 Good afternoon. Hi. So as you settle back into your seats, I wanted to welcome you to the last session of the Graduate Student Symposium. I'm Cindy Kang, I'm the Associate Curator here at the Barnes Foundation. And we've been so delighted to have you here, to host you here. This is one of the great joys of the research education interpretation and, you know, curatorial department here at the Barnes is to have these connections with the regional universities and with the graduate students and the new research that you are all producing. So I hope you've enjoyed the day and the rich and stimulating talks. You can come in. And we are now at our last session. I was very pleased to see how these papers actually really all hung together in a pretty interesting way and talk to each other all about the ways and different ways in which Euro-American art is shaped by or relates to colonialist and imperialist ambitions in Asia, in North Africa, in Egypt. So without further ado, I am going to bring up Dr. Catherine Pulizzi to introduce the first speaker. Thank you. Good afternoon. A very, very warm thanks to the speakers and I echo Cindy in saying, rich, stimulating day. Also thanks to our hosts for making it possible. It's so such a pleasure to be here. Dr. Christina Lamchakalava, known to friends, family, and now to all of you as Tina. She came to Rutgers with a BA from Lafayette College, but then she went to Austria because of her Austrian heritage and she did a diploma and her MA at the University of Vienna. She very strategically, I would say, chose her dissertation topic on Prince Eugene's Belvedere Palace in Vienna. Strategically, I say, because of course it forced her to do her field research in Vienna. So she was in Vienna throughout the course of the pandemic which presented its own issues. And extraordinarily, I have to just add one little note that she did not go to Demels to eat Saka Tota because she does not like chocolate. Go figure, go figure. So her dissertation, she had the challenging task in which she succeeded of talking about a major very well-studied monument, hardly neglected, but she went beyond the architecture, beyond the facades into the interiors of the Belvedere. And there she had another problem and that is that the interiors were stripped of all of their portable objects with the death of the patron Prince Eugene. So her task and she succeeded in that was to reanimate those interiors and to reconstruct them on the basis of letters, inventories and engravings and to bring them back to life because it was here that the patron Eugene managed to amass collection from the different parts of the globe through his political connections and also through his economic network. So this topic or this dissertation taught me a good deal and it uncovers how the Prince made the summer residence, this pleasure palace, into a stage for international diplomacy. And in the interior decoration of the Belvedere, he introduced modes, fashions that then became influential at the imperial court. They appeared first at the Belvedere as Tina has demonstrated. As a offshoot of the dissertation, she published an article on the quadratura. That was of course a fixed decoration in the palace and that was in, I think, 2020 that came out in the Diane All Best Shrift. I also would like to say that Dr. Chakalova is a newly minted PhD as of this fall and not only that, but she is taking up an assistant professorship this fall at Hillsdale College. So over to you. So thank you, Catherine, for the very kind introduction. And I also want to say thank you to the Barnes and to Alia for your hard work in organizing. The Belvedere is Prince Eugene of Sovoise, magnificent summer palace at the foremost Austrian architect Johann Lucas von Hildebrandt designed. Two structures unify this gradually sloping garden estate that grants visitors a spectacular view of the heart of Vienna. Focusing on the upper building, this paper examines the prince's outfitting of the upper Belvedere with Chimoiserie between 1719 and 1723. These years coincide with Prince Eugene's governorship of the Austrian Netherlands, which began in 1716 and ended in 1724. Prince Eugene ruled this Habsburg territory in absentia because he was also the president of the Imperial War Council and fulfilled diplomatic duties to Emperor Charles VI in the Imperial city. For the performance of official ceremonies and audiences at the upper Belvedere, Prince Eugene created a carefully designed stage to convey grandeur and emphasize his cultural, intellectual, and political authority. While it was Prince Eugene's Asian imports that shaped a new aesthetic culture of luxury among Vienna's highest nobles, the scholarship concerning Chimoiserie's impact on the city focuses primarily on the Empress Maria Theresia's accomplishments during the mid-century. My reading of Prince Eugene's letters, study of extant fabrics and analysis of visual evidence offered by Solomon Kleiner's Prince of the palace interiors, has enabled me to reconstruct, interpret, and explain a significant facet of this famous monument, which has not yet been studied or considered in the scholarship on Chimoiserie. Indeed, during the first quarter of the 18th century, the upper Belvedere introduced to Vienna the earliest and most extensive application of Chimoiserie fabrics. Sumptuous painted and embroidered Chinese silk taffeta and satin embossed damask, as well as colorful Indian chins, dressed the walls of select high-ranking chambers on the upper Belvedere's piano nobile originally. Asian fabrics also enlivened this palace's custom furnishings now lost. While not the focus of this paper, but are still worth mentioning, Chinese armorial plates were also owned by the Prince and they have survived in part. They were displayed at all times on an Etagerie at the upper Belvedere. This set is among the earliest armorial porcelain to ever have been commissioned and is also the first to be displayed in all of Central Europe. These resplendent Asian imports were visual tokens of the Habsburg's global dominion achieved thanks to Prince Eugene through his support of the controversial Ostend East India Company. Formed during the Prince's governorship of the Austrian Netherlands, this maritime venture became a highly prosperous enterprise and also an effective political bargaining chip that advanced Charles VI's aspirations. Indeed, the emperor eventually forfeited the Ostend Company in March 1731 as per the conditions of the Second Treaty of Vienna. This treaty stipulates that the Ostend East India Company must be dissolved in order for the terms of the pragmatic sanction from 1713 to finally be recognized by Europe's leading monarchs. In other words, Maria Theresia was only recognized unequivocally as her father's rightful heir once the lucrative Ostend Company that Prince Eugene had built up ceased to operate. Prince Eugene's far Eastern imports were novel in Vienna at the dawn of the century and they performed as a vibrant articulation of the Prince's sound governance on behalf of the Holy Roman Emperor. They also demonstrate that Prince Eugene enjoyed dominion over these coveted oriental trade routes that the Ostend East India Company monopolized. So for example, embossed Chinese Damascus and vivid shades of red, green, blue, white, and yellow dressed the walls of various chambers on the piano nobile. And while these fabrics are no longer seen on palace walls today, evidence of their appearance is provided by textiles that once the upper Bevedere was completed, Prince Eugene and his French interior designer Claude Le Foire du Plessé used to outfit a second garden palace in Marshfield, Austria which is called Schlosshof. This structure's spectacular Asian fabrics remain largely intact and they're now stored at the Muck, which is the Museum of Applied Art in Vienna. The Ostend Company had supplied this hoard of fabrics for the upper Bevedere's outfitting originally. This cachet was so abundant that it was used to decorate two garden palaces that were completed within a span of only 10 years. The upper Bevedere's ornamenting started in 1719. By 1729 Schlosshof was finished just in time to celebrate Prince Eugene's 66th birthday. The prince's extant fabrics from Schlosshof compare closely to the upper Bevedere's Asian textiles that Kleiner pictured in his prints which the prince commissioned. These prints reveal that Prince Eugene ornamented elite chambers and upholstered custom furnishings and imported silk, the mask and chints which European nobles on the grand tour also describe in detailed contemporary accounts of the Bevedere. For example, the notable presence and unique material splendor of red Chinese damask in a conference chamber and green Chinese damask in the audience chamber in the apartment des parades, greatly impressed contemporary visitors. In both chambers, which are the most official spaces at the entire garden palace, Chinese fabrics performed as international political trophies. Just like at Schlosshof, the Chimaserie at the upper Bevedere in outfitting of elite chambers in corresponding and matching fabrics fit with contemporary fashion and French interior design at the crossroads of the Louis XIV and Regens styles. At the beginning of the 18th century in Biennese noble interiors, luxury textiles were only displayed during special occasions like an air purdigone or the act of hereditary homage, which is the Austrian Habsburgs version of a coronation ceremony. Otherwise, the custom was for textile wall coverings to be stored. It was only during the mid-century under the reign of Maria Theresia when walls dressed permanently by fabrics became a prerequisite in Biennese rooms that were used for the purpose of authoritative representation. This trend was introduced to Vienna by Prince Eugene who was raised at the French court of Louis XIV. The prince took imprinted knowledge of Versailles with him to Austria. In doing so, he brought forth new considerations about how matching textiles can achieve a harmonious whole through form and color. Ornately pattern, Chimaserie was considered unfitting in formal spaces with a ceremonial purpose like the aforementioned conference in audience chambers that were each dressed in Chinese Damascus of a single color, yet highly desirable in rooms designated for leisure. Indeed, dazzling painted or embroidered silk panels and chins pertaining colorful flora and a myriad of birds decked out the west wing of the Upper Bevedere's Piano Nobile in rooms intended for entertaining. For example, Prince Eugene's coffee room in the Apartment des Societés was covered entirely in chins. This display was unique in Vienna. The prince's chins was manufactured in India with an applique embroidery technique. A dollhouse is actually the earliest known and still extant example of a European interior outfitted in chins exclusively. It belonged to Petronella du Noir and dates to 1676. Another example of chins decking out a whole room but in a noble interior is the Calico Chamber at the now-destroyed Caldery Castle that was in West Sussex and that dates to 1682. During the reign of Louis XIV, almost every French country palace had one room decorated with chins because it was considered ideal for a room's summer-like decoration. Indeed, the Upper Bevedere is a summer palace. Kleiner's print of the coffee room reveals that there's an undulating concave and convex chins banner or a valance that's stretched across the top of the wall and cast a shadow. Broad repeating bands of chins also span the walls above the boiseries and underneath the valance. These lost embroidered textiles compare closely to the preserved chins valance and wall hangings that come from Schlosshof. There are also two fully preserved state beds from Schlosshof made entirely of sophisticated chins and one of them is fully pictured here. These are among the earliest surviving of their kind and they imitate closely the two state beds from the Upper Bevedere that were tailored about 10 years earlier. Imaginative motifs with flowers, animals and various figures who are engaged in activities from hunting to foraging, populate the Prince's extant chins and these now lost panels that enriched the Upper Bevedere's coffee room and the state beds. Following Upper Bevedere and later Schlosshof chins became especially popular in Austria during the mid 18th century due to the vibrancy and precise designs that caused contemporaries to deem chins unmatched by any existing European textile. European made luxury fabrics were widely available when Prince Eugene furnished the Upper Bevedere. Yet he sought out rare Asian materials for his garden palace because the overwhelming presence of brightly colored and shimmering textiles also charged the atmosphere and stimulated visitors. Accordingly in Kleiner's print of the coffee room guests react to the foreign cloth with keen interest. Near the fireplace, one gentleman stands with his back to the viewer to emphasize that he's concentrating solely on this chamber's brilliant chins. The footmen in the background points emphatically towards the chamber's large windows with both hands and a gentleman in front of him motions with his cane in the same direction. Finally his female companion gestures with both pointer fingers in opposite directions. This underscores subtly that the chins fabrics are connected in their vibrancy and proportional harmony to the palace's magnificent gardens. Similarly in the game room which is located right next to the coffee room one gentleman's upright arm draws our attention to the animated floral and vegetal panels of Chinese Damasque that dressed these walls originally. This fabric compares very closely to an embroidered silk panel from Schlosshof. As visualized by gestures and glances this gentleman engages a second man in a dialogue centered on the imported fabric's imagery. The footman who stands in the center of the game room also responds and he points to the north facing windows that overlook the gardens as well. Like in the coffee room these textiles repeating geometric patterns are arranged vertically and mimic the gardens chiseled headsets and scrolling flower beds. When viewed from the north facing windows of the coffee and game rooms and thus seen from above at an ideal vantage point the Bevedetis gardens appear similarly as repeating and colorful linear patterns. The intended result is an optical delight. Imported Asian fabrics at the upper Bevedetis connect the palace interiors to the gardens on the exterior visually to produce an all-encompassing aesthetic and sensory experience. Accordingly the prince's letters to the founding members of the Ostend company reveal that he had envisioned Chimoiserie for his garden palace from its conception circa 1717. This year also marks the time that Dominique Gérard broke ground on the Bevedetis gardens. Gérard was Louis XIV's water engineer at Versailles and he was a pupil of Henri le Neutre. Gérard conceived a formal gardens for the prince in the French Baroque manner. They were restored to their original design between 1991 and 2003. Just as at Versailles these gardens consist of hairfully sculpted shrubs, long paths and fabulous vistas castigating water and sprouting fountains as well as an aviary and menagerie. Daniel Moreau created models that promote a relationship between gardens and interior design. Inspired by Jean-les-Pôtes, Charles-les-Pronnes and Jean-Bérin, Moreau's patterns were first published and widely circulated in 1703 and then again in 1713. They became highly fashionable across Europe at the time of the Bevedetis gardens construction in 1717. In addition to balance and proportional landscaping, Moreau advocates for geometrically embellished interiors that are based in mathematics to achieve harmony and become visually pleasing. Prince Eugene's French interior designer arranged fabric panels on the palace's walls in an orderly manner and vertically in imitation of the gardens symmetry and thus in accordance with Moreau's designs. Finally, foreign plants, animals and birds rendered on the Asian textiles helped to connect more intimately the interiors to the prince's collection of living specimens outside in the Bevedetis aviary and menagerie. This palace was the home of early 18th century Europe's most magnificent menagerie and the prince himself provided the opportunity to study rare specimens in Vienna. At the start of the 18th century Prince Eugene initiated the imperial city's most exquisite presentation of Indian and East Asian imports of the Upper Bevedetis. This communicated that the prince was at the forefront of contemporary taste making but also professed that he attained the high rank of governor general of the Austrian Netherlands. No other palace in or near Vienna displayed Chimoiserie fabrics on the same scale as the Upper Bevedetis or Schlosshof until the mid 18th century, at which point Maria Theresia reconstructed Schoenbund Castle under the direction of Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach. My research establishes that far Eastern imports experienced a rapidly rising status as elite objects in Vienna's interior decoration due to Prince Eugene who paved the way for the empress. My analysis of Prince Eugene's attraction to Chimoiserie contributes to our understanding of how migrating artwork, maritime history and early modern globalization directly impacted the trajectory of European interior design. Thank you. Good afternoon. My name is Wendy Bellion and on behalf of the University of Delaware I'd like to begin by echoing the thanks to the Barnes Foundation for hosting us and to our colleagues at Penn, Bryn Mawren Temple for co-organizing this year's symposium. And it's my great delight to introduce my advisor, Leah Stevenson. Leah is a doctoral candidate in art history at Delaware and her work focuses on late 19th century American and British art specifically at the Gilded Age looking in particular at the relationship between the senses, embodiment and portraiture. And she's just embarked on a very original and exciting dissertation entitled Wonderful Things, Egyptomania, Empire and the Senses, 1870 to 1922. This is a project that will look at Anglo-American artists and collectors in Egypt during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. And I know that she was delighted to learn just today that Mr. Barnes collected some things that are here when he was in Paris at one point. Leah received her masters from Williams College in 2017 and her BA from Temple in 2015. She's been a research fellow at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Preservation Society of Newport. And she's also worked at the Dallas Museum of Art and at the Clark. She's also published a number of scholarly articles including a recent digital humanities article in 19th century art worldwide that explores the changing light effects in a Newport mansion, in particular, the dining room at Kingscote in 1881. She's currently working on an essay for the American Folk Art Museum that explores the idea of tactility in an 18th century over mantle portrait, locating this work and tracking it through the material cultures of early Rhode Island, the West Indies and systems of enslaved labor. And I'm delighted that Leah and I have had the opportunity to co-author a forthcoming article for 19th century art worldwide that analyzes the earliest exhibition of paintings right here in Philadelphia at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in 1807 and presents an interactive digital reconstruction of this lost space. And with that, please join me in welcoming Leah to present her paper, which is entitled John Singer Sergeant, Whiteness and the Allure of Egyptomania. Thank you, Wendy. And again, I wanna echo all of the wonderful gratitude and thank you to Leah and the barn staff for organizing this symposium. It's been wonderful to hear everyone's research today. In 1891, John Singer Sergeant would not stop in Paris, but rather journeyed forth to Egypt. Upon reaching Deer al-Bari, part of ancient Thebes and located on the western side of the Nile River, the artist situate himself facing the cliffs. Below his body lay funerary complexes, including the 18th dynasty temple of Queen Hachebsa that spread out beneath the cliffs. But rather than study ancient remnants, Sergeant directed his attention toward the rising rock face and distant glimmer of the Nile, experimenting with the modulation of shadows. He immersed himself in the Egyptian setting as if corporeally registering the space. Though often associated with Gilded Age Society portraiture, Sergeant directly encountered and depicted Egypt as seeing what these works on the screen. The Nile region became part of his travel destinations throughout his career, including Italy, England, the Alps and the Middle East. During this 1891 journey, he completed a range of Egypt inspired studies in preparation for his Boston Public Library mural cycle, the Triumph of Religion. Only in the country for a few winter months, Sergeant and his travel party journeyed along the Nile by steamer. Like many late 19th century Americans touring Egypt, this group visited key ancient sites, including the Sphinx, temples at Luxor and the Temple of Hathor at Danderah. His artistic output would come to include sketches related to ancient Egyptian decoration, studies of contemporary Egyptians, including Felahin, and a large-scale nude of a young Egyptian girl. However, this corpus of artwork became largely embedded in racialized projections of Egypt. Sergeant's work references the racial politics and ambiguous identity of Egypt for American audiences of the Gilded Age. These orientalist studies emphasize depictions of figures in relation to flesh tones, veiled skin, and corporeality, suggesting how discourses on the North African country revolved around the body or uncertain cultural signs. Late 19th century American audiences constructed a complicated relationship to the region at once adopting antiquity as part of a white Euro-American canon and classifying Egypt in terms of otherness. Today I examine how Sergeant's Egypt inspired work engaged with a particular racial vision for audiences, whiteness, or its notable absence found in contemporary Egypt. Overall, these objects became entangled in a larger sensation, Egyptomania. This phenomenon referenced an attraction to all things Egyptian, and I use the term to know an embodied engagement with the ancient empire and the modern North African country. This second wave Egyptomania lasted roughly from 1870 to 1922 and embraced a multi-sensorial vision. For 19th century Euro-American audiences, the ancient Egyptian past and contemporary orient would often blend into a fantasy melding the past and the present. Americans crafted this form of orientalism, whether through souvenirs of mummified human bodies, obelisks, portraits of Cleopatra, studies of excavated antiquities, or picturesque local figures. This fantasy relied on travelers like Sergeant who could claim direct encounters with Egypt. But this phenomenon also became entangled with a larger program of colonialism. Touring Egypt became a fashionable trend for 19th century elite white travelers. This wave of Egyptomania included American artists, collectors, and travelers interpreting the country for late 19th century audiences amidst rising British imperialism. By the 19th century, the Egyptian ruler Ismael Pasha and his dynastic ruling family had championed modernization in Cairo and looked to European cultural or urban models while still under the Ottoman Empire, seen here with the expatriate hotel, Shepard's Hotel, and the Cairo Opera House. Yet Egypt's economic debt tied to European powers also led to British occupation by 1882 under a bailed protectorate, colonial occupation by another name. What were the implications of a white Euro-American artist reinterpreting Egypt? Though the United States did not explicitly establish a colony in the country, the relationship between American artists and collectors in Egypt was a form of aesthetic and cultural imperialism. As part of a broader colonial project, practices of representation became racialized. They involved mapping whiteness onto and around ancient black and brown civilizations. Embodied experiences in this country enabled Americans to construct a sense of whiteness. This wave of Egyptomania in the United States also intersected with the decades of reconstruction and the rise of Jim Crow segregation racial violence. In this post-Civil War environment, elite white people further defined racial caste systems. At the same time, members of this privileged social class identified themselves with an ancient Egyptian elite. In 1867, Henry James wrote that Americans held the ability to, quote, deal freely with forms of civilization, not their own, to pick and choose and assimilate in short, claim their property wherever they find it, end quote. This elite group appropriated the aesthetics and materials of a black civilization they conveniently cast as bygone, appearing in portraits as Cleopatra, whitewashing Egypt in paintings, or fabricating the Egyptian revival across the country. This cultural appropriation of an ancient past enabled elite Euro-Americans to separate themselves from present-day Egypt. This was a processing of othering that rejected the country's bid for European-style modernity. In a sense, Egyptomania became tied to a white Euro-American racial imagination and objects offered escape into a fantasy of Egypt and a means for Americans to conceptualize the bodies of others as well as their own. During his journey, Sargent completed studies of contemporary Egyptian men and women, paintings of Felahin, a farmer or agricultural laborer, include men in white turbans and various mantles. Skin and the empty passages of canvas meet as if the body melds into the material. Textiles envelop the men or faces become shrouded in tufts of blue. This dynamic brushwork Sargent captured the lighting effects on surfaces, weathered skin from the sun or a glistening forehead under light. Skin pigmentation and sculptural fabric appear as studies in Egyptian light, one envisioned upon the body. The artist also depicted Coptic Christian women, likely the same model dressed in different necklaces, scarves and poses. In one study, she wears a tight-fitting black scarf or tarhah over a white kerchief, the aspe, with a loose robe and a gold pendant earrings. Two studies include the woman gazing out, perhaps locking eyes with the viewer. The final work, Egyptian woman captures the same model in a black veil and a vibrant gold necklace. Hints of skin peek out beneath the gauze-like material. Though not portrait, Sargent's work emphasizes the representation of skin rather than other signifiers such as clothing or ornament. And he played with depictions of flesh tones as an iteration of Egyptomania, conceiving of skin, embodiment, and imperialism through the bodies of Egyptians. Surrounding these works, Americans were already deeply entrenched in racial hierarchies. This Egyptomania coincided with the white patrician anxieties and fear that the influx of immigrants would replace the elite. Sargent's own patrons in the Northeast, such as the Morgans and Asters, prioritized pedigree and ancestral lineage to maintain racial boundaries in society. By the 1850s, white Americans argued for the superiority of Anglo-Saxons to explain the success of the nation or white imperialism. At the same time, this group became interested in staking and imagined cultural foundation in Egypt found across the emerging museum collections, such as the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. They linked a Western canon to ancient Egypt, separate from the contemporary country. For instance, the illustration, the Caucasian types within Josiah Clark Knot and George Robbins Glidden's 1854 book, Types of Mankind, demonstrates how ancient Egyptian wall paintings were used as visual evidence for racial hierarchies. Relying upon the stylized outlines of an ancient Egyptian, Knot and Glidden classified each profile to demarcate a racial type. In other words, ancient Egypt's visual iconography became entangled with phrenology and biological racism to justify a particular narrative. Ancient Egyptians had to be racialized as white in these visual representations. Such tics, texts built the groundwork for an ingrained hierarchy among late 19th century viewers. Sargent's works are not simply canvases, but now served as agents for a racial system. In an 1879 scientific racism text, Principia of Ethnology by Martin Delaney, the preface begins with a description of skin color gradations and complexion in terms of Ethiopian and Egyptian civilizations. Though Delaney argues for a single origin for the human race, rather than splitting ancient Egypt into a separate category, his text highlights the importance of classifying skin tones. This even extended to the process of unveiling Egypt when literally unwrapping mummy bandages and encounters with preserved skin. At mummy unwrapping parties, participants revealed the ancient body's skin, which provoked questions about the race of the preserved Egyptian. But Sargent instead confronted a contemporary Egypt, capturing living and breathing bodies. Rather than picture the people of antiquity, the artist created racialized depictions, drawing attention to the skin tones. These studies are not captured as a gallery of worthies recognized by a gilded age audience, but rather as individualized types. He played with the modeling, distilling facial features and dark tones for audiences, conditioned to expect Egyptian otherness. Similar to pressed flowers gathered on 19th century chips to the Near East and saved in travel albums, bodies are compressed onto canvas to preserve the contemporary non-white vision of Egypt. The 19th century experience with modern Egypt itself was described in terms of these corporeal driven encounters. Like scenes captured by photography studios in Cairo, American tourists would be immersed in twisting alleys and bazaars. Navigating the space and contemporary population. At times, they often blended their idea of the fictional Arabian nights with Cairo. This emphasis on sensuous escapism appeared in travelogues for early Americans. For instance, in 1874 to 75, the collector, Isabella Stewart Gardner, tore the Nile Valley and described the experiences with the Cairo landscape. Quote, the people had stepped out of the Arabian nights, which were no longer tales that we had read, but were bits of real life happening with us looking on. And we had truly come abroad and forgot ourselves. End quote. As with many Americans deciphering Egypt, Gardner envisioned herself in a imagined setting, separate from this fictional group. Like the embodied experience of a American traveler, Sergeant reinterpreted bodies that had been encountered during his journey throughout Egypt. Accounts themselves also include tourists remarking on these contemporary Felaen and relating them to the ancestors who built the pyramids or ancient statues. Felaen carried an ambiguous lineage back to antiquity that remained rooted to a present Egypt. European audiences described the Fela as a type to be encountered and connected to the Egyptian terrain. For instance, the French novelist, Leofield Gauthier in his 1869 Voyage en Egypt projects an orientalist vision, quote, the profound intimacy of the Fela with the earth. The Fela comes from this clay that he treads. He is molded by it and barely extricates himself from it. Nowhere is this accord of man and soil more visible. It extends its color over all things. Gauthier notes this blending of Egyptian terrain and other body looting to the skin. Sergeant may have been familiar with the text since he had trained in Paris and likewise focuses upon the character of skin and buildup of flesh. Compared to photographs of distant Felaen alongside Grand Egyptian ruins to suggest scale, the painter emphasizes a degree of immediacy. Bodies are offered to the Euro-American viewer's gaze as if mediating contemporary Egypt through portrayals of skin. Sergeant would again play with this tension of skin and material in his later work. In 1917, he traveled to Florida and completed various watercolor studies of black men reclining in the sun. The artist also captured an intimate study of an unidentified nude figure. Lying on a bed with a cigarette in his hand, the figure appears sunburnt with tan lines marking where a bathing dress had been worn. In this intimate portrayal and gazing down upon the body, Sergeant captured the different intents, the pale exaggerated tones of untouched skin and the darker tonalities of burnt surfaces falling across the crisp white bedsheets. It is as if white and non-white markers exist on the same frame. In a similar fashion, the painter became drawn to tonalities in the play of shadows in the Orient, experimenting with what tones will be mapped onto bodies. The only head study to be exhibited during Sergeant's lifetime, sketch of a Bedouin Arab, depicts a young Bedouin man dressed in a hake or a long robe. The white mantle surrounds his dark skin, wrapping his features and body. With gestural brushstrokes, Sergeant suggested the drapery falling across the Bedouin's chest. This dark fabric is placed up against the skin of his model. Skin surfaces build up with tactile-like brushwork against segments of canvas. These truncated studies are also reminiscent of paintings of artifacts coming out of archeological sites in Egypt. For instance, the American artist Joseph Lennon Smith often traveled with Egyptologists, recording the unearthed antiquities that then served as reference materials for museums. In Bust of Akhenaten, Smith depicts the profile of an isolated fragment, noting the abrasions and fragile cracks of the headdress. Vestiges of Egyptian pigment appear along the neck. Above all, Smith isolates the artifact for his viewers, an object that can be easily consumed. We can understand what Smith does by looking to Timothy Mitchell in his essay, Orientalism and the Exhibitionary Order, which considers the representation of the non-Western world at universal expositions, specifically Middle Eastern visitors and spaces envisioned by Europeans. Objects stand in for an experience of the real, or a space reduced to objectness. In a similar fashion, Sargent's head studies convey a desire for an immediacy and experience of the Orient. Feline bodies now captured the materiality of paint. Years later, signs of this 1891 trip ended up on the walls of the Boston Public Library. For his mural cycle, Sargent combined ancient Egyptian motifs. With a large lunette or on pagan religion, he incorporated the stylized form of Egyptian bodies sourced from ancient wall panels and temples to depict a pharaoh oppressing the Israelites. The surrounding vault includes a depiction of Egyptian statuary encased in gold to underline a mysterious decadent past. He then installed the frieze of prophets below this lunette. Dramatized poses, each figure includes a white male, draped in robes, some modeled after Sargent's own friends and members of a Northeast elite. The prophets bear their luminous white chests, raising their pale limbs to a higher religious power. Yet these figures also appear reminiscent of the sculptural fabric surrounding his studies of Egyptian figures. In a sense, the contemporary North African country appears absent, the embodied presence of Felahin erased. Thank you. Good afternoon, I'm Nancy Locke and I teach art history at Penn State University. It gives me great pleasure to introduce my doctoral advisor, Olivia Crawford. Olivia received her BA summa cum laude with a double major in art history and modern foreign languages. And literatures with a concentration in French and Francophone studies at the University of Tennessee Knoxville and her MA at Penn State, where her master's paper, Models of Colonization, Hédoche Céphayeaux and the Jewish communities of colonial Algeria was supervised by me but also by my colleague, Dr. Madri Desai. Olivia has worked as a graduate teaching assistant in a variety of courses at Penn State. She has also been a curatorial intern at the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh as well as the Palmer Museum of Art at Penn State University Park. She received a summer language institute scholarship for her study of Arabic at Penn State's Summer Language Institute. Olivia's dissertation analyzes French representations of colonial and metropolitan Jewish communities from the colonization of Algiers to the Dreyfus Affair. The project looks at the intersections of 19th century French imperialism and anti-Semitism in the works of artists and architects operating between the Maghreb and France. Olivia is currently a lecturer at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. Her paper today is entitled Le Tempe et Srealite, Neo-Morish Synagogues in France and Algeria, 1830 to 1918. Please welcome Olivia Crawford. Thank you Nancy for that kind introduction and thank you to the Barnes for organizing this event as well as Aliyah for of course advising and also thank you Cindy for agreeing to moderate this session. So we shall begin. In a postcard from 1899, the minaret of the Al-Jadid Mosque acts as a local timepiece for the pedestrians and carriages that circulate in the Place du Gouverneur in Algiers. The taking of the minute in our hands rather than the adhan or call to prayer dictates the circadian rhythm of the city's inhabitants and the equestrian statue of the Duke d'Orléans turns his gaze towards the entangled mass of winding streets and buildings of the Casbah untouched by the French civilizing mission. The white facade of the Al-Jadid Mosque distinguishes the buildings from its neighbors whose statues rival its own and the adjacent house minion facades advertise the Western institutions found inside such as a publishing house and a hotel. The former foundations of the Al-Saidah Mosque and market stalls hide beneath pavers and clopping hooves. The West subsumes and transforms the East. Following the conquest of Algiers in 1830, the Place du Gouverneum became one of the earliest sites of colonial experimentation and provides one of many case studies that demonstrates the heterogeneity of the French imperial mission. After taking the city, France set out to create Algeria in its image and the former Islamic state of the Ottomans made way for the pluralism touted by its European colonizers. When tasked with identifying an appropriate visual language for the new colony, French city planners looked to the metropole for the expansion of and reordering of older Magrabi cities but incorporated local elements to produce a more indigenous veneer for official buildings. The resultant Neo-Morish style attempted to integrate these institutions into Algiers pre-existing neighborhoods while also demonstrating French colonial knowledge and technical prowess. Colonial officials left select districts and institutions intact, thus preserving a pre-colonial past that became part of the constructed national history of the imperial state but demolished other areas in the name of the Mission civilisatrice or the civilizing mission. Early colonial subjects noted these urban erasures and in a poem from 1853 recounting the fall of Algiers in 1830, Siav del Qadr lamented the transformations underway in the new colonial capital, quote, such inequities committed by the accursed ones. Al-Qaesariah has been named Plaza and to think that holy books were sold and bound there. They have rummaged through the tombs of our fathers and they've scattered their bones to allow their wagons to go over them. O believers, the world has seen with its own eyes their horses tied in our mosques. The French and their Jews rejoiced because of it while we wept in our sadness, end quote. In addition to providing a record of colonial renovation, Siav del Qadr noted an early alliance between the colonial government and Algerian Jews with his vitriolic remarks suggesting the former's ownership over the latter. However, this relationship would prove critical to the success of the colonial mission in the Maghreb and the privileging of Algerian Jews over their Muslim neighbors manifested in the urban planning and architecture of the colony. The architecture for Algerian Jews demonstrates a French attempt to reconsider and reorient an imperial visual language that acknowledges an Eastern past and a Western future. Produced in the wake of historical collision, colonial urbanization in Algeria yielded a cultural hybridity that spanned continents and the neo-Marsh architectural mode appeared both in the colony and metropole to differing in incorporation and alienation. This paper will consider such negotiations by considering the development of monumental neo-Marsh synagogues in France and Algeria during the second half of the 19th century. So military engineers initially conceived of the aforementioned Plastu Gouvernement, also known as the Plastar, as a training ground large enough to accommodate military exercises and assemblies. However, pre-existing structures such as the Al-Sahida Mosque and some smaller homes and shops became casualties in this expansion. The plaza satisfied the needs of the military and allowed for the development of a new regulated marketplace and streets for carriages. The Plastu Gouvernement set off a centrifugal program of regularization and expansion and the surrounding streets, such as the Babazoun and Babelouet, widened to increase urban lunchability. Stores and residences made way for the imperial scalpel cutting through the cause buff. The poet C. Abdelcutter described the celebration of Algerian Jews during this destruction, but did not mention the significant portions of the Jewish neighborhood that also fell during the imperial renovation of the Marine Quarter. This district was the commercial center for Algiers largely inhabited by Neapolitan, Spaniards, Jews, as well as Algerian urban transplants and colonial forces planned to rejuvenate this area via urban reform to boost local economy. As a result, many communities lost areas during this process, including homes, shops, and places of worship. And when constructing the Rue and Plastu Charts, the French government tore down a small mosque and market but built a covered market large enough to accommodate 250 shops in the plaza as recompense. The Jewish community of Algiers also received reparations for urban losses. Rather than reconstructing old buildings and spaces operated by Algerian Jews, the French created new forms altogether. And by 1839, the government general promised to aid in the creation of a monumental synagogue on one of the newly widened streets. So a number of scholars such as Joshua Schreyer, Dominique Jaohassee, Valérie Assin, Marie Cécile Torral, Saskia Conan Snyder have attributed the French privileging of Jewish-Migravy communities to the cooperation of Jews in the civilizing mission in both the metropole and colony. In the latter, the Jews represented colonial values in exchange for cultural advancement from their pre-colonial status. So prior to occupation, the Ottoman Empire recognized Jews as Demis or individuals tolerated and protected by Muslim leaders in exchange for recurring taxes of the Jizya. And various laws ensured the separation and differentiation of Ottoman Jews and Christians. And Demis could not build public places of worship under Ottoman rule. Though legally tolerated and officially recognized, Algerian Jews conducted their prayers and rituals in the privacy of designated residences serving as synagogues. However, with the arrival of French forces in 1830, most Jewish communities of Algeria recognized the potential of a colonial alliance and began to align themselves with French colonizers by adopting their customs and acting as principally translators and guides for the military and government general. So, noting this compliance, the French government responded to these early Jewish attempts at assimilation with an imperial benevolence that sought to reward its subject with sociopolitical elevation. Moreover, France established a Western European precedent with the emancipation of French Jews in 1791 during the First French Revolution. Napoleon Bonaparte recognized Jewish agency by 1806 and two years later instituted a hierarchy of Jewish collectives known as consistories. Members of local congregations, as well as civic officials, served as chairs on these committees to protect and regulate the activities of Jewish communities. The institutionalization of Jewish practice in France also allowed for governmental surveillance and the sociopolitical recognition facilitated the integration of Jews into French society. By 1830, French Jews also took a particular interest in their counterparts in Algeria and the central consistory for the Israelites of France attempted to institute, excuse me, the virtues of the Enlightenment and Revolution in the Jewish communities abroad, the same virtues that allowed for emancipation and political recognition at home. In 1845, the French government with the support of the central consistory established a Napoleonic consistorial model in the colony and selected rabbis educated in French seminaries to have these organizations. However, the appointments of French Jewish rabbis cannot be disassociated from colonial aspirations in the colony. The French Grand Rabbi of the Algerian-Israeli Consistory, Misha Erin Vile, claimed quote, "'It is a religious and civilizing mission I have to fulfill. I must direct and lead my brothers to civilization in the name of and under the guardianship of our religion." End quote. The metropole exported both French and French Jewish cultures and the colony's institutional functioning came to resemble that of the colonizer. So legitimized and emboldened by the authority of the consistories, Algerian Jewish communities began participating in some of the urban renovations underway in the colonized cities of Algeria, such as Algiers. And the architecture produced for these Magrabi allies reveal the various negotiations made among Jewish, Algerian, French, colonial and imperial identities. After the initial 1839 agreement to build a synagogue following the demolition of the portions of the Jewish neighborhood and the Marine quarter, the Consistory of Algiers ensured the fulfillment of this promise. So after various proposals, the French minister of war allocated the great synagogue of Algiers, one of the most visible locations of the lower Kaspas situated on the newly created Rue and Placerin d'Or, right there. The Algerian Jewish community, and by extension the French government, showcased the benevolence of imperial rule to both Algerian locals and distant French audiences through the dissemination of photographic postcards from late 19th and early 20th centuries. In many of these images, the great synagogue of Algiers occupies the majority of the frame, capped with a monumental dome and white wash to reflect the brilliance of the Mediterranean sun. The synagogue towers above the surrounding buildings and plaza below, European and Algerian pedestrians, millabout and the Placerin d'Or, stopping by the various stalls and vendors selling their wares. The colonial government monumentalized the synagogue both commercially and physically. However, due to aforementioned Ottoman restrictions, Maghrabi Jewish architecture lacked precedent. So when tasked with designing the structure, French architect Gilles Baer, Ypolli Viola de Sorbier, looked to local Islamic examples such as the 17th century Algiers mosque located on the new Place du Gouverneumol. The tapered arches of the mosque become exaggerated and ogeated on the synagogue and the roofs wear crowns of pointed antifixes. The former, or excuse me, the form of two slender windows below the central arch reappears at the top of the synagogue's facade. As one of the first monumental synagogues of North Africa, the great synagogue of Algiers set off an architectural precedent for subsequent colonial synagogues that attempted to merge Western and Maghrabi forms. In 1848, Moroccan French officer Emmanuel Meneham Nahan of the Jewish Consistory of Oral submitted an official request to the Algerian governor general for the funds to create a new synagogue that would unite smaller Jewish enclaves. The negotiations made for the proposed synagogue lasted for several years and the building was inaugurated 70 years later in 1918. So between Nahan's initial request and the synagogue's opening, the French granted citizenship to almost all Algerian Jews with the Crimea decree in 1870 as a kind of recognition of Jewish, quote unquote, assimilation. By 1918, the Neo-Morris style of the grand synagogue of Oral more directly engages with European forms when compared to the synagogue of Algiers. The facade, for example, recalls a Catholic West work complete with twin towers and a rose window but also includes various orientalizing details typical of the French Neo-Morris such as the horseshoe arches and ornate stonework surrounding the principal window. Moreover, the interior provided a segregated gallery for female congregants. So a form and practice unknown to Sephardic locals. While the use of the Neo-Morris served assimilative ends in the colony, the same style alienated the Jewish communities of the Metropole. Just northwest of the historic district of Paris known as Le Plain Ray, the synagogue located on the Rue de Notes-Vendon-des-Vets showcases the byproducts and compromises of imperial exchange. An earlier synagogue had begun to collapse shortly after its inauguration in 1822 and the Paris Consistory applied to rebuild the lot in the 1840s. After the official approval of the proposal, the local prefect provided financial aid and the French architect Jean-Alexandre Thierry for their project. According to a review in the Monitor des Architectes from 1853, the Consistory requested that the government appointed architect Thierry maximize the interior space to accommodate as many devotees as possible but did not mention stylistic requirements. So without aesthetic restriction, Thierry presented the Ashkenazi Jews of Paris with the colonial architecture used for Sephardic Jews of Algeria. Meticulous geometric motifs decorate the temple's entrance and above it the roof features anti-fixes again recalling the decoration found on Algerian mosques and colonial synagogues. Similar to the Neo-Morish employed in Algeria, the Nazareth synagogue incorporated Western elements to create a saw that merged Byzantine, Renaissance, Moorish and antique architectural forms. Historical and cultural conflation superseded nuance. So a Gothic rose window appears at the end of the nave but at the center, the star of David blends into the surrounding geometries of the window. Just above the door, Thierry inscribed assurances of post-revolutionary pluralism, liberte egalité fraternité. These promises, however, are conditional and subject to negotiation. 19th century French architects considered the Neo-Morish style fitting for Jews throughout the empire but the conflation of French and Algerian Jewry implied the former did not belong to France but rather to an elusive East. Decorative arches frame the central rose window and above this, Thierry initially added a mechanical timepiece which is now lost but shown in an 1852 edition from the L'Ouestation and in a photographic postcard from 1900. David S. Landis argued that quote, time measurement and the mechanical clock made the modern world and gave the West primacy over the rest. Timekeeping was part of a larger, open, competitive Western attitude toward knowledge, science and exploration end quote. When the French, or excuse me, when the French converted the minaret of the LGD mosque into a clock tower for the Plastigouvernement, the government general enforced a regularizing time system that lent Western coherence to daily proceedings and outgears but the clock at the Nazareth synagogue seemed to perform the same modernizing function in the metropole but peculiar additions undermine the modernity it projected and we have astrological signs circumscribing this principle clock face. So time becomes both immediate and cosmological. This anachronism of the facade underscores 19th century perceptions of Jews existing outside of time regardless of geographic or cultural origin. Where the French centuries of historical exclusion seemed to result in a community preserved since antiquity and the Jews in both France and Algeria maintained a history distinct from that of their Gentile neighbors. After the French Revolution, Jewish modernity was contingent upon the acceptance of both occidentalizing and orientalizing policies. The secular French state institutionalized the Jewish faith of its empire and the neo-Morish of Algeria served to integrate Jewish populations while that of Paris estranged them. The synagogues of Algeria could only exist within a colonial context and this conversion, excuse me, their conversion into mosques following Algerian liberation in 1962 attest to this fact. Conversely, Sephardic Jewish allies fled the Maghreb after the Algerian Revolution and the Nazareth synagogue now serves this displaced community. Without these colonial forms persist in post-colonial states and history converts itself to reveal a foreign familiarity. Thank you. Hi, thank you so much. Tina, Leah, and Olivia for your wonderful papers. We have about 20 minutes left for questions. If there are any online questions or any questions in the audience, feel free to raise your hand. Carl will bring around the catch box. I think you guys are used to this by now, perhaps. But we'll start off with... Thank you so much. Wonderful papers, all three of them. And especially at a time when we can't easily travel around the world, a really nice way to travel through your research. My question is primarily for Christina Lam, Chakalova. I really enjoyed the way that you invited us to see aspects of global trade and chinoiserie in Vienna because I'm familiar with the 18th century scholarship that looks at Britain and France and how important it is in this trade. So it was really revelatory to see what you've done here. And I was particularly interested in the coffee room and thinking about the trade in porcelain and European efforts to create ceramic ware that would imitate the translucent quality and the thin materiality of Chinese porcelain. I loved how you invited us to see the correspondence between silk walls and the patterns of the gardens outside. But I'm also curious about what happens in the coffee room. And if there is any kind of Chinese porcelain or European imitations of it, that also repeat these kinds of patterns and designs and perhaps create conversations between design objects in those spaces as well. Okay, so at the bit of a day that there was actually almost no porcelain at all, except for that which was on the itagerie. So exactly this one that I'm showing here. So in terms of kind of imitating some of these forms, we do have this one plate, which I'm so thankful that this one still exists with these floral patterns upon the rim. I think that just visually speaking that does kind of draw out some of that, what we're seeing on the textiles as well. But what's I think quite interesting about having no porcelain at the bit of a day is that kind of at least what I've read is that by this point in the 18th century, the collecting of porcelain starts to take on kind of more a feminine connotation. And so this is not exactly something that Prince Eugene himself commissioned. This is something that he received as a gift from the Austin Company. So it might just be fortuitous that there's these floral decorations as well, but the founding members of this company certainly knew that he was interested in collecting animals and plants from abroad. They helped him kind of organize this. And so these are some of the main themes, not just on the textiles, but on the immorial porcelain as well. Yeah. So Olivia, struck by something that I wanna ask you about, but I admit at the outset that this is completely unfair because I'm taking your argument beyond the historical context in which you made it. So you can shut me down immediately. And that is I'm struck by the way in which Adler, as in Adler and Sullivan, in his synagogue architecture, seems to have been echoing exactly the forms that you noted. And I'm wondering if you have any idea what the root between Algeria and Chicago could possibly be. Yeah, so that's a great question that I'm just now starting to investigate because this project is still in a kind of fairly early moment. But yeah, I started noticing these formal congruences. And I also have to say, if you look at synagogues with these motifs, they're post-1830. So it's immediately after France's, Algiers has fallen. And I wish I had a more developed, more coherent thought regarding that, but it is certainly, these re-emerging forms seem to suggest one of the principle ideas that I'll be discussing my dissertation in that during the 19th century, you have this conflation of Jewish communities despite geographic discrepancy, distance, what have you, and that there is an embracing of shared forms despite these histories. And at this point, I need to look further into exactly what that looks like in an American context. But I do think at this preliminary stage that there is some shared history if it's not necessarily known to me at this point. But thank you for your question. It's something I'm certainly thinking about because you also see synagogues in Poland that also have neo-Morish elements as well. And it's exactly. It's a bizarre phenomenon, but it is coming at this moment, this proudly imperial moment in the 19th century that is kind of trying to bridge these different communities. But yeah, it's a bizarre phenomenon, which is why I began studying it. Thank you. I'm gonna take the moment to let myself ask a question. And Leah, you know, I was going to ask you a question because yay, something about Egypt. My question is, well, first of all, love to talk. Found it very convincing this argument about how these portraits are being used in this kind of divorcement of kind of Egypt from its African context. I was wondering if there had been any, is this the kind of old corpus of portraiture that you did? And is there more? And does any of that material relate maybe to the multi-ethnic kind of composition of Egypt this time? Obviously we have a lot of other different groups particularly like Nubians who live there. And what does that feed into any more of these narratives that are kind of more than just white versus Egyptian, but rather kind of divorcing again, Egypt from its African context and putting it into this Western narrative? Yeah, thank you for the question. Because Nubia has been in my head too about how that's being divorced from Egypt in terms of antiquity as well. These are the only portraits, or I mean he's portraits air quotes on this because portraits is such an open term as being mapped onto these studies, head studies, are the only ones that he's doing in Egypt that I have found so far. And what's interesting is that the majority that are very unfinished as you could see on the screen is that he's transporting them back with him to London on a rolled up canvas that ends up his studio alongside other portraits only for himself as well, except that sketch of a Bedouin era as well. But those are the only head studies he's completing in Egypt along with the study of the new Egyptian girl. He doesn't accept any commissions while he's over there. He's there really for that main purpose of studying and hopefully being sourcing material for the murals. And it seems like he was only doing these head studies while he's traveling down the Nile River and encountering the Felahin as well. Just as a quick follow up, how far down the Nile did he go? That's what I'm gonna hopefully find in some archives coming up too. I'm hoping to find photographs of him in Egypt. That would be incredible. Yeah. I just wanted to follow up. Yeah, of course. I don't know, right? So I'm very interested in this. And I love the recreation of the context which obviously Sargent is living in and he's experiencing Egypt within that context. However, however, I also see an artist working with head sketches which is something that artists did from time immemorial. And so can we really know? I mean, do you have evidence through, I don't know, his letters, his diaries of what his intentions are because he can be fascinated by the gradations in skin without any racial intentions in that. So of course he's shaped by his environment but I, you know, I'm sort of, I don't know. I don't know about that part of it. So can you convince me or are you exploring that or? Yeah, definitely. Sargent is such a perplexing artist too because he's extremely private and it destroys a lot of his letters right before his death and has family members. So he's a bit of ambiguous with his opinions on some of his own objects but it's definitely one I've been thinking of how he's working with patrons that are thinking of genetic inheritance theories that not necessarily the relation to the head studies that he's completing, but the Asters and Morgans and other Northeast writers that he's talking with them constantly about this type of white patrician anxiety where he might not be writing about in his journals but he's in this Northeast elite white milieu at the time and it's very much ingrained in these racial hierarchies of the gilded age. So that's what I'm still working through at the same time as well. But also thinking how he's experiencing Egypt and along with all these travelers through the lens of British imperialism that he can't be divorced from this British colonial environment ever where he's going down a steamer that's, I believe Thomas Cook and Sons that is a British led, tourist driven enterprise in Egypt again. So he's constantly experiencing Egypt through this colonialist lens. So what's so curious is in the murals that he presents a myth of Egypt and he doesn't really bring those head sketches except where you said there's maybe a suggestion but he doesn't, those seem private, those seem separate studies. Anyway, it's just a thought. Yeah, the only the ancient references appear in the final murals. What's interesting is that that's what the audience is gonna expect too and that's the only way they can understand Egypt in this public setting which is also a setting designed by McKimmy and White which has its own racial ties to this idea of an American renaissance and this white neoclassical identity. Thank you so much for these fascinating presentations. My question complements the previous two. I couldn't help but notice what the portrait of the Bedouin man especially the resonance with Fayoum mummy portraits and in thinking about this context in which we have mummy unwrapping parties. I think it's especially the body, the part of the body that's privileged, the presence, the direct eye contact at the viewer, the background being one color. I was curious to hear any of your insights as to this tension that seems to be evident between racialization and kind of stereotyping and categorizing groups within this notion of biological race kind of as that stands in tension with individuality, subjectivity, privileging of these facial features and physiognomies. And I think this to me was especially resonant when you brought in the example of the individual sunbathing which the emphasis seemed to be more on his body rather than his face. So any insights on that tension? I would greatly welcome. So that's a great question and thanks for bringing up the mummies. That's a different chapter too. I'm talking about mummy unwrapping and how even Sarge is depicting Isabel Stewart Gardner in one of her last watercolors in white wrappings that's very like mummified almost with the veils. But I think it's a great point about this tension between the individual that he's sometimes, how do you consider as a portrait when the individual is perhaps erased with the name and how that's in tension with mummies in the era being exported out of Egypt constantly into England or Western countries and often being erased in terms of their identity. They're often attributing names to mummies in this period of time as well and just starting to name them with Western names. I think it's the idea of erasure of individuality but it's a great point with the watercolor as well and how he's looking just at really the body too and you're almost looking down including the head study with the Florida watercolor and that this is still an unnamed figure from it's in a private collection I hope you find more information on but it's really just focused on those tan lines as well. And I think that's an interesting way of understanding mummified and Egyptian bodies how they're being broken up and compartmentalized as a type of erasure that's very much driven through the body. Thank you. Hi, thank you for really interesting talks. And again, I mean, one of the things I love about this symposium is that it can bring together separate but separate works that can sort of interwine with each other. I have two comments. The first is actually very specific in reference to Leah Stevenson. Really interesting paper on Sargent in Egyptomania and I think that it's interesting to think about this period as I believe one of an emergence of thinking about skin tone as a primary marker of racial difference which was like not the only way of thinking about racial differences. So his primary interest on skin tone in these portraits as being in reference to this era when skin tone is becoming very important. And then also thinking about that in terms of his work with Thomas McKellar, the model for Boston's Apollo that exhibition that recently highlighted that about how he was using a black man to pose for white figures. So that is a, my first sort of specific question in regards to how do you think that is sort of relates back to his use of a black model is sort of how that narrows down to the question. And then I have another question for Dr. Congratulations, Christina Lim Chafalopa. So sorry about, I was wondering about how silk as wallpaper could translate or in relation to silk as outfit material and whether there was any interaction between what these people were wearing with their surroundings. And then a final question that sort of ties us all together hard to comment, I guess. I'm so sorry for taking up this much time is how language plays into all of these interactions and how this translation of movement of both people and objects correlates and intertwines with having a translator not having a translator knowing the language yourself and how those interactions were, how that was a barrier for these movements. Thank you very much. Sorry, can I clarify that last question for all three of them? Yeah, yeah. Okay, so you can take turns. Let's go for it. I guess I can start with Thomas McKellar. He's been in my mind constantly with this project and the Fantastic Gardener exhibition that was recent highlighting him. And I think the idea of whitewashing, idea of erasure is very much at play with Sargent's Egypt studies. And as much as it would be fantastic to uncover the names of these models in Egypt, Egyptian archives, I think that's possibly not a possibility too. And I think that's a thought process. I'm still working of how do you still draw attention as a post-colonial approach to their presence? And there's been more work done on the history of Egyptology by acknowledging the presence of these Egyptian guides navigating the country for American tourists. I think that's where it's gonna come into play by looking at Egyptian dragomons who are navigating the Nile River on cruises with artists like Sargent and really interpreting the country through language. Okay, so for the first question about silk, you know, my research is really concerned with the outfitting of the interior of the palace. So I didn't really think about the outfitting of the people who were in the palace. But one thing I could say about that is that this is at a really early point in the history of Chimoiserie, especially for Central Europe. And so I think what Prince Eugene was doing helped to kind of set into motion some of those fashion trends that we might associate with a little bit, a later point in the 18th century, not just with silk, but also with chins, so beautiful, fabulous tresses. I saw that recently there was an exhibition in Ontario and they're looking at a lot of these fabrics. So I haven't thought so much about if Prince Eugene wore these objects, but that's certainly something that I might wanna think about. One thing that's difficult about doing that is that when he died, he had no will and pretty much his collection was dismantled, a lot of his documents were scattered. So that would be maybe something more difficult to figure out, but not impossible. And I thought that your question about language was interesting as well because when I'm reading the primary sources, there's really no differentiation between what they're calling Indian-ish, Japanese and Kenizish, so Indian, Japanese, Chinese. They're not differentiating between geographic locations and people. At this point, it's really just about something foreign. It's very superficial, I would say. And so in terms of language, I think it's interesting that it's kind of all just kind of grouped together and it's not until later that maybe some collectors start to be more interested in a Japanese porcelain versus a Chinese porcelain, but at this very early moment, I don't know if I'm not aware that those fissures are kind of there yet. It's still kind of a collective thing here. So regarding language, this is a crucial element to actually all of the chapters of my dissertation thus far. In that when France conquered Algiers, there was this, as I've noted, an immediate kind of realization among many of the Jewish communities where they realized that they could perhaps elevate themselves sociopolitically by identifying with the new colonial regime. But in that moment, too, the first kind of gesture put forward was specifically Jewish translators. For instance, very famously, the artist Eugène Delacroix, when he went to Morocco, even, which at this point was still independent in its own kingdom, and Algeria, he was staying in Jewish neighborhoods and specifically had a Jewish translator with the bourgeois company named Abraham Ben-Kamal. And this is a trend we see over and over again. And there are a number of reasons for that, which I don't want to belabor this too long, but even Emmanuel Meneham-Nohan, the man I mentioned in Oral, was also a translator for the French military. And these communities had transatlantic connections prior to French occupation, so they were familiar with Jewish merchants, but also there's an interesting phenomenon too, just prior to colonization, in that Jewish communities also used a kind of Judeo-Arabic language as a means of protecting community wreckers wherein they would use Hebrew letters to approximate the Arabic language. And so you have these coded documents, principally in these residential synagogues, and that kind of linguistic tactic also is one of the reasons for a kind of hostility among Muslim Jewish Algerians in that they believed it was kind of underhanded and a little sneaky and covert. So yeah, and also terminology is he also in terms of conflation, but also like the term neo-Marsh itself is a interesting conundrum in that it talks about the Moorish, which also referred to the Jews coming, that were expelled from Spain in 1492, which again, I don't want to take too long. So I'll just stop it there while I'm ahead. Maybe, and go there, but we can talk about it later. So I think we have time for one more question. There's a question from an online audience or in person, nothing online. We do have an online audience. We do have an online audience. I knew that, but I didn't know they could ask me. I'm an expert with this thing, so I can catch it now, just kidding. Thank you so much for your presentations. They're all fascinating. My question is for you, Olivia. I'm curious about the construction of the synagogue in France that heavily utilized neo-Morish aesthetics. Can you say anything about the congregation of that synagogue and whether they were maybe more Ashkenazi and I'm just curious if that aesthetic introduction to a new synagogue was at all jarring or confusing for those Jews, and were any of them like, what is it? That's my question. Yeah, that's a great question. So initially, the region synagogue, yes, the right there, was constructed for an Ashkenazi Jewish community in Paris. And in fact, after the initial synagogue that had been located on that road, it started falling apart in 1822. But James de Rothschild actually infused a lot of money into the rebuilding of this project without the permission of the French Consistory. And they didn't know about this. He wanted actually a Romanesque style synagogue, but when the Consistory found out about this, they were mad and they said, we don't want your money, we're gonna do our own thing. You didn't ask permission. And so when this, when Thierry was eventually selected, it was jarring, I haven't found too many contemporary records of Jewish congregants, but it was certainly jarring for many Gentile Parisians. And I'm thinking specifically to Julien Edmond de Goncourt's novel Manette Salomon, which is just a briefly a novel about an artist who falls in love with the Jewish model and it's an anti-Semitic novel in that he discovers that she's a little shady, underhanded and leads to the downfall of the artist because he's interacted with this Jewish woman. But there's an account in that novel where the artist is following this Jewish model and girlfriend down the road and goes specifically into this synagogue in the novel and this fictional tale. And the artist, this French artist, describes being transported to Alain de Luz or the Middle East and how he's no longer in Paris, but somewhere far elusive and oriental. And so it was jarring in that sense, but it was seen as fairly appropriate for Jews that they were now starting to reconsider as an oriental neighbor despite the fact that these Ashkenazi communities had been there for centuries. And of course now it serves Sephardic and Mizrahi Jewish communities, primarily the displaced Algerian Jews. I did this synagogue, so. Thank you very much, all three of you. And thank you to our audience for joining us. Just on behalf of all my colleagues at the Barnes, I just wanna wish you a good rest of your weekend and just to say we're so pleased again to be working with Penn and Brynmore and Temple, is that correct? See, Martha's not here, so I don't have it all down, to be hosting this again. And we're so pleased also to be back in person. So hope to be back in person with you all next year. Thank you.