphores neoliberales. Les extraterrestres « trop noirs » de Cornish symbolisent la force avec laquelle le scheme d’enfant sauvage envahit et habite le corps des jeunes racialises, pour mieux perpetuer un recit avantageux, exposant ceux-ci a des blessures, a la violence et a la mort. En representant l’invasion comme un fait en cours et controverse plutot qu’un fait accompli, le film ouvre un espace permettant de raconter d’autres recits a propos des jeunes Britanniques noir-e-s urbain-e-s. Cela dit, nous examinons egalement les limites imaginatives du filme, symbolisees par l’abjection continuelle de la seule « femme » extra-terrestre du recit. Pour multiplier les possibilites « conviviales » futures auxquelles le filme fait allusion, nous reflechissons aux consequences de cette double alienation : un retournement suivi d’un second retournement susceptibles d’amener de nouveaux mondes etrangers. KEYWORDS: neoliberalism; race; urban riots; feral child; hoodies; metaphor

Old Irish lobur‘weak, sick; leprous’ is cognate with Welshl lwfr‘cowardly,timid, faint-hearted; mean; idle’, Cornish lover, Middle Breton loffr, Modern Breton lovr‘weak, miserly, leprous’. The common notion linking these words semantically is ‘weak’. Because of the voca lism of the Welsh word, the Proto-Celtic reconstruction *lobro-, proposed in earlier scholarship (VGKSi 116‒17,Deshayes 2003: 477), is excluded: Proto-Celtic (PC) *oappears asoin all British-Celtic languages (SchRijveR 1995: 26), except for certain nasal contexts and before *RC‒ neither of which is applicable here ‒, where it is raised touin Welsh (SchRijveR 1995: 27‒44, 52–68); PC *u, on the other hand, is retain edasu in Welsh, but yields oin Cornish and Breton (SchRijveR 1995: 26‒7),precisely the distribution found in this etymon. Theoof OIr.loburis due to the regular lowering of PC *u>o before a non-high back vowel (McCone 1996: 110). The voiced labial fricative evidenced in the individual languages can continue Proto-Celtic *bor *φ. The former is the reflex of Indo-European *bh, *gu̯and the marginal sound *b(McCone 1996: 42‒3; Stifter 2017: 1189‒90), whereas the latter continues word-internal Indo-Euro pean *p before a liquid (McCone1996: 44; Stifter 2017: 1190)

A sculptor's diary is a relatively rare thing in art history. That compiled by the New Zealander William Thomas Trethewey (1892-1956) (fig. 1) is a unique document, chronicling his voyage to and sojourn in Great Britain, as well as visits to Germany, France and Australia, between 16 January and 22 September 1936.1 The diary runs to a remarkable 952 pages - some 110,000 words - and meticulously yet exuberantly covers every stage of his 'Great OE' ('Overseas Experience' in New Zealand parlance), from his departure from Lyttelton, New Zealand on his outward voyage to his departure from Sydney, bound for Auckland, on his return voyage.As a diarist, Trethewey is no David d'Angers and still less a Keith Vaughan. Yet he is no Pooter either: there is minimal pretension or self-importance about him. A colonial classlessness is already evident in this second-generation New Zealander. What also indubitably emerges is what today would be called a 'people person'. As much at home in a saloon bar as an interested visitor to the Royal College of Art, Trethewey is sociable, curious, quick-witted, observant and good-humoured, a listener as well as a talker. He is no intellectual: his prose provides few insights into the workings of his mind or even into the creation of sculpture. Yet he is always engaging at whatever he addresses, and is vividly, even infectiously enthusiastic in his descriptiveness. Rather like his actual sculpture, Trethewey may not be profound but he nails it.Trethewey himself is every inch the 'colonial Cornish man' of his self-description and era.2 Never does he use the phrase 'Mother Country' to describe Britain. Instead, he remains constantly and proudly a New Zealander; and it is New Zealand that is certainly his 'Home'. Yet Trethewey's love affair with his destination at times vies with that of his near-contemporary Alan Mulgan, author of the infatuatedly Anglophile Home: A Colonial's Adventure (1927), which describes afternoon tea in a Great Western Railway restaurant car as 'almost a piece of poetry'.3 Trethewey is in turn near delirious when he beholds the picturesque Devonshire village of Clovelly: 'of all the marvellous places I have seen, Clovelly is it. Marvellous. Really I say this about everything I see but everything in England to an appreciative colonial IS MARVELLOUS.'4In strictly art-historical terms, Trethewey's diary reveals relatively few 'marvellous' insights, indeed, fewer than one might expect given his position by 1940 as 'the only really successful New Zealand sculptor'.5 The explanation lies surely in his self-made status and his practical bent, as well as his cultural milieu. The son of a Cornish carpenter, Jabez Trethewey (1851-1935), who had emigrated to New Zealand in the 1870s, William had initially trained as a woodcarver and earned his later livelihood as a monumental mason. By the 1930s he enjoyed a measure of success and even prosperity, which enabled him to go on what amounted to this sabbatical.6 He had only been noted for his sculpture over the previous 10-15 years, and its status was still widely regarded in the New Zealand public mind as a secondary 'craft' rather than being comparable to painting as an 'art'.7 For a craftsman-cum-businessman like Trethewey, this was probably less of an issue than it was for his traditionally more highly regarded and high-minded counterparts, notably Margaret Butler, R. N. Field, Richard Gross and Francis Shurrock.8 Surely alone of these sculptors, Trethewey found the experience of a visit to a linoleum factory in Kirkcaldy or a steel mill in Middlesbrough as riveting as one to an artist's studio, and worthier of lengthy description.It would be anachronistic and perhaps even intellectually snobbish to expect Trethewey to have foregrounded any fraternizing with his sculptural peers or indeed to have critiqued their works. Furthermore, he wrote the diary as much for his mother, wife and three eldest children in Christchurch as he did for himself, posting them excerpts of it at various stages. …

Via examples of recent experimental animation works, including that of Chris Cornish, Ryoichi Kurokawa and Alex Jukes, this essay posits that space within a 3D CGI world can form the material basis when working within this mode of production. Also, drawing from Heidegger’s discourse on space, this chapter outlines a combined theoretical and a practical exploration into space as material where emptiness and the void are offered as methods for an investigation into experimental 3D CGI animation practice. This chapter represents a study of materiality within the production and presentation of 3D CGI animation, arguing that the familiar, imagined, infinite space presented and realised within a 3D CGI world acts as its basis and status as material.

In a recent article on the eeriness of the English countryside, Robert Macfarlane juxtaposes an official version of English culture, which emphasizes heritage, progress and national unity, with the unofficial versions of ‘Englishness’ being offered by writers, artists, musicians and filmmakers that emphasize local differences, dispossessed peoples or communities, and historical decay or regression. These themes, according to Macfarlane, are mediated through preoccupations with violence, ruins and the uncanny – the revival of interest in Weird fiction writers, such as M. R. James, being exemplary. This article takes up but also expands upon Macfarlane’s argument by focussing on a recent text: Lucy Wood’s 2012 collection, Diving Belles. Of interest here is Wood’s use of the Cornish landscape that she invests not only with literal spirits and ghosts but also with a Weird-like sense of what China Mieville has termed the ‘abcanny’, such that her stories hover somewhere between the traditional ghost story, mundane realism and a peculiarly English variant of magical realism. Although there is little overt political content in Wood’s stories, this article argues that the abcanny form of her stories, whilst also contesting heritage-based representations of Cornwall, mediates the ambiguous relationship of Cornwall towards the English political heartlands. In this sense, then, Macfarlane’s argument can be helpfully developed since, whilst haunted versions of the English countryside can become assimilated into an official model of national heritage, the abcanny landscape remains estranged from such cultural and political appropriation.

Blanche Warre Cornish's 1921–22tripartite memoir, “Memories of Tennyson,” begins in 1869 when she meets the poet by way of her parents’ friendship with Tennyson's neighbor, the photographer Julia Margaret Cameron (145) (Figure 1). The photograph that Cornish recalls as “psychophotography” is one instance of a trend in Victorian England of spirit photography that was first practiced around 1872 after it was imported from America, where William Mumler had developed it (Tucker 68; Doyle 2: 128). Reactions to these spirit photographs took various forms: while some viewers regarded them as a credible medium for communication with the dead, their detractors saw them as deliberate acts of deception. Others employed photography's spectral qualities for entertainment, such as the London Stereoscopic Company that had marketed photographs of angels, fairies, and ghosts for their customers’ amusement in the 1860s (Chéroux 45–53). By the time the “shadowy figure of a man” appears beside Arthur Hallam's erstwhile fiancé, Mrs. Jesse, Tennyson's sister, the practice had been subject to public intrigue and scandal as a part of broader and contentious Victorian debates about the status of photography as art or document. The already surreal qualities of Cornish's anecdote are amplified by Tennyson's question, “Is that Arthur?,” which entertains the possibility of Hallam being present in a visible, spectral form while unrecognized by his beloved friend.

Au livre V de la Morte Darthur, Malory ne cesse de condamner la couardise des chevaliers de Cornouailles, reprenant sa principale source francaise, le Roman de Tristan. L’alterite cornouaillaise est d’ailleurs introduite des le Livre II. Negligeant les nombreuses associations de la Cornouailles medievale a la geste arthurienne, les attaques de Malory s’inscrivent dans un mouvement general de condamnation, atteste des le XIIe siecle. Malory est par ailleurs sensible aux singularites dialectales du peuple de Cornouailles, qui continuera a se rebeller bien au-dela de la periode Tudor.

Wilkie Collins's The Dead Secret , arguably one of his most critically neglected novels, exercises the same concerns with ancestry, inheritance, and history as developed in Collins's later works, projected upon a Cornish landscape. In exploring the way Collins uses Cornwall (a location he had already toyed with in Basil and Rambles Beyond Railways ), representations of the Cornish, and specifically Cornish seascapes, I propose that Collins is employing Cornwall as an ideal playground in which to experiment with his reworkings of Gothic tropes and motifs. Indeed, Collins's Cornwall provides a means of understanding debates surrounding regional identities and a lens through which to comprehend the Cornish quest to reclaim a notion of Celtic identity in the late nineteenth century. Collins’s use of seascapes, ruins, transgression, and deadly secrets not only reimagines Gothic tropes in a Victorian context, but also uses them to express anxieties regarding disintegration of self, society, and borders in the period.

Contents: Preface Sense of place in a changing world, John Schofield and Rosy Szymanski Local distinctiveness: everyday places and how to find them, Sue Clifford Marketing sense of place in the Forest of Bowland, Cathy Hopley and Paul Mahoney Memory and the value of place in Estonia, Gurly Vedru Being accounted for: qualitative data analysis in assessing 'place' and 'value', Stephen Townend and Ken Whittaker 'Counter-mapping' heritage, communities and places in Australia and the UK, Rodney Harrison Exploring sense of place: an ethnography of the Cornish mining world heritage site, Hilary Orange Maastricht-Lanarkaveld: the place to be?, Anne Brakman Between indigenous and Roman worlds: sense of place in the North-Eastern Iberian peninsula during the Roman period, Paula Uribe A scent of plaice?, Antony Firth Sense and sensitivity a " or archaeology versus the a "wow factora (TM) in Southampton (England), Duncan Brown Ilhna Beltin: locating identity in a fortified Mediterranean city, Rachel Radmilli Topophilia, reliquary and pilgrimage: recapturing place, memory and meaning at Britain's historic football grounds, Jason Wood Index.

From Ward to X-Ray gives an important reference point for all nurses whose patients arc undergoing radiological investigations and is ideal for ward use and nurses in training.

How does Cornwall Art Library support the cultural life of a county that is a magnet for tourists but has continuing economic problems? The historical background to the development of the internationally renowned art ‘colonies’ in West Cornwall illustrates how the libraries have become embedded within this history. Various initiatives from Cornwall Council should establish the county as a highly networked, vibrant and creative place, which will contribute to its future regeneration. Can the Library continue to reinvent resources in order to combine with the artistic community as a crucial part of the local economy?

Writing pseudonymously in the New Age in February 1909, Arnold Bennett, acerbic chronicler of Edwardian chapel culture, deplored the lack of proper bookshops in English provincial towns. A substantial manufacturing community, he claimed, might be served only by a stationers shop, offering ‘Tennyson in gilt. Volumes of the Temple Classics or Everyman. Hymn books, Bibles. The latest cheap Shakespeare. Of new books no example, except the brothers Hocking.’ Bennett’s lament was an unintended compliment to the ubiquity of the novels of Silas and Joseph Hocking, brothers whose literary careers spanned more than half a century, generating almost two hundred novels and innumerable serials and short stories. Silas Hocking (1850–1935), whose first book was published in 1878 and last in 1934, has been described as the most popular novelist of the late nineteenth century. By 1900 his sales already exceeded one million volumes. The career of Joseph Hocking (1860–1937) was slightly shorter, stretching from 1887 to 1936, but his output was equally impressive. The Hockings’ works have attracted interest principally among scholars of Cornish life and culture. It will be argued here, however, that they have significance for the history of late Victorian and Edwardian Nonconformity, both reflecting and reinforcing the attitudes, beliefs and prejudices of their large and appreciative readership.

The PEN Club formed in London in 1921 as a dinner circle for writers. Though its founders preferred to emphasize the Club’s cultural significance, this article tracks PEN’s politicization during its first decade. A Cornish novelist named C.A. Dawson Scott proposed the Club as a way to heal the rifts of World War I. British writers of sufficient stature would meet monthly giving writers from abroad a forum to meet their British counterparts. PEN’s first President, the Nobel-prizer John Galsworthy, encouraged the group’s apolitical self-image. Writers should stand aside from politics, he argued, precisely so that they might influence the politicians, diplomats, and powerbrokers who had led the world to war. PEN members rarely spoke of politics when they gathered, instead debating the boundaries of “literary” writing and the role of art itself. By refining their conception of aesthetics and cordoning off a space for cultural activity within civil society, this article argues that PEN members made a bold move into the political sphere they professed merely to influence. In doing so they foreshadowed the position that predominated among centrist and liberal writers on the Western side of the Iron Curtain during the Cold War.

Based on questions raised by Paul Oliver, this article argues that the blues was integral to the development of jazz rather than an external influence. The blues scale of Winthrop Sargeant and Gerhard Kubik and their relation to blues tonality are considered in relation to “Careless Love” and “Pallet on the Floor.” “I'm Alabama Bound” is also considered. This was a repertoire common to rural songsters and the emerging jazz bands of New Orleans. The 12-bar blues of piano players and the relationship between the blues of Mamie Desdunes and the “2:19 Blues” is explored, as is the role of New Orleans songsters. This essay draws on the oral history files of the Hogan Jazz Archive, Library of Congress, and the Historic New Orleans Collection. In particular the Papers of Frederic Ramsey Jr. and the interview conducted by Charles Edward Smith with Willie Cornish for Jazzmen (1939) confirm that Buddy Bolden played the 12-bar blues in the early years of the twentieth century. From this it is safe to conclude that t...

In 1984 the entrance grave at Bosiliack, Cornwall, was excavated by Charles Thomas on behalf of the Institute of Cornish Studies. It was a comparatively small example, approximately 5 m in diameter encircled by a substantial kerb. A deposit of cremated bone was found within the chamber accompanied by sherds of plain pottery from three vessels. Two radiocarbon determinations were obtained on the cremated bone. The dates were almost identical, falling between 1690 and 1500 calbc.Because Bosiliack is the only entrance grave in Cornwall to have been excavated to modern standards, and to have had any analyses undertaken on the contents of its chamber, it is significant to the study of small chambered tombs elsewhere. This paper outlines the results from the excavations before moving on to a discussion of the use of monument and a consideration of its possible affinities with monuments elsewhere.