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

If asked to explain the art move­ment known as Dada, I’d feel tempt­ed to quote Louis Arm­strong on the music move­ment known as jazz: “Man, if you have to ask, you’ll nev­er know.” But maybe I’d do bet­ter to sit them down in front of the half-hour doc­u­men­tary The ABCs of Dada. They may still come away con­fused, but not quite so deeply as before — or maybe they’ll feel more con­fused, but in an enriched way.

Even the video, which gets pret­ty thor­ough about the ori­gins of and con­trib­u­tors to Dada, quotes heav­i­ly from the rel­e­vant Wikipedia arti­cle in its descrip­tion, fram­ing the move­ment as “a protest against the bar­barism of World War I, the bour­geois inter­ests that Dada adher­ents believed inspired the war, and what they believed was an oppres­sive intel­lec­tu­al rigid­i­ty in both art and every­day soci­ety.” They came to the con­clu­sion that “rea­son and log­ic had led peo­ple into the hor­rors of war, so the only route to sal­va­tion was to reject log­ic and embrace anar­chy and irra­tional­i­ty.” So there you have it; don’t try to under­stand.

Per­haps you remem­ber that vin­tage Onion arti­cle, “Repub­li­cans, Dadaists Declare War on Art,” sat­i­riz­ing, among oth­er things, the way pro­po­nents of Dada called its fruit not art, but “anti-art.” They made it delib­er­ate­ly mean­ing­less where “real” art strove to deliv­er mes­sages, delib­er­ate­ly offen­sive where it strained to appeal to com­mon sen­si­bil­i­ties. The ABCs of Dada exam­ines Dada through a great many of these Dadaists them­selves, such as Sophie Taeu­ber-Arp, a teacher and dancer forced to wear a mask for her Dada activ­i­ties due to the group’s scan­dalous rep­u­ta­tion in the acad­e­my; archi­tect Mar­cel Jan­co, who remem­bers of the group that “among us were nei­ther blasĂ© peo­ple nor cyn­ics, actors nor anar­chists who took the Dada scan­dal seri­ous­ly”; and “Dada-mar­shal” George Grosz, who declared that “if one calls my work art depends on whether one believes that the future belongs to the work­ing class.” You can find fur­ther clar­i­fi­ca­tion among UBUwe­b’s col­lec­tion of Dada, Sur­re­al­ism, & De Sti­jl Mag­a­zines, such as Zurich’s Cabaret Voltaire and Berlin’s Der Dada. Or per­haps you’ll find fur­ther obfus­ca­tion, but that aligns with the Dada spir­it — in a world that has ceased to make sense, so the Dadaists believed, the duty falls to you to make even less.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

William S. Bur­roughs on the Art of Cut-up Writ­ing

Anémic Ciné­ma: Mar­cel Duchamp’s Whirling Avant-Garde Film (1926)

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

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.

5‑Minute Animation Maps 2,600 Years of Western Cultural History

Work­ing with his col­leagues, Max­i­m­il­ian Schich, an art his­to­ri­an at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Texas at Dal­las, took Free­base (Google’s “com­mu­ni­ty-curat­ed data­base of well-known peo­ple, places, and things”) and gath­ered data on 150,000 impor­tant artists and cul­tur­al fig­ures who lived dur­ing the long arc of West­ern his­to­ry (6oo BCE to 2012). The schol­ars then mapped these fig­ures’ births and deaths (blue=birth, red=death) and traced their move­ments through time and place. The result is a 5‑minute ani­ma­tion (above), show­ing how the West­’s great cul­tur­al cen­ters shift­ed from Rome, even­tu­al­ly to Paris (cir­ca 1789), and more recent­ly to New York and Los Ange­les. Maps doc­u­ment­ing the flow of ideas and peo­ple in oth­er geo­gra­phies will come next.

Accord­ing to NPR, “The mod­els [used to cre­ate the videos] are the lat­est appli­ca­tion of a rapid­ly grow­ing field, called net­work sci­ence â€” which uses visu­al­iza­tions to find the under­ly­ing pat­terns and trends in com­plex data sets.” And they could yield some unex­pect­ed insights into the his­to­ry of migra­tion — for exam­ple, even with the advent of planes, trains and auto­mo­biles, mod­ern artists don’t move too much far­ther from their birth­places (an aver­age of 237 miles) rel­a­tive to the art­sy types who lived in the 14th cen­tu­ry (133 miles on aver­age).

A com­plete report on the project was pub­lished in the jour­nal Sci­ence by Schich and his col­leagues. Unfor­tu­nate­ly you’ll need a sub­scrip­tion to read it.

via NPR/Nature

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Social Media in the Age of Enlight­en­ment and Rev­o­lu­tion

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

Euro­pean Cul­tur­al His­to­ry in 91 Free Lec­tures by George Mosse

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

Some things are dif­fi­cult to improve upon. Take crayons. The new gen­er­a­tion may be clam­or­ing for shades like â€śman­go tan­go” and “jazzber­ry jam” but the actu­al tech­nol­o­gy appears unchanged since Sesame Street detailed the process in the ear­ly 80s, in the love­ly, non ver­bal doc­u­men­tary above. Not a prod­uct place­ment in sight, I might add, though few can mis­take that famil­iar green and gold box.

Those who pre­fer a bit more expla­na­tion might pre­fer Fred Rogers’ hyp­not­ic step-by-step guide, play­ing in per­pe­tu­ity on Pic­ture Pic­ture.

By the time the indus­try’s giant goril­la got around to weigh­ing in, the wood­en col­lec­tion box­es and ana­log coun­ters had been replaced, but oth­er­wise, it’s still busi­ness as usu­al on the ol’ cray­on-man­u­fac­tur­ing floor. Don’t expect to find the recipe for the “secret pro­pri­etary blend of pig­ments and oth­er ingre­di­ents” any time soon. Just know they’re capa­ble of crank­ing out 8500 crayons per minute. For those play­ing along at home, that’s enough to encir­cle the globe 6 times per cal­en­dar year, with a full third owing their exis­tence to solar ener­gy.

There’s a Home­land Secu­ri­ty-ish vibe to some of the dia­logue, but the Life of an Amer­i­can Cray­on, above, does our native assem­bly lines proud. Proud­er than the Amer­i­can slaugh­ter­house, any­way, or some oth­er fac­to­ry floors, I could name. The work­ers seem con­tent enough to stay in their posi­tions for decades, hap­pi­ly declar­ing alle­giance to this or that hue.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philip Glass Com­pos­es for Sesame Street (1979)

Mr. Rogers Intro­duces Kids to Exper­i­men­tal Elec­tron­ic Music by Bruce Haack & Esther Nel­son (1968)

How Ani­mat­ed Car­toons Are Made: Watch a Short, Charm­ing Primer from 1919

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

 

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

YT 36

Few writ­ers have inspired so many artists, so deeply and for so long, as Dante Alighieri. His epic poem the Divine Com­e­dy (find in our col­lec­tion of Free eBooks) has received strik­ing illu­mi­na­tions at the hands of Gus­tave DorĂ©, San­dro Bot­ti­cel­li, Alber­to Mar­ti­ni, and Sal­vador DalĂ­ — to name only those we’ve fea­tured before here on Open Cul­ture. The names Pri­amo del­la Quer­cia and Gio­van­ni di Pao­lo may mean rel­a­tive­ly lit­tle to you right now, but they’ll mean much more once you’ve tak­en a look at the illus­tra­tions fea­tured here and at The World of Dante, which come from an illu­mi­nat­ed man­u­script of the Divine Com­e­dy at the British Library known as Yates Thomp­son 36. Pro­duced in Siena around 1450 for an unknown orig­i­nal patron, “the codex belonged to Alfon­so V, king of Aragon, Naples, and Sici­ly,” and includes “110 large minia­tures and three his­to­ri­at­ed ini­tials.” (See all here.) Del­la Quer­cia illus­trat­ed the Infer­no and Pur­ga­to­rio and all three his­to­ri­at­ed ini­tials; di Pao­lo illus­trat­ed Par­adiso.

YatesDante2

“This makes for two dis­tinct­ly dif­fer­ent styles,” con­tin­ues The World of Dan­te’s page. “Pri­amo’s work reflects the more real­is­tic style of late fif­teenth-cen­tu­ry Flo­ren­tine paint­ing, an influ­ence which is par­tic­u­lar­ly notice­able in his use of con­tours and out­lines in the depic­tion of nudes. Gio­van­ni di Paolo’s style is clos­er to that of late four­teenth-cen­tu­ry Sienese artists,” pro­duc­ing results “great­ly admired for their visu­al inter­pre­ta­tion of the poem: the artist does­n’t just tran­scribe Dan­te’s words but seeks to ren­der their mean­ing.”

The British Library’s medieval man­u­scripts blog describes it as “cer­tain­ly a lav­ish pro­duc­tion” that “must have been an expen­sive under­tak­ing,” giv­en the sta­tus of the men doing the illu­mi­nat­ing as “two of the pre­em­i­nent artists of the day.” But when it came to visu­al­iz­ing Dan­te’s jour­ney, quite lit­er­al­ly, to hell and back in 15th-cen­tu­ry Italy, no artist ranked too high­ly. Even today, I can’t imag­ine any artist read­ing the Divine Com­e­dy, illu­mi­nat­ed or no, with­out get­ting a few vivid ideas of their own.

Untitled 107.tif

More images can be found on the British Library web site (scroll down the page). A Yale course entire­ly ded­i­cat­ed to Dante appears in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

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.

Why Tattoos Are Permanent? New TED Ed Video Explains with Animation

For the last three decades my right ankle has been the site of a deeply botched tat­too. It was sup­posed to be a yin yang, but with every pass­ing year, it looks more and more like a can­cer­ous mole. The drunk­en Viet­nam Vet who admin­is­tered it bare­ly glanced at the design tak­ing shape on my once vir­gin skin as he chat­ted with a pal. I was too intim­i­dat­ed to say, “Um…is it just me or are you fill­ing in the white cir­cle?” (I con­vinced myself that he knew what he was doing, and the ink would recede as it healed. Need­less to say…)

My pathet­ic, lit­tle yin-ya’ is an embar­rass­ment in an era of intri­cate four-col­or sleeves and souped up rock­a­bil­ly gor­geous­ness, but I con­fess, I’ve grown fond of it. The fact that I have an out-of-bal­ance sym­bol for bal­ance per­ma­nent­ly engraved onto my body is far more appro­pri­ate than the poor­ly grasped  flash art could have been. It’ll be with me til the day I die.

Longer, actu­al­ly, to judge by the dec­o­ra­tive mark­ings of an 8000 ‑year-old Peru­vian mum­my.

I feel for­tu­nate to have devel­oped ten­der feel­ings for my bush league mod­i­fi­ca­tion. Clau­dia Aguir­re’s TED-Ed les­son “What Makes Tat­toos Per­ma­nent,” above, does not make an easy case for removal.

In the words of your grand­ma, don’t embell­ish your birth­day suit with any old junk.

Your gang affil­i­a­tion may feel like a for­ev­er-thing now, but what if you decide to switch gangs in a few years? Eras­ing those mem­o­ries can be painful. Ask John­ny “Winona For­ev­er” Depp.

Dol­phins may strike you as peace­ful, spir­i­tu­al crea­tures, but I’ll bet there are ways to appre­ci­ate them that don’t involve hav­ing one punc­tured through your epi­der­mis at 50–3000 micro-wounds per minute. 

Choose wise­ly! If you’re veer­ing toward a Tas­man­ian dev­il or a rose, do your­self a favor and browse the Muse­um of Online Muse­ums. Feel a kin­ship with any­thing there? Good! Once you’ve fig­ured out how to best fea­ture it on your hide, take Aguir­re’s anato­my-based quiz. See if it’s true that you’ll be barred from bur­ial in a Jew­ish ceme­tery. Your tat­too artist will like­ly be impressed that you cared enough to do some research. Watch a cou­ple of episodes of the Smith­so­ni­an’s Tat­too Odyssey for good mea­sure.

Then lay in a tube of Prepa­ra­tion H, and pre­pare to love what­ev­er you wind up with. It’s a lot eas­i­er than the pain of regret.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Get Ancient Advice on Los­ing Weight, Sober­ing Up, Remov­ing a Tat­too & More at Ask The Past

TED ED Ani­ma­tion Gives You a Glimpse of What Life Was Like for Teenagers in Ancient Rome

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is up to her eye­balls in Bye Bye Birdie and so should you be. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Watch the 7 Hour Trailer for the 720 Hour Film, Ambiancé, the Longest Movie in History


There’s an old tru­ism in Hol­ly­wood that a movie shouldn’t last much longer than the endurance of the aver­age audi­ence member’s blad­der. Most fea­ture films run around an hour and a half to two hours, though sum­mer block­busters can last longer. Stu­dios gen­er­al­ly resist mak­ing long movies for the sim­ple rea­son that they can’t pack as many screen­ings per day. While some art house auteurs have made movies that extend to blad­der-bust­ing lengths – Bela Tarr’s bril­liant Satan­ta­n­go clocks in at sev­en and a half hours – the place to find tru­ly long movies is in the art world.

Chris­t­ian Marclay’s mas­ter­piece The Clock is a 24-hour mon­tage of watch­es, clocks and oth­er time­pieces from icon­ic movies synced to the actu­al time the film is run­ning. Anoth­er incred­i­bly long movie is the apt­ly named A Cure for Insom­nia, which fea­tures artist Lee Groban read­ing a real­ly long poem inter­cut with clips of porn and heavy met­al music. That movie lasts over 3 days. And if you want­ed to watch the entire­ty of Chi­nese artist Ai Wei­wei’s movie Bei­jing 2003 – which doc­u­ments every sin­gle street with­in Beijing’s inner ring – it would take you over a week.

But those films have noth­ing on Swedish artist and film­mak­er Anders Weberg, who is mak­ing AmbiancĂ©, which is, at 720 hours, the longest movie in the his­to­ry of cin­e­ma. 720 hours. That’s 30 days. To put this into per­spec­tive, you can watch the entire spe­cial extend­ed cut of the Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy over 60 times in the time it takes for AmbiancĂ© to unspool just once. The first trail­er came out July 4th, and it clocks in at 72 min­utes long, mak­ing it almost a fea­ture unto itself. You can see it above. If this seems lengthy â€“ most trail­ers are three or so min­utes after all – note that Weberg promis­es that the next trail­er will last sev­en hours and 20 min­utes.

Weberg describes AmbiancĂ© as a movie where space and time inter­twine “into a sur­re­al dream-like jour­ney beyond places and [it] is an abstract non­lin­ear nar­ra­tive sum­ma­ry of the artist’s time spent with the mov­ing image. 
A sort of mem­oir movie.” As you can see above, the movie fea­tures dense­ly lay­ered images with a haunt­ing, min­i­mal score. Weberg plans to screen the entire­ty of the movie in 2020 on every con­ti­nent simul­ta­ne­ous­ly just once before destroy­ing it. The trail­er is only going to be avail­able until July 20th, so watch it while you can.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Clock, the 24-Hour Mon­tage of Clips from Film & TV His­to­ry, Intro­duced by Alain de Bot­ton

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.

Tour the World’s Street Art with Google Street Art

By far the most enjoy­able part of our recent fam­i­ly trip to Lon­don was the after­noon my young son and I spent in Shored­itch, grop­ing our way to No Brow, a comics shop I had noticed on an ear­ly morn­ing stroll with our host­ess. Our route was evi­dence that I had for­got­ten the coor­di­nates, the street name, the name of the shop… Even­tu­al­ly, I real­ized we were lost, and that is where the real fun began, as we retraced our steps using street art as bread crumbs.

Ah right, there’s  that rooftop mush­room instal­la­tion!

And there’s that Stik fig­ure…

After a while, a FedEx man took pity on us, ruin­ing our fun by steer­ing us toward the prop­er address..

I’m not sure I could ever dupli­cate our trail, but I enjoy try­ing with Google Street Art. Arm­chair trav­el­ers can use it to project them­selves to the heart of ephemer­al, pos­si­bly ille­gal exhi­bi­tions all over the globe,.

Bogotá... Paris... New York’s leg­endary 5 Pointz, before the land­lord clutched and white­washed the entire thing in the dead of night. Each up close pho­to bears a high­ly infor­ma­tion­al cap­tion, much more than you’d find in the street itself. Think of it as an after-the-fact dig­i­tal muse­um. It’s appro­pri­ate, giv­en the ephemer­al nature of the work. An online pres­ence is its best shot at preser­va­tion.

Those of us with some­thing to con­tribute can add to the record with a user gallery or by tag­ging our pho­tos with #Stree­tArtist.

Enter Google Street Art here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Obey the Giant: Short Film Presents the True Sto­ry of Shep­ard Fairey’s First Act of Street Art

Banksy Cre­ates a Tiny Repli­ca of The Great Sphinx Of Giza In Queens

Big Bang Big Boom: Graf­fi­ti Stop-Motion Ani­ma­tion Cre­ative­ly Depicts the Evo­lu­tion of Life

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

A Pre-Pantone Guide to Colors: Dutch Book From 1692 Documents Every Color Under the Sun

In 1963, the Pan­tone cor­po­ra­tion began pub­lish­ing a bi-year­ly col­or guide, which divides and cat­e­go­rizes every col­or under the sun. The aston­ish­ing­ly ubiq­ui­tous guide is an essen­tial tool for design­ers of every stripe, from a fash­ion guru fig­ur­ing out what col­or to high­light in her fall line to the guy in charge of cre­at­ing a col­or palette for the inte­ri­or of a new Boe­ing-787.

Twice a year, Pan­tone, along with a shad­owy cabal of col­orists from around the world, meet in a Euro­pean city and, with the secre­cy of the Vat­i­can choos­ing a new pope, they select the col­or of the sea­son.

They are the rea­son why you paint­ed your kitchen Wasabi Green a cou­ple years ago and why, whether you want to or not, you’ll be wear­ing Radi­ant Orchid next year. Slate did a great write up about the whole con­fus­ing process a while back.

Over 250 years before the Col­or-Indus­tri­al Com­plex reared its head, a mys­te­ri­ous Dutch artist also detailed every col­or in the spec­trum, only he did it all by hand. Known by the snick­er-induc­ing name of A. Boogert, the author set out to demon­strate how to mix water­col­or paint and how to manip­u­late the paint’s val­ue by adding water. Yet he approached his task with a stag­ger­ing lev­el of detail and depth; the result­ing book — TraitĂ© des couleurs ser­vant Ă  la pein­ture Ă  l’eau — is over 700 pages. It’s about as thor­ough a col­or guide as one could imag­ine in a world with­out col­or print­ers.

The book was large­ly for­got­ten, gath­er­ing dust at the Bib­lio­thèque Méjanes in Aix-en-Provence, France until Dutch art his­to­ri­an Erik Kwakkel, who trans­lat­ed the intro­duc­tion, post­ed selec­tions from the book on his blog. Herr Boogert appar­ent­ly intend­ed the book to be edu­ca­tion­al for aspir­ing artists. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, only a few artists at the time ever got a chance to see the one-of-a-kind book.

You can see scans of the book above. And if you want to more, click here to see them in high res­o­lu­tion.

For more intrigu­ing man­u­scripts, be sure to fol­low Erik Kwakkel’s Tum­blr here.

pre pantone

via This is Colos­sal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Goethe’s The­o­ry of Col­ors: The 1810 Trea­tise That Inspired Kandin­sky & Ear­ly Abstract Paint­ing

Wass­i­ly Kandin­sky Caught in the Act of Cre­ation, 1926

When Respect­ed Authors, from Goethe to Hen­ry Miller, Try Their Hand at Paint­ing

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.

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