Explore an Interactive, Online Version of the Beautifully Illustrated, 200-Year-Old British & Exotic Mineralogy

What if I said the prob­lem with STEM edu­ca­tion is that it doesn’t include near­ly enough art? For one thing, I would only echo what STEAM pro­po­nents have said for years. This does­n’t only mean that stu­dents should study the arts with the same seri­ous­ness as they do the sci­ences. But that sci­ence should be taught through the arts, as it was in the 19th cen­tu­ry when Nat­u­ral­ists relied on fine art illus­tra­tion.

Maybe increas­ing com­plex­i­ty demands charts and graphs, but there are rea­sons oth­er than hip anti­quar­i­an­ism to cher­ish 19th cen­tu­ry sci­en­tif­ic art, and to aim for some­thing close to its high aes­thet­ic stan­dards. Humans seem to find nature far more awe-inspir­ing when it’s medi­at­ed by paint­ing, poet­ry, nar­ra­tive, music, fine art pho­tog­ra­phy, etc. We want to be emo­tion­al­ly moved by sci­ence. As such, few guides to the nat­ur­al world have ele­vat­ed their sub­jects as high­ly as British & Exot­ic Min­er­al­o­gy, a mul­ti­vol­ume ref­er­ence work for… well, rocks, to put it vul­gar­ly, pub­lished between 1802 and 1817.

Dur­ing these years, “notable nat­u­ral­ist, illus­tra­tor, and min­er­al­o­gist James Sower­by drew intri­cate pic­tures of min­er­als in an effort to illus­trate the topo­graph­ic min­er­al­o­gy of Great Britain and min­er­als not yet known to it,” writes Nicholas Rougeux. “These illus­tra­tions were some of the finest on the sub­ject and are still con­sid­ered by some to be to this day.” Though he was sure­ly com­pen­sat­ed for his work, Sowerby’s detailed draw­ings come across as labors of devo­tion.

Rather than just print­ing them on post­cards or tote bags (though he does sell posters), Rougeux has done for Sowerby’s min­er­als what he had pre­vi­ous­ly done for oth­er clas­sic text­books and tax­onomies from the past, such as the 200-year-old Werner’s Nomen­cla­ture of Colours and Euclid’s Ele­ments from 1847. Dig­i­tiz­ing the 718 illus­tra­tions on one sprawl­ing inter­ac­tive page allows him to retain their edu­ca­tion­al val­ue: click on any indi­vid­ual min­er­al and you’ll bring up an enlarged image fol­lowed by excerpts from the text.

You have nev­er seen such rocks as these, no mat­ter how many uncut gems you’ve held in your hand. Because these illus­tra­tions turn them into some­thing else—crystalline palaces, alien organs, pet­ri­fied explo­sions, moldy loaves of bread… all the many shapes that time can take in rock form. They aren’t all beau­ti­ful rocks, but they are each beau­ti­ful­ly-ren­dered with lines that might remind us of the most skilled com­ic artists, who are per­haps some of the last inher­i­tors of this kind of graph­ic style. Sower­by him­self illus­trat­ed sev­er­al oth­er sci­en­tif­ic works, includ­ing series on biol­o­gy, mycol­o­gy, and a col­or sys­tem of his own devis­ing.

“We feel much plea­sure in pre­sent­ing our friends with a fig­ure and account of the most per­fect and rare spec­i­men yet found of this sub­stance,” begins the text accom­pa­ny­ing Hydrargillite, above, which resem­bles a small, mis­shapen moon or aster­oid. Rougeux also takes quite a bit of plea­sure in his work of recov­er­ing these ref­er­ence books and mak­ing them beau­ti­ful­ly use­ful once again for 21st cen­tu­ry read­ers. You can read his detailed account of the orig­i­nal illus­tra­tions and his adap­ta­tion of them for use on the web here.

While appre­ci­at­ing the fin­er points of col­or, line, and com­po­si­tion in Rougeux’s tapes­try of vin­tage min­er­al illus­tra­tions, you might just inad­ver­tent­ly expand your knowl­edge and appre­ci­a­tion of min­er­al­o­gy. You can also read the entire British & Exot­ic Min­er­al­o­gy, if you’ve got the time and incli­na­tion, at the Inter­net Archive.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Bio­di­ver­si­ty Her­itage Library Makes 150,000 High-Res Illus­tra­tions of the Nat­ur­al World Free to Down­load

Explore an Inter­ac­tive, Online Ver­sion of Werner’s Nomen­cla­ture of Colours, a 200-Year-Old Guide to the Col­ors of the Nat­ur­al World

A Beau­ti­ful­ly-Designed Edi­tion of Euclid’s Ele­ments from 1847 Gets Dig­i­tized: Explore the New Online, Inter­ac­tive Repro­duc­tion

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

Milton Glaser’s Stylish Album Covers for The Band, Nina Simone, John Cage & Many More

Mil­ton Glaser hard­ly needs an intro­duc­tion. But if the name some­how doesn’t ring a bell, “Glaser’s many con­tri­bu­tions to pop cul­ture,” as Ayun Hal­l­i­day writes in a pre­vi­ous post, cer­tain­ly will. These include “the  I ❤NY logo, the psy­che­del­ic por­trait of a rain­bow-haired Bob Dylan, DC Comics’ clas­sic bul­let logo.” All images that “con­fer unde­ni­able author­i­ty.” Many chil­dren of the six­ties also know Glaser well for his album cov­ers.

Glaser designed the album art for The Band’s clas­sic Music from Pink, though he stepped back from the cov­er and used one of Bob Dylan’s paint­ings instead. He designed cov­ers for clas­sics like Peter, Paul & Mary’s The Best Of: (Ten) Years Togeth­er and Light­nin’ Hop­kins’ Light­nin’! Vol­umes One and Two.

“Glaser had a long his­to­ry with record labels,” writes design­er Rea­gan Ray. “Accord­ing to Discogs, he was cred­it­ed with the design of 255 albums over the course of 60 years. His rela­tion­ship with record label exec­u­tive Kevin Eggers led him to explore a vari­ety of cov­ers for the Pop­py and Toma­to record labels, includ­ing the career of Townes Van Zandt.”

Glaser illus­trat­ed rock, folk, blues, jazz…. “Clas­si­cal album cov­ers nev­er get much atten­tion in graph­ic design his­to­ry,” Ray points out. But “his col­or­ful paint­ings were inter­est­ing and unique in an oth­er­wise stuffy genre.” He even illus­trat­ed an album by Al Caiola’s Mag­ic Gui­tars called Music for Space Squir­rels, what­ev­er that is. Did he lis­ten to all of these albums? Who knows? Glaser left us in June, but not before dis­pens­ing “Ten Rules for Work and Life” that set the bar high for aspir­ing artists.

One of his rules: “Style is not to be trust­ed. Style change is usu­al­ly linked to eco­nom­ic fac­tors, as all of you know who have read Marx. Also fatigue occurs when peo­ple see too much of the same thing too often.” If any­one would know, it was Glaser. “His work is every­where,” writes Ray, “and his lega­cy is vast.” He also had a very rec­og­niz­able style. See a much larg­er selec­tion of Glaser’s album cov­ers, curat­ed by Ray from over 200 albums, here. And vis­it an online col­lec­tion of Glaser’s oth­er graph­ic design work at the School of Visu­al Arts.

  

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mil­ton Glaser (RIP) Presents 10 Rules for Life & Work: Wis­dom from the Cel­e­brat­ed Design­er

Art Record Cov­ers: A Book of Over 500 Album Cov­ers Cre­at­ed by Famous Visu­al Artists

Enter the Cov­er Art Archive: A Mas­sive Col­lec­tion of 800,000 Album Cov­ers from the 1950s through 2018

The Icon­ic Album Cov­ers of Hipg­no­sis: Meet “The Bea­t­les of Album Cov­er Art” Who Cre­at­ed Unfor­get­table Designs for Pink Floyd, Led Zep­pelin, Peter Gabriel & Many More

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

Ballerina Misty Copeland Recreates the Poses of Edgar Degas’ Ballet Dancers

“I am a man of motion,” trag­ic mod­ernist bal­let dancer Vaslav Nijin­sky wrote in his famous Diary, “I am feel­ing through flesh…. I am God in a body.” Nijin­sky suf­fered the unfor­tu­nate onset of schiz­o­phre­nia after his career end­ed, but in his lucid moments, he writes of the great­est pain of his illness—to nev­er dance again. A degree of his obses­sive devo­tion seems intrin­sic to bal­let.

Misty Copeland, who titled her auto­bi­og­ra­phy Life in Motion, thinks so. “All dancers are con­trol freaks a bit,” she says. “We just want to be in con­trol of our­selves and our bod­ies. That’s just what the bal­let struc­ture, I think, kind of puts inside of you. If I’m put in a sit­u­a­tion where I am not real­ly sure what’s going to hap­pen, it can be over­whelm­ing. I get a bit anx­ious.” As Nijin­sky did, Copeland is also “forc­ing peo­ple to look at bal­let through a more con­tem­po­rary lens,” writes Stephen Mooallem in Harper’s Bazaar.

Copeland has been can­did about her strug­gles on the way to becom­ing the first African Amer­i­can woman named a prin­ci­pal dancer at the Amer­i­can Bal­let The­atre, includ­ing cop­ing with depres­sion, a leg-injury, body-image issues, and child­hood pover­ty. She is also “in the midst of the most illu­mi­nat­ing pas de deux with pop cul­ture for a clas­si­cal dancer since Mikhail Barysh­nikov went toe-to-toe with Gre­go­ry Hines in White Nights” (a ref­er­ence that may be lost on younger read­ers, but trust me, this was huge).

Like anoth­er mod­ernist artist, Edgar Degas, Copeland has rev­o­lu­tion­ized the image of the bal­let dancer. Degas’ bal­let paint­ings, “which the artist began cre­at­ing in the late 1860s and con­tin­ued mak­ing until the years before his death, in 1917, were infused with a very mod­ern sen­si­bil­i­ty. Instead of ide­al­ized visions of del­i­cate crea­tures pirou­et­ting onstage, he offered images of young girls con­gre­gat­ing, prac­tic­ing, labor­ing, danc­ing, train­ing….” He showed the unglam­orous life and work behind the cos­tumed pageantry, that is.

Pho­tog­ra­phers Ken Browar and Deb­o­rah Ory envi­sioned Copeland as sev­er­al of Degas’ dancers, pos­ing her in cou­ture dress­es in recre­ations of some of his famous paint­ings and sculp­tures. The pho­tographs are part of their NYC Dance Project, in part­ner­ship with Harper’s Bazaar. As Kot­tke points out, con­flat­ing the his­to­ries of Copeland and Degas’ dancers rais­es some ques­tions. Degas had con­tempt for women, espe­cial­ly his Parisian sub­jects, who danced in a sor­did world in which “sex work” between teenage dancers and old­er men “was a part of a ballerina’s real­i­ty,” writes author Julia Fiore (as it was too in Nijinsky’s day).

This con­text may unset­tle our view­ing, but the images also show Copeland in full con­trol of Degas’ scenes, though that’s not the way it felt, she says. “It was inter­est­ing to be on shoot and to not have the free­dom to just cre­ate like in nor­mal­ly do with my body. Try­ing to re-cre­ate what Degas did was real­ly dif­fi­cult.” Instead, she embod­ied his fig­ures as her­self. “I see a great affin­i­ty between Degas’s dancers and Misty,” says Thel­ma Gold­en, direc­tor of the Stu­dio Muse­um in Harlem. “She has knocked aside a long-stand­ing music-box stereo­type of the bal­le­ri­na and replaced it with a thor­ough­ly mod­ern, mul­ti­cul­tur­al image of pres­ence and pow­er.”

See more of Copeland’s Degas recre­ations at Harper’s Bazaar.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Impres­sion­ist Painter Edgar Degas Takes a Stroll in Paris, 1915

Watch the 1917 Bal­let “Parade”: Cre­at­ed by Erik Satie, Pablo Picas­so & Jean Cocteau, It Pro­voked a Riot and Inspired the Word “Sur­re­al­ism”

Watch the Ser­pen­tine Dance, Cre­at­ed by the Pio­neer­ing Dancer Loie Fuller, Per­formed in an 1897 Film by the Lumière Broth­ers

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

When Edward Gorey Designed Book Covers for Classic Novels: See His Ironic-Gothic Take on Dickens, Conrad, Poe & More

Twen­ty years after his death, it’s cool­er than ever to like Edward Gorey. This is evi­denced not just by the fre­quent post­ing of his inten­sive­ly cross­hatched, Vic­to­ri­an- and Edwar­dian-peri­od-inflect­ed, grim­ly com­ic art on social media, but by the num­ber of artists who now claim him as an influ­ence. Where, one won­ders, did they come across Gorey in the first place? Hav­ing pub­lished more than a hun­dred books in his life­time (if often in small runs from obscure press­es), he cer­tain­ly put the work out there to be found.

But it was the much more well-known books of oth­er writ­ers like Charles Dick­ens, Joseph Con­rad, T.S. Eliot, and Her­man Melville that first prop­a­gat­ed Gorey’s sen­si­bil­i­ty of, as The New York Times’ Steven Kurutz puts it, “camp-macabre, iron­ic-goth­ic or dark-whim­sy.”

Gorey designed the cov­ers for these books and oth­ers between 1953 to 1960, when he worked at the art depart­ment of pub­lish­ers Dou­ble­day Anchor. He had been tasked specif­i­cal­ly with their new series of paper­backs meant to be “seri­ous,” as opposed to the abun­dance of cheap, low­brow, and often sala­cious­ly pack­aged nov­els that had inspired the term “pulp fic­tion.”

Of the first 200 titles in this series, says Goreyo­g­ra­phy, “about a fourth of these have line drawn cov­ers by Gorey.” Even when oth­er artists (the line­up of whom includ­ed Leonard Baskin, Mil­ton Glaser, Philippe Julian, and Andy Warhol) drew the illus­tra­tion, “Gorey then designed the fin­ished prod­uct lend­ing a uni­form appear­ance to the whole line.” You can see a vari­ety of Gorey’s Dou­ble­day Anchor paper­back cov­ers at Lithub, the most Goreyesque of which (such as Joseph Con­rad’s The Secret Agent at the top of the post) not only bear his illus­tra­tions but con­tain noth­ing not drawn by Gorey, text and colophon includ­ed.

“When these cov­ers first appeared against the back­drop of mass-mar­ket cov­ers in gen­er­al,” accord­ing to Goreyo­g­ra­phy, “they were hailed as ‘mod­ern’ and ‘arty.’ Print mag­a­zine praised ‘a feel­ing of uni­ty… a qual­i­ty of their own.’ ” The end of Gorey’s time at Dou­ble­day did­n’t mean the end of his work on oth­ers’ books: in the 1970s, for exam­ple, he con­tributed suit­ably eerie cov­er and inte­ri­or art to John Bel­lairs’ young-adult nov­el The House with a Clock in Its Walls and five of the sequels that would fol­low it. It was in Bel­lairs’ books that I first encoun­tered the visions of Edward Gorey. More than a few read­ers of my gen­er­a­tion and the gen­er­a­tions since could say the same — and also that we’ve been plea­sur­ably haunt­ed by them ever since.

See more cov­ers over at Lithub.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Edward Gorey Illus­trates H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds in His Inim­itable Goth­ic Style (1960)

Lemo­ny Snick­et Reveals His Edward Gorey Obses­sion in an Upcom­ing Ani­mat­ed Doc­u­men­tary

Edward Gorey Talks About His Love Cats & More in the Ani­mat­ed Series, “Goreytelling”

The Best of the Edward Gorey Enve­lope Art Con­test

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Divine Decks: A Visual History of Tarot: The First Comprehensive Survey of Tarot Gets Published by Taschen

The cards of the tarot, first cre­at­ed for play around 600 years ago and used in recent cen­turies for occult div­ina­tion of truths about life, the uni­verse, and every­thing, should by all rights be noth­ing more than a his­tor­i­cal curios­i­ty today. Yet some­thing about the tarot still com­pels, even to many of us in the ever more dig­i­tal, ever more data-dri­ven 21st cen­tu­ry. Taschen, pub­lish­er of lav­ish art and pho­to books, know this: hence, as we fea­tured last year here on Open Cul­ture, prod­ucts like their box-set reis­sue of the tarot deck designed by Sal­vador Dalí. (There must be a mean­ing­ful over­lap between Taschen’s demo­graph­ic and Dalí’s fans, giv­en that the pub­lish­er more recent­ly put out the most com­plete col­lec­tion of his paint­ings between two cov­ers.)

Dalí isn’t the only artist whose inter­pre­ta­tions of the Fool, the Hiero­phant, the Lovers, the Hanged One, and the oth­er arcana have graced a tarot deck. H.R. Giger, the artist respon­si­ble for the bio­me­chan­i­cal creepi­ness of Alien, designed one in the 1990s; more recent­ly, we’ve fea­tured decks illus­trat­ed with visions inspired by the nov­els of Philip K. Dick and David Lynch’s Twin Peaks.

But all these togeth­er — even includ­ing the “Thoth deck” designed by occultist Aleis­ter Crow­ley and the Sola-Bus­ca deck, the ear­li­est known com­plete set of tarot cards — rep­re­sent only a small frac­tion of the sto­ry of tarot’s place in the past six cen­turies of civ­i­liza­tion. That sto­ry is told, and more impor­tant­ly shown, in Taschen’s new book Divine Decks: A Visu­al His­to­ry of Tarot.

The first vol­ume in Taschen’s “Library of Eso­ter­i­ca,” the book “gath­ers more than 500 cards and works of orig­i­nal art from around the world in the ulti­mate explo­ration of a cen­turies-old art form.” An image gallery on Taschen’s web site gives a small sam­pling of the range of tarot decks found with­in, includ­ing ones cre­at­ed in 1930s Eng­land, 1970s Italy, and 2010s Brook­lyn. One was intend­ed as a pro­mo­tion­al item for an Amer­i­can paper com­pa­ny in the 1960s; anoth­er, with dif­fer­ent pur­pos­es, announces itself as the “Black Pow­er Tarot.” This in addi­tion to such well-known exam­ples as Crow­ley’s Thoth deck and the ven­er­a­ble Sola-Bus­ca, both lush­ly repro­duced in its pages. And the tarot lives on, as I’m remind­ed when­ev­er I pass one of the many store­fronts here in Seoul offer­ing tarot read­ings. In any case, it’s cer­tain­ly come a long way from 15th-cen­tu­ry Europe. You can get a copy of Divine Decks: A Visu­al His­to­ry of Tarot on Taschen’s web­site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the Sola-Bus­ca Tarot Deck, the Ear­li­est Com­plete Set of Tarot Cards (1490)

H.R. Giger’s Tarot Cards: The Swiss Artist, Famous for His Design Work on Alien, Takes a Jour­ney into the Occult

The Tarot Card Deck Designed by Sal­vador Dalí

The Thoth Tarot Deck Designed by Famed Occultist Aleis­ter Crow­ley

Twin Peaks Tarot Cards Now Avail­able as 78-Card Deck

Philip K. Dick Tarot Cards: A Tarot Deck Mod­eled After the Vision­ary Sci-Fi Writer’s Inner World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

View 250,000 British Paintings & Sculptures Free Online

A lit­tle over four years ago, dis­crim­i­na­to­ry and arbi­trar­i­ly con­fus­ing trav­el bans descend­ed on the U.S., tear­ing refugee fam­i­lies apart and leav­ing thou­sands in diplo­mat­ic lim­bo. This seemed night­mar­ish enough at the time. But it took a viral pan­dem­ic to bring trav­el bans and restric­tions down on the entire world, more or less, with coun­tries appear­ing on bul­letins that vague­ly look like lists of ene­mies on gov­ern­ing bod­ies’ web­sites, includ­ing the CDC’s.

Like­wise, almost all 27 coun­tries that com­prise the Euro­pean Union are cur­rent­ly dis­al­low­ing U.S. trav­el­ers, with the excep­tion of Croa­t­ia,” Mary Claire Pat­ton reports. The UK has also kept its ban on U.S. cit­i­zens in place. All this is to say, to fel­low cit­i­zens and res­i­dents of any gen­der, that the days of traips­ing around the world for Insta­gram impres­sions, or sav­ing and scrap­ing for that vaca­tion hon­ey­moon, or mak­ing even more impor­tant jour­neys, may be on hold indef­i­nite­ly.

For­tu­nate­ly, art gal­leries world­wide have been prepar­ing their col­lec­tions for inde­pen­dent lives online, with ultra-high-res­o­lu­tion pho­tog­ra­phy; mate­ri­als that rarely appear on view in any form; and more con­text than vis­i­tors typ­i­cal­ly get on a guid­ed tour.

Would-be vis­i­tors keen on pub­lic art col­lec­tions will find their niche online at Art UK, a char­i­ty project that is dig­i­tiz­ing “more than 150,000 pub­licly owned sculp­tures in Great Britain by the end of 2020,” writes Men­tal Floss, includ­ing many sculp­tures liv­ing their lives out in pub­lic spaces.

Art UK seem to be lag­ging a bit behind on the sculp­ture posts, and they are light on the con­text, but a few big things have hap­pened since they made the announce­ment in Feb­ru­ary 2019. In any case, you will not have to trav­el to a Nando’s eatery in Har­low to see Rodin’s Eve, orig­i­nal­ly cre­at­ed for his Gates of Hell in Paris. (Not that one wouldn’t want to go to Har­low, which “also dis­plays works by acclaimed artists such as Hen­ry Moore, Elis­a­beth Frink, Bar­bara Hep­worth and Lynn Chad­wick,” Mark Brown points out at The Guardian.)

The over twen­ty-five thou­sand pub­lic UK sculp­tures doc­u­ment­ed in the data­base so far are already impres­sive enough. Oh, and did we men­tion that the foun­da­tion had already pre­vi­ous­ly dig­i­tized over two-hun­dred thou­sand oil paint­ings between 2003 and 2012? These are also all paint­ings owned by the UK pub­lic “from over 3,000 loca­tions,” Katey Good­win writes for Art UK. “This is the only project of its kind in the world to cre­ate a com­plete online cat­a­logue of every oil paint­ing in a nation­al col­lec­tion.”

These include the req­ui­site dot­ing and reveal­ing por­traits of lords, ladies, mer­chants, wor­thies, and bureau­crats. They also include bril­liant oil paint­ings like David Hep­her’s Night Flats, whose title and far­away lone­some­ness evoke Edward Hop­per. Fur­ther­more, not all por­traits of British wor­thies fit the stereo­type, as Col­in Cola­han’s 1933 arrest­ing like­ness of Eng­lish actress Marie Ney demon­strates.

You can read more about the process of bring­ing this work online in Goodwin’s essay, which also lists the nation­al orga­ni­za­tions and muse­ums from which the col­lec­tion draws. These are “locat­ed through­out Eng­land, Scot­land, Wales and North­ern Ire­land, and the crown depen­den­cies of the Isle of Man and the Chan­nel Islands.” Vis­it Art UK them­selves here to see their pho­to­graph­ic archive of pub­licly-owned paint­ing, sculp­ture, and oth­er visu­al media in the UK—now pub­licly avail­able online around the world to peo­ple indef­i­nite­ly banned from vis­it­ing the art in per­son.

For a wealth of oth­er free art, vis­it this page on our site: Vis­it 2+ Mil­lion Free Works of Art from 20 World-Class Muse­ums Free Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 569 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

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

The British Muse­um Puts 1.9 Mil­lion Works of Art Online

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

Get the Ancient Roman Look: A Hair & Makeup Video Tutorial

Remem­ber ear­ly April, when we threw our­selves into the Get­ty Chal­lenge, turn­ing our­selves into his­toric art recre­ations in lieu of climb­ing the walls?

Seems like ages ago, doesn’t it, that you wrapped a show­er cur­tain around your head and rifled through the but­ton box, rabid to make your­self into a mas­ter­piece.

While it’s not accu­rate to say we’ve col­lec­tive­ly set­tled into a new nor­mal, many of us have accept­ed that cer­tain alter­ations to our every­day lives will be pro­longed if our every­day lives are to pro­ceed.

First it was depress­ing.

Now it’s just bor­ing (with the occa­sion­al thrum of anx­i­ety).

Per­haps it’s time to shake things up a bit, and Crows Eye Pro­duc­tions’ tuto­r­i­al on achiev­ing an Ancient Roman look using mod­ern hair and beau­ty prod­ucts, above, is an excel­lent place to start.

While Crows Eye spe­cial­izes in build­ing his­tor­i­cal­ly accu­rate peri­od dress from the unmen­tion­able out, it’s worth not­ing that styl­ist Liv Free takes a few lib­er­ties, adding a bit of mas­cara and lip­stick despite a dearth of evi­dence that Roman women enhanced their lips or lash­es.

She also uses curl­ing irons, pony­tail hold­ers, and a hair donut to cre­ate a crown of ringlets and braids.

If you’re a stick­ler for authen­tic­i­ty who won’t be able to live with your­self if you’re not sewn into your hair style with a bone nee­dle, you may be bet­ter off con­sult­ing the YouTube chan­nel of hair arche­ol­o­gist Janet Stephens.

But, if your goal is mere­ly to wow your co-work­ers with a full-on Fla­vian Dynasty look dur­ing your next Zoom call, by all means grab some pale lead-free foun­da­tion, some expend­able Hot Buns, and some light blush.

Don’t wor­ry that you’ll appear too done up. Free notes that Roman women of both high and low birth were devot­ed to make­up, but in def­er­ence to their men, lim­it­ed them­selves to the nat­ur­al look.

That’s a tad anachro­nis­tic, huh?

These days, any­one who wants to remake them­selves in the image of Empress Domi­tia Long­i­na should feel free to take a crack at it, irre­spec­tive of gen­der, race, or extra hands to help with the parts of the hair­style you can can’t see in the mir­ror (or a Zoom win­dow).

Once we have mas­tered our new look, we can see about anoth­er muse­um chal­lenge. Here’s some inspi­ra­tion to get us start­ed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Bal­ti­more Hair­dress­er Became a World-Renowned “Hair Archae­ol­o­gist” of Ancient Rome

Roman Stat­ues Weren’t White; They Were Once Paint­ed in Vivid, Bright Col­ors

How to Bake Ancient Roman Bread Dat­ing Back to 79 AD: A Video Primer

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

The Iconic Album Covers of Hipgnosis: Meet “The Beatles of Album Cover Art” Who Created Unforgettable Designs for Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Peter Gabriel & Many More

Try call­ing to mind Nirvana’s Nev­er­mind with­out its naked, swim­ming baby; or Lon­don Call­ing with­out Paul Simenon smash­ing his bass. Think of Sgt. Pepper’s or Abbey Road with­out think­ing about their sleeves. Clas­sic rock albums and clas­sic, unfor­get­table album cov­ers are insep­a­ra­bly inter­twined.

Imag­ine Dark Side of the Moon with­out its prism….

Hipg­no­sis, the design team behind the near­ly 50-year-old album cover/t‑shirt/poster/bumper sticker/coffee mug/etc. com­plete­ly nailed it, as they say, with this design. They did so after sev­er­al less-than-icon­ic but still mem­o­rable attempts to rep­re­sent the band’s sound with a sin­gle image.

Made up of design­ers Storm Thorg­er­son, Aubrey Pow­ell, and, lat­er, Peter “Sleazy” Christo­pher­son, Hipg­no­sis first got its start when the for­mer art school friends of Pink Floyd asked to design the sleeve for the band’s 1968 A Saucer­ful of Secrets, their sec­ond stu­dio album and first with­out found­ing singer/songwriter Syd Bar­rett. There­after fol­lowed designs for More, Ummagum­ma, Atom Heart Moth­er, Med­dle, and Obscured by Clouds.

In-between Pink Floyd albums, Hipg­no­sis picked up com­mis­sions from dozens of oth­er musi­cians, includ­ing well-known names like T. Rex, Wish­bone Ash, The Hol­lies, The Pret­ty Things, Elec­tric Light Orches­tra, Rory Gal­lagher, and many oth­ers.

Once the Dark Side prism appeared in 1973, “all the top high-pro­file bands who could afford the Lon­don design­ers’ art­work showed up at their door,” as one account puts it.

Led Zep­pelin knocked, as did Peter Framp­ton, Nazareth, Bad Com­pa­ny, Gen­e­sis, Peter Gabriel… Hipg­no­sis’ recog­ni­tion as pre­mier graph­ic inter­preters of rock, most notably of albums that emerged in the post-PF pro­gres­sive boom of the 70s, was ful­ly secured by a string of unfor­get­table cov­ers. Many oth­er album designs from their 190-cov­er career you may have nev­er seen, and may not find near­ly as com­pelling as, say, Wish You Were Here, whose man-on-fire hand­shake burns into the reti­nas.

The team had an unusu­al approach with many of their post-Dark Side cov­ers, recall­ing the 60s with psy­che­del­ic and satir­i­cal imagery, espe­cial­ly on album art for bands who got their start the pre­vi­ous decade. But they updat­ed the aes­thet­ic, invent­ing the “tech­no-psy­che­del­ic visu­al iden­ti­ty” of the 70s, as The Guardian writes, and turn­ing flower pow­er into machine pow­er, post-indus­tri­al land­scapes, apoc­a­lyp­tic fan­tasies, and pop art col­lages. The influ­ence of Christo­pher­son, who became a full part­ner in 1978, helped pull the design­ers into the sleek­er 1980s with cov­ers for Peter Gabriel, The Police, and Scor­pi­ons.

Many clas­sic album artists find a visu­al brand and stick with it. Some, like H.R. Giger, are already extreme­ly niche. Oth­ers, like the leg­endary design team at Blue Note records, have the man­date of defin­ing not only an indi­vid­ual album’s look, but also that of an entire record label. One of the remark­able things about Hipg­no­sis is their range—a char­ac­ter­is­tic that fur­ther fits with their rep­u­ta­tion as “The Bea­t­les of album cov­er art,” writes Why It Mat­ters. “Nobody has ever done it bet­ter than the British design firm.”

As free agents, they could approach each record as a sin­gu­lar work. They were as com­fort­able work­ing with pho­tog­ra­phy as they were cre­at­ing orig­i­nal art­work. They could rep­re­sent brood­ing Eng­lish folk and neon New Wave. Album cov­ers have sold pop­u­lar music for about as long as it has exist­ed as a com­mod­i­ty, but Hipg­no­sis sig­nif­i­cant­ly raised the bar, espe­cial­ly in their con­tin­ued work with Pink Floyd and their Led Zep­pelin cov­ers.

Some Hipg­no­sis cov­ers are time­less, some dat­ed, some baf­fling con­cep­tu­al exper­i­ments that sure­ly made more sense in the plan­ning stages. A NSFW theme of female tor­sos pre­dom­i­nates. It’s hard to say to what degree each band had a hand in choos­ing and direct­ing each image. The design­ers’ last cov­er was for Led Zeppelin’s Coda, released in 1982. “There’s quite a bit of poet­ry in that. In their fif­teen years togeth­er the firm pro­duced many of the most icon­ic cov­ers in music his­to­ry.” As for cor­re­la­tions between the qual­i­ty of the music and the qual­i­ty of the cov­er art—that’s an inves­ti­ga­tion we leave to you. See many more Hipg­no­sis cov­ers at Why It Mat­ters and The Guardian. And if you can swing it, see Thorg­er­son and Pow­ell’s book, For the Love of Vinyl: The Album Art of Hipg­no­sis. Or Pow­ell’s Vinyl, Album, Cov­er Art: The Com­plete Hipg­no­sis.



Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Impos­si­bly Cool Album Cov­ers of Blue Note Records: Meet the Cre­ative Team Behind These Icon­ic Designs

Art Record Cov­ers: A Book of Over 500 Album Cov­ers Cre­at­ed by Famous Visu­al Artists

7 Rock Album Cov­ers Designed by Icon­ic Artists: Warhol, Rauschen­berg, Dalí, Richter, Map­plethor­pe & More

H.R. Giger’s Dark, Sur­re­al­ist Album Cov­ers: Deb­bie Har­ry, Emer­son, Lake & Palmer, Celtic Frost, Danzig & More

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

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