Where Can Objects Take You? The Case of the World War II Japanese Airman\u27s Suit

“Dad always said that ‘It’s made out of Australian wool,’ and I thought that was just a joke because you couldn’t see how the Japanese would get hold of Australian wool during the war…. But it is a fine material…. They weren’t scrapping for something to wear.” —Wally Lanagan In December 1942, the Yokosuka Military Department manufactured, surely among hundreds of others, a flying suit, which may or may not have ever been worn by a Japanese pilot. It did, however, end up on display at the Pioneer Park Museum in Dalby, a small town in rural Queensland, Australia. It was lent to the museum in the early 2000s by the nephew of the Australian soldier who brought it home as a souvenir at the end of World War II. There it rested, until the authors noticed it in May 2019. Through the dusty glass of the display the suit had an odd sheen—was it wool? cotton? A blend? An inquiry to the caretaker led to unlocking the case, and the discovery that the fabric was indeed a blend—but of rayon and wool. Another inquiry led to the lender, and the intriguing story of its arrival in Dalby and its place in a complex family history. And to the quotation at the top of this page…. And thence to the National Archives of Australia, to search the records of the textile trade between Australia and Japan in the years between the two world wars. This paper highlights a digital media interactive that melds a 3-D scan of the suit with relevant documents, images, and text. It explores how this one garment embodies both decades of international bickering over resources, natural and man-made, and a transitional moment in the fabrics of war

Feasibilty study of elemental recovery from Oklahoma produced waters using advanced membrane technologies

Hundreds of millions of barrels of wastewater are produced by the oil and natural gas industry every year. The disposal practices associated with these produced waters (PW) are unsustainable and linked to lowered standards of living in the communities impacted by them. Alternative treatment technologies are typically expensive and inefficient, but membrane distillation (MD) has the unique ability to operate with low-grade heat energy inputs and treat highly saline water to reusable levels with less breakthrough and fouling relative to traditional membrane technologies. A model was developed to predict MD flux values and optimize a system for maximized operational and economical benefit. A bench-scale system demonstrated flux while maintaining low conductivity measurements in the permeate tank, when operating with high-salinity PW solutions. Hydrocarbons and valuable elements solubilized in the PW could potentially provide revenue to offset MD costs. ICP analysis was used to characterize the PW, as well as to analyze the sorbent capacities of silica nanoparticles. Successful uptake by the nanoparticles of high value elements could allow for elemental recovery and reuse. Successful application of a silica-modified membrane relies of the silicas’ ability to remain attached to the membrane surface but attempts at quantifying silica loss were indeterminate. ICP instrumentation and sample digestion solutions were analyzed to eliminate error associated with the data collection technique. Experimental results suggest MD has the potential to be successfully implemented on an industrial scale for the treatment of PW. Sorption data shows successful removal of heavier elements, some of which were found in PW samples. Developing a system composed of a silica-modified inorganic pre-treatment membrane – to remove oil and salts – and a MD system for further water purification could be an economically feasible treatment system capable of decreasing disposable waste and generating reusable water.For additional information on referenced technologies and data sets, please refer to Section 1.1 Overview of OCAST Project, for list of project collaborators

Effect of Imagined Support on Perceptions of Stress

Social support is known to help buffer the effects of stress (Uchino et al., 1996). However, in many situations social support is unavailable, and imagining social support may help to reduce the impact of stress. Although imagined physical touch has been shown to be an effective stress buffer, little research has compared it to other types of imagined support (Feldman et al., 2010). Additionally, women tend to seek emotional support, whereas men tend to seek tangible support, but it is unknown if imagining those types of support will reduce stress (Reevy & Maslach, 2001). To gain greater insight into these processes, the purpose of this project was to identify whether imagining supportive touch, emotional social support, or giving emotional support is best at moderating stress during an impromptu speech task that was conducted over zoom. Participants completed initial measures of perceived stress, personality, and social support. Next, they indicated their stress levels after the manipulated social support condition and the stress task. Initial results showed that changes in perceived stress did not significantly vary by support condition. However, the control condition had the highest increase in stress during the speech task. Future research is needed to determine whether imagining social support can be effective in helping people cope with stressful situations

Produced water: Rare-earth element recovery and clean water production

The team is to research, evaluate, and design an energy efficient treatment system to produce clean water while optimizing the collection of rare earth elements from produced water recovered from oil and gas operations. From the produced water, your process should achieve high recovery of the rare earth elements (minimum 70%) and deliver clean water that meets drinking water standards (500 mg/L) concentration of total dissolved solids). The goals of the designed system are to develop a treatment system that is practical, cost effective, and able to accommodate flow rates of 2000 gallons per day in the full-scale model

American Silk from a Marketing Magician: H.R. Mallinson & Co.

Hiram Royal Mallinson, an ambitious and talented son of mid-nineteenth-century immigrants from Poland, entered the silk trade in 1893 as a salesman for the company of Pelgram & Meyer in Paterson, New Jersey. Just two years later Mallinson joined a new firm, Newwitter & Migel, headquartered in New York City, as head of sales. In 1900, Migel and Mallinson bought out Newwitter and renamed the firm M.C. Migel & Co. Migel and Mallinson consciously targeted the novelty market and the high-end or “class” customer generally conceded to European concerns at the time. The company was regarded as progressive, its output of excellent quality and a credit to the American industry. Migel retired from active participation in the firm in 1903, leaving Mallinson in charge—a position he maintained until 1931. His company’s long-term success within a turbulent industry was founded on a solid reputation for quality silks and, perhaps more importantly, on marketing practices not yet common in his day: buying or generating the right publicity, cultivating all potential consumers, and anticipating— even creating—consumer demand for novelty. Until 1913, M.C. Migel & Co. concentrated primarily on woven textures and jacquardwoven designs. In the years between 1900 and 1913, the firm offered many innovative fabrics, such as “Waterette” waterproof taffeta, “Motora” pongee for the emerging motorist market, and “Madame Butterfly” marquisette. All competed against the luxury imports from Europe and the few other high-end American products. The company’s printed silks kept to prevailing Paris fashions, usually in simple color combinations that suited the relative lack of skill within the American silk-printing industry at this time. In November 1912, Migel sold his interest in the company to Mallinson. In early 1914, Mallinson stepped up his campaign against European competitors, introducing the Mexixe line of printed silks. [fig.1] This series took advantage of Mexico’s prominence in the news due to the American war against Pancho Villa. The designs were based on Aztec, Mexican, and American Indian art, and although they were certainly influenced by European aesthetics, the underlying theme was an American original, not a variation on a French idea. The printing, in multiple colors on saturated grounds, challenged European supremacy in that art. The fabrics were used by several Paris couturiers, endorsing this upstart American attempt at original design. It was a stunning critical and sales success for the company and a notable first for the American industry. In its wake, Mallinson changed the company’s name to his own in January 1915

Textiles and the Body: The Geometry of Clothing

Physics and mathematics are not usually perceived as being closely connected with textile and clothing design or construction, either by scientists or by artists. Those who make clothing from cloth, however, must always take into account two geometries: the plane geometry of the cloth and the solid geometry of the body. In order to clothe the body we begin with cloth. Woven, knitted, knotted, or otherwise constructed, the inherent structure of cloth reflects mathematical principles. Interlaced threads create square or triangular grids, techniques such as knitting or crocheting can make grids of any shape, from triangular to polyhedral. Those who make clothing transform flat fabric planes into three-dimensional forms through a variety of means. A single plane figure—such as a square, rectangle, or circle—can be used to create a garment without cutting or tailoring. Simple modifications are all that is required to fit a length of cloth around the body. The sari and the kilt, for example, use pleating, gathering, tucking, and tying to make the flat plane follow the contours of the three-dimensional body form. Cut and sewn clothing can also follow those principles. A single plane figure can become a garment through the medium of a single seam, as in the tubular sarong. Some designers have utilized these simple forms to great effect. Claire McCardell made an evening gown whose skirt is simply two rectangles seamed together, at the sides, and along the top edge for about one third of the way from each edge. The open portion is then gathered to the waistband, and the points are left to hang and drape in ripples at the side seams. Halston plated with the time-honored sarong effect in some of his designs, wrapping and tying a tube of supple silk charmeuse over the bust to create another striking evening dress. More interesting in terms of construction is the caftan he created by origami-like folding of a narrow textile length into an almost square robe, which still exploits the drape of the bias to mold the body

American Silk from a Marketing Magician: \u3cb\u3eH.R. Mallinson & Co.\u3c/b\u3e

Hiram Royal Mallinson, an ambitious and talented son of mid-nineteenth-century immigrants from Poland, entered the silk trade in 1893 as a salesman for the company of Pelgram & Meyer in Paterson, New Jersey. Just two years later Mallinson joined a new firm, Newwitter & Migel. headquartered in New York City, as head of sales. In 1900, Migel and Mallinson bought out Newwitter and renamed the firm M.C. Migel & Co. Migel and Mallinson consciously targeted the novelty market and the high-end or class customer generally conceded to European concerns at the time. The company was regarded as progressive, its output of excellent quality and a credit to the American industry. Migel retired from active participation in the firm in 1903, leaving Mallinson in charge—a position he maintained until 1931. His company\u27s long-term success within a turbulent industry was founded on a solid reputation for quality silks and, perhaps more importantly, on marketing practices not yet common in his day: buying or generating the right publicity, cultivating all potential consumers, and anticipating— even creating—consumer demand for novelty. Until 1913, M.C. Migel & Co. concentrated primarily on woven textures and jacquardwoven designs. In the years between 1900 and 1913, the firm offered many innovative fabrics, such as Waterette waterproof taffeta, Motora pongee for the emerging motorist market, and \u27 Madame Butterfly marquisette. All competed against the luxury imports from Europe and the few other high-end American products. The company\u27s printed silks kept to prevailing Paris fashions, usually in simple color combinations that suited the relative lack of skill within the American silk-printing industry at this time. In November 1912, Migel sold his interest in the company to Mallinson. In early 1914, Mallinson stepped up his campaign against European competitors, introducing the Mexixe line of printed silks, [fig. 1] This series took advantage of Mexico\u27s prominence in the news due to the American war against Pancho Villa. The designs were based on Aztec, Mexican, and American Indian art, and although they were certainly influenced by European aesthetics, the underlying theme was an American original, not a variation on a French idea. The printing, in multiple colors on saturated grounds, challenged European supremacy in that art. The fabrics were used by several Paris couturiers, endorsing this upstart American attempt at original design. It was a stunning critical and sales success for the company and a notable first for the American industry. In its wake, Mallinson changed the company\u27s name to his own in January 1915

The Fabric of War: Wool and Local Land Wars in a Global Context

During the nineteenth century, exponential growth in sheep pastoralism in Australia and New Zealand, and in less predictable locales such as the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii) and Rapanui (Easter Island), fueled the alienation of Indigenous peoples from their lands. The sheep and their wool, at the heart of these ‘grass wars,’ fed a global industry that supported another kind of war – the mass, cold climate warfare characterizing the century between the Crimean and Korean wars. Not until the second quarter of the nineteenth century did mechanization and factory organization affect wool production, as assiduous Australasian sheep husbandry bred wool staples long and strong enough to bear the stresses of industrial modes of textile production. This led to British imperial leadership in wool production, in its colonial territories (Australia, New Zealand, South Africa), and in locations such as Rapanui, not British by nationality but driven by British capital. So important and lucrative was the market for wool that the British-Chilean company, Williamson Balfour, which ran Rapanui as a sheep station from 1897-1953, allowed the sheep the run of the island while forcing the islanders to live in fenced compounds. Meanwhile, the important producers of woolen textiles—the U.S., U.K., Germany, France, and eventually Japan—could not rely on domestic fleece to fill their manufacturing needs, and imported heavily from British-controlled wool markets, particularly in wartime. New Zealand and Sandwich Islands wool, for example, helped clothe the Union Army during the American Civil War. This paper, part of a larger project exploring the relationship between wool and war, examines how, in the industrial age, the “deep local” effects of taking land from indigenous populations and turning it over to sheep pastoralism both encouraged and was encouraged by the “pan-global” trade in wool that resulted

“The Consular Collections at the National Museum of American History” Opening Plenary Session: Crosscurrents: the Transnational Flows of Textiles

Hidden away for decades within the Department of Textiles, Division of Home & Community Life, National Museum of American History, was an extraordinary group of nearly 1000 textile samples collected by US consuls around the world between about 1898 and about 1920. The Commerce Department transferred them to the U.S. National Museum (now NMAH), in the 1920s. The samples range in size from just a few inches square to a few feet. The information that came into the collection with each sample, from lists or scraps of paper attached by the consuls, was typed onto onionskin typing paper or cardstock and attached to the samples. These amazing bits of information open many research avenues into the theme of the 2016 Textile Society of America symposium: Land, Labor, and the Port. By examining the questions that arise from just a few examples from the Consular Collections, this paper explores the tangled threads of the global textile trade in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and suggests some of the many research possibilities these textiles offer to scholars. I discovered the collection within a few days of beginning work as a curator at NMAH. One portion of the consular samples is housed in a filing cabinet filled with manila envelopes containing textiles of varying sizes and 8” x 10” cards with textile samples and ancient photostats stapled to them. Tantalizing labels on the file separators: Made or found in Egypt; Made or Found in Germany; Made or found in China; Made or found in Africa.1 An envelope pulled at random from the Africa section, revealed a bolt end or wrapper of unbleached plain weave cotton, with the notation on the envelope, “From a market in Abyssinia, 1904.” The muslin was stamped in blue ink with the image of a camel. Another piece of information in blue ink – a company name: Pelzer Mfg. Co, Pelzer, S.C. And finally, a paper label also bearing the Pelzer name. [Figure 1] Now what, I wondered, was a South Carolina cotton mill doing with a camel trademark and a market in East Africa at the turn of the 20th century? My own research into Southern American cotton mills had been confined more or less to events and businesses before the Centennial and the end of Reconstruction in 1876. A quick online search turned up some basic information on the firm, and images from the Library of Congress’s Prints and Photographs Division. Pelzer had been established in the early 1880s, by a small group of South Carolinians. The mill was a manifestation of the post-Reconstruction South’s efforts to move the production of cotton cloth closer to the source of the raw material, and derive profit from the cotton industry, not just cotton agriculture. It was considered a show mill by many for its up to date equipment and technology. Its mill workers inhabited an extraordinarily paternalistic mill town.2 The photos were by Lewis Hine, dating to 1912, documenting child labor in the Pelzer Mill. South Carolina’s first child labor law went into effect in 1903, theoretically preventing children under the age of 12, unless they were orphans or supporting a single parent, from working in the mills, but in practice this restriction was often circumvented, in a number of ingenious ways.3 More detailed information, however, would require deeper digging