Watch Alfred Hitchcock Make Cameo Appearances in 37 of His Films

It may sound redun­dant, but to many peo­ple a Hitch­cock film would not be a Hitch­cock film with­out Hitch­cock. By this I mean not only Hitchcock’s mas­ter­ful com­mand of light and shad­ow, cam­era move­ment, and edit­ing, but also the brief, wit­ty appear­ances of the man him­self, in front of the cam­era.

Of course we have the droll intro of the great direc­tor’s own TV show, with his sil­hou­ette slid­ing into a car­toon of his jow­ly pro­file. We also have the chance to spot him near­ly every­where else in his body of work since he appears—as a bystander or as some form of com­ic relief—in 37 of his films: from 1927’s The Lodger to 1976’s Fam­i­ly Plot. In this last cameo, as you can see below, he appears again in sil­hou­ette.


At the top of the post, you can watch a super­cut of all 37 of these cameos. And see a com­plete list, with descrip­tions, at Wikipedia. AMC’s Tim Dirks tells us of “two recur­ring themes” in Hitchcock’s film appear­ances: “(1) Hitch­cock often car­ried a musi­cal instru­ment, and (2) Hitch­cock often used pub­lic trans­porta­tion (bus­es, trains, etc.), and was seen as a casu­al pass­er-by in the crowd in the pub­lic place (train sta­tions, at an air­port, etc.). Most of the cameos appeared ear­ly in the film, and often there was a bit of mild humor in the appear­ance.” Though they may seem nar­cis­sis­tic, Hitch­cock promised the cameos were for the sake of his fans, who cer­tain­ly appre­ci­at­ed the recur­ring trade­mark. “I always give a lit­tle thought to my appear­ances,” said the direc­tor in a 1966 inter­view, “and come on as ear­ly as possible—don’t want to hold them in sus­pense!”


The Hitch­cock cameos began by acci­dent, writes Mys­teryNet, when, “short an actor in one of his first films, Hitch­cock took it upon him­self to play the small part.” In this movie, The Lodger (watch it online), Hitch­cock actu­al­ly appears twice—as a news­room clerk and again lat­er in a crowd. He would make two appear­ances in three more films: Sus­pi­cion, Rope, and Under Capri­corn. Most of his cameos are very brief, some shot at a dis­tance, and oth­ers with his back to the cam­era. To spot Hitch­cock in your favorite of his films [you can watch 23 for free in our col­lec­tion of Free Hitch­cock films], see AMC’s com­plete list, which fea­tures thumb­nails and approx­i­ma­tions of how many min­utes into the film he appears. Also don’t miss The Tele­graph’s com­pre­hen­sive gallery of stills of Hitchcock’s cameos, like that of his Rear Win­dow appear­ance above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

23 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online 

1000 Frames of Hitch­cock: See Each of Alfred Hitchcock’s 52 Films Reduced to 1,000 Artis­tic Frames

Alfred Hitchcock’s Rules for Watch­ing Psy­cho (1960)

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

JS Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier Artistically Animated with Pulsing Neon Lights

The Well-Tem­pered Clavier, com­posed by JS Bach between 1722 and 1742, remains one of the most inno­v­a­tive and influ­en­tial works in the his­to­ry of West­ern clas­si­cal music. A web­site from North­ern Ari­zona State U. sums up what essen­tial­ly made Bach’s com­po­si­tion — a col­lec­tion of 48 pre­ludes and fugues spread across two vol­umes — so inno­v­a­tive, so influ­en­tial.

One of Bach’s pri­ma­ry pur­pos­es in com­pos­ing these cycles was to demon­strate the fea­si­bil­i­ty of the “well tem­pered” tun­ing sys­tem that would allow for com­po­si­tion in every key.

Anoth­er pur­pose of the Well-Tem­pered Clavier was to reveal how mod­ern and pro­gres­sive com­po­si­tion could be informed by con­ser­v­a­tive ideas. The Well-Tem­pered Clavier is an ency­clo­pe­dia of nation­al and his­tor­i­cal styles and idioms. Its influ­ences range from the white-note style of the Renais­sance motet to the French manier. Iron­i­cal­ly, half of this styl­is­tic smor­gas­bord is expressed in fugue, a form that was out of date upon the cycle’s com­ple­tion. Bach was of course aware of this. His hope was to defend the ven­er­a­ble form by demon­strat­ing how it could absorb con­tem­po­rary fla­vors.

If you’ve nev­er expe­ri­enced Bach’s piece, then I’d encour­age you to lis­ten to the 1960s record­ing by Glenn Gould. Or watch a sec­tion of the piece being per­formed on the All of Bach web­site — a site that will even­tu­al­ly put 1080 Bach per­for­mances online, for free.

Above, we have some­thing a lit­tle dif­fer­ent. Cre­at­ed by direc­tor and visu­al artist Alan War­bur­ton, this new­ly-released video takes a famous sec­tion of Bach’s com­po­si­tion and ani­mates it with puls­ing neon lights. Describ­ing what went into mak­ing this video, the Sin­fi­ni Music web­site writes:

Alan’s incred­i­ble design incor­po­rat­ed many thou­sands of sep­a­rate CGI lights, every one of which had to be tai­lored to the pre­cise dura­tion of Pierre-Lau­rent Aimard’s note strikes. ‘I need­ed to find a way of automat­ing the process of these turn­ing on and off in time with the music,’ says Alan. With no midi file of the per­for­mance avail­able, he was faced with the seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble task of match­ing every note of a stand-in midi file to the record­ing, by ear alone…

Then it was a ques­tion of ren­der­ing the ani­mat­ed data in CGI with­in the vir­tu­al space cre­at­ed espe­cial­ly for the ani­ma­tion. This too, was no mean feat, even for the army of cloud-based com­put­ers that had a hand in the task. Each frame took 15 min­utes to ren­der because of the thou­sands of cal­cu­la­tions involved in acti­vat­ing each light as well as the shad­ows, glows and reflec­tions required to make the scene look tru­ly life-like.

Sin­fi­ni Music, which com­mis­sioned this project, has more on War­bur­ton’s cre­ation here.

Hope this gets your week­end start­ed on the right, er, note.

via The Kids Should See This

Relat­ed Con­tent:

All of Bach Is Putting Videos of 1,080 Bach Per­for­mances Online

A Big Bach Down­load: All of Bach’s Organ Works for Free

The Genius of J.S. Bach’s “Crab Canon” Visu­al­ized on a Möbius Strip

Virginia Woolf’s Haunting Suicide Note Read by Actress Louise Brealey

A few weeks ago, we fea­tured Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch’s read­ing of the let­ter Alan Tur­ing (whom Cum­ber­batch por­trayed in last year’s The Imi­ta­tion Game) wrote before his 1952 con­vic­tion of “gross inde­cen­cy.” It came from Let­ters Live, “a series of live events cel­e­brat­ing the pow­er of lit­er­ary cor­re­spon­dence” put on by pub­lish­er Canon­gate and Cum­ber­batch’s pro­duc­tion com­pa­ny Sun­ny­March and “inspired by Shaun Ush­er’s Let­ters of Note” — a site Open Cul­ture read­ers sure­ly know well by now.

Back in 2013, Josh Jones wrote a post here on Vir­ginia Woolf’s hand­writ­ten 1941 sui­cide note, “a haunt­ing and beau­ti­ful doc­u­ment, in all its unadorned sin­cer­i­ty behind which much tur­moil and anguish lie.” Hav­ing seen that note, per­haps you’d also like to hear it per­formed. If so, you’ll want to watch the Let­ters Live video at the top of the post, which offers an inter­pre­ta­tion of the To the Light­house author’s dec­la­ra­tion that “I can’t fight any longer” by Cum­ber­batch’s Sher­lock co-star Louise Brealey.

If you haven’t had your fill of lit­er­ary cor­re­spon­dence read aloud by these not­ed British per­form­ers, do pay a vis­it to Let­ters Live’s Youtube page, where you can also hear Brealey read­ing let­ters from Bessie Moore and Clemen­tine Churchill as well as Cum­ber­batch read­ing let­ters from Chris Bark­er and more from Alan Tur­ing. Watch­ing inter­net videos of live per­for­mances of tra­di­tion­al let­ters — the mind may reel at all these simul­ta­ne­ous lay­ers of medi­a­tion and inter­pre­ta­tion, but the pieces of cor­re­spon­dence cho­sen still speak straight to the heart.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vir­ginia Woolf’s Hand­writ­ten Sui­cide Note: A Painful and Poignant Farewell (1941)

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

James Joyce’s Dirty Love Let­ters Read Aloud by Mar­tin Starr, Paget Brew­ster & Oth­er TV Com­e­dy Actors (NSFW)

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Frida Kahlo’s Colorful Clothes Revealed for the First Time & Photographed by Ishiuchi Miyako

Frida 1

Imag­ine the dress up fun we could have in Grandma’s attic, if Grand­ma were Fri­da Kahlo (1907 – 1954) and the attic was a sealed off Mex­i­co City bath­room where Grand­pa — artist Diego Rivera, natch — had stashed all her stuff.

Yel­low-laced scar­let booties trimmed with beads!


A glam­orous, rot­ting swim­suit and an extreme­ly famil­iar-look­ing tra­di­tion­al Tehua­na head­dress!

A saucy pros­thet­ic leg! A skirt­ed body cast embell­ished with hand-paint­ed ham­mer and sick­le.


Now let us take a minute to live vic­ar­i­ous­ly through pho­tog­ra­ph­er Ishi­uchi Miyako, whose pre­vi­ous sub­jects have includ­ed the cloth­ing of her late moth­er and vic­tims of the atom­ic bomb­ing of Hiroshi­ma. In 2004, the Museo Fri­da Kahlo’s staff start­ed orga­niz­ing Frida’s per­son­al effects. Rivera (1886–1957) had stored them in the afore­men­tioned Mex­i­co city bath­room, along with instruc­tions that the room should remain sealed for a peri­od of 15 years fol­low­ing his death. In 2011, the muse­um invit­ed Miyako in to doc­u­ment the far-from-mint con­di­tion relics, almost 300 in total.

frida glasses

“If I met her, I wouldn’t ask any ques­tions,” the pho­tog­ra­ph­er avowed in an inter­view with AnOth­er Mag­a­zine. “I would only want to stare at her and touch her body.”

There is an inti­ma­cy to her gaze that sug­gests this state­ment might be true. Rarely have a cou­ple of bot­tles of dried up nail pol­ish exud­ed such sen­su­al­i­ty.

Miyako’s Fri­da pho­tographs have been col­lect­ed in a book, and can be seen in the flesh in London’s Michael Hop­pen Gallery through mid-July.

via Patron of the Arts

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1933 Arti­cle on Fri­da Kahlo: “Wife of the Mas­ter Mur­al Painter Glee­ful­ly Dab­bles in Works of Art”

Fri­da Kahlo Writes a Per­son­al Let­ter to Geor­gia O’Keeffe After O’Keeffe’s Ner­vous Break­down (1933)

Pho­tos of a Very Young Fri­da Kahlo, Tak­en by Her Dad

Fri­da Kahlo and Diego Rivera Vis­it Leon Trot­sky in Mex­i­co, 1938

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

The Absurd Philosophy of Albert Camus Presented in a Short Animated Film by Alain De Botton

What is the mean­ing of life? This may sound sim­plis­tic or naïve, espe­cial­ly in rela­tion to much con­tem­po­rary phi­los­o­phy, which assumes the ques­tion is inco­her­ent and reserves its focus for small­er and small­er slices of expe­ri­ence. And, of course, pri­or to the rise of sec­u­lar moder­ni­ty, the ques­tion was answered for us—and still is for a great many people—by reli­gion. One either believed the answer, through coer­cion or oth­er­wise, or kept qui­et about it. But at least since Søren Kierkegaard, philoso­phers in the West have tak­en the ques­tion very seri­ous­ly, and found all of the answers want­i­ng. By the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, there seemed to thinkers like Albert Camus to be no answer. Life has no mean­ing. It is inher­ent­ly absurd and pur­pose­less.

This Camus con­clud­ed in chal­leng­ing essays like “The Myth of Sisy­phus” and nov­els like L’Etranger, a book most of us know as The Stranger but which Alain de Bot­ton, in his School of Life video above on Camus’ phi­los­o­phy, trans­lates as The Out­sider. Read­ing this book, de Bot­ton observes, “has long been an ado­les­cent rite of pas­sage” since many of its themes “are first tack­led at sev­en­teen or so.” Its pro­tag­o­nist, Meur­sault, an old­er, more nihilis­tic ver­sion of Hold­en Caulfield, illus­trates Camus’ the­sis through his stead­fast refusal to iden­ti­fy with any mean­ing-mak­ing insti­tu­tions or emo­tions, and through a casu­al, sense­less mur­der. But while Meur­sault may see through the pre­ten­sions of his soci­ety, he has failed to see the world as it is.

Col­in Wil­son, anoth­er author many peo­ple read dur­ing intel­lec­tu­al­ly for­ma­tive years—who wrote an exis­ten­tial­ist study also called The Out­sider—describes Meursault’s indif­fer­ence to life as a prod­uct of “his sense of unre­al­i­ty.” Only the loom­ing prospect of death awak­ens him from what Meur­sault calls “a heavy grime of unre­al­i­ty.” Instead of despair­ing at life’s empti­ness, Camus deter­mined that true free­dom required engag­ing ful­ly with life, in the face of futility—with the ulti­mate prospect of death and the option of sui­cide always in view. Camus, says de Bot­ton, “writes with excep­tion­al inten­si­ty… as a guide for the rea­sons to live.” De Bot­ton some­what super­fi­cial­ly prais­es Camus’ sex­u­al prowess, fash­ion sense, and good looks as more than just “styl­is­tic quirks,” but as mark­ers of his psy­cho­log­i­cal health.

But more than just a ladies man, Camus was a “great cham­pi­on of the ordi­nary,” as well as a cham­pi­on foot­baller and Nobel prize-win­ning lit­er­ary star. He was also a ful­ly com­mit­ted jour­nal­ist and polit­i­cal activist for much of his career, who stood by his indi­vid­ual prin­ci­ples even as oth­er left­ist intel­lec­tu­als got swept up in the allure of Sovi­et com­mu­nism under Stal­in. In the doc­u­men­tary above, we learn impor­tant details of many of these qual­i­ties, as well of Camus’ trou­bled ear­ly life. Giv­en his back­ground of impov­er­ish­ment and loss, it is indeed remark­able that Camus—much more so than oth­er, more priv­i­leged philosophers—lived such a rich, ful­ly engaged life.

In a rare tele­vi­sion inter­view above, Camus answers ques­tions about his the­atri­cal adap­ta­tion of Dostoevsky’s The Pos­sessed, anoth­er nov­el that con­fronts head on the ques­tion of life’s mean­ing. He speaks of the novel’s “nihilism,” now “the real­i­ty that we have to face.” Camus does not men­tion that Dos­toyevsky, like the exis­ten­tial­ist Kierkegaard, man­aged to sal­vage a kind of reli­gious faith in the face of empti­ness; the French philoso­pher and writer was con­vinced of the impos­si­bil­i­ty of such a thing. But whether one draws Dos­to­evsky or Camus’ con­clu­sions, both would sug­gest that to live authen­ti­cal­ly, one must seri­ous­ly grap­ple with the prob­lem of mean­ing­less­ness and the real­i­ty of death.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Albert Camus Deliv­er His Nobel Prize Accep­tance Speech (1957)

Albert Camus: Soc­cer Goalie

Exis­ten­tial Phi­los­o­phy of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Camus Explained with 8‑Bit Video Games

Niet­zsche, Wittgen­stein & Sartre Explained with Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tions by The School of Life

Down­load 130 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es: Tools for Think­ing About Life, Death & Every­thing Between

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

Watch Chris Burden Get Shot for the Sake of Art (1971)

Chris Bur­den passed away on May 10 and here at Open Cul­ture we hon­ored him with a post about his odd­ly hilar­i­ous late night 1970s TV com­mer­cials. But before that, Bur­den entered the pub­lic con­scious­ness with one of his ballsi­est and insane per­for­mance pieces.

“Shoot” (1971) con­sist­ed of the 25-year-old Bur­den being shot in the arm at close range by a friend wield­ing a rifle. A few inch­es off, and Bur­den would have prob­a­bly died. Instead, as we see in the orig­i­nal piece above, he walks off very quick­ly, more in shock than pain. His inten­tion was to be grazed by the bul­let. It went a lit­tle deep­er.

As Bur­den points out in the video, only eight sec­onds of the brief piece exists. It was filmed, Novem­ber 19, 1971 in a small gallery in San­ta Ana, CA called “F Space,” a few doors down from Burden’s stu­dio, with only a few friends in atten­dance. He had pre­vi­ous­ly announced his inten­tion to be shot for art to the edi­tors of an avant-garde art jour­nal called Avalanche.

The video and Burden’s com­men­tary on the miss­ing footage is now what con­sti­tutes the piece. He urges us to lis­ten for the sound of the emp­ty shell hit­ting the ground. “In this instant I was a sculp­ture,” Bur­den lat­er said. Jour­nal­ists at the time won­dered if Bur­den would make it to 30. Dou­glas Davis in Newsweek called him “the Evel Kniev­el of art.”

Com­ing at the height of the Viet­nam War, the piece is about many things: trust, vio­lence, the lim­its and risks of art, the role of the audi­ence, the brav­ery of artists com­pared to the duty of sol­diers. The video is now part of the MoMA and Whit­ney col­lec­tions.

The New York Times com­mis­sioned this new short doc about the work and tracked down the marks­man, one of Burden’s friends, whose iden­ti­ty had remained a secret until now. For­tu­nate­ly, Bur­den is also in the video, and gives the last word:

“I think a lot of those per­for­mance works were an attempt to con­trol fate or some­thing,” Bur­den says. “Or giv­ing you the illu­sion that you can con­trol fate.”

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed con­tent:

John Baldessari’s “I Will Not Make Any More Bor­ing Art”: A 1971 Con­cep­tu­al Art Piece/DIY Art Courset

Metrop­o­lis II: Chris Burden’s Amaz­ing, Fre­net­ic Mini-City

Yoko Ono Lets Audi­ence Cut Up Her Clothes in Con­cep­tu­al Art Per­for­mance (Carnegie Hall, 1965)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at and/or watch his films here.

Patti Smith’s Polaroids of Artifacts from Virginia Woolf, Arthur Rimbaud, Roberto Bolaño & More


Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy has seen a new wave of inter­est over the past decade, in large part from young pho­tog­ra­phers look­ing to do some­thing dif­fer­ent from what they can with the dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy on which they grew up.

The oth­er mod­ern prac­ti­tion­ers include no less a cre­ator than Pat­ti Smith, who have per­son­al­ly wit­nessed the for­mat’s appear­ance, fade, and return. A few years ago, her Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy reached the gal­leries, becom­ing shows and instal­la­tions in Con­necti­cut and Paris.

"Walt Whitman's Tomb, Camden, NJ"

These “black-and-white sil­ver gelatin prints made from Polaroid neg­a­tives, small and square and in soft focus,” writes the New York Times’ A.O. Scott, “are culled from a col­lec­tion that doc­u­ments hun­dreds of encoun­ters with world­ly effects trans­formed into sacred relics. A fork and a spoon that belonged to Arthur Rim­baud, the French sym­bol­ist poet who has been one of Smith’s touch­stones for­ev­er. [Robert] Mapplethorpe’s bed­room slip­pers and the tam­bourine he made for Smith. A chair that belonged to the Chilean nov­el­ist Rober­to Bolaño. William S. Burroughs’s ban­dan­na. A repli­ca of a life mask cast from the fea­tures of William Blake.”

Virginia Woolf’s bed, writing desk, and gravestone

Smith’s “gor­geous, misty pho­tographs are inspired by arti­facts from some of Smith’s favorite artists, from muse­ums she has vis­it­ed around the world, and many are from her per­son­al life,” writes Fla­vor­wire’s Emi­ly Tem­ple on “Cam­era Solo,” the Hart­ford exhi­bi­tion which intro­duced these Polaroids to Amer­i­ca in 2011. If you did­n’t make it to the Wadsworth Atheneum for that show, you can still expe­ri­ence it through Pat­ti Smith: Cam­era Solo, its com­pan­ion book. Or have a look at her work on dis­play at the BBC’s site, the gallery that offers the pho­tos of Vir­ginia Woolf’s bed, writ­ing desk, and grave­stone just above.


You can see even more at this post from Lens Cul­ture on “Land 250,” the exhi­bi­tion of Smith’s Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy at Paris’ Fon­da­tion Cartier.“I first took Polaroids in the ear­ly 1970s as com­po­nents for col­lages,” it quotes Smith as say­ing. “In 1995, after the death of my hus­band, I was unable to cen­ter on the com­plex process of draw­ing, record­ing or writ­ing a poem. The need for imme­di­a­cy drew me again to the Polaroid. I chose a vin­tage Land 100.” In 2002, she set­tled on the Land 250, the ven­er­a­ble instant cam­era that gave the Paris show and its asso­ci­at­ed mono­graph their titles. It sure­ly counts as one of the most impor­tant arti­facts of Smith’s artis­tic life — and one with which she has cap­tured the arti­facts of so many oth­er artis­tic lives impor­tant to her.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

Pat­ti Smith Reads Her Final Words to Robert Map­plethor­pe

Pat­ti Smith’s List of Favorite Books: From Rim­baud to Susan Son­tag

Andy Warhol’s 85 Polaroid Por­traits: Mick Jag­ger, Yoko Ono, O.J. Simp­son & Many Oth­ers (1970–1987)

The Mas­ter­ful Polaroid Pic­tures Tak­en by Film­mak­er Andrei Tarkovsky

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The First Trailer for the Upcoming David Foster Wallace Film Is Now Online

Heads up David Fos­ter Wal­lace fans. Yes­ter­day, A24 Films released a trail­er for The End of the Tour, James Ponsoldt’s upcom­ing film which stars Jason Segel as David Fos­ter Wal­lace, and Jesse Eisen­berg as Rolling Stone jour­nal­ist David Lip­sky. The film is based on Lip­sky’s 2010 mem­oir, Although of Course You End Up Becom­ing Your­selfwhich doc­u­ments the five-day road trip Lip­sky took with Wal­lace in 1996, just as Wal­lace was com­plet­ing the book tour for his break­out nov­el Infi­nite Jest.

You might know Jason Segel from lighter and often hilar­i­ous com­e­dy films like For­get­ting Sarah Mar­shall and Knocked Up. When The End of the Tour hits the­aters on July 31st, you’ll see him inhab­it­ing a very dif­fer­ent kind of role.

When you’re done watch­ing the trail­er above, you can see the real David Fos­ter Wal­lace in Big, Uncut Inter­view record­ed in 2003. It makes for an inter­est­ing com­par­i­son.

via Vari­ety

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Fos­ter Wallace’s 1994 Syl­labus: How to Teach Seri­ous Lit­er­a­ture with Light­weight Books

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

‘This Is Water’: Com­plete Audio of David Fos­ter Wallace’s Keny­on Grad­u­a­tion Speech (2005)

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.