Rationale: Acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) remains a major cause of respiratory failure in critically ill patients. Mesenchymal stromal cells (MSCs) are a promising candidate for a cell-based therapy. However, the mechanisms of MSCs' effects in ARDS are not well understood. In this study, we focused on the paracrine effect of MSCs on macrophage polarization and the role of extracellular vesicle (EV)-mediated mitochondrial transfer.Objectives: To determine the effects of human MSCs on macrophage function in the ARDS environment and to elucidate the mechanisms of these effects.Methods: Human monocyte-derived macrophages (MDMs) were studied in noncontact coculture with human MSCs when stimulated with LPS or bronchoalveolar lavage fluid (BALF) from patients with ARDS. Murine alveolar macrophages (AMs) were cultured ex vivo with/without human MSC-derived EVs before adoptive transfer to LPS-injured mice.Measurements and Main Results: MSCs suppressed cytokine production, increased M2 macrophage marker expression, and augmented phagocytic capacity of human MDMs stimulated with LPS or ARDS BALF. These effects were partially mediated by CD44-expressing EVs. Adoptive transfer of AMs pretreated with MSCderived EVs reduced inflammation and lung injury in LPS-injured mice. Inhibition of oxidative phosphorylation in MDMs prevented the modulatory effects of MSCs. Generating dysfunctional mitochondria in MSCs using rhodamine 6G pretreatment also abrogated these effects.Conclusions: In the ARDS environment, MSCs promote an antiinflammatory and highly phagocytic macrophage phenotype through EV-mediated mitochondrial transfer. MSC-induced changes in macrophage phenotype critically depend on enhancement of macrophage oxidative phosphorylation. AMs treated with MSCderived EVs ameliorate lung injury in vivo.

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This paper uses the legal story of an interior design practitioner, Florence Karasik, as a basis for a broader discussion of the professionalization of interior design. The Karasik case will demonstrate three things: (1) that law, which is largely neglected in histories of professionalism, is an important barometer for shifting opinions about what it means to be a profession; (2) that everyday people, like Florence Karasik, had their own, popular conceptions of interior design as a profession; and (3) that popular and legal conceptions of the professionalization of interior design did not always align. The Karasik case, which disclosed a dynamic legal and popular conversation about what it meant to be a professional interior designer, highlights the increasingly decisive role the state would play in the second half of the twentieth century in determining the professional status of interior design.

IntroductionAt the university where I teach faculty members are often bemused by what might be referred to as a Millennial's approach to design. Our concern typically revolves around student research-particularly the use of design precedent. Almost too tempting to ignore, Pinterest and Google images on the World Wide Web provide the student with ready access to a plethora of ideas and concepts on which to base interior design projects.But how sound is this footing? These pinned and Googled images are more often than not gathered in isolation from any type of context: the student picks a "cool" light fixture or material or form. And with great regularity, when questioned, the student cannot explain why such images offer a conceptually solid driver for their projects.As we know, interiors are more than material artifacts where novelty is valued over contextual meaning. Interior design is much more than surface embellishment. To get beneath the surface, it is our educational imperative to provide a broader and deeper interpretation of interior design-to stress the larger social context and impact of space. The alarming propensity to plunder the Internet for inspiration often prevents the student from connecting with the less tangible yet more impactful aspects of the design, such as user experience, the creative process behind the design, and the social values it embodies or to which it responds. 1 More than ever, the Millennial student needs to learn the value of this context, to be armed with the analytical skills to wade through the oceans of online information in which they immerse themselves almost constantly. In the face of this unprecedented technological access to information, can design history offer a way to deepen the perspective of the Millennial and give the next generation ways of connecting design to context?In a field that emphasizes practice and action, to students the history of interior design-whether that involves interior spaces, the decorative arts, material culture, furniture design, architecture, or art history-can sometimes appear irrelevant, and the connection between the past and the newest generation of building integration modeling-specious.This Perspective essay explores the utility of history to the practice and study of interior design. It looks outside the field for inspiration to professions like law, another discipline that has traditionally straddled professional and academic worlds. It proposes the idea of "interior design in context," a concept borrowed from legal scholars, to advocate the closer study of interiors as experiential, human centered, and socially embedded. Interior design's professional commitments do not allow us to let the past or present sit in isolation from its context. History, if used critically, offers nonhistorians-be they students, faculty colleagues, and practitioners-a new way of looking at the field of interior design by creating more socially engaged spaces.

Lillian Wald brought public health nursing to New York City’s congested Lower East Side in summer 1893, where she recorded tenement dwellers’ suffering from cuts, burns, breaks, deaths, illness, and childbirth. Together, nurses traveling streets, alleys, rooftops, and hallways, alongside dwellers acting as “local guides,” inaugurated vernacular mappings. Drawing on letters Wald wrote to her benefactor, Jacob Schiff, in July 1893, describing visiting, cleaning, healing, and connecting, this article uncovers a spatial dimension to pain that invites historians of urban America to discover the sick city.

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