Visit The Museum of Online Museums (MoOM): A Mega Collection of 220 Online Exhibitions

MOOM rijks

It is my habit, when trav­el looms, to case the Inter­net for obscure muse­ums my des­ti­na­tion might have to offer. Once loaded, I fix­ate. Chat me up about my itin­er­ary, and you will def­i­nite­ly come away with the impres­sion that these off­beat locales are the trip’s pri­ma­ry rai­son d’être.

It’s shock­ing how rarely I actu­al­ly make it to one of these off-the-beat­en path gems. Time flies and I rarely trav­el alone these days.

Take a recent fam­i­ly trip to Lon­don. Every time I brought up the Muse­um of Brands, my hus­band expressed reser­va­tions. “But what is it, exact­ly, oth­er than a bunch of old labels?” he’d press.

I hemmed and hawed, real­iz­ing on the cel­lu­lar lev­el that nei­ther he nor the kids could see the beau­ty in old labels. Dinosaurs, maybe. Ves­pas, no doubt. But old labels? This is how I found myself giv­ing the British Muse­um near­ly three times the Muse­um of Brand’s admis­sion charge to join a mighty throng of pen­sion­ers, squint­ing at a hand­ful of bor­ing but­ton frag­ments and a chunk of wood that no longer resem­bled a Viking Ship.

Next time, I swear…

01-1926-Hahn--Albert-alcohol-increases-risk-of-accidents

How for­tu­nate for me and my ilk that Chica­go design firm Coudal Part­ners is com­mit­ted to labor­ing far out­side its expect­ed scope. In addi­tion to cham­pi­oning Stan­ley Kubrick and poet­ry, they’ve tak­en it upon them­selves to con­sol­i­date a panoply of dig­i­tal col­lec­tions into the Muse­um of Online Muse­ums. (The pre­ferred acronym is MoOM, FYI.)

Unlike that of cer­tain of my trav­el­ing com­pan­ions, Coudal Part­ners’ def­i­n­i­tion of what con­sti­tutes a muse­um is demo­c­ra­t­ic. Gen­er­ous, even. The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art, the Rijksmu­se­um, and the Musée d’Or­say share space with such non-brick-and-mor­tar com­pan­ions as the Busy Beaver But­ton Muse­um, the Gro­cery List Col­lec­tion, and Toast­er Cen­tral.

Raincoat

Like any major insti­tu­tion, MoOM touts their cur­rent exhi­bi­tions, a sea­son­al sam­pling of five. This spring brings togeth­er the Rijksmu­se­um’s Stu­dio Project, NASA’s Space Food Hall of Fame, a col­lec­tion of Dutch safe­ty posters from 50 Watts, 40 retro-groovy Japan­ese ads com­pli­ments of Voic­es of East Anglia, and a pho­to­graph­ic sur­vey of eggnog car­tons. (That last one real­ly deserves a brick and mor­tar home. Loca­tion is imma­te­r­i­al. I’d just like to fan­ta­size about vis­it­ing it some­day.)

egg nog

Mean­while, the talk of the town here in New York City is the reap­pear­ance of Mmu­se­umm, an eclec­tic, non-prof­it housed in a 60-square-foot Tribeca ele­va­tor shaft. MoOM, take note.

Find more online exhi­bi­tions at the Muse­um of Online Muse­ums.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

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

Down­load Over 250 Free Art Books From the Get­ty Muse­um

Ayun Hal­l­i­day wrote about her expe­ri­ences as a muse­um guard in her 3rd book, Job Hop­per. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Ralph Waldo Emerson Writes a Job Recommendation for Walt Whitman (1863)

EmersonLetter1

While we often rec­om­mend Let­ters of Note for the hits of his­to­ry’s most illu­mi­nat­ing pieces of inci­den­tal cor­re­spon­dence, do con­sid­er also mak­ing a reg­u­lar vis­its to Slate’s his­to­ry blog The Vault. There you’ll find such writ­ten arti­facts as the one pic­tured in part above, astute­ly writ­ten up by occa­sion­al Open Cul­ture con­trib­u­tor Rebec­ca Onion: “In 1863, as he con­sid­ered seek­ing a gov­ern­ment clerk­ship, Walt Whit­man asked his friend and advo­cate Ralph Wal­do Emer­son for a let­ter of rec­om­men­da­tion. Emer­son, for decades a respect­ed name in Amer­i­can let­ters, knew the sec­re­taries of state and trea­sury per­son­al­ly, and Whit­man hoped that a note from him would help the younger poet secure steady employ­ment in Wash­ing­ton.” This note runs, in a tran­script from the Walt Whit­man archive, as fol­lows:

Con­cord Mass­a­chu­setts
10 Jan­u­ary 2, 1863

Dear Sir,

Mr Walt Whit­man, of New York, writes me that he is seek­ing employ­ment in the pub­lic ser­vice in Wash­ing­ton, & per­haps some appli­ca­tion on his part has already been made to your­self. Will you per­mit me to say that he is known to me as a man of strong orig­i­nal genius, com­bin­ing, with marked eccen­tric­i­ties, great pow­ers & valu­able traits of char­ac­ter: a self-rely­ing large-heart­ed man, much beloved by his friends; entire­ly patri­ot­ic & benev­o­lent in his the­o­ry, tastes, & prac­tice. If his writ­ings are in cer­tain points open to crit­i­cism, they show extra­or­di­nary pow­er, & are more deeply Amer­i­can, demo­c­ra­t­ic, & in the inter­est of polit­i­cal lib­er­ty, than those of any oth­er poet.

A man of his tal­ents & dis­po­si­tions will quick­ly make him­self use­ful, and, if the gov­ern­ment has work that he can do, I think it may eas­i­ly find that it has called to its side more valu­able aid than it bar­gained for.

With entire respect,

Your obe­di­ent ser­vant,

R. W. Emer­son.

Hon Salmon P. Chase, | Sec­re­tary of the Trea­sury.

Any of us, I feel cer­tain, would love hav­ing such an elo­quent­ly praise-filled let­ter of rec­om­men­da­tion sent on our behalf by a friend, a teacher, a for­mer employ­er, or a pil­lar of Amer­i­can Tran­scen­den­tal­ism. But even with that, the author of Leaves of Grass did­n’t find the road to a day gig par­tic­u­lar­ly smooth — in large part, of course, because of hav­ing writ­ten Leaves of GrassWhit­man, whose “rep­u­ta­tion pre­ced­ed him in job inter­views, report­ed that Salmon Chase, the sec­re­tary of the trea­sury and addressee of this let­ter, was vehe­ment­ly against the idea of employ­ing the author of Leaves, a book that cel­e­brat­ed open sex­u­al­i­ty in a way that Chase found dis­taste­ful.” He would even get fired from anoth­er job specif­i­cal­ly “because of objec­tions to his poet­ry.” Well, they can’t say Emer­son did­n’t warn them about Whit­man’s “marked eccen­tric­i­ties” — such as his ten­den­cy to write some of the most endur­ing verse in Amer­i­can his­to­ry.

via The Vault

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mark Twain Writes a Rap­tur­ous Let­ter to Walt Whit­man on the Poet’s 70th Birth­day (1889)

Hear Walt Whit­man (Maybe) Read­ing the First Four Lines of His Poem, “Amer­i­ca” (1890)

Find works by Whit­man and Emer­son in our twin col­lec­tions: 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free and 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices

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.

Read 4,500 Unpublished Pages of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary

MadameBovary

Why study a lan­guage like French? For the unpar­al­leled plea­sure, of course, of read­ing a beloved, respect­ed, and endur­ing nov­el like Madame Bovary in the orig­i­nal — or so lit­er­ar­i­ly inclined Fran­cophiles might argue. After all, they’d rhetor­i­cal­ly ask, can you real­ly say you’ve read the book if you haven’t actu­al­ly read the very same words Gus­tave Flaubert wrote? But now, lit­er­ar­i­ly inclined Fran­cophiles who also have an enthu­si­asm for the web (not an over­whelm­ing­ly large group, wags may point out) can insist that you haven’t real­ly read Madame Bovary unless you’ve read it all in the orig­i­nal: all 4,500 pages of it. Yes, the French do tend to write longer sen­tences than most, but that impres­sive length has less to do with a nation­al lit­er­ary style than with thor­ough­go­ing com­pletism, an impulse that brings togeth­er all of the 1856 nov­el­’s orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished pages as well as all of those cut, cen­sored, or revised, free to read online at bovary.fr.

“After a marathon effort of tran­scrip­tion by 130 vol­un­teers from all over the world, includ­ing a clean­ing lady, an oil prospec­tor and sev­er­al teenagers,” writes the Inde­pen­dent’s John Lich­field, “all the vari­ants of Gus­tave Flaubert’s mas­ter­piece can be con­sult­ed on a new web­site. This is believed to be the first time that the com­plete process of cre­ation, and pub­li­ca­tion, of a clas­sic nov­el has been made avail­able on the inter­net,” much less on a site that “con­tains not only the pub­lished text and images of the bare­ly leg­i­ble man­u­scripts but inter­ac­tive con­trols which allow the read­er to re-instate pas­sages cor­rect­ed or cut by Flaubert or his pub­lish­ers.” Despite this unprece­dent­ed­ly vast and acces­si­ble trove of Madame Bovary resources, strug­gles over the prop­er inter­pre­ta­tion of the once-scan­dalous nov­el will doubt­less only con­tin­ue, not only at the lev­el of just which word Flaubert intend­ed to write on the fourth draft of a par­tic­u­lar­ly cru­cial para­graph, but at the lev­el of whether to con­sid­er the whole book tragedy, com­e­dy, or some­thing in between. Enter the Madame Bovary Archive here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

As Pride and Prej­u­dice Turns 200, Read Jane Austen’s Man­u­scripts Online

See F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Hand­writ­ten Man­u­scripts for The Great Gats­byThis Side of Par­adise & More

The Online Emi­ly Dick­in­son Archive Makes Thou­sands of the Poet’s Man­u­scripts Freely Avail­able

James Joyce Man­u­scripts Online, Free Cour­tesy of The Nation­al Library of Ire­land

Mary Shelley’s Hand­writ­ten Man­u­scripts of Franken­stein Now Online for the First Time

The Com­plete Works of Leo Tol­stoy Online: New Archive Will Present 90 Vol­umes for Free (in Russ­ian)

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.

The First Children’s Picture Book, 1658’s Orbis Sensualium Pictus

I’ve heard a fair few new par­ents ago­niz­ing about what chil­dren’s books to admit into the fam­i­ly canon. Many of the same names keep com­ing up: 1947’s Good­night Moon, 1969’s The Very Hun­gry Cater­pil­lar, 1977’s Every­one Poops — clas­sics, all. Odd­ly, I’ve nev­er heard any of them men­tion the ear­li­est known chil­dren’s book, 1658’s Orbis Sen­su­al­i­um Pic­tus, or The World of Things Obvi­ous to the Sens­es Drawn in Pic­tures. “With its 150 pic­tures show­ing every­day activ­i­ties like brew­ing beer, tend­ing gar­dens, and slaugh­ter­ing ani­mals,” writes Charles McNa­ma­ra at The Pub­lic Domain review, the Orbis looks “imme­di­ate­ly famil­iar as an ances­tor of today’s children’s lit­er­a­ture. This approach cen­tered on the visu­al was a break­through in edu­ca­tion for the young. [ … ] Unlike trea­tis­es on edu­ca­tion and gram­mat­i­cal hand­books, it is aimed direct­ly at the young and attempts to engage on their lev­el.” In oth­er words, its author, Czech-born school reformer John Come­nius, accom­plish­es that still-rare feat of writ­ing not down to chil­dren, but straight at them — albeit in Latin.

EarliestChildrensBook

The Orbis holds not just the sta­tus of the first chil­dren’s book, but the first megahit in chil­dren’s pub­lish­ing, receiv­ing trans­la­tions in a great many lan­guages and becom­ing the most pop­u­lar ele­men­tary text­book in Europe. It opens with a sen­tence that, in McNa­ma­ra’s words, “would seem pecu­liar in today’s children’s books: ‘Come, boy, learn to be wise.’ We see above a teacher and stu­dent in dia­logue, the for­mer hold­ing up his fin­ger and sport­ing a cane and large hat, the lat­ter lis­ten­ing in an emo­tion­al state some­where between awe and anx­i­ety. The stu­dent asks, ‘What doth this mean, to be wise?’ His teacher answers, ‘To under­stand right­ly, to do right­ly, and to speak out right­ly all that are nec­es­sary.’ ” This leads into some­thing like “an ear­ly ver­sion of ‘Old Mac­Don­ald Had a Farm,’ ” lessons on “the philo­soph­i­cal and the invis­i­ble,” “thir­ty-five chap­ters on the­ol­o­gy, ele­ments, plants, and ani­mals,” and final­ly, an “exten­sive dis­cus­sion” of reli­gion which ends with “an admo­ni­tion not to go out into the world at all.” After read­ing the Orbis, embed­ded in full at the top of this post, you can judge for your­self whether it belongs on the shelf. Per­haps you could file it along­side Richard Scar­ry’s Busy­town books?

orbitus image

via The Pub­lic Domain Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Inter­na­tion­al Children’s Dig­i­tal Library Offers Free eBooks for Kids in Over 40 Lan­guages

The Epis­te­mol­o­gy of Dr. Seuss & More Phi­los­o­phy Lessons from Great Children’s Sto­ries

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.

The First-Ever Look at the Original Disneyland Prospectus

disneyland prospectus

Thanks to a bene­fac­tor, Boing Boing has post­ed the orig­i­nal Dis­ney­land prospec­tus, draft­ed in 1953. These “extreme­ly high-res­o­lu­tion scans,” Boing Boing says, “were made from one of the three sets of pitch-doc­u­ments Roy and Walt Dis­ney used to raise the mon­ey to build Dis­ney­land.” The doc­u­ment isn’t long. It runs 12 pages from front to back. And it imag­ines some of the first parts of the park. Of course, there’s Main Street, but there’s also “True Life Adven­ture­land,” “Lil­liput­ian Land” and “Fan­ta­sy Land.” These imag­ined parts of the park were meant to enter­tain young­sters. They were also meant to edu­cate. (The last page of the Prospec­tus sums things up by say­ing, “The idea of Dis­ney land is a sim­ple one. It will be a place for peo­ple to find hap­pi­ness and knowl­edge.…, a place for teach­ers and pupils to dis­cov­er greater ways of under­stand­ing and edu­ca­tion.” And, as Cory Doc­torow notes, they were meant to make mon­ey. (In “True-Life Adven­ture­land,” says the Prospec­tus, “mag­nif­i­cent­ly plumed birds and fan­tas­tic fish from all over the world… may be pur­chased and shipped any­where in the U.S. if you so desire.”) These days, the edu­ca­tion­al mis­sion of Dis­ney­land isn’t much in evi­dence, while the “mer­chan­tain­ment” side remains. But that does­n’t stop me from enjoy­ing it. You can find the Prospec­tus on Archive.org in dif­fer­ent for­mats. Or see it below.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dis­ney­land 1957: A Lit­tle Stroll Down Mem­o­ry Lane

How Walt Dis­ney Car­toons Are Made (1939)

World War I Unfolds in a Three Minute Time-Lapse Film: Every Day From 1914 to 1918

As time places us ever fur­ther from the event, our knowl­edge of (and—generally speaking—interest in World War I) has shrunk pre­cip­i­tously.  That trend is revers­ing as the cen­ten­ni­al of Arch­duke Franz Fer­di­nand’s assas­si­na­tion draws nigh.

The Atlantic’s Alan Tay­lor launched an excel­lent 10-part series on World War I, which thus­far explored the role of tech­nol­o­gy and ani­mals.

Car­toon­ist Joe Sac­co doc­u­ment­ed the Bat­tle of the Somme’s first day in The Great War, an aston­ish­ing twen­ty-four-foot-long panora­ma.

The UK’s Impe­r­i­al War Muse­um is invit­ing the pub­lic to con­tribute pho­tos and fam­i­ly anec­dotes to Lives of the First World War, an inter­ac­tive dig­i­tal data­base.

It’s a good time to play catch up.

Before I start­ed study­ing this game-chang­ing cat­a­stroph­ic event with my young son, one of my few ger­mane pieces of infor­ma­tion was that a lot of sol­diers lived and died in trench­es dug along the West­ern front. Even with­out pho­tos, sta­tis­tics, or per­son­al sto­ries, this defin­ing aspect hits home hard in Emper­or Tiger­star’s ani­mat­ed map of the Great War’s chang­ing front lines in Europe and the Mid­dle East, above.

The trench­es were built fol­low­ing the First Bat­tle of the Marne in Sep­tem­ber 1914. Even­tu­al­ly they cov­ered over 25,000 miles. Hun­dreds of thou­sands met their ghast­ly ends there, via bombs, ill­ness, and poi­son gas attacks, but these loss­es result­ed in very lit­tle geo­graph­ic gain for one side or the oth­er.

If you’re look­ing for change, keep your eye peeled for the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion. The West­ern Front was a dead­lock.

An ani­mat­ed time­line of World War II can be found here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The BBC’s Hor­ri­ble His­to­ries Videos Will Crack You Up and Teach You About WWI (and More)

British Actors Read Poignant Poet­ry from World War I

World War I Remem­bered in Sec­ond Life

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the author of sev­en books, and cre­ator of the award win­ning East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Rare Video Shows FDR Walking: Filmed at the 1937 All-Star Game

In 1921, Franklin D. Roo­sevelt was sail­ing in the Bay of Fundy when he fell over­board into the cold waters. The next day, he felt weak­ness in his legs. The sen­sa­tion inten­si­fied, and, soon enough, he could no longer walk. Once doc­tors sort­ed things out, F.D.R. dis­cov­ered that he had con­tract­ed polio, a dis­ease that typ­i­cal­ly afflict­ed chil­dren, not adults. A long and gru­el­ing peri­od of reha­bil­i­ta­tion fol­lowed, most­ly in Warm Springs, Geor­gia. You can see footage of his rehab right below.

With a lot of hard work, F.D.R. learned to walk short dis­tances, aid­ed by leg braces, a cane, and some­one’s shoul­der to lean on. When he re-entered pol­i­tics, the F.D.R. Pres­i­den­tial Library notes, he “request­ed that the press avoid pho­tograph­ing him walk­ing, maneu­ver­ing, or being trans­ferred from his car. The stip­u­la­tion was accept­ed by most reporters and pho­tog­ra­phers but peri­od­i­cal­ly some­one would not com­ply. The Secret Ser­vice was assigned to pur­pose­ly inter­fere with any­one who tried to snap a pho­to of FDR in a ‘dis­abled or weak’ state.” Above, you can see (accord­ing to CNN) only the sec­ond known clip that shows F.D.R. walk­ing. (Watch around the 40 sec­ond mark.) Record­ed in Wash­ing­ton, D.C., at the 1937 All-Star Game, the video was recent­ly donat­ed to the Penn­syl­va­nia His­tor­i­cal and Muse­um Com­mis­sion. The oth­er extant video appears right below.

via CNN

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rare Footage: Home Movie of FDR’s 1941 Inau­gu­ra­tion

Franklin D. Roo­sevelt in 1936: ‘Gov­ern­ment by Orga­nized Mon­ey is Just as Dan­ger­ous as Gov­ern­ment by Orga­nized Mob’

Eleanor Roosevelt’s Durable Wis­dom on Curios­i­ty, Empa­thy, Edu­ca­tion & Respond­ing to Crit­i­cism

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The British Library Puts Online 1,200 Literary Treasures From Great Romantic & Victorian Writers

Earliest known writings of Charlotte Brontë

We’ve long known the inter­net’s pow­er to facil­i­tate access to the great books (see, for instance, our col­lec­tion of 600 eBooks free online), but recent projects like the British Library’s Dis­cov­er­ing Lit­er­a­ture have shown us that it can also help us engage with those great books. The site, says a MetaFil­ter user who goes under Horace Rumpole, offers “a por­tal to dig­i­tized col­lec­tions and sup­port­ing mate­r­i­al. The first install­ment, Roman­tics and Vic­to­ri­ans, includes work from Austen, the Bron­tësDick­ens, and Blake, and forth­com­ing mod­ules will expand cov­er­age of the site to encom­pass every­thing from Beowulf to the present day.” For now, if you enjoy clas­sic Eng­lish Roman­tic and Vic­to­ri­an nov­els, pre­pare to take that enjoy­ment to a high­er lev­el by immers­ing your­self in all man­ner of ear­ly man­u­scripts, authors’ papers and per­son­al effects, and relat­ed pieces of con­tem­po­rary media.

wilde-oscar-acting-B20129-68

If you count your­self a Jane Austen fan, for instance, you can now scroll down her Dis­cov­er­ing Lit­er­a­ture author page and find “a host of texts” to do with her life, her work, and the inter­sec­tion between them, “includ­ing the opin­ions — most­ly pos­i­tive — her friends and fam­i­ly had of her nov­els, copied out by the author (though ‘her imme­di­ate fam­i­ly is shown to have dis­agreed over which of her books was bet­ter’).” That comes from The Guardian’s Ali­son Flood, writ­ing up the site’s col­lec­tion of not just Austen accou­trements but items from writ­ers like William Wordsworth, Oscar Wilde, and Mary Shel­ley, “as well as diaries, let­ters, news­pa­per clip­pings from the time and pho­tographs, in an attempt to bring the peri­od to life.”

dl-portriat-npg-jane-austen

Flood cites “a sur­vey of more than 500 Eng­lish teach­ers, which found that 82% believe sec­ondary school stu­dents ‘find it hard to iden­ti­fy’ with clas­sic authors” on their class­es’ syl­labi. In response, Dis­cov­er­ing Lit­er­a­ture appears to have giv­en spe­cial atten­tion to oft-assigned writ­ers like Charles Dick­ens, whose col­lec­tion of mate­ri­als on the site includes a lit­er­ary sketch pub­lished at age 23, col­or illus­tra­tions for both an 1885 and 1911 edi­tion of Oliv­er Twist (as well as the 1848 review that destroyed his rela­tion­ship with the book’s pre­vi­ous illus­tra­tor), and “The Ital­ian Boy,” an ear­ly work of jour­nal­ism on “a bru­tal crime that occurred in Lon­don in 1831, a ‘copy-cat’ mur­der fol­low­ing upon those of the infa­mous Burke and Hare in Edin­burgh.” The site’s archives also con­tain ana­lyt­i­cal essays on each writer’s body of work, like “Oliv­er Twist and the Work­house” and “Sta­tus, Rank, and Class in Jane Austen’s Nov­els” — ide­al for when these re-enthused stu­dents, pre­vi­ous­ly unable to con­nect to the Roman­tic and Vic­to­ri­an eras’ most respect­ed authors, reach grad school.

The image at the very top shows the ear­li­est known writ­ings of Char­lotte Bron­të.

dickens-charles-italian-K90108-51

Relat­ed Con­tent:

15-Year-Old Jane Austen Writes a Satir­i­cal His­to­ry Of Eng­land: Read the Hand­writ­ten Man­u­script Online (1791)

Read Jane Austen’s Man­u­scripts Online

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

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

An Online Gallery of 30,000 Items from The British Library, Includ­ing Leonar­do da Vinci’s Note­books And Mozart’s Diary

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.

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