Ralph Steadman’s Hellish Illustrations for Ray Bradbury’s Classic Dystopian Novel, Fahrenheit 451

Hunter S. Thomp­son and Ray Brad­bury would at first seem to have lit­tle in com­mon, oth­er than hav­ing made their liv­ings by the pen. Or rather, both of them hav­ing devel­oped as writ­ers in the mid-20th cen­tu­ry, by the typewriter–though Thomp­son famous­ly shot his and a young Brad­bury once had to rent one for ten cents per hour at UCLA’s library. In one nine-day rental in the ear­ly 1950s, Brad­bury typed up Fahren­heit 451, still his best-known work and one whose cen­tral idea, that of a future soci­ety that method­i­cal­ly destroys all books, has stayed com­pelling almost 65 years after its first pub­li­ca­tion.

Thomp­son’s best-known work, 1971’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, deals in dif­fer­ent kinds of fright­en­ing visions, some of them brought to illus­trat­ed life by the Eng­lish artist Ralph Stead­man. Thir­ty years lat­er years lat­er and with his name long since made by his col­lab­o­ra­tion with Thomp­son, Stead­man would bring his tal­ents to Brad­bury’s dystopia. Brain Pick­ings’ Maria Popo­va quotes him describ­ing the theme of Fahren­heit 451 as “vital­ly impor­tant.” Accord­ing to Dan­ger­ous Minds’ Paul Gal­lagher, when Brad­bury saw Stead­man’s illus­tra­tions, com­mis­sioned for a lim­it­ed edi­tion of the book around its fifti­eth anniver­sary, he said to the artist, “You’ve brought my book into the 21st cen­tu­ry.”

Stead­man repaid the com­pli­ment when he said that he con­sid­ers Fahren­heit 451 “as impor­tant as 1984 and Ani­mal Farm as real pow­er­ful social com­ment,” and he should know, hav­ing pre­vi­ous­ly poured his artis­tic ener­gies into a 1995 edi­tion of George Orwell’s decep­tive­ly sim­ple alle­go­ry of the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion and its con­se­quences. More than a few of us would no doubt love to see what Stead­man could do with 1984 here in the 21st cen­tu­ry, a time when we’ve hard­ly extin­guished the soci­etal dan­gers of which Orwell, or Brad­bury, or indeed Thomp­son, tried, each in his dis­tinc­tive lit­er­ary way, to warn us. Book-burn­ing may remain a fringe pur­suit, but the fight against thought con­trol in its infi­nite forms demands con­stant vig­i­lance — and no small amount of imag­i­na­tion.

You can see more illus­tra­tions of Fahren­heit 451 at Brain Pick­ings and Dan­ger­ous Minds. Also, you can pur­chase used copies of the lim­it­ed print edi­tion online, though they seem quite rare at this point. Edi­tions can be found on AbeBooks–for exam­ple here and here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ray Brad­bury Reveals the True Mean­ing of Fahren­heit 451: It’s Not About Cen­sor­ship, But Peo­ple “Being Turned Into Morons by TV”

To Read This Exper­i­men­tal Edi­tion of Ray Bradbury’s Fahren­heit 451, You’ll Need to Add Heat to the Pages

Gonzo Illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man Draws the Amer­i­can Pres­i­dents, from Nixon to Trump

Ralph Steadman’s Sur­re­al­ist Illus­tra­tions of George Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm (1995)

How Hunter S. Thomp­son — and Psilo­cy­bin — Influ­enced the Art of Ralph Stead­man, Cre­at­ing the “Gonzo” Style

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

An Oral History of the Bauhaus: Hear Rare Interviews (in English) with Walter Gropius, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe & More

Image by Detief Mewes, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

The Bauhaus, which oper­at­ed as an influ­en­tial school in Ger­many between 1919 and 1933 but lives on as a kind of aes­thet­ic ide­al, has its strongest asso­ci­a­tions with high­ly visu­al work, like tex­tiles, graph­ic design, indus­tri­al design, and espe­cial­ly archi­tec­ture. But a good deal of thought went into estab­lish­ing the kind of ratio­nal­i­ty- and func­tion­al­i­ty-ori­ent­ed philo­soph­i­cal basis that would pro­duce all that visu­al work, and you can hear some of the lead­ing lights of the Bauhaus dis­cuss it, in Eng­lish, on the record Bauhaus Reviewed: 1919 to 1933, now avail­able on Spo­ti­fy. (If you don’t have Spo­ti­fy’s soft­ware, you can down­load it here.) You can also pur­chase your own copy online.

“The bulk of the nar­ra­tive is by [Wal­ter] Gropius, an artic­u­late and pas­sion­ate advo­cate for this remark­able exper­i­ment in edu­ca­tion,” writes All Music Guide’s Stephen Eddins. “Artist Josef Albers and archi­tect [Lud­wig] Mies van der Rohe also con­tribute com­men­tary. [LTM Records founder] James Nice is cred­it­ed with ‘curat­ing’ the CD, and it must be his edit­ing that gives the album such a clear and infor­ma­tive nar­ra­tive struc­ture — one comes away with a vivid under­stand­ing of the devel­op­ment of the move­ment, both philo­soph­i­cal­ly and prag­mat­i­cal­ly.”

In between the spo­ken pas­sages on the ori­gins of the Bauhaus, form and total­i­ty, han­dling and tex­ture, utopi­anism, and oth­er top­ics besides, Bauhaus Reviewed 1919–1933 offers musi­cal com­po­si­tions by such Bauhaus-asso­ci­at­ed com­posers as Arnold Schoen­berg, Josef Matthias Hauer, and George Antheil. You can hear some of the sound from the record repur­posed in Archi­tec­ture as Lan­guage, the short about Mies by Swiss film­mak­er Alexan­dre Favre just below. In it that pio­neer of mod­ernism dis­cuss­es the Bauhaus as well as his own indi­vid­ual work, all of it inter­est­ing to any­one with an incli­na­tion toward mid­cen­tu­ry Euro­pean-Amer­i­can archi­tec­ture and design, none of it ulti­mate­ly more rel­e­vant than the final words the mas­ter speaks: “I don’t want to be inter­est­ing. I want to be good.”

via Mono­skop

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Orig­i­nal Bauhaus Books & Jour­nals for Free: Gropius, Klee, Kandin­sky, Moholy-Nagy & More

The Female Pio­neers of the Bauhaus Art Move­ment: Dis­cov­er Gertrud Arndt, Mar­i­anne Brandt, Anni Albers & Oth­er For­got­ten Inno­va­tors

32,000+ Bauhaus Art Objects Made Avail­able Online by Har­vard Muse­um Web­site

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Download New Storyboarding Software That’s Free & Open Source

Quick tip: The new soft­ware pack­age, Sto­ry­board­er, makes it “easy to visu­al­ize a sto­ry as fast you can draw stick fig­ures.” You can cre­ate a sto­ry idea with­out actu­al­ly mak­ing a full-blown movie and see how it looks. Sto­ry­board­er is free. It’s open source. It’s avail­able for Mac, Win­dows, and Lin­ux. And you can down­load it here.

As the web­site Car­toon Brew notes, the sto­ries cre­at­ed in Sto­ry­board­er “can be export­ed to Pre­miere, Final Cut, Avid, PDF, and ani­mat­ed GIF for­mats.” Or you can “refine the art­work in Pho­to­shop.”

Get Sto­ry­board­er here.

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!

via Car­toon Brew

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Google Makes Its $149 Pho­to Edit­ing Soft­ware Now Com­plete­ly Free to Down­load

NASA Puts Its Soft­ware Online & Makes It Free to Down­load

Down­load 243 Free eBooks on Design, Data, Soft­ware, Web Devel­op­ment & Busi­ness from O’Reilly Media

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Kintsugi: The Centuries-Old Japanese Craft of Repairing Pottery with Gold & Finding Beauty in Broken Things

We all grow up believ­ing we should empha­size the inher­ent pos­i­tives about our­selves. But what if we also empha­sized the neg­a­tives, the parts we’ve had to work to fix or improve? If we did it just right, would the neg­a­tives still look so neg­a­tive after all? These kinds of ques­tions come to mind when one pon­ders the tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese craft of kintsu­gi, a means of repair­ing bro­ken pot­tery that aims not for per­fec­tion, a return to “as good as new,” but for a kind of post-break­age rein­ven­tion that dares not to hide the cracks.

“Trans­lat­ed to ‘gold­en join­ery,’ Kintsu­gi (or Kintsukuroi, which means ‘gold­en repair’) is the cen­turies-old Japan­ese art of fix­ing bro­ken pot­tery with a spe­cial lac­quer dust­ed with pow­dered gold, sil­ver, or plat­inum” says My Mod­ern Met.

“Beau­ti­ful seams of gold glint in the cracks of ceram­ic ware, giv­ing a unique appear­ance to the piece. This repair method cel­e­brates each arti­fac­t’s unique his­to­ry by empha­siz­ing its frac­tures and breaks instead of hid­ing or dis­guis­ing them. Kintsu­gi often makes the repaired piece even more beau­ti­ful than the orig­i­nal, revi­tal­iz­ing it with new life.”

Kintsu­gi orig­i­nates, so one the­o­ry has it, in the late 15th cen­tu­ry under the cul­tur­al­ly inclined shogun Ashik­a­ga Yoshi­masa, dur­ing whose reign the sen­si­bil­i­ties of tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese art as we known them emerged. When Ashik­a­ga sent one of his dam­aged Chi­nese tea bowls back to his moth­er­land for repairs, it came back reassem­bled with ungain­ly met­al sta­ples. This prompt­ed his crafts­men to find a bet­ter way: why not use that gild­ed lac­quer to empha­size the cracks instead of hid­ing them? The tech­nique was said to have won the admi­ra­tion of famed (and not eas­i­ly impressed) tea mas­ter Sen no Rikyū, major pro­po­nent of the imper­fec­tion-appre­ci­at­ing aes­thet­ic wabi sabi.

You can hear and see these sto­ries of kintsug­i’s ori­gins in the videos from Nerd­writer and Alain de Bot­ton’s School of Life at the top of the post. The clip just above offers a clos­er look at the painstak­ing tech­niques of mod­ern kintsu­gi, which not only sur­vives but thrives today, hav­ing expand­ed to include oth­er mate­ri­als, repair­ing glass­ware as well as ceram­ics, for exam­ple, or fill­ing the cracks with sil­ver instead of gold. And what could under­score the cur­rent glob­al rel­e­vance of kintsu­gi more than the fact that the craft has inspired not one but two TEDTalks, the first by Audrey Har­ris in Kyoto in 2015 and the sec­ond by Mad­die Kel­ly in Ade­laide last year. We all, it seems, want to repair our cracks; kintsu­gi shows the way to do it not just hon­est­ly but art­ful­ly.

h/t the nugget

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wabi-Sabi: A Short Film on the Beau­ty of Tra­di­tion­al Japan

20 Mes­mer­iz­ing Videos of Japan­ese Arti­sans Cre­at­ing Tra­di­tion­al Hand­i­crafts

The Mak­ing of Japan­ese Hand­made Paper: A Short Film Doc­u­ments an 800-Year-Old Tra­di­tion

Watch a Japan­ese Crafts­man Lov­ing­ly Bring a Tat­tered Old Book Back to Near Mint Con­di­tion

The Art of Col­lo­type: See a Near Extinct Print­ing Tech­nique, as Lov­ing­ly Prac­ticed by a Japan­ese Mas­ter Crafts­man

Watch Japan­ese Wood­work­ing Mas­ters Cre­ate Ele­gant & Elab­o­rate Geo­met­ric Pat­terns with Wood

Japan­ese Crafts­man Spends His Life Try­ing to Recre­ate a Thou­sand-Year-Old Sword

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Your Brain on Art: The Emerging Science of Neuroaesthetics Probes What Art Does to Our Brains

If you’ve fol­lowed debates in pop­u­lar philo­soph­i­cal cir­cles, you’ve sure­ly heard the cri­tique of “sci­en­tism,” the “view that only sci­en­tif­ic claims are mean­ing­ful.” The term doesn’t apply only in defens­es of reli­gious expla­na­tions, but also of the arts and humanities—long imper­iled by sweep­ing bud­get cuts and now seem­ing­ly upend­ed by neu­ro­science.

We have the neu­ro­science of music, of lit­er­a­ture, of paint­ing, of cre­ativ­i­ty and imag­i­na­tion them­selves…. What need any­more for those pedants and obscu­ran­tists in their ivory tow­er aca­d­e­m­ic cubi­cles? Sweep them all away for bet­ter MRI machines and sta­tis­ti­cal pro­grams! Who, gasp the oppo­nents of sci­en­tism, would hold such a philis­tine view? Maybe only a straw man or two.

For those in the emerg­ing field of “neu­roaes­thet­ics,” the goal is not to vivi­sect the arts, but to observe what art—however defined—does to the brain. Neu­roaes­thet­ics, notes the Wash­ing­ton Post video above, the­o­rizes that “some of the answers to art’s mys­ter­ies can be found in the realm of sci­ence.” As Uni­ver­si­ty of Hous­ton Pro­fes­sor of Elec­tri­cal and Com­put­er Engi­neer­ing Jose Luis Con­tr­eras-Vidal puts it in the video below, “the more we under­stand the way the brain responds to the arts, the bet­ter we can under­stand our­selves.” Such under­stand­ing does not obvi­ate the mys­tery of art as, the Post writes in an accom­pa­ny­ing arti­cle, “the domain of the heart.”

The spec­ta­cle of per­form­ing artists, writ­ers, and musi­cians wear­ing skull­caps cov­ered with wires while in the midst of their cre­ative acts may look ludi­crous to us lay­folk. The Uni­ver­si­ty of Hous­ton takes this research quite seri­ous­ly, how­ev­er, appoint­ing three visu­al artists-in-res­i­dence to work along­side many oth­ers on Pro­fes­sor Contraras-Vidal’s ongo­ing neu­roaes­thet­ic projects, which also include dancers and musi­cians. In addi­tion to study­ing artists’ brains, the NSF-fund­ed project has record­ed “elec­tri­cal sig­nals in the brains of 450 indi­vid­u­als as they engaged with the work of artist Dario Rob­le­to in a pub­lic art instal­la­tion.”

The Post sum­ma­rizes some of the pos­si­ble answers offered by this kind of research: arts such as dance and the­ater stim­u­late our desire to expe­ri­ence intense emo­tions togeth­er in a group as a form of social cohe­sion. See­ing live performances—and sure­ly even films, though that par­tic­u­lar art form is slight­ed in many of these accounts—trig­gers a “neur­al rush…. With our brain’s capac­i­ty for emo­tion and empa­thy, even in the word­less art of dance we can begin to dis­cov­er meaning—and a sto­ry.” This brings us to the impor­tance our brains place on nar­ra­tive, on move­ment, the “log­ic of art” and much more.

For bet­ter or worse, neu­roaes­thet­ics is—at least at an insti­tu­tion­al level—in some com­pe­ti­tion with those branch­es of phi­los­o­phy clas­si­cal­ly con­cerned with aes­thet­ics, though often the two endeav­ors are com­ple­men­tary. But using sci­ence to inter­pret art, or inter­pret the brain on art, should in no way put the arts in jeop­ardy. Seri­ous sci­en­tif­ic curios­i­ty about the old­est and most uni­ver­sal of dis­tinc­tive­ly human activ­i­ties might instead pro­vide justification—or bet­ter yet, fund­ing and pub­lic support—for the gen­er­ous pro­duc­tion of more pub­lic art.

via The Wash­ing­ton Post

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Infor­ma­tion Over­load Robs Us of Our Cre­ativ­i­ty: What the Sci­en­tif­ic Research Shows

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

How Bud­dhism & Neu­ro­science Can Help You Change How Your Mind Works: A New Course by Best­selling Author Robert Wright

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

Tom Petty Takes You Inside His Songwriting Craft

Briefly not­ed: Give this wide-rang­ing inter­view with Tom Pet­ty some time. Record­ed in 2014, Pet­ty talks with inter­view­er Jian Ghome­shi about his song­writ­ing craft. The writ­ing of songs, the rehearsal and record­ing process, the work in the stu­dio, it all gets cov­ered here. As he talks, one thing comes across: What­ev­er tal­ents he had, Pet­ty put in the hard work. He and the Heart­break­ers mas­tered their instru­ments, kept get­ting bet­ter, and did­n’t take short cuts, to the point where they could do mag­i­cal things togeth­er in the record­ing stu­dio.

Watch Part 1 above, and Part 2 below, where, at one point he says, “I’m doing the best I can. You can’t say I did­n’t try real­ly hard because I’m real­ly try­ing hard to be good.” The val­ue of trying–trying consistently–can nev­er be under­stat­ed.

Note: Some of the same themes get echoed in Tom Pet­ty’s final inter­view, which he gave to the LA Times last week. You can stream it here.

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:

A 17-Hour, Chrono­log­i­cal Jour­ney Through Tom Petty’s Music: Stream the Songs That Became the Sound­tracks of Our Lives

Watch Tom Pet­ty (RIP) and the Heart­break­ers Per­form Their Last Song Togeth­er, “Amer­i­can Girl”: Record­ed on 9/25/17

Prince, Joined by Tom Pet­ty, Plays a Mind-Blow­ing Gui­tar Solo On “While My Gui­tar Gen­tly Weeps”

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The Philosophy & Music of Devo, the Avant-Garde Art Project Dedicated to Revealing the Truth About De-Evolution

The chief dif­fi­cul­ty for any­one want­i­ng to make an assault on our munic­i­pal the­atre… is that there can be no ques­tion of reveal­ing a mys­tery. He can­not just point a stumpy fin­ger at the theatre’s ongo­ings and say, “You may have thought this amount­ed to some­thing, but let me tell you, it’s a sheer scan­dal; what you see before you proves your absolute bank­rupt­cy; it’s your own stu­pid­i­ty, your men­tal lazi­ness and your degen­er­a­cy that are being pub­li­cal­ly exposed.” No, the poor man can’t say that, for it’s no sur­prise to you; you’ve known it all along; noth­ing can be done about it.

–Berthold Brecht, “A Reck­on­ing”

Have you ever felt like Net­work’s Howard Beale? Rant­i­ng to any­one who’ll lis­ten about how mad as hell you are? “I don’t have to tell you things are bad. Every­body knows things are bad.”

Or maybe agreed with the weary cyn­i­cism of his boss, Max Schu­mach­er? “All of life is reduced to the com­mon rub­ble of banal­i­ty.”

Faced with the cru­el, stu­pid the­ater of mass pol­i­tics and cul­ture, we begin to feel a blan­ket of over­whelm­ing futil­i­ty descend. All of the pos­si­ble moves have been made and absorbed into the programming—including the out­raged crit­ic point­ing his fin­ger at the stage.

Avant-garde artists since the late 19th cen­tu­ry have cor­rect­ly sized up this depress­ing real­i­ty. But rather than seize up in fits of rage or suc­cumb to cyn­i­cism, they made new forms of the­ater: Jar­ry, Dada, Debord, Artaud, Brecht—all had designs to dis­rupt the oppres­sive banal­i­ty of mod­ern stage- and state-craft with mock­ery, sadism, and shock.

And so too did DEVO, the authors of “Whip It.”

Their 80s New Wave antics seemed like a juve­nile art-school prank. Behind it lay the­o­ret­i­cal sophis­ti­ca­tion and seri­ous polit­i­cal intent. “When we first start­ed Devo,” says Mark Moth­ers­baugh in the “Cal­i­for­nia Inspires Me” video above, “we were artists who were work­ing in a num­ber of dif­fer­ent media. We were around for the shoot­ings at Kent State. And it affect­ed us. We were think­ing, like, ‘What are we observ­ing?’ And we decid­ed we weren’t observ­ing evo­lu­tion, we were observ­ing de-evo­lu­tion.”

Won­der­ing how to change things, the band looked to Madi­son Avenue for inspiration—intent on tak­ing the tech­niques of mass per­sua­sion to sub­vert the enchant­ments of mass per­sua­sion, “report­ing the good news of De-Evo­lu­tion” in a joy­ous the­ater of mock­ery. The phi­los­o­phy itself evolved over time, first tak­ing shape in 1970 when Moth­ers­baugh and Ger­ald Casale met at Kent State. Casale had already coined the term “De-Evo­lu­tion”; Moth­ers­baugh intro­duced him to its mas­cot, Jocko-Homo, the 1924 cre­ation of anti-evo­lu­tion fun­da­men­tal­ist pam­phle­teer B.H. Shad­duck.

Fas­ci­nat­ed by Shadduck’s bizarre, pro­to-Jack Chick, illus­trat­ed freak-outs, Moth­ers­baugh and his band­mates adopt­ed the char­ac­ter for the first sin­gle from their 1978 debut album (top). Are We Not Men? We Are Devo! announced their car­ni­va­lesque gospel of human stu­pid­i­ty. Devo proved noth­ing we didn’t already know. Instead, they showed us the ele­va­tion of idio­cy to the sta­tus of a civ­il reli­gion. (Lat­er in the 80s, they would express­ly par­o­dy the nation­al reli­gion with their Evan­gel­i­cal satire DOVE.)

The the­ater of Devo was weird­ly com­pelling then and is wierd­ly com­pelling now, since the banal­i­ty and casu­al vio­lence of late-cap­i­tal­ism that threat­ened to swal­low up every­thing in the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry has, if any­thing, only become more bloat­ed and grotesque. “As far as Devo was con­cerned,” writes Ray Pad­gett at The New York­er, “Devo wasn’t a band at all but, rather, an art project… inspired by the Dadaists and the Ital­ian Futur­ists, Devo’s mem­bers were also cre­at­ing satir­i­cal visu­al art, writ­ing trea­tis­es, and film­ing short videos.”

One of those videos, “In the Begin­ning Was the End: The Truth About De-Evo­lu­tion,” fea­tured their “first ever cover”—Johnny Rivers’ “Secret Agent Man”—before they re-invent­ed (or “cor­rect­ed,” as they put it), the Rolling Stones’ “Sat­is­fac­tion.” They would screen the 9‑minute film, with its footage of two men in mon­key masks spank­ing a house­wife, before gigs.

The con­cepts are aggres­sive­ly wink-nudge ado­les­cent, reflect­ing not only Devo’s take on the regres­sive state of the cul­ture, but also Casale’s belief that “high-school kids know every­thing already.” But amidst the synths and shiny suits, we still hear Howard Beale’s cri de coeur, “I’m a human being dammit! My life has val­ue!” Only in Devo’s hands it turns to dark comedy—as in the title of a song from their 2010 come­back record Some­thing for Every­body, tak­en from words print­ed on the back of a hunter’s safe­ty vest that call back to the band’s begin­nings at Kent State: “Don’t Shoot, I’m a Man.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mas­ter­mind of Devo, Mark Moth­ers­baugh, Shows Off His Syn­the­siz­er Col­lec­tion

New Wave Music–DEVO, Talk­ing Heads, Blondie, Elvis Costello–Gets Intro­duced to Amer­i­ca by ABC’s TV Show, 20/20 (1979)

Devo’s Mark Moth­ers­baugh & Oth­er Arists Tell Their Musi­cal Sto­ries in the Ani­mat­ed Video Series, “Cal­i­for­nia Inspires Me”

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

An Intimate Look at Alberto Giacometti in His Studio, Making His Iconic Sculptures (1965)

A vis­it to an artist’s stu­dio can shed light on his or her work.

The British Arts Coun­cil’s short film above affords an inti­mate glimpse into Alber­to Gia­comet­ti’s stu­dio in Mont­par­nasse cir­ca 1965, the year when he was the sub­ject of major ret­ro­spec­tives at both the Tate Gallery and the Muse­um of Mod­ern Art in New York.

The artist passed most of his work­ing life in cramped space at 46 rue Hip­poly­te. Ear­ly on, he enter­tained plans to relo­cate “because it was too small – just a hole.”

Oth­ers vis­i­tors to the stu­dio described the artist’s envi­rons in more lit­er­ary terms:

In a charm­ing lit­tle for­got­ten gar­den he has a stu­dio, sub­merged in plas­ter, and he lives next to this in a kind of hangar, vast and cold, with nei­ther fur­ni­ture nor food. He works very hard for fif­teen hours at a stretch, above all at night: the cold, his frozen hands – he takes no notice, he works. Simone de Beau­voir

And:

This ground floor stu­dio… is going to cave in at any moment now. It is made of worm-eat­en wood and grey pow­der.… Every­thing is stained and ready for the bin, every­thing is pre­car­i­ous and about to col­lapse, every­thing is about to dis­solve, every­thing is float­ing.… And yet it all appears to be cap­tured in an absolute real­i­ty. When I leave the stu­dio, when I am out­side on the street, then noth­ing that sur­rounds me is true. — Play­wright Jean Genet

And:

The whole place look­ing as if it had been thrown togeth­er with a few old sticks and a lot of chew­ing gum.… In short, a dump. Any­way he said come in when I knocked.… He turned and glanced at me, hold­ing out his hand which was cov­ered in clay, so I shook his wrist.… He imme­di­ate­ly resumed work, run­ning his fin­gers up and down the clay so fierce­ly that lumps fell onto the floor - Essay­ist James Lord

These impres­sions paint a por­trait of a dri­ven, and dis­ci­plined artist, who logged untold hours mod­el­ing his formes elongee in clay, uncer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly crum­pling and rebuild­ing in the pur­suit of excel­lence.

The cam­era doc­u­ments this inten­si­ty, though his untrans­lat­ed remarks sug­gest a man capa­ble of tak­ing him­self light­ly, cer­tain­ly more so than the accom­pa­ny­ing nar­ra­tion does.

Like the nar­ra­tion, Roger Smal­l­ey’s dis­so­nant score lays it on thick, the son­ic equiv­a­lent of heads like blades and “limbs bound as though ban­daged for the grave.” Per­haps we should con­ceive of the stu­dio as a scary place?

In actu­al­i­ty, it proved a hos­pitable work envi­ron­ment and the impulse to relo­cate even­tu­al­ly waned, with the artist observ­ing that “the longer I stayed, the big­ger it became. I could fit any­thing I want­ed into it.”

Explore the recent Tate Mod­ern Gia­comet­ti ret­ro­spec­tive here and take a clos­er look at the stu­dio via Ernst Scheidegger’s pho­tos.

Gia­comet­ti” will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Icon­ic Artists at Work: Rare Videos of Picas­so, Matisse, Kandin­sky, Renoir, Mon­et, Pol­lock & More

Watch 1915 Video of Mon­et, Renoir, Rodin & Degas: The New Motion Pic­ture Cam­era Cap­tures the Inno­v­a­tive Artists

1.8 Mil­lion Free Works of Art from World-Class Muse­ums: A Meta List of Great Art Avail­able Online

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

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