How Languages Evolve: Explained in a Winning TED-Ed Animation

Lan­guage. It’s as adapt­able as Darwin’s finch­es.

It’d be inter­est­ing to know how the Inter­net changes the game. Seems like it would go a long way toward democ­ra­tiz­ing the process by which lin­go gets min­gled.

Alex Gendler’s TED-Ed les­son, win­ning­ly ani­mat­ed by Igor Coric, rolls back the clock to a time when com­mu­nal groups would sub­di­vide and strike out on their own, usu­al­ly in order to beef up the food sup­ply.

This sort of geo­graph­ic and tem­po­ral sep­a­ra­tion was bound to take a toll, lin­guis­ti­cal­ly. Evo­lu­tion is need-based. Vocab­u­lary and pro­nun­ci­a­tion even­tu­al­ly betray the specifics of the speak­er’s sur­round­ings, their cir­cum­stances and needs.

It takes some foren­sics to fig­ure out how, or, even if, var­i­ous lan­guages relate to each oth­er. A cun­ning lin­guist (for­give me) will also have the pow­er to fill in his­tor­i­cal gaps, by iden­ti­fy­ing words that have been bor­rowed from neigh­bor­ing cul­tures, as well as more tran­sient acquain­tances.

As a lit­tle exper­i­ment, look at the way you talk! Those of us with­out roy­al blood or a stick up our heinies tend to speak a mon­grel patois cus­tom tai­lored by our own expe­ri­ence. A lit­tle bit of region­al­ism, some pro­fes­sion­al jar­gon, a few col­or­ful words gleaned from life’s char­ac­ters, lines from long ago enter­tain­ments deployed as if the ref­er­ences were fresh.

I’ll bet a lin­guist would have a field day with you, Bub.

Even if you’re the most straight­for­ward con­ver­sa­tion­al­ist on the plan­et, the peo­ple who can’t under­stand a word you say would great­ly out­num­ber those who can.

Maybe we  should all “speak Man­darin,” as per the bill­boards I saw in Sin­ga­pore on a post-col­le­giate trip. (As a West­ern back­pack­er in Birken­stocks and a wrap-around hip­pie skirt, I was exempt, leav­ing me plen­ty of time to wor­ry about being caned for spit­ting gum on the side­walk, a thing I’d nev­er do, by the way.)

Back to the ani­mat­ed les­son, above. While I agree that polit­i­cal and nation­al inter­ests can be huge­ly influ­en­tial with regard to lan­guage devel­op­ment, I’m not sure a pig is the wis­est choice when depict­ing this lin­guis­tic phe­nom­e­non as an ani­mal’s worth of re-zoned pri­mal cuts, labelled a la the for­mer Yugoslavia.

Pork is haraam, and treif, and  ‘pig,’ in and of itself, is hard­ly a flat­ter­ing epi­thet, a sit­u­a­tion that’s sort of insult­ing to a nat­u­ral­ly intel­li­gent and fas­tid­i­ous beast.

I digress.

As does lan­guage, which explains why there could be as many as 8000 of them in use. A more con­ser­v­a­tive esti­mate puts the num­ber at 3000. Not to alarm you, but if the num­ber of peo­ple who speak your lan­guage is what the food­ie hip­sters of Brook­lyn would refer to as “small batch,” there are lin­guists who would down­grade your tongue to mere dialect.

In which case, this list of obscene ges­tures from around the world might well come in handy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn 48 Lan­guages Online for Free: Span­ish, Chi­nese, Eng­lish & More

Ali G and Noam Chom­sky Talk Lin­guis­tics

The Ideas of Noam Chom­sky: An Intro­duc­tion to His The­o­ries on Lan­guage & Knowl­edge (1977)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day’s high­ly idio­syn­crat­ic approach to lan­guage can be stud­ied in sev­en books, a num­ber of antholo­gies, and her long suf­fer­ing zine, the East Vil­lage Inky. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Kafka’s Parable “Before the Law” Narrated by Orson Welles & Illustrated with Pinscreen Art

On Fri­day, we fea­tured Niko­lai Gogol’s “The Nose,” adapt­ed in 1963 through the work-inten­sive but aes­thet­i­cal­ly stun­ning means of “pin­screen ani­ma­tion” by Alexan­der Alex­eieff and Claire Park­er. But they had­n’t labored over it in total obscu­ri­ty; the year before, no less sol­id a pil­lar of Amer­i­can film than Orson Welles had com­mis­sioned their work for use in his adap­ta­tion of Franz Kafka’s The Tri­al, anoth­er work of lit­er­a­ture deeply con­cerned with the absurd. Crit­i­cal opin­ion varies about the film, which some con­sid­er Welles’ best work, oth­ers con­sid­er his worst, and oth­ers still con­sid­er a mix­ture of the two.

It cer­tain­ly remains one of his least-seen works, and yet it con­tains the most main­stream thing Alex­eieff and Park­er ever did. Very few deny the effec­tive­ness of the film’s pro­logue, which com­bines images straight from the hus­band-and-wife team’s pin­screen with Welles’ unmis­tak­able voice read­ing “Before the Law,” a para­ble from Kafka’s nov­el. Alex­eieff and Park­er’s images are still, rather than ani­mat­ed, which must have cut way down on the pro­duc­tion time.

“Before the law, there stands a guard,” Welles intones. “A man comes from the coun­try, beg­ging admit­tance to the law. But the guard can­not admit him. May he hope to enter at a lat­er time? That is pos­si­ble, said the guard. The man tries to peer through the entrance. He’d been taught that the law was to be acces­si­ble to every man. ‘Do not attempt to enter with­out my per­mis­sion,’ says the guard. I am very pow­er­ful. Yet I am the least of all the guards. From hall to hall, door after door, each guard is more pow­er­ful than the last. By the guard’s per­mis­sion, the man sits by the side of the door, and there he waits.” These words estab­lish the basis for not just The Tri­al, but seem­ing­ly Kafka’s own legal sen­si­bil­i­ty, and indeed world­view. The man waits for years, star­ing at the guard and lav­ish­ing him with bribes. He grows old and enfee­bled. Final­ly, he asks why, despite the fact that “every man strives to attain the law,” nobody else but him has ever come to attempt pas­sage through its doors. “Nobody else but you could ever have obtained admit­tance,” the guard replies. “This door was intend­ed only for you! And now, I’m going to close it.” Welles then com­ments that “the log­ic of this sto­ry is the log­ic of a dream… a night­mare.” One under­stands why the direc­tor, who endured so many futile and absurd expe­ri­ences in the enter­tain­ment indus­try, would feel drawn to such a fable. As for how he chose such appro­pri­ate imagery for it — well, maybe just good luck.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Niko­lai Gogol’s Clas­sic Sto­ry, “The Nose,” Ani­mat­ed With the Aston­ish­ing Pin­screen Tech­nique (1963)

Watch Franz Kaf­ka, the Won­der­ful Ani­mat­ed Film by Piotr Dumala

Kafka’s Night­mare Tale, ‘A Coun­try Doc­tor,’ Told in Award-Win­ning Japan­ese Ani­ma­tion

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.

Buddy Holly & Waylon Jennings in a Photo Booth (New York, 1959)

buddy and waylon in photobooth

Two Tex­ans, Bud­dy Hol­ly and Way­lon Jen­nings, met in a restau­rant in Lub­bock when they were teenagers. Hol­ly took the younger Jen­nings under his wing: He played gui­tar on Jen­ning’s first record­ing ses­sion in 1958. That same year, they col­lab­o­rat­ed on the song, “You’re the One.”  And, in late Jan­u­ary 1959, Hol­ly began a three-week tour across the Mid­west — dubbed the “Win­ter Dance Par­ty” — and had Jen­nings play bass in his band. Before they left, the two posed for a pic­ture in a pho­to booth at Grand Cen­tral Sta­tion in New York City.

The “Win­ter Dance Par­ty” would end in tragedy when Hol­ly climbed aboard a char­ter plane that crashed near Clear Lake, Iowa on Feb­ru­ary 3, 1959. Jen­nings got bumped from the flight, get­ting a chance to live beyond the Day the Music Died.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Red­dit

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Ear­li­est Footage of Elvis Pres­ley, Bud­dy Hol­ly and John­ny Cash (1955)

Bud­dy Hol­ly at Age 12: His First Record­ing

John Lennon and The Rolling Stones Sing Bud­dy Hol­ly

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Nikolai Gogol’s Classic Story, “The Nose,” Animated With the Astonishing Pinscreen Technique (1963)

A mild-look­ing bar­ber slices into his morn­ing loaf of bread to find a human nose embed­ded with­in. You might imag­ine this image open­ing the next David Lynch movie, but it actu­al­ly sets up a more light­heart­ed, much old­er, and much more Russ­ian sto­ry: Niko­lai Gogol’s “The Nose.” (Find it in our Free eBooks and Free Audio Books col­lec­tions.) The sto­ry soon intro­duces us to the man to whom the nose belongs, a gov­ern­ment offi­cial who wakes to find noth­ing but a smooth patch of flesh in the mid­dle of his face. The quest to reclaim his nose takes him to the archi­tec­tural­ly impos­ing, col­umn-inten­sive hall in which he works, where he finds that the organ through which he once breathed has not only grown a body of its own, but already risen above him in the ranks of the civ­il ser­vice. To find out how this increas­ing­ly bizarre, dream­like sce­nario resolves itself, you can either read Gogol’s sto­ry in the Eng­lish trans­la­tion free in Project Guten­berg’s copy of the Gogol Col­lec­tion The Man­tle and Oth­er Sto­ries, or you can watch Alexan­der Alex­eieff and Claire Park­er’s 1963 short above, which adapts “The Nose” by means of some­thing called pin­screen ani­ma­tion.

Ian Lums­den at Ani­ma­tion Blog describes Alex­eieff and Park­er’s par­tic­u­lar method as a form of “shad­ow ani­ma­tion in effect where­by Alexan­der works on the pos­i­tive side of a large black can­vas full of pins and Claire on the neg­a­tive side; the more the flat head­ed pins are pushed in the lighter is the effect, cre­at­ing the look of mez­zotint with its tex­tured shades of grey.” Lums­den adds that he “can scarce­ly con­ceive of a more labour inten­sive form of ani­ma­tion par­tic­u­lar­ly giv­en that pins num­bered in their hun­dreds of thou­sands are used.” Just try to pay close atten­tion to some of the effects The Nose achieves and try not to wince at how demand­ing and painstak­ing an effort the ani­ma­tors, push­ing these tiny pins in and out to adjust the visu­al tex­tures just so, must have put forth to achieve them. Russ­ian lit­er­ary his­to­ri­an D.S. Mirsky calls the orig­i­nal sto­ry “a piece of sheer play, almost sheer non­sense,” where “more than any­where else Gogol dis­plays his extra­or­di­nary mag­ic pow­er of mak­ing great com­ic art out of noth­ing.” In these fun­ny and daz­zling but no doubt hard-won eleven min­utes Alex­eieff and Park­er express that sheer play with the most inten­sive ani­mat­ing work pos­si­ble.

You can find “The Nose” on our list of Ani­mat­ed Films, part of our larg­er col­lec­tion called 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Revered Poet Alexan­der Pushkin Draws Sketch­es of Niko­lai Gogol and Oth­er Russ­ian Artists

George Saun­ders’ Lec­tures on the Russ­ian Greats Brought to Life in Stu­dent Sketch­es

Two Beau­ti­ful­ly-Craft­ed Russ­ian Ani­ma­tions of Chekhov’s Clas­sic Children’s Sto­ry “Kash­tan­ka”

Three Ani­mat­ed Shorts by the Ground­break­ing Russ­ian Ani­ma­tor Fyo­dor Khitruk

Watch a Hand-Paint­ed Ani­ma­tion of Dostoevsky’s “The Dream of a Ridicu­lous Man”

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.

Thomas Pynchon Edits His Lines on The Simpsons: “Homer is my role model and I can’t speak ill of him.”

pynchon simpsons edit

In 2002, the elu­sive nov­el­ist Thomas Pyn­chon made two cameo appear­ances on The Simp­sons. Of course, we did­n’t actu­al­ly get to see Pyn­chon. His car­toon depic­tion wore, rather humor­ous­ly, a bag over his head. But, we did get to hear Pyn­chon’s voice. And appar­ent­ly that, alone, was a first.

This past week, Matt Sel­man, an exec­u­tive pro­duc­er for The Simp­sons, shed some more light on those play­ful cameos. On Twit­ter, he post­ed a copy of the script Pyn­chon edit­ed and faxed back to the show’s writ­ers. (Click on the image above to see it in a larg­er for­mat.) In some cas­es, Pyn­chon, always the writer, tweaked the lan­guage to make it flow as he liked. In oth­er cas­es, he added his own mate­r­i­al to the script — new sound effects, jokes, and puns. (The word “Scrump­tious” gets turned into Vi-licious.) And, in one case, he removed a joke. Delet­ing the words “No won­der Homer is such a fat ass,” Pyn­chon scrawled the com­ment: “Sor­ry, guys. Homer is my role mod­el and I can’t speak ill of him.” Final­ly, Homer gets some respect.

Pynchon-simpsons

via The Wall Street Jour­nal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Before The Simp­sons, Matt Groen­ing Illus­trat­ed a “Student’s Guide” for Apple Com­put­ers (1989)

Before The Simp­sons: Homer Groen­ing Directs a 1969 Short Film, The Sto­ry, Star­ring His Kids Mag­gie, Lisa & Matt 

Take a Cin­e­mat­ic Jour­ney into the Mind of Thomas Pyn­chon and His New Book, Bleed­ing Edge

 

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Help Kickstart Baba Brinkman’s Animated Rap Guide to Religion

If you’ve been fre­quent­ing Open Cul­ture long enough, you’ll know all about the Cana­di­an “geek rap­per” Baba Brinkman and his epic raps. The sub­jects of Brinkman’s raps have includ­ed evo­lu­tion, arti­fi­cial selec­tionThe Can­ter­bury Tales, and British ver­sus Cana­di­an Eng­lish. Now, he’s try­ing to crowd­source a new rap album through Kick­starter. Actu­al­ly it’s an ani­mat­ed rap album about the sci­en­tif­ic study of reli­gion. You can lis­ten to two songs (of an even­tu­al eight) over at Kick­starter. They’re called “Reli­gion Evolves” and “Big Gods.”

Cur­rent­ly, 210 back­ers have pledged $13,419 towards the $20,000 he’s try­ing to raise. Above, Baba explains how the mon­ey will be spent. To move for­ward, the cam­paign needs to be ful­ly fund­ed by . We hope you’ll help push Baba over the top. You can make a con­tri­bu­tion here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What’s Your Eng­lish? British v. Cana­di­an Rap Bat­tle

Baba Brinkman: The Rap Guide to Evo­lu­tion

The Can­ter­bury Tales Remixed: Baba Brinkman’s New Album Uses Hip Hop to Bring Chaucer Into the 21st Cen­tu­ry, Yo

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es

David Bowie and Klaus Nomi’s Hypnotic Performance on SNL (1979)

1979 was a strange year in music. A year of end­ings, in a way. Sid Vicious died, Ozzy Osbourne left Black Sab­bath… an old guard fad­ed away. On the oth­er hand, U2 went into the stu­dio for their debut, Kate Bush went on her first tour, and new wave emerged from punk’s end. It was also the year, notably or not, that Berlin/New York cabaret per­former Klaus Nomi broke, sort of. Nomi had been per­form­ing Wag­n­er and Vaude­ville in New York, and David Bowie, always on the make for unusu­al trav­el­ing com­pan­ions, invit­ed him to appear as a back­up singer on Sat­ur­day Night Live. Bowie him­self was in tran­si­tion, leav­ing behind his high con­cept work with Bri­an Eno on his Berlin Tril­o­gy (Low, ”Heroes,” and Lodger) and enter­ing anoth­er high pop phase. It was an abrupt, but nat­ur­al, shift for Bowie; tap­ping into Nomi’s art-pop affec­ta­tions may have seemed a per­fect way to bridge the two.

Bowie, Nomi, and flam­boy­ant New York per­for­mance artist Joey Arias do three songs, reach­ing back to Bowie’s folki­er times for “The Man Who Sold the World.” Bowie launch­es next into Sta­tion to Sta­tion’s “TVC 15” in a skirt and heels, while Nomi and Arias drag around a pink plas­tic poo­dle. For the last num­ber, Lodger’s “When You’re a Boy,” Bowie per­haps invents the look of 80s new wave videos to come—from Peter Gabriel to the Pet Shop Boys—while wear­ing a life-size mar­i­onette cos­tume. Some amaz­ing mech­a­nism, pup­peteers off­stage or Bowie him­self, oper­ates the over­sized arms, and the whole thing takes SNL musi­cal per­for­mances to a place they’d nev­er been. Nomi was so impressed with the cos­tum­ing that he adopt­ed the huge plas­tic tuxe­do Bowie wears dur­ing the first song as his own, wear­ing one on the cov­er of his first album and per­form­ing in it until his death from AIDS in 1983. The broad­cast above took place on Decem­ber 15, 1979.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Klaus Nomi: The Bril­liant Per­for­mance of a Dying Man

Klaus Nomi’s Ad for Jäger­meis­ter (Cir­ca 1980)

David Bowie and Cher Sing Duet of “Young Amer­i­cans” and Oth­er Songs on 1975 Vari­ety Show

David Gilmour & David Bowie Sing “Com­fort­ably Numb” Live (2006)

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

The Art of Swimming, 1587: A Manual with Woodcut Illustrations

art of swimming 7

As the late great Robert Shaw remarked in Jaws, “here’s to swim­min’ with bow-legged women.”

Or fail­ing that, an extreme­ly bow-legged man, as fea­tured in Sir Ever­ard Dig­by’s 1587 trea­tise-cum-man­u­al, De Arte Natan­di (The Art of Swim­ming). Hub­ba hub­ba, who needs trunks?

There were no pools at the time. The male bathers pop­u­lat­ing Digby’s 40 plus wood­cut illus­tra­tions are riv­er swim­mers, like Ben Franklin, the inven­tor of swim fins and the only Found­ing Father to be induct­ed (posthu­mous­ly) into the Inter­na­tion­al Swim­ming Hall of Fame.

art of swimming 6

As Franklin would two cen­turies lat­er, Dig­by sought to bring both water safe­ty and prop­er form to the mass­es. Accord­ing to the BBC’s His­to­ry Mag­a­zine, the Cam­bridge Don’s goal was “to turn swim­ming from a dis­re­gard­ed skill of bargees and boat­men into an accom­plish­ment for gen­tle­men, to make them more like the Romans.”

To get clos­er to his goal, Dig­by breaks it down as deft­ly as an online swim instruc­tor in the era of youtube. When not deliv­er­ing the how to’s on back stroke, side stroke, and dog­gy pad­dle, he’s advis­ing absolute begin­ners on how to enter the water and steer clear of ani­mal-befouled holes, and help­ing more sea­soned stu­dents embell­ish their game with nifty tricks, (danc­ing, toe­nail cut­ting).

art of swimming 5

Pro­long the lazy days of sum­mer by brows­ing through more images from De Arte Natan­di at the Pub­lic Domain Review. Or see the text itself here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Won­der­ful­ly Weird & Inge­nious Medieval Books

Wear­able Books: In Medieval Times, They Took Old Man­u­scripts & Turned Them into Clothes

Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy Illus­trat­ed in a Remark­able Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­script (c. 1450)

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

Joan Rivers (1933–2014) Describes on Louie Her Undying Commitment to Comedy

She didn’t earn the posthu­mous sobri­quet “Comedic Stilet­to” from The New York Times for noth­ing. “Raspy loud­mouth” come­di­an Joan Rivers inspired strong emo­tions and reli­able bursts of con­tro­ver­sy with her abra­sive, take-no-pris­on­ers style. Mas­ter­ing insult com­e­dy was a sur­vival skill for the com­ic who took as much as she dished out while com­ing up in the aggres­sive, most­ly male stand-up world. Before the late-night, fash­ion, and real­i­ty shows, auto­bi­og­ra­phy and doc­u­men­tary, and stints on QVC, Rivers carved paths, paved ways, blazed trails, and left oth­er pio­neer­ing marks for such mas­ters of the put-down as Roseanne Barr, Sarah Sil­ver­man, and oth­ers who—as a 1965 NYT review painful­ly put it—over­came “the hand­i­cap of a woman com­ic.” Ham-fist­ed jabs from the press aside, Rivers said many times she nev­er thought of her­self par­tic­u­lar­ly as a “woman com­ic,” and if that des­ig­na­tion ever sig­ni­fied a “hand­i­cap” or some sort of gim­mick it’s no won­der. She deserved bet­ter than to be patron­ized. Rivers was true to the craft, as every com­ic cur­rent­ly eulo­giz­ing her will tell you, and as she would tell us her­self, at every oppor­tu­ni­ty, but per­haps nev­er more earnest­ly than to Louis C.K. above in a clip from his show. C.K. is moved enough to put one of his sig­na­ture moves on her. Rivers’ response? “Nobody likes necrophil­i­acs.” She will haunt us from the grave with her mor­bid, scalpel-like one-lin­ers, may she rest in peace.

via @sheerly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Robin Williams (1951–2014) Per­forms Unknown Shake­speare Play in 1970s Standup Rou­tine

Don Par­do (1918–2014), Voice of Sat­ur­day Night Live, Sug­gests Using Short Words

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

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

dorothea langeDur­ing the Great Depres­sion, The Farm Secu­ri­ty Administration—Office of War Infor­ma­tion (FSA-OWI) hired pho­tog­ra­phers to trav­el across Amer­i­ca to doc­u­ment the pover­ty that gripped the nation, hop­ing to build sup­port for New Deal pro­grams being cham­pi­oned by F.D.R.‘s admin­is­tra­tion.

Leg­endary pho­tog­ra­phers like Dorothea Lange, Walk­er Evans, and Arthur Roth­stein took part in what amount­ed to the largest pho­tog­ra­phy project ever spon­sored by the fed­er­al gov­ern­ment. All told, 170,000 pho­tographs were tak­en, then cat­a­logued back in Wash­ing­ton DC. The Library of Con­gress became their even­tu­al rest­ing place.

walker evans

We first men­tioned this his­toric project back in 2012, when the New York Pub­lic Library put a rel­a­tive­ly small sam­pling of these images online. But today we have big­ger news.

Yale Uni­ver­si­ty has launched Pho­togram­mar, a sophis­ti­cat­ed web-based plat­form for orga­niz­ing, search­ing, and visu­al­iz­ing these 170,000 his­toric pho­tographs.

arthur rothstein

The Pho­togram­mar plat­form gives you the abil­i­ty to search through the images by pho­tog­ra­ph­er. Do a search for Dorothea Lange’s pho­tographs, and you get over 3200 images, includ­ing the now icon­ic pho­to­graph at the bot­tom of this post.

Pho­togram­mar also offers a handy inter­ac­tive map that lets you gath­er geo­graph­i­cal infor­ma­tion about 90,000 pho­tographs in the col­lec­tion.

And then there’s a sec­tion called Pho­togram­mar Labs where inno­v­a­tive visu­al­iza­tion tech­niques and data exper­i­ments will grad­u­al­ly shed new light on the image archive.

Accord­ing to Yale, the Pho­togram­mar project was fund­ed by a grant from the Nation­al Endow­ment for the Human­i­ties (NEH). Direct­ed by Lau­ra Wexler, the project was under­tak­en by Yale’’s Pub­lic Human­i­ties Pro­gram and its Pho­to­graph­ic Mem­o­ry Work­shop. You can learn more about the gen­e­sis of the project and its tech­ni­cal chal­lenges here.

rothstein 3
Top image: A migrant agri­cul­tur­al work­er in Marysville migrant camp, try­ing to fig­ure out his year’s earn­ings. Tak­en in Cal­i­for­nia in 1935 by Dorothea Lange.

Sec­ond image: Allie Mae Bur­roughs, wife of cot­ton share­crop­per. Pho­to tak­en in Hale Coun­ty, Alaba­ma in 1935 by Walk­er Evans.

Third image: Wife and chil­dren of share­crop­per in Wash­ing­ton Coun­ty, Arkansas. By Arthur Roth­stein. 1935.

Fourth image: Wife of Negro share­crop­per, Lee Coun­ty, Mis­sis­sip­pi. Again tak­en by Arthur Roth­stein in 1935.

Bot­tom image: Des­ti­tute pea pick­ers in Cal­i­for­nia. Moth­er of sev­en chil­dren. Age thir­ty-two. Tak­en by Dorothea Lange in Nipo­mo, Cal­i­for­nia, 1936.

lange bottom

h/t @pbkauf

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Found: Lost Great Depres­sion Pho­tos Cap­tur­ing Hard Times on Farms, and in Town

Down­load for Free 2.6 Mil­lion Images from Books Pub­lished Over Last 500 Years on Flickr

The Get­ty Adds Anoth­er 77,000 Images to its Open Con­tent Archive

The Fin­land Wartime Pho­to Archive: 160,000 Images From World War II Now Online

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Before The Simpsons: Homer Groening Directs a 1969 Short Film, The Story, Starring His Kids Maggie, Lisa & Matt

The Sto­ry (1969) is a cute short film about two kids, Matt and Lisa, telling their younger sis­ter Mag­gie a bed­time sto­ry about meet­ing some ani­mals, and an alien, in the woods. You can watch it above. The Matt in this film is none oth­er than Matt Groen­ing, who would go on to cre­ate The Simp­sons. Their dad, Homer, made the movie. The Simp­sons, as Groen­ing admit­ted in an inter­view with Smith­son­ian mag­a­zine, is more than a lit­tle auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal.

I had been draw­ing my week­ly com­ic strip, “Life in Hell,” for about five years when I got a call from Jim Brooks, who was devel­op­ing “The Tracey Ull­man Show” for the brand-new Fox net­work. He want­ed me to come in and pitch an idea for doing lit­tle car­toons on that show. I soon real­ized that what­ev­er I pitched would not be owned by me, but would be owned by Fox, so I decid­ed to keep my rab­bits in “Life in Hell” and come up with some­thing new.

While I was waiting—I believe they kept me wait­ing for over an hour—I very quick­ly drew the Simp­sons fam­i­ly. I basi­cal­ly drew my own fam­i­ly. My father’s name is Homer. My mother’s name is Mar­garet. I have a sis­ter Lisa and anoth­er sis­ter Mag­gie, so I drew all of them. I was going to name the main char­ac­ter Matt, but I didn’t think it would go over well in a pitch meet­ing, so I changed the name to Bart.

Groen­ing incor­po­rat­ed oth­er auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal ele­ments into The Simp­sons too. For instance, the Groen­ing fam­i­ly, like Bart and com­pa­ny, lived on Ever­green Ter­race. In that same inter­view with Smith­son­ian, he all but admit­ted that the show is set in his native Ore­gon. And he even hint­ed that the names of a cou­ple despised school­yard bul­lies made their way into the show.

matt-lisa-maggie

The real Homer, how­ev­er, was very dif­fer­ent from the donut-obsessed rube in the car­toon. “My father was a real man’s man, you know. He was a B17 bomber pilot in the War, sta­tioned in Eng­land. So I grew up with this very intim­i­dat­ing, tough act to fol­low,” Groen­ing told the Tele­graph. “The nice thing was that he would leave his pens out for me to play with. But then he was not par­tic­u­lar­ly approv­ing of what I came up with.”

And while the ear­ly episodes of the Simp­sons, which show Homer being per­pet­u­al­ly irri­tat­ed by his smart aleck son, hints at the com­pli­cat­ed rela­tion­ship Groen­ing had with his father, he also cred­its him – and the movie above in par­tic­u­lar – for inspir­ing his huge­ly suc­cess­ful show.

He used to tape-record the fam­i­ly sur­rep­ti­tious­ly, either while we were dri­ving around or at din­ner, and, in 1963, he and I made up a sto­ry about a broth­er and a sis­ter, Lisa and Matt, hav­ing an adven­ture out in the woods with ani­mals. I told it to my sis­ter Lisa, and she in turn told it to my sis­ter Mag­gie. My father record­ed the telling of the sto­ry by Lisa to Mag­gie, and then he used it as the sound­track to a movie. So the idea of dra­ma­tiz­ing the family—Lisa, Mag­gie, Matt—I think was the inspi­ra­tion for doing some­thing kind of auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal with “The Simp­sons.” There is an aspect of the psy­cho­dy­nam­ics of my fam­i­ly in which it makes sense that one of us grew up and made a car­toon out of the fam­i­ly and had it shown all over the world.

via Laugh­ing Squid/Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Before The Simp­sons, Matt Groen­ing Illus­trat­ed a “Student’s Guide” for Apple Com­put­ers (1989)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrowAnd check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly. 


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