A Cabinet of Curiosities: Discover The Public Domain Review’s New Book of Essays

ANIMATE-CROP

Many of the reg­u­lars to the glo­ri­ous pages of Open Cul­ture might be famil­iar with The Pub­lic Domain Review project, hav­ing been fea­tured on OC a fair few times. From six­teenth-cen­tu­ry wood­cuts on how to swim to hand-col­ored pho­tographs of nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry Japan, you will have seen links to all sorts of his­tor­i­cal odd­i­ties and delights that we’ve gath­ered from var­i­ous archives and high­light­ed on The Pub­lic Domain Review. In addi­tion to these short­er col­lec­tion posts, since we start­ed in 2011, we’ve also pub­lished a steady stream of long-form essays on sim­i­lar won­ders from the his­tor­i­cal record. It is with great plea­sure this week to announce that The Pub­lic Domain Review has com­piled a selec­tion of these essays into a brand-new beau­ti­ful book!

Spread across six themed chap­ters – Ani­mals, Bod­ies, Words, Worlds, Encoun­ters and Net­works – the col­lec­tion includes a total of thir­ty-four essays from a stel­lar line up of con­trib­u­tors, includ­ing Jack Zipes, Frank Delaney, Col­in Dick­ey, George Prochnik, Noga Arikha, and Julian Barnes.

david-music21

There’s a whole host of weird and won­der­ful top­ics explored: from the case of Mary Toft, the woman who claimed to give birth to rab­bits, to William Warren’s search for the coor­di­nates of Eden; from Thomas Browne’s odd litany of imag­ined arte­facts, to the phrase­books of the invent­ed lan­guage VolapĂĽk; from the strange lit­er­ary fruits of the “it-nar­ra­tive” fad, to epic verse in praise of a cat named Jeof­fry; from a his­to­ry of the paint­ed smile, to the bizarre world of medieval ani­mals tri­als.

The col­lec­tion is not all obscu­ri­ties and unknown tales. We have some big hit­ters in there too. Great essays on fig­ures you will no doubt have heard of — the Broth­ers Grimm, Proust , Flaubert, Joyce — but all approached from new angles and illu­mi­nat­ed by unfa­mil­iar lights.

With 146 illus­tra­tions, more than half of which have been new­ly sourced espe­cial­ly for the book, this is very far from sim­ply the web­site in print form. It is a beau­ti­ful object in and of itself, lov­ing­ly designed by writer and design­er Nicholas Jeeves.

Any­how, I hope I’ve enticed you all suf­fi­cient­ly to check out the page on the site for more details, and per­haps even to place an order or two! If you would like to grab your­self a copy then do make sure to put your order in before mid­night on Novem­ber 26th as up until then we’ll be offer­ing the book for a spe­cial dis­count­ed rate and also ensur­ing deliv­ery by Christ­mas.

Adam Green is the co-founder and edi­tor of The Pub­lic Domain Review.

French Couple Sings an Achingly Charming Version of VU’s “Femme Fatale”

Day in, day out, we rum­mage around the inter­net, look­ing for new mate­r­i­al to bring your way. I start search­ing, and I nev­er quite know where the search will take me. Some paths lead to dead ends, oth­ers to inter­est­ing side streets. Speak­ing of inter­est­ing side streets.… Yes­ter­day a trip through some old Vel­vet Under­ground mate­r­i­al (more on that tomor­row) led me to this small, unex­pect­ed delight. Above, we have Math­ieu and Pauline, two young French musi­cians, singing an aching­ly charm­ing ver­sion of VU’s “Femme Fatale”. There’s so much beau­ty and youth in it, it kin­da hurts. Below, see them sing a cov­er of Serge Gains­bourg’s “Elisa.”

Fol­low us on Face­bookTwit­ter and Google Plus and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Andy Warhol Shoots the Only Col­or Film of The Vel­vet Under­ground Play­ing Live in Con­cert (1967)

Hear New­ly-Released Mate­r­i­al from the Lost Acetate Ver­sion of The Vel­vet Under­ground & Nico (1966)

A Sym­pho­ny of Sound (1966): Vel­vet Under­ground Impro­vis­es, Warhol Films It, Until the Cops Turn Up

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The Unexpected Math Behind Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”

If you’ve tak­en a good art his­to­ry course on the Impres­sion­ists and Post-Impres­sion­ists, you’ve inevitably encoun­tered Vin­cent van Gogh’s 1889 mas­ter­piece “Star­ry Night,” which now hangs in the MoMA in New York City. The paint­ing, the muse­um writes on its web site, “is a sym­bol­ic land­scape full of move­ment, ener­gy, and light. The quiet­ness of the vil­lage con­trasts with the swirling ener­gy of the sky.… Van Gogh’s impas­to tech­nique, or thick­ly applied col­ors, cre­ates a rhyth­mic effect—the pic­ture seems to con­stant­ly move in its frame.” Artis­ti­cal­ly, van Gogh man­aged to cap­ture move­ment in a way that no artist had ever quite done it before. Sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly, it turns out, he was on to some­thing too. Just watch the new TED-ED les­son above, The Unex­pect­ed Math Behind Van Gogh’s “Star­ry Night.”

Cre­at­ed by math artist/teacher Natalya St. Clair and ani­ma­tor Avi Ofer, the video explores how “Van Gogh cap­tured [the] deep mys­tery of move­ment, flu­id and light in his work,” and par­tic­u­lar­ly man­aged to depict the elu­sive phe­nom­e­non known as tur­bu­lence. In Star­ry Night, the video observes, van Gogh depict­ed tur­bu­lence with a degree of sophis­ti­ca­tion and accu­ra­cy that rivals the way physi­cists and math­e­mati­cians have best explained tur­bu­lence in their own sci­en­tif­ic papers. And, it all hap­pened, per­haps by coin­ci­dence (?), dur­ing the tur­bu­lent last years of van Gogh’s life.

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David Lynch Takes Aspiring Filmmakers Inside the Art & Craft of Making Indie Films

As a cou­ple of gen­er­a­tions of film stu­dents have shown us, you should­n’t try to imi­tate David Lynch. You should, how­ev­er, learn from David Lynch. At his best, the direc­tor of Eraser­headBlue Vel­vet, and Mul­hol­land Dri­ve has man­aged, in the words of David Fos­ter Wal­lace, to “sin­gle-hand­ed­ly bro­ker a new mar­riage between art and com­merce in U.S. movies, open­ing for­mu­la-frozen Hol­ly­wood to some of the eccen­tric­i­ty and vig­or of art film.” How has Lynch brought his endur­ing­ly strange and rich­ly evoca­tive visions to the screen, and to a sur­pris­ing extent into the main­stream, with­out much appar­ent com­pro­mise?

You can get an idea of his method in Room to Dream: David Lynch and the Inde­pen­dent Film­mak­er, the twen­ty-minute doc­u­men­tary above. Since Lynch has­n’t released a fea­ture film since 2006’s Inland Empire — an espe­cial­ly uncom­pro­mis­ing work, admit­ted­ly — some fans have won­dered whether he’s put the movies, per se, behind him.

But Room to Dream shows the direc­tor in recent years, very much engaged in both the the­o­ry and process of film­mak­ing — or rather, his dis­tinc­tive inter­pre­ta­tions of the the­o­ry and process of film­mak­ing.

This touch­es on his child­hood obses­sion with draw­ing weapons, his dis­cov­ery of “mov­ing paint­ings,” his endorse­ment of learn­ing by doing, how he uses dig­i­tal video, his enjoy­ment of 40-minute takes, why peo­ple fear the “very dark,” con­vey­ing mean­ing with­out explain­ing mean­ing (espe­cial­ly to actors), the process of “rehears­ing-and-talk­ing, rehears­ing-and-talk­ing,” how Avid (the short­’s spon­sor, as it would hap­pen) facil­i­tates the  â€śheavy lift­ing” of edit­ing his footage, how he finess­es “hap­py acci­dents,” how he com­pos­es dif­fer­ent­ly for dif­fer­ent screens, and the way that “some­times things take strange routes that end up being cor­rect.” Take Lynch’s words to heart, and you, too, can enjoy his expe­ri­ence of craft­ing what he calls â€śsound and pic­ture mov­ing along in time” — with or with­out an Avid of your own.

Room to Dream will be added to our col­lec­tion, 285 Free Doc­u­men­taries Online.

via NoFilm­School

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Aki­ra Kurosawa’s 80-Minute Mas­ter Class on Mak­ing “Beau­ti­ful Movies” (2000)

David Lynch Presents the His­to­ry of Sur­re­al­ist Film (1987)

10 Tips From Bil­ly Wilder on How to Write a Good Screen­play

Tarkovsky’s Advice to Young Film­mak­ers: Sac­ri­fice Your­self for Cin­e­ma

Film­mak­ing Advice from Quentin Taran­ti­no and Sam Rai­mi (NSFW)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience Plays “Hey Joe” & “Wild Thing” on The Band’s Very First Tour: Paris, 1966

Jimi Hen­drix lived fast, and I don’t just mean to evoke a rock star cliché, but to get at the speed at which his career moved. He arrived in Eng­land near the end of Sep­tem­ber, 1966, at the ten­der age of 23. In less than a month, he and his man­ag­er Chas Chan­dler had recruit­ed Noel Red­ding and Mitch Mitchell into the Expe­ri­ence and booked the band’s first gig on Octo­ber 13 across the chan­nel in Évreux, France, one of four French book­ings as a sup­port­ing act for The Black­birds and John­ny Hal­ly­day. They played most­ly cov­ers, includ­ing Howl­in’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor,” Otis Redding’s “Respect,” Don Covay’s “Mer­cy, Mer­cy,” and Chris Kenner’s “Land of a Thou­sand Dances,” and tra­di­tion­al song “Hey Joe,” soon to become the band’s first sin­gle. It’s unclear whether any­one record­ed that first gig, but we do have some audio of the fourth, on Octo­ber 18 at the Olympia in Paris. Just above hear them play “Hey Joe” from that night, and below, they do The Trog­gs’ “Wild Thing.”

Hen­drix was already a high­ly sea­soned per­former by this time, hav­ing blown minds all over the South while tour­ing with, among oth­ers, the Isley Broth­ers, Lit­tle Richard, and King Cur­tis in the ear­ly six­ties. He had been high­ly in demand as a back­ing and ses­sion play­er, but he grew tired of stand­ing in the back and want­ed to go solo. He met man­ag­er Chan­dler, then bassist for the Ani­mals, while fronting his own band in New York. Chan­dler, writes PRI, “knew just what to do with the young gui­tarist” upon their arrival in Eng­land.

Six days after the short tour through France, the band played its first offi­cial show in the UK, at the Scotch of St. James, where the Bea­t­les had a pri­vate booth. Hen­drix pro­ceed­ed to blow minds all over Eng­land, includ­ing, of course, those of all the British gui­tar greats: “Everyone’s eyes were glued to him,” remem­bers then girl­friend Kathy Etch­ing­ham, “He looked dif­fer­ent. His gui­tar play­ing was superb. Peo­ple in Eng­land hadn’t seen any­thing like it before. It was quite… out of this world.”

Peo­ple in the U.S. hadn’t seen any­thing like it either. While Hen­drix had honed many of his sig­na­ture stage tricks on the soul cir­cuit, by the time he appeared at the Mon­terey Pop Fes­ti­val in 1967, he had ful­ly come into his own as a charis­mat­ic singer as well as a “near mirac­u­lous” gui­tarist. But in his move from R&B to rock and roll, he nev­er lost his blues roots. “Hen­drix wasn’t a typ­i­cal pop or rock musi­cian,” says Hen­drix schol­ar and Eng­lish pro­fes­sor Joel Brat­tin. He “was an impro­vis­er. So, if there are 100 dif­fer­ent record­ed ver­sions of Pur­ple Haze, it’s real­ly worth lis­ten­ing to all 100 because he does some­thing dif­fer­ent each time.” The same can be said of the songs he cov­ered, and made his own. Just above, see them play “Hey Joe” at The Mar­quee for Ger­man TV show Beat Club just months before the release of their 1967 debut album. And below, Hen­drix exhorts the crowd to sing along before launch­ing into “Wild Thing,” in a Paris appear­ance one full year after the record­ing above at the Olympia. Com­pare, con­trast, get your mind blown.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

See Jimi Hendrix’s First TV Appear­ance, and His Last as a Back­ing Musi­cian (1965)

Jimi Hen­drix at Wood­stock: The Com­plete Per­for­mance in Video & Audio (1969)

Jimi Hendrix’s Final Inter­view Ani­mat­ed (1970)

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

Stephen Fry Reads You Have To F**king Eat, the New Mock Children’s Book by Adam Mansbach

The sequel to Adam Mans­bach’s best-sell­ing mock children’s book, Go the F**k to Sleep is out. Say hel­lo to You Have to F**king Eat.

As men­tioned last week, you can down­load a free audio ver­sion read by Break­ing Bad star Bryan Cranston over at Audible.com through Decem­ber 12th. This week, we present a slight­ly more posh ver­sion read by Stephen Fry — the very same Stephen Fry who nar­rat­ed the UK ver­sion of the Har­ry Pot­ter series, not to men­tion an audio ver­sion of Oscar Wilde’s children’s sto­ry “The Hap­py Prince.”  Find more Fry favorites below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Fry: What I Wish I Knew When I Was 18

Stephen Fry Explains Human­ism in 4 Ani­mat­ed Videos: Hap­pi­ness, Truth and the Mean­ing of Life & Death

Shakespeare’s Satir­i­cal Son­net 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

Mahatma Gandhi’s List of the 7 Social Sins; or Tips on How to Avoid Living the Bad Life

gandhi-social-sins

In 590 AD, Pope Gre­go­ry I unveiled a list of the Sev­en Dead­ly Sins – lust, glut­tony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride – as a way to keep the flock from stray­ing into the thorny fields of ungod­li­ness. These days though, for all but the most devout, Pope Gregory’s list seems less like a means to moral behav­ior than a descrip­tion of cable TV pro­gram­ming.

So instead, let’s look to one of the saints of the 20th Cen­tu­ry — Mahat­ma Gand­hi. On Octo­ber 22, 1925, Gand­hi pub­lished a list he called the Sev­en Social Sins in his week­ly news­pa­per Young India.

  • Pol­i­tics with­out prin­ci­ples.
  • Wealth with­out work.
  • Plea­sure with­out con­science.
  • Knowl­edge with­out char­ac­ter.
  • Com­merce with­out moral­i­ty.
  • Sci­ence with­out human­i­ty.
  • Wor­ship with­out sac­ri­fice.

The list sprung from a cor­re­spon­dence that Gand­hi had with some­one only iden­ti­fied as a “fair friend.” He pub­lished the list with­out com­men­tary save for the fol­low­ing line: “Nat­u­ral­ly, the friend does not want the read­ers to know these things mere­ly through the intel­lect but to know them through the heart so as to avoid them.”

Unlike the Catholic Church’s list, Gandhi’s list is express­ly focused on the con­duct of the indi­vid­ual in soci­ety. Gand­hi preached non-vio­lence and inter­de­pen­dence and every sin­gle one of these sins are exam­ples of self­ish­ness win­ning out over the com­mon good.

It’s also a list that, if ful­ly absorbed, will make the folks over at the US Cham­ber of Com­merce and Ayn Rand Insti­tute itch. After all, “Wealth with­out work,” is a pret­ty accu­rate descrip­tion of America’s 1%. (Invest­ments ain’t work. Ask Thomas Piket­ty.) “Com­merce with­out moral­i­ty” sounds a lot like every sin­gle oil com­pa­ny out there and “knowl­edge with­out char­ac­ter” describes half the hacks on cable news. “Pol­i­tics with­out prin­ci­ples” describes the oth­er half.

In 1947, Gand­hi gave his fifth grand­son, Arun Gand­hi, a slip of paper with this same list on it, say­ing that it con­tained “the sev­en blun­ders that human soci­ety com­mits, and that cause all the vio­lence.” The next day, Arun returned to his home in South Africa. Three months lat­er, Gand­hi was shot to death by a Hin­du extrem­ist.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Albert Ein­stein Express­es His Admi­ra­tion for Mahat­ma Gand­hi, in Let­ter and Audio

Mahat­ma Gand­hi Talks (in First Record­ed Video)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

Hear Aldous Huxley Read Brave New World. Plus 84 Classic Radio Dramas from CBS Radio Workshop (1956–57)

Huxley

We are, it appears, in the midst of a “pod­cast­ing renais­sance,” as Col­in Mar­shall has recent­ly point­ed out. And yet, like him, I too was unaware that “pod­cast­ing had gone into a dark age.” Nev­er­the­less, its cur­rent popularity—in an age of ubiq­ui­tous screen tech­nol­o­gy and per­pet­u­al visu­al spectacle—speaks to some­thing deep with­in us, I think. Oral sto­ry­telling, as old as human speech, will nev­er go out of style. Only the medi­um changes, and even then, seem­ing­ly not all that much.

cbs-radio-workshop

But the dif­fer­ences between this gold­en age of pod­cast­ing and the gold­en age of radio are still sig­nif­i­cant. Where the pod­cast is often off-the-cuff, and often very inti­mate and personal—sometimes seen as “too per­son­al,” as Col­in writes—radio pro­grams were almost always care­ful­ly script­ed and fea­tured pro­fes­sion­al tal­ent. Even those pro­grams with man-on-the street fea­tures or inter­views with ordi­nary folks were care­ful­ly orches­trat­ed and medi­at­ed by pro­duc­ers, actors, and pre­sen­ters. And the busi­ness of scor­ing music and sound effects for radio pro­grams was a very seri­ous one indeed. All of these formalities—in addi­tion to the lim­it­ed fre­quen­cy range of old ana­log record­ing technology—contribute to what we imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nize as the sound of “old time radio.” It is a quaint sound, but also one with a cer­tain grav­i­tas, an echo of a bygone age.

That gold­en age waned as tele­vi­sion came into its own in the mid-fifties, but near its end, some broad­cast com­pa­nies made every effort to put togeth­er the high­est qual­i­ty radio pro­gram­ming they could in order to retain their audi­ence. One such pro­gram, the CBS Radio Work­shop, which ran from Jan­u­ary, 1956 to Sep­tem­ber, 1957, may have been “too lit­tle too late”—as radio preser­va­tion­ist site Dig­i­tal Deli writes—but it nonethe­less was “every bit as inno­v­a­tive and cut­ting edge” as the pro­grams that came before it. The first two episodes, right below, were drama­ti­za­tions of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, read by the author him­self. (Find it also on Spo­ti­fy here.) The series’ remain­ing 84 pro­grams drew from the work of Antoine de Saint-ExupĂ©ry, James Thurber, H.L. Menck­en, Mark Twain, Robert Hein­lein, Eugene O’Neil, Balzac, Carl Sand­burg, and so many more. It also fea­tured orig­i­nal com­e­dy, dra­ma, music, and This Amer­i­can Life-style pro­files and sto­ry­telling.

Hux­ley returned in pro­gram #12, with a sto­ry called “Jacob’s Hands,” writ­ten in col­lab­o­ra­tion with and read by Christo­pher Ish­er­wood. The great Ray Brad­bury made an appear­ance, in pro­gram #4, intro­duc­ing his sto­ries “Sea­son of Dis­be­lief” and “Hail and Farewell,” read by John Dehn­er and Sta­cy Har­ris, and scored by future film and TV com­pos­er Jer­ry Gold­smith. Oth­er pro­grams, like #10, “The Exur­ban­ites,” nar­rat­ed by famous war cor­re­spon­dent Eric Sevareid, con­duct­ed prob­ing inves­ti­ga­tions of mod­ern life—in this case the growth of sub­ur­bia and its rela­tion­ship to the adver­tis­ing indus­try. The above is but a tiny sam­pling of the wealth of qual­i­ty pro­gram­ming the CBS Radio Work­shop pro­duced, and you can hear all of it—all 86 episodes—courtesy of the Inter­net Archive.

Sam­ple stream­ing episodes in the play­er above, or down­load indi­vid­ual pro­grams as MP3s and enjoy them at your leisure, almost like, well, a pod­cast. See Dig­i­tal Deli for a com­plete run­down of each program’s con­tent and cast, as well as an exten­sive his­to­ry of the series. This is the swan song of gold­en age radio, which, it seems, maybe nev­er real­ly left, giv­en the incred­i­ble num­ber of lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ences we still have at our dis­pos­al. Yes, some­day our pod­casts will sound quaint and curi­ous to the ears of more advanced lis­ten­ers, but even then, I’d bet, peo­ple will still be telling and record­ing sto­ries, and the sound of human voic­es will con­tin­ue to cap­ti­vate us as it always has.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dimen­sion X: The 1950s Sci­Fi Radio Show That Dra­ma­tized Sto­ries by Asi­mov, Brad­bury, Von­negut & More

Free: Lis­ten to 298 Episodes of the Vin­tage Crime Radio Series, Drag­net

How to Lis­ten to the Radio: The BBC’s 1930 Man­u­al for Using a New Tech­nol­o­gy

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

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