The Red Menace: A Striking Gallery of Anti-Communist Posters, Ads, Comic Books, Magazines & Films

Cold-War-Ads-The-Red-Menace

By its very nature, pro­pa­gan­da dis­torts the truth or tells out­right lies. It tar­gets our basest impulses—fear and anger, flight or fight. While works of pure pro­pa­gan­da may pre­tend to make log­i­cal argu­ments, they elim­i­nate nuance and over­sim­pli­fy com­pli­cat­ed issues to the point of car­i­ca­ture. These gen­er­al ten­den­cies hold true in every case, but nowhere, per­haps, is this gross exag­ger­a­tion and fear mon­ger­ing more evi­dent than in times of war.

Socialism 1909

And while we’ve all seen our share of wartime pro­pa­gan­da, we may be less famil­iar with the decades-long pro­pa­gan­da war the U.S. and West­ern Europe waged against social­ism and Com­mu­nism, even decades before the Cold War era. It may sur­prise you to learn that this offen­sive began even before the start of World War One, as you can see above in a British Con­ser­v­a­tive Par­ty poster from 1909.

Russian anti-Communist 1918

Rep­re­sent­ing social­ism as an ape-like demon stran­gling some sort of god­dess of “pros­per­i­ty,” this strik­ing piece of poster art sets the tone for almost all of the anti-Com­mu­nist pro­pa­gan­da to come in the wake of the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion. At least since this ear­ly graph­ic sal­vo, Com­mu­nists and social­ists have gen­er­al­ly been depict­ed as ter­ri­fy­ing mon­sters. See, for exam­ple, an ear­ly, post-WWI exam­ple of Russ­ian anti-Com­mu­nist pro­pa­gan­da above, por­tray­ing the Com­mu­nist threat as an apoc­a­lyp­tic horse­man of death.

German anti-Communist 1919

Norwegian anti-Communist

As the per­ceived threat increased, so too did the scale of the mon­strous car­i­ca­tures. In the post-WWI era Ger­man and Nor­we­gian posters above, Godzil­la-sized Com­mu­nists lay waste to entire cities. Below, in “Bol­she­vism Unmasked,” an exam­ple from the Sec­ond World War, the skele­tal Com­mu­nist destroy­er strad­dles the entire globe.

Bolshevism Unmasked

Occa­sion­al­ly the racial dimen­sions of these depic­tions were explic­it. More often, they were strong­ly implied. But a 1953 Cold War exam­ple below is par­tic­u­lar­ly unsub­tle. Show­ing a scene lit­er­al­ly right out of a schlocky Para­mount hor­ror film, fea­tur­ing actress Janet Logan, the text tells us, “In case the Com­mu­nists should con­quer, our women would be help­less beneath the boots of the Asi­at­ic Rus­sians.” At the top of this rather lurid piece of agit-prop, we’re also told that “many Amer­i­can men would be ster­il­ized” should Rus­sia win the “next world war.”

If Russia Should Win

In the 50s and 60s, pop cul­ture media like film and com­ic books lent them­selves par­tic­u­lar­ly well to anti-Com­mu­nist pro­pa­gan­da, and they were exploit­ed relent­less­ly by gov­ern­ment agen­cies, pro­duc­tion com­pa­nies, and cor­po­ra­tions. Films like I Mar­ried a Com­mu­nist (below) and The Red Men­ace (top), both from 1949, offered sen­sa­tion­al­ized pulpy takes on the red scare.

I-Married-a-Communist

In these peak Cold War decades, anti-Com­mu­nist sen­ti­ment flour­ished as the U.S.’s for­mer ally the Sovi­et Union became its pri­ma­ry ene­my. Com­ic books pro­vid­ed the per­fect plat­form for the broad strokes of anti-Com­mu­nist pro­pa­gan­da. As psy­chi­a­trist Fredric Wertham waged war against the cor­rupt­ing influ­ence of com­ic books, adver­tis­ers and the gov­ern­ment found them increas­ing­ly effec­tive at spread­ing mes­sages. “If there was any enti­ty that believed in the pow­er of com­ic books to indoc­tri­nate and instruct as Wertham did,” writes Greg Beato at Rea­son, “it was the U.S. gov­ern­ment.”

Is This Tomorrow?

But pri­vate enti­ties did their share in the com­ic book war against Com­mu­nism as well. Wit­ness a par­tic­u­lar­ly wild exam­ple, Is This Tomor­row?, above. Pub­lished by the “Cat­e­chet­i­cal Guild Edu­ca­tion­al Soci­ety” in St. Paul, MN, this 1947 com­ic impli­cates gov­ern­ment reg­u­la­tion of busi­ness, social wel­fare pro­grams, anti-reli­gious sen­ti­ment, and “peo­ple giv­ing up their sil­ly ideas about ‘sacred­ness’ of life” in a fiendish­ly orches­trat­ed plot to take over Amer­i­ca. Work­ers who embrace Com­mu­nist doc­trine are lit­tle more than dupes and pawns. You can read the whole fever­ish sce­nario here.

red menace anti soviet propaganda 3

These car­toon scare tac­tics may seem out­landish, but of course we know that red scare pro­pa­gan­da had real effects on the lives and liveli­hoods of real Amer­i­cans, par­tic­u­lar­ly those in the arts and acad­e­mia. Free­think­ing, left-lean­ing cre­ative types and intel­lec­tu­als have long been tar­gets of anti-Com­mu­nist para­noia. The Amer­i­can Legion Mag­a­zine cov­er above illus­trates the fear—one still very preva­lent now—that col­lege pro­fes­sors were bent on cor­rupt­ing young, mal­leable minds. “Par­ents,” the mag­a­zine states, “can rid cam­pus­es of com­mu­nists who cloak them­selves in ‘aca­d­e­m­ic free­dom.’” At the height of the red scare, many col­lege pro­fes­sors, like Stan­ley Moore at Reed Col­lege, were dragged before the House Un-Amer­i­can Activ­i­ties Com­mit­tee and sum­mar­i­ly fired.

face-communism

More con­fi­dent, it seems, than the pro­pa­gan­da of pre­vi­ous decades, the Cold War vari­ety shrunk the Com­mu­nist threat back to human dimen­sions. But Com­mu­nists were no less mon­strous than before—only more insid­i­ous. They looked like your neigh­bors, your co-work­ers, and your chil­dren’s teacher. Instead of pur­vey­ors of brute force, they were depict­ed as devi­ous manip­u­la­tors who used ide­o­log­i­cal machi­na­tions to per­vert democ­ra­cy and crip­ple cap­i­tal­ism. As in the Amer­i­can Legion col­lege pro­fes­sor cov­er sto­ry, edu­ca­tion was often posed as the cul­tur­al bat­tle­field on which—as the heat­ed Canadair ad above states—“Communism could take the citadel from with­in” by spread­ing “doubts about the old ways” and insin­u­at­ing “ideas of athe­ism, reg­i­men­ta­tion and false ide­al­ism.”

Cold-War-Ads-After-Total-War

Post-WWII, of course, the great­est threat was not a full-scale invasion—it was total nuclear anni­hi­la­tion. It was a grim possibility—as Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove satir­i­cal­ly point­ed out—in which no one would win. Web Urban­ist points us toward one par­tic­u­lar­ly chill­ing and dis­hon­est piece of pro­pa­gan­da dis­trib­uted by the gov­ern­ment. In the poster above, we are assured that “After total war can come total liv­ing.” Unless the hap­py cou­ple is gaz­ing out over a man­i­cured sub­urb in the after­life, this scene of “total liv­ing” post-nuclear war is absurd giv­en the strat­e­gy of Mutu­al­ly Assured Destruc­tion. Nev­er­the­less, what the poster depicts is an ana­logue of the Sovi­ets’ total­i­tar­i­an ethos—it’s a future of total ide­o­log­i­cal puri­ty, in which the Earth has been cleansed of the hulk­ing mon­strous hordes of Com­mu­nism, as well as, pre­sum­ably, the cryp­to-Com­mu­nist teach­ers, artists, intel­lec­tu­als, and bureau­crats who threat­en from with­in.

via Web Urban­ist/io9/Kuriosi­tas

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How to Spot a Com­mu­nist Using Lit­er­ary Crit­i­cism: A 1955 Man­u­al from the U.S. Mil­i­tary

Sovi­et Artists Envi­sion a Com­mu­nist Utopia in Out­er Space

The Curi­ous Sto­ry of How Boot­legged Hol­ly­wood Movies Helped Defeat Com­mu­nism in Roma­nia

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

Wittgenstein Day-by-Day: Facebook Page Tracks the Philosopher’s Wartime Experience 100 Years Ago

wittdaybyday

Last week we told you about an ambi­tious video series — The Great War — that will doc­u­ment how World War I unfold­ed, week-by-week, over a four-year peri­od, from 1914 to 1918. A new video will be released every Thurs­day, and it will reflect on what hap­pened dur­ing the same week 100 years pri­or. When com­plete, there should be close to 300 videos in the series.

Today, we’re stay­ing in the same time peri­od, but get­ting even more micro. Wittgen­stein Day-by-Day is a Face­book page that “tracks [Lud­wig] Wittgen­stein’s diary entries as they were writ­ten 100 years ago,” writes Levi Ash­er on his blog Lit­er­ary Kicks. Dur­ing World War I, Wittgen­stein served on the front­lines in a how­itzer reg­i­ment in Gali­cia and was dec­o­rat­ed sev­er­al times for his courage (more on that here). While fight­ing, he con­tin­ued writ­ing phi­los­o­phy — texts that would be gath­ered in Note­books, 1914–1916 – while also record­ing his expe­ri­ences in his diaries. Today’s entry on Wittgen­stein Day-by-Day reads:

Wednes­day 18th Novem­ber, 1914: In his pri­vate diary, LW reports hear­ing more thun­der from the front-line, as well as machine-gun fire and heavy artillery fire. He records feel­ing pleased that their com­man­der is again being replaced by their Lieu­tenant. He notes that he has done quite a lot of (philo­soph­i­cal) work, and is in a good mood. How­ev­er, he also notes that in his work there has been at a stand­still, as he needs a major inci­dent to move for­ward (GT2, S.22).

Con­tin­u­ing his thought from yes­ter­day, LW tells him­self that it is all sim­ply a mat­ter of the exis­tence of the log­i­cal place. ‘But what the dev­il is this “log­i­cal place”?’, he then asks him­self (NB, p.31).

You can like and fol­low Wittgen­stein Day-by-Day on Face­book. And, while you’re at it, do the same with Open Cul­ture’s FB page here.

via Lit­er­ary Kicks

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wittgen­stein: Watch Derek Jarman’s Trib­ute to the Philoso­pher, Fea­tur­ing Til­da Swin­ton (1993)

Bertrand Rus­sell on His Stu­dent Lud­wig Wittgen­stein: Man of Genius or Mere­ly an Eccen­tric?

Pho­tog­ra­phy of Lud­wig Wittgen­stein Released by Archives at Cam­bridge

Down­load 110 Free Phi­los­o­phy eBooks: From Aris­to­tle to Niet­zsche & Wittgen­stein

Charles Dickens Gave His Cat “Bob” a Second Life as a Letter Opener

dicken's cat letter opener
Image via New York Pub­lic Library

Increas­ing­ly Face­book seems a vir­tu­al pet ceme­tery, with images of recent­ly depart­ed cats and dogs but­tressed with words of heart­break and con­so­la­tion. It feels hard-heart­ed to scroll past with­out lay­ing a com­ment at each fresh­ly dug cyber-mound, even when one has no per­son­al rela­tion­ship with the deceased, or, to large degree, the own­er. The lazy man may “like” news of a beloved Airedale’s demise, but acknowl­edg­ment can­not always be said to equal respect.

And what, pray tell, is the pro­to­col after? How many min­utes should elapse before it is accept­able to post Throw­back Thurs­day shots of one’s younger, big-haired self? What if one acci­den­tal­ly sends a Far­mville noti­fi­ca­tion to the bereaved?

If only we had a Vic­to­ri­an we could ask.

Prefer­ably, Charles Dick­ens.

He went to his reward eleven years before “Poor Cher­ry,” the first dog plant­ed in Hyde Park’s small pet ceme­tery, but he was a keen observ­er of mourn­ing cus­toms.

He was also an ani­mal lover, as his daugh­ter, Mamie not­ed in My Father as I Recall Him:

On account of our birds, cats were not allowed in the house; but from a friend in Lon­don I received a present of a white kit­ten — Williami­na — and she and her numer­ous off­spring had a hap­py home at “Gad’s Hill.” … As the kit­tens grow old­er they became more and more frol­ic­some, swarm­ing up the cur­tains, play­ing about on the writ­ing table and scam­per­ing behind the book­shelves. But they were nev­er com­plained of and lived hap­pi­ly in the study until the time came for find­ing them oth­er homes. One of these kit­tens was kept, who, as he was quite deaf, was left unnamed, and became known by ser­vants as “the mas­ter’s cat,” because of his devo­tion to my father. He was always with him, and used to fol­low him about the gar­den like a dog, and sit with him while he wrote. One evening we were all, except father, going to a ball, and when we start­ed, left “the mas­ter” and his cat in the draw­ing-room togeth­er. “The mas­ter” was read­ing at a small table, on which a light­ed can­dle was placed. Sud­den­ly the can­dle went out. My father, who was much inter­est­ed in his book, relight­ed the can­dle, stroked the cat, who was look­ing at him pathet­i­cal­ly he noticed, and con­tin­ued his read­ing. A few min­utes lat­er, as the light became dim, he looked up just in time to see puss delib­er­ate­ly put out the can­dle with his paw, and then look appeal­ing­ly towards him. This sec­ond and unmis­tak­able hint was not dis­re­gard­ed, and puss was giv­en the pet­ting he craved. Father was full of this anec­dote when all met at break­fast the next morn­ing.

One anec­dote Mamie chose not to include is that when Dick­ens’ Bob, the deaf kit­ten men­tioned above, left this earth­ly plane, the mas­ter turned him into a let­ter open­er.

Well, not the whole cat, actu­al­ly. Just a sin­gle paw, which the author had stuffed and attached to an ivory blade. The blade is engraved “C.D. In Mem­o­ry of Bob 1862” which is more grave mark­er than most pussy­cats can hope for.

Should any­one ever pub­lish a His­to­ry of Charles Dick­ens in 100 Objects, count on this object to make the cut.

Still, it’s an odd­i­ty most con­tem­po­rary West­ern­ers would view with dis­taste. (But not all. The Mor­bid Anato­my Museum’s fre­quent small mam­mal taxi­dermy work­shops draw might­i­ly from the ranks of Brook­lyn hip­sters.)

I cer­tain­ly felt the need to hus­tle my then 12-year-old son past this unusu­al sou­venir when it was dis­played as part of the New York Pub­lic Library’s cozy exhib­it, Charles Dick­ens: The Key to Char­ac­ter. The kid’s an ani­mal lover who was in Oliv­er!  at the time. I feared he’d respond with Tale of Two Cities-lev­el peas­ant rage, which is accept­able, except when there’s a show that must go on.

Pre­served!, a British taxi­dermy blog spon­sored by the Arts and Human­i­ties Research Coun­cil offers a ten­der take on Dick­ens’ moti­va­tion. Over the years, he had sev­er­al ani­mals, includ­ing a pet raven, stuffed, but his close­ness with Bob called for a spe­cial approach. 19th-cen­tu­ry lit­er­a­ture schol­ar Jen­ny Pyke writes that “the taxi­der­mied cat paw stands out in its tac­tile soft­ness and emo­tion­al ten­der­ness. Most often, as pop­u­lar as it was in the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, taxi­dermy was con­sumed visu­al­ly only, dis­played in glass cas­es or crowd­ed cab­i­nets. With Bob’s paw, Dick­ens cre­at­ed an object meant to be held dai­ly.”

It’s not for the squea­mish, but I can see how this can­ni­ly orches­trat­ed hand-hold­ing could bring ongo­ing com­fort. More than the fleet­ing con­do­lences pro­lif­er­at­ing on Face­book, any­way.

via Slate

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Charles Dick­ens’ Hand-Edit­ed Copy of His Clas­sic Hol­i­day Tale, A Christ­mas Car­ol

T.S. Eliot Reads Old Possum’s Book of Prac­ti­cal Cats & Oth­er Clas­sic Poems (75 Min­utes, 1955)

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

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

Watch Harvard Students Fail the Literacy Test Louisiana Used to Suppress the Black Vote in 1964

This sum­mer, we revis­it­ed a lit­er­a­cy test from the Jim Crow South. Giv­en pre­dom­i­nant­ly to African-Amer­i­cans liv­ing in Louisiana in 1964, the test con­sist­ed of 30 ambigu­ous ques­tions to be answered in 10 min­utes. One wrong answer, and the test-tak­er was denied the right to vote. It was all part of the South’s attempt to impede free and fair elec­tions, and ensure that African-Amer­i­cans had no access to pol­i­tics or mech­a­nisms of pow­er.

How hard was the test? You can take it your­self below (see an answer key here)  and find out. Just recent­ly, the same lit­er­a­cy test was also admin­is­tered to Har­vard stu­dents — stu­dents who can, if any­thing, ace a stan­dard­ized test — and not one passed. The ques­tions are tricky. But even worse, if push comes to shove, the ques­tions and answers can be inter­pret­ed in dif­fer­ent ways by offi­cials grad­ing the exam. Carl Miller, a res­i­dent tutor at Har­vard and a fel­low at the law school, told The Dai­ly Mail: “Louisiana’s lit­er­a­cy test was designed to be failed. Just like all the oth­er lit­er­a­cy tests issued in the South at the time, this test was not about test­ing lit­er­a­cy at all. It was a … devi­ous mea­sure that the State of Louisiana used to dis­en­fran­chise peo­ple that had the wrong skin tone or belonged to the wrong social class.” (Some­times the test was also giv­en to poor whites.) Above, you can watch scenes from the Har­vard exper­i­ment and stu­dents’ reac­tions.

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The Great War: Video Series Will Document How WWI Unfolded, Week-by-Week, for the Next 4 Years

This ambi­tious project deserves a men­tion: Medi­akraft Net­works has launched a video series on Youtube that will doc­u­ment how World War I unfold­ed, week-by-week, over a four-year peri­od, from 1914 to 1918. A new video will be released every Thurs­day, and it will reflect on what hap­pened dur­ing the same week 100 years pri­or. Launched in late July, the series has already cov­ered 16 weeks of The Great War, with lat­est video show­ing how World War I became a defen­sive war and trench­es began to scar the land. Host­ed by Indy Nei­dell (read an inter­view with him here), each video fea­tures archival footage from British Pathé, the news­reel archive com­pa­ny that put over 85,000 his­tor­i­cal films on YouTube ear­li­er this year.

the great war video series

You can watch all 16 episodes above, along with a few help­ful primers that explain why the War start­ed in the first place. To view new videos as they get released, keep tabs on this Youtube page. There should even­tu­al­ly be close to 300 episodes. Quite an under­tak­ing!

As a side note, I noticed that a Dutch pod­cast (in Eng­lish) will cov­er “The First World War in 261 weeks.” That’s the title of the pod­cast itself. Find it here.

via Kottke.org

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: British Pathé Puts Over 85,000 His­tor­i­cal Films on YouTube

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

The His­to­ry of Rome in 179 Pod­casts

Learn The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy in 197 Pod­casts (With More to Come)

Read Joyce’s Ulysses Line by Line, for the Next 22 Years, with Frank Delaney’s Pod­cast

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‘You Are Done’: The Chilling “Suicide Letter” Sent to Martin Luther King by the F.B.I.

mlk uncovered letter

In Novem­ber of 1964, Mar­tin Luther King received a chill­ing let­ter, pur­port­ed­ly from a dis­il­lu­sioned mem­ber of the African-Amer­i­can com­mu­ni­ty. “King, look into your heart,” writes MLK’s crit­ic. “You know you are a com­plete fraud and a great lia­bil­i­ty to all of us Negroes.”

The let­ter then turns men­ac­ing. It gives the civ­il rights leader a choice. Com­mit sui­cide or get killed:

You are done.

King, there is only one thing left for you to do. You know what it is. You have just 34 days in which to do it (this exact num­ber has been select­ed for a spe­cif­ic rea­son, it has def­i­nite prac­ti­cal sig­nif­i­cance). You are done. There is but one way out for you. You bet­ter take it before your filthy, abnor­mal fraud­u­lent self is bared to the nation.

Straight from the begin­ning, King knew the real author behind the “sui­cide let­ter,” as it’s now called. It was the FBI, led by J. Edgar Hoover, who har­bored a deep and abid­ing hatred for King. For years, the pub­lic only had access to redact­ed copies of the let­ter. The redac­tions obscured the meth­ods of the FBI — the way the agency tried to “frac­ture move­ments and pit lead­ers against one anoth­er,” writes the Elec­tron­ic Fron­tier Foun­da­tion, and the way it used sur­veil­lance to invade King’s per­son­al life and then black­mailed him with the infor­ma­tion it gath­ered. That’s what’s hap­pen­ing in the para­graph that begins “No per­son can over­come the facts, not even a fraud like your­self.”

This sum­mer, while research­ing at the Nation­al Archives, Bev­er­ly Gage, a pro­fes­sor of Amer­i­can his­to­ry at Yale, stum­bled upon an unredact­ed copy. You can read it above. On Tues­day, Gage wrote about the let­ter and its his­tor­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance in The New York Times. The unredact­ed let­ter was also pub­lished in the Times.

via Boing­Bo­ing/EFF

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read Mar­tin Luther King and The Mont­gomery Sto­ry: The Influ­en­tial 1957 Civ­il Rights Com­ic Book

200,000 Mar­tin Luther King Papers Go Online

The Exis­ten­tial­ism Files: How the FBI Tar­get­ed Camus, and Then Sartre After the JFK Assas­si­na­tion

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

50,000 Norman Rockwell Photographs Now Digitized and Available Online

rfk rockwell

Ref­er­ence pho­to for Nor­man Rockwell’s por­trait of Robert F. Kennedy, c. 1968. Cour­tesy of the Nor­man Rock­well Muse­um Col­lec­tions.

What­ev­er you think of Nor­man Rock­well’s paint­ings and illus­tra­tions, you can’t deny them the sta­tus of endur­ing Amer­i­cana. For my mon­ey, Rock­well’s images cer­tain­ly make for more inter­est­ing rep­re­sen­ta­tions of the cul­ture than those of, say, Thomas Kinkade. But even if you have lit­tle inter­est in the Amer­i­ca Rock­well cre­at­ed on paper and can­vas, you’ll sure­ly find com­pelling the Amer­i­ca he cap­tured in pho­tographs. We now have unprece­dent­ed access to these thanks to a $150,000 grant from the Insti­tute of Muse­um and Library Ser­vices that has enabled the Nor­man Rock­well Muse­um to dig­i­tize what they call the Nor­man Rock­well Pho­to­graph­ic Print Col­lec­tion: approx­i­mate­ly 50,000 images that, accord­ing to archivist Venus Van Ness, “pro­vide a unique win­dow into Mr. Rockwell’s work­ing process, his per­son­al life, and the times in which he lived.”

norman-rockwell-pan-am

Ref­er­ence pho­to for “Por­trait of a Geisha Girl,” Pan Amer­i­can- Japan (1956)

These images include “ref­er­ence pho­tos Rock­well used to com­pose his paint­ings, pho­tos of work in progress, and can­did shots of him work­ing and inter­act­ing with John Wayne, Ann-Mar­gret, Pres­i­dents Dwight D. Eisen­how­er and John F. Kennedy, and many oth­er twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry icons who posed for the artist in his Stock­bridge stu­dio, on loca­tion at a movie set, at the White House, or — as in the case of Kennedy — at his Hyan­nis Port home on Cape Cod.”

You can browse them on this page, which dis­plays the search results for the word “pho­to­graph” in the Nor­man Rock­well Muse­um’s archives. And if you want to dig up those pho­tos of Wayne, Ann-Mar­gret, Kennedy, or oth­er icons of what they call the Amer­i­can cen­tu­ry, you can also add par­tic­u­lar terms to search for spe­cif­ic sub­jects. Or you can even search for spe­cif­ic places, for instance Rock­well’s many ref­er­ence pho­tos for the ads he did for flights to Japan by Pan Am — nat­u­ral­ly, the icon­i­cal­ly Amer­i­can air­line.

Norman Rockwell and Ann-Margret

Ref­er­ence pho­to of Nor­man Rockwell’s Por­trait of Ann-Mar­gret, c. 1965.

“To any­one who saw the exhi­bi­tion Nor­man Rock­well: Behind the Cam­era, which was orga­nized by the Nor­man Rock­well Muse­um and opened at the Brook­lyn Muse­um in Novem­ber 2010,” writes Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Ben­jamin Sut­ton, “the impor­tance of pho­tog­ra­phy to Rockwell’s prac­tice is not news. That show jux­ta­posed some of Rockwell’s best known paint­ings like ‘New Kids in the Neigh­bor­hood’ (1967) and ‘Boy in a Din­ing Car’ (1946) with the many, many stu­dio and doc­u­men­tary pho­tos the artist took and spliced togeth­er before putting pen­cil to paper or paint­brush to can­vas.” But now “the pub­lic and art his­to­ri­ans can get a bet­ter sense of the labo­ri­ous pre­lim­i­nary pho­tog­ra­phy work that went into each of Rockwell’s images, and the excep­tion­al lev­el of access he was giv­en to his sub­jects.” And though the process of brows­ing them may remain tricky for the time being, rest assured that, accord­ing to the offi­cial site, “the Museum’s new dig­i­tal expe­ri­ences project is get­ting under­way with sup­port from yet anoth­er IMLS match­ing grant award­ed in Sep­tem­ber.” And so Amer­i­can inno­va­tion con­tin­ues, on a lev­el Rock­well could nev­er have imag­ined.

This post comes via Hyper­al­ler­gic, where you can see more pho­tos in a nice, large for­mat.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nor­man Rockwell’s Type­writ­ten Recipe for His Favorite Oat­meal Cook­ies

Yale Launch­es an Archive of 170,000 Pho­tographs Doc­u­ment­ing the Great Depres­sion

Pho­tog­ra­phy by Lud­wig Wittgen­stein Dis­played by Archives at Cam­bridge

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.

What Are Literature, Philosophy & History For? Alain de Botton Explains with Monty Python-Style Videos

Once upon a time, ques­tions about the use-val­ue of art were the height of philis­tin­ism. “All art is quite use­less,” wrote the aes­thete Oscar Wilde, pre­sag­ing the atti­tudes of mod­ernists to come. Explain­ing this state­ment in a let­ter to a per­plexed fan, Wilde opined that art “is not meant to instruct, or to influ­ence action in any way.” But if you ask Alain de Bot­ton, founder of “cul­tur­al enter­prise” The School of Life, art—or lit­er­a­ture specifically—does indeed have a prac­ti­cal pur­pose. Four to be pre­cise.

In a pitch that might appeal to Dale Carnegie, de Bot­ton argues that lit­er­a­ture: 1) Saves you time, 2) Makes you nicer, 3) Cures lone­li­ness, and 4) Pre­pares you for fail­ure. The for­mat of his video above—“What is Lit­er­a­ture For?”—may be for­mu­la­ic, but the argu­ment may not be so con­trary to mod­ernist dic­ta after all. Indeed, as William Car­los Williams famous­ly wrote, “men die mis­er­ably every day / for lack / of what is found” in poet­ry. How many peo­ple per­ish slow­ly over wast­ed time, mean­ness, lone­li­ness, and bro­ken dreams?

Like de Botton’s short video intro­duc­tions to philoso­phers, which we fea­tured in a pre­vi­ous post, “What is Lit­er­a­ture For?” comes to us with Mon­ty Python-like ani­ma­tion and pithy nar­ra­tion that makes quick work of a lot of com­plex ideas. Whether you find this inspir­ing or insipid will depend large­ly on how you view de Botton’s broad-brush, pop­ulist approach to the human­i­ties in gen­er­al. In any case, it’s true that peo­ple crave, and deserve, more acces­si­ble intro­duc­tions to weighty sub­jects like lit­er­a­ture and phi­los­o­phy, sub­jects that—as de Bot­ton says above in “What is Phi­los­o­phy For?”—can seem “weird, irrel­e­vant, bor­ing.…”

Here, con­tra Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s claims that all phi­los­o­phy is noth­ing more than con­fu­sion about lan­guage, de Bot­ton expounds a very clas­si­cal idea of the dis­ci­pline: “Philoso­phers are peo­ple devot­ed to wis­dom,” he says. And what is wis­dom for? Its appli­ca­tion, unsur­pris­ing­ly, is also emi­nent­ly prac­ti­cal. “Being wise,” we’re told, “means attempt­ing to live and die well.” As some­one once indoc­tri­nat­ed into the Byzan­tine cult of aca­d­e­m­ic human­i­ties, I have to say this def­i­n­i­tion seems to me espe­cial­ly reduc­tive, but it does accord per­fect­ly with The School of Life’s promise of “a vari­ety of pro­grammes and ser­vices con­cerned with how to live wise­ly and well.”

Last­ly, we have de Botton’s expla­na­tion above, “What Is His­to­ry For?” Most peo­ple, he claims, find the sub­ject “bor­ing.” Giv­en the enor­mous pop­u­lar­i­ty of his­tor­i­cal dra­ma, doc­u­men­tary film, nov­els, and pop­u­lar non-fic­tion, I’m not sure I fol­low him here. The prob­lem, it seems, is not so much that we don’t like his­to­ry, but that we can nev­er reach con­sen­sus on what exact­ly hap­pened and what those hap­pen­ings mean. This kind of uncer­tain­ty tends to make peo­ple very uncom­fort­able.

Unboth­ered by this prob­lem, de Bot­ton press­es on, argu­ing that his­to­ry, at its best, pro­vides us with “solu­tions to the prob­lems of the present.” It does so, he claims, by cor­rect­ing our “bias toward the present.” He cites the obses­sive jack­ham­mer­ing of 24-hour news, which shouts at us from mul­ti­ple screens at all times. I have to admit, he’s got a point. With­out a sense of his­to­ry, it’s easy to become com­plete­ly over­whelmed by the inces­sant chat­ter of the now. Per­haps more con­tro­ver­sial­ly, de Bot­ton goes on to say that his­to­ry is full of “good ideas.” Watch the video above and see if you find his exam­ples per­sua­sive.

All three of de Botton’s videos are brisk, upbeat, and very opti­mistic about our capac­i­ty to make good use of the human­i­ties to bet­ter our­selves. Per­haps some of the more skep­ti­cal among us won’t be eas­i­ly won over by his argu­ments, but they’re cer­tain­ly wor­thy of debate and offer some very pos­i­tive ways to approach the lib­er­al arts. If you are per­suad­ed, then dive into our col­lec­tions of free lit­er­a­ture, his­to­ry and phi­los­o­phy cours­es high­light­ed in the sec­tion below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

78 Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es: From Ancient Greece to The Mod­ern World

55 Free Online Lit­er­a­ture Cours­es: From Dante and Mil­ton to Ker­ouac and Tolkien

Down­load 100 Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es & Start Liv­ing the Exam­ined Life

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

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