This chapter frames the collaboration between Gertrude Stein and Pablo Picasso in the making of the 1906 portrait of Stein as a struggle over the modernist representation of the face. Having started the portrait with the sitter in front of him, Picasso famously erased Stein’s likeness and subsequently replaced it with a mask. Stein self-styled herself as an author and celebrity using Picasso’s portrait as a prop – as if it were a photograph. In turn, Stein’s literary portraits of Picasso attest to a desire for a radical erasure of the face, from memory and representation alike. The face nonetheless returns in the invocation of the proper name Picasso and through the intermedial dimensions of Stein’s portraiture writing. The chapter concludes by revisiting Nella Larsen’s use of the mask, specifically as the mask of whiteness, in her novel Passing (1929), a re-writing of Stein and Picasso’s experimentation with the racial dynamics of the mask.

‘Truth’ refers to reality – what is, was, will be, and should be – and its aspects, in the context of representations thereof. A true something is the real thing, and a true proposition, belief, hypothesis, exemplar, and so forth is a successful representation of truth in the first sense. The virtue of truthfulness is the judicious love of truth in both senses. From love of reality and correct representations of it, the truthful person tends to tell others the truth as she sees it, but is not fanatical about telling it, because virtues like justice, compassion, and gentleness, which themselves are a kind of truth, can enjoin the withholding or even distortion of truths. Truths can be horrible, and it can take courage and humility to admit them.

Private law theory is pulled in opposite directions: internal and external perspectives on law; holistic and reductionist methodologies; conceptualist and nominalist views; and deontological and consequentialist approaches. Relatedly, theories tend to focus on the micro or the macro scales – interpersonal relations or societal effects – but face difficulties in connecting them. In this paper, we examine these problems in private law theory through the lens of the legal phenomenology of Adolf Reinach. According to Reinach, the law presupposes a realm of real, timeless entitles and their workings that are synthetic a priori: they are neither conventional nor contingent. Nor are they inherently moral or customary. We argue that regardless of the ontological status of what Reinach identifies as a priori, it points toward something more robust than most current theories would countenance. We illustrate the usefulness of this perspective through Reinach’s analysis of property, transfer, and representation. Reinach captures features and generalizations that have eluded analysis, as, for example, when he treats the principle of nemo dat quod non habet (‘one cannot transfer what one does not own’) as underlying all transfer even if displaced by positive rules such as good faith purchase. His views also point toward the importance of accessibility for legal concepts, including cases of tacit knowledge. Whatever its exact source, this “deep structure” of the law has the potential to partially reconcile some of the fissures in private law theory and to connect the micro and the macro through a better understanding of system in law.

In this chapter, I take the theoretical predictions developed earlier to a near-global dataset using techniques of statistical inference. The analyses relate variation in country-year bureaucratic selection to two genres of outcomes: (1) a measure of representational inequality and (2) the incidence of internal conflict. I establish two core findings in this chapter. First, I show that countries in which civil servants are recruited more meritocratically are also those with higher measures of bureaucratic between-group inequality. Second, looking at the incidence of internal conflict in a given country-year observation, in a sample of post-colonial countries over the period 1941–2021, I find that internal conflict is more likely in countries that recruit civil servants meritocratically.

This chapter will provide a foundation for the provision of quality visual arts educational experiences in early childhood and the primary years. Practical suggestions for planning a high-quality visual arts program are linked to recent theory in a way that helps you construct your own visual arts program. Visual arts concepts, language, elements and principles will be defined and explained, with examples of the progression in visual arts education from early childhood through the primary years. Practicalities such as classroom management, safety and materials are addressed and additional interactive material can be found through the icons.

This chapter discusses the evolution of pagan iconography in Late Antiquity, examining how depictions of traditional gods and rituals changed between 300 and 700 CE. It challenges earlier interpretations that associate this period with artistic decline, instead emphasising continuity and transformation in the representation of pagan themes across various media. Drawing on legal, literary, epigraphic and archaeological evidence, the chapter provides a comprehensive perspective on the artistic and religious landscape of the period. It discusses key examples such as the Arch of Constantine, which repurposed older sacrificial motifs, and later fourth-century artworks like the Symmachi ivory diptych, which continued to depict pagan sacrifices despite the growing influence of Christianity. The chapter also examines the selective destruction of pagan imagery, particularly the mutilated reliefs from the Aphrodisias Sebasteion, demonstrating how sacrificial depictions were specifically targeted. The chapter concludes by noting that while sacrificial iconography faded, other pagan motifs – especially those associated with gods like Dionysus and Venus – remained prevalent in mosaics, silverware and textiles. This enduring presence underscores the adaptability of pagan imagery, which continued to influence artistic traditions long after the fall of the Roman Empire.

This chapter explores how international law and its legitimacy could be improved and made more aligned with the demands of justice. It focuses on two types of requirements. First, there are the principles and accompanying procedures on the basis of which actors ask their agency (and their rights) to be recognized by international law and its culture of legitimacy. These principles are consent, justification, accountability, consistency, representation and participation, and non-abuse of power. Second, there are the topics around which this quest for the recognition of agency (and rights) takes place. They are better universality of international law, human rights as a benchmark of the legitimacy of sovereignty, compliance/enforcement/accountability, and human rights supported by public goods. These two kinds of requirements have been at the center of the efforts to make international law more inclusive as well as more legitimate, and they need to be taken more seriously in the future.

In the summer of 1943, African-American organizations stepped up pressure on the general staff to send black troops into combat. Attention was focused on the 93rd Infantry Division, which was finalizing its training. Sending it to the front was seen by black militants as a test of the army’s promise. At the end of the summer, Huachuca’s all-black training experience was publicized in the press by a major photo essay published by Life magazine. The 450 photos taken by Charles Steinheimer provide an insight into race relations at the camp and, on comparing censored and uncensored photos, give an idea of what the army was prepared to reveal about its race policy and practices. The photo essay played a decisive role in the decision to send the 93rd to Papua New Guinea.

Chapter 2 delves into the constitution of humanity as a collective subject. Drawing on the debate between ICL scholars about the we-talk in relation to the ICC and their engagement with the work of Durkheim, I develop the thesis that humanity should be understood as a collective subject that is brought about as a symbolic order through a process of representation. Moreover, as with any order, the order of humanity emerges through a process of self-inclusion of a first-person plural. Finally, I turn to the case of Ongwen to show how this order is questioned by the inhuman.

Few historical events have been more often depicted in film than the Holocaust. This started in the 1940s and continues to the present day. Many of the representational challenges and conundrums found in other arts are present in film as well, though if anything in more acute form. Film is arguably the most mimetic of all the arts, which makes the risk of prurience, voyeurism, or sadistic (or masochistic) pleasure in watching artificial depictions of the suffering of others all the graver. This chapter situates the history of Holocaust films between the poles of melodramatic realism embodied in the American television miniseries Holocaust and the epic documentary film Shoah. These represent conventional realism, on the one hand, and a rigorous and austere refusal to represent the past at except through images of the present, on the other. As the chapter shows, a myriad of other films situate themselves either at one pole or the other, or between the two.

Virtually all countries affected by the Holocaust, and many of those only indirectly implicated, have made efforts to commemorate and memorialize the murder of European Jewry. This encompasses not only physical monuments, but also alternate approaches such as Memorial Books, rituals, liturgy, and memorial days. Many of these started as grassroots initiatives, only to be turned into state-sponsored events. Looking across the postwar decades and comparing memorials from Germany and the USA, this chapter analyzes the complex interplay between artistic choices, educational missions, and political agendas that shaped memorials and their representational strategies and spaces.

The question concerning the adequacy of mimetic representation raised by the Holocaust, of how to best convey the vast suffering, the enormity of extermination, the tragedy of loss, has profoundly shaped the history of the visual arts since 1945. Focusing mainly on painting and sculpture, this chapter argues that Holocaust art largely rejected the turn to abstraction otherwise so characteristic of postwar modernism, in favor of an ongoing engagement with figurative representation. For many artists, this was a way to retain the human dimension of the Holocaust. The shared an underlying ethical and aesthetic commitment to the human figure with its myriad complexities and configurations. At the same time, they sought to avoid falling into the trap of kitsch and sentimentality. This created ineluctable aesthetic dilemmas – to combine beauty and terror – that led to a series of heterogeneous responses, not a “school of art,” but a struggle with aesthetics in the face of catastrophe.