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Gene Wilder Recalls the Beginnings of His Creative Life in Two Hilarious, Poignant Stories

We’d grown accus­tomed to his face—that wry, dis­tinc­tive mug, smirk­ing at us from beneath his Willy Won­ka pur­ple top hat in mil­lions of pro­lif­er­at­ing Con­de­scend­ing Won­ka memes, the epit­o­me of arch­ness and smug con­de­scen­sion. Apolo­gies to John­ny Depp, but no one else could have so per­fect­ly inhab­it­ed Roald Dahl’s mer­cu­r­ial can­dy­man like Gene Wilder, who passed away yes­ter­day from Alzheimer’s at the age of 83. Wilder’s Won­ka may casu­al­ly tor­ture his spoiled child guests, but we remem­ber him as a sadist with a heart of gold.

Willy Won­ka and the Choco­late Fac­to­ry, like Pee Wee’s Big Adven­ture, is one of those rare films beloved both by chil­dren and adults (or at least I remem­ber them that way); many future gen­er­a­tions will dis­cov­er Wilder’s man­ic bril­liance in his col­lab­o­ra­tions with Mel Brooks—Blaz­ing Sad­dles, Young Franken­stein, The Pro­duc­ers—and with Richard Pry­or, his friend and fre­quent com­ic foil. And those who lived through the 80s will also remem­ber Wilder for one of the great romances of the decade.

Wilder and Gil­da Rad­ner were a com­e­dy pow­er cou­ple whose mar­riage end­ed trag­i­cal­ly with her death from ovar­i­an can­cer in 1989. That same year he received a diag­no­sis of non-Hodgkin’s lym­phoma. “Wilder was dev­as­tat­ed by Radner’s death,” writes Vari­ety, “and only worked inter­mit­tent­ly after that.” But he nev­er lost his sharp, mad­cap sense of humor and deep well of gen­uine vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty as his career shift­ed into low­er gears in the ensu­ing decades. (He won an Emmy in 2003 for a guest role on Will & Grace and pub­lished a nov­el in 2007).

Wilder was always hap­py to share his cre­ative insights and sto­ries with fans, giv­ing fre­quent inter­views in the last few years and appear­ing on pan­els like that above, a 1999 forum on “The Won­ders of Cre­ativ­i­ty” with Jane Alexan­der, Dan­ny Glover, and oth­ers. Wilder shares a hilar­i­ous­ly irrev­er­ent sto­ry from his child­hood about how he learned to con­scious­ly make oth­er peo­ple laugh by prac­tic­ing on his moth­er after she’d had a heart attack.

This anec­dote gives way to anoth­er, both laugh out loud fun­ny and heart­break­ing at once, of young, 1st-grade Gene (then Jer­ry Sil­ber­man) fac­ing rejec­tion from a teacher (“That stu­pid lady”) who told him his art­work wasn’t good enough to hang on the wall. The hurt stayed with him, so that in 1984, he tells us, “I began paint­ing. Now I try to paint every day of my life.” Wilder com­mu­ni­cates his cre­ative phi­los­o­phy through per­son­al vignettes like these, col­or­ful­ly illus­trat­ing how he became an actor Pauline Kael called “a superb tech­ni­cian… [and] an inspired orig­i­nal.”

In the ani­mat­ed Blank on Blank inter­view clip above—taken from his 2007 con­ver­sa­tion with Let­ty Cot­tin Pogre­bin at the 92nd Street Y after the debut of his novel—Wilder opens with anoth­er ver­sion of the sto­ry about his moth­er, the source, he says of his con­fi­dence as an actor. He began his career in the the­ater in the ear­ly six­ties, and says he “felt on stage, or in the movies, I could do what­ev­er I want­ed to. I was free.” He also talks about actors’ mys­te­ri­ous moti­va­tions:

If you ask an actor, “Why do you want to act?,” I don’t think most of them know the real rea­sons. After sev­en and a half years of analy­sis, I have a fair­ly good idea why. My ana­lyst said, “Well, it’s bet­ter than run­ning around naked in Cen­tral Park, isn’t it?”

Wilder then tells the sto­ry of how he sug­gest­ed Willy Wonka’s dra­mat­ic entrance to the film’s director—insisted on it, in fact, as a con­di­tion for tak­ing the part. “From that time on,” he said of the character’s first moments on screen, “no one will know if I’m lying or telling the truth.” That was the comedic genius of Gene Wilder, may it live for­ev­er in some of the most sweet­ly hys­ter­i­cal and wicked­ly fun­ny char­ac­ters in film his­to­ry. Learn more about Wilder’s life and long career in the ret­ro­spec­tive doc­u­men­tary below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Anne Ban­croft and Mel Brooks Sing “Sweet Geor­gia Brown” Live…and in Pol­ish

John Cleese’s Phi­los­o­phy of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Cre­at­ing Oases for Child­like Play

Richard Pry­or Does Ear­ly Stand-Up Com­e­dy Rou­tine in New York, 1964

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

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A 12-Hour Eastern Spirituality Playlist: Features Lectures & Readings by Joseph Campbell, Christopher Isherwood, the Dalai Lama & Others

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Krish­na teach­ing Arju­na, from the Bha­ga­va­ta Gita, by Arnab Dut­ta, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Open­ing with 19th cen­tu­ry British Prime Min­is­ter Ben­jamin Disraeli’s quote, “The East is a career,” Edward Said’s Ori­en­tal­ism traced the lin­eage of “the Ori­ent” as “almost a Euro­pean inven­tion.” Through dis­cours­es sci­en­tif­ic, polit­i­cal, philo­soph­i­cal, cul­tur­al, and oth­er­wise, Euro­pean thinkers, artists, and states­men, Said con­tend­ed, “accept­ed the basic dis­tinc­tion between East and West as the start­ing point for elab­o­rate the­o­ries, epics, nov­els, social descrip­tions and polit­i­cal accounts.” But at the root of a long aca­d­e­m­ic tra­di­tion of com­par­a­tive analy­ses of “East” and “West,”—a rela­tion­ship of dominance—there lay the recog­ni­tion, how­ev­er dim, that “The Ori­ent is not only adja­cent to Europe; it is also… the source of its civ­i­liza­tions and lan­guages.”

The cul­tur­al debts that Europe owed its colonies were not the kind of thing most politi­cians liked to dis­cuss, but many Euro­pean and U.S. writ­ers and schol­ars fas­ci­nat­ed with the East have long rec­og­nized reli­gious and philo­soph­i­cal con­ti­nu­ities between the two hemi­spheres. The num­ber of con­ver­sa­tions between so-called West­ern and East­ern tra­di­tions only increased as the 20th cen­tu­ry wore on and Euro­pean Empires crum­bled, giv­ing rise mid-cen­tu­ry to a whole soci­ety of com­par­a­tive East/West reli­gion­ists and writ­ers: D.T. Suzu­ki, Alan Watts, Her­man Hesse, Aldous Hux­ley, Allen Gins­berg.… Although many West­ern schol­ars’ pro­nounce­ments may have over­gen­er­al­ized or dis­tort­ed, inter­est in a dia­logue has only grown since the 50s and 60s, and sym­pa­thet­ic pre­sen­ta­tions of Bud­dhism, Tao­ism, Hin­duism, and oth­er “East­ern reli­gions” pro­lif­er­at­ed.

From this atmos­phere emerged the work of Joseph Camp­bell, famous for The Hero with a Thou­sand Faces, pub­lished in 1949, a work of com­par­a­tive reli­gion that adopt­ed a philo­log­i­cal approach to myth like that of Campbell’s own hero, Niet­zsche. Camp­bell may have seen East and West as dis­tinct cul­tur­al entities—titling one lec­ture “The East­ern Way” and anoth­er “The West­ern Quest”—but his the­o­ry did not allow for a strict cul­tur­al hier­ar­chy. In his many record­ed lec­tures, Camp­bell stress­es the sim­i­lar­i­ties and com­mon ori­gins of world tra­di­tions, which inhab­it, he says, a “sin­gle con­stel­la­tion.” We have a few of those talks in full in the 12 hour Spo­ti­fy playlist on East­ern Spir­i­tu­al­i­ty above, includ­ing lec­tures on “Imagery of Rebirth Yoga” and “Hin­duism,” deliv­ered in the late six­ties.

We also have Christo­pher Ish­er­wood read­ing selec­tions from his trans­la­tion with Swa­mi Prab­ha­vanan­da of the Bha­gavad-Gita. Isherwood’s famed embrace of Vedan­ta did much to fos­ter inter-reli­gious dia­logue, and he left behind a “tremen­dous cache of self-rev­e­la­to­ry works,” writes Amer­i­can Vedan­tist, “includ­ing essays, lec­tures, nov­els, his diaries, and the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal My Guru and His Dis­ci­ple.” Next to Camp­bell and Ish­er­wood, we have Tibetan Bud­dhist author­i­ty the Dalai Lama giv­ing an intro­duc­to­ry lec­ture on Bud­dhism and a talk on “Cul­ti­vat­ing Hap­pi­ness.” Round­ing out the playlist is anoth­er intro­duc­tion to Bud­dhism by Emma Hignett, a read­ing of the Tao te Ching, and a read­ing by Robert Hamil­ton of his fas­ci­nat­ing com­par­a­tive study of world reli­gions, Caduceus.

While each of us could, of course, take it upon our­selves to learn San­skrit, or Pali, or Chi­nese, trans­late ancient reli­gious lit­er­a­ture and draw our own con­clu­sions, we can also par­take of the work of schol­ars and writ­ers who have invest­ed deeply in their sub­ject, per­son­al­ly and pro­fes­sion­al­ly, and returned with a great deal of wis­dom about glob­al spir­i­tu­al tra­di­tions. The lec­tures on this playlist (if you need Spo­ti­fy’s free soft­ware, down­load it here) offer an excel­lent sam­pling of that wis­dom and schol­ar­ship. You’ll find much more on our site in work by Jorge Luis Borges, Alan Watts, Robert Thur­man, the Dalai Lama, Her­bie Han­cock, Son­ny Rollins, Leonard Cohen, and many more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es

Mar­tin Hei­deg­ger Talks Phi­los­o­phy with a Bud­dhist Monk on Ger­man Tele­vi­sion (1963)

The Wis­dom of Alan Watts in Four Thought-Pro­vok­ing Ani­ma­tions

The Dalai Lama’s Intro­duc­tion to Bud­dhism

48 Hours of Joseph Camp­bell Lec­tures Free Online: The Pow­er of Myth & Sto­ry­telling

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

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James Joyce: An Animated Introduction to His Life and Literary Works

So maybe you didn’t take a class on James Joyce’s Ulysses in col­lege with a wiz­ened pro­fes­sor from Dublin who explained in excru­ci­at­ing detail, week after week, why the famed mod­ernist writer is the great­est nov­el­ist that ever lived and also some kind of sec­u­lar sage and con­duit of the col­lec­tive genius of human­i­ty. Maybe your encounter with Joyce began and end­ed with a few sto­ries from Dublin­ers or with the thin­ly veiled mem­oir, A Por­trait of an Artist as a Young Man. In that case, you may won­der why he inspires such cult-like devo­tion, even to the point of hav­ing his own hol­i­day, Blooms­day, in which, Jonathan Gold­man writes, “aca­d­e­mics and pro­fes­sion­als min­gle with obses­sives and cranks”—many of either camp-dressed in peri­od garb, quot­ing Ulysses from mem­o­ry, and re-enact­ing major scenes from the nov­el.

If you don’t know Joyce at all, or haven’t read Ulysses, there’s no time like the present to dis­cov­er why you should. In his short School of Life ani­mat­ed video above, Alain de Bot­ton lays out just a few of the rea­sons for the Joyce-wor­ship, includ­ing the writer’s “devo­tion to some cru­cial themes” like “the idea of the grandeur of ordi­nary life” and “his deter­mi­na­tion to por­tray what actu­al­ly goes on through our heads moment by moment, what we now know, part­ly thanks to him, as the ‘stream-of-con­scious­ness.’” That phrase did not orig­i­nate with Joyce, how­ev­er, but with William James in the 1890s and his descrip­tion of the col­lec­tive char­ac­ter­is­tics of “per­son­al con­scious­ness.”

But since Joyce’s lit­er­ary use of inte­ri­or mono­logues that mim­ic the ran­dom asso­ci­a­tions of thought, we use “stream-of-con­scious­ness” to mean “the pre­sen­ta­tion of thoughts and sense impres­sions in a life­like fash­ion.” The “life­like­ness” of Joyce’s approach explains its appeal to so broad a range of read­ers, and its influ­ence upon so many writ­ers. Ulysses may prin­ci­pal­ly be a nov­el about Dublin, as are all of Joyce’s books, but it also retells the epic sto­ry of the Odyssey, a “pin­na­cle of high cul­ture,” Bot­ton pro­nounces, through the worka­day mean­der­ings, rou­tines, and dis­trac­tions of ordi­nary, undis­tin­guished peo­ple.

Ancient lit­er­a­ture like Homer gives us great men of action—archetypes ruled by fate—and the Vic­to­ri­an nov­el Joyce replaced offers extremes of aris­toc­ra­cy and des­ti­tu­tion. In Ulysses, shop­keep­ers, bar­tenders, seam­stress­es, stu­dents, and adver­tis­ing men become three-dimen­sion­al, psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly real actors in a his­tor­i­cal dra­ma, sim­ply by being who they are. Ulysses’ pro­tag­o­nist, Leopold Bloom, is “very unlike a tra­di­tion­al hero, but he is rep­re­sen­ta­tive of our aver­age, unim­pres­sive, frag­ile, but still rather like­able every­day selves.”

The novel’s cat­a­logue of Bloom’s thoughts and actions over the course of an unex­cep­tion­al day com­mu­ni­cate to us that “the appar­ent­ly lit­tle things that hap­pen in dai­ly life… aren’t real­ly lit­tle things at all. If we look at them through the right lens, they are revealed as beau­ti­ful, seri­ous, deep and fas­ci­nat­ing. Our own lives are just as fas­ci­nat­ing as those of the tra­di­tion­al heroes.” We must also note, how­ev­er, that Ulysses makes huge demands on its read­er. As one ear­ly review­er of the nov­el wrote, “few intu­itive, sen­si­tive vision­ar­ies may under­stand and com­pre­hend ‘Ulysses’… with­out going through a course of train­ing or instruc­tion.” Like Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy, which great­ly influ­enced Joyce, Ulysses is laden with local and his­tor­i­cal ref­er­ences, poet­ic allu­sions, and arcane philo­soph­i­cal and the­o­log­i­cal debates… one may need a Vir­gil to fin­ish the tour.

If we’re spec­u­lat­ing about Joyce’s inten­tions in giv­ing us ordi­nary char­ac­ters through extra­or­di­nary lit­er­ary means, they may have been less didac­tic than ped­a­gog­i­cal. Yes, we can see our ordi­nary selves—the shape and form of our “per­son­al consciousness”—looking back at us from Ulysses’ pages. To use a cur­rent buzz­word, Joyce was a “mas­ter of lit­er­ary mind­ful­ness.” We must become bet­ter, more patient and dili­gent read­ers to appre­ci­ate the epic scope of human inte­ri­or­i­ty in his best known nov­el. In that regard, Joyce teach­es us not only to think of our­selves as heroes, but also to move through our seem­ing­ly banal mod­ern envi­ron­ment with the same lev­el of curios­i­ty, excite­ment, and awe that moves us through the world of Odysseus. They are ulti­mate­ly, he sug­gests, the same world.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Very First Reviews of James Joyce’s Ulysses: “A Work of High Genius” (1922)

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

Carl Jung Writes a Review of Joyce’s Ulysses and Mails It To The Author (1932)

Free Online Lit­er­a­ture Cours­es

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

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Carl Jung Explains Why His Famous Friendship with Sigmund Freud Fell Apart in Rare 1959 Audio

Sig­mund Freud and Carl Jung—leg­endary friends and col­leagues, then rivals—“were not good for one anoth­er,” wrote Lionel Trilling in a 1974 review of their new­ly-pub­lished cor­re­spon­dence. Their friend­ship, begun in 1907, “made them sus­cep­ti­ble to false atti­tudes and ambigu­ous tones.” Freud first thought of Jung as “the Joshua to his Moses,” his “heir” and “suc­ces­sor and crown prince.” Twen­ty years his mentor’s junior, Jung swore feal­ty to Freud’s pro­gram, hop­ing not to dis­ap­point the man. But this was inevitable.

Freud’s harsh 1913 break-up let­ter to his for­mer dis­ci­ple shows us the lim­its of the Vien­nese doctor’s kind­ness as he recounts the “lin­ger­ing effect of past dis­ap­point­ments” that has sev­ered his “emo­tion­al tie” with Jung. Forty-six years lat­er, and twen­ty years after Freud’s death, Jung remained tac­i­turn about the per­son­al details of their rela­tion­ship. In the 1959 inter­view above, Jung tells us how their “long and pen­e­trat­ing con­ver­sa­tions” began after he sent Freud a book he’d writ­ten on schiz­o­phre­nia. In answer to the ques­tion, “what kind of man was Freud?” Jung gives us only a hint of his mentor’s obsti­na­cy, say­ing he “soon dis­cov­ered that when [Freud] had thought some­thing, then it was set­tled.”

As for him­self, Jung says he “was doubt­ing all the time,” a con­se­quence of his devot­ed study of Kant, where Freud “had no philo­soph­i­cal edu­ca­tion.” Their method­olog­i­cal impasse only grew as Jung pur­sued the sym­bol­ic depths of the col­lec­tive uncon­scious, and their the­o­ries began to diverge on almost meta­phys­i­cal grounds. And yet, Jung cred­its their tur­bu­lent rela­tion­ship for inspir­ing his “lat­er inves­ti­ga­tion of psy­cho­log­i­cal types.” Dur­ing their acquain­tance, the two ana­lyzed each oth­er fre­quent­ly; asked about “the sig­nif­i­cant fea­tures of Freud’s dreams,” Jung refus­es to answer on the grounds of keep­ing “pro­fes­sion­al secrets.”

Jung died two years after this inter­view, and in 1970 the Freud and Jung fam­i­lies made what Trilling called “the enlight­ened deci­sion” to pub­lish their cor­re­spon­dence togeth­er in one vol­ume, in Ger­man and Eng­lish. You’ll hear Jung above dis­cuss his unwill­ing­ness to release the let­ters before his death. At the very end of the short inter­view he talks more explic­it­ly about his break with Freud. While Freud may have felt let down by his one­time dis­ci­ple, Jung express­es his own dis­ap­point­ment with Freud’s “pure­ly per­son­al approach and his dis­re­gard of the his­tor­i­cal con­di­tions of man.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Famous Let­ter Where Freud Breaks His Rela­tion­ship with Jung (1913)

Carl Jung’s Hand-Drawn, Rarely-Seen Man­u­script The Red Book: A Whis­pered Intro­duc­tion

Sig­mund Freud Speaks: The Only Known Record­ing of His Voice, 1938

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

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Marie Osmond Performs the Dadaist Poem “Karawane” on the TV Show, Ripley’s Believe It or Not (1985)

Remem­ber Don­ny and Marie Osmond, the toothy, teenage Mor­mon sib­lings whose epony­mous tele­vi­sion vari­ety show was a whole­some 70’s mix of skits, songs, and ice skat­ing?

Their sur­pris­ing­ly endur­ing theme song reduced their pop­u­lar­i­ty to an eas­i­ly gras­pable bina­ry for­mu­la:

She was a lit­tle bit coun­try. He was a lit­tle bit rock and roll.

Turns out Marie was also more than a lit­tle bit Dada.

From 1985 to 1986, Marie served as actor Jack Palance’s cohost on Ripley’s Believe It or Not, a TV series explor­ing strange occur­rences, bizarre his­tor­i­cal facts, and oth­er such crowd-pleas­ing odd­i­ties… one of which was appar­ent­ly the afore­men­tioned Euro­pean avant-garde art move­ment, found­ed a hun­dred years ago this week.

If you don’t know as much about Dada as you’d like, Ms. Osmond’s brief primer is a sur­pris­ing­ly stur­dy intro­duc­tion.

No cutesy boot­sy, easy ref­er­ences to melt­ing clocks here.

The high­light is her per­for­mance of Dada poet and man­i­festo author Hugo Bal­l’s non­sen­si­cal 1916 sound poem “Karawane.”

Lose the yel­low bathrobe and she could be a cap­tive war­rior princess on Game of Thrones, fierce­ly peti­tion­ing the Moth­er of Drag­ons on behalf of her peo­ple. (Invent some sub­ti­tles for extra Dada-inflect­ed fun!)

A sharp eyed young art stu­dent named Ethan Bates did catch one error in Marie’s les­son. The ’13’ cos­tume she pulls from a handy dress­ing room niche was not worn by Hugo Ball, but rather Dutch painter Theo Van Does­burg, one of the founders of the De Sti­jl move­ment.

Still you’ve got to hand it to Marie, who was slat­ed to per­form just a sin­gle line of the poem. When it came time to tape, she aban­doned the cue cards, blow­ing pro­duc­ers’ and crew’s minds by deliv­er­ing the poem in its unhinged entire­ty from mem­o­ry.

Now that’s rock and roll.

Below you’ll find footage of Ball him­self per­form­ing the work in 1916.

Marie’s ver­sion was even­tu­al­ly released by Rough Trade Records as a track on Lip­stick Traces, a com­pan­ion sound­track to Greil Mar­cus’ sem­i­nal book.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dada Was Born 100 Years Ago: Cel­e­brate the Avant-Garde Move­ment Launched by Hugo Ball on July 14, 1916

Hear the Exper­i­men­tal Music of the Dada Move­ment: Avant-Garde Sounds from a Cen­tu­ry Ago

Down­load All 8 Issues of Dada, the Arts Jour­nal That Pub­li­cized the Avant-Garde Move­ment a Cen­tu­ry Ago (1917–21)

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

 

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Download All 8 Issues of Dada, the Arts Journal That Publicized the Avant-Garde Movement a Century Ago (1917–21)

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Sur­re­al­ism, Dis­cor­dian­ism, Frank Zap­pa, Sit­u­a­tion­ism, punk rock, the Res­i­dents, Devo… the anar­chists of coun­ter­cul­ture in all their var­i­ous guis­es may nev­er have come into being—or into the being they did—were it not for an anti-art move­ment that called itself Dada. And like many of those anar­chist coun­ter­cul­tur­al move­ments and artists, Dada came about not as a play­ful exper­i­ment in “dis­rupt­ing” the art world for fun and profit—to use the cur­rent jargon—but as a polit­i­cal­ly-charged response to ratio­nal­ized vio­lence and com­pla­cent banal­i­ty. In this case, as a response to Euro­pean culture’s descent into the mass-mur­der of World War One, and to the domes­ti­ca­tion of the avant-garde’s many pro­lif­er­at­ing isms.

Dada_2_Dec_1917

The explic­it tenets of Dada, in their inten­tion­al­ly scram­bled way, were ecu­meni­cal, inter­na­tion­al, anti-elit­ist, and con­cerned with ques­tions of craft. “The hos­pi­tal­i­ty of the Swiss is some­thing to be pro­found­ly appre­ci­at­ed,” wrote poet Hugo Ball in his 1916 Dada man­i­festo, “And in ques­tions of aes­thet­ics the key is qual­i­ty.” Ball con­ceived Dada as a means of reach­ing back toward pri­mal ori­gins, “to show how artic­u­lat­ed lan­guage comes into being…. I shall be read­ing poems that are meant to dis­pense with con­ven­tion­al lan­guage, no less, and to have done with it.” Risk­ing a lapse into solip­sism, Ball sneered at “The word, the word, the word out­side your domain, your stuffi­ness, this laugh­able impo­tence, your stu­pen­dous smug­ness, out­side all the par­rotry of your self-evi­dent lim­it­ed­ness.” And yet, he con­clud­ed, “The word, gen­tle­men, is a pub­lic con­cern of the first impor­tance.”

Dada_7_Mar_1920

Two years lat­er, artist Tris­tan Tzara issued a more bil­ious Dada man­i­festo with sim­i­lar intent: “a need for inde­pen­dence… a dis­trust toward uni­ty.” At once intense­ly polit­i­cal and anti-the­o­ret­i­cal, he wrote, “Those who are with us pre­serve their free­dom…. Here we are drop­ping our anchor in fer­tile ground.” How right he was, we can say 100 years lat­er. “How­ev­er short-lived,” writes Corin­na da Fon­se­ca-Woll­heim in a New York Times cel­e­bra­tion of Dada’s 100th anniver­sary, “Dada con­sti­tutes some­thing like the Big Bang of Mod­ernism.” Both Ball and Tzara posi­tioned Dada as a col­lec­tive, inter­na­tion­al move­ment. As such, it need­ed a pub­li­ca­tion to both cen­tral­ize and spread its anti-estab­lish­ment mes­sages: thus Dada, the arts jour­nal, first pub­lished in 1917 and print­ing 8 issues in Zurich and Paris until 1921.

Dada_3_Dec_1918

Edit­ed by Tzara and includ­ing his man­i­festo in issue 3, the mag­a­zine “served to dis­tin­guish and define Dada in the many cities it infil­trat­ed,” writes the Art Insti­tute of Chica­go, “and allowed its major fig­ures to assert their pow­er and posi­tion.” Dada suc­ceed­ed a pre­vi­ous attempt by Ball at a jour­nal called Cabaret Voltaire—named for his Zurich theater—which sur­vived for one issue in 1917 before fold­ing, along with the first ver­sion of the cabaret. That year, Tzara, “an ambi­tious and skilled pro­mot­er… began a relent­less cam­paign to spread the ideas of Dada…. As Dada gained momen­tum, Tzara took on the role of a prophet by bom­bard­ing French and Ital­ian artists and writ­ers with let­ters about Dada’s activ­i­ties.” What­ev­er Dada was, it wasn’t shy about pro­mot­ing itself.

Janco Dada

The first issue (cov­er at the top), con­tained com­men­tary and poet­ry in French and Ital­ian, and art­work like that above by impor­tant Roman­ian Dada artist, archi­tect, and the­o­rist Mar­cel Jan­co. Issues 4 and 5 were pub­lished togeth­er as an anthol­o­gy, then World War I end­ed, and with trav­el again pos­si­ble, Tzara, sev­er­al Dada com­pa­tri­ots, and the jour­nal moved to Paris. The final issue, Num­ber 8, appeared in a trun­cat­ed form. You can down­load each issue as a PDF from Mono­skop or from Prince­ton University’s Blue Moun­tain Project, which also has an online view­er that allows you to pre­view each page before down­load­ing.

Dada_4-5_May_1919

Ball and Tzara were not the only assertive dis­sem­i­na­tors of Dada’s art and aims. The Art Insti­tute of Chica­go notes that in Berlin a “high­ly aggres­sive and polit­i­cal­ly involved Dada group” pub­lished its own short-lived jour­nal, Der Dada, from 1919–1920. Down­load all three issues of that pub­li­ca­tion from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Iowa here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dada Was Born 100 Years Ago: Cel­e­brate the Avant-Garde Move­ment Launched by Hugo Ball on July 14, 1916      

Hear the Exper­i­men­tal Music of the Dada Move­ment: Avant-Garde Sounds from a Cen­tu­ry Ago

Exten­sive Archive of Avant-Garde & Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890–1939) Now Avail­able Online

Down­load 336 Issues of the Avant-Garde Mag­a­zine The Storm (1910–1932), Fea­tur­ing the Work of Kandin­sky, Klee, Moholy-Nagy & More

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

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Watch “The Corridor,” a Tribute to the Music Video Stanley Kubrick Planned to Make Near the End of His Life

When Stan­ley Kubrick died, he left behind numer­ous film ideas that would nev­er see the light of day. There was his epic Napoleon film; an adap­ta­tion of a Jim Thomp­son nov­el; his long-talked about Holo­caust film Aryan Papers; and so much more.

But this was a new one to hear about: in 1996 Kubrick agreed to direct a music video for UNKLE’s upcom­ing Psyence Fic­tion album. You may recall, back when MTV played music videos, see­ing Jonathan Glazer’s “Rab­bit in Your Head­lights” video, or Jake Scott’s “Be There,” both from UNKLE’s album. Alas, Kubrick­’s video nev­er got made. He had start­ed film­ing Eyes Wide Shut and then passed away upon its release.

Now “The Cor­ri­dor,” a glimpse of which you can see above, is an attempt to bring Kubrick and UNKLE back togeth­er. It’s not what actu­al­ly might have been filmed by the direc­tor, but some­thing that cap­tures the project in spir­it. It’s also a lov­ing trib­ute to Kubrick’s career and his love of sin­gle-point per­spec­tive, which has been video essayed else­where.

Direc­tor Toby Dye, who has direct­ed videos like “Par­adise Cir­cus” for Mas­sive Attack and “Anoth­er Night Out” for UNKLE, took on the job of bring­ing “The Cor­ri­dor” to the screen, co-designed by Rid­ley Scott Asso­ciates, work­ing with Dye’s Black Dog Films.

“The Cor­ri­dor” uses the one song off Psyence Fic­tion that nev­er got a video, the Richard Ashcroft-sung “Lone­ly Souls,” as its back­drop. Dye has cre­at­ed four nar­ra­tives that play on Kubrick’s icon­ic films–The Shin­ing, A Clock­work Orange, Bar­ry Lyn­don,and 2001–but then inter­weaves time and char­ac­ter along a long cor­ri­dor track­ing shot, star­ring Joan­na Lum­ley and Aiden Gillen.

In addi­tion, “The Cor­ri­dor” is a video cen­ter­piece to what sounds like a very cool exhi­bi­tion. Curat­ed by Mo’Wax and UNKLE founder James Lavelle, “Day­dream­ing with Stan­ley Kubrick” opened yes­ter­day at Som­er­set House in Lon­don and runs through August 24, 2016. Along with the video, the exhi­bi­tion fea­tures art­works cel­e­brat­ing Kubrick’s influ­ence on gen­er­a­tions of artists. (The stack of heaters on top of the Over­look car­pet is great.)

Said Dye:

‘For me, the unblink­ing red eye of 2001 A Space Odyssey’s HAL 9000 per­fect­ly encap­su­lates the cin­e­ma of Stan­ley Kubrick. For all his films share that same cool­ly ana­lyt­i­cal gaze, study­ing from afar mankind and all its many foibles. Kubrick’s cam­era nev­er appeared to fol­low the action, it was as if it moved of its own accord and the tableau of life sim­ply unfurled before it. It was his seem­ing­ly nev­er-end­ing cam­era zooms from Bar­ry Lyn­don that first sparked the seed of the idea behind “The Cor­ri­dor,” before that idea grew, and grew into some­thing that was, at times, infu­ri­at­ing­ly ambi­tious, but I hope in the best tra­di­tion of the man who inspired it.’

Those who can’t attend will have to wait and see if and when the full video for “The Cor­ri­dor” appears online. In the mean­time, Som­er­set House awaits.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Napoleon: The Great­est Movie Stan­ley Kubrick Nev­er Made

A Tour of Stan­ley Kubrick’s Prized Lens Col­lec­tion

The Shin­ing and Oth­er Com­plex Stan­ley Kubrick Films Recut as Sim­ple Hol­ly­wood Movies

Lost Kubrick: A Short Doc­u­men­tary on Stan­ley Kubrick’s Unfin­ished Films

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

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Hear Electronic Ladyland, a Mixtape Featuring 55 Tracks from 35 Pioneering Women in Electronic Music

Electronic Ladyland

Giv­en that we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured two doc­u­men­taries on elec­tron­ic music pio­neer Delia Der­byshirean intro­duc­tion to four oth­er female com­posers who pio­neered elec­tron­ic music (Daphne Oram, Lau­rie Spiegel, Éliane Radigue & Pauline Oliv­eros), and sev­en hours of elec­tron­ic music made by women between 1938 and 2014, no loy­al Open Cul­ture read­er could claim igno­rance on the theme of this new mix­tape, Elec­tron­ic Lady­land. It comes from the French musi­cal project Aran­del, whose mem­bers remain anony­mous and could there­fore be of any gen­der, but who, in these 45 min­utes (made of 55 dif­fer­ent tracks by 35 female com­posers), dis­play a mas­tery of the field.

“We real­ized that an uncon­scious fem­i­nine elec­tron­ic music Inter­na­tionale has exist­ed through­out the ages and we won­dered whether a secret intu­ition might have gath­ered around shared research,” says Aran­del in a trans­lat­ed inter­view. “Was their mutu­al desires achieved dif­fer­ent­ly in dif­fer­ent coun­tries, with dif­fer­ent tools in dif­fer­ent time­zones? The idea was to see what would hap­pen if we gath­ered them in the same fic­ti­tious room for 45 min­utes, and built a choir from all their pro­duc­tions.”

Aran­del’s inter­view­er describes the musi­cians in the mix as com­ing from “very dif­fer­ent musi­cal hori­zons: we find aca­d­e­m­ic learned musi­cians, research music com­posers and exper­i­menters who used to do DIY works com­posed for adver­tis­ing or tele­vi­sion in a pop or easy lis­ten­ing con­text, some eccen­tric women like The Space Lady or Ruth White.” We also hear from famous names like Lau­rie Ander­son and Wendy Car­los, and Delia Der­byshire. “What she accom­plished is fas­ci­nat­ing,” says Aran­del of Der­byshire, “as is lis­ten­ing to her talk about her inter­est­ing work in doc­u­men­taries,” and they’ve also includ­ed work from Daphne Oram, Lau­rie Spiegel, Eliane Radigue, and Pauline Oliveiros, sub­jects of the oth­er doc­u­men­taries we’ve post­ed here.

Elec­tron­ic Lady­land drops you right into a retro-futur­is­tic son­ic land­scape equal­ly dance­able and haunt­ing, one with great vari­ety as well as an unex­pect­ed con­sis­ten­cy. It pro­vides not just a kind of brief overview of what cer­tain gen­er­a­tions of female com­posers dis­cov­ered with their new and then-strange elec­tron­ic instru­ments and oth­er devices, but one you may well want to keep in your library for fre­quent lis­ten­ing. It will also, accord­ing to Aran­del, make you think: “There is an almost mag­ic link between women and elec­tron­ic music, from the 50’s / 60’s. Have you asked your­self the ques­tion of social, artis­tic, maybe mag­ic rea­sons behind this link?” Hit the play but­ton, and you may start. Find the list of tracks below.

1. Gly­nis Jones : Mag­ic Bird Song (1976)

2. Doris Nor­ton : Nor­ton Rythm Soft (1986)

3. Colette Mag­ny : « Avec » Poème (1966)

4. Daphne Oram : Just For You (Excerpt 1)

5. Lau­rie Spiegel : Clock­works (1974)

6. Pauline Oliveiros : Bog Bog (1966)

7. Megan Roberts — I Could Sit Here All Day (1977)

8. Suzanne Ciani : Paris 1971

9. Lau­rie Ander­son : Tape Bow Trio (Say Yes) (1981)

10. Gly­nis Jones : Schlum Rooli (1975)

11. Ruth White : Mists And Rains (1969)

12. Wendy Car­los : Spring (1972)

13. Ann McMil­lan : Syrinx (1978)

14. Delia Der­byshire : Rest­less Relays (1969)

15. Mag­gi Payne : Flights Of Fan­cy (1986)

16. Else Marie Pade : Syv Cirkler (1958)

17. Daniela Casa : Ricer­ca Del­la Mate­ria (1975)

18. The Space Lady : Domine, Libra Nos (1990)

19. Johan­na Bey­er : Music Of The Spheres [1938]

20. Mad­dale­na Fagan­di­ni : Inter­val Sig­nal (1960)

21. Eliane Radigue : Chryp­tus I (1970)

22. Ruth White : Owls (1969)

23. Ursu­la Bogn­er : Spe­ichen (1979)

24. Beat­riz Fer­reyra — Demeures Aqua­tiques (1967)

25. Doris Nor­ton : War Mania Analy­sis (1983)

26. Tera De Marez Oyens : Safed (1967)

27. Daphne Oram : Rhyth­mic Vari­a­tion II (1962)

28. Mireille Chamass-Kyrou : Etude 1 (1960)

29. Lau­rie Spiegel : Drums (1983)

30. Tere­sa Ram­pazzi : Stom­a­co 2 (1972)

31. Tere­sa Ram­pazzi : Esofa­go 1 (1972)

32. Suzanne Ciani : Fourth Voice: Sound Of Wet­ness (1970)

33. Ursu­la Bogn­er : Expan­sion (1979)

34. Alice Shields : Sac­ri­fice (1993)

35. Megan Roberts and Ray­mond Ghi­rar­do : ATVO II (1987)

36. Lau­rie Ander­son : Drums (1981)

37. Doris Hays : Som­er­sault Beat (1971)

38. Lily Green­ham : Tillid (1973)

39. Ruth Ander­son : Points (1973–74)

40. Pril Smi­ley : Kolyosa (1970)

41. Cather­ine Chris­ter Hen­nix : The Elec­tric Harp­si­chord (1976)

42. Joan La Bar­bara : Solo for Voice 45 (from Song­books) (1977)

43. Sla­va Tsuk­er­man, Bren­da Hutchin­son & Clive Smith : Night Club 1 (1983)

44. Monique Rollin : Motet (Etude Vocale) (1952)

45. Sofia Gubaiduli­na : Vivente – Non Vivente (1970)

46. Ruth White : Spleen (1967)

47. Doris Hays : Scared Trip (1971)

48. Daphne Oram : Pulse Perse­phone (Alter­nate Parts For Mix­ing)

49. Mag­gi Payne : Game­lan (1984)

50. Lau­rie Spiegel : The Unques­tioned Answer (1980)

51. Ursu­la Bogn­er : Homöo­stat (1985)

52. Wendy Car­los : Sum­mer (1972)

53. Suzanne Ciani : Princess With Orange Feet

54. Pauline Oliveiros : Poem Of Change (1993)

55. Suzanne Ciani : Thir­teenth Voice: And All Dreams Are Not For Sale (1970)

via Elec­tron­ic Beats

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Sev­en Hours of Women Mak­ing Elec­tron­ic Music (1938- 2014)

Two Doc­u­men­taries Intro­duce Delia Der­byshire, the Pio­neer in Elec­tron­ic Music

Meet Four Women Who Pio­neered Elec­tron­ic Music: Daphne Oram, Lau­rie Spiegel, Éliane Radigue & Pauline Oliv­eros

1200 Years of Women Com­posers: A Free 78-Hour Music Playlist That Takes You From Medieval Times to Now

The His­to­ry of Elec­tron­ic Music in 476 Tracks (1937–2001)

The His­to­ry of Elec­tron­ic Music, 1800–2015: Free Web Project Cat­a­logues the Theremin, Fairlight & Oth­er Instru­ments That Rev­o­lu­tion­ized Music

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Watch “Don’t Be a Sucker!,” the 1947 US Government Anti-Hatred Film That’s Relevant All Over Again

If you aren’t seri­ous­ly dis­turbed, even alarmed, that we in the U.S. have a pres­i­den­tial can­di­date from a major polit­i­cal par­ty who suc­ceeds by whip­ping up xeno­pho­bic fer­vor and telling us the coun­try must not only rein­sti­tute tor­ture, but must do “the unthink­able”… well…. I don’t real­ly know what to say to you. Per­haps more symp­tom than cause of a glob­al turn toward trib­al hatred, the GOP can­di­date has lent his name to a phe­nom­e­non char­ac­ter­ized by cultish devo­tion to an author­i­tar­i­an strong­man, ser­i­al false­hood, and easy, uncrit­i­cal scape­goat­ing. We needn’t look far back in time to see the his­tor­i­cal ana­logues, whether in the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry, at the end of the 19th, or dur­ing any num­ber of his­tor­i­cal moments before and after.

We also needn’t look very far back to find a his­to­ry of resis­tance to author­i­tar­i­an big­otry, and not only from Civ­il Rights cam­paign­ers and left­ists, but also, as you can see above, from the U.S. War Depart­ment. In 1947, the Depart­ment released the short pro­pa­gan­da film, “Don’t Be a Suck­er!”, aimed at mid­dle-class Amer­i­can Joes. Shot at Warn­er Stu­dios, the film opens with some typ­i­cal noirish crime sce­nar­ios, com­plete with con­vinc­ing­ly noir light­ing and cam­era angles, to visu­al­ly set up the char­ac­ter of the “suck­er” who gets tak­en in by sin­is­ter but seduc­tive characters—“people who stay up nights try­ing to fig­ure out how to take away” what the every­man has. What do naïve poten­tial marks in this anal­o­gy have to lose? Amer­i­can plen­ty: “plen­ty of food, big fac­to­ries to make things a man can use, big cities to do the busi­ness of a big coun­try, and peo­ple, lots of peo­ple.”

“Peo­ple,” the nar­ra­tor says, work­ing the farms and fac­to­ries, dig­ging the mines and run­ning the busi­ness­es: “all kinds of peo­ple. Peo­ple from dif­fer­ent coun­tries with dif­fer­ent reli­gions, dif­fer­ent col­ored skins. Free peo­ple.” Is this disin­gen­u­ous? You bet. We’re told this aggre­gate of peo­ple is “free to vote”—and we know this to be large­ly untrue in prac­tice for many, neces­si­tat­ing the Vot­ing Rights Act almost twen­ty years lat­er. Free to “pick their own jobs”? Employ­ment dis­crim­i­na­tion, seg­re­ga­tion, and sex­ism effec­tive­ly pre­vent­ed that for mil­lions. But the sen­ti­ments are noble, even if the facts don’t ful­ly fit. As our aver­age Joe wan­ders along, con­tem­plat­ing his advan­tages, he hap­pens upon a reac­tionary street­corner demogague harangu­ing against for­eign­ers, African-Amer­i­cans, Catholics, and Freema­sons (?) on behalf of “real Amer­i­cans.” Sounds plen­ty famil­iar.

The voice of rea­son comes from a nat­u­ral­ized Hun­gar­i­an pro­fes­sor who wit­nessed the rise of Nazism in Berlin and who explains to our every­man the strat­e­gy of fanat­ics and fascists—divide and rule. “We human beings are not born with prej­u­dices,” says the wise pro­fes­sor, “always they are made for us. Made by some­one who wants some­thing. Remem­ber that when you hear this kind of talk. Somebody’s going to get some­thing out of it. And it isn’t going to be you.” The remain­der of the film most­ly con­sists of the Hun­gar­i­an pro­fes­sor’s rec­ol­lec­tions of how the Nazis won over ordi­nary Ger­mans.

all american superman

“Don’t Be a Suck­er!” uses a clever rhetor­i­cal strat­e­gy, appeal­ing to the self-inter­est and van­i­ty of the every­man while couch­ing that appeal in egal­i­tar­i­an val­ues. The very recent his­tor­i­cal exam­ple of fas­cist Europe car­ries sig­nif­i­cant weight, where too often today that his­to­ry gets treat­ed like a joke, turned into crude and mud­dled memes. This film would have had real impact on the view­ing audi­ence, who would have seen it before their fea­ture in the­aters across the coun­try.

It’s worth not­ing that this film came out dur­ing a peri­od of increas­ing Amer­i­can pros­per­i­ty and com­par­a­tive eco­nom­ic equi­ty. The jobs “Don’t Be a Suck­er!” lists with pride have dis­ap­peared. Today’s every­man, we might say, has even more rea­son for sus­cep­ti­bil­i­ty to the dem­a­gogue’s appeals. The Inter­net Archive notes an irony here “in the light of Cold War anti-Com­mu­nist pol­i­tics, which real­ly came into their own in the year this film was made.” The street­corner pop­ulist calls to mind peo­ple like Joseph McCarthy and J. Edgar Hoover (and he looks like George Wallace)—powerful gov­ern­ment author­i­ties who cast sus­pi­cion on every move­ment for Civ­il Rights and social equal­i­ty.

“Don’t Be a Suck­er!” may seem like an out­lier, but it’s rem­i­nis­cent of anoth­er piece of patri­ot­ic, anti-racist-and-reli­gious-big­otry propaganda—the Super­man car­toon above, which first appeared in 1949, dis­trib­uted to school chil­dren as a book cov­er by some­thing called The Insti­tute for Amer­i­can Democ­ra­cy. You may have seen ver­sions of a full-col­or poster, reprint­ed in sub­se­quent years. Here, Super­man express­es the same egal­i­tar­i­an val­ues as “Don’t Be a Suck­er!” only instead of call­ing racism a con-job, he calls it “Un-Amer­i­can,” using the favorite denun­ci­a­tion of HUAC and oth­er anti-Com­mu­nist groups.

His­to­ry and the present moment may often prove otherwise—showing us just how very Amer­i­can racism and big­otry can be, but so too are numer­ous counter-move­ments on the left and, as these exam­ples show, from more con­ser­v­a­tive, estab­lish­ment cor­ners as well.

“Don’t Be a Suck­er!” will be added to our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

h/t Daniel Buk

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Redis­cov­ered: The First Amer­i­can Anti-Nazi Film, Banned by U.S. Cen­sors and For­got­ten for 80 Years

Bertolt Brecht Tes­ti­fies Before the House Un-Amer­i­can Activ­i­ties Com­mit­tee (1947)

Did Hol­ly­wood Movies Stu­dios “Col­lab­o­rate” with Hitler Dur­ing WW II? His­to­ri­an Makes the Case

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

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Laurie Anderson’s Top 10 Books to Take to a Desert Island

Her avant-garde per­for­mance art endeared her to the New York art world long before she dat­ed, then mar­ried, one of the most influ­en­tial men in rock and roll. Her work has at times been over­shad­owed by her more con­ven­tion­al­ly famous part­ner and col­lab­o­ra­tor, but after his death, she con­tin­ues to make chal­leng­ing, far ahead-of-its-time work and rede­fine her­self as a cre­ative force.

No, I don’t mean Yoko Ono, but the for­mi­da­ble Lau­rie Ander­son. In addi­tion to her exper­i­men­tal art, Ander­son is a film­mak­er, sculp­tor, pho­tog­ra­ph­er, writer, com­pos­er, and musi­cian. Her sur­prise elec­tron­ic hit “O Super­man” (above) from her debut 1982 album Big Sci­ence, “warns of ever-present death from the air in an era of jin­go­ism,” writes David Gra­ham at The Atlantic.

Ander­son her­self explains the song as based on a “beau­ti­ful 19th-cen­tu­ry aria by Massenet… a prayer to author­i­ty. The lyrics are a one-sided con­ver­sa­tion, like a prayer to God. It sounds sinister—but it is sin­is­ter when you start talk­ing to pow­er.”

“O Super­man” speaks, mock­ing­ly, to Amer­i­can mil­i­tary hege­mo­ny and to a par­tic­u­lar his­tor­i­cal event, the Iran hostage cri­sis. As such, it is rep­re­sen­ta­tive of much of her work, meld­ing clas­si­cal instincts and musi­cian­ship with elec­tron­ic exper­i­men­ta­tion and a dark­ly com­ic sen­si­bil­i­ty that she often wields like a crit­i­cal scalpel on U.S. polit­i­cal attitudes—from her huge, five-record 1984 live album Unit­ed States (with songs like “Yan­kee See” and “Demo­c­ra­t­ic Way”) to her 2010 project Home­land.

One of Anderson’s most recent pieces, Dirt­day, “responds,” she says above, to “a very trag­ic sit­u­a­tion… a decade after 9/11… so much fear. Dirt­day was real­ly inspired by try­ing to look at that fear… almost from a point of view of ‘what is it when a whole nation gets hyp­no­tized?’” Her art may be polit­i­cal­ly oppo­si­tion­al, but she also admits, that “as a sto­ry­teller, I find my ‘col­leagues’ in pol­i­tics, you know, a lit­tle bit clos­er than I thought.” The admis­sion belies Anderson’s abil­i­ty to incor­po­rate mul­ti­ple per­spec­tives into her com­plex nar­ra­tives, as all great writ­ers do. And great writ­ers begin as read­ers, their work in dia­logue with the books that move and shape them.

So what does Lau­rie Ander­son read? Below, you’ll find a list of her top ten books, curat­ed by One Grand, a “book­store in which cel­e­brat­ed thinkers, writ­ers, artists, and oth­er cre­ative minds share the ten books they would take to their metaphor­i­cal desert island.” Her choic­es include great com­ic sto­ry­tellers, like Lau­rence Sterne, and chron­i­clers of the lum­ber­ing beast that is the U.S., like Her­man Melville. Oth­er well-known nov­el­ists, like Nabokov and Annie Dil­lard, sit next to Bud­dhist texts and cre­ative non­fic­tion. It’s a fas­ci­nat­ing list, and if you’re as intrigued and inspired by Ander­son­’s work as I am, you’ll want to read, or re-read, every­thing on it.

Skip on over to One Grand to read Anderson’s com­plete, wit­ty com­men­taries on each of her choic­es.

Also check out, UBUweb, which has a nice col­lec­tion of Lau­rie Ander­son­’s ear­ly video work.

via The New York Times Mag­a­zine

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pat­ti Smith’s List of Favorite Books: From Rim­baud to Susan Son­tag

David Fos­ter Wallace’s Sur­pris­ing List of His 10 Favorite Books, from C.S. Lewis to Tom Clan­cy

David Bowie’s Top 100 Books

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

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