Search Results for "college"

Google’s UX Design Professional Certificate: 7 Courses Helps Prepare Students for an Entry-Level Job in 6 Months

Dur­ing the pan­dem­ic, Google launched a series of Career Cer­tifi­cates that will “pre­pare learn­ers for an entry-lev­el role in under six months.” One such cer­tifi­cate focus­es on User Expe­ri­ence Design, or what’s called UX Design, the process design teams use to cre­ate prod­ucts that pro­vide mean­ing­ful expe­ri­ences to users.

Offered on the Cours­era plat­form, the User Expe­ri­ence (UX) Design Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate fea­tures sev­en cours­es, includ­ing the Foun­da­tions of User Expe­ri­ence, Start the UX Design Process, Build Wire­frames and Low-Fideli­ty Pro­to­types, and Con­duct UX Research and Test Ear­ly Con­cepts. In total, this pro­gram “includes over 200 hours of instruc­tion and hun­dreds of prac­tice-based activ­i­ties and assess­ments that sim­u­late real-world UX design sce­nar­ios and are crit­i­cal for suc­cess in the work­place. The con­tent is high­ly inter­ac­tive and devel­oped by Google employ­ees with decades of expe­ri­ence in UX design.” Upon com­ple­tion, stu­dents can direct­ly apply for jobs with Google and over 130 U.S. employ­ers, includ­ing Wal­mart, Best Buy, and Astreya. You can start a 7‑day free tri­al and explore the cours­es. If you con­tin­ue beyond that, Google/Coursera will charge $39 USD per month. That trans­lates to about $235 after 6 months.

Explore the User Expe­ri­ence (UX) Design Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate by watch­ing the video above. Learn more about the over­all Google career cer­tifi­cate ini­tia­tive here. And find oth­er Google pro­fes­sion­al cer­tifi­cates here.

Note: Open Cul­ture has a part­ner­ship with Cours­era. If read­ers enroll in cer­tain Cours­era cours­es and pro­grams, it helps sup­port Open Cul­ture.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Google Intro­duces 6‑Month Career Cer­tifi­cates, Threat­en­ing to Dis­rupt High­er Edu­ca­tion with “the Equiv­a­lent of a Four-Year Degree”

Cours­era and Google Launch an Online Cer­tifi­cate Pro­gram to Help Stu­dents Become IT Pro­fes­sion­als & Get Attrac­tive Jobs

Become a Project Man­ag­er With­out a Col­lege Degree with Google’s Project Man­age­ment Cer­tifi­cate

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In 1922, a Novelist Predicts What the World Will Look Like in 2022: Wireless Telephones, 8‑Hour Flights to Europe & More

A cen­tu­ry ago, the pop­u­lar Eng­lish nov­el­ist W.L. George sat down and put his mind to envi­sion­ing the world we live in today. That world has not, alas, turned out to be one in which his books are much read, but in his day a great many read­ers were moved by his social cause-dri­ven fic­tion and reportage. One might com­pare him to Upton Sin­clair, his con­tem­po­rary on the oth­er side of the Atlantic. In the Paris-born-and-raised George’s ances­tral home­land, George Orwell described him as an author of what G.K. Chester­ton called “good bad books,” sin­gling out for praise his 1920 nov­el Cal­iban amid the “shod­dy rub­bish” of his wider oeu­vre.

Still even authors of rub­bish — and per­haps espe­cial­ly authors of rub­bish — can sense the shape of things to come. For its edi­tion of May 7, 1922, the New York Her­ald com­mis­sioned George to share that sense with their read­ers. In response he described a world in which “com­mer­cial fly­ing will have become entire­ly com­mon­place,” reduc­ing the sep­a­ra­tion of Amer­i­ca and Europe to eight hours, and whose pas­sen­ger steam­ers and rail­roads will have con­se­quent­ly fall­en into obso­les­cence. “Wire­less teleg­ra­phy and wire­less tele­phones will have crushed the cable sys­tem,” result­ing in gen­er­a­tions who’ll nev­er have seen “a wire out­lined against the sky.”

That goes for the trans­mis­sion of elec­tric­i­ty as well, since George cred­its (a bit hasti­ly, it seems) the pos­si­bil­i­ty of wire­less pow­er sys­tems of the kind researched by Niko­la Tes­la. In 2022, coal will take a dis­tant back­seat to the tides, the sun, and radi­um, and “it may also be that atom­ic ener­gy will be har­nessed.” As for the cin­e­ma, “the fig­ures on the screen will not only move, but they will have their nat­ur­al col­ors and speak with ordi­nary voic­es. Thus, the stage as we know it to-day may entire­ly dis­ap­pear, which does not mean the doom of art, since the movie actress of 2022 will not only need to know how to smile but also how to talk.”

Oth­er women, how­ev­er, have proven just as capa­ble as George had imag­ined: “All posi­tions will be open to them and a great many women will have risen high. The year 2022 will prob­a­bly see a large num­ber of women in Con­gress, a great many on the judi­cial bench, many in civ­il ser­vice posts, and per­haps some in the Pres­i­den­t’s Cab­i­net.” Georges fore­sees the birth-con­trol pill, but also the “pill lunch.” Unlike some reform­ers, he hes­i­tates to declare the abo­li­tion of the fam­i­ly, but he does imag­ine the “major­i­ty of mankind” occu­py­ing mod­u­lar homes in high-rise com­mu­nal dwellings (“I have a vision of walls, fur­ni­ture, and hang­ings made of more or less com­pressed papi­er-mâché”), all gath­ered in cli­mate-con­trolled cities set under glass.

On the whole, in 2022, “the advance­ment of sci­ence will be amaz­ing, but it will be noth­ing like so amaz­ing as is the present day in rela­tion to a hun­dred years ago.” Indeed, he sus­pects that a glimpse of our real­i­ty would­n’t much sur­prise “the lit­tle girl who sells can­dies at Grand Cen­tral Sta­tion.” It could even be dull, what with com­plete set­tle­ment and devel­op­ment leav­ing “no more oppor­tu­ni­ty in Amer­i­ca than there is in Eng­land to-day.” In 1922, George could write that “in fic­tion, Amer­i­ca leads the world by sin­cer­i­ty, faith and fear­less­ness,” and believe that “in 2022 Amer­i­can lit­er­a­ture will be a lit­er­a­ture of cul­ture. The bat­tle will be over and the muz­zle off. There will be no more things one can’t say, and things one can’t think.” What­ev­er the inspi­ra­tions of his prophe­cy, they must not have told him about social media.

You can find a copy of George’s orig­i­nal arti­cle over at the Library of Con­gress.

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 Messy Nessy

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1953, a Tele­phone-Com­pa­ny Exec­u­tive Pre­dicts the Rise of Mod­ern Smart­phones and Video Calls

Jules Verne Accu­rate­ly Pre­dicts What the 20th Cen­tu­ry Will Look Like in His Lost Nov­el, Paris in the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tu­ry (1863)

In 1900, Ladies’ Home Jour­nal Pub­lish­es 28 Pre­dic­tions for the Year 2000

Futur­ist from 1901 Describes the World of 2001: Opera by Tele­phone, Free Col­lege & Pneu­mat­ic Tubes Aplen­ty

In 1911, Thomas Edi­son Pre­dicts What the World Will Look Like in 2011: Smart Phones, No Pover­ty, Libraries That Fit in One Book

In 1926, Niko­la Tes­la Pre­dicts the World of 2026

9 Sci­ence-Fic­tion Authors Pre­dict the Future: How Jules Verne, Isaac Asi­mov, William Gib­son, Philip K. Dick & More Imag­ined the World Ahead

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The Anti-Vaxxer Who Waged War Against Jonas Salk & His Polio Vaccine: When History Keeps Repeating

Almost imme­di­ate­ly after Scot­tish doc­tor Edward Jen­ner learned how to inoc­u­late humans against small­pox in 1796, mass move­ments sprang up in Eng­land and the U.S. to oppose the mea­sure. The rejec­tion of inoc­u­la­tion and vac­ci­na­tion gen­er­al­ly made its stand on “polit­i­cal grounds,” says Yale his­to­ri­an Frank Snow­den. For over two hun­dred years, peo­ple have “wide­ly con­sid­ered [vac­cines to be] anoth­er form of tyran­ny.” In the 19th cen­tu­ry, fears of gov­ern­ment con­trol mutat­ed into pseu­do­sci­en­tif­ic con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries claim­ing the small­pox vac­cine might cause, for exam­ple, the growth of hooves and horns or the birth of human/cow hybrid babies.

The push­back against the small­pox vac­cine, writes Slate’s Nick Kep­pler, occurred dur­ing a time “when argu­ments about bod­i­ly integri­ty and reli­gious objec­tion car­ried as much weight as sci­en­tif­ic evi­dence.” But vac­cine sci­ence pro­gressed nonethe­less, and sci­en­tif­ic insti­tu­tions – very much in league with gov­ern­ment by the mid-20th cen­tu­ry – shared their largesse in the form of med­ical break­throughs and con­sumer con­ve­niences. “The post­war era was a very trust-in-sci­ence-era,” says researcher sci­en­tist Jonathan M. Berman, author of Anti-Vaxxers: How to Chal­lenge a Mis­in­formed Move­ment. “The pub­lic not just accept­ed, but cheered, the head­line-mak­ing work of guys in white lab coats,” Kep­pler remarks.

Not every­one was cheer­ing for Jonas Salk, the March of Dimes, and the polio vac­cine, how­ev­er. While celebri­ties like Elvis Pres­ley legit­imized the vac­cine in the eyes of a pre­vi­ous­ly skep­ti­cal pub­lic, a few fer­vent anti-vaxxers rose to promi­nence, some using the same com­bi­na­tion of fear mon­ger­ing, pseu­do­sci­en­tif­ic spec­u­la­tion, and con­spir­a­to­r­i­al think­ing com­mon to the small­pox era – and com­mon, once again, in the time of COVID-19.

One of these fig­ures, Flori­da busi­ness­man Duon Miller, found­ed a cos­met­ics com­pa­ny, then invest­ed his own mon­ey and that of oth­ers into an orga­ni­za­tion called Polio Pre­ven­tion Inc., a one-man oper­a­tion that pur­port­ed to fight polio with infor­ma­tion about nutri­tion. Miller’s orga­ni­za­tion actu­al­ly served to under­mine the vac­cine with a host of out­ra­geous, log­i­cal­ly fal­la­cious claims about the caus­es of polio and the dan­gers of vac­ci­na­tion. As Kep­pler notes:

Like today’s COVID skep­tics, Miller cher­ry-picked physi­cians who were skep­ti­cal of polio as a virus and mis­rep­re­sent­ed facts. One mail­er was a rapid fire of out-of-con­text infor­ma­tion: Salk “isn’t entire­ly sat­is­fied with the vac­cine.” Some chil­dren still got polio after being vac­ci­nat­ed. And just as the “real” num­ber of COVID-19 deaths pales in com­par­i­son to vac­cine deaths in some dark cor­ners of the inter­net, so it was with polio in Miller’s world: “Polio ‘CRIPPLES’ and Polio ‘DEATHS’ are mere­ly ‘Sta­tis­tics’ to the ‘Char­i­ty-Bro­kers,’ whose record to date of ‘Crip­ples’ and ‘Deaths’ is TRULY DISGRACEFUL.”

Like many con­spir­a­cy the­o­rists today, Miller’s claims con­tained sev­er­al ker­nels of truth, mis­placed in the ser­vice of a bizarre cru­sade. Research now ties excess con­sump­tion of soft drinks, white flour, and refined sug­ar to an increase in can­cers and heart dis­ease. In this, Miller was pre­scient, giv­en that these are the some of the biggest killers in the coun­try. But this had noth­ing to do with the polio virus. Miller’s uncrit­i­cal think­ing, mis­tak­ing large-scale cor­re­la­tions for cau­sa­tion, typ­i­fies con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries. His appeal to the wel­fare of chil­dren also strikes a famil­iar chord, but it’s unsur­pris­ing in this case, giv­en that “polio was a dis­ease of chil­dren,” says René F. Najera, edi­tor of the Col­lege of Physi­cians of Philadelphia’s His­to­ry of Vac­cines project, “so peo­ple were already afraid for their chil­dren.” Com­par­a­tive­ly, COVID-19 “has large­ly left chil­dren alone … so we don’t mobi­lize as much.”

Kep­pler draws many oth­er par­al­lels between Miller’s per­son­al anti-polio vac­cine project and the efforts today to resist the COVID-19 vac­cine, all rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Amer­i­can anti-intel­lec­tu­al­ism and the well-fund­ed will to dis­be­lieve what the sci­ence clear­ly demon­strates. Miller dis­trib­uted mail­ers in schools around Flori­da, accept­ed hun­dreds in dona­tions, and print­ed thou­sands of pam­phlets for dis­tri­b­u­tion. He even offered to get inject­ed with the polio virus to show that it was harm­less. How­ev­er, “fed­er­al charges end­ed Miller’s cru­sade,” when he was charged with “send­ing ‘libel­lous, scur­rilous and defam­a­to­ry’ state­ments through the mail” in 1954, the year Salk read­ied nation­wide tri­als of the vac­cine. Five years lat­er, “U.S. polio cas­es were about 14 per­cent of what they were in 1952, thanks to vac­ci­na­tion,” not, as Miller would have the pub­lic believe, a change in diet. “Give us prop­er diets,” he con­tin­ued to write to news­pa­pers, “and we’ll solve the phys­i­cal imper­fec­tions of Amer­i­cans young and old.” He might have been on to a good argu­ment about nutri­tion just by chance, but the pub­lic had no rea­son to lis­ten to his opin­ions about polio sim­ply because he could afford to cir­cu­late them.

via Steve Sil­ber­man

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Elvis Pres­ley Gets the Polio Vac­cine on The Ed Sul­li­van Show, Per­suad­ing Mil­lions to Get Vac­ci­nat­ed (1956)

How the World’s First Anti-Vax Move­ment Start­ed with the First Vac­cine for Small­pox in 1796, and Spread Fears of Peo­ple Get­ting Turned into Half-Cow Babies

How Do Vac­cines (Includ­ing the COVID-19 Vac­cines) Work?: Watch Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tions

Dying in the Name of Vac­cine Free­dom

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

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An Opera Singer & Cabaret Artist Record an Astonishing Version of David Bowie & Queen’s “Under Pressure”

On the sur­face of things, Antho­ny Roth Costan­zo, the inter­na­tion­al­ly-rec­og­nized coun­tertenor and Justin Vivian Bond, the sub­ver­sive per­for­mance artist best known for their cre­ation Kiki DuRane, “an alco­holic bat­tle-axe with a throat full of razor-blades,” would have lit­tle rea­son to share a mic, let alone inhab­it the same stage.

Leave sur­faces behind!

Their genre-defy­ing, just released album, Only An Octave Apart, explores the depths that lurk beneath them, find­ing com­mon cause between their cho­sen art forms and then some. The album’s title, a nod to the open­ing num­ber of a Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera tele­vi­sion spe­cial star­ring come­di­an Car­ol Bur­nett and oper­at­ic sopra­no Bev­er­ly Sills, is just the tip of the ice­berg.

As they state in the pro­gram notes for a recent appear­ance with the New York Phil­har­mon­ic at Jazz at Lin­coln Cen­ter:

We each sound dif­fer­ent from what you would expect when you look at us. The jux­ta­po­si­tion of our voic­es, per­son­al­i­ties, and reper­toire sub­verts notions of high and low, be it in terms of pitch, cul­tur­al ech­e­lon, or degrees of camp — not to men­tion the dif­fer­ence in height.

If you thought David Bowie and Fred­die Mer­cury sent things into the stratos­phere when they joined forces on “Under Pres­sure,” lis­ten to Costan­zo and Bond’s take, above.

Their Dido’s Lament / White Flag Med­ley smash­es the musi­cal bina­ry with a del­i­ca­cy that is giv­en room to grow.

Costan­zo begins with two and a half soar­ing min­utes from Hen­ry Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas.

Intro­duc­ing the num­ber at Jazz at Lin­coln Cen­ter, he recalled how Dido & Aeneas was one of his first pro­fes­sion­al opera gigs at 19. No, he was­n’t cast as the fatal­ly dis­traught Queen of Carthage, a diva role he’s eyed for years, but rather the Sec­ond Woman and First Witch.

(“Sec­ond Woman / First Witch…sounds like the sto­ry of my life,” Bond mar­veled. “I own it! Can you imag­ine if you were First Woman and Sec­ond Witch?”)

Costan­zo got his chance at Dido in the sum­mer of 2020 when, with per­for­mance venues still closed due to the pan­dem­ic, he hatched an idea to cart Phil­har­mon­ic musi­cians and guest singers around the city’s five Bor­oughs in a rent­ed pick­up dubbed the NY Phil Band­wag­on80-some free per­for­mances lat­er, he felt ready to record.

When Bond joins in, it’s with Eng­lish singer-song­writer Dido’s 2003 chart top­per, White Flag, which also speaks to the pains of love. The sin­cer­i­ty of the per­form­ers caus­es a gor­geous alchem­i­cal reac­tion to soft­en the posi­tions of more than a few staunch opera-phobes and pop-deniers.

(“The won­der­ful thing about the opera,” Bond cracks, “is when you wake up, you’re at the opera!”)

Their Egypt­ian Sun mash up is born of an even can­nier pair­ing — The Ban­gles’ mid-80s hit, Walk Like An Egypt­ian and Philip Glass’ ancient Egypt-themed min­i­mal­ist mod­ern opera, Akhnat­en, in which Costan­za recent­ly starred, mak­ing his first entrance nude and flecked with gold.

Oth­er trea­sures from this fruit­ful col­lab­o­ra­tion include skill­ful inter­twin­ings of Tom Jobim’s Bossa nova favorite Águas de Março (Waters of March) with Gioachi­no Rossini’s Cin­derel­la-themed con­fec­tion La Cener­en­to­la,  and Gluck’s 18th-cen­tu­ry mas­ter­piece, Orfeo ed Euridice with Don’t Give Up, a “mes­sage of hope in the bleak­est of moments” and a hit for Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush when Bond was a year out of college…and  Costan­zo was four.

Lis­ten to Only an Octave Apart in its entire­ty on YouTube or Spo­ti­fy.

Antho­ny Ross Costan­zo will reprise his role as the rev­o­lu­tion­ary pharaoh, Akhnat­en, at the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera lat­er this spring.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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Tennessee School Board Bans Maus, the Pulitzer-Prize Winning Graphic Novel on the Holocaust; the Book Becomes #1 Bestseller on Amazon

Last week, a Ten­nessee school board vot­ed unan­i­mous­ly to ban Maus, the Pulitzer-win­ning graph­ic nov­el about the Holo­caust, cit­ing instances of pro­fan­i­ty and nudi­ty. Specif­i­cal­ly, the McMinn Coun­ty school board object­ed to utter­ances of the words “God damn” and a small, bare­ly-per­cep­ti­ble breast. (Look close­ly, and you may even­tu­al­ly find it.) Rather uncom­fort­ably, the ban­ning came on the eve of Inter­na­tion­al Holo­caust Remem­brance Day, and it fig­ures into a larg­er right-lean­ing effort to ban books coun­try­wide.

Hap­pi­ly, bad deci­sions can have good unin­tend­ed con­se­quences. In recent days, Art Spiegel­man’s Maus has soared to #1 on Ama­zon’s best­seller list. (Anoth­er edi­tion of the book sits at #3 on the list.) Else­where, a col­lege pro­fes­sor has cre­at­ed a free online course on Maus designed sole­ly for stu­dents from McMinn Coun­ty. And with­in Ten­nessee itself, book­stores are giv­ing away free copies of Spiegel­man’s clas­sic, while a church has decid­ed to con­vene con­ver­sa­tions on the ground­break­ing book.

Above, you can watch Spiegel­man respond to the ban and won­der whether it’s “a har­bin­ger of things to come,” a step in a larg­er effort to efface the mem­o­ry of the Holo­caust.

Relat­ed Con­tent

How Art Spiegel­man Designs Com­ic Books: A Break­down of His Mas­ter­piece, Maus

Artist is Cre­at­ing a Parthenon Made of 100,000 Banned Books: A Mon­u­ment to Democ­ra­cy & Intel­lec­tu­al Free­dom

The 850 Books a Texas Law­mak­er Wants to Ban Because They Could Make Stu­dents Feel Uncom­fort­able

America’s First Banned Book: Dis­cov­er the 1637 Book That Mocked the Puri­tans

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How Pulp Fiction Uses the Socratic Method, the Philosophical Method from Ancient Greece

No soon­er did Pulp Fic­tion open in the­aters than its direc­tor, a young for­mer video-store clerk named Quentin Taran­ti­no, became the new auteur to beat. Draw­ing from a vari­ety of cin­e­mat­ic tra­di­tions both high and low, Taran­ti­no’s break­out film showed main­stream audi­ences things they’d nev­er seen before, or at least in com­bi­na­tions they’d nev­er seen before. Its dia­logue in par­tic­u­lar was often cit­ed as an exam­ple of Taran­ti­no’s sheer film­mak­ing vital­i­ty. And so it remains: recall how many times, over the past few decades, you’ve heard lines quot­ed just from the con­ver­sa­tion ear­ly in Pulp Fic­tion between John Tra­vol­ta and Samuel L. Jack­son’s black-suit­ed hit men Vin­cent Vega and Jules Win­n­field.

It’s thanks to this pas­sage of Taran­ti­no’s script that even Amer­i­cans know the name of the French equiv­a­lent of McDon­ald’s Quar­ter Pounder. But a bit lat­er, and with a bit more sub­tle­ty, it also demon­strat­ed to view­ers what’s known as the Socrat­ic method. Such is the premise, any­way, of the Prac­ti­ca­ble video at the top of the post.

Named for its first prac­ti­tion­er, the peri­patet­ic Greek of the fifth-cen­tu­ry B.C. who has since lived in on dia­logues com­posed by his stu­dent Pla­to, the Socrat­ic method has come to be regard­ed as an effec­tive means of get­ting to the truth through con­ver­sa­tion, either with oth­ers or with one­self — or rather, as an effec­tive means of get­ting away with false­hoods: false opin­ions, false con­vic­tions, false beliefs.

Socrates, says Prac­ti­ca­ble’s nar­ra­tor, “would start off ask­ing peo­ple for a def­i­n­i­tion of a term like wis­dom, courage, or jus­tice, and through repeat­ed­ly point­ing out con­tra­dic­tions in their def­i­n­i­tion, and then the con­tra­dic­tions in their adjust­ments to their orig­i­nal def­i­n­i­tion, they would even­tu­al­ly reach a state of admit­ted igno­rance.” Such a process occurs in Pulp Fic­tion when Vin­cent and Jules dis­cuss their gang­ster boss Marsel­lus Wal­lace’s recent killing of a man who dared to give his wife a foot mas­sage. “Jules believes Marsel­lus over­re­act­ed, and Vin­cent believes that Antoine Roc­camo­ra got what was com­ing to him. At this point, we see Vin­cent try to get to the root of why Jules thinks it was an over­re­ac­tion.”

Con­scious­ly or uncon­scious­ly, Vin­cent does so using the Socrat­ic method, which requires first estab­lish­ing an argu­ment, then rais­ing an excep­tion or con­tra­dic­tion, then re-for­mu­lat­ing the argu­ment, and repeat­ing those steps as truth is approached or false­hood escaped. At issue is the inher­ent­ly sex­u­al nature of foot mas­sages. By bring­ing out con­tra­dic­tions in Jules’ own beliefs about them — he gives them to his moth­er, he argues, though he also takes pride in his advanced tech­nique, which he’s nev­er applied to the feet of a man — Vin­cent “can final­ly estab­lish that Marsel­lus’ use of vio­lence was, in fact, jus­ti­fied.” The dia­logue could con­tin­ue, but Taran­ti­no leaves it there, with Jules in the state of inter­nal con­tra­dic­tion Socrates called apo­r­ia. After all, like most of Taran­ti­no’s talk­a­tive char­ac­ters, they’ve got a a job to do.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Philoso­phers Presents a Rock­ing Intro­duc­tion to Socrates, the Father of Greek Phi­los­o­phy

Allan Bloom’s Lec­tures on Socrates (Boston Col­lege, 1983)

Why Socrates Hat­ed Democ­ra­cies: An Ani­mat­ed Case for Why Self-Gov­ern­ment Requires Wis­dom & Edu­ca­tion

Socrates on TV, Cour­tesy of Alain de Bot­ton (2000)

What Makes The Death of Socrates a Great Work of Art?: A Thought-Pro­vok­ing Read­ing of David’s Philo­soph­i­cal & Polit­i­cal Paint­ing

44 Essen­tial Movies for the Stu­dent of Phi­los­o­phy

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The 850 Books a Texas Lawmaker Wants to Ban Because They Could Make Students Feel Uncomfortable

“Who’s afraid of crit­i­cal race the­o­ry?” asked lawyer, legal schol­ar and Har­vard pro­fes­sor Der­rick Bell in a 1995 essay. Bell helped pio­neer the dis­ci­pline in the 70s, and until recent­ly, it remained most­ly con­fined to aca­d­e­m­ic jour­nals, grad school sem­i­nars and the pages of pro­gres­sive mag­a­zines. Now the phrase is every­where. What hap­pened? Did rad­i­cal schol­ars force third graders to read foot­notes? Or did con­ser­v­a­tives show up fifty years late to a con­ver­sa­tion, skip the read­ing, and decide the best way to respond was to lash out indis­crim­i­nate­ly at every iden­ti­ty and civ­il rights issue that makes them uncom­fort­able, start­ing with kinder­garten and work­ing their way up? Maybe Bell’s ques­tion has answered itself.

In the recent moral pan­ic over CRT, the term has become a denun­ci­a­tion, a shib­bo­leth that can apply to any his­to­ry, civics, or lit­er­a­ture les­son broad­ly con­strued, whether taught through cur­rent events, fic­tion, poet­ry, mem­oir, non­fic­tion, or any mate­r­i­al — to use the lan­guage of the “anti-CRT” Texas House Bill 3979 — that might make a stu­dent “feel dis­com­fort, guilt, anguish, or any oth­er form of psy­cho­log­i­cal dis­tress on account of the individual’s race or sex.” Con­nec­tions to Bel­l’s crit­i­cal race the­o­ry are ten­u­ous, at best. As Allyson Waller notes at the Texas Tri­bune, that aca­d­e­m­ic dis­ci­pline “is not being taught in K‑12 schools.”

This fact means lit­tle to right wing leg­is­la­tors, school board mem­bers and par­ents’ groups, who have found a con­ve­nient boogey­man on which to project their anx­i­eties. What the Texas bill means in prac­tice has been impos­si­ble to parse. Amer­i­can Civ­il Lib­er­ties Union lawyer Emer­son Sykes filed a fed­er­al suit over a sim­i­lar law in Okla­homa, argu­ing that it’s “so vague,” as Michael Pow­ell reports at The New York Times, “that it fails to pro­vide rea­son­able legal guid­ance to teach­ers and could put jobs in dan­ger.” A Black prin­ci­pal near Dal­las has already been forced to resign in the anti-CRT pan­ic, for writ­ing a pub­lic let­ter after George Floy­d’s death that declared, “Edu­ca­tion is the key to stomp­ing out igno­rance, hate, and sys­temic racism.”

In anoth­er part of the state, a dis­trict-lev­el exec­u­tive direc­tor of cur­ricu­lum has rec­om­mend­ed teach­ing “oth­er per­spec­tives” on the Holo­caust to meet the bil­l’s man­dates. Teach­ers and admin­is­tra­tors are not the only ones tar­get­ed by the bill and its sup­port­ers. “One minute they’re talk­ing crit­i­cal race the­o­ry,” says mid­dle school librar­i­an Car­rie Damon. “Sud­den­ly I’m hear­ing librar­i­ans are indoc­tri­nat­ing stu­dents. One library in Llano Coun­ty, about 80 miles north­west of Austin, shut down for three days for a “thor­ough review” of every chil­dren’s book. At the statewide lev­el, Texas Repub­li­can State Rep­re­sen­ta­tive Matt Krause launched an anti-CRT witch-hunt, in advance of a run for State Attor­ney Gen­er­al, by email­ing a list 850 books to state super­in­ten­dents, ask­ing if any of them appeared in their libraries.

The list, writes Dani­ka Ellis at Book Riot, is “a bizarre assort­ment of titles, for­mat­ted in a way that sug­gests it’s copy-and-past­ed from library list­ings.” It includes books about human rights, sex edu­ca­tion, any and every LGBTQ top­ic, race, Amer­i­can his­to­ry, and polic­ing. Iron­i­cal­ly, it also includes books about burn­ing books and bul­ly­ing (a prob­lem caus­ing stu­dent walk­outs around the coun­try). The books range from those for young chil­dren to mid­dle and high school stu­dents and col­lege-aged young adults. Most of them “were writ­ten by women, peo­ple of col­or and LGBTQ writ­ers.” It also includes “a par­tic­u­lar­ly puz­zling choice,” writes Pow­ell (prob­a­bly a mis­take?): Cyn­i­cal The­o­ries by Helen Pluck­rose and James Lind­say, two authors who have made careers out of expos­ing what they allege are ille­git­i­mate “griev­ances” in acad­e­mia.

You can see Krause’s full list here. The state rep’s “motive was unclear,” Pow­ell writes, but it seems clear enough he wished to flag these books for pos­si­ble removal. Giv­en that crit­i­cal race the­o­ry is not, in fact, a phrase that means “any­thing that makes con­ser­v­a­tives feel guilty and/or uncom­fort­able” but is fore­most a legal the­o­ry, we might ask legal ques­tions like cui bono? – “who ben­e­fits” from ban­ning the books on Krause’s list? Who feels uncom­fort­able and guilty when they read about racist polic­ing, healthy gay rela­tion­ships, or the civ­il rights move­ment– and why? Should that dis­com­fort pro­vide just cause for cen­sor­ship and the vio­la­tion of oth­er stu­dents’ rights to qual­i­ty edu­ca­tion­al mate­r­i­al? How can the sub­jec­tive stan­dard of “com­fort” be used to eval­u­ate the edu­ca­tion­al val­ue of a book?

Debates over free inquiry in edu­ca­tion seem nev­er to end. (Con­sid­er that the first book banned in Colo­nial North Amer­i­ca mocked the Puri­tans, who them­selves loved noth­ing more than ban­ning things.) As we approach the ques­tion this time around, it seems we might have learned not to ban books under vague laws that empow­er big­ots to hunt down an amor­phous ene­my so insid­i­ous it can lurk any­where and every­where. Such laws have their own his­to­ry, too, in the U.S. and else­where. Nowhere have they led to a state of affairs most of us want, one free from vio­lence, big­otry, dis­crim­i­na­tion and state repres­sion — that is, unless we need such things to make us com­fort­able.

via Book Riot

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

America’s First Banned Book: Dis­cov­er the 1637 Book That Mocked the Puri­tans

Read 14 Great Banned & Cen­sored Nov­els Free Online: For Banned Books Week 2014

It’s Banned Books Week: Lis­ten to Allen Gins­berg Read His Famous­ly Banned Poem, “Howl,” in San Fran­cis­co, 1956

When L. Frank Baum’s Wiz­ard of Oz Series Was Banned for “Depict­ing Women in Strong Lead­er­ship Roles” (1928)

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

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What Makes Salvador Dalí’s Iconic Surrealist Painting “The Persistence of Memory” a Great Work of Art

Sal­vador Dalí paint­ed melt­ing clocks. This is not as dras­tic an over­sim­pli­fi­ca­tion as it sounds: after first paint­ing such a coun­ter­in­tu­itive image, “Dalí, who knew the impor­tance of brand­ing, would use the melt­ing clocks for his entire career.” So says no less an expert than James Payne, the gal­lerist and video essay­ist behind the Youtube chan­nel Great Art Explained. In its lat­est episode Payne takes on the unre­lent­ing­ly pro­lif­ic Dalí’s most famous can­vas of all, The Per­sis­tence of Mem­o­ry. Com­plet­ed in 1931, this work of art has by now spent about half a cen­tu­ry adorn­ing the walls of col­lege dorm rooms, among oth­er spaces inhab­it­ed by view­ers inter­est­ed in the alter­ation of their own per­cep­tive fac­ul­ties.

The Per­sis­tence of Mem­o­ry does­n’t mark Dalí’s first use of melt­ing clocks, though it’s with­out doubt his most impor­tant. Yet “despite its huge cul­tur­al impact,” says Payne, the paint­ing is “quite small, about the size of a sheet of paper.” Against the back­ground of “a huge desert land­scape with vast depths of field, reduced to a shrunk­en world” — one har­bor­ing ref­er­ences to Goya, De Chiri­co, and Bosch — it vivid­ly real­izes a moment in the process of meta­mor­pho­sis.

“A key con­cept in the Sur­re­al­ist move­ment,” meta­mor­pho­sis is here “exem­pli­fied by the para­dox of Dalí’s ren­der­ing of the hard­est and most mechan­i­cal objects, watch­es, into a soft and flac­cid form.” Like all of the artist’s best work, it thus “exploits the ambi­gu­i­ty of our per­cep­tu­al process and plays with our own fears.” But what do the melt­ing clocks mean?

That, to Dalí’s own mind, is the wrong ques­tion: “I am against any kind of mes­sage,” he declared in one of his many tele­vi­sion appear­ances. Indeed, his fre­quent appear­ances on tele­vi­sion (What’s My Line?, The Mike Wal­lace Inter­view, The Dick Cavett Show) and in oth­er media assured that, at a cer­tain point, “Dalí the artist had become a pris­on­er of Dalí the celebri­ty.” But his appear­ances in the spot­light also gave him the chance to dis­sem­i­nate the chaff of con­flict­ing expla­na­tions of his own work. Per­haps the melt­ing clocks refer to Ein­stein’s then-nov­el the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty; per­haps they sym­bol­ize impo­tence. Or it may all come down to Dalí’s obses­sion with death, which even in 1931 had long since tak­en both his moth­er and the younger broth­er of whom he believed him­self a rein­car­na­tion. In the event, Dalí could­n’t escape mor­tal­i­ty. None of us can, of course, and that, as much as any­thing else, may illu­mi­nate why The Per­sis­tence of Mem­o­ry nev­er quite pass­es into the realm of kitsch.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a Jour­ney Through 933 Paint­ings by Sal­vador Dalí & Watch His Sig­na­ture Sur­re­al­ism Emerge

Walk Inside a Sur­re­al­ist Sal­vador Dalí Paint­ing with This 360º Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Video

The Most Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Sal­vador Dalí’s Paint­ings Pub­lished in a Beau­ti­ful New Book by Taschen: Includes Nev­er-Seen-Before Works

Sal­vador Dalí Explains Why He Was a “Bad Painter” and Con­tributed “Noth­ing” to Art (1986)

Sal­vador Dalí’s Melt­ing Clocks Paint­ed on a Lat­te

Great Art Explained: Watch 15 Minute Intro­duc­tions to Great Works by Warhol, Rothko, Kahlo, Picas­so & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Hear Haruki Murakami Play Beatles Covers on His Radio Show, Murakami Radio

Now ramp­ing up to a wide release is a film that will draw in no few fans of Haru­ki Muraka­mi around the world: Dri­ve My Car, adapt­ed by film­mak­er Ryusuke Ham­aguchi from Murakami’s short sto­ry of the same name. That name itself comes, of course, from the Bea­t­les song, their knock­out open­er to Rub­ber Soul. It was­n’t the first time Muraka­mi had bor­rowed a title from the Fab Four. The nov­el that made him a house­hold name, in his home­land of Japan and sub­se­quent­ly the rest of the world, was called Nor­we­gian Wood.

The Bea­t­les’ albums have also pro­vid­ed him with inspi­ra­tion, as evi­denced by his sto­ry “With the Bea­t­les,” pub­lished in trans­la­tion last year by The New York­er. It takes place in 1965, when the Bea­t­les had become huge­ly pop­u­lar in not just the West but Japan as well. “Turn on the radio and chances were you’d hear one of their songs,” says the nar­ra­tor. “I liked their songs myself and knew all their hits,” but “truth be told, I was nev­er a fer­vent Bea­t­les fan. I nev­er active­ly sought out their songs. For me, it was pas­sive lis­ten­ing, pop music flow­ing out of the tiny speak­ers of my Pana­son­ic tran­sis­tor radio.” Despite being a high-school, then col­lege stu­dent in the 1960s, “I didn’t buy a sin­gle Bea­t­les record. I was much more into jazz and clas­si­cal music.”

This sto­ry is fic­tion­al; its nar­ra­tor is not its author. Yet Muraka­mi, who hap­pened to come of age in the same era, made sim­i­lar remarks about his expe­ri­ence with the Bea­t­les a cou­ple of years ago. His orig­i­nal­ly one-off ses­sion as a disc jock­ey on Tokyo FM has become a more or less full-fledged show, Muraka­mi Radio. Each of its broad­casts he ded­i­cates to a dif­fer­ent musi­cal theme, and it was thus only a mat­ter of time before he got around to the Bea­t­les.

Despite his ear­ly indif­fer­ence, as Muraka­mi explains between songs, he lat­er, in his thir­ties, came to sense the genius of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, dur­ing a stay in Greece with their self-titled 1968 “White Album” on tape in his Walk­man — which, despite lack­ing its title song, inspired him to start writ­ing Nor­we­gian Wood. Apart from that mem­o­ry, the late-peri­od Bea­t­les fig­ure only sec­on­dar­i­ly into Murakami’s “Bea­t­les Night.” He focus­es instead on their ear­ly, pre-Rub­ber Soul work, or rather, on a vari­ety of less­er-known cov­ers there­of.

If you lis­ten to the actu­al broad­cast on Japan­ese video-stream­ing site Nicon­i­co, you’ll also hear such addi­tion­al Bea­t­les cov­ers as “Do You Want to Know a Secret” by Motown singer Mary Wells and “She Loves You” by Rita Lee of Brazil­ian rock titans Os Mutantes. Obvi­ous­ly, the appeal of the Bea­t­les tran­scends cul­tur­al bound­aries, as does that of the exten­sive­ly trans­lat­ed Muraka­mi. What explains it? Per­haps, in both cas­es, that they cre­at­ed their own gen­res — or rather, their own won­drous real­i­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear 100 Amaz­ing Cov­er Ver­sions of Bea­t­les Songs

Haru­ki Muraka­mi Became a DJ on a Japan­ese Radio Sta­tion for One Night: Hear the Music He Played for Delight­ed Lis­ten­ers

A 96-Song Playlist of Music in Haru­ki Murakami’s Nov­els: Miles Davis, Glenn Gould, the Beach Boys & More

Stream Big Playlists of Music from Haru­ki Murakami’s Per­son­al Vinyl Col­lec­tion and His Strange Lit­er­ary Worlds

Haru­ki Muraka­mi Day: Stream Sev­en Hours of Mix­es Col­lect­ing All the Jazz, Clas­si­cal & Clas­sic Amer­i­can Pop Music from His Nov­els

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Watch John Cage’s 4′33″ Played by Musicians Around the World

Make sure to watch the video above with the sound on. In it musi­cians from around the world all play a well-known com­po­si­tion: 4′33″ by John Cage. “I spent weeks ask­ing strangers on the inter­net to send me their rad­i­cal­ly dif­fer­ent inter­pre­ta­tions, and boy did they deliv­er,” writes the video’s cre­ator Sam Vladimirsky. “My inbox filled with adap­ta­tions by an Aus­tri­an death met­al band, a marim­ba play­er, a bun­ny rab­bit, the Muse­um of Musi­cal Instru­ments in Phoenix, a mid­dle school music teacher, a ver­sion played on Gui­tar Hero and over Zoom.” Though orig­i­nal­ly com­posed for piano, 4′33″ is eas­i­ly trans­posed to all these instru­ments and oth­ers, call­ing as it does for their play­ers to do the very same thing: noth­ing.

“Inspired by Zen Bud­dhism, the Dada move­ment and Cage’s strong dis­taste for the ubiq­ui­tous muzak of the time,” says Aeon, “its score instructs per­form­ers not to play their instru­ments for the piece’s four-minute, thir­ty-three-sec­ond dura­tion.” The result is not silence but “the unique ambi­ent sound­scape of the envi­ron­ment in which it’s per­formed, reflect­ing Cage’s belief that music is ever-present.”

Here the sub­mit­ted per­for­mances take place in such envi­ron­ments as a class­room, a bed­room, a court­yard, a dri­ve­way, a bus, and a sub­way sta­tion. Vladimirsky pairs the videos, allow­ing us to enjoy not just par­al­lel view­ing expe­ri­ences but a lay­ered lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ence of these ambi­ent sound­scapes.

“Stuck inside,” writes Vladimirsky, “pro­fes­sion­al musi­cians, ded­i­cat­ed ama­teurs, awk­ward teens and col­lege stu­dents found 4′33″ to be the music of our moment.” If the Rolling Stones could play “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” in lock­down, each from his sep­a­rate home, then who’s to say this isn’t the next log­i­cal step? Each per­for­mance of 4′33″ reflects not just its imme­di­ate set­ting but its cul­tur­al peri­od: com­pare the clip just above, in which Cage him­self plays it in Har­vard Square in 1973. Most of us haven’t seen the inside of a con­cert hall in quite some time, let alone heard the ambi­ent sounds pro­duced with­in it in the absence of prop­er music. But each of us can, at least, per­form 4′33″ for our­selves when­ev­er and wher­ev­er we like — one way of doing it being sim­ply to play the video at the top of the post with the sound off.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch John Cage Play His “Silent” 4’33” in Har­vard Square, Pre­sent­ed by Nam June Paik (1973)

The Curi­ous Score for John Cage’s “Silent” Zen Com­po­si­tion 4’33”

John Cage’s Silent, Avant-Garde Piece 4’33” Gets Cov­ered by a Death Met­al Band

The 4’33” App Lets You Cre­ate Your Own Ver­sion of John Cage’s Clas­sic Work

The Grate­ful Dead’s “Rip­ple” Played By Musi­cians Around the World (with Cameos by David Cros­by, Jim­my Buf­fett & Bill Kreutz­mann)

The Vir­tu­al Choir: Watch a Choir Con­duc­tor Dig­i­tal­ly Unite 3500 Singers from Around the World

How to Find Silence in a Noisy World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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