This past weekÂend, monÂkeys residÂing at a British zoo got a speÂcial treat. A MarÂvin Gaye imperÂsonÂator perÂformed “Let’s Get It On” and “SexÂuÂal HealÂing,” all in an effort to help the monÂkeys, well, “get it on.”
LocatÂed in Stafford, EngÂland, the TrenÂtham MonÂkey ForÂest saw the perÂforÂmance as a novÂel way to get their endanÂgered BarÂbary macaques to proÂduce offÂspring: Park DirecÂtor Matt Lovatt said on the zoo’s webÂsite: “We thought it could be a creÂative way to encourÂage our females to show a litÂtle affecÂtion to males that might not have been so lucky in love.” “Females in seaÂson mate with sevÂerÂal males so paterÂniÂty among our furÂry resÂiÂdents is nevÂer known. Each birth is vital to the species with BarÂbary macaques being classed as endanÂgered. Birthing seaÂson occurs in late spring/early sumÂmer each year, so hopeÂfulÂly Marvin’s done his magÂic and we can welÂcome some new babies!”
For anyÂone keepÂing score, Dave Largie is the singer chanÂnelÂing MarÂvin.
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The fate of the visionÂary is to be forÂevÂer outÂside of his or her time. Such was the life of NikoÂla TesÂla, who dreamed the future while his opporÂtunisÂtic rival Thomas EdiÂson seized the moment. Even now the name TesÂla conÂjures seemÂingÂly wildÂly impracÂtiÂcal venÂtures, too advanced, too expenÂsive, or far too eleÂgant in design for mass proÂducÂtion and conÂsumpÂtion. No one betÂter than David Bowie, the pop artist of posÂsiÂbilÂiÂty, could embody TesÂla’s air of magÂisÂteÂrÂiÂal high seriÂousÂness on the screen. And few were betÂter suitÂed than TesÂla himÂself, perÂhaps, to extrapÂoÂlate from his time to ours and see the techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcal future clearÂly.
Of course, this image of TesÂla as a lone, heroÂic, and even someÂwhat tragÂic figÂure who fell vicÂtim to EdisÂon’s designs is a bit of a romanÂtic exagÂgerÂaÂtion. As even the ediÂtor of a 1935 feaÂture interÂview piece in the now-defunct LibÂerÂty magÂaÂzine wrote, TesÂla and EdiÂson may have been rivals in the “batÂtle between alterÂnatÂing and direct curÂrent…. OthÂerÂwise the two men were mereÂly oppoÂsites. EdiÂson had a genius for pracÂtiÂcal invenÂtions immeÂdiÂateÂly applicÂaÂble. TesÂla, whose invenÂtions were far ahead of the time, aroused antagÂoÂnisms which delayed the fruition of his ideas for years.” One can in some respects see why TesÂla “aroused antagÂoÂnisms.” He may have been a genius, but he was not a peoÂple perÂson, and some of his views, though maybe charÂacÂterÂisÂtic of the times, are downÂright unsetÂtling.
In the lengthy LibÂerÂty essay, “as told to George Sylvester Viereck” (a poet and Nazi symÂpaÂthizÂer who also interÂviewed Hitler), TesÂla himÂself makes the proÂnounceÂment, “It seems that I have always been ahead of my time.” He then goes on to enuÂmerÂate some of the ways he has been proven right, and conÂfiÂdentÂly lists the charÂacÂterÂisÂtics of the future as he sees it. No one likes a know-it-all, but TesÂla refused to comÂproÂmise or ingraÂtiÂate himÂself, though he sufÂfered for it proÂfesÂsionÂalÂly. And he was, in many casÂes, right. Many of his 1935 preÂdicÂtions in LibÂerÂty are still too far off to meaÂsure, and some of them will seem outÂlandish, or crimÂiÂnal, to us today. But some still seem plauÂsiÂble, and a few advisÂable if we are to make it anothÂer 100 years as a species. TesÂla’s preÂdicÂtions include the folÂlowÂing, which he introÂduces with the disÂclaimer that “foreÂcastÂing is perÂilous. No man can look very far into the future.”
“BudÂdhism and ChrisÂtianÂiÂty… will be the reliÂgion of the human race in the twenÂty-first cenÂtuÂry.”
“The year 2100 will see eugenÂics uniÂverÂsalÂly estabÂlished.” TesÂla went on to comÂment, “no one who is not a desirÂable parÂent should be perÂmitÂted to proÂduce progÂeÂny. A cenÂtuÂry from now it will no more occur to a norÂmal perÂson to mate with a perÂson eugeniÂcalÂly unfit than to marÂry a habitÂuÂal crimÂiÂnal.”
“Hygiene, physÂiÂcal culÂture will be recÂogÂnized branchÂes of eduÂcaÂtion and govÂernÂment. The SecÂreÂtary of Hygiene or PhysÂiÂcal CulÂture will be far more imporÂtant in the cabÂiÂnet of the PresÂiÂdent of the UnitÂed States who holds office in the year 2025 than the SecÂreÂtary of War.” Along with perÂsonÂal hygiene, TesÂla includÂed “polÂluÂtion” as a social ill in need of regÂuÂlaÂtion.
“I am conÂvinced that withÂin a cenÂtuÂry cofÂfee, tea, and tobacÂco will be no longer in vogue. AlcoÂhol, howÂevÂer, will still be used. It is not a stimÂuÂlant but a verÂiÂtaÂble elixir of life.”
“There will be enough wheat and wheat prodÂucts to feed the entire world, includÂing the teemÂing milÂlions of ChiÂna and India.” (TesÂla did not foreÂsee the anti-gluten mania of the 21st cenÂtuÂry.)
“Long before the next cenÂtuÂry dawns, sysÂtemÂatÂic reforÂestaÂtion and the sciÂenÂtifÂic manÂageÂment of natÂurÂal resources will have made an end of all devÂasÂtatÂing droughts, forÂest fires, and floods. The uniÂverÂsal utiÂlizaÂtion of water powÂer and its long-disÂtance transÂmisÂsion will supÂply every houseÂhold with cheap powÂer.” Along with this optiÂmistic preÂdicÂtion, TesÂla foreÂsaw that “the strugÂgle for exisÂtence being lessÂened, there should be develÂopÂment along ideÂal rather than mateÂrÂiÂal lines.”
TesÂla goes on to preÂdict the elimÂiÂnaÂtion of war, “by makÂing every nation, weak or strong, able to defend itself,” after which war chests would be divertÂed to fundÂing eduÂcaÂtion and research. He then describes—in rather fanÂtasÂtiÂcal-soundÂing terms—an appaÂraÂtus that “projects parÂtiÂcles” and transÂmits enerÂgy, enabling not only a revÂoÂluÂtion in defense techÂnolÂoÂgy, but “undreamed of results in teleÂviÂsion.” TesÂla diagÂnoses his time as one in which “we sufÂfer from the derangeÂment of our civÂiÂlizaÂtion because we have not yet comÂpleteÂly adjustÂed ourÂselves to the machine age.” The soluÂtion, he asserts—along with most futurÂists, then and now—“does not lie in destroyÂing but in masÂterÂing the machine.” As an examÂple of such masÂtery, TesÂla describes the future of “automaÂtons” takÂing over human labor and the creÂation of “a thinkÂing machine.”
When wireÂless is perÂfectÂly applied the whole earth will be conÂvertÂed into a huge brain, which in fact it is…. We shall be able to comÂmuÂniÂcate with one anothÂer instantÂly, irreÂspecÂtive of disÂtance. Not only this, but through teleÂviÂsion and teleÂphoÂny we shall see and hear one anothÂer as perÂfectÂly as though were face to face, despite interÂvenÂing disÂtances of thouÂsands of miles; and the instruÂments through which we shall be able to do this will be amazÂingÂly simÂple comÂpared with our present teleÂphone. A man will be able to carÂry one in his vest pockÂet.
TelÂsa also made some odd preÂdicÂtions about fuel-less pasÂsenÂger flyÂing machines “free from any limÂiÂtaÂtions of the present airÂplanes and diriÂgiÂbles” and spoutÂed more of the scary stuff about eugenÂics that had come to obsess him late in life. AddiÂtionÂalÂly, TesÂla saw changÂing genÂder relaÂtions as the preÂcurÂsor of a comÂing matriÂarchy. This was not a develÂopÂment he charÂacÂterÂized in posÂiÂtive terms. For TesÂla, femÂiÂnism would “end in a new sex order, with the female as supeÂriÂor.” (As Novak notes, TesÂla’s misÂgivÂings about femÂiÂnism have made him a hero to the so-called “men’s rights” moveÂment.) While he fulÂly grantÂed that women could and would match and surÂpass men in every field, he warned that “the acquiÂsiÂtion of new fields of endeavÂor by women, their gradÂual usurpaÂtion of leadÂerÂship, will dull and finalÂly disÂsiÂpate femÂiÂnine senÂsiÂbilÂiÂties, will choke the materÂnal instinct, so that marÂriage and mothÂerÂhood may become abhorÂrent and human civÂiÂlizaÂtion draw closÂer and closÂer to the perÂfect civÂiÂlizaÂtion of the bee.”
It seems to me that a “bee civÂiÂlizaÂtion” would appeal to a eugeniÂcist, except, I supÂpose, TesÂla feared becomÂing a drone. Although he saw the develÂopÂment as inevitable, he still sounds to me like any numÂber of curÂrent politiÂcians who argue that sociÂety should conÂtinÂue to supÂpress and disÂcrimÂiÂnate against women for their own good and the good of “civÂiÂlizaÂtion.” TesÂla may be an outÂsider hero for geek culÂture everyÂwhere, but his social attiÂtudes give me the creeps. While I’ve perÂsonÂalÂly always liked the vision of a world in which robots do most the work and we spend most of our monÂey on eduÂcaÂtion, when it comes to the elimÂiÂnaÂtion of war, I’m less sanÂguine about parÂtiÂcle rays and more symÂpaÂthetÂic to the words of Ivor CutÂler.
Note: An earÂliÂer verÂsion of this post appeared on our site in 2015.
After sevÂerÂal years of writÂing and perÂformÂing songs influÂenced by such sources as authors Edward Gorey and RayÂmond ChanÂdler, filmÂmakÂer Tim BurÂton, and murÂder balÂlads in the AmerÂiÂcan folk traÂdiÂtion, Ellia Bisker and JefÂfrey MorÂris, known colÂlecÂtiveÂly as CharmÂing DisÂasÂter, began castÂing around for a sinÂgle, existÂing narÂraÂtive that could susÂtain an album’s worth of origÂiÂnal tunes.
The result is Our Lady of RadiÂum, a nine song exploÂration of Curie’s life and work.
The crowdÂfundÂed album, recordÂed durÂing the panÂdemÂic, is so exhausÂtiveÂly researched that the accomÂpaÂnyÂing illusÂtratÂed bookÂlet includes a bibÂliÂogÂraÂphy with titles rangÂing from David I. Harvie’s techÂniÂcalÂly dense DeadÂly SunÂshine: The HisÂtoÂry and Fatal LegaÂcy of RadiÂum to DebÂoÂrah Blum’s The PoiÂsonÂer’s HandÂbook, described by The New York ObservÂer as “a vicious, page-turnÂing stoÂry that reads more like RayÂmond ChanÂdler than Madame Curie.”
A chapÂter in the The PoiÂsonÂer’s HandÂbook introÂduced Bisker and MorÂris to the RadiÂum Girls, young workÂers whose proÂlonged expoÂsure to radiÂum-based paint in earÂly 20th-cenÂtuÂry clock facÂtoÂries had horÂrifÂic conÂseÂquences.
Each girl proÂcured a tray conÂtainÂing twenÂty-four watch dials and the mateÂrÂiÂal to be used to paint the numerÂals upon them so that they would appear lumiÂnous. The mateÂrÂiÂal was a powÂder, of about the conÂsisÂtenÂcy of cosÂmetÂic powÂder, and conÂsistÂed of phosÂphoÂresÂcent zinc sulÂphide mixed with radiÂum sulphate…The powÂder was poured from the vial into a small porceÂlain cruÂcible, about the size of a thimÂble. A quanÂtiÂty of gum araÂbic, as an adheÂsive, and a thinÂner of water were then added, and this was stirred with a small glass rod until a paintÂlike subÂstance resultÂed. In the course of a workÂing week each girl paintÂed the dials conÂtained on twenÂty-two to forty-four such trays, dependÂing upon the speed with which she worked, and used a vial of powÂder for each tray. When the paint-like subÂstance was proÂduced a girl would employ it in paintÂing the figÂures on a watch dial. There were fourÂteen numerÂals, the figÂure six being omitÂted. In the paintÂing each girl used a very fine brush of camel’s hair conÂtainÂing about thirÂty hairs. In order to obtain the fine lines which the work required, a girl would place the brisÂtles in her mouth, and by the action of her tongue and lips bring the brisÂtles to a fine point. The brush was then dipped into the paint, the figÂures paintÂed upon the dial until more paint was required or until the paint on the brush dried and hardÂened, when the brush was dipped into a small cruÂcible of water. This water remained in the cruÂcible withÂout change for a day or perÂhaps two days. The brush would then be repointÂed in the mouth and dipped into the paint or even repointÂed in such manÂner after being dipped into the paint itself, in a conÂtinÂuÂous process.
The band found themÂselves hauntÂed by the RadiÂum Girls’ stoÂry:
PartÂly it’s that it seemed like a realÂly good job — it was clean work, it was less physÂiÂcalÂly taxÂing and paid betÂter than facÂtoÂry or mill jobs, the workÂing enviÂronÂment was nice — and the workÂers were all young women. They were excitÂed about this sweet gig, and then it betrayed them, poiÂsonÂing them and cutÂting their lives short in a horÂriÂble way.
There were all these details we learned that we couldÂn’t stop thinkÂing about. Like the fact that radiÂum gets takÂen up by bone, which then starts to disÂinÂteÂgrate because radiÂum isn’t as hard as calÂciÂum. The RadiÂum Girls’ jaw boneswere crumÂbling away, because they (were instructÂed) to use their lips to point the brushÂes when paintÂing watch faces with radiÂum-based paint.
The radiÂum they absorbed was irraÂdiÂatÂing them from inside, from withÂin their own bones.
RadiÂum decays into radon, and it was evenÂtuÂalÂly disÂcovÂered that the radiÂum girls were exhalÂing radon gas. They could expose a phoÂtoÂgraphÂic plate by breathÂing on it. Those images—the bones and the breath—stuck with us in parÂticÂuÂlar.
FelÂlow musiÂcian, Omer Gal, of the “theÂatriÂcal freak folk musiÂcal menagerie” CookÂie Tongue, heightÂens the sense of dread in his chillÂing stop-motion aniÂmaÂtion for Our Lady of RadiÂum’s first music video, above. There’s no quesÂtion that a tragÂic fate awaits the crumÂbling, uncomÂpreÂhendÂing litÂtle workÂer.
Before their physÂiÂcal sympÂtoms startÂed to manÂiÂfest, the RadiÂum Girls believed what they had been told — that the radiÂum-based paint they used on the timeÂpieces’ faces and hands posed no threat to their well being.
ComÂpoundÂing the probÂlem, the paint’s glow-in-the-dark propÂerÂties proved irreÂsistible to high-spirÂitÂed teens, as the niece of MarÂgaret “Peg” Looney — 17 when she startÂed work at the IlliÂnois RadiÂum Dial ComÂpaÂny (now a SuperÂfund Site) — recountÂed to NPR:
I can rememÂber my famÂiÂly talkÂing about my aunt bringÂing home the litÂtle vials (of radiÂum paint.) They would go into their bedÂroom with the lights off and paint their finÂgerÂnails, their eyeÂlids, their lips and then they’d laugh at each othÂer because they glowed in the dark.
Looney died at 24, havÂing sufÂfered from aneÂmia, debilÂiÂtatÂing hip pain, and the loss of teeth and bits of her jaw. Although her famÂiÂly harÂbored susÂpiÂcions as to the cause of her bewilÂderÂing decline, no attorÂney would take their case. They latÂer learned that the IlliÂnois RadiÂum Dial ComÂpaÂny had arranged for medÂical tests to be perÂformed on workÂers, withÂout truthÂfulÂly advisÂing them of the results.
EvenÂtuÂalÂly, the mountÂing death toll made the conÂnecÂtion between workÂers’ health and the workÂplace imposÂsiÂble to ignore. LawÂsuits such as La Porte v. UnitÂed States RadiÂum CorÂpoÂraÂtion led to improved indusÂtriÂal safeÂty regÂuÂlaÂtions and othÂer labor reforms.
Too late, CharmÂing DisÂasÂter notes, for the RadiÂum Girls themÂselves:
(Our song) RadiÂum Girls is dedÂiÂcatÂed to the young women who were unwitÂtingÂly poiÂsoned by their work and who were ignored and maligned in seekÂing jusÂtice. Their plight led to laws and safeÂguards that evenÂtuÂalÂly became the occuÂpaÂtionÂal safeÂty proÂtecÂtions we have today. Of course that is still a batÂtle that’s being fought, but it startÂed with them. We wantÂed to pay tribÂute to these young women, honÂor their memÂoÂry, and give them a voice.
PreÂorder CharmÂing Disaster’s Our Lady of RadiÂumhere.
KhiÂpus, the portable inforÂmaÂtion archives creÂatÂed by the Inca, may stir up memÂoÂries of 1970s macrame with their long strands of intriÂcateÂly knotÂted, earth-toned fibers, but their funcÂtion more closeÂly resemÂbled that of a denseÂly plotÂted comÂputÂerÂized spreadÂsheet.
As CecilÂia ParÂdo-Grau, lead curaÂtor of the British Museum’s curÂrent exhiÂbiÂtionPeru: a jourÂney in time explains in the above CuraÂtors CorÂner episode, khiÂpus were used to keep track of everyÂthing from invenÂtoÂries and cenÂsus to hisÂtorÂiÂcal narÂraÂtives, using a sysÂtem that assigned meanÂing to the type and posiÂtion of knot, spaces between knots, cord length, fiber colÂor, etc.
Much of the inforÂmaÂtion preÂserved withÂin khiÂpus has yet to be deciÂphered by modÂern scholÂars, though the Open Khipu ReposÂiÂtoÂry — comÂpuÂtaÂtionÂal anthroÂpolÂoÂgist Jon ClinÂdaniel’s open-source dataÂbase — makes it posÂsiÂble to comÂpare the patÂterns of hunÂdreds of khiÂpus residÂing in museÂum and uniÂverÂsiÂty colÂlecÂtions.
Even in the Incan Empire, few were equipped to make sense of a khipu. This task fell to quipuÂcaÂmayÂocs, high born adminÂisÂtraÂtive offiÂcials trained since childÂhood in the creÂation and interÂpreÂtaÂtion of these organÂic spreadÂsheets.
Fleet mesÂsenÂgers known as chaskÂis transÂportÂed khipus on foot between adminÂisÂtraÂtive cenÂters, creÂatÂing an inforÂmaÂtion superÂhighÂway that preÂdates the InterÂnet by some five cenÂturies. KhiÂpus’ sturÂdy organÂic cotÂton or native camelid fibers were well suitÂed to withÂstandÂing both the rigÂors of time and the road.
A 500-year-old comÂposÂite khipu that found its way to British MuseÂum organÂics conÂserÂvaÂtor Nicole Rode priÂor to the exhiÂbiÂtion was intact, but severeÂly tanÂgled, with a britÂtleÂness that betrayed its age. Below, she describes falling under the khipu’s spell, durÂing the painstakÂing process of restorÂing it to a conÂdiÂtion whereÂby researchers could attempt to glean some of its secrets.
VisÂit Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino’s webÂsite to learn more about khipu in a series of fasÂciÂnatÂing short artiÂcles that accomÂpaÂnied their groundÂbreakÂing 2003 exhibÂit QUIPU: countÂing with knots in the Inka Empire.
RememÂber how it felt to be bunÂdled into tights, socks, jeans, a thick sweater, a snowÂsuit, mitÂtens, only to realÂize that you realÂly needÂed to pee?
Back in 1665, the LitÂtle Ice Age comÂpelled the well-to-do ladies of Delft to turn themÂselves out with a simÂiÂlar eye toward keepÂing warm, but their ensemÂbles had a disÂtinct advanÂtage over the ChristÂmas StoÂry snowÂsuit approach.
RelievÂing themÂselves was as easy as hikÂing their skirts, petÂtiÂcoats, and voluÂmiÂnous, lace-trimmed chemise. No flies for freezÂing finÂgers to fumÂble with. In fact, no drawÂers at all.
HisÂtorÂiÂcal cosÂtumer Pauline Loven, a creÂator of the GetÂting Dressed In… series, builds this elite outÂfit from the innerÂmost layÂer out, above, notÂing that clothÂing was an avenue for well-to-do citÂiÂzens to flaunt their wealth:
A long, full, Linen or silk chemise trimmed with lace at the cuff
A waist-tied hip pad to bolÂster sevÂerÂal layÂers of cozy, lined petÂtiÂcoats
An eleÂgant silk gown comÂprised of sevÂerÂal comÂpoÂnents:
A flat frontÂed skirt tucked into pleats at the sides and back
A laced up bodice stiffÂened with whale bone stays
DetachÂable sleeves
A stomÂachÂer for front-laced bodices
A loose fitÂting, fur-trimmed velÂvet or silk jackÂet
Silk or woolen thigh-high stockÂings gartered below the knee (creÂatÂed for the episode by herÂitage eduÂcaÂtor, and knitwear designÂer SalÂly PointÂer)
A linen or silk kerÂchief pinned or tied at the breast
Square-toed leather shoes with a curved heel (creÂatÂed for the episode by Kevin GarÂlick, who speÂcialÂizes in handÂmade shoes for re-enacÂtors.)
FashÂionÂable accesÂsories might include a foot warmÂing, charÂcoal powÂered voeten stoofand underÂstatÂed jewÂelÂry, like the pearls Johannes VerÂmeer paintÂed to such lumiÂnous effect.
If that doesn’t tip you off to the direcÂtion this hisÂtoric recreÂation is headÂed, allow us to note that the attenÂdant, who’s far from the focus of this episode, is garbed so as to sugÂgest The MilkÂmaid by a cerÂtain Dutch Baroque PeriÂod painter who speÂcialÂized in domesÂtic inteÂriÂor scenes…and whose iniÂtials are J.V.
View more of Pauline Loven’s work and GetÂting Dressed In… episodes focused on othÂer periÂods at Crow’s Eye ProÂducÂtions’ YouTube chanÂnel.
“I am sixÂty-five years old,” said John Cleese as he began one year’s conÂvoÂcaÂtion address at my uniÂverÂsiÂty, “which is nearÂly dead.” It got enough of a laugh that I’m not surÂprised to find, lookÂing it up all these years latÂer, that he seem to have deployed the line many times since. “I’m now incredÂiÂbly old,” he said last year in a video urgÂing comÂpliÂance with coroÂnÂavirus rules. “I’m nearÂly dead. I am 81 years of age.” NevÂerÂtheÂless, he remains decidÂedÂly non-dead (and indeed active on TwitÂter) today, though no doubt realÂiÂty-based enough to accept that he’s no less morÂtal than his felÂlow Pythons GraÂham ChapÂman and TerÂry Jones, who’ve preÂcedÂed him into the afterÂlife — if indeed there is an afterÂlife.
Many will find the eviÂdence disÂcussed here fairÂly perÂsuaÂsive, espeÂcialÂly the docÂuÂmentÂed “near-death expeÂriÂences.” In these casÂes “we have heightÂened menÂtal thoughts when your brain isn’t funcÂtionÂing; we have accuÂrate perÂcepÂtions from outÂside the body; we have meetÂings with deceased loved ones who you didÂn’t know had died; we have meetÂings with deceased loved ones whom you didÂn’t know, periÂod; and we don’t have a good physÂiÂcal explaÂnaÂtion for this.”
So says Bruce Greyson, ProÂfesÂsor EmerÂiÂtus of PsyÂchiÂaÂtry and NeuÂrobeÂhavÂioral SciÂences at the UniÂverÂsiÂty of VirÂginia, one of the panÂel’s five disÂtinÂguished non-Pythons. The othÂers are Jim B. TuckÂer, the DiviÂsion of PerÂcepÂtuÂal StudÂies direcÂtor; Edward KelÂly, one of its ProÂfesÂsors of Research; EmiÂly Williams KelÂly, one of its AssisÂtant ProÂfesÂsors of Research; and UVA ProÂfesÂsor of PsyÂchiÂaÂtry and NeuÂrobeÂhavÂioral SciÂences Kim PenÂberthy. Their work sugÂgests to them that, while near-death expeÂriÂences may not reflect the detachÂment of soul from body, neiÂther do they seem to be straightÂforÂward halÂluÂciÂnaÂtions. The trouÂble with mountÂing a rigÂorÂous invesÂtiÂgaÂtion into such a rare pheÂnomÂeÂnon is the necÂesÂsarÂiÂly small numÂber of casÂes. These researchers might thus conÂsidÂer takÂing on Cleese himÂself as a subÂject; after all, the man’s self-proÂfessed state of near-death has lastÂed more than fifÂteen years now.
Based in Seoul, ColÂin MarÂshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities and culÂture. His projects include the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.
What does it take to be an artist? In the short film above by Jakub Blank, artist Bill Blaine medÂiÂtates on the quesÂtion as he strolls around his home and stuÂdio and talks about his work. Blaine has aged into the realÂizaÂtion that makÂing art is what fulÂfills him, even though it probÂaÂbly won’t bring him immorÂtal fame. “I’ve thought about this,” he says. “I would probÂaÂbly be a hapÂpiÂer perÂson if I were paintÂing all the time.” BloatÂed egos belong to the young, and Blaine is glad to put the “absurd” ambiÂtions of youth behind him. “In the old days,” he musÂes, “your ego was so big, that you wantÂed to be betÂter than everyÂbody else, you wantÂed to be on the cutÂting edge of things… at least with old age, you don’t have a lot of that.”
And yet, though he seems to have everyÂthing an artist could want in the mateÂrÂiÂal sense – a palaÂtial estate with its own well-appointÂed stuÂdio – a melanÂcholy feelÂing of defeat hangs over the artist. SadÂness remains in his ready smile as he genÂtly interÂroÂgates himÂself, “So then, why the hell aren’t you paintÂing all the time?” Blaine chuckÂles as he conÂtemÂplates seeÂing a therÂaÂpist, an idea he doesn’t seem to take parÂticÂuÂlarÂly seriÂousÂly. Aside from a few outÂliers, maybe the psyÂchiÂatric proÂfesÂsion hasn’t takÂen the creÂative impulse parÂticÂuÂlarÂly seriÂousÂly either. One psyÂchoÂanÂaÂlyst who did, Otto Rank, wrote in Art and Artist of the imporÂtance of creÂativÂiÂty to all human develÂopÂment and activÂiÂty.
“The human urge to creÂate,” Rank argued, “does not find expresÂsion in works of art alone. It also proÂduces reliÂgion and mytholÂoÂgy and the social instiÂtuÂtions corÂreÂspondÂing to these. In a word, it proÂduces the whole culÂture.” EveryÂthing we do, from bakÂing bread to writÂing symÂphonies, is a creÂative act, in that we take raw mateÂriÂals and make things that didn’t exist before. In WestÂern culÂture, howÂevÂer, the role of the artist has been disÂtortÂed. Artists are eleÂvatÂed to the staÂtus of genius, or relÂeÂgatÂed to mediÂocÂriÂties, at best, disÂposÂable deadÂbeats, at worst. Blaine sureÂly deserves his lot of hapÂpiÂness from his work. Has he been underÂmined by self-doubt?
His vulÂnerÂaÂbilÂiÂty and the sharp canÂdor of his obserÂvaÂtions leave us with a porÂtrait of a man almost in agony over the knowlÂedge, he says – again using the accusatoÂry secÂond perÂson – that “you’re not going to be the next PicasÂso or the next Frank StelÂla or whatÂevÂer else.” There’s more to the negÂaÂtive comÂparÂisons than woundÂed vanÂiÂty. He should feel free to do what he likes, but he lacks what made these artists great, he says:
You have to be obsesÂsive, you realÂly do. ComÂpulÂsive. And I’m not enough, unforÂtuÂnateÂly. Had a cerÂtain amount of talÂent, just didn’t have the obsesÂsion apparÂentÂly. I think that’s what great artists have. They can’t let it go. And evenÂtuÂalÂly, whatÂevÂer they do, that’s their art, that’s who they are.
Blaine conÂtrasts greatÂness with the work of unseÂriÂous “diletÂtantes” who may approxÂiÂmate abstract expresÂsionÂist or othÂer styles, but whose work fails to manÂiÂfest the perÂsonÂalÂiÂty of the artist. “You can see through it,” says Blaine, wincÂing. Shot in his “home and stuÂdio in Mount Dora, FloriÂda,” notes Aeon, the film is “full of his origÂiÂnal paintÂings and phoÂtographs. Blaine offers his unguardÂed thoughts on a range of topÂics relatÂed to the genÂerÂaÂtive process.”
Artists are rarely their own best critÂics, and Blaine’s assessÂments of his work can seem withÂerÂing when voiced over Blank’s slideshow preÂsenÂtaÂtions. But as he opens up about his creÂative process, and his perÂcepÂtion of himÂself as “too bourÂgeois” to realÂly make it, he may reveal much more about the strugÂgles that all artists — or all creÂative peoÂple — face than he realÂizes.
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