Traceless takes inspiration from the Lake District, the Gerry Charnley Round and Gerry Charnley himself. Charnley is little remembered, but was a prolific fell runner, orienteer and climber who founded the Karrimor International Mountain Marathon (KIMM), now the OMM. In his early 50s he tragically died on Helvellyn, his namesake Round was established in his memory by his friends. The ethos of the Round is on self-sufficiency and leaving no trace - the runner is encouraged to plan their own route to visit all the checkpoints, then navigate that route, creating their own line from multiple route choices. Inspired by the concept of the Gerry Charnley Round and its journey over the Lakeland fells, runners Geoff Cox and Heather Dawe have each spent time exploring and running the route. They are poets, writers and artists as well as fell runners and Traceless is a collaboration between them that celebrates their love for the fells and how spending time in them inspires them creatively.

Social change does not simply result from resistance to the existing set of conditions but from adapting and transforming the technical apparatus itself. Walter Benjamin in his essay "The Author as Producer" (written in 1934) recommends that the `cultural producer' intervene in the production process, in order to transform the apparatus in the manner of an engineer.This collection of essays and examples of contemporary cultural practices (the second in the DATA browser series) asks if this general line of thinking retains relevance for cultural production at this point in time - when activities of production, consumption and circulation operate through complex global networks served by information technologies. In the 1930s, under particular conditions and against the backdrop of fascism, a certain political optimism made social change seem more possible. Can this optimism be maintained when technology operates in the service of capital in ever more insidious ways?

Great mix of contributors including Esther Leslie Cutting-edge critical theory - includes an analysis of the film 'The Yes Men' Explores how & why new technologies - like the internet - have changed the relationship between mass culture and high art Focuses on the economics of cultural production - the power relation between producers and consumers The interaction between culture and economy was famously explored by Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer. They coined the term 'Kulturindustrie' (The Culture Industry) to describe the production of mass culture and power relations between capitalist producers and mass consumers. Their account is a bleak one, but one that continues to be relevant, despite being written in 1944. Today, the pervasiveness of network technologies has contributed to the further erosion of the rigid boundaries between high art, mass culture and the economy, resulting in new kinds of cultural production charged with contradictions. On the one hand, the culture industry appears to allow for resistant strategies using digital technologies, but on the other it operates in the service of capital in ever more complex ways. critical texts that explore issues at the intersection of culture and technology. The editorial group are Geoff Cox, Joasia Krysa, Anya Lewin, Malcolm Miles, Mike Punt & Hugo de Rijke.

'Today we are facing extreme and most dangerous developments in the thought of security. In the course of a gradual neutralisation of politics and the progressive surrender of traditional tasks of the state, security imposes itself as the basic principle of state activity. What used to be one among several decisive measures of public administration until the first half of the twentieth century, now becomes the sole criterion of political legitimation. The thought of security entails an essential risk. A state which has security as its sole task and source of legitimacy is a fragile organism; it can always be provoked by terrorism to become itself terrorist.'Following the words of Giorgio Agamben (from his 2001 article 'On Security and Terror'), security has become the basic principle of international politics after 9/11, and the 'sole criterion of political legitimation'. But security - reducing plural, spontaneous and surprising phenomena to a level of calculability - also seems to operate against a political legitimacy based on possibilities of dissent, and stands in clear opposition to artistic creativity. Being uncalculable by nature, art is often incompatible with the demands of security and consequently viewed as a 'risk', leading to the arrest of artists, and a neutralisation of innovative environments for the sake of security.Yet precisely the position of art outside the calculable seems to bring about a new politicisation of art, and some speak of art as 'politics by other means'. Has art become the last remaining enclave of a critique of violence? Yet how 'risky' can art be?The contributors to DATA browser 04: CREATING INSECURITY address these questions at the intersection of art, technology, and politics.

The roots of Hallowe'en lie in the ancient pre-Christian Celtic festival of Samhain, a feast to mark the death of the old year and the birth of the new. It was believed that on this night the veil separating the worlds of the living and the dead grew thin and ruptured, allowing spirits to pass through and walk unseen but not unheard amongst men. The advent of Christianity saw the pagan festival subsumed in All Souls' Day, when across Europe the dead were mourned and venerated. Children and the poor, often masked or in outlandish costume, wandered the night begging 'soul cakes' in exchange for prayers, and fires burned to keep malevolent phantoms at bay. From Europe, the haunted tradition would quickly take root and flourish in the fertile soil of the New World. Feeding hungrily on fresh lore, consuming half-remembered tales of its own shadowy origins and rituals, Hallowe'en was reborn in America. The pumpkin supplanted the carved turnip; costumes grew ever stranger, and celebrants both rural and urban seized gleefully on the festival's intoxicating, lawless spirit. For one wild night, the dead stared into the faces of the living and the living, ghoulishly masked and clad in tattered backwoods baroque, stared back. The photographs in Haunted Air provide an extraordinary glimpse into the traditions of this macabre festival from ages past, and form an important document of photographic history. These are the pictures of the dead: family portraits, mementos of the treasured, now unrecognisable, other. Torn from album pages, sold piecemeal for pennies and scattered, abandoned to melancholy chance and the hands of strangers.