Hear the Beatles’ ‘Blackbird’ Sung in the Indigenous Mi’kmaq Language

To raise aware­ness of her native lan­guage, 16-year-old Emma Stevens sang a ver­sion of The Bea­t­les’ 1968 clas­sic “Black­bird” in the Mi’k­maq lan­guage, an East­ern Algo­nquian lan­guage spo­ken by near­ly 11,000 in Cana­da and the Unit­ed States. A mem­ber of the Eska­soni First Nation, the Nova Sco­tia stu­dent sang lyrics that were painstak­ing­ly trans­lat­ed by Katani Julian, a teacher who works in lan­guage revi­tal­iza­tion. Julian told WBUR. “My lan­guage is very dif­fer­ent from oth­er ones.” “There’s a lot of syl­la­bles in ours. And there’s a lot of long words that trans­late into some­thing real­ly easy in Eng­lish.”

You can find the lyrics below and the song above.

Pu’tliskiej wap­in­in­toq
Kina’masi telayja’timk
tel pitawsin
eskimatimu’sipnek nike’ mnja’sin

Pu’tliskiej wap­in­in­toq
Ewlapin nike’ nmiteke
tel pkitawsin
eskimatimu’sipnek nike’ seya’sin

Pu’tliskiej…layja’si
ta’n wasatek poqnitpa’qiktuk

Pu’tliskiej…layja’si
ta’n wasatek poqnitpa’qiktuk

Pu’tliskiej wap­in­in­toq
Kina’masi telayja’timk
tel pitawsin

eskimatimu’sipnek nike’ mnja’sin
eskimatimu’sipnek nike’ mnja’sin
eskimatimu’sipnek nike’ mnja’sin

——————————————————–

Boo-dull-ees-kee-edge wob­bin-in-toq
Kee-na-ma-see dell-I-jaw-dimk
dell-bit-ow-sin
ess-gum-mud-dum-oo-sup-neg nike’ mn-jaw-sin

Boo-dull-ees-kee-edge wob­bin-in-toq
ew-la-bin nike’ num-mid-deh-geh
dell-bit-ow-sin
ess-gum-mud-dum-oo-sup-neg say-ya-sin

Boo-dull-ees-kee-edge, lie-jaw-see
don was­sa-deg poq-nit-ba’q‑ik-tuk

Boo-dull-ees-kee-edge, lie-jaw-see
don was­sa-deg poq-nit-ba’q‑ik-tuk

Boo-dull-ees-kee-edge wob­bin-in-toq
Kee-na-ma-see dell-I-jaw-dimk
dell-bit-ow-sin

ess-gum-mud-dum-oo-sup-neg nike’ mn-jaw-sin
ess-gum-mud-dum-oo-sup-neg nike’ mn-jaw-sin
ess-gum-mud-dum-oo-sup-neg nike’ mn-jaw-sin

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Watch Pre­cious­ly Rare Footage of Paul McCart­ney Record­ing “Black­bird” at Abbey Road Stu­dios (1968)

Paul McCart­ney Explains How Bach Influ­enced “Black­bird”

How The Bea­t­les Reviewed Songs Top­ping the Charts Dur­ing the 1960s: Hear Their Takes on the Beach Boys, Ray Charles, the Byrds, Joan Baez & More

Hear the Brazil­ian Met­al Band Singing in–and Try­ing to Save–Their Native Lan­guage of Tupi-Guarani

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Wes Anderson Visits a Paris Video Store and Highlights the Films He Loves: Kurosawa, Truffaut, Buñuel & More

Wes Ander­son lives at least part-time in Paris, a sit­u­a­tion whose advan­tages include the abil­i­ty to fre­quent JM Vidéo, one of the very few cinephile-ori­ent­ed video-rental shops still in busi­ness. His apart­ment is on rue Daguerre, which would make it a bit of a trek — across the Seine and then some — to get there. Still, he made it out to JM to shoot the video above, the lat­est install­ment of a series from French Youtube chan­nel Kon­bi­ni in which famous auteurs (here on Open Cul­ture, we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured episodes star­ing David Cro­nen­berg and Ter­ry Gilliam) pick their favorites off the shelves. Any­one who’s seen Ander­son­’s work will have a sense of his love of movies, but sel­dom have we had the chance to see him speak so enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly about them.

Ander­son­’s JM jour­ney begins and ends in Japan. He calls Shōhei Ima­mu­ra’s Vengeance Is Mine “a great, very long, sort of ser­i­al killer movie” and names Aki­ra Kuro­sawa’s Drunk­en Angel as one source of music for his own ani­mat­ed film Isle of Dogs. There fol­low works from Luis Buñuel, Rouben Mamou­lian (who seems to have been a par­tic­u­lar­ly pow­er­ful fount of inspi­ra­tion), musi­cals like The Paja­ma Game and Meet Me in St. Louis, and John Sturges’ West­ern Bad Day at Black Rock (whose title sequence he lift­ed for his lat­est pic­ture, Aster­oid City).

He also pulls out a series of French films: The Fire With­in by Louis Malle, The Big Risk by Claude Sautet, Play­time by Jacques Tati, Vagabond by Agnès Var­da (her­self a one­time rue Daguerre res­i­dent), The Crime of Mon­sieur Lange by Jean Renoir, and The Man Who Loved Women by François Truf­faut.

Oth­er of Ander­son­’s selec­tions involve his col­lab­o­ra­tors: his pro­duc­tion design­er Adam Stock­hausen worked on Steven Spiel­berg’s Cold War thriller Bridge of Spies, his direc­tor of pho­tog­ra­phy Robert Yeo­man worked on Gus Van San­t’s Drug­store Cow­boy. Find­ing Mel Stu­ar­t’s Willy Won­ka and the Choco­late Fac­to­ry prompts him to dis­cuss his own upcom­ing Roald Dahl adap­ta­tion, a short film for Net­flix (cur­rent own­er of Dahl’s work) called The Won­der­ful Sto­ry of Hen­ry Sug­ar. Not long there­after he comes around to the ani­me sec­tion, where he express­es his appre­ci­a­tion for Isao Taka­hata’s fea­ture Only Yes­ter­day and Hidea­ki Anno’s series Neon Gen­e­sis Evan­ge­lion. He imag­ines the pos­si­bil­i­ty of “some­one becom­ing a Neon Gen­e­sis Evan­ge­lion fanat­ic and mak­ing it their reli­gion”; the fact that he has­n’t seen the actu­al­i­ty sug­gests that, how­ev­er inter­na­tion­al his life and work have become, he has yet to spend time in Mex­i­co.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Wes Anderson’s Favorite Films

David Cro­nen­berg Vis­its a Video Store & Talks About His Favorite Movies

Wes Ander­son Names 12 of His Favorite Art Films

Ter­ry Gilliam Vis­its a Video Store & Talks About His Favorite Movies and Actors

Books in the Films of Wes Ander­son: A Super­cut for Bib­lio­philes

Steal Like Wes Ander­son: A New Video Essay Explores How Wes Ander­son Pays Art­ful Trib­ute to Alfred Hitch­cock, Ing­mar Bergman & Oth­er Direc­tors in His Films

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Explore Exquisite Kimono Designs from 19th-Century Japan

Japan’s 19th-cen­tu­ry kimonos blur the lines between art and fash­ion.

Mei­ji era cus­tomers could browse hina­ga­ta-bon, tra­di­tion­al­ly bound pat­tern books, on vis­its to drap­ers and fab­ric mer­chants. These col­or­ful vol­umes offered a glam­orous update of the Edo period’s black-and-white kimono pat­tern books.

Aspir­ing design­ers also stud­ied hina­ga­ta-bon, as many of the designs fea­tured with­in were the work of cel­e­brat­ed artists.

Each page fea­tured a stan­dard kimono out­line in a back or side view, embell­ished with the pro­posed design. These range from tra­di­tion­al flo­ral motifs to bold land­scapes to strik­ing geo­met­ric pat­terns, some arrest­ing, some dis­creet.

As Hunter Dukes observes in the Pub­lic Domain Review, the Mei­ji era ush­ered in a peri­od of tech­no­log­i­cal advance­ment. Rep­re­sen­ta­tives of the Japan­ese tex­tile indus­try ven­tured abroad, embrac­ing and adapt­ing dying process­es they saw prac­ticed in the Unit­ed States and Europe. The abil­i­ty to sten­cil pastes of chem­i­cal dye onto silk helped to indus­tri­al­ize the kimono-mak­ing process. Peo­ple who pre­vi­ous­ly could­n’t have afford­ed such a gar­ment could now choose from a vari­ety of designs.

The explo­sion in kimono pro­duc­tion spurred demand for fresh designs. Pub­lish­ers began to release hina­ga­ta-bon annu­al­ly. Pre­vi­ous years’ pat­tern books were of lit­tle inter­est to sophis­ti­cat­ed cus­tomers clam­or­ing for the lat­est fash­ions.

Unlike today’s dis­pos­able fash­ion mags, how­ev­er, the pat­tern books’ high aes­thet­ic and pro­duc­tion qual­i­ty saved them from destruc­tion.

In her 1924 book, Block Print­ing and Book Illus­tra­tion in Japan, author Louise Nor­ton Brown wrote that cast-off hina­ga­ta-bon could be “found in all the sec­ond­hand book shops of Japan … (where they were) com­par­a­tive­ly inex­pen­sive.”

These days, you can find Mei­ji era pat­tern books in a num­ber of world class institution’s col­lec­tions includ­ing the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art, the British Library, the Art Insti­tute of Chica­go, and The Smith­son­ian Nation­al Muse­um of Asian Art, which dig­i­tized the kimono designs by Seiko Ueno fea­tured in this post.

Explore four Mei­ji era kimono pat­tern books here.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Explore the Beau­ti­ful Pages of the 1902 Japan­ese Design Mag­a­zine Shin-Bijut­sukai: Euro­pean Mod­ernism Meets Tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese Design

1,000+ His­toric Japan­ese Illus­trat­ed Books Dig­i­tized & Put Online by the Smith­son­ian: From the Edo & Meji Eras (1600–1912)

Hun­dreds of Won­der­ful Japan­ese Fire­work Designs from the Ear­ly-1900s: Dig­i­tized and Free to Down­load

– Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo and Cre­ative, Not Famous Activ­i­ty Book. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

A 3D Animation Reveals What Paris Looked Like When It Was a Roman Town

The stan­dard tour of Paris feels like a jour­ney back through time: the Eif­fel Tow­er stands for the eigh­teen-eight­ies, the Arc de Tri­om­phe for the turn of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, Les Invalides for the turn of the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, Notre-Dame for the mid-four­teenth cen­tu­ry, Sainte-Chapelle for the mid-thir­teenth cen­tu­ry, and so on. But of course, this is much too sim­ple a way of see­ing it, since so many of France’s his­tor­i­cal land­marks have been repeat­ed­ly expand­ed, ren­o­vat­ed, or mod­i­fied over the cen­turies. (The Lou­vre, for exam­ple, bog­gles the mind with not just its sheer scale, but also the span of eras embod­ied by its con­struc­tion.)

Paris’ his­to­ry also goes much deep­er than many tourists imag­ine. To dis­cov­er it, they must go deep­er in a lit­er­al sense, down into the Crypte Arche­ologique de l’île de la Cité. Con­ve­nient­ly locat­ed right next to Notre-Dame, this under­ground muse­um con­tains arti­facts of the city as it was 2,000 years ago, when it was a rel­a­tive­ly mod­est Gal­lo-Roman town called Lute­tia, or in French, Lutèce.

On dis­play there as well are some of the ani­ma­tions seen in the video above, which recon­struct Lutèce at the height of the Roman Empire in 3D. The aer­i­al view it pro­vides shows the Ile de la Cité, rec­og­niz­able today in form but not func­tion: 1,300 years before the com­ple­tion of Notre-Dame, it had yet even to be occu­pied by the fortress of its Roman gov­er­nor.

Long gone is the dom­i­nant fea­ture of Lutèce’s built envi­ron­ment: its Roman forum, which was locat­ed on a choice piece of real estate between the cur­rent Boule­vard Saint-Michel and Rue Saint-Jacques. But one impor­tant frag­ment of Luté­cien pub­lic life does sur­vive: the Arènes de Lutèce, l’orgueil de la cité, which host­ed spec­ta­cles both reli­gious and impe­r­i­al, as well as no few glad­i­a­to­r­i­al con­tests. In this longer broad­cast of Des Racines et des Ailes, you can see the 3D recon­struc­tion of the amphithe­ater woven in with footage of its remains as they look in the mod­ern day. Fran­coph­o­nes should note that it also includes an inter­view with Sylvie Robin, a con­ser­va­tor from the Musée Car­navalet — anoth­er essen­tial des­ti­na­tion for any­one with a seri­ous inter­est in Parisian time trav­el.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Roman Roads of Gaul Visu­al­ized as a Mod­ern Sub­way Map

Take an Aer­i­al Tour of Medieval Paris

A 3D Ani­mat­ed His­to­ry of Paris: Take a Visu­al Jour­ney from Ancient Times to 1900

Paris in Beau­ti­ful Col­or Images from 1890: The Eif­fel Tow­er, Notre Dame, The Pan­théon, and More (1890)

A Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Rome, Cir­ca 320 CE: Explore Stun­ning Recre­ations of The Forum, Colos­se­um and Oth­er Mon­u­ments

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

How Much of What You See Is Actually a Hallucination?: An Animated TED-Ed Lesson

All of us have, at one time or anoth­er, been accused of not see­ing what’s right in front of us. But as a close exam­i­na­tion of our bio­log­i­cal visu­al sys­tem reveals, none of us can see what’s right in front of us. “Our eyes have blind spots where the optic nerve blocks part of the reti­na,” says the nar­ra­tor of the new ani­mat­ed TED-Ed video above. “When the visu­al cor­tex process­es light into coher­ent images, it fills in these blind spots with infor­ma­tion from the sur­round­ing area. Occa­sion­al­ly we might notice a glitch, but most of the time, we’re none the wis­er.” This absence of gen­uine infor­ma­tion in the very cen­ter of our vision has long cir­cu­lat­ed in the stan­dard set of fas­ci­nat­ing facts.

What’s less well known is that these same neu­ro­log­i­cal process­es have made the blind see — or rather, they’ve induced in the blind an expe­ri­ence sub­jec­tive­ly indis­tin­guish­able from see­ing. It’s just that the things they “see” don’t exist in real­i­ty.

Take the case of an elder­ly woman named Ros­alie, with which the video opens. On one oth­er­wise nor­mal day at the nurs­ing home, “her room sud­den­ly burst to life with twirling fab­rics. Through the elab­o­rate drap­ings, she could make out ani­mals, chil­dren, and cos­tumed char­ac­ters,” even though she’d lost her sight long before. “Ros­alie had devel­oped a con­di­tion known as Charles Bon­net Syn­drome, in which patients with either impaired vision or total blind­ness sud­den­ly hal­lu­ci­nate whole scenes in vivid col­or.”

This leads us to the coun­ter­in­tu­itive find­ing that you don’t need sight to expe­ri­ence visu­al hal­lu­ci­na­tions. (You do need to have once had sight, which gives the brain visu­al mem­o­ries on which to draw lat­er.) But “even in peo­ple with com­plete­ly unim­paired sens­es, the brain con­structs the world we per­ceive from incom­plete infor­ma­tion.” Take that gap in the mid­dle of our visu­al field, which the brain fills with, in effect, a hal­lu­ci­na­tion, albeit not one of the elab­o­rate, some­times over­whelm­ing kinds induced by “recre­ation­al and ther­a­peu­tic drugs, con­di­tions like epilep­sy and nar­colep­sy, and psy­chi­atric dis­or­ders like schiz­o­phre­nia.” At the end of the les­son, the nar­ra­tor sug­gests that inter­est­ed view­ers seek out the work of neu­rol­o­gist-writer Oliv­er Sacks, which deals exten­sive­ly with what opens gaps between real­i­ty and our per­cep­tions — and which we here at Open Cul­ture are always pre­pared to rec­om­mend.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Oliv­er Sacks Explains the Biol­o­gy of Hal­lu­ci­na­tions: “We See with the Eyes, But with the Brain as Well”

Real­i­ty Is Noth­ing But a Hal­lu­ci­na­tion: A Mind-Bend­ing Crash Course on the Neu­ro­science of Con­scious­ness

A Beau­ti­ful 1870 Visu­al­iza­tion of the Hal­lu­ci­na­tions That Come Before a Migraine

Alice in Won­der­land Syn­drome: The Real Per­cep­tu­al Dis­or­der That May Have Shaped Lewis Carroll’s Cre­ative World

This is What Oliv­er Sacks Learned on LSD and Amphet­a­mines

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Frederick Douglass’s Fiery 1852 Speech, “The Meaning of July 4th for the Negro,” Read by James Earl Jones

Every year on this day, Fred­er­ick Douglass’s fiery, uncom­pro­mis­ing 1852 speech, “The Mean­ing of July 4th for the Negro,” gets a new hear­ing, and takes on added res­o­nance in the con­text of con­tem­po­rary pol­i­tics. It has nev­er ceased to speak direct­ly to those for whom the cel­e­bra­tions can seem like a hol­low mock­ery of free­dom and inde­pen­dence. The Amer­i­can hol­i­day com­mem­o­rates the adop­tion of the Dec­la­ra­tion of Inde­pen­dence—next to the Con­sti­tu­tion, the U.S.A.’s most cher­ished found­ing doc­u­ment, and a text, for all its rhetor­i­cal ele­gance, which can­not escape the irony that it was writ­ten by a slave­hold­er for an emerg­ing slave nation.

Slav­ery had always been a con­tentious sub­ject among the colonists. And yet the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion was a war waged for the full free­dom and enfran­chise­ment of only a very few white men of prop­er­ty. Not only were black peo­ple exclud­ed from the nation’s free­doms, but so too were con­quered Native Amer­i­can nations, and in great part, poor white men and women who could not vote—though they were not chained in per­pet­u­al servi­tude as human chat­tel, with lit­tle hope of lib­er­ty for them­selves or their descen­dants.

Dou­glass gave the speech in Rochester, NY, sev­en­ty-six years after the first July 4th and at a time when the coun­try was riv­en with irrec­on­cil­able ten­sions between abo­li­tion­ists, free-soil­ers, and the slave­hold­ing South. The Com­pro­mise of 1850 and the Fugi­tive Slave Act—at least, in hindsight—made the impend­ing Civ­il War all but inevitable. The speech reveals the cel­e­bra­tion as a sham for those who were or had been enslaved, and who could not con­sid­er them­selves Amer­i­can cit­i­zens regard­less of their sta­tus (as Supreme Court Chief Jus­tice Roger B. Taney would affirm five years lat­er.)

Just above, you can hear a pow­er­ful read­ing of Douglass’s speech by James Earl Jones, deliv­ered as part of Howard Zinn’s Voic­es of a People’s His­to­ry of the Unit­ed States. Read an excerpt of the speech below.

What, to the Amer­i­can slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all oth­er days of the year, the gross injus­tice and cru­el­ty to which he is a con­stant vic­tim. To him, your cel­e­bra­tion is a sham; your boast­ed lib­er­ty, an unholy license; your nation­al great­ness, swelling van­i­ty; your sounds of rejoic­ing are emp­ty and heart­less; your denun­ci­a­tion of tyrants, brass front­ed impu­dence; your shouts of lib­er­ty and equal­i­ty, hol­low mock­ery; your prayers and hymns, your ser­mons and thanks­giv­ings, with all your reli­gious parade and solem­ni­ty, are, to Him, mere bom­bast, fraud, decep­tion, impi­ety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cov­er up crimes that would dis­grace a nation of sav­ages. There is not a nation of the earth guilty of prac­tices more shock­ing and bloody than are the peo­ple of these Unit­ed States at this very hour.

Douglass’s speech con­demned the “scorch­ing irony” of Amer­i­can inde­pen­dence even after the Civ­il War, as racist ter­ror­ism and Jim Crow destroyed the promise of Recon­struc­tion. In our present time, writes Pulitzer Prize-win­ning author and pro­fes­sor Isabel Wilk­er­son, amidst the rash of high pro­file police killings and an ensu­ing lack of jus­tice, events “have forced us to con­front our place in a coun­try where we were enslaved for far longer than we have been free. Forced us to face the dispir­it­ing ero­sion that we have wit­nessed in recent years—from the birther assaults on a sit­ting black pres­i­dent to the gut­ting of the Vot­ing Rights Act that we had believed was carved in gran­ite.” We might add to this list the resump­tion of the failed “War on Drugs” and the fed­er­al gov­ern­men­t’s announce­ments that it would do lit­tle to safe­guard civ­il rights nor to inves­ti­gate and pros­e­cute the surge of white suprema­cist vio­lence.

And yet the “self evi­dent” mythol­o­gy of Amer­i­can free­dom and equality—and of Amer­i­can innocence—remains potent and seduc­tive to many peo­ple in the coun­try. As the con­ser­v­a­tive think tank Amer­i­can Enter­prise Insti­tute put it a few days ago, “The birth of the Unit­ed States was unique because it was a nation found­ed not on blood or eth­nic­i­ty, but on ideas.” To this ahis­tor­i­cal fic­tion, which man­ages to erase the founders’ own state­ments on race, the col­o­niza­tion of indige­nous lands, and even the bloody Rev­o­lu­tion­ary War in its strange­ly des­per­ate zeal to sweep the past away, Dou­glass would reply: “The feel­ing of the nation must be quick­ened; the con­science of the nation must be roused; the pro­pri­ety of the nation must be star­tled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and the crimes against God and man must be pro­claimed and denounced.”

Note: This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site in 2017.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Civ­il War & Recon­struc­tion: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Take Free Cours­es on African-Amer­i­can His­to­ry from Yale and Stan­ford: From Eman­ci­pa­tion, to the Civ­il Rights Move­ment, and Beyond

1.5 Mil­lion Slav­ery Era Doc­u­ments Will Be Dig­i­tized, Help­ing African Amer­i­cans to Learn About Their Lost Ances­tors

Albert Ein­stein Explains How Slav­ery Has Crip­pled Everyone’s Abil­i­ty (Even Aristotle’s) to Think Clear­ly About Racism

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Stravinsky’s “Illegal” Arrangement of “The Star Spangled Banner” (1944)

In 1939, Igor Stravin­sky emi­grat­ed to the Unit­ed States, first arriv­ing in New York City, before set­tling in Cam­bridge, Mass­a­chu­setts, where he deliv­ered the Charles Eliot Nor­ton lec­tures at Har­vard dur­ing the 1939–40 aca­d­e­m­ic year. While liv­ing in Boston, the com­pos­er con­duct­ed the Boston Sym­pho­ny and, on one famous occa­sion, he decid­ed to con­duct his own arrange­ment of the “The Star-Span­gled Ban­ner,” which he made out a “desire to do my bit in these griev­ous times toward fos­ter­ing and pre­serv­ing the spir­it of patri­o­tism in this coun­try.” The date was Jan­u­ary, 1944. And he was, of course, refer­ring to Amer­i­ca’s role in World War II.

As you might expect, Stravin­sky’s ver­sion on “The Star-Span­gled Ban­ner” was­n’t entire­ly con­ven­tion­al, see­ing that it added a dom­i­nant sev­enth chord to the arrange­ment. And the Boston police, not exact­ly an orga­ni­za­tion with avant-garde sen­si­bil­i­ties, issued Stravin­sky a warn­ing, claim­ing there was a law against tam­per­ing with the nation­al anthem. (They were mis­read­ing the statute.) Grudg­ing­ly, Stravin­sky pulled it from the bill.

You can hear Stravin­sky’s “Star-Span­gled Ban­ner” above, appar­ent­ly per­formed by the Lon­don Sym­pho­ny Orches­tra, and con­duct­ed by Michael Tilson Thomas. The Youtube video fea­tures an apoc­ryphal mugshot of Stravin­sky. Despite the mythol­o­gy cre­at­ed around this event, Stravin­sky was nev­er arrest­ed.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Night When Char­lie Park­er Played for Igor Stravin­sky (1951)

Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, Visu­al­ized in a Com­put­er Ani­ma­tion for Its 100th Anniver­sary

Watch 82-Year-Old Igor Stravin­sky Con­duct The Fire­bird, the Bal­let Mas­ter­piece That First Made Him Famous (1965)

Hear 46 Ver­sions of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring in 3 Min­utes: A Clas­sic Mashup

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How Stanley Kubrick Adapted Stephen King’s The Shining into a Cinematic Masterpiece

For most of us, the title The Shin­ing first calls to mind the Stan­ley Kubrick film, not the Stephen King nov­el from which it was adapt­ed. Though it would be an exag­ger­a­tion to say that the for­mer has entire­ly eclipsed the lat­ter, the enor­mous dif­fer­ence between the works’ rel­a­tive cul­tur­al impact speaks for itself — as does the resent­ment King occa­sion­al­ly airs about Kubrick­’s exten­sive rework­ing of his orig­i­nal sto­ry. At the cen­ter of both ver­sions of The Shin­ing is a win­ter care­tak­er at a moun­tain resort who goes insane and tries to mur­der his own fam­i­ly, but in most oth­er respects, the expe­ri­ence of the two works could hard­ly be more dif­fer­ent.

How King’s The Shin­ing became Kubrick­’s The Shin­ing is the sub­ject of the video essay above from Tyler Knud­sen, bet­ter known as Cin­e­maTyler, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture for his videos on such auteurs as Robert Wiene, Jean Renoir, and Andrei Tarkovsky (as well as a sev­en-part series on Kubrick­’s own 2001: A Space Odyssey). It begins with Kubrick­’s search for a new idea after com­plet­ing Bar­ry Lyn­don, which involved open­ing book after book at ran­dom and toss­ing against the wall any and all that proved unable to hold his atten­tion. When it became clear that The Shin­ing, the young King’s third nov­el, would­n’t go fly­ing, Kubrick enlist­ed the more expe­ri­enced nov­el­ist Diane John­son to col­lab­o­rate with him on an adap­ta­tion for the screen.

Almost all of Kubrick­’s films are based on books. As Knud­sen explains it, “Kubrick felt that there aren’t many orig­i­nal screen­writ­ers who are a high enough cal­iber as some of the great­est nov­el­ists,” and that start­ing with an already-writ­ten work “allowed him to see the sto­ry more objec­tive­ly.” In deter­min­ing the qual­i­ties that res­onat­ed with him, per­son­al­ly, “he could get at the core of what was good about the sto­ry, strip away the clut­ter, and enhance the most bril­liant aspects with a pro­found sense of hind­sight.” In no case do the trans­for­ma­tive effects of this process come through more clear­ly than The Shin­ing: Kubrick and John­son reduced King’s almost 450 dia­logue- and flash­back-filled pages to a res­o­nant­ly stark two and a half hours of film that has haunt­ed view­ers for four decades now.

“I don’t think the audi­ence is like­ly to miss the many and self-con­scious­ly ‘heavy’ pages King devotes to things like Jack­’s father’s drink­ing prob­lem or Wendy’s moth­er,” Kubrick once said. Still, any­one can hack a sto­ry down: the hard part is know­ing what to keep, and even more so what to inten­si­fy for max­i­mum effect. Knud­sen lists off a host of choic­es Kubrick and John­son con­sid­ered (includ­ing show­ing more Native Amer­i­can imagery, which should please fans of Bill Blake­more’s analy­sis in “The Fam­i­ly of Man”) but ulti­mate­ly reject­ed. The result is a film with an abun­dance of visu­al detail, but only enough nar­ra­tive and char­ac­ter detail to facil­i­tate Kubrick­’s aim of “using the audi­ence’s own imag­i­na­tion against them,” let­ting them fill in the gaps with fears of their own. While his ver­sion of The Shin­ing evades near­ly all clichés, it does demon­strate the truth of one: less is more.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Anno­tat­ed Copy of Stephen King’s The Shin­ing

Decod­ing the Screen­plays of The Shin­ing, Moon­rise King­dom & The Dark Knight: Watch Lessons from the Screen­play

How Stan­ley Kubrick Made 2001: A Space Odyssey: A Sev­en-Part Video Essay

Stan­ley Kubrick’s The Shin­ing Reimag­ined as Wes Ander­son and David Lynch Movies

The Shin­ing and Oth­er Com­plex Stan­ley Kubrick Films Recut as Sim­ple Hol­ly­wood Movies

A Kubrick Schol­ar Dis­cov­ers an Eerie Detail in The Shin­ing That’s Gone Unno­ticed for More Than 40 Years

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Footage from New York City’s First Gay Pride March (1970)

The fore­cast­ed rain held off, the poor air qual­i­ty caused by Cana­di­an wild­fires had abat­ed, and the world’s largest Pride parade stepped off with­out inci­dent in New York City on the final Sun­day in June.

It’s grown quite a bit since the last Sun­day of June 1970, when Christo­pher Street Lib­er­a­tion Day March par­tic­i­pants parad­ed from Sheri­dan Square to Cen­tral Park’s Sheep Mead­ow.

Seek­ing to com­mem­o­rate the one year anniver­sary of the Stonewall Upris­ing, when a police raid touched off a riot at the Green­wich Vil­lage gay bar, the even­t’s plan­ners took inspi­ra­tion from the orga­nized resis­tance to the Viet­nam War and Annu­al Reminders, a year­ly call for equal­i­ty from the Philadel­phia-based East­ern Region­al Con­fer­ence of Homophile Orga­ni­za­tions.

Parade co-orga­niz­er Craig Rod­well imag­ined a more free­wheel­ing pub­lic event involv­ing larg­er num­bers than Annu­al Reminders, some­thing that could  “encom­pass the ideas and ideals of the larg­er strug­gle in which we are engaged—that of our fun­da­men­tal human rights.”

In the lead up to the parade, Gay Lib­er­a­tion Front News report­ed that soci­ety stacked the deck against open­ly gay indi­vid­u­als, an obser­va­tion echoed by a marcher in les­bian activist Lil­li M. Vin­cenz’s doc­u­men­tary footage, above:

At first I was very guilty, and then I real­ized that all the things that are taught you, not only by soci­ety but by psy­chi­a­trists are just to fit you in a mold and I’ve just reject­ed the mold. And when I reject­ed the mold, I was hap­pi­er.

Look care­ful­ly for plac­ards from var­i­ous par­tic­i­pat­ing groups, includ­ing the Mat­ta­chine Soci­eties of Wash­ing­ton and New York, Laven­der Men­ace, the Gay Activists Alliance, a church, and gay stu­dent groups at Rut­gers and Yale.

Esti­mates place the crowd at any­where from 3,000 to 20,000. In addi­tion to marchers, the parade drew plen­ty of onlook­ers, some voic­ing sup­port like a uni­formed sol­dier sta­tioned at Fort Dix who says “Great, man, do your thing!”. Oth­ers came pre­pared to voice their vig­or­ous oppo­si­tion.

“He’s a clos­et queen and you can find him in Howard Johnson’s any night,” a marcher cracks when asked his opin­ion of a counter demon­stra­tor bran­dish­ing a sign invok­ing Sodom and Gomor­rah.

Pre­sum­ably the sec­ond part of this marcher’s com­ment was not intend­ed to sig­ni­fy that the gent in ques­tion had a pow­er­ful attrac­tion to the ven­er­a­ble Times Square diner’s fried clams, but rather its upstairs neigh­bor, the all-male Gai­ety strip club.

Com­pared to the flashy fes­tive cos­tumes and boom­ing club music that have become a sta­ple of this millennia’s Pride March­es, 1970’s pro­ceed­ings were a com­par­a­tive­ly mod­est affair. Marchers chant­ed in uni­son, pro­cess­ing uptown in street clothes — hip­pie-style duds of the peri­od with a cou­ple of square suits and fedo­ras in the mix.

A clean cut young man in a wind­break­er and nat­ty star-span­gled tie expressed frank dis­ap­point­ment that May­or John Lind­say and oth­er polit­i­cal fig­ures had kept their dis­tance.

Younger read­ers may be tak­en aback to hear Vin­cenz ask­ing him how long he had been gay, but grat­i­fied when he responds, “I was born homo­sex­u­al, it’s beau­ti­ful.”

By the time the marchers reached the Sheep Mead­ow, a num­ber of men had shed their shirts. The parade mor­phed into a pas­toral cel­e­bra­tion in which rev­el­ers can be seen play­ing Ring Around the Rosie, pluck­ing weeds to dec­o­rate each other’s hair, and attempt­ing to break the record for longest kiss.

A man whose bib over­alls have been cus­tomized with iron-on let­ters arranged to spell out Stud Farm express­es regret that he spent so many years in the clos­et.

Co-orga­niz­er Fos­ter Gun­ni­son Jr.’s wish was for every queer par­tic­i­pant to leave the parade with “a new feel­ing of pride and self-con­fi­dence … to raise the con­sciences of par­tic­i­pat­ing homo­sex­u­als-to devel­op courage, and feel­ings of dig­ni­ty and self-worth.”

That first parade’s mar­shal, Mark Segal, cofounder of Gay Lib­er­a­tion Front, summed it up on the 50th anniver­sary of the orig­i­nal event:

The march was a reflec­tion of us: out, loud and proud.

Enjoy a glimpse of 2023’s New York City Pride March here.

Via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent 

The Untold Sto­ry of Dis­co and Its Black, Lati­no & LGBTQ Roots

Dif­fer­ent From the Oth­ers (1919): The First Gay Rights Movie Ever … Lat­er Destroyed by the Nazis

Sig­mund Freud Writes to Con­cerned Moth­er: “Homo­sex­u­al­i­ty is Noth­ing to Be Ashamed Of” (1935)

– Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo and Cre­ative, Not Famous Activ­i­ty Book. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

3,900 Pages of Paul Klee’s Personal Notebooks Are Now Online, Highlighting His Bauhaus Teachings (1921–1931)

Paul Klee led an artis­tic life that spanned the 19th and 20th cen­turies, but he kept his aes­thet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ty tuned to the future. Because of that, much of the Swiss-Ger­man Bauhaus-asso­ci­at­ed painter’s work, which at its most dis­tinc­tive defines its own cat­e­go­ry of abstrac­tion, still exudes a vital­i­ty today.

And he left behind not just those 9,000 pieces of art (not count­ing the hand pup­pets he made for his son), but plen­ty of writ­ings as well, the best known of which came out in Eng­lish as Paul Klee Note­books, two vol­umes (The Think­ing Eye and The Nature of Nature) col­lect­ing the artist’s essays on mod­ern art and the lec­tures he gave at the Bauhaus schools in the 1920s.

Klee Notebooks 2

“These works are con­sid­ered so impor­tant for under­stand­ing mod­ern art that they are com­pared to the impor­tance that Leonardo’s A Trea­tise on Paint­ing had for Renais­sance,” says Mono­skop. Their descrip­tion also quotes crit­ic Her­bert Read, who described the books as  “the most com­plete pre­sen­ta­tion of the prin­ci­ples of design ever made by a mod­ern artist – it con­sti­tutes the Prin­cip­ia Aes­thet­i­ca of a new era of art, in which Klee occu­pies a posi­tion com­pa­ra­ble to Newton’s in the realm of physics.”

Klee Notebooks 3

More recent­ly, the Zen­trum Paul Klee made avail­able online almost all 3,900 pages of Klee’s per­son­al note­books, which he used as the source for his Bauhaus teach­ing between 1921 and 1931. If you can’t read Ger­man, his exten­sive­ly detailed tex­tu­al the­o­riz­ing on the mechan­ics of art (espe­cial­ly the use of col­or, with which he strug­gled before return­ing from a 1914 trip to Tunisia declar­ing, “Col­or and I are one. I am a painter”) may not imme­di­ate­ly res­onate with you. But his copi­ous illus­tra­tions of all these obser­va­tions and prin­ci­ples, in their vivid­ness, clar­i­ty, and reflec­tion of a tru­ly active mind, can still cap­ti­vate any­body  — just as his paint­ings do.

Klee Notebooks 4

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

via Mono­skop

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Home­made Hand Pup­pets of Bauhaus Artist Paul Klee

Watch Bauhaus World, a Free Doc­u­men­tary That Cel­e­brates the 100th Anniver­sary of Germany’s Leg­endary Art, Archi­tec­ture & Design School

The Women of the Bauhaus: See Hip, Avant-Garde Pho­tographs of Female Stu­dents & Instruc­tors at the Famous Art School

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The Rarest Sounds Across All Human Languages: Learn What They Are, and How to Say Them

When first we start learn­ing a new for­eign lan­guage, any num­ber of its ele­ments rise up to frus­trate us, even to dis­suade us from going any fur­ther: the moun­tain of vocab­u­lary to be acquired, the gram­mar in which to ori­ent our­selves, the details of pro­nun­ci­a­tion to get our mouths around. In these and all oth­er respects, some lan­guages seem easy, some hard, and oth­ers seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble — those last out­er reach­es being a spe­cial­ty of Youtu­ber Joshua Rud­der, cre­ator of the chan­nel NativLang. In the video above, he not only presents us with a few of the rarest sounds — or phonemes, to use the lin­guis­tic term — in any lan­guage, he also shows us how to make them our­selves.

Sev­er­al African lan­guages use the phoneme gb, as seen twice in the name of the Ivo­rian dance Gbég­bé. “You might be tempt­ed to go all French on it,” Rud­der says, but in fact, you should “bring your tongue up to the soft palate” to make the g sound, and at the same time “close and release your lips” to add the b sound.

Evi­dent­ly, Rud­der pulls it off: “Haven’t heard a for­eign­er say the gb sound right!” says a pre­sum­ably African com­menter below. From there, the phone­mic world tour con­tin­ues to the bil­abi­al trilled africate and pha­ryn­geals used by the Pirahã peo­ple of the Ama­zon and the whis­tles used on one par­tic­u­lar Canary Island — some­thing like the whis­tled lan­guage of Oax­a­ca, Mex­i­co pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.

Rud­der also includes Oax­a­ca in his sur­vey, but he finds an entire­ly dif­fer­ent set of rare sounds used in a riv­er town whose res­i­dents speak the Maza­tec lan­guage. “For every one nor­mal vow­el you give ’em,” he explains, “they have three for you”: one “modal” vari­ety, one “breathy,” and one “creaky.” He ends the video where he began, in Africa, albeit in a dif­fer­ent region of Africa, where he finds some of the rarest phonemes, albeit ones we also might have expect­ed: bil­abi­al clicks, whose speak­ers “close their tongue against the back of their mouth and also close both lips, but don’t purse them.” Then, “using the tongue, they suck a pock­et of air into that enclosed area. Final­ly, they let go of the lips and out pops a” — well, bet­ter to hear Rud­der pro­nounce it. If you can do the same, con­sid­er your­self one step clos­er to readi­ness for a Khoekhoe immer­sion course.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Speak­ing in Whis­tles: The Whis­tled Lan­guage of Oax­a­ca, Mex­i­co

What Eng­lish Would Sound Like If It Was Pro­nounced Pho­net­i­cal­ly

Why Do Peo­ple Talk Fun­ny in Old Movies?, or The Ori­gin of the Mid-Atlantic Accent

The Scotch Pro­nun­ci­a­tion Guide: Bri­an Cox Teach­es You How To Ask Authen­ti­cal­ly for 40 Scotch­es

Was There a First Human Lan­guage?: The­o­ries from the Enlight­en­ment Through Noam Chom­sky

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.


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