November 22, 1963: Watch Errol Morris’ Short Documentary About the Kennedy Assassination

We live in a fine time for con­spir­a­cy the­o­rists, in at least a cou­ple of sens­es. First and more broad­ly, giv­en the pow­er of the inter­net, they’ve nev­er had clos­er at hand the semi-incrim­i­nat­ing, half-hid­den pieces of infor­ma­tion on which they build and with which they bol­ster their sus­pi­cions. Nor have they ever had a more effec­tive means of gath­er­ing and dis­cussing their find­ings. Sec­ond and more specif­i­cal­ly, the 50th anniver­sary of the assas­si­na­tion of Pres­i­dent John F. Kennedy has come upon us. This has set all those fas­ci­nat­ed by that grim his­tor­i­cal event, from the sober­est of skep­tics to the sheer­est para­noiacs, eval­u­at­ing and re-eval­u­at­ing it even more thor­ough­ly than usu­al. Above you’ll find the short Novem­ber 22, 1963 by Errol Mor­ris, a clear-eyed doc­u­men­tar­i­an and inter­view­er fas­ci­nat­ed not only with those who con­spire and those who the­o­rize about such con­spir­a­cies, but also with the grander implic­it ques­tions about what we know and what we don’t, what we can know and what we can’t, and whether we even know what we can and can’t know in the first place. (The title of his new fea­ture-length doc­u­men­tary about Don­ald Rums­feld: The Unknown Known.)

“The more you inves­ti­gate a crime, the more it becomes crys­tal-clear what hap­pened,” says Josi­ah “Tink” Thomp­son, schol­ar of Søren Kierkegaard, pri­vate detec­tive, and author of Six Sec­onds in Dal­las: A Micro-Study of the Kennedy Assas­si­na­tion (a book with which any­one who has seen Richard Lin­klater’s Slack­er will already feel some famil­iar­i­ty). “I don’t think any oth­er crime I know of in his­to­ry has been inves­ti­gat­ed with the kind of inten­si­ty that this has. And yet I don’t think we get any clos­er to know­ing what hap­pened now than we were 40, 45 years ago.” This opens a dis­cus­sion of how all the pho­to­graph­ic evi­dence of 11/22/63, up to and includ­ing the awe­some­ly scru­ti­nized Zaprud­er film, bears on the mat­ter. “Is there a les­son to be learned?” Mor­ris asks. “Yes, to nev­er give up try­ing to uncov­er the truth. Despite all the dif­fi­cul­ties, what hap­pened in Dal­las hap­pened in one way rather than anoth­er. It may have been hope­less­ly obscured, but it was not oblit­er­at­ed.” And just as Novem­ber 22, 1963 fol­lows up The Umbrel­la Man, Mor­ris’ pre­vi­ous piece with Thomp­son, Thomp­son has a sequel of his own in the works: a book called Last Sec­onds in Dal­las. JFK assas­si­na­tion nuts — and I mean that in the nicest way — have their read­ing ahead of them.

Novem­ber 22, 1963 will be added to the Doc­u­men­tary sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 600 Free Movies Online.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Revis­it­ing JFK on YouTube

Who Killed JFK? Two New Stud­ies

Film­mak­er Errol Mor­ris Gives Us “11 Excel­lent Rea­sons Not to Vote?”

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Take a Virtual Tour of Venice (Its Streets, Plazas & Canals) with Google Street View

There’s some­thing inher­ent­ly ridicu­lous about Google’s Street View cars.

Their roof-mount­ed 15-lens Trekker cam­eras con­stant­ly blun­der across less-than-dig­ni­fied scenes whilst trawl­ing the roads on behalf of Google Maps (a ser­vice that is for­ev­er linked in my mind to Lazy Sun­day, the pre­pos­ter­ous rap video star­ring come­di­ans Andy Sam­berg and Chris Par­nell.)

The cars them­selves are total­ly goofy-look­ing. I would imag­ine that spot­ting one in real life is some­thing akin to a Wein­er­mo­bile sight­ing. No won­der the pro­duc­ers of Arrest­ed Devel­op­ment arranged for George Michael Bluth, the hap­less inno­cent played by Michael Cera, to dri­ve one in the series’ fourth sea­son.

gondolier

I have a hunch that the Street View Trekker’s back­pack mod­el will ulti­mate­ly prove less mock­able than its four-wheeled coun­ter­part. It can go where cars can’t, con­fer­ring an extreme sports vibe despite the big, ball-shaped cam­era appa­ra­tus stick­ing up. A lim­it­ed pilot pro­gram has been recruit­ing vol­un­teers to wear the back­pack in such locales as Bul­gar­ia, Indone­sia, and South Africa. The Philip­pines is anoth­er des­ti­na­tion where vol­un­teers are sought, and all kid­ding aside, it would be riv­et­ing to see how this tech­nol­o­gy might doc­u­ment the dev­as­ta­tion in Tacloban.

For now, the non-auto­mo­tive Street View’s great­est tri­umph lies in record­ing the canals and cob­bled walk­ways of Venice, Italy, a feat impos­si­ble to pull off in a car. To accom­plish this, a team of back­pack­ers logged over 375 miles on foot and by boat. Their efforts pro­vide tourists with prac­ti­cal infor­ma­tion in a for­mat to which they’ve no doubt grown accus­tomed, as well as pre­sent­ing arm­chair trav­el­ers with plen­ty of non-dis­ap­point­ing eye can­dy.

Cyber vis­i­tors can choose to tra­verse the Float­ing City much as actu­al vis­i­tors can — on foot, by vaporet­ta or by gon­do­la. (I’d advise mak­ing a trip to the bath­room even if you’re not actu­al­ly leav­ing home. At the very least turn the sound down — the pad­dling nois­es accom­pa­ny­ing the last option could cause a Pavlov­ian blad­der response.)

In addi­tion to the Street View and stan­dard map, you can explore using a sepia-toned map from the David Rum­sey His­tor­i­cal Map Col­lec­tion, that dates back to 1838.

A love­ly escape, all in all. Let us hope it nev­er opens to traf­fic.

You can start your tour here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Venice Works: A Short Film

Google Street View Opens Up a Look at Shackleton’s Antarc­tic

A Vir­tu­al Tour of the Sis­tine Chapel

Google Street View Takes You on a Panoram­ic Tour of the Grand Canyon

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the author of No Touch Mon­key! And Oth­er Trav­el Lessons Learned Too Late, The Zinesters Guide to NYC and sev­er­al oth­er books. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

James Joyce’s Dublin Captured in Vintage Photos from 1897 to 1904

dublin 1902

The Google Cul­tur­al Insti­tute has drawn our atten­tion before, with its vir­tu­al exhi­bi­tions on the rise of the Eif­fel Tow­er, the fall of the Iron Cur­tain, and many oth­er notable chap­ters of human his­to­ry. Today, take a look at a Google Cul­tur­al Insti­tute gallery that has a foot in lit­er­a­ture as well as in his­to­ry, Dublin­ers: the Pho­tographs of J.J. Clarke from the Nation­al Library of Ire­land. Sub­ti­tled “a glimpse of James Joyce’s Dublin,” the online show presents pic­tures tak­en by this fel­low Clarke at the turn of the 20th cen­tu­ry, when he came to the Irish cap­i­tal to study med­i­cine. His “pho­to­jour­nal­is­tic approach to his sub­jects allowed him to cap­ture vivid scenes from the dai­ly lives of Dublin’s men, women and chil­dren.”

CLAR_071

This made Clarke a con­tem­po­rary of Joyce, and so his “images also show us how the city looked” to the writer “whose best known works — the short sto­ry col­lec­tion Dublin­ers, and the nov­els A Por­trait of the Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses — are all set around that time, when Joyce too was a young stu­dent fas­ci­nat­ed by the world around him.”

Both the pho­tog­ra­ph­er and the nov­el­ist, in their sep­a­rate forms, set about cap­tur­ing the city, the era, and the cul­ture around them, and the pic­tures of Clarke’s fea­tured at the Google Cul­tur­al Insti­tute could eas­i­ly illus­trate any of Joyce’s books.

CLAR_008

I’ve long enjoyed repeat­ing the obser­va­tion that, had the real Dublin crum­bled, we could rebuild it from the details giv­en in Ulysses — or at least we could rebuild the Dublin of 1904. But I now accept that hav­ing on hand Clarke’s pho­tographs, about which you can learn much more at the Nation­al Library of Ire­land’s site, they would great­ly speed the recon­struc­tion process as well. All of the Joycean texts men­tioned above can be found in our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books and Free eBooks.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vladimir Nabokov Cre­ates a Hand-Drawn Map of James Joyce’s Ulysses

James Joyce, With His Eye­sight Fail­ing, Draws a Sketch of Leopold Bloom (1926)

James Joyce Reads ‘Anna Livia Plura­belle’ from Finnegans Wake

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Interact with The New York Times Four-Part Documentary, “A Short History of the Highrise”

“A Short His­to­ry of the High­rise,” a four-part inter­ac­tive New York Times “Op-Doc” reminds me of a pop-up book. The very first lever I pulled (actu­al­ly it was a wood­en buck­et) added a cou­ple of sto­ries to a medieval tow­er! I even snagged a cou­ple of com­pli­men­ta­ry fac­toids about the Tow­er of Babel! Bonus!

The kids are gonna love it!

There are doors to push, scenic post­cards to flip, a lit­tle Roman guy to drag to the right… what a cre­ative use of the Times’ mas­sive pho­to morgue. Direc­tor Kate­ri­na Cizek skit­ters through­out his­to­ry and all over the globe, swing­ing by ancient Rome, Mon­tezu­ma’s Cas­tle cliff dwelling, Chi­na’s Fujian province, 18th cen­tu­ry Europe, and Jacob Riis’ New York. Appar­ent­ly, ver­ti­cal hous­ing is noth­ing new.

( I did find myself won­der­ing what direc­tor Cizek might be angling for at the Dako­ta. The sto­ried apart­ment build­ing was long ago dwarfed by taller addi­tions to New York City’s urban land­scape, but its mul­ti­ple appear­ances in the series indi­cate that it’s still its most desir­able. Mer­ci­ful­ly, none of the inter­ac­tive fea­tures involve John Lennon.)

Would that a sim­i­lar restraint had been exer­cised with regard to nar­ra­tion. I would have glad­ly lis­tened to Pro­fes­sor Miles Glendin­ning, the mass hous­ing schol­ar who lends his exper­tise to the pro­jec­t’s sub­ter­ranean lev­el. Alas, the non-inter­ac­tive por­tion is marred by a bizarre rhyme scheme meant to “evoke a sto­ry­book.” If so, it’s the sort of sto­ry­book no adult (with the pos­si­ble excep­tion of the singer Feist, who was hope­ful­ly paid for her par­tic­i­pa­tion) wants to read aloud. A sam­ple:

Pub­licly spon­sored hous­ing isn’t every­where the diet

Beyond Europe, North Amer­i­ca and the Sovi­et Union, high rise devel­op­ment is ram­pant­ly pri­vate.

Seri­ous­ly?

Giv­en the lev­el of dis­course, I see no rea­son we were deprived of a rhyme for “phal­lic sym­bol.” Those ani­mat­ed build­ings do reach for the sky.

If it all gets a bit much you can head straight for “Home.” The final install­ment jet­ti­sons the cutesy-boot­sy rhymes in favor of a love­ly tune by Patrick Wat­son, which makes a pleas­ant sound­track to read­er-sup­plied pho­tos of their bal­conies. The images have been arranged the­mat­i­cal­ly — pets, storms, night — and the cumu­la­tive effect is charm­ing. Click “More read­ers’ sto­ries of life in high-ris­es” to read the first-hand accounts that go with these views. If your perch is high enough, you can sub­mit one of your own.

You can watch a video trail­er for “A Short His­to­ry of the High­rise” up top and Part 1 of Cizek’s film below that. But to get the full inter­ac­tive expe­ri­ence you’ll want to head over to the New York Times web site.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Ten Build­ings That Changed Amer­i­ca: Watch the Debut Episode from the New PBS Series

The ABC of Archi­tects: An Ani­mat­ed Flip­book of Famous Archi­tects and Their Best-Known Build­ings

The His­to­ry of West­ern Archi­tec­ture: From Ancient Greece to Roco­co (A Free Online Course)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day has tem­porar­i­ly relo­cat­ed to the ground floor, but she still can bust a rhyme. Fol­low her@AyunHalliday

Portraits of Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, Walter Benjamin & Other Literary Legends by Gisèle Freund

James_Joyce_with_grandson

“Gisèle Fre­und, the Ger­man-born pho­tog­ra­ph­er who died in 2000 at 91, is both famous and not famous enough,” writes Kather­ine Knorr in the New York Times. “She was some­times cha­grined to be best known for some of her por­traits,” whose lumi­nary sub­jects includ­ed artists, film stars, and writ­ers. At the top, we have Fre­und’s 1938 shot of James Joyce with his grand­son in Paris. Just below, her pho­to­graph of a pen­sive Wal­ter Ben­jamin from that same year. At the bot­tom, her 1939 por­trait of a smok­ing Vir­ginia Woolf. (French nov­el­ist, the­o­rist and, Min­is­ter for Cul­tur­al Affairs André Mal­raux also sport­ed a cig­a­rette in his 1935 por­trait by Fre­und, an image which made it to a postage stamp in 1996, though with his smoke care­ful­ly removed.) For­mer Pres­i­dent Jacques Chirac pub­licly praised Fre­und’s abil­i­ty to “reveal the essence of beings through their expres­sions.” In Woolf’s case, Fre­und pro­duced the being in ques­tion’s first-ever col­or por­trait.

Walter_Benjamin_Paris_1938

“[Fre­und] was an ear­ly adapter to col­or, in 1938, and her first exhi­bi­tion was in fact a pro­jec­tion of col­or por­traits giv­en in Monnier’s book shop,” Knorr writes. She goes on to describe anoth­er exhi­bi­tion, in 2011, that “sim­i­lar­ly projects the por­traits with­in its mock book­shop, turn­ing the show into a guess­ing game since some of those pho­tographed have enor­mous­ly famous faces,” while oth­ers “are a lot of French intel­lec­tu­als that most young French peo­ple today would not rec­og­nize.” While we nat­u­ral­ly assume that you, as an Open Cul­ture read­er, rec­og­nize a fair few more French intel­lec­tu­als than the aver­age gallery-goer, we can’t help but focus on the fact that so many of the writ­ers of whom Fre­und’s eye saw the defin­i­tive images — not just Joyce, Ben­jamin, and Woolf, but Beck­ett, Eliot, Hesse, the list goes on — became the defin­ing writ­ers of their era. Fre­und her­self had just one ques­tion: “Explain to me why writ­ers want to be pho­tographed like stars,” she wrote, “and the lat­ter like writ­ers.”

Images by Fre­und have been col­lect­ed in the book, Gisèle Fre­und: Pho­tographs & Mem­oirs. You can also vis­it the Fre­und web­site to view a col­lec­tion of por­traits.

Virginia_Woolf_smoking_London_1939

via A Piece of Mono­logue

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philoso­pher Por­traits: Famous Philoso­phers Paint­ed in the Style of Influ­en­tial Artists

A‑List Authors, Artists & Thinkers Draw Self Por­traits

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Iconic Photographs Re-Created in Play Doh: Man Ray to Nan Goldin

photosrenderedplaydohPoints for cre­ativ­i­ty go to Eleanor Mac­nair, who recent­ly launched the “Pho­tographs ren­dered in Play-Doh” Tum­blr. Giv­en the name of the Tum­blr, I prob­a­bly don’t have to explain the con­cept. I think you get it. Above we have “Pho­tog­ra­ph­er Den­nis Stock holds a cam­era in front of his face, 1955” — the orig­i­nal by Andreas Feininger (right), and the recre­ation by Ms. Mac­nair (left). Also on the Tum­blr you’ll find, among oth­ers:

  • “Nan and Bri­an in Bed, New York City, 1983” by Nan Goldin (orig­i­nal — play doh)
  • “Dovi­ma with ele­phants, evening dress by Dior, Cirque d’Hiver, August 1955” by Richard Ave­don (orig­i­nal — play doh)
  • “Helen Tamiris, 1929” by Man Ray (orig­i­nal — play doh)

Stay tuned, there’s hope­ful­ly more to come.

H/T goes to James Estrin, co-edi­tor of The New York Times Lens Blog

Pho­to above via DVAfo­to

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Scenes from Stan­ley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, Recre­at­ed in Lego

Hen­ri Carti­er-Bres­son and the Deci­sive Moment

Pho­tog­ra­phy of Lud­wig Wittgen­stein Released by Archives at Cam­bridge

David Lynch Talks About His 99 Favorite Pho­tographs at Paris Pho­to 2012

 

The Beatles’ Final, “Painful” Photo Shoot: A Gallery of Bittersweet Images

lastBeatlesShoot

Well, this is bit­ter­sweet. The pho­to above comes from The Bea­t­les’ final pho­to shoot togeth­er at John Lennon’s new­ly pur­chased estate in Sun­ninghill Berk­shire: clear­ly not a wel­come event for at least one Bea­t­le. The band had just com­plet­ed their final two album releas­es, Let it Be and Abbey Road—famous­ly con­tentious record­ing ses­sions in which George Har­ri­son walked out for a few days with a flip­pant “See you ‘round the clubs,” prompt­ing John Lennon to snap (accord­ing to direc­tor Michael Lind­say-Hogg), “Let’s get in Eric [Clap­ton]. He’s just as good and not such a headache.”

George lat­er recalled the cir­cum­stances of the shoot:

They were film­ing us hav­ing a row. It nev­er came to blows, but I thought, ‘What’s the point of this? I’m quite capa­ble of being rel­a­tive­ly hap­py on my own and I’m not able to be hap­py in this sit­u­a­tion. I’m get­ting out of here.’

Every­body had gone through that. Ringo had left at one point. I know John want­ed out. It was a very, very dif­fi­cult, stress­ful time, and being filmed hav­ing a row as well was ter­ri­ble. I got up and I thought, ‘I’m not doing this any more. I’m out of here.’ So I got my gui­tar and went home and that after­noon wrote Wah-Wah.

It became sti­fling, so that although this new album was sup­posed to break away from that type of record­ing (we were going back to play­ing live) it was still very much that kind of sit­u­a­tion where he already had in his mind what he want­ed. Paul want­ed nobody to play on his songs until he decid­ed how it should go. For me it was like: ‘What am I doing here? This is painful!’

See many more pho­tos from the shoot and read more painful details about the ses­sions and, yes, Yoko, over at Messy Nessy Chic.

via Mefi

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 10-Minute, Nev­er-Released, Exper­i­men­tal Demo of The Bea­t­les’ “Rev­o­lu­tion” (1968)

A Short Film on the Famous Cross­walk From the Bea­t­les’ Abbey Road Album Cov­er

Eric Clapton’s Iso­lat­ed Gui­tar Track From the Clas­sic Bea­t­les Song, ‘While My Gui­tar Gen­tly Weeps’ (1968)

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

Watch as Van Gogh’s Famous Self-Portrait Morphs Into a Photograph

It’s a real­i­ty of big city liv­ing that one occa­sion­al­ly stum­bles upon some famous per­son behav­ing like a mere civil­ian, out walk­ing the dog, buy­ing a lat­te, or tak­ing the kids to some child-cen­tric event. I’m bad at rec­og­niz­ing these lumi­nar­ies out of con­text, which may be why I’m great at mis­tak­en­ly believ­ing some ran­dom cit­i­zen stand­ing beside me at an inter­sec­tion is in fact a not­ed author or beloved char­ac­ter actor. I have thus far nev­er labored under the delu­sion that the guy across the aisle on the F train to Brook­lyn is a one-eared Dutch post-Impres­sion­ist who died over a hun­dred years ago, but that could change.

van gogh portrait photo

Or not. Accord­ing to Lithuan­ian archi­tect and pho­tog­ra­ph­er Tadao Cern, the friend who served as the mod­el for his dig­i­tal recre­ation of Vin­cent Van Gogh’s icon­ic self-por­trait does­n’t resem­ble the painter all that much beyond his gin­ger hair and beard. After tak­ing his pic­ture, Cern devot­ed a day to adjust­ing col­ors and expo­sure in Light­room and fine tun­ing a host of details in Pho­to­shop. Sud­den­ly, the sim­i­lar­i­ties were uncan­ny.

vg Self-PortraitAnd since every Franken­stein needs a bride, Cern has cob­bled togeth­er a Mona Lisa to keep Van Gogh com­pa­ny.

via The Atlantic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mor­ph­ing Van Gogh Por­traits

Simon Schama Presents Van Gogh and the Begin­ning of Mod­ern Art

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is post­ing from the wilds of Cape Cod, where she once spot­ted John Waters rid­ing his bicy­cle to Safe­way in a yel­low slick­er and match­ing all-weath­er pants. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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