Learn Calligraphy from Lloyd Reynolds, the Teacher of Steve Jobs’ Own Famously Inspiring Calligraphy Teacher

The sto­ry has, over time, solid­i­fied into one of the columns of Steve Jobs lore: in the ear­ly 1970s, the man who would found Apple left for Reed Col­lege. But before long, not want­i­ng to spend any more of his par­ents’ mon­ey on tuition (and per­haps not tem­pera­men­tal­ly com­pat­i­ble with the struc­ture of high­er edu­ca­tion any­way), he offi­cial­ly dropped out, couch-surfed through friends’ pads, lived on free meals ladled out by Hare Krish­nas, con­tin­ued to audit a vari­ety of class­es, and gen­er­al­ly lived the pro­to­type tech­no-neo-hip­pie lifestyle Sil­i­con Val­ley has con­tin­ued relent­less­ly to refine.

Per­haps the least like­ly of those class­es was one on cal­lig­ra­phy, taught by Trap­pist monk and cal­lig­ra­ph­er Robert Pal­ladi­no. More than thir­ty years lat­er, deliv­er­ing a now-famous Stan­ford com­mence­ment speech, Jobs recalled his time in the cal­lig­ra­phy class: “None of this had even a hope of any prac­ti­cal appli­ca­tion in my life. But 10 years lat­er, when we were design­ing the first Mac­in­tosh com­put­er, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first com­put­er with beau­ti­ful typog­ra­phy.”

And what of the cal­lig­ra­phy teacher who made that pos­si­ble? “Pal­ladi­no, who died in late Feb­ru­ary at 83, joined the Trap­pist order of monks in New Mex­i­co in 1950, accord­ing to a 2003 pro­file in Reed Mag­a­zine,” writes the Wash­ing­ton Post’s Niraj Chok­shi. “Just 17 at the time, his hand­writ­ing attract­ed the atten­tion of the monastery scribe, who worked with him on his art. Five years lat­er, Pal­ladi­no moved to Lafayette, Ore., where local artists brought news of a skilled ama­teur to Lloyd Reynolds, an icon in the field and the cre­ator of Reed’s cal­lig­ra­phy pro­gram.”

Now you, too, can receive instruc­tion from Reynolds, who in 1968 starred in a series on the Ore­gon Edu­ca­tion Tele­vi­sion Ser­vice’s pro­gram Men Who Teach, shoot­ing twen­ty half-hour broad­casts on ital­ic cal­lig­ra­phy and hand­writ­ing. Eight years lat­er — about the time Jobs co-found­ed Apple with Steve Woz­ni­ak — he re-shot the series in col­or, and you can watch that ver­sion almost in its entire­ty with the playlist at the top of the post. (Reed has also made some relat­ed instruc­tion­al mate­ri­als avail­able.) You may feel the temp­ta­tion to turn all of Reynolds’ lessons on the art of writ­ing toward your goal of becom­ing the next Steve Jobs. But try to resist that impulse and appre­ci­ate it for its own nature, which Jobs him­self described as “beau­ti­ful, his­tor­i­cal, artis­ti­cal­ly sub­tle in a way that sci­ence can’t cap­ture.”

We’ll add these vin­tage lessons to our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Steve Jobs on Life: “Stay Hun­gry, Stay Fool­ish”

Steve Jobs Nar­rates the First “Think Dif­fer­ent” Ad (Nev­er Aired)

Steve Jobs Mus­es on What’s Wrong with Amer­i­can Edu­ca­tion, 1995

The Art of Hand­writ­ing as Prac­ticed by Famous Artists: Geor­gia O’Keeffe, Jack­son Pol­lock, Mar­cel Duchamp, Willem de Koon­ing & More

Font Based on Sig­mund Freud’s Hand­writ­ing Com­ing Cour­tesy of Suc­cess­ful Kick­starter Cam­paign

One of World’s Old­est Books Print­ed in Mul­ti-Col­or Now Opened & Dig­i­tized for the First Time

Dis­cov­er What Shakespeare’s Hand­writ­ing Looked Like, and How It Solved a Mys­tery of Author­ship

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.

What Happens When a Japanese Woodblock Artist Depicts Life in London in 1866, Despite Never Having Set Foot There

Life in London Woodblock

The affini­ties between Eng­land and Japan go far beyond the fact that both are tea-lov­ing nations with a devo­tion to gar­dens; far beyond the fact that both dri­ve on the left, are the world’s lead­ing over­seas investors, and are rainy islands stud­ded with green vil­lages. They go even beyond the fact that both have an astrin­gent sense of hier­ar­chy, sub­scribe to a code of social ret­i­cence, and are, in some respects, proud, iso­lat­ed monar­chies with more than a touch of xeno­pho­bia. The very qual­i­ties that seem so for­eign, even men­ac­ing, to many Amer­i­cans in Japan — the fact that peo­ple do not invari­ably mean what they say, that uncer­tain dis­tances sep­a­rate polite­ness from true feel­ings, and that every­thing is couched in a kind of code in which nuances are every­thing — will hard­ly seem strange to a cer­tain kind of Eng­lish­man.

That astute com­par­i­son comes from an essay called “For Japan, See Oscar Wilde” by Pico Iyer, a writer unique­ly well-placed to sense this sort of thing by virtue of his child­hood in Eng­land and long­time res­i­dence as an adult in Japan. His Indi­an her­itage and pen­chant for world trav­el have also equipped him to write with clar­i­ty about the ways — some­times grotesque, some­times delu­sion­al, some­times aspi­ra­tional, some­times fan­tas­ti­cal — in which one coun­try can per­ceive anoth­er.

In the case of the some­how sep­a­rat­ed-at-birth nations of Eng­land and Japan, we have some direct doc­u­men­ta­tion of the for­mer as dreamed of by the lat­ter in Uta­gawa Yoshitora’s 1866 trip­tych Igirisukoku Ron­don no zu.

LeftLondon.jpg.CROP.original-original

“Togeth­er, the three images depict a street scene near the Riv­er Thames, com­plete with throng­ing Eng­lish pedes­tri­ans, two sail­ing ships, hors­es, oxen, and car­riages,” writes Slate’s Rebec­ca Onion: “The images would have sold fair­ly cheap­ly, in the thriv­ing mar­ket in wood­block (ukiyo‑e) prints in 19th-cen­tu­ry Japan. Uta­gawa, a rel­a­tive­ly minor artist from an exten­sive lin­eage of wood­block print­ers, also pro­duced por­traits of Kabu­ki actors, trip­tychs of his­tor­i­cal bat­tle scenes, and images of for­eign­ers in Yokohama—one of the only places in Japan where they were allowed to trade at the time. (Here’s an 1861 print titled ‘Two Amer­i­cans.’) Uta­gawa prob­a­bly did not vis­it Lon­don, and was instead work­ing from sec­ond­hand reports.”

RightLondon.jpg.CROP.original-original

That would make him a per­fect sub­ject for Iyer, who has tend­ed to spe­cial­ize in writ­ing not just about the places of the world but the places of the mind. While the peo­ple of Uta­gawa’s Lon­don of the mind dis­play a sim­pli­fied typ­i­cal Eng­lish style of dress, and do so before a proud domed build­ing and a mighty-look­ing, elab­o­rate­ly rigged sail­ing ship, their com­po­si­tion remains some­how quin­tes­sen­tial­ly Japan­ese. But then, how much sep­a­rates the quin­tes­sen­tial­ly Japan­ese from the quin­tes­sen­tial­ly Eng­lish? “The actu­al peo­ple who live in Japan,” said Oscar Wilde as quot­ed in Iyer’s essay, “are not unlike the gen­er­al run of Eng­lish peo­ple.”

MiddleLondon.jpg.CROP.original-original

And the affin­i­ty goes both ways. When Prince Fushi­mi Sada­naru made a state vis­it to Eng­land forty years after Uta­gawa made his prints, he hoped to catch a per­for­mance of The Mika­do, Gilbert and Sul­li­van’s hit com­ic opera set very much in the Japan of the Eng­lish mind (and one that faces accu­sa­tions of cul­tur­al impe­ri­al­ism to this day). Alas, the British gov­ern­ment had pre­emp­tive­ly can­celed all per­for­mances dur­ing the Prince’s stay for fear of offend­ing him. This prompt­ed a Japan­ese jour­nal­ist in Lon­don to lat­er see the show him­self. He went on to write of his dis­ap­point­ment: he’d gone in expect­ing “real insults” to his home­land, only to find “bright music and much fun.”

via Slate’s The Vault/Two Nerdy His­to­ry Girls

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lon­don Mashed Up: Footage of the City from 1924 Lay­ered Onto Footage from 2013

2,000 Years of London’s His­tor­i­cal Devel­op­ment, Ani­mat­ed in 7 Min­utes

Prize-Win­ning Ani­ma­tion Lets You Fly Through 17th Cen­tu­ry Lon­don

1927 Lon­don Shown in Mov­ing Col­or

Down­load Hun­dreds of 19th-Cen­tu­ry Japan­ese Wood­block Prints by Mas­ters of the Tra­di­tion

The Best Writ­ing Advice Pico Iyer Ever Received

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.

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

For many of us, washi paper is the art sup­ply equiv­a­lent of a dish that’s “too pret­ty to eat.” I love to look at it, but would be loathe to mar its beau­ty with my ama­teur cre­ative efforts.

Orig­i­nal­ly intend­ed for use in lanterns and sho­ji screens in Japan, its sim­plic­i­ty makes it a stand out among the far more orna­men­tal dec­o­ra­tive sheets pop­u­lat­ing the fan­cy inter­na­tion­al paper selec­tions. Though there is no short­age of machine-pro­duced washi on the mar­ket these days, the loveli­est exam­ples are still hand­made in Kurotani, a small town near Kyoto.

Kurotani has the dis­tinc­tion of being Japan’s old­est paper-mak­ing town, and as doc­u­ment­ed by film­mak­er Kuroy­ana­gi Takashi, above, the washi process has changed lit­tle in 800 years.

In the pre-indus­tri­al age, washi-mak­ing was sea­son­al. Farm­ers plant­ed the paper mul­ber­ry (kozo), mit­suma­ta, and gampi plants essen­tial to the process along with their food crops. Come havest-time, they would soak these plants’ fibrous inner barks until they were soft enough to be cleaned and pound­ed.

Then as now, the result­ing pulp was added mixed with liq­uid and a mucilage to yield a (not par­tic­u­lar­ly deli­cious sound­ing, and def­i­nite­ly not too pret­ty to eat…) spread­able paste.

The sheets are formed on bam­boo screens, then stacked and pressed until dry.

The end result is both strong and flex­i­ble, mak­ing it a favorite of book­binders. Its absorben­cy is prized by print­mak­ers, includ­ing Rem­brandt.

If you have a yen to wit­ness the labor-inten­sive, tra­di­tion­al process up close, Dutch washi crafts­man Rogi­er Uiten­boogaart runs a guest house as part of his stu­dio in near­by Kamikoya.

The rest of us must con­tent our­selves with Takashi’s med­i­ta­tive 5‑minute doc­u­men­tary.

via The Kid Should See This

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

How Ink is Made: A Volup­tuous Process Revealed in a Mouth-Water­ing Video

Dis­cov­er Harvard’s Col­lec­tion of 2,500 Pig­ments: Pre­serv­ing the World’s Rare, Won­der­ful Col­ors

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She writes a month­ly col­umn about peo­ple who love their jobs for Mainichi Week­ly, a bilin­gual Japan­ese news­pa­per. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Discover Harvard’s Collection of 2,500 Pigments: Preserving the World’s Rare, Wonderful Colors

If mod­ern paint com­pa­nies’ pre­ten­tious­ly-named col­or palettes gall you to the point of an exclu­sive­ly black-and-white exis­tence, the Har­vard Art Muse­ums’ Forbes pig­ment col­lec­tion will prove a wel­come balm.

The hand and type­writ­ten labels iden­ti­fy­ing the collection’s 2500+ pig­ments boast none of the flashy “cre­ativ­i­ty” that J. Crew employs to ped­dle its cash­mere Boyfriend Cardi­gans.
Pigment Collection

Images by Har­vard News

The benign, and whol­ly unex­cit­ing-sound­ing “emer­ald green” is —unsurprisingly—the exact shade legions of Oz fans have come to expect. The thrills here are chem­i­cal, not con­ferred. A mix of crys­talline pow­der cop­per ace­toarsen­ite, this emerald’s fumes sick­ened pen­ni­less artists as adroit­ly as they repelled insects.

Look how nice­ly it goes with Van Gogh’s rud­dy hair…

Van Gogh Harvard

“Mum­my” is per­haps the clos­est the Forbes col­lec­tion comes to 21st- cen­tu­ry pig­ment nam­ing. As Harvard’s Direc­tor of the Straus Cen­ter for Con­ser­va­tion and Tech­ni­cal Stud­ies, Narayan Khan­dekar, notes in the video above, its mush­room shade is no great shakes. The source—the resin used to seal mum­mies’ bandages—is what dis­tin­guish­es it.

Index_mummy_02

The collection’s crown jew­el is a rich ball of mustard‑y Indi­an Yel­low. This pig­ment comes not from maize, nor earth, but from the dehy­drat­ed urine of a cow sub­sist­ing exclu­sive­ly on man­go leaves. I’m drawn to it like a moth to the liv­ing room walls. I’m sure Ben­jamin Moore had his rea­sons for dub­bing its urine-free fac­sim­i­le “Sun­ny Days.”

pigment_vault India Yellow

The images above, save the Van Gogh paint­ing, comes cour­tesy of by Har­vard News. The video above was cre­at­ed by Great Big Sto­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Ink is Made: A Volup­tuous Process Revealed in a Mouth-Water­ing Video

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

Watch the First 10 Sea­sons of Bob Ross’ The Joy of Paint­ing Free Online

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

How Ink is Made: The Process Revealed in a Mouth-Watering Video

As depict­ed above, ink mak­ing is as volup­tuous a process as mak­ing a high end can­dy bar. Hav­ing grown up around the print­ing floor of a dai­ly news­pa­per, I know that ink’s pun­gent aro­ma is the oppo­site of chocolate‑y, but my mouth still start­ed to water. Was it the com­mer­cial-ready clas­si­cal sound­track or hear­ing Chief Ink Mak­er Peter Wel­fare com­par­ing the pigment’s gooey “vehi­cle” to hon­ey?

I won’t be dip­ping my tongue in the ink pot any time soon, but the mul­ti­step four col­or process by which pow­dered cyan, magen­ta, yel­low, and black hues become press-bound ink proved far more sen­su­al than expect­ed.

Ink mak­ing in the 21st-cen­tu­ry is a com­bi­na­tion of Old and New World tech­niques.

The his­to­ry of ink and print­ing is very old indeed. The Chi­nese devel­oped move­able type around 1045 and used it to print paper mon­ey. The Guten­berg Press was up and run­ning by 1440. The rollers, vats, and mix­ing tools in use at the Print­ing Ink Com­pa­ny, Wel­fare’s fam­i­ly busi­ness, are not so far removed from the tools used by ear­ly prac­ti­tion­ers.

Work­ers at the Print­ing Ink Comp­nany use their fin­gers to test their product’s tack­i­ness, a pre­dic­tor of its on-press per­for­mance. Pre­sum­ably, you devel­op a feel for it after a while.

State of the art com­put­er pro­grams pro­vide fur­ther qual­i­ty con­trol, ana­lyz­ing for con­sis­ten­cy of col­or and gloss with an accu­ra­cy that eludes even the most prac­ticed human eye.

The results can be seen on every­thing from brochures to fine art prints.

via Coudal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn How Crayons Are Made, Cour­tesy of 1980s Videos by Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers

How Vinyl Records Are Made: A Primer from 1956

How Film Was Made in 1958: A Kodak Nos­tal­gia Moment

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Her play, Fawn­book, opens in New York City lat­er this fall. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Frida!

In a pret­ty great gif. That’s all.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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:

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

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

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

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The Online Knitting Reference Library: Download 300 Knitting Books Published From 1849 to 2012

Mother's Knitter

No need to scram­ble to the fall­out shel­ter, friends.

That mas­sive boom you just heard is mere­ly the sound of thou­sands of crafters’ minds being blown en masse by the Uni­ver­si­ty of South­hamp­ton’s Knit­ting Ref­er­ence Library, an exten­sive resource of books, cat­a­logues, pat­terns, jour­nals and magazines—over sev­en­teen decades worth.

Viva la Hand­made Rev­o­lu­tion!

The basics of the form—knit­ting, purl­ing, increas­ing, decreas­ing, cast­ing on and off—have remained remark­ably con­sis­tent through­out the gen­er­a­tions. No won­der there’s an endur­ing tra­di­tion of learn­ing to knit at grandma’s knee…

What has evolved is the nature of the fin­ished prod­ucts.

Miss Lambert

Miss Lam­bert’s “Baby Quilt in Stripes of Alter­nate Col­ors” from her 1847 Knit­ting Book could still hold its own against any oth­er hand­craft­ed show­er gift, but even the most hard­core mod­ern crafter would find it chal­leng­ing to find tak­ers for her “Car­riage Sock,” which is meant to be worn over the shoe.

Trawlers

Dit­to the “Woolen Hel­mets” in Help­ing the Trawlers, a 32-page pam­phlet pub­lished by the Roy­al Nation­al Mis­sion to Deep Sea Fish­er­men. The hope was that civic-mind­ed knit­ters might be moved to donate hand­made socks, mit­tens, and oth­er items to com­bat the chill faced by poor work­ing men fac­ing the ele­ments on freez­ing decks.

Not sur­pris­ing­ly, the eager vol­un­teer knit­ting force grav­i­tat­ed toward the pamphlet’s most baroque item, putting the pub­lish­er in a del­i­cate posi­tion:

Owing, per­haps, to their nov­el­ty, a great many friends com­mence work­ing for the Soci­ety by mak­ing these arti­cles and the Uhlan caps, and we are apt, on this account, to get rather more of them than we require for our North Sea work. The Labrador fish­er­men val­ue the hel­mets equal­ly with their North Sea breathren, and thus there is an ample out­put for them, but we shall be glad if friends will bear the hint in mind, and make some of the oth­er things in pref­er­ence to the hel­mets and Uhlan caps.

Woollen Helmets

All of the books in the Knit­ting Ref­er­ence Library are open access, though many of the pat­terns and mag­a­zines are depen­dent on copy­right clear­ance. Give a prowl, and you’ll find that a few of the old­er pat­terns are avail­able as down­load­able, print­able PDFs , such as this hand­some gent’s cable knit pullover or the tricky 50’s bison cardi­gan, below.

Bison Cardigan

Even with­out step-by-step instruc­tions, the pat­tern envelopes’ cov­er images can still pro­vide inspiration…and no small degree of amuse­ment. Some enter­pris­ing librar­i­an should get crack­ing on a sub-col­lec­tion, Fash­ion Crimes Against Male Knitwear Mod­els, 1960–1980:

Knitting Crime 1

Knitting Crime 2

Knitting Crime 3

There’s even some­thing for the lat­ter day Labrador trawler...

Balaclava

The entire col­lec­tion can be viewed here. For view­ing and print­ing pat­terns, we rec­om­mend select­ing “PDF” from the list of down­load options.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The BBC Cre­ates Step-by-Step Instruc­tions for Knit­ting the Icon­ic Dr. Who Scarf: A Doc­u­ment from the Ear­ly 1980s

See Pen­guins Wear­ing Tiny “Pen­guin Books” Sweaters, Knit­ted by the Old­est Man in Aus­tralia

The Whole Earth Cat­a­log Online: Stew­art Brand’s “Bible” of the 60s Gen­er­a­tion

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

Lolita Book Covers: 200+ Designs From 40 Countries Since 1955, Including Nabokov’s Favorite Design

nabokov's favorite lolita cover

How to mar­ket a book like Loli­ta, which, upon its pub­li­ca­tion in 1955, prompt­ly found itself banned in France, Britain, New Zealand, Argenti­na and oth­er coun­tries? Care­ful­ly. At least at first.

Over at Cov­er­ing Loli­ta, you can see an archive of the designs that have adorned the cov­er of the famous­ly con­tro­ver­sial book. It all starts with the orig­i­nal 1955 edi­tion, which was the most vanil­la cov­er imag­in­able. Loli­ta and Hum­bert Hum­bert — they were nowhere to be seen.

lolita-cover-2-e1362033220249

By the 1960s, pub­lish­ers got a lit­tle less gun shy, and the cov­ers, more risqué. See this 1964 Turk­ish ver­sion as an exam­ple. Or the sec­ond image above, a Dan­ish cov­er from 1963.

So what cov­er did Nabokov per­son­al­ly favor? Glad you asked. Long ago, we showed you some footage of Nabokov mar­veling over dif­fer­ent “Loli­ta” cov­er designs. And, in it, he points to his favorite: a French sketch from 1963, which appears up top.

This just a small sam­pling of what you will find in the Cov­er­ing Loli­ta Archive, a gallery that cur­rent­ly con­tains 210 book and media cov­ers from 40 coun­tries, span­ning 58 years.

The archive brings you right up to 2014. (2015 and 2016 will like­ly be account­ed for pret­ty soon.) If you have a favorite design, please let us know in the com­ments sec­tion below.

Note: You can down­load essen­tial works by Vladimir Nabokov as free audio­books (includ­ing Jere­my Irons read­ing Loli­ta) if you sign up for a 30-Day Free Tri­al with Audi­ble. Find more infor­ma­tion on that pro­gram here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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:

Vladimir Nabokov Names the Great­est (and Most Over­rat­ed) Nov­els of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Vladimir Nabokov (Chan­nelled by Christo­pher Plum­mer) Teach­es Kaf­ka at Cor­nell

Vladimir Nabokov Mar­vels Over Dif­fer­ent “Loli­ta” Book Cov­ers

The Note­cards on Which Vladimir Nabokov Wrote Loli­ta: A Look Inside the Author’s Cre­ative Process

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