LosÂing your virginity–it’s not a subÂject we’ve preÂviÂousÂly disÂcussed much here at Open CulÂture. Nor is it a subÂject about which we’d claim to have great experÂtise. (After all, you lose it only once in life.)
But perÂforÂmance artist MariÂna Abramović has givÂen the whole endeavÂor some seriÂous thought. As she explains in the BBC Radio 4 video above, she waitÂed until she was 24 years old. HavÂing seen preÂcoÂcious friends make misÂtakes, she hanÂdled things in her own speÂcial way. A PerÂry Como album. A botÂtle of AlbanÂian whisky. An expeÂriÂenced, emoÂtionÂalÂly uninÂvolved partÂner. They all figÂured into what she calls–now 45 years later–her “realÂly good plan.”
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
For the 500-year anniverÂsary of HieronyÂmus Bosch’s death, the MOTI MuseÂum in HolÂland comÂmisÂsioned a modÂern re-interÂpreÂtaÂtion of the Dutch painter’s famous medieval paintÂing, “The GarÂden of EarthÂly Delights” (cirÂca 1490). If you’re not familÂiar with Bosch’s enigÂmatÂic creÂation, explore these two items before you do anyÂthing else:
Then check out the video above, which gives you a glimpse of the giganÂtic video instalÂlaÂtion that’s on disÂplay at the MOTI through DecemÂber 31st.
Here’s how the Dutch aniÂmaÂtors behind this project explain what’s unfoldÂing before your eyes:
[We] cleared the origÂiÂnal landÂscape of the midÂdle panÂel of Bosch’s paintÂing and reconÂstructÂed it into a halÂluÂciÂnaÂtoÂry 4K aniÂmaÂtion. The creaÂtures that popÂuÂlate this indoor playÂground embody the excessÂes and desires of 21st cenÂtuÂry WestÂern civÂiÂlizaÂtion. ConÂsumerism, selfÂishÂness, escapism, the lure of erotiÂcism, vanÂiÂty and decaÂdence. All charÂacÂters are metaphors for our sociÂety where lonÂers swarm their digÂiÂtal dream world. They are symÂbolÂic reflecÂtions of egos and an imagÂiÂnaÂtion of peoÂple as they see themÂselves — unlike Bosch’s verÂsion, where all indiÂvidÂuÂals more or less look the same. From a horny HelÂlo KitÂty to a coke huntÂing penis snake. From an incarÂnate spyÂbot to headÂless fried chickÂens. These charÂacÂters, once preÂciseÂly paintÂed dream figÂures, are now digÂiÂtalÂly creÂatÂed 3D modÂels. All of them have been givÂen their own aniÂmaÂtion loop to wanÂder through the landÂscape. By placÂing them altoÂgethÂer in this synÂthetÂic fresÂco, the picÂture is nevÂer the same. What the aniÂmaÂtion and Bosch’s tripÂtych have in comÂmon is that you’ll hardÂly be able to take it all in, you can watch it for hours.
If you hapÂpen to find yourÂself in HolÂland, you can expeÂriÂence the instalÂlaÂtion firstÂhand (again before 12/31). Find direcÂtions to the MOTI here.
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
The worlds so thorÂoughÂly imagÂined by the French comÂic artist Jean Giraud, betÂter known as MoeÂbius, and the JapanÂese aniÂmaÂtor Hayao MiyazaÂki, immeÂdiÂateÂly recÂogÂnized the world over by his famÂiÂly name alone, could have arisen from no othÂer artisÂtic minds. It stands to reaÂson not only that appreÂciÂaÂtors of one would appreÂciÂate the othÂer, but that the two men would hold each othÂer’s work in high regard. “JapanÂese aniÂmaÂtion is impresÂsive,” MoeÂbius once said to MiyazaÂki as the two expressed their mutuÂal appreÂciÂaÂtion. “I realÂly think it is the best in the world, and MiyazaÂkÂi’s work is top in Japan.”
“MoeÂbius first disÂcovÂered MiyazaÂkÂi’s work in 1986, when his son Julien (then a schoolÂboy) showed him a pirate copy of a video conÂtainÂing a titleÂless, authorÂless, and undubbed aniÂmatÂed feaÂture,” writes Dani CavÂalÂlaro in The AniÂme Art of Hayao MiyazaÂki. “The French artist was instantÂly seduced by the film’s graphÂic vigÂor and techÂniÂcal invenÂtiveÂness but took it to be the one-off accomÂplishÂment of an unfamed aniÂmaÂtor. When he evenÂtuÂalÂly disÂcovÂered that the film’s name was NauÂsiÂcaä of the ValÂley of the Windand that its creÂator’s name was Hayao MiyazaÂki, MoeÂbius endeavÂored to delve deepÂer into the JapanÂese aniÂmaÂtor’s oeuÂvre and to pubÂlicly voice his admiÂraÂtion.”
And MiyazaÂki turns out to have drawn inspiÂraÂtion from MoeÂbius when he focused on aniÂmaÂtion. MiyazaÂki, who began as a comÂic artist himÂself, rememÂbers disÂcovÂerÂing MoeÂbius through Arzach, his series of wordÂless visuÂal stoÂries of a hero who rides a pteroÂdactyl through othÂerÂwordÂly and forÂbidÂdingÂly subÂlime landÂscapes. “It was a big shock,” says MiyazaÂki. “Not only for me. All manÂga authors were shakÂen by this work. UnforÂtuÂnateÂly when I disÂcovÂered it, I already had a conÂsolÂiÂdatÂed style. So I couldÂn’t use his influÂence to enrich my drawÂing. Though, even today, I think he has an aweÂsome sense of space. I directÂed NauÂsiÂcaä under MoeÂbius’ influÂence.”
In 2004, the exhiÂbiÂtion Miyazaki/MoebiuspreÂsentÂed brought them togethÂer in Paris. CavÂalÂlaro describes it as “a panoramÂic surÂvey of the two artists’ careers through 300 works includÂing waterÂcolÂors stoÂryÂboards, cels and conÂcept designs, theÂmatÂiÂcalÂly arranged, drawn from their perÂsonÂal colÂlecÂtions,” includÂing a drawÂing of NauÂsiÂcaä by MoeÂbius and one of Arzach by MiyazaÂki. They also sat down there for the conÂverÂsaÂtion recordÂed in the video above. “The 21st cenÂtuÂry is a tricky time,” says MiyazaÂki. “Our future isn’t clear. We need to re-examÂine many things we’ve takÂen for grantÂed, whether it’s our comÂmon sense or our way of thinkÂing.” The sheer imagÂiÂnaÂtive powÂer of artists like the both of them conÂtinÂues to show us the way forÂward.
You can read tranÂscripts of their recordÂed conÂverÂsaÂtions here and here.
Three years ago Swedish artist Anders RamÂsell creÂatÂed this 35 minute conÂdensed verÂsion of Blade RunÂner, frame by frame, using waterÂcolÂors. Blade RunÂner: The Aquarelle EdiÂtion conÂtains 12,597 impresÂsionÂisÂtic works on waterÂlogged artist paper that togethÂer present, if not a faithÂful repÂreÂsenÂtaÂtion of RidÂley Scott’s film, then a rememÂbrance of the film.
It’s as if you bootÂed up a repliÂcant film fan and had them try to reconÂstruct Blade RunÂner from memÂoÂry. (RamÂsell himÂself calls it a “paraÂphrase” of the film.) It’s recÂogÂnizÂable, but due to the lightÂness and fuzzy lines of waterÂcolÂor, there’s also a magÂic to these images. (This is also due to the small size of each frame, 1.5 x 3 cm.)
The film is a jump forÂward from Ramsell’s othÂer works. Before 2011, he was dabÂbling in varÂiÂous media: nudes in ink on canÂvas, abstract acrylic splotchÂes, surÂreÂal drawÂings that explore horsÂes and pregÂnanÂcy. DivÂing into Blade RunÂner and the amazÂing amount of work to proÂduce this film did the trick. RamÂsell has takÂen on this techÂnique as worÂthy of furÂther exploÂration and made a newÂer film, GenÂderÂness, which explores transÂsexÂuÂalÂiÂty, and feaÂtures a narÂraÂtion by none othÂer than RutÂger Hauer, who decidÂed to work with RamÂsell after seeÂing, Blade RunÂner: The Aquarelle EdiÂtion. Watch it above.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the artist interÂview-based FunkZone PodÂcast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, read his othÂer arts writÂing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.
On a road trip across AmerÂiÂca last year, I made a stop in SanÂta Fe, New MexÂiÂco, and thus had the chance to visÂit the GeorÂgia O’KeÂeffe MuseÂum. Though I’d already known someÂthing of the influÂenÂtial AmerÂiÂcan painter’s life and work, I hadÂn’t underÂstood the depth of her conÂnecÂtion to, and the extent of the inspiÂraÂtion she drew from, the AmerÂiÂcan SouthÂwest. “This is O’KeÂeffe counÂtry,” says Gene HackÂman, narÂraÂtor of the thirÂteen-minute docÂuÂmenÂtary GeorÂgia O’KeÂeffe: A Life in Art that screens perÂpetÂuÂalÂly at the museÂum but which you can also watch just above, “a land the painter made indeliÂbly her own. NorthÂern New MexÂiÂco transÂformed the artist’s work and changed her life.”
“As soon as I saw it, that was my counÂtry,” says the artist herÂself. “I’d nevÂer seen anyÂthing like it before, but it fitÂted to me exactÂly. There’s someÂthing in the air; it’s just difÂferÂent. The sky is difÂferÂent, the stars are difÂferÂent, the wind is difÂferÂent.”
I have to agree with her; my own great AmerÂiÂcan road trip showed me not only that the states realÂly do look difÂferÂent from each othÂer, but that New MexÂiÂco — which at first struck me as a Krazy Kat landÂscape come to life — looks most difÂferÂent of all. O’KeÂeffe first went to New MexÂiÂco for a year and a half in 1929, in her earÂly forÂties, and returned each year over the next two decades, movÂing there perÂmaÂnentÂly in 1949 and dying in SanÂta Fe in 1986, at the age of 98.
Though she remains best known in art hisÂtoÂry for her paintÂings of flowÂers that make their viewÂers see them in a way they’ve nevÂer seen flowÂers before, New MexÂiÂco introÂduced a whole new senÂsiÂbilÂiÂty into O’KeÂefÂfe’s body of work. This holds espeÂcialÂly true of her time at Ghost Ranch, whose locaÂtion in an area called Piedra LumÂbre, or “ShinÂing Rock,” proÂvidÂed the painter with the strikÂingÂly colÂored cliffs and othÂer almost unreÂal-lookÂing natÂurÂal forms that made their way into her equalÂly subÂlime landÂscapes. “The best place in the world,” she called it, and if we can meaÂsure places by what they move human beings to creÂate, her words hardÂly sound like an exagÂgerÂaÂtion.
When I first saw what was then the height of motion capÂture in 1999—TheMatrix’s “bulÂlet time” and kung fu sequences—I was suitÂably impressed, and yet… the extreme manipÂuÂlaÂtion of the real (which couldn’t have hapÂpened in a more approÂpriÂate film, grantÂed) also seemed a litÂtle like a cheat. In the days before comÂputÂers renÂdered 99% of speÂcial effects, part of the fun of watchÂing an effects film was spotÂting the seams. The short “Kung Fu VisuÂalÂizaÂtion” above, from GerÂman digÂiÂtal artist Tobias GremmÂler, deftÂly comÂbines both of these aesÂthetÂic inclinations—the love of artiÂfice and the awe of liqÂuid-smooth digÂiÂtal motion—in rustling, swirling, shimÂmerÂing aniÂmatÂed art that paraÂdoxÂiÂcalÂly shows us the seams of fluÂid moveÂment.
RecallÂing MarÂcel Duchamp’s famous nude or the dynamÂic sculpÂture of UmberÂto BocÂcioni, GremmÂler aniÂmates these modÂernist dreams using graceÂful motions capÂtured from two Kung Fu masÂters. Each sinÂuÂous marÂtial arts rouÂtine is renÂdered with a difÂferÂent mateÂrÂiÂal texÂture, with accomÂpaÂnyÂing sound effects and draÂmatÂic music. “VisuÂalÂizÂing the invisÂiÂble is always fasÂciÂnatÂing,” writes GremmÂler, “and motion visuÂalÂizaÂtions have been creÂatÂed even in pre-digÂiÂtal times with light, phoÂtogÂraÂphy, cosÂtumes or paintÂings.” (NorÂman McLaren’s 1968 “Pas de deux” offers a strikÂing hisÂtorÂiÂcal examÂple.) GremmÂler’s stunÂning aniÂmaÂtion was comÂmisÂsioned for a Hong Kong Kung Fu exhiÂbiÂtion and “focusÂes on the legaÂcy of HakÂka marÂtial arts in Hong Kong.”
Gremmler’s film may show us process in motion, but he remains coy about his own techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcal means (unless, preÂsumÂably, you buy his book.) AnothÂer motion capÂture masÂterÂpiece, “AsphyxÂia,” above, uses humÂble, yet highÂly advanced methÂods unimagÂinÂable in 1999, “two inexÂpenÂsive Xbox One Kinect senÂsors,” writes This is ColosÂsal, “to capÂture the moveÂments of dancer ShiÂho TanaÂka.” FilmÂmakÂers Maria Takeuchi and FredÂeriÂco Phillips then “renÂdered the data inside a near phoÂto-realÂisÂtic enviÂronÂment,” makÂing creÂative use of lowÂer-res tics and glitchÂes. ComÂbined with a loveÂly elecÂtronÂic score from Takeuchi, the resultÂing video’s visuÂal poetÂry is imposÂsiÂble to adeÂquateÂly conÂvey in words.
What “AsphyxÂia” does show us is a scalÂing back of techÂniÂcal wizÂardry that reveals a deep levÂel of gesÂturÂal sophisÂtiÂcaÂtion underÂneath. “The project,” write the filmÂmakÂers, “is an effort to explore new ways to use and/or comÂbine techÂnoloÂgies… withÂout many of the comÂmerÂcial limÂiÂtaÂtions. The perÂforÂmance is cenÂtered in an eloÂquent choreÂogÂraÂphy that stressÂes the desire to be expresÂsive withÂout bounds.” Although “AsphyxÂia” is obviÂousÂly a lower-quality—digitally speaking—work than Gremmler’s Kung Fu VisuÂalÂizaÂtion, it is none the worse for it. Both use motion capÂture techÂnolÂoÂgy in innoÂvÂaÂtive ways that foreÂground the artistry, rather than the mimÂicÂry, of digÂiÂtal aniÂmaÂtion. (SomeÂwhat like the much-praised digÂiÂtal stop-motion Kubo and the Two Strings.) If you want to see how the makÂers of “AsphyxÂia” creÂatÂed their experÂiÂment, watch their makÂing-of film below.
We’ve feaÂtured the work of SpanÂish filmÂmakÂer CristĂłbal Vila before: His short film “InspiÂraÂtions” celÂeÂbratÂed the mathÂeÂmatÂiÂcal art of M.C. EschÂer. “FallingÂwaÂter” aniÂmatÂed one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s finest creÂations. And “Nature by NumÂbers” showed us geoÂmetÂriÂcal and mathÂeÂmatÂiÂcal forÂmuÂlas found in nature.
Today, we bring you Vila’s latÂest “Wabi-Sabi: A HandÂful of MemÂoÂries from TraÂdiÂtionÂal Japan.” As he notes on his site, the aniÂmaÂtion capÂtures the “aspects that interÂest me the most about traÂdiÂtionÂal Japan,” feaÂturÂing “scenes inspired by nature, garÂdens, archiÂtecÂture, inteÂriÂor scenes, etc.” And it attempts to “creÂate a calm and balÂanced atmosÂphere through the use of light, comÂpoÂsiÂtion, mateÂriÂals, moveÂment… and the choice of the motifs themÂselves.”
Above, you can watch “Wabi-Sabi,” a JapanÂese term that refers to “the [aesÂthetÂic] beauÂty of the imperÂmaÂnent, the imperÂfect, the rusÂtic, and the melanÂcholy,” as explains The School of Life video below. If you’re entranced by Vila’s short film, also watch the “MakÂing of” video (midÂdle).
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
If we can conÂsidÂer some cooks artists, sureÂly we can conÂsidÂer some artists cooks. Madeleine ConÂway and NanÂcy Kirk sureÂly operÂatÂed on that assumpÂtion when they put togethÂer The MuseÂum of ModÂern Art Artists’ CookÂbook, which colÂlects 155 recipes from 30 such figÂures not priÂmarÂiÂly known for their culiÂnary acuÂmen as SalÂvador DalĂ, Willem de KoonÂing, Louise BourÂgeois, Andy Warhol, Helen FrankenÂthaler, Roy LichtÂenÂstein, and ChrisÂto and Jeanne-Claude. (“StrangeÂly,” write the wags at Phaidon, “there are no wraps.”)
PubÂlished in 1978, the Artists’ CookÂbook has long since left print, though pricey secÂond-hand copies of the MoMA-issued ediÂtion and someÂwhat more affordÂable copies of the spiÂral-bound trade ediÂtion still cirÂcuÂlate: Nick Harvill Libraries, for instance offers one for $125.
“SimÂplicÂiÂty is a recurÂring theme,” says their site of the recipes conÂtained withÂin, which include DalĂ’s red salÂad, de KoonÂing’s seafood sauce, BourÂgeois’ French cucumÂber salÂad, Andy Warhol’s perÂhaps preÂdictable boilÂing method for CampÂbelÂl’s canned soup, FrankenÂthaler’s poached stuffed striped bass, LichtÂenÂstein’s not entireÂly seriÂous “priÂmorÂdial soup” (involvÂing “8cc hydroÂgen” and “5cc ammoÂnia”), and ChrisÂto and Jeanne-Claude’s comÂplete “quick and easy filet mignon dinÂner parÂty.”
TakÂen as a whole, the project capÂtures not just a disÂtincÂtive moment in AmerÂiÂcan culÂture when you could pubÂlish a cookÂbook with pretÂty much any theme — we’ve preÂviÂousÂly feaÂtured DalĂ’s own, which came out in 1973, and the rock-star-oriÂentÂed Singers & Swingers in the Kitchen, from 1967 — but an equalÂly disÂtincÂtive moment, and place, in AmerÂiÂcan art. MoMA, as you might expect, brought in the artists with whom they had the closÂest conÂnecÂtions, which in the mid-1970s meant a parÂticÂuÂlarÂly influÂenÂtial couÂple of genÂerÂaÂtions who mostÂly rose to promiÂnence, and stayed in promiÂnence, in New York City.
That’s not to say that the conÂtribÂuÂtors to The MuseÂum of ModÂern Art Artists’ CookÂbook were born into the art world. Brain PickÂings’ Maria PopoÂva quotes excerpts of the book’s interÂviews with the artists about their earÂly culiÂnary lives: BourÂgeois rues the “wastÂed hours” spent cookÂing for her father (“in those days a man had the right to have his food ready for him at all times.” De KoonÂing recalls his childÂhood in poverÂty in HolÂland where, “when you had dinÂner, it was always brown beans.” DalĂ and Warhol put their eccenÂtricÂiÂties on disÂplay, the forÂmer with his all-white table (“white porceÂlain, white damask, and white flowÂers in crysÂtal vasÂes”) and the latÂter with his decÂlaÂraÂtion that “airÂplane food is the best food.” De gustibus, as they say in food and art alike, non disÂputanÂdum est.
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