William Blake Illustrates Dante’s Divine Comedy (1827)

in Art, Literature | January 19th, 2015

Just over a year ago, we featured John Milton’s Paradise Lost as illustrated by William Blake, the 18th- and 19th-century English poet, painter, and printmaker who made uncommonly full use of his already rare combination of once-a-generation literary and visual aptitude. Blake may have had an obsession with Paradise Lost, as Josh Jones pointed out in that post, but it hardly kept him from illustrating other texts. Today we have his artistic accompaniment to that text that has gone under the hands of Salvador Dalí, Gustave Doré, Alberto Martini, Sandro Botticelli, and Mœbius, to name a few: Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy.

Blake never completed the full set of engravings commissioned, but only because death itself cut the project short. Still, he managed to complete several watercolors and a handful of engraving proofs, all of which have drawn praise not just for the way they evoke the different environments of the Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso, but for how they cast a sometimes critical eye on the theological and moral sensibilities of Dante’s original work.

(“Every thing in Dantes Comedia shews That for Tyrannical Purposes he has made This World the Foundation of All & the Goddess Nature & not the Holy Ghost,” Blake once wrote to himself in a piece of marginalia often cited by scholars of this particular project.)

Yet Blake and Dante had common ground. “Blake was drawn to the project because, despite the five centuries that separated them, he resonated with Dante’s contempt for materialism and the way power warps morality — the opportunity to represent these ideas pictorially no doubt sang to him,” writes Maria Popova at Brain Pickings, who tells more of the story surrounding Blake’s Divine Comedy. He stopped only when just about to step off this mortal coil, a moment in which history has remembered him saying to his wife, “Keep just as you are — I will draw your portrait — for you have ever been an angel to me.” That portrait didn’t survive, but what he completed of his Dante illustrations did, granting them the status of William Blake’s final work — and, given the post-life nature of its subject matter, a suitable status indeed.

via Brain Pickings

William Blake’s Hallucinatory Illustrations of John Milton’s Paradise Lost

Mœbius Illustrates Dante’s Paradiso

Botticelli’s 92 Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy

Gustave Doré’s Dramatic Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy

Alberto Martini’s Haunting Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy (1901–1944)

Salvador Dalí’s 100 Illustrations of Dante’s The Divine Comedy

Dante’s Divine Comedy Illustrated in a Remarkable Illuminated Medieval Manuscript (c. 1450)

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

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Wonderfully Kitschy Propaganda Posters Champion the Chinese Space Program (1962–2003)

in Art, History, Science | January 9th, 2015

A joint operation of five participating countries and the European Space Agency, the International Space Station is an enormous achievement of human cooperation across ideological and national boundaries. Generations of people born in the nineties and beyond will have grown up with the ISS as a symbol of the triumph of STEM education and decades of space travel and research. What they will not have experienced is something that seems almost fundamental to the cultural and political landscape of the Boomers and Gen Xers—the Cold War space race. But it is worth noting that while Russia is one of the most prominent partners in ISS operations, current Communist republic China has virtually no presence on it at all.

But this does not mean that China has been absent from the space race—quite the contrary. While it seems to those of us who witnessed the exciting interstellar competition between superpowers that the only players were the big two, the Chinese entered the race in the 1960s and launched their first satellite in 1970. This craft, writes space history enthusiast Sven Grahn, “would lead to China being a major player in the commercial space field.”

Since its launch into orbit, the satellite has continuously broadcast a song called Dong Fang Hong, a eulogy for Mao Zedong (which “effectively replaced the National Anthem” during the Cultural Revolution—hear the broadcast here). The satellite, now referred to, after its song, as DFH‑1 (or CHINA‑1), marked a significant breakthrough for the Chinese space program, spearheaded by rocket engineer Qian Xuesen, who had been previously expelled from the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena for suspected Communist sympathies.

Before DFH‑1, the national imagination was primed for the prospect of Chinese space flight by images like the poster just above, titled “Roaming outer space in an airship,” and designed by Zhang Ruiheng in 1962. This striking piece of work comes to us from Chinese Posters, a compendium of images of “propaganda, politics, history, art.” Images like this one and that of a Chinese taikonaut at the top—“Bringing his playmates to the stars”—from 1980, appropriate imagery from the traditional nianhua, or New Years picture.

This fanciful style, which “catered to the tastes and beliefs in the countryside,” became the “most important influence on the propaganda posters produced by the Chinese Communist Party,” who began using it in the 1940s. The poster above, “Little guests in the Moon Palace,” dates from the early 1970s, after the launch of DFH‑1 and its sister satellite SJ‑I (CHINA‑2).

As you can see from the 1989 poster above—“Heaven increases the years, man gets older”—the CCP continued to use the nianhua style well into the eighties, but in the following decades, they began to move away from it and toward more militaristic imagery, like that in the image below from 2002. With different colors and symbols, it would look right at home on the wall of an armed forces recruiting station in any small town, U.S.A.

Like many U.S. advocates for space travel and exploration, such as the increasingly visible Neil deGrasse Tyson, the CCP has used space as a means of promoting scientific literacy. In the poster below, “Uphold science, eradicate superstition,” space imagery is used to bring much-persecuted Falon Gong adherents “back into the fold” and to oppose science to religious superstition.

Although some of the imagery may suggest otherwise, the Chinese space program has developed along similar lines as the U.S.’s, and has been put to similar uses. These include the use of space exploration as a means of unifying nationalist sentiment, driving support for science and technology funding and research, and pushing a vision of scientific progress as the national ethos. In 2012, the same year that Sally Ride—first American woman in space—passed away, China began selecting its first female taikonaut, making their space program a venue for increasing gender equality as well.

It was only very recently that the Chinese space program successfully completed its first manned mission, sending its first taikonaut, Yang Liewei, abord the Shenzhou 5 in a low earth orbit mission. Although the achievement—as you can see in the poster above commemorating a visit of the taikonaut to Hong Kong—marked a moment of significant national pride, there was one encouraging sign for the future of international cooperation: though you cannot see it in the photo, Yang wore the flag of the United Nations in addition to that of the People’s Republic of China.

See more of these fascinating works of propaganda at Chinese Posters

Soviet Artists Envision a Communist Utopia in Outer Space

Astronaut Sunita Williams Gives an Extensive Tour of the International Space Station

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

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Three Essential Dadaist Films: Groundbreaking Works by Hans Richter, Man Ray & Marcel Duchamp

in Art, Film | January 8th, 2015

Iconoclastic art movements need manifestos—to explain themselves, perhaps, to announce themselves, surely, but also, perhaps, to soften the blow of the work that is to come. In the case of Dadaism, the manifesto issued by Tristan Tzara in 1918 presents us with a curious paradox. Tzara expounds at length in several thousand words on the idea that “DADA DOES NOT MEAN ANYTHING.” In so doing, he tells us quite a bit about what Dada is, and what it is not. It is decidedly not, he writes, unified by any formal theory: “We have enough cubist and futurist academies: laboratories of formal ideas.” It is no friend to the artistic establishment: “Is the aim of art to make money and cajole the nice nice bourgeois?” It is certainly not “art for art’s sake”: “A work of art should not be beauty in itself, for beauty is dead.”

So what is this anti art about then? “Spontaneity,” “Active simplicity,” “Disgust,” “to lick the penumbra and float in the big mouth filled with honey and excrement.” And many more such provocations and images. No manifesto is any substitute for the work itself, but if any comes close to replicating its subject, it is Tzara’s. Immerse yourself in it, and you may be better prepared for Dada artists like Hans Richter, Man Ray, and Marcel Duchamp. All three represent Dadaism—whatever it is—in at least two ways: 1. Each rejected “nice nice bourgeois” cultural conventions, opposing them forcefully, and playfully, in ways both political and aesthetic. 2. Neither confined himself to any one medium or school—experimenting freely with painting, sculpture, photography, performance and conceptual art, and—for our purposes today—with film.

At the top of the post, see Hans Richter’s 1927 short film Ghosts Before Breakfast. Here, writes Lori Zimmer of Art Nerd, “flying hats, floating neck ties, [and] stacked guns” illustrate the statement at the film’s opening that “even objects revolt against regimentation.” We have here a silent cut because, the title informs us, “The Nazis destroyed the sound version of this film as ‘degenerate art.’” (The film’s original sound consisted of a soundtrack by composer Paul Hindemith.) The use of stop-motion animation and ingenious editing accords with the Museum of Modern Art’s contention that “the confluence of technology and aesthetic experimentation” that film offered “suited the Dadaists’ passion for the machine-made object.” In Richter’s short, such objects refuse to cooperate and play nice with their makers.

Just above, see Man Ray’s short film Le Retour à la Raison (“Return to Reason”). (The piano score, recorded live in 2011 in St. Petersburg, is by Dmitri Shubin.) The title of this film, I think, should be read ironically. Man Ray’s “pure cinema” actively resisted the “reason” of conventional film production, with its linear narrative logic and realist complacency. One might watch his films with the words of Tzara’s manifesto in mind: “Logic is a complication. Logic is always wrong. It draws the threads of notions, words, in their formal exterior, toward illusory ends and centres. Its chains kill, it is an enormous centipede stifling independence.” In a previous post, Mike Springer described the film as “basically a kinetic extension of Man Ray’s still photography,” utilizing “animated photograms, a technique in which opaque, or partially opaque, objects are arranged directly on top of a sheet of photographic paper and exposed to light.”

Man Ray shared a “fraternal friendship” and an artistic sensibility with perhaps the most renowned, or infamous, of the Dadaists, Marcel Duchamp. In addition to starring as himself in a few films, and co-writing the feature length Dadaist film Dreams That Money Can Buy, Duchamp made his own directorial contributions, beginning in 1926 with Anémic Cinéma, above. (I suggest viewing it with the added, non-original music muted.) Created in Man Ray’s studio, the film consists of a series of spinning disks, some containing French phrases which may be untranslatable. The whole reel is reminiscent of stock scenes of hypnotism in sensationalist “bourgeois” movies.

Are Richter, Man Ray, and Duchamp’s films—in Tzara’s words—“like a raging wind that rips up the clothes of clouds and prayers… preparing the great spectacle of disaster, conflagration and decomposition”? Such hyperbolic expressions only serve to underline what Duchamp’s disks set in motion: progress is an illusion: “after all everyone dances to his own personal boomboom, and… the writer is entitled to his boomboom.” If Dadaism champions solipsism, it also champions the right of artists to their own personal “boomboom.” In its anarchic rejection of codes of “progress, law, morality and all other fine qualities,” Dada opened the door for personal freedom of expression as wide as it would swing, preparing the way for all the situationists, yippies, and punks to come.

You can find the films above listed in our collection, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Classics, Indies, Noir, Westerns, Documentaries & More.

Man Ray and the Cinéma Pur: Four Surrealist Films From the 1920s

The ABCs of Dada Explains the Anarchic, Irrational “Anti-Art” Movement of Dadaism

Extensive Archive of Avant-Garde & Modernist Magazines (1890–1939) Now Available Online

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

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Mœbius Illustrates Dante’s Paradiso

in Art, Literature | January 6th, 2015

Salvador Dalí, Gustave Doré, Alberto Martini, Sandro Botticelli, the earlier and less-recognized Priamo della Quercia and Giovanni di Paolo — all of these artists have tried their hand at illustrating Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy. We have, in turn, featured all their efforts, each of a strikingly different sensibility and aesthetic interpretation of the harrowing journey out of the mortal realm and into the underworld described by this much-studied, much-translated, and just plain much-read 14th-century text. But none of those artists, despite the richness of their visions, spoke directly to the late 20th and early 21st century. For a truly modern Divine Comedy, behold the work of Jean Giraud, better known as Mœbius.

Mœbius, who passed out of this mortal realm himself in 2012, made his name with comics like Blueberry, Arzach, and The Airtight Garage of Jerry Cornelius — though to call these works, which belong simultaneously to the fields of science fiction and fantasy while transcending the both of them, nothing more than “comics” belies the artist’s ability to escape their conventions of storytelling and composition as if he’d never encountered them in the first place.

The distinctive results attracted a fair few collaborators, both actual and hopeful; you may remember our post on his storyboards and concept art for Alejandro Jodorowsky’s never-realized adaptation of Dune, but he also lent his hand to such completed motion pictures as Alien, The Abyss, and The Fifth Element.

“In 1999, Nuages Gallery in Milan published three illustrated editions of Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso,” says Bowdoin’s Dante Today. Nuages selected a different illustrator for each, resulting in L’Inferno di Lorenzo Mattotti, Il Purgatorio di Milton Glaser (who, though he would have preferred the Inferno, still produced an also strikingly modern take on Dante), and, finally, Il Paradiso di Mœbius. We’ve included three pieces of the latter’s artwork here, but if you’d like more insight into the mind that created them, have a look at In Search of Mœbius, the BBC documentary we featured after the artist’s death — a death that means, among other losses, that our world will never see the Divine Comedy animated film it needs.

You can find works by Dante in our Free Audio Books and Free eBooks collections. A Yale course called Dante in Translation appears on our mega list, 1,700 Free Online Courses from Top Universities.

via Reddit

Gustave Doré’s Dramatic Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy

Alberto Martini’s Haunting Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy (1901–1944)

Salvador Dalí’s 100 Illustrations of Dante’s The Divine Comedy

Dante’s Divine Comedy Illustrated in a Remarkable Illuminated Medieval Manuscript (c. 1450)

Colin Marshall hosts and produces Notebook on Cities and Culture as well as the video series The City in Cinema and writes essays on cities, language, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Angeles, A Los Angeles Primer. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshallor on Facebook.

by Colin Marshall | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

Posters Promoting the 1970s L.A. Punk Scene: Black Flag, The Plimsouls, The Runaways & More

in Art, Creativity, Media, Music | January 6th, 2015

Fred Patterson, aka Phast Phreddie, Senior Archivist of the ARChive of Contemporary Music, DJ, music journalist and former punk rock zinester has undeniable street cred.

He also has a handful of flyers documenting the late ‘70s LA punk scene.

Talk about ephemera!

Man, psychedelic concert posters of the period were suitable for framing, and the utilitarian boxing style window cards’ cool quotient ensured their longevity. Amateur whip outs (such as those Patterson managed to preserve) rarely survived beyond a season or two on a fan’s fridge door.

His ragtag collection is what self-promotion looked like in the predigital age. The Plimsouls, the Runaways, and Black Flag excepting, few of these bands achieved the sort of status that would have allowed them to move away from the realm of the murky photocopy.

The amateurish aesthetic of these homemade efforts was anchored with a spiky humor that went nicely with the outrageous band names. Sketchy locations were heralded as the sorts of places where the popular teen set gathered. Word bubbles abounded.

Cut and paste collage, Letraset, and scratchy hand lettering were the hallmark of necessity. Nowadays, these obsolete elements are co-opted for their implied authenticity, even if the final product is likely assembled in Photoshop.

See more of Phast Preddie’s collection here.

CBGB’s: The Roots of Punk Lets You Watch Vintage Footage from the Heyday of NYC’s Great Music Scene

Four Female Punk Bands That Changed Women’s Role in Rock

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

by Ayun Halliday | Permalink | Make a Comment ( None ) |

Kandinsky, Mondrian, Munch & Fleming Entered Public Domain in 2015 — But Welles, Achebe, and “Purple People Eater” Didn’t

in Art, Law | January 2nd, 2015

As you faithful readers of Open Culture know, we love nothing more than when important works of humankind fall into the public domain. According to current United States copyright law, a work stays out of the public domain for 70 years after its author’s death; for corporate “works-for-hire,” 95 years after its publication. This means that, theoretically, new things arrive in the public domain each and every year. Since we’ve just started a new one, what has the public domain gained?

On January 1, 2015, according to Duke University’s Center for the Study of the Public Domain, public-domain readers received “the writings of Rachel Carlson, Ian Fleming, and Flannery O’Connor” — in Canada, that is. As for Europeans, they can now freely enjoy “the works of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wassily Kandinsky, Piet Mondrian, Edvard Munch, and hundreds of others.” But what of the Americans? Alas, “no published works will enter our public domain until 2019,” owing to an extension of U.S. copyright law legislation that pushed up retroactive copyright by 95 years for anything created between 1923 and 1977 — a legal event that may, some whisper, have had the endorsement of a certain corporation in possession of a certain highly lucrative cartoon mouse.

For a sense of what this has cost us, the CSPD has put together a tantalizing list of still-vital works of literature, film, music, and science that could have gone public domain this year, if not for that meddling extension. It includes Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, Simone de Beauvoir’ Mémoires d’une jeune fille rangée, Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana, Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil, Jacques Tati’s Mon Oncle, Nathan H. Juran’s Attack of the 50-Foot Woman, Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode,” Sheb Wooley’s “Purple People Eater.”

To learn more about the art that some parts of the world have newly welcomed into the public domain, see also Hyperallergic’s Public Domain Day post by Allison Meier. Though we could easily feel frustrated by the richness of the material that America has refused, in the words of Justice Louis Brandeis, to let “free as the air to common use,” do remember the existence of a little something we citizens of 2015 like to call the internet. The increasingly few boundaries and little friction with which it has enabled us to connect and communicate will certainly continue to alleviate the cramp regulations like these have put in our style. So even if Americans won’t enjoy a meaningful Public Domain Day for four years yet, I’d say we still have reason to celebrate.

via Hyperallergic

The British Library Puts 1,000,000 Images into the Public Domain, Making Them Free to Reuse & Remix

A Cabinet of Curiosities: Discover The Public Domain Review’s New Book of Essays

Colin Marshall hosts and produces Notebook on Cities and Culture and writes essays on cities, language, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Angeles, A Los Angeles Primer. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on Facebook.

by Colin Marshall | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

Play Chess Against the Ghost of Marcel Duchamp: A Free Online Chess Game

in Art, Technology | December 30th, 2014

Earlier this year, Colin Marshall told you how “Chess has obsessed many of humanity’s finest minds over centuries and centuries and Marcel Duchamp seems to have shown little resistance to its intellectual and aesthetic pull.” His passion for the game (which he describes above) led him to design a now iconic Art Deco chess set, to print an array of chess tournament posters, and to become a pretty adept chess player himself, eventually earning the title of “grand master” as a result. In a pretty neat project, Scott Kildall has looked back at records of Duchamp’s chess matches and created a computer program that lets you play against a “Duchampian ghost.” Just click here, and then click on the chess piece you want to move. It will turn green, and then you can move it with your trackpad/mouse. Enjoy.

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Claymation Film Recreates Historic Chess Match Immortalized in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey

A Human Chess Match Gets Played in Leningrad, 1924

Man Ray Designs a Supremely Elegant, Geometric Chess Set in 1920 (and It’s Now Re-Issued for the Rest of Us)

Play Chess Against the Ghost of Marcel Duchamp: A Free Online Chess Game

Watch Bill Gates Lose a Chess Match in 79 Seconds to the New World Chess Champion Magnus Carlsen

by OC | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 4 ) |

The Tate Digitizes 70,000 Works of Art: Photos, Sketchbooks, Letters & More

in Archives, Art | December 22nd, 2014

Photograph of Nigel Henderson via Nigel Henderson Estate

If you’re like me, one of the first items on your itinerary when you hit a new city is the art museums. Of course one, two, even three or four visits to the world’s major collections can’t begin to exhaust the wealth of painting, sculpture, photography, and more contained within. Rotating and special exhibits make taking it all in even less feasible. That’s why we’re so grateful for the digital archives that institutions like the Getty, LA County Museum of Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the National Gallery, and the British Library make available free online. Now another museum, Britain’s Tate Modern, gets into the digital archive arena with around 70,000 digitized works of art in their online gallery.

“Sketch of the bus stop” from the estate of Josef Herman

But wait, there’s more. Much more. A separate digital archive—the Tate’s Archives & Access project—offers up a trove of materials you’re unlikely to encounter much, if at all, in their physical spaces. That’s because this collection digitizes little-seen “artists’ materials, including photographs, sketchbooks, diaries, letters and objects, documenting the lives and working processes of British born and émigré artists, from 1900 to the present.” These include, writes The Guardian, “the love letters of painter Paul Nash, the detailed sculpture records of Barbra Hepworth, and 3,000 photographs by Nigel Henderson, providing a behind-the-scenes backstage look at London’s 1950s jazz scene.” Thus far, the Tate has uploaded about 6,000 items, “including 52 collections relating to 79 artists.” At the Tate archive, you’ll find photographs like that of painter and photographer Nigel Henderson (see top of the post) and also paintings by the highly regarded Polish-British realist, Josef Herman (right above).

“Squared-up drawings of soldiers” via The estate of David Jones

You’ll find preliminary sketches like the 1920–21 Squared-up drawings of soldiers by painter and poet David Jones, above, one of 109 sketches and two sketchbooks available by the same artist. You’ll find letters like that below, written by sculptor Kenneth Armitage to his wife Joan Moore in 1951—one of hundreds. These are but the tiniest sampling of what is now “but a drop in the ocean,” The Guardian writes, “given the more than 1 million items in the [physical] archive.” Archive head Adrian Glew calls the collection “a national archival treasure” that is also “for the enrichment of the whole world.”

Letter from Kenneth Armitage to Joan Moore via the The Kenneth Armitage Foundation

The remainder of the digitized Archives & Access collection—52, 000 items in total—should be available by the summer of 2015. While viewing art and artifacts online is certainly no substitute for seeing them in person, it’s better than never seeing them at all. In any case, millions of pieces are only viewable by curators and specialists and never make their way to gallery floors. But with the appearance and expansion of free online archives like the Tate’s, that situation will shift dramatically, opening up national treasures to independent scholars and ordinary art lovers the world over.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art Puts 400,000 High-Res Images Online & Makes Them Free to Use

The National Gallery Makes 25,000 Images of Artwork Freely Available Online

LA County Museum Makes 20,000 Artistic Images Available for Free Download

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

by Josh Jones | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

William Blake Illustrates Dante’s Divine Comedy (1827)

Wonderfully Kitschy Propaganda Posters Champion the Chinese Space Program (1962–2003)

Three Essential Dadaist Films: Groundbreaking Works by Hans Richter, Man Ray & Marcel Duchamp

Mœbius Illustrates Dante’s Paradiso

Posters Promoting the 1970s L.A. Punk Scene: Black Flag, The Plimsouls, The Runaways & More

Kandinsky, Mondrian, Munch & Fleming Entered Public Domain in 2015 — But Welles, Achebe, and “Purple People Eater” Didn’t

Play Chess Against the Ghost of Marcel Duchamp: A Free Online Chess Game

The Tate Digitizes 70,000 Works of Art: Photos, Sketchbooks, Letters & More

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