This chapter presents a panoramic view of elements in the Linguistic Landscape (LL), using photographs from Ireland, North America, England, and continental Europe. The discussion focuses on the operation of language policies and language choices, the regulation of space in the landscape, discourse elements in graffiti and social protest, and the position of the LL in reflecting and commemorating history. The chapter argues that while language display is crucial to the LL, any written display of language also includes visual and spatial elements which are part of the LL. Some elements such as orthography, letter shape, and text colour, are close to the language system. Others include visual images, the physical medium and ground used for the message, and the size and placement of the message. The chapter takes an inclusive view of language, referring to a wide range of displays that involve lexical elements and copresent modes of expressing meaning. A focus on the LL as discourse shows that restricting the LL to written language is overly limited, and that oral tradition and discourse must also be taken into account.

This chapter examines the application of the principles underlying artistic freedom in the public space, as well as graffiti and street art. To which extent are States obliged to promote, protect or safeguard artistic freedom when clashing with public interests, public order or public morality standards? Does the qualification ‘illicit’ or ‘commissioned’ play a role in preserving artistic freedom? And do these obligations go as far as safeguarding the individual artist’s right to artistic freedom in case of unpopular, controversial or offensive art and performances in the public space – or urban planning considerations, as in the case of the ‘La Demeure du Chaos’ (Abode of Chaos)? Furthermore, the chapter discusses the question of hateful, racist, sexist, misogynous or homophobic art in the public space, epsecially in light of State obligations to raise awareness and eliminate stereotyping. Last, drawing on numerous case studies such as the Great Wall of Los Angeles and murals painted in post-aparheid South Africa, the chapter explores potential obligations to preserve and safeguard street art – and artists’ frededom – especially in the case of large murals reflective of broad community participation and those that reflect human rights ideals.

This chapter investigates a selected translation and reception history of Catullus 85 in English, with a focus on Brandon Brown’s embodied retranslation. The chapter argues that embodied, iterative, intersemiotic, and pedagogicial translation strategies create ruptures in the hegemonic approaches to translating Catullus 85 in particular and canonical ancient Classical texts in general. These ruptures invite readers to engage more critically with old texts in new and renewed ways.

The story of the final months of Caesar’s life has been dominated by the question whether he wanted to be "king." That is to focus the question in a way that privileges the perspective of his assassins. Caesar himself was preoccupied at this time with massive preparations for a war of vengeance against the Parthians on a truly extraordinary scale. The knock-on effects of the mobilization effort were themselves extremely disruptive, causing an explosive intensification of the political game at a time when the Dictator was about to absent himself from the capital for several years. He had gravely alienated the urban plebs, encouraging the conspirators’ expectations (falsified in the event) that they would have popular support. The Caesarian coalition was coming apart, as shown by the remarkable clash between Mark Antony and Dolabella on the eve of Caesar’s scheduled departure. Caesar made little to no effort to create a new political system out of the ruins of civil war during the short period that he spent in Rome before his intended departure on an expedition that would keep him abroad for several years, much less to oversee a transition to a whole new kind of politics.

This chapter investigates the interplay of textual and non-textual features in the marking systems of three types of clay products widely used in Roman Italy during the first three centuries CE ‒ fine tableware (sigillata), shipping containers (amphorae), and bricks and tiles. The semiotic flexibility of the footprint as a polyvalent sign indicating both authorship and identity is illustrated by its use as a stamp on Roman tableware. The marks employed on amphorae to identify different phases of the manufacture, transport, and distribution of the vessels or their contents reveal a well-defined taxonomy of textual and atextual signs differentiated according to medium, placement, and stage of application. Brickstamps on larger bricks at Rome combined texts with semantically distinctive figured symbols (signa) in complex messages that identified brickyard owner, manufacturer, and origin; smaller bricks, when marked, bore distinctive patterns of atextual designs created by matrix. Atextual marking systems operated both together with and independently of textual markers, offering different advantages of utility (visual comprehensibility without need of literacy) and facility (being easily constructed out of everyday objects) in return for less semantic precision and differential range.

Ancient markets and trading activity in the city of Athens are attested not only through literary sources describing where to buy certain goods and what happens when deals fall through, but also through the archaeology of market buildings, the equipment of buying and selling, and the containers for transporting and storing wine, oil, and other commodities.

This chapter gives an overview of all sources written in Anatolian hieroglyphs, that is, seals and inscriptions. Whereas cuneiform was the strictly internal means of communication within the kingdom, the hieroglyphs were used whenever the population at large was addressed. Given the sociolinguistic situation hieroglyphic inscriptions were written in Luwian, not in Hittite.

It is getting increasingly difficult to avoid the notion that justice claims are not limited to the formal venues of law or even the public accountability processes of journalism, but are also expressed in everyday activities of public outreach. We can see this outreach in informal efforts toward mass communication, in graffiti and Internet communication (and connections between the two, as we will see) oriented toward passers-by and browsers, consumers of information, the possible-to-convince sympathizers of the plights of others. This non-professional realm of justice claims tells us something about the extent to which justice is experienced and expressed outside the law, but at the same time through the influence of law. Human rights in particular can be seen as a source of inspiration and expression of new and emerging forms of rights-consciousness and the public expression of grievance.

In January 2018, Jason REVOK William’s lawyer sent to H&M, the Swedish clothing company, a cease-and-desist letter. 1 By writing to the brand’s representatives, the lawyer was lamenting the unauthorized use of one of REVOK’s iconic pieces in H&M’s recent ad-campaign. In the photoshoot, a graffiti that REVOK illegally painted on a wall of a handball court in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, appeared as a backdrop. The LA based artist requested H&M to stop sharing the photoshoot on social media and demanded compensation. H&M rejected REVOK’s requests and refused to settle. In a surprising turn of event, the company filed a lawsuit against the artist claiming that the illegal nature of his work excludes it from copyright protection. 2 After public backlash, H&M withdrew the lawsuit and settled the dispute out of court.

Germany has a vivid and thriving street art and graffiti scene. 1 Its beginnings can be traced back to the late 1970ies, early 1980ies when hip hop culture became increasingly popular throughout Europe. 2 The Bavarian capital Munich can be seen as the cradle of graffiti and street art in Germany3 though all large cities, such as Frankfurt, Cologne Stuttgart and Leipzig, are all hubs for street art and host interesting art works and active crews. Berlin, of course, has to be mentioned in this context as Germany’s prime location for street art and graffiti attracting many visitors from around the globe. 4 But also, from a copyright perspective which of course is the focus of this chapter, Berlin’s esteem is also unrivalled to other German cities. Many cases which discuss the copyright aspects of street art relate to the city’s most famous canvas: The Berlin Wall.

The airing of the documentary Style Wars on public television in 1984 was a seminal moment in the adoption of hip-hop style art by urban youth in Aotearoa New Zealand, particularly young M?ori and Pasifika men in Auckland and Wellington. Today, non-commissioned art is not the preserve of a specific ethnic or cultural group, indeed, a research paper written for the Ministry of Justice found “little evidence to suggest that graffiti writers are a distinct subgroup among young people”. Askew One (Elliot O’Donnell) is probably the best-known Auckland street artist. The works of BMD, the most prominent Wellington street artists, adorn many of the capital’s walls. Other often-encountered pseudonyms include “Component, Eeks, Ghstie and Yelz”. Kerryn Pollock observes: “Street art is male-dominated, but some women have gained recognition for their work, including Diva, Misery (Tanja Thompson), Flox (Hayley King), Erin Forsyth, Xoe Hall and Mica Still.” Yarn bombing is also common, notably in Wellington, and, because it is perceived as feminine and non-threatening, widely accepted across generations.