Conservation and sustainable use of wild species as sources of new ornamentals

While only about 1-200 species are used intensively in commercial floriculture (e.g. carnations, chrysanthemums, gerbera, narcissus, orchids, tulips, lilies, roses, pansies and violas, saintpaulias, etc.) and 4-500 as house plants, several thousand species of herbs, shrubs and trees are traded commercially by nurseries and garden centres as ornamentals or amenity species. Most of these have been introduced from the wild with little selection or breeding. In Europe alone, 12 000 species are found in cultivation in general garden collections (i.e. excluding specialist collections and botanic gardens). In addition, specialist collections (often very large) of many other species and/or cultivars of groups such as orchids, bromeliads, cacti and succulents, primulas, rhododendrons, conifers and cycads are maintained in several centres such as botanic gardens and specialist nurseries, as are 'national collections' of cultivated species and cultivars in some countries. Specialist growers, both professional and amateur, also maintain collections of plants for cultivation, including, increasingly, native plants. The trade in ornamental and amenity horticulture cannot be fully estimated but runs into many billions of dollars annually and there is considerable potential for further development and the introduction of many new species into the trade. Despite this, most of the collections are ad hoc and no co-ordinated efforts have been made to ensure that adequate germplasm samples of these species are maintained for conservation purposes and few of them are represented at all adequately in seed banks. Few countries have paid much attention to germplasm needs of ornamentals and the Ornamental Plant Germplasm Center in conjunction with the USDA National Plant Germplasm System at The Ohio State University is an exception. Generally there is a serious gap in national and international germplasm strategies, which have tended to focus primarily on food plants and some forage and industrial crops. Adequate arrangements need to be put in place to ensure the long- and medium-term conservation of representative samples of the genetic diversity of ornamental species. The problems of achieving this will be discussed. In addition, a policy for the conservation of old cultivars or 'heritage' varieties of ornamentals needs to be formulated. The considerable potential for introduction of new ornamental species needs to be assessed. Consideration needs to be given to setting up a co-ordinating structure with overall responsibility for the conservation of germplasm of ornamental and amenity plants.

The politics of slowness and the traps of modernity

This chapter re-evaluates the diachronic, evolutionist model that establishes the Second World War as a watershed between classical and modern cinemas, and ‘modernity’ as the political project of ‘slow cinema’. I will start by historicising the connection between cinematic speed and modernity, going on to survey the veritable obsession with the modern that continues to beset film studies despite the vagueness and contradictions inherent in the term. I will then attempt to clarify what is really at stake within the modern-classical debate by analysing two canonical examples of Japanese cinema, drawn from the geidomono genre (films on the lives of theatre actors), Kenji Mizoguchi’s Story of the Late Chrysanthemums (Zangiku monogatari, 1939) and Yasujiro Ozu’s Floating Weeds (Ukigusa, 1954), with a view to investigating the role of the long take or, conversely, classical editing, in the production or otherwise of a supposed ‘slow modernity’. By resorting to Ozu and Mizoguchi, I hope to demonstrate that the best narrative films in the world have always combined a ‘classical’ quest for perfection with the ‘modern’ doubt of its existence, hence the futility of classifying cinema in general according to an evolutionary and Eurocentric model based on the classical-modern binary. Rather than on a confusing politics of the modern, I will draw on Bazin’s prophetic insight of ‘impure cinema’, a concept he forged in defence of literary and theatrical screen adaptations. Anticipating by more than half a century the media convergence on which the near totality of our audiovisual experience is currently based, ‘impure cinema’ will give me the opportunity to focus on the confluence of film and theatre in these Mizoguchi and Ozu films as the site of a productive crisis where established genres dissolve into self-reflexive stasis, ambiguity of expression and the revelation of the reality of the film medium, all of which, I argue, are more reliable indicators of a film’s political programme than historical teleology. At the end of the journey, some answers may emerge to whether the combination of the long take and the long shot are sufficient to account for a film’s ‘slowness’ and whether ‘slow’ is indeed the best concept to signify resistance to the destructive pace of capitalism.

Non-cinema: the location of politics in film

Philosophy has repeatedly denied cinema in order to grant it artistic status. Adorno, for example, defined an ‘uncinematic’ element in the negation of movement in modern cinema, ‘which constitutes its artistic character’. Similarly, Lyotard defended an ‘acinema’, which rather than selecting and excluding movements through editing, accepts what is ‘fortuitous, dirty, confused, unclear, poorly framed, overexposed’. In his Handbook of Inaesthetics, Badiou embraces a similar idea, by describing cinema as an ‘impure circulation’ that incorporates the other arts. Resonating with Bazin and his defence of ‘impure cinema’, that is, of cinema’s interbreeding with other arts, Badiou seems to agree with him also in identifying the uncinematic as the location of the Real. This article will investigate the particular impurities of cinema that drive it beyond the specificities of the medium and into the realm of the other arts and the reality of life itself. Privileged examples will be drawn from various moments in film history and geography, starting with the analysis of two films by Jafar Panahi: This Is Not a Film (In film nist, 2011), whose anti-cinema stance in announced in its own title; and The Mirror (Aineh, 1997), another relentless exercise in self-negation. It goes on to examine Kenji Mizoguchi’s deconstruction of cinematic acting in his exploration of the geidomono genre (films about theatre actors) in The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums (Zangigku monogatari, 1939), and culminates in the conjuring of the physical experience of death through the systematic demolition of film genres in The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer et al., 2012).