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This chapter proposes two ways to study religion and healing. The first outlines a program that involves an urban ethnographic study of culturally/religiously based approaches to healing in the African Diaspora communities of Boston, Massachusetts. The second relates to ways in which findings from the first kind of course can be incorporated into different levels of medical education, thereby introducing a highly-focused aspect of religious studies into the training of biomedical clinicians.

The Sinfonia Antartica was suggested by the film Scott of the Antarctic, which was produced by Ealing Studios a few years ago. Some of the themes are derived from my incidental music to that film. The Musical Director was Ernest Irving. The Sinfonia is therefore gratefully dedicated to him. A large orchestra is used, including a vibraphone, a wind machine, and women's voices used orchestrally. There are five movements: Prelude, Scherzo, Landscape, Intermezzo, and Epilogue. Each movement is headed by an appropriate quotation. Other themes follow leading to a big climax. The bell passage comes in again, suddenly very soft. The voices are heard again and the opening flourish, first loud and then soft, leads to a complete repetition of the beginning of the Prelude. Then the solo singer is heard again and the music dies down to nothing, except for the voices and the Antarctic wind.

This chapter provides some illustrations of the potential disparity between plough-zone results and those in a variety of arid-zone projects, where surface preservation of physical features allows better site identification and crucially important additional information on site typologies and functions. The author here draws on his personal involvement in the Kasserine Survey (Tunisia), the UNESCO Libyan Valleys Survey and the Fazzan Project (both in Libya), and the Wadi Faynan Landscape Survey in Jordan.

The landscape garden was considered a uniquely English, uniquely modern art form—a uniqueness derived in part from the intensity of immediate tasteful experience that places like Stowe elicited. The first of three sections shows that William Gilpin’s Dialogue Upon the Gardens of…Stow seeks to join spontaneous pleasure at Stowe with sense of nationalistic destiny, but comes to recognize the gap between them can never be quite closed. The second demonstrates that Joseph Warton’s poem The Enthusiast uses Stowe to represent the corrupting history of British taste, yet his alternative, the sensory immediacy provided by nature, gains meaning only within the corruption narrative that Stowe helps him tell. The third section argues that while Horace Walpole only indirectly looks at Stowe in his seminal History of the Modern Taste in Gardening, it models an immediacy of affect for all modern gardens that distorts and finally demolishes his attempt to narrate their past, present, and future.

Following the short introduction to Part 1, Chapter 1 begins the story of local carceral expansion with an examination of the 85-acre site designated to house the justice campus. The site was the former home of the largest color television production plant in the world, owned for decades by the Radio Corporation of America (RCA). RCA was the community’s largest employer at one point but began shifting production to Mexico in the 1960s and ultimately closed the Bloomington plant in 1998. Almost immediately, the county began considering the site for a justice campus. The chapter traces the community’s loss of that plant and subsequent attempt to build the campus as part of broader currents of the neoliberal state, including the geographical movement of capital across scale and space and the rise of the carceral state. As part of this examination, the chapter looks at the municipal growth strategies that created a zone of tax abatements and financing within which the justice campus would have sat. The chapter relies on research from cultural and Marxist geography to discuss the importance of material and symbolic reading of the landscape to consider its telling of history and the way it can be mobilized as an ideological template on which to project a particular vision for the future. The book begins with this history and analysis in order to situate and disturb the "common sense" of carceral expansion.

In 1976, Maastricht University Library developed the concept of the Study Landscape to respond to students' needs. It consists of a combination of study spaces and learning resources, supervised by skilled librarians and with generous opening hours. The Study Landscape contains a variety of titles and types of resources, directly related to the curriculum. Text, pictures, models, diagrams, and moving images, all are present. To ensure just-in-time availability of information to all students, large numbers of titles (3–25 copies of each title) and programmes (selected by teaching staff) are bought by the library and all the necessary facilities are concentrated in one building. This chapter discusses the development of the Study Landscape over the past few decades. It addresses questions such as: How does it offer access to all the information and tools for searching, using, sharing, and building knowledge in relation to teaching and learning at Maastricht University FHML in particular)? What changes have occurred and are likely to occur in a future characterized by a knowledgeable society with growing needs for flexibility and mobility, and students that are ‘digital natives’?

We tend to regard America's roads simplistically, as subsidiary features lurking in the background. But historically, roads were the foreground to travel—their routes and attributes such as gradient and condition were of primary concern to stagecoach operators and carriage drivers. Whichever perspective obtains, background or foreground, roads and their attendant roadsides, which together comprise road landscapes, are very complex places and difficult to interpret. Road complexity is exacerbated through association with multiple legal jurisdictions—town or city, county, state, federal. Roads are the venue for linear marketplaces, roadside businesses that provide food, fuel, lodging, shopping, or other forms of financial or social transaction, and road landscapes provide varied experiences for those who use the road or reside at roadside. Appreciating dispirit [disparate?] perspectives requires that we regard the roadway, in both its historic and contemporary guises, as a visual and experiential puzzle or palimpsest. Part III of this book is biographical, a detailed narrative intended to assist the reader in interpreting the Maysville Road and its attendant roadside landscapes and is organized into three extended geographical sections: Lexington to Paris; Paris to the vicinity of Blue Licks; and Blue Licks to Maysville.

Sewall Wright originally conceived of his Adaptive Landscape as a visual device to capture the consequences of non-linear (epistatic) interactions between genes. A useful way to visualise a multivariate non-linear function is through a ‘landscape’, an important factor to consider when applying Adaptive Landscape models to questions about the evolution of development. This chapter examines how a phenotype landscape (also known as phenotypic landscape or developmental landscape) can explicitly map genetic and developmental traits to the phenotypic traits upon which selection acts. After outlining the basic properties of phenotype landscapes, it considers how they are used in concert with an Adaptive Landscape to study the evolution of development. It then describes the formal theory for evolution on phenotype landscapes and how it generalises the quantitative genetic approaches that are often applied to Adaptive Landscapes. The chapter concludes by illustrating how phenotype landscape theory can be used to study the evolution of genetic covariance, heritability, and novelty.

Sewall Wright’s classic Adaptive Landscape has been a highly successful metaphor and scientific concept in evolutionary biology. It has influenced many different research subdisciplines in evolutionary biology and inspired generations of researchers, even though it has also sparked deep scientific and philosophical controversies. Among such subdisciplines are population genetics, evolutionary ecology, quantitative genetics, experimental evolution, conservation biology, speciation and macroevolutionary dynamics, mimicry, saltational evolution, behavioural ecology, molecular biology, protein networks, and theoretical studies on development.

Rowheath Park at Bournville (from 1921) and the Hills and Dales Park, the Old Barn Club and Old River Park, made for NCR employees between 1906 and 1939, are highly significant to the history of corporate landscapes in terms of their scale and the sophistication of their designs in a factory context. A comparison of these parks, designed by landscape architects Cheals of Crawley, and the Olmsted Brothers respectively, reveal differences in the cultural, symbolic and stylistic approaches to landscape design in the two nations, including what it was possible to achieve in the suburban landscapes of Britain and the United States and in the beliefs, desires and expectations of the factory worker and his patriarch in what the landscape could provide for them. In context of corporate recreation, the scale and sophistication of these gardens and parks were astonishing and unprecedented. Their landscape architects succeeded in projecting local and national landscape identities through design, thus creating spaces that heightened employees’ sense of belonging to the region and to the corporate community.

The introductory chapter situates the volume vis-à-vis existing literature concerned with household and landscape archaeology within the study of historic Caribbean slave societies. Whereas past work in the field has emphasized the macro point of view, choosing to examine landscapes from a plantationwide or even islandwide perspective, this volume uses a more diversified approach. The chapter also defines the authors’ understanding of the term “built environment,” which is used by all authors throughout the volume. It provides an overview of the few scholars who have considered domestic landscapes of the enslaved, highlighting the need for this volume to bring together more recent work in this direction. Finally, the chapter introduces and synthesizes the contributions of the book as a whole.

The dwellings of enslaved laborers toiling on the sugar estates in the British colony of Nevis were fragile in character and perishable in construction. Unlike more robust plantation housing found on other islands, of wattle-and-daub or masonry, the homes on Nevis for enslaved workers consisted mainly of wood-plank. They were single-room structures with thatched roofs, propped up on stacked dry-stone platforms. Plantation maps from the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries consistently portray such modest huts clustered in semi-orderly rows on estate property. Yet, as ephemeral as they were, they have not vanished entirely from the landscape. The archaeological footprints of these humble homes can be traced in the outlines of piled stone foundations, charcoal deposits, and scattered domestic artifacts. Furthermore, the style slowly transitioned into a vernacular form lasting post-emancipation into the early twentieth century, and it forms the basis of present vernacular architecture observable on the Nevisian landscape. This chapter will detail the archaeological evidence for traditional labor houses and trace how the architectural style likely evolved into a current vernacular form.

French Guiana presents a unique context in which to explore Caribbean plantation slavery for several reasons. These include its circum-Caribbean position as a non-island space, the distinct experiences of enslavement within French Caribbean colonies (which included a brief period of emancipation and subsequent re-enslavement of the labor force) and the fact that sugar monoculture never dominated the economy as it did elsewhere in the region. While sugar was economically important for a short period in the early nineteenth century, plantations producing a variety of agricultural commodities including cotton, coffee, annatto, and spices were much more typical. In 2016, two nineteenth-century plantation slave villages were the subject of archaeological investigation; these villages were historically associated with annatto and clove production. This chapter presents a historical overview of nineteenth-century plantation slavery in the region as well as preliminary results from survey and excavation in 2016. Initial testing revealed intriguing details about architecture, material culture, and the use of space on nineteenth-century French Guianese plantations.