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From the 1967 live satellite program "Our World" to MTV music videos in Indonesia, from French television in Senegal to the global syndication of African American sitcoms, and from representations of terrorism on German television to the international Teletubbies phenomenon, TV lies at the nexus of globalization and transnational culture. Planet TV provides an overview of the rapidly changing landscape of global television, combining previously published essays by pioneers of the study of television with new work by cutting-edge television scholars who refine and extend intellectual debates in the field. Organized thematically, the volume explores such issues as cultural imperialism, nationalism, postcolonialism, transnationalism, ethnicity and cultural hybridity. These themes are illuminated by concrete examples and case studies derived from empirical work on global television industries, programs, and audiences in diverse social, historical, and cultural contexts. Developing a new critical framework for exploring the political, economic, sociological and technological dimensions of television cultures, and countering the assumption that global television is merely a result of the current dominance of the West in world affairs, Planet TV demonstrates that the global dimensions of television were imagined into existence very early on in its contentious history. Parks and Kumar have assembled the critical moments in television's past in order to understand its present and future. Contributors include Ien Ang, Arjun Appadurai, Jose B. Capino, Michael Curtin, Jo Ellen Fair, John Fiske, Faye Ginsburg, R. Harindranath, Timothy Havens, Edward S. Herman, Michele Hilmes, Olaf Hoerschelmann, Shanti Kumar, Moya Luckett, Robert McChesney, Divya C. McMillin, Nicholas Mirzoeff, David Morley, Hamid Naficy, Lisa Parks, James Schwoch, John Sinclair, R. Anderson Sutton, Serra Tinic, John Tomlinson, and Mimi White.

"This study sketches some of the various trajectories of digital games in modern Western societies, looking at the growth and persistence of the moral panic that continues to accompany massive public interest in digital games. The book continues with a new phase of games research exemplified by systematic examination of specific aspects of digital games and gaming"--Provided by publisher.

What could a history of game studies be from the perspective of a queer Chickasaw feminist scholar? Should this be a disciplining manifesto, a polemical call to arms for radical transformation, a survey of the existing scholarship that has thus far framed games ludologically as fun, as sportsmanship, as design, or as epic struggles for political power where the player rather ominously wins or dies? I’m a bit of an interloper as a recent arrival from Indigenous studies to video-game studies, a field that represents both the end of history and the ahistoricity of pop-culturally–oriented archives that are presentist at best, and at worst, complicit with an industry derived from settler militaristic technologies and platforms and compelled by niche markets to innovate faster and faster to saturate more and more households at the structural level of occupation. And then there is the problem of what the history of game studies has been: Greco-Roman, European, cis white male, heterosexual, orientalist, algorithmic, and code driven with the techno-optimism of Silicon Valley alongside Jane McGonigal’s fundamental belief that games have and will save the world once they unite the collective brain power of all the gamers and bend them to a single task—and if not all that, then peak 1980s geekery with a hint of liberal multiculturalism thrown in, if Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One is anything to go by. It is as if the history of game studies has only ever been an imperial read-only memory to be mined, played, and spatialized within the conscriptions of conquistador archives already known and yet to be discovered.

From gold farmers and ‘100 million brain-damaged online gamers’ to the world’s biggest game company and more players than US citizens, China seems like the cabinet of curiosities for the whole world of digital gaming. This article focuses on news coverage around Chinese gaming and presents three phases of such journalism. China’s emerging games market was most prominently featured between 1999 and 2005, while 2006-2011 focused on extreme play behavior in China. Most recently, a discourse of vast business opportunities and stabilizing markets has been presented by Western news media. In total more than 853 news articles are explored in parallel to the theoretical concept of Sinological-orientalism. This article suggests significant historical changes in the ways in which knowledge of Chinese gaming has been produced in English language news media.

In Slave Revolt on Screen: The Haitian Revolution in Film and Video Games author Alyssa Goldstein Sepinwall analyzes how films and video games from around the world have depicted slave revolt, focusing on the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804). This event, the first successful revolution by enslaved people in modern history, sent shock waves throughout the Atlantic World. Regardless of its historical significance however, this revolution has become less well-known—and appears less often on screen—than most other revolutions; its story, involving enslaved Africans liberating themselves through violence, does not match the suffering-slaves-waiting-for-a-white-hero genre that pervades Hollywood treatments of Black history. Despite Hollywood’s near-silence on this event, some films on the Revolution do exist—from directors in Haiti, the US, France, and elsewhere. Slave Revolt on Screen offers the first-ever comprehensive analysis of Haitian Revolution cinema, including completed films and planned projects that were never made. In addition to studying cinema, this book also breaks ground in examining video games, a pop-culture form long neglected by historians. Sepinwall scrutinizes video game depictions of Haitian slave revolt that appear in games like the Assassin’s Creed series that have reached millions more players than comparable films. In analyzing films and games on the revolution, Slave Revolt on Screen calls attention to the ways that economic legacies of slavery and colonialism warp pop-culture portrayals of the past and leave audiences with distorted understandings.

This book uncovers popular games' key role in the cultural construction of modern racial fictions. It argues that gaming provides the lens, language, and logic - in short, the authority - behind racial boundary making, reinforcing and at times subverting beliefs about where people racially and spatially belong. It focuses specifically on the experience of Asian Americans and the longer history of ludo-Orientalism, wherein play, the creation of games, and the use of game theory shape how East-West relations are imagined and reinforce notions of foreignness and perceptions of racial difference.

Art, performance, and spoken or now written text, all belong to the same register of cultural practice in the First Nations I am familiar with or belong to: ceremony. This ceremonial register takes place in a set of spaces created to enact cultural responsibilities to place, people and balance. Galleries and museums, as sites of cultural production and presentation, have the potential to nurture new ceremonies and new working methods.

L’auteure soutient que le documentaire de 2016 d’Alethea Arnaquq-Baril, Angry Inuk (Inuk en colère), crée, grâce au cinéma, des espaces de « souveraineté visuelle » centrés sur l’« agentivité sensorielle » inuite (Raheja, 2010 ; Robinson, 2016). La réalisatrice propose un recadrage, selon un point de vue inuit, de la rhétorique dominante entourant la chasse aux phoques, pratique décriée violemment par des groupes de défense des droits des animaux. Plus qu’une simple réfutation de ces discours sudistes, ce film met de l’avant les connaissances inuites en lien avec le territoire et la gestion des ressources et remet en question les argumentaires libératoires soutenus par ces organismes, dont les raisonnements reconduisent des dynamiques coloniales plutôt que de les ébranler. Comme l’évoque son titre, le documentaire riposte à l’ire des protestataires anti-chasse aux phoques (dont la voix s’impose souvent au détriment des voix inuites, généralement tues), en créant un espace d’expression pour la colère inuite, présentée à la fois comme carburant et comme point de départ légitime et valide de la lutte contre les organismes en question. De façon centrale, le film met en scène des récits de chasse aux phoques s’appuyant sur une « agentivité sensorielle » inuite qui, aux yeux de Dylan Robinson, se manifeste sous la forme de « modes d’expression qui, à la fois, affirment une force culturelle et exercent une puissance affective auprès des personnes présentes ». Arnaquq-Baril propose ainsi des représentations de rires partagés, d’un froid ressenti, de sons joyeux de consommation communautaire de diverses parties du phoque, de même que des photos tirées de la campagne Twitter menée autour du mot-clic #sealfie ; cette campagne médiatique, ancrée dans une célébration humoristique et fière de la chasse inuite aux phoques, se veut en ce sens un contre-point au discours affectif simpliste et méprisant des organismes anti-chasse. En s’articulant autour de la résilience complexe propre aux Inuits, Inuk en colère incarne en soi une forme de souveraineté inuite, s’imposant au sein des récits qui participent à la sensibilisation du public quant aux enjeux entourant cette chasse. En outre, le film invite l’auditoire à réfléchir aux avenirs autochtones et à envisager de quelles manières l’activisme pour la défense des droits des animaux peut être décolonisé afin qu’il ne mène pas à la reconduction de dynamiques violentes d’extractivisme et de colonisation.

This article examines how “colonial time” is called into question in two short films of the National Film Board of Canada’s series Souvenir, from 2015. The question of time lies at the heart of this series, for which the NFB commissioned contemporary Indigenous filmmakers to take up their archives of visual material on Indigenous peoples. The colonial temporal framework is at work in the vast archives of ethnographic and documentary film and photography on Indigenous peoples dating back to the early twentieth century, in which Indigenous people are often represented as part of “vanishing” cultures. Thus, in this article, I underscore the temporal interruptions that occur when ethnographic visual material of Indigenous peoples is put into the hands of contemporary Indigenous artists. I focus first on what it means to repurpose dehumanizing colonial archives and ask whether visual sovereignty is in fact possible within the archives. By analyzing the reappropriation of archival footage in the short films Mobilize by Caroline Monnet and Etlinisigu’niet (Bleed Down) by Jeff Barnaby, I elucidate how the filmmakers break with modes of colonial time through what I propose to call “reframings” that offer alternative ways of conceiving of time. By rehabilitating ethnographic images, these filmmakers refuse to project the material into the distant past and complicate the readability of Indigenous images in the archives, revealing how the reappropriation of old images can be just as powerful as the production of new ones.

Cet article se penche sur les relations et collaborations récentes entre les cinéastes autochtones et québécois. Une brève exploration des représentations autochtones antérieures et du contexte contemporain de co-réalisation Québec/Autochtonie nous permet d’esquisser un portrait plus nuancé des nouvelles configurations transnationales du paysage cinématographique québécois. De même, les notions d’autochtonisation du médium, de souveraineté visuelle et de survivance nous aideront à mieux cerner les œuvres de fiction réalisées par des cinéastes autochtones, qui contribuent à l’enrichissement d’un cinéma qui propose de nouvelles façons d’habiter les territoires québécois/autochtones.

Les projets d'expositions archivistiques—et leur documentation—sont des lieux de production de connaissances en histoire de l'art, ainsi que des interventions politiques, qui placent les documents dans un autre contexte afin d'interroger les canons et les façons de voir des colonialistes-colons. À partir de ces relations discursives, visuelles et archivistiques, cet article examine deux rétrospectives solos des œuvres sculptées et peintes des artistes modernistes kwakwaka'wakws, Doug Cranmer ('Namgis) et Henry Speck (Tlawit'sis), présentées à Vancouver en 2012. En considérant comment les conservateurs ont fait appel aux archives familiales intimes et à des documents du domaine public, il traite de l'utilité des archives du modernisme pour activer des liens affectifs, ancestraux et familiaux au-delà des modes de compréhension canoniques et historiques des mouvements esthétiques et des contextes de production

Cet article porte sur les oeuvres artisanales des femmes wendates du xix ₑ siècle dans le contexte plus large des traditions des arts visuels wendats. En plus des objets commerciaux, l’auteure présente des objets faits pour être utilisés lors d’occasions cérémonielles et rituelles spéciales, et qui avaient aussi une valeur importante dans la communauté. Ces deux catégories d’artisanat dévoilent la façon dont les femmes wendates adaptaient leurs traditions artistiques aux sphères économiques et diplomatiques du monde colonial, et ce avec grand succès. Ces arts ont aidé la communauté à conserver une vision du monde amérindienne et ont préservé des traditions culturelles qui se sont perpétuées d’une génération à l’autre, tout en intégrant des innovations créatives. Ils démontrent aussi le rôle diplomatique important joué par les oeuvres présentées aux dignitaires eurocanadiens et européens dans un contexte cérémoniel, afin d’établir et de maintenir des relations politiques et économiques harmonieuses.

Dans le contexte de l’héritage canadien de colonialisme et de profond racisme, les musées ont contribué à l’oppression des Noir.e.s, des communautés de couleur et des peuples autochtones en gardant le silence ou en supprimant certaines histoires sous prétexte d’« objectivité ». Cet article examine les pratiques commissariales de deux femmes noires canadiennes, Gaëtane Verna, directrice et conservatrice en chef de la galerie d’art contemporain The Power Plant, et Andrea Fatona, commissaire indépendante, afin de situer le commissariat critique à l’intérieur de perspectives afroféministes intersectionnelles. En conformité avec une base conceptuelle fondamentale de ce féminisme, je soutiens que ce qui rend l’acte commissarial « critique » est la reconnaissance non seulement de la position qu’une personne occupe dans la société, mais aussi de celles dont elle ne fait pas toujours l’expérience. En examinant les pratiques de ces deux femmes, je mets au jour une riche histoire de l’art et du commissariat des Noir.e.s au Canada.

Shelley Niro is widely known for her ability to explode myths, transgress boundaries and embody the ethos of her matriarchal culture in a wide variety of mediums including photography, installation, film and painting. Niro creates photographic series that emphasize the medium?s inherent capacity for narrative and representation. She pushes the limits of photography by incorporating Mohawk imagery, re-appropriating traditional stories such as Skywoman and The Peacemaker, and by focusing on contemporary subjects with wit, irony and campy humor. Niro marries portraiture, performance art and satire by having her subjects and herself perform for the camera in ways that gently invite audiences to rethink their beliefs and preconceptions about indigenous peoples and themselves. With compassion and deep insight, Niro opens up the fault lines and desires of gender, sexuality and culture to create images of freedom from the status quo in representation. Photography was a medium that helped subjugate indigenous peoples, but in Niro?s revolutionary hands it empowers

Catalogue d'exposition avec des textes de Ryan Rice, Françoise Charron, Emily Falvey et Hilda Nicholae.

Catalogue d'exposition avec des textes de Ryan Rice; Jason Baerg; Lori Blondeau; Martin Loft; Cathy Mattes; Nadia Myre; Ariel Lightningchild Smith.

This comprehensive anthology places issues of racial representation squarely on the canvas. Within these pages are representations of Nubians in ancient art, the great tradition of Westernmasters such as Manet and Picasso and contemporary work by lesser known artists.

This multidisciplinary collection probes ways in which emerging and established scholars perceive and theorize decolonization and resistance in their own fields of work, from education to political and social studies, to psychology, medicine, and beyond

"Art of the Northwest Coast is a comprehensive survey of the Native arts of the Pacific Northwest Coast, spanning the region from Puget Sound to Alaska, and proceeding from prehistoric times to the present. Incorporating the region's social history with the observations of anthropologists, historians of art, and Native peoples, this rich, vibrant book reveals how a complex web of factors informed these groups' varied responses to the changes and challenges brought about by contact with Europeans."-