Van Gogh’s 1888 Painting, “The Night Cafe,” Animated with Oculus Virtual Reality Software

Vin­cent van Gogh’s 1888 paint­ing, “The Night Cafe,” now hangs at the Yale Uni­ver­si­ty Art Gallery, accom­pa­nied by this descrip­tion:

In a let­ter to his broth­er writ­ten from Arles in the south of France, van Gogh described the Café de l’Al­cazar, where he took his meals, as “blood red and dull yel­low with a green bil­liard table in the cen­ter, four lemon yel­low lamps with an orange and green glow. Every­where there is a clash and con­trast of the most dis­parate reds and greens.” The clash­ing col­ors were also meant to express the “ter­ri­ble pas­sions of human­i­ty” found in this all-night haunt, pop­u­lat­ed by vagrants and pros­ti­tutes. Van Gogh also felt that col­ors took on an intrigu­ing qual­i­ty at night, espe­cial­ly by gaslight: in this paint­ing, he want­ed to show how “the white cloth­ing of the café own­er, keep­ing watch in a cor­ner of this fur­nace, becomes lemon yel­low, pale and lumi­nous green.”

The can­vas, though dry and most­ly flat, does a per­fect­ly good job of cap­tur­ing the life force that ran through that 19th cen­tu­ry French café. That’s an under­state­ment, of course. But I sup­pose there’s no harm in ani­mat­ing the already ani­mat­ed scene with some new-fan­gled tech­nol­o­gy. Above, you can see Mac Cauley’s “immer­sive vir­tu­al real­i­ty” trib­ute to Van Gogh, which he cre­at­ed for Ocu­lus’ Mobile VR Jam 2015. On a page ded­i­cat­ed to the project, Cauley writes:

My main goal with this project was to see what kinds of styl­ized 3D ren­der­ing could be expe­ri­enced through VR. I have always been drawn to the paint­ings of Van Gogh and I imag­ined it would be amaz­ing to be inside one of these col­or­ful worlds. While the GearVR offered cer­tain chal­lenges with its tech­ni­cal lim­i­ta­tions com­pared with a PC, it forced me to pri­or­i­tize and real­ly define what makes a Van Gogh paint­ing unique.

While cre­at­ing the envi­ron­ments of these paint­ings in 3D space I’ve had to expand on areas that can’t be seen; rooms behind doors, objects hid­den from view, peo­ple turned away from the view­er. It’s been an inter­est­ing process in using ref­er­ence mate­r­i­al from Van Gogh and oth­er expres­sion­ist painters but also imag­in­ing what might have been there, just off the edges of the can­vas.

The win­ners of the Ocu­lus Mobile VR Jam will be announced in June. More cre­ative takes on famous paint­ings can be found below.

via Coudal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A 3D Tour of Picasso’s Guer­ni­ca

Edvard Munch’s Famous Paint­ingThe Scream Ani­mat­ed to the Sound of Pink Floyd’s Pri­mal Music

Dripped: An Ani­mat­ed Trib­ute to Jack­son Pollock’s Sig­na­ture Paint­ing Tech­nique

Late Rem­brandts Come to Life: Watch Ani­ma­tions of Paint­ings Now on Dis­play at the Rijksmu­se­um

Van Gogh’s ‘Star­ry Night’ Re-Cre­at­ed by Astronomer with 100 Hub­ble Space Tele­scope Images

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David Byrne’s Unusual Forms of Visual Art: Bike Racks, Corporate Signs & Powerpoint Presentations

A decade ago, I vol­un­tar­i­ly watched a Pow­er­point pre­sen­ta­tion. That may sound unre­mark­able, but under nor­mal cir­cum­stances I go to almost any length to avoid Pow­er­point pre­sen­ta­tions. I throw my lot in with The Visu­al Dis­play of Quan­ti­ta­tive Infor­ma­tion author Edward Tufte, known for his indict­ment of the “Pow­er­point cog­ni­tive style” that “rou­tine­ly dis­rupts, dom­i­nates, and triv­i­al­izes con­tent.” But this par­tic­u­lar Pow­er­point pre­sen­ta­tion did­n’t hap­pen under nor­mal cir­cum­stances: it came from none oth­er than artist, writer, and for­mer Talk­ing Head David Byrne.

Byrne 1

Byrne may have done a num­ber of such pre­sen­ta­tions under the ban­ner of “I Love Pow­er­point,” but he and Tufte regard that omnipresent Microsoft slideshow appli­ca­tion more sim­i­lar­ly than you might think. “Hav­ing nev­er used the pro­gram before, I found it lim­it­ing, inflex­i­ble, and biased, like most soft­ware,” Byrne wrote of his user expe­ri­ence in Wired. “On top of that, Pow­er­Point makes hilar­i­ous­ly bad-look­ing visu­als.” And yet, “although I began by mak­ing fun of the medi­um, I soon real­ized I could actu­al­ly cre­ate things that were beau­ti­ful. I could bend the pro­gram to my own whim and use it as an artis­tic agent.”

Byrne 2

The fruits of Byrne’s exper­i­men­ta­tion, apart from those talks in the 2000s, include the book Envi­sion­ing Epis­te­mo­log­i­cal Emo­tion­al Infor­ma­tion, a col­lec­tion of his Pow­er­point “pieces that were mov­ing, despite the lim­i­ta­tions of the ‘medi­um.’ ” You can find more infor­ma­tion on davidbyrne.com’s art page, which doc­u­ments the host of non-musi­cal projects Byrne has pulled off in his post-Heads career, includ­ing whim­si­cal urban bike racks installed in Man­hat­tan and Brook­lyn. The short Wall Street Jour­nal video at the top of the post doc­u­ments the project, which fits right in the wheel­house of a such a design-mind­ed, New York-based, bicy­cle-lov­ing kind of guy.

Byrne 3

Byrne, as his musi­cal out­put might have you expect, tends to stray from too-estab­lished forms when­ev­er pos­si­ble. Just above, we have one exam­ple of his works in the form of the cor­po­rate sign, each image of which shows the name of a big, bland com­pa­ny when viewed from one angle, and a world like “TRUST,” “GRACE,” or “COURAGE” when viewed from anoth­er. “Multi­na­tion­al tomb­stones nes­tled in the (land­scaped) pas­toral glade,” Byrne’s site calls these enhanced pho­tographs tak­en in North Car­oli­na’s office park-inten­sive Research Tri­an­gle. “A utopi­an vision in the Amer­i­can coun­try­side.”

Byrne 4

How­ev­er wit­ty, amus­ing, and even friv­o­lous it may look on its face, Byrne’s infra­struc­tur­al, cor­po­rate, and Pow­er­point-ified art also accom­plish­es what all the best art must: mak­ing us see things dif­fer­ent­ly. He may not have made me love Pow­er­point, but I’ve nev­er quite looked at any slideshow cre­at­ed in the pro­gram in quite the same way since — not that any­one else has since cre­at­ed one that I could sit through whol­ly with­out objec­tion. Still, all the best art also gives us some­thing to aspire to.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Byrne: From Talk­ing Heads Front­man to Lead­ing Urban Cyclist

David Byrne: How Archi­tec­ture Helped Music Evolve

Hear the Ear­li­est Known Talk­ing Heads Record­ings (1975)

Radio David Byrne: Stream Free Music Playlists Cre­at­ed Every Month by the Front­man of Talk­ing Heads

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 Cin­e­maFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Short History of the Venice Biennale, the World’s Most Important Art Exhibition

From Oscar Boyson comes “A Short His­to­ry of the World’s Most Impor­tant Art Exhi­bi­tion,” the first of a series of films that will take us inside the Venice Bien­nale, the pres­ti­gious art exhi­bi­tion that dates back to 1895.

Pro­duced by Art­sy and UBS, the short film “pulls back the cur­tain on the event’s reach, extend­ing beyond art and into pol­i­tics and his­to­ry at large,” and helps “us nav­i­gate the cul­tur­al influ­ence of this some­what enig­mat­ic, 120-year-old tra­di­tion. For a longer look at Italy’s most impor­tant art fair, you can watch The Vice Guide to the Venice Bien­nale.

Fol­low us on Face­book, Twit­ter, Google Plus and LinkedIn 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:

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

The Pra­do Muse­um Cre­ates the First Art Exhi­bi­tion for the Visu­al­ly Impaired, Using 3D Print­ing

Down­load 422 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

Down­load 100,000 Free Art Images in High-Res­o­lu­tion from The Get­ty

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Maurice Sendak’s Bawdy Illustrations For Herman Melville’s Pierre: or, The Ambiguities

pierre 1

Mau­rice Sendak—like some few oth­er excep­tion­al children’s authors—also did work for adults, and in at least one case, did adult work, in his illus­tra­tions for a con­tro­ver­sial 1995 edi­tion of Her­man Melville’s Pierre: or, The Ambi­gu­i­ties. The draw­ings are erot­ic, as well as homo­erot­ic, illus­trat­ing the gay sub­text in the nov­el. Sendak may seem like an unlike­ly illus­tra­tor for the Moby Dick author’s work; he was already an unlike­ly Amer­i­can children’s lit­er­ary icon—“Jewish, gay, poor,” he nonethe­less became “a major cul­tur­al influ­ence,” writes blog BLT. As Sendak declared in an inter­view with Bill Moy­ers, he learned to “find a sep­a­rate peace” from his own anx­i­ety not through reli­gious faith but through a “total faith in art.” “My gods,” Sendak told Moy­ers, “are Her­man Melville, Emi­ly Dick­in­son, Mozart,” among oth­ers. The author of Pierre fig­ured high­ly in that divine hier­ar­chy.

pierre 2

But Melville, at the time of Pierre’s pub­li­ca­tion, was not loved as a god. Shunned by crit­ics and the read­ing pub­lic after the dev­as­tat­ing recep­tion accord­ed Moby Dick, his self-pro­fessed great­est work, Melville felt fur­ther humil­i­at­ed when his pub­lish­er demand­ed he accept 20 cents on the dol­lar instead of 50 for the next nov­el, Pierre. Crushed, he signed the new con­tract. Then, though he had been sat­is­fied with Pierre, con­sid­er­ing the nov­el fin­ished at the end of 1851, he added 150 pages, much of it a scathing, sar­don­ic indict­ment of the lit­er­ary estab­lish­ment, includ­ing a non-too-sub­tle chap­ter titled “Young Lit­er­a­ture in Amer­i­ca.”

pierre 3

Whether the expan­sion was, as Maria Popo­va sug­gests at Brain Pick­ings, an elo­quent riposte to his crit­ics, or, as Library Jour­nal sug­gests, made at the behest of his pub­lish­ers (unlike­ly) is unclear. Uni­ver­si­ty of Delaware pro­fes­sor Her­schel Park­er, the Melville schol­ar who edit­ed the Sendak edi­tion of Pierre, admits, “we had NOT known when the expan­sion start­ed and had not known just why.” Sendak him­self describes Pierre as “a great and inge­nious work of art.” Of the notion that Melville’s addi­tions were “a vin­dic­tive dia­tribe against all his crit­ics” Sendak spec­u­lates, “he might have been mad and hurt—He must have been mad and hurt. But he wouldn’t have spent that much time on a book being just mad and hurt.”

pierre 4

Sendak, a life­long ama­teur Melville schol­ar, knows what he’s talk­ing about. His famil­iar­i­ty with the author is such that his opin­ion was cit­ed approv­ing­ly in the acknowl­edg­ments of a schol­ar­ly edi­tion of Moby Dick. Despite Sendak’s com­ments in defense of Melville’s lat­er addi­tions, his and Park­er’s ver­sion of Pierre attempts to strip them out and restore the nov­el to its ear­li­er form, one Melville called his “Krak­en book.” Sendak appar­ent­ly ini­ti­at­ed the project in order to pub­lish the draw­ings. In them, writes John Bryan in a review for Col­lege Eng­lish, “Pierre is a full-blown ado­les­cent: mus­cu­lar, ecsta­t­ic, des­per­ate, devot­ed, and lone­ly; he is the man-child invin­ci­ble.” The novel’s hero spends much of his time a blue Super­man out­fit, “red cape and all,” so tight “that it is skin itself, con­ceal­ing noth­ing.”

melvillepierresendak22

Bib­liokept com­pares the illus­tra­tions to William Blake. They also con­tain ref­er­ences to Goya and oth­er artists who explored the grotesque, as well as the mor­bid, trans­gres­sive sex­u­al­i­ty of the Pre-Raphaelite painters. “Nowhere else in the his­to­ry of Melville illus­tra­tion,” writes John Bryan, “do we find such open­ings into the latent sex­u­al­i­ty of Melville’s prose.” Brain Pick­ings describes the draw­ings as “the most sex­u­al­ly expres­sive of any of his work, fea­tur­ing 27 dis­cernible nip­ples and 11 male ‘pack­ages’…. Bold, unapolo­getic, and incred­i­bly sen­su­al, the illus­tra­tions are also sub­tly sub­ver­sive in their treat­ment of gen­der iden­ti­ty and stereo­types.”

See many more of these hero­ic and sen­su­al illus­tra­tions at Brain Pick­ings. “The Krak­en Edi­tion”—as Sendak’s Pierre is called—can be had in rather pricey hard­cov­er or used, and appar­ent­ly now out of print, paper­back.

via Bib­liok­lept

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Only Draw­ing from Mau­rice Sendak’s Short-Lived Attempt to Illus­trate The Hob­bit

Mau­rice Sendak’s Emo­tion­al Last Inter­view with NPR’s Ter­ry Gross, Ani­mat­ed by Christoph Nie­mann

An Ani­mat­ed Christ­mas Fable by Mau­rice Sendak (1977)

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

R. Crumb Describes How He Dropped LSD in the 60s & Instantly Discovered His Artistic Style

As Nan­cy Rea­gan and my junior high school health teacher will tell you, LSD is ille­gal and ille­gal drugs are bad.

Unlike oth­er drugs, how­ev­er, LSD can blow open — as Aldous Hux­ley described it — the doors of per­cep­tion and remove the fil­ters of con­ven­tion­al thought. It has pushed some of the 20th century’s most cre­ative minds into mak­ing impor­tant cog­ni­tive leaps. Nobel Prize-win­ning sci­en­tist Fran­cis Crick famous­ly first imag­ined DNA’s dou­ble-helix struc­ture after drop­ping acid. Steve Jobs described his first trip as one of the most pro­found expe­ri­ences in his life. And in June 20, 1970, Pirates pitch­er Dock Ellis threw a no-hit­ter (or so the leg­end goes) while trip­ping on a pre­pos­ter­ous­ly large dose of the stuff. Let’s see you do that on meth.

r. crum lsd

Add to this list of acid acolytes Robert Crumb, the most influ­en­tial car­toon­ist of his gen­er­a­tion. His strange, fre­quent­ly obscene, often hilar­i­ous stream-of-con­scious­ness car­toons defined a cer­tain sub­set of hip­py­dom as much as the Grate­ful Dead and Ken Kesey. And his style emerged almost imme­di­ate­ly after his first trip.

It all start­ed in 1964, when the drug was still legal. Crumb was stuck in a dead end job draw­ing greet­ing cards in Cleve­land. “I took this very weird drug. Sup­pos­ed­ly it was LSD, but it had a real­ly weird effect where it made my brain all fuzzy,” he said while hunched over a draw­ing pad in Ter­ry Twigoff’s 1994 doc­u­men­tary Crumb. (You can watch the full clip above. ) “And this effect last­ed for a cou­ple months.”

The effect of that first encounter proved to be huge­ly influ­en­tial, a “road-to-Dam­as­cus expe­ri­ence” as he told the Paris Review:

It knocked you off your horse, tak­ing LSD. I remem­ber going to work that Mon­day, after tak­ing LSD on Sat­ur­day, and it just seemed like a card­board real­i­ty. It didn’t seem real to me any­more. Seemed com­plete­ly fake, only a paper-moon kind of world. My cowork­ers, they were like, Crumb, what’s the mat­ter with you, what hap­pened to you? Because I was just star­ing at every­thing like I had nev­er seen it before. And then it changed the whole direc­tion of my art­work. […] I got flung back into this crud­er for­ties style, that sud­den­ly became very pow­er­ful to me. It was a kind of grotesque inter­pre­ta­tion of this for­ties thing, Pop­eye kind of stuff. I start­ed draw­ing like that again. It was bizarre to peo­ple who had known my work before. Even [Mad Mag­a­zine Edi­tor Har­vey] Kurtz­man said, What the hell are you doing? You’re regress­ing!

A cou­ple of years lat­er, Crumb ditched Cleve­land (and his first wife) and head­ed for San Fran­cis­co, which was just start­ing to become the Mec­ca of the coun­ter­cul­ture. Soon issues of his Zap Comix would be blow­ing minds. All of his most famous char­ac­ters from those car­toons– from Mr. Nat­ur­al to Fritz the Cat to the Snoid – were first pro­duced in the months imme­di­ate­ly fol­low­ing that first trip.

But remem­ber, drugs are bad. And we don’t rec­om­mend them. And if you’re won­der­ing about LSD’s down­sides, tune into what Louis CK has to say.

You can see hear Crumb expound more about LSD, San Fran­cis­co and the whole Haight-Ash­bury scene below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

Artist Draws Nine Por­traits on LSD Dur­ing 1950s Research Exper­i­ment

Watch The Bicy­cle Trip: An Ani­ma­tion of The World’s First LSD Trip in 1943

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

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 bad­gers and even more pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

96 Drawings of David Bowie by the “World’s Best Comic Artists”: Michel Gondry, Kate Beaton & More

Pope Bowie

There is a David Bowie for every sea­son. A Christ­mas David Bowie, a Hal­loween David Bowie, even a David Bowie East­er cel­e­bra­tion. But much more than that, there may be a David Bowie for every Bowie fan, espe­cial­ly for artists influ­enced by his chameleon­ic career. See for your­self how a whop­ping 96 Bowie-lov­ing artists—in this case main­ly what Bowie him­self calls the “World’s Best Com­ic Artists”—see the changling rock star/actor/space alien.

Gondry Bowie

“See my life in a com­ic… The lit­tle details in colour,” writes Bowie on his site of a web gallery of por­traits com­piled by “com­ic artist, writer and crit­ic, not to men­tion huge Bowie fan, Sean T. Collins.” It’s called The Thin White Sketch­booka clever title that alludes to just one of the myr­i­ad Bowie per­son­ae rep­re­sent­ed in the size­able col­lec­tion of 96 draw­ings (see a nos­tal­gic one by pro­lif­ic illus­tra­tor Paul Pope at the top—the book’s first sketch).

Collins’ impres­sive col­lec­tion includes work from Michel Gondry (Eter­nal Sun­shine of the Spot­less Mind), whose con­tri­bu­tion the edi­tor calls “pret­ty god­damn won­der­ful if you ask me.” See it above. And below, Kate Beat­on, cre­ator of web com­ic Hark, A Vagrant, gives us Bowie as a dandy, a char­ac­ter with whom, writes Collins, she has a “rich his­to­ry.”

Beaton-Bowie

Collins offers brief com­men­tary beneath each image in the col­lec­tion, which also gives us the strange inter­pre­ta­tion below by Bowie-inspired under­ground comics leg­end Charles Burns; the intense and Archie-esque con­tri­bu­tions fur­ther down by Broth­ers Jaime and Gilbert Her­nan­dez, cre­ators of the 80s New Wave clas­sic com­ic Love and Rock­ets; and the out­er space-pro­por­tioned Bowie at the bot­tom of the post, from vocal­ist Tunde Ade­bimpe of TV on the Radio, a band that has both cov­ered and record­ed with Bowie.

Burns Bowie

Hernandez Bowie

Hernandez 2 Bowie

Tunde Bowie

View the full set of Bowie draw­ings, no two remote­ly the same, at The Thin White Sketch­book’s Flickr page.

via Buz­zfeed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

50 Years of Chang­ing David Bowie Hair Styles in One Ani­mat­ed GIF

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

David Gilmour & David Bowie Sing “Com­fort­ably Numb” Live (2006)

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

110 Drawings and Paintings by J.R.R. Tolkien: Of Middle-Earth and Beyond

768px-J.R.R._Tolkien_-_Glaurung_sets_forth_to_seek_Turin

A few years ago, we fea­tured J.R.R. Tolkien’s per­son­al cov­er designs for the Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy, a series of nov­els that jus­ti­fi­ably made his name as a world-builder in prose (and occa­sion­al verse), but rather over­shad­owed his out­put as an illus­tra­tor. He did­n’t just do cov­ers for his own books, either. You can get a sense of the breadth of Tolkien’s visu­al art at the Tolkien Gate­way’s gallery of over 100 images by Tolkien, which reveal the land­scapes, let­ters, inte­ri­ors, and ani­mals with­in the cre­ator of Mid­dle-Earth­’s mind.

J.R.R._Tolkien_-_West_Gate_of_Moria

Many of these images come with descrip­tions of their prove­nance, which you can read if you click on their thumb­nails in the gallery. At the top of the post, you’ll find Tolkien’s 1927 paint­ing Glau­rung Sets Forth to Seek Turin, first pub­lished in The Sil­mar­il­lion Cal­en­dar 1978.

“The title is in Old Eng­lish let­ters, which J. R. R. Tolkien fre­quent­ly used when writ­ing in a for­mal style,” says the Tolkien Gate­way, not­ing that, “at the time of the paint­ing the name of the Father of Drag­ons was Glórund, not Glau­rung,” and that “the entrance to Nar­gothrond is here seen as a sin­gle arch, unlike the triple doors seen in oth­er draw­ings.” (Leave it to a Tolkien fan site to have just this sort of infor­ma­tion at the ready.)

J.R.R._Tolkien_-_The_Hall_at_Bag-End,_Residence_of_B._Baggins_Esquire_(Colored_by_H.E._Riddett)

We also have here Tolkien’s cray­on draw­ing of the West Gate of the Moria, a scene described in The Fel­low­ship of the Ring as fol­lows: “Beyond the omi­nous water were reared vast cliffs, their stern faces pal­lid in the fad­ing light: final and impass­able.” Just above is Tolkien’s ren­der­ing of Bag-End, res­i­dence of a cer­tain B. Bag­gins, Esquire, “coloured by H.E. Rid­dett and first pub­lished in the Eng­lish De Luxe edi­tion and in a new edi­tion of the Dutch trans­la­tion (both 1976) of The Hob­bit.” Just below, you can see his 1911 sketch of the much less fan­tas­ti­cal Lam­b’s Farm, Gedling.

J.R.R._Tolkien_-_Lamb's_Farm,_Gedling

Beyond perus­ing the images in the Tolkien Gate­way, you’ll also want to have a look at Wayne G. Ham­mond and Christi­na Scul­l’s book, J.R.R. Tolkien: Artist and Illus­tra­tor. Some Tolkien enthu­si­asts will, under­stand­ably, pre­fer to keep their per­son­al visu­al­iza­tions of the Lord of the Rings uni­verse unsul­lied by non-tex­tu­al imagery such as this, but if all of Peter Jack­son’s megabud­get film adap­ta­tions did­n’t sul­ly you, then Tolkien’s mild, almost rus­tic but still solemn­ly evoca­tive draw­ings and paint­ings can only enrich the Mid­dle-Earth in your own mind.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dis­cov­er J.R.R. Tolkien’s Per­son­al Book Cov­er Designs for The Lord of the Rings Tril­o­gy

The Only Draw­ing from Mau­rice Sendak’s Short-Lived Attempt to Illus­trate The Hob­bit

Hear J.R.R. Tolkien Read From The Lord of the Rings and The Hob­bit

Sovi­et-Era Illus­tra­tions Of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hob­bit (1976)

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 Cin­e­maFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear Dziga Vertov’s Revolutionary Experiments in Sound: From His Radio Broadcasts to His First Sound Film

The doc­u­men­tary form, like every oth­er kind of onscreen sto­ry­telling, is a very recent devel­op­ment in human his­to­ry. Yet we tend to take for grant­ed the way in which it con­structs our sense of reality—from not only much-maligned real­i­ty TV, but also end­less loops of cable news and Net­flix chan­nels. But the man wide­ly cred­it­ed with the inven­tion of doc­u­men­tary film, Dzi­ga Ver­tov, made decid­ed­ly anti-sto­ry movies, par­tic­u­lar­ly his Man With a Movie Cam­era (watch it online here)—a film that jars con­tem­po­rary sen­si­bil­i­ties. With no nar­ra­tive to speak of, the movie con­tains rough­ly 1,775 sep­a­rate shots from three cities, shot over four years time, and edit­ed togeth­er by his wife. Its view­ing is indeed a dizzy­ing expe­ri­ence, and its direc­tor Vertov—born David Kaufman—truly illus­trates the aes­thet­ic of his pseu­do­nym, which means “spin­ning top.”

Vertov’s rad­i­cal exper­i­men­ta­tion did not begin and end with Man With a Movie Cam­era or his oth­er avant-garde doc­u­men­taries and ani­ma­tions. (Find eight of Ver­tov’s films here.) Once a psy­chol­o­gy stu­dent in Pet­ro­grad, the future film­mak­er start­ed his artis­tic career as a writer of futur­ist poet­ry and sci­ence fic­tion. Entranced by emerg­ing record­ing tech­nol­o­gy and com­mit­ted to dis­rupt­ing tra­di­tion­al forms, in 1916 Ver­tov began, writes Mono­skop, “exper­i­ment­ing with the per­cep­tion and arrange­ment of sound.”

He cre­at­ed “sound poems,” and pro­duced “ver­bal mon­tage struc­tures.” Of his audio art, Ver­tov remarked, “I had an idea about the need to enlarge our abil­i­ty for orga­nized hear­ing. Not lim­it­ing this abil­i­ty to the bound­aries of usu­al music. I decid­ed to include the entire audi­ble world into the con­cept of ‘Hear­ing.’”

After the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion, Ver­tov embraced Bol­she­vist agit-prop; his “Kino-Prav­da,” or “truth films,” cel­e­brat­ed indus­tri­al­iza­tion and the Russ­ian work­er. His first sound film, Enthu­si­asm! The Don­bass Sym­pho­ny (1930)—a “paean to coal and steel workers”—integrates his exper­i­ments with sound record­ing in an entire­ly nov­el way. Ubuweb describes the film and its accom­pa­ny­ing sound­track as “Vertov’s most rev­o­lu­tion­ary achieve­ment: a sym­pho­ny of abstract indus­tri­al noise for which a spe­cial­ly designed giant mobile recod­ing sys­tem was con­struct­ed (it weighed over a ton) in order to cap­ture the din of mines, fur­naces and fac­to­ries. For Ver­tov, the intro­duc­tion of sound film didn’t mean talkies, but the oppor­tu­ni­ty to col­lage, mon­tage and splice togeth­er con­struc­tions of pure envi­ron­men­tal noise.”

You can hear three excerpts of this indus­tri­al sound col­lage above and the remain­ing sev­en at Ubuweb. Lis­ten to them first as exam­ples of “sound poems,” then watch Enthu­si­asm: The Don­bass Sym­pho­ny at the top for a bet­ter under­stand­ing of why Ver­tov remains such an influ­en­tial, indeed essen­tial, film—and audio—artist wide­ly cred­it­ed with free­ing new media from the aes­thet­ic con­fines of the stage and the page. Just below, lis­ten to one of Ver­tov’s ear­ly exper­i­ments with doc­u­men­tary sound art, from 1916. Just as he sought to cre­ate an inter­na­tion­al work­er’s visu­al lan­guage through film, “Through radio, he attempt­ed to estab­lish audi­to­ry com­mu­ni­ca­tion across the whole of the world’s pro­le­tari­at by way of record­ing the sounds of work­places and of life itself.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: Dzi­ga Vertov’s A Man with a Movie Cam­era, the 8th Best Film Ever Made

Watch Dzi­ga Vertov’s Unset­tling Sovi­et Toys: The First Sovi­et Ani­mat­ed Movie Ever (1924)

Eight Free Films by Dzi­ga Ver­tov, Cre­ator of Sovi­et Avant-Garde Doc­u­men­taries

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

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