Search Results for "college"

Nikola Tesla’s Grades from High School & University: A Fascinating Glimpse

In the his­to­ry of sci­ence, few peo­ple got a raw­er deal than Niko­la Tes­la. Cru­el­ly cheat­ed and over­shad­owed by Edi­son and Mar­coni (who patent­ed the radio tech­nol­o­gy Tes­la invent­ed), the bril­liant intro­vert didn’t stand a chance in the cut­throat busi­ness world in which his rivals moved with ease. Every biog­ra­ph­er por­trays Tes­la as Edison’s per­fect foil: the lat­ter played the con­sum­mate show­man and savvy patent hog, where Tes­la was a reclu­sive mys­tic and, as one writer put it, “the world’s sor­cer­er.”

“Unlike Tes­la,” writes biog­ra­ph­er Michael Bur­gan, “Edi­son had bare­ly gone to school: Tes­la was amazed that a man with almost no for­mal edu­ca­tion could invent so bril­liant­ly.” (He would have a dif­fer­ent opin­ion of Edi­son years lat­er.)

Tes­la began his own edu­ca­tion, as you can learn in the sur­vey of his high school and uni­ver­si­ty grades above, with much promise, but he was forced to drop out after his third year in col­lege when his father passed away and he was left with­out the means to con­tin­ue. As PBS writes, Tes­la showed pre­co­cious tal­ent ear­ly on.

Pas­sion­ate about math­e­mat­ics and sci­ences, Tes­la had his heart set on becom­ing an engi­neer but was “con­stant­ly oppressed” by his father’s insis­tence that he enter the priest­hood. At age sev­en­teen, Tes­la con­tract­ed cholera and crafti­ly exact­ed an impor­tant con­ces­sion from his father: the old­er Tes­la promised his son that if he sur­vived, he would be allowed to attend the renowned Aus­tri­an Poly­tech­nic School at Graz.

It was dur­ing his time at tech­ni­cal school that Tes­la first devised the idea of alter­nat­ing cur­rent, though he could not yet artic­u­late a work­ing design (he was told by a pro­fes­sor that the feat would be akin to build­ing a per­pet­u­al motion machine). He solved the engi­neer­ing chal­lenge after leav­ing school and going to work for the Cen­tral Tele­phone Exchange in Budapest.

While walk­ing through a city park with a friend, recit­ing Goethe’s Faust from mem­o­ry, Tes­la recounts in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, a pas­sage inspired him “like a flash of light­en­ing” and he “drew with a stick on the sand the dia­gram shown six years lat­er in my address before the Amer­i­can Insti­tute of Elec­tri­cal Engi­neers.” The sto­ry is one of many in which Tes­la, a vora­cious read­er and infi­nite­ly curi­ous auto­di­dact, draws on the exten­sive knowl­edge that he gath­ered through self-edu­ca­tion.

His patent applications—Croatian schol­ar Danko Plevnik notes in the intro­duc­tion to a series of essays on Tesla’s self-schooling—show “the eru­di­tion of a learned man, broad knowl­edge which by far sur­passed the knowl­edge he could acquire through for­mal edu­ca­tion only.” In his lec­tures, arti­cles, and speech­es, Tes­la demon­strates a “famil­iar­i­ty with phi­los­o­phy, sci­ence his­to­ry and inven­tion-relat­ed thought, method­ol­o­gy of sci­ence, as well as oth­er areas of knowl­edge that were not includ­ed in the sub­jects and cours­es he attend­ed through his school­ing.”

Not only did he mem­o­rize entire books of poet­ry, but he could accu­rate­ly fore­see the future of tech­nol­o­gy, his keen insight honed both by his stud­ies of the sci­ences and the human­i­ties. Until fair­ly recent­ly Plevnik writes, “Tesla’s edu­ca­tion was referred to spo­rad­i­cal­ly, as if it had not influ­enced his sci­en­tif­ic reflec­tion, exper­i­ment­ing and inven­tions.” That is in large part, many Tes­la schol­ars now argue, because the best edu­ca­tion Tes­la received was the one he gave him­self.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Elec­tric Rise and Fall of Niko­la Tes­la: As Told by Tech­noil­lu­sion­ist Mar­co Tem­pest

Niko­la Tes­la Accu­rate­ly Pre­dict­ed the Rise of the Inter­net & Smart Phone in 1926

Elec­tric Pho­to of Niko­la Tes­la, 1899

Albert Einstein’s Grades: A Fas­ci­nat­ing Look at His Report Cards

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

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The Case for a Universal Basic Income in the Time of COVID-19

The idea of Uni­ver­sal Basic Income (UBI) has been the sub­ject of much debate in the past few years. The can­di­da­cy of Andrew Yang for U.S. Pres­i­dent brought the issue to nation­al promi­nence, where it has remained dur­ing the spread of COVID-19. What is UBI? Put sim­ply, it pro­pos­es that the gov­ern­ment give every cit­i­zen a cer­tain amount of mon­ey each month to cov­er, at the least, basic liv­ing expens­es. As the video above by YouTube chan­nel Kurzge­sagt explains, those cit­i­zens are then free to live their lives as they like.

Unlike most wel­fare state mod­els, UBI usu­al­ly does not involve any means test­ing. In most schemes, every cit­i­zen, no mat­ter their cur­rent wealth or income, receives the ben­e­fit. (Though most stud­ies of the pro­gram have only giv­en it to poor or unem­ployed ben­e­fi­cia­ries.) Those who do not need the mon­ey can do what­ev­er they want with it, but so too can those who need it. UBI ensures that peo­ple do not have go home­less or hun­gry if they lose their liveli­hood, and that they can sur­vive with­out pater­nal­ist state agen­cies breath­ing down their necks.

UBI is not a new idea but dates back at least to Thomas Paine, whose Com­mon Sense inspired the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion and whose Rights of Man defend­ed the French a few years lat­er. As Paine argued in anoth­er, lit­tle-read, pam­phlet, Agrar­i­an Jus­tice, no one could be tru­ly free if they had no means of sub­sis­tence. Since cap­i­tal­ism had placed most of those means under pri­vate own­er­ship, he rea­soned, cit­i­zens should be com­pen­sat­ed for being deprived of resources that belonged to them by nat­ur­al right as much as to any­one else.

This philo­soph­i­cal jus­ti­fi­ca­tion doesn’t always enter into the con­ver­sa­tion, which is often framed in more prag­mat­ic terms as a polit­i­cal and eco­nom­ic expe­di­ent in times of cap­i­tal­ist cri­sis: in times, for exam­ple, like the present moment. The COVID-19 cri­sis has inten­si­fied calls for a UBI, as mil­lions of lay­offs point toward the inevitabil­i­ty of a depres­sion. Push­ing peo­ple back to work dur­ing the pan­dem­ic seems to be the only thing the U.S. gov­ern­ment plans to do, but no amount of coer­cion can stop the virus from forc­ing clo­sures all over again.

Even the famous­ly lib­er­tar­i­an econ­o­mist Mil­ton Fried­man once embraced a ver­sion of UBI—as an alter­na­tive to the lib­er­al social pro­grams he loathed. Under Richard Nixon, of all peo­ple, such a pol­i­cy almost came into being in 1969. Nei­ther Fried­man nor Nixon believed in the nat­ur­al right of all cit­i­zens to a share in the prof­its of a state’s nat­ur­al resources. But they could see the wis­dom of ensur­ing mil­lions of U.S. cit­i­zens weren’t rel­e­gat­ed to liv­ing in des­ti­tu­tion.

The pro­gram required test­ing, so the admin­is­tra­tion set up a tri­al run. “Tens of mil­lions of dol­lars were bud­get­ed to pro­vide a basic income for more than 8,500 Amer­i­cans” in five states across the coun­try, writes Rut­ger Breg­man at The Cor­re­spon­dent. Researchers want­ed to know: 1. if those who received a basic income would work sig­nif­i­cant­ly less, 2. if the pro­gram would be too expen­sive, and 3. if it would prove “polit­i­cal­ly unfea­si­ble.” The find­ings? “No, no, and maybe.”

The chief objec­tion, idle­ness, held no water. As the chief data ana­lyst for the Den­ver exper­i­ment put it at the time, “The ‘lazi­ness’ con­tention is just not sup­port­ed by our find­ings.” The two groups who did cut back on hours, 20-some­things and moth­ers of young chil­dren, were peo­ple who most need­ed the mon­ey so they could go to col­lege or devote time to their kids. Oth­er­wise, recip­i­ents did not quit their jobs and lay around watch­ing TV.

Yet there remains a pow­er­ful species of human busy­body who can­not rest until they’re sure everyone’s work­ing. Such peo­ple con­tin­ue to object—whether in good faith or not—that “just giv­ing peo­ple mon­ey” will turn every­one into a slack­er, as though most peo­ple were only moti­vat­ed by the threat of star­va­tion. And so, tri­als con­tin­ue decades lat­er. Researchers at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Helsin­ki recent­ly con­duct­ed a two-year study in Fin­land with a ran­dom selec­tion of 2,000 unem­ployed peo­ple across the coun­try. Each par­tic­i­pant was giv­en €560 (about $607) a month to ease their bur­den, and received the funds whether or not they sought or found a job.

“The scheme was not strict­ly speak­ing a uni­ver­sal basic income tri­al because the recip­i­ents came from a restrict­ed group and the pay­ments were not enough to live on,” points out Guardian cor­re­spon­dent Jon Hen­ley. Nonethe­less, the researchers found that recip­i­ents were sig­nif­i­cant­ly less stressed than a con­trol group—and that they could make dif­fer­ent choic­es than they might oth­er­wise. “Some said the basic income allowed them to go back to the life they had before they became unem­ployed,” the study authors write. “While oth­ers said it gave them the pow­er to say no to low-paid inse­cure jobs, and thus increased their sense of auton­o­my.”

Oth­er find­ings also showed how UBI could rad­i­cal­ize our rela­tion­ship to work. “Free­lancers and artists and entre­pre­neurs had more pos­i­tive views on the effects of the basic income, which some felt had cre­at­ed oppor­tu­ni­ties for them to start busi­ness­es.” Peo­ple pro­vid­ing unpaid care for oth­ers felt their time was more val­ued. “The secu­ri­ty of the basic income allowed them to do more mean­ing­ful things, as they felt it legit­imized this kind of care work.” The find­ings are being tak­en seri­ous­ly by many Euro­pean gov­ern­ments.

In Spain, Scot­land, and else­where, lead­ers are propos­ing or con­sid­er­ing some form of UBI to com­bat mas­sive unem­ploy­ment due to the pan­dem­ic. While the idea may have lit­tle polit­i­cal future in the U.S. at the moment, where pri­or­i­ties are to use the country’s wealth to fur­ther enrich the wealthy, UBI is becom­ing tremen­dous­ly pop­u­lar else­where. (A recent poll found sup­port among 71% of Euro­peans sur­veyed.) No one believes UBI is a panacea for the world’s ills, but as the Wired video above argues, there may be no bet­ter time than now to make the case for it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Alan Watts’s 1960s Pre­dic­tion That Automa­tion Will Neces­si­tate a Uni­ver­sal Basic Income

Buck­min­ster Fuller Rails Against the “Non­sense of Earn­ing a Liv­ing”: Why Work Use­less Jobs When Tech­nol­o­gy & Automa­tion Can Let Us Live More Mean­ing­ful Lives

To Save Civ­i­liza­tion, the Rich Need to Pay Their Tax­es: His­to­ri­an Rut­ger Breg­man Speaks Truth to Pow­er at Davos and to Fox’s Tuck­er Carl­son

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

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Take a Virtual Tour of the Mütter Museum and Its Many Anatomically Peculiar Exhibits

A few months before Philaelphia’s Müt­ter Muse­um, exer­cis­ing now famil­iar COVID-19 pre­cau­tions, closed its doors to the pub­lic, it co-spon­sored a parade to hon­or the vic­tims to the pre­vi­ous century’s Span­ish Flu pan­dem­ic, as well as “those who keep us safe today.”

The event was part of a tem­po­rary exhi­bi­tion, Spit Spreads Death: The Influen­za Pan­dem­ic of 1918–19 in Philadel­phia.

Anoth­er tem­po­rary exhi­bi­tion, Going Viral: Infec­tion Through the Ages, opened in Novem­ber, and now seems even stronger proof that the muse­um, whose 19th-cen­tu­ry dis­play cab­i­nets are housed in the his­toric Col­lege of Physi­cians, is as con­cerned with the future as it is with the past.

For now, all tours must be under­tak­en vir­tu­al­ly.

Above, cura­tor Anna Dhody, a phys­i­cal and foren­sic anthro­pol­o­gist and Direc­tor of the Müt­ter Research Insti­tute, gives a brief intro­duc­tion to some of the best known arti­facts in the per­ma­nent col­lec­tion.

The muse­um’s many antique skulls and med­ical odd­i­ties may invite com­par­isons to a ghoul­ish sideshow attrac­tion, an impres­sion Dhody cor­rects with her warm, mat­ter-of-fact deliv­ery and respect­ful acknowl­edg­ment of the humans whose sto­ries have been pre­served along with their remains:

Mary Ash­ber­ry, an achon­droplas­tic dwarf, died from com­pli­ca­tions of a Cesare­an sec­tion, as doc­tors who had yet to learn the impor­tance of ster­il­iz­ing instru­ments and wash­ing hands, attempt­ed to help her deliv­er a baby who proved too big for her pelvis. (The baby’s head was crushed as well. Its skull is dis­played next to its mother’s skele­ton.)

Madame Dimanche is rep­re­sent­ed by a wax mod­el of her face, instant­ly rec­og­niz­able due to the 10-inch cuta­neous horn that began grow­ing from her fore­head when she was in her 70s. (It was even­tu­al­ly removed in an ear­ly exam­ple of suc­cess­ful plas­tic surgery.)

Albert Ein­stein and the con­joined twins Chang and Eng Bunker are among the house­hold names grac­ing the museum’s col­lec­tion.

One of the most recent addi­tions is the skele­ton of artist and dis­abil­i­ty aware­ness advo­cate Car­ol Orzel, who edu­cat­ed the pub­lic and incom­ing Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia med­ical stu­dents about fibrodys­pla­sia ossi­f­i­cans pro­gres­si­va (FOP), a rare dis­or­der that turned her mus­cle and con­nec­tive tis­sue to bone. She told her physi­cian, Fred­er­ick Kaplan, below, that she want­ed her skele­ton to go to the Müt­ter, to join that of fel­low FOP suf­fer­er, Har­ry East­lack… pro­vid­ed some of her prized cos­tume jew­el­ry could be dis­played along­side. It is.

Get bet­ter acquaint­ed with the Müt­ter Museum’s col­lec­tion through this playlist.

The exhib­it Spit Spreads Death is cur­rent­ly slat­ed to stay up through 2024. While wait­ing to vis­it in per­son, you can watch an ani­ma­tion of the Span­ish flu’s spread, and explore an inter­ac­tive map show­ing the demo­graph­ics of the infec­tion.

h/t Tanya Elder

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of 30 World-Class Muse­ums & Safe­ly Vis­it 2 Mil­lion Works of Fine Art

Take a Long Vir­tu­al Tour of the Lou­vre in Three High-Def­i­n­i­tion Videos

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of The Uffizi Gallery in Flo­rence, the World-Famous Col­lec­tion of Renais­sance Art

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Here lat­est project is a series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic and wear them prop­er­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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500+ Beautiful Manuscripts from the Islamic World Now Digitized & Free to Download

Math­e­mat­ics, astron­o­my, his­to­ry, law, lit­er­a­ture, archi­tec­ture: in these fields and oth­ers, the Mus­lim world came up with major inno­va­tions before any oth­er civ­i­liza­tion did. This Islam­ic cul­tur­al and intel­lec­tu­al flow­er­ing last­ed from the 11th through the 19th cen­tu­ry, and many of the texts the peri­od left as its lega­cy have gone most­ly unre­searched. So say the cre­ators of Man­u­scripts of the Mus­lim World, a project of Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty, the Free Library of Philadel­phia, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia, Bryn Mawr Col­lege, and Haver­ford Col­lege aimed at cre­at­ing an online archive of “more than 500 man­u­scripts and 827 paint­ings from the Islam­i­cate world broad­ly con­strued.”

As UPenn Libraries Senior Cura­tor of Spe­cial Col­lec­tions Mitch Fraas tells Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Sarah Rose Sharp, “The aim of this project was to find and dig­i­tize all the Islam­i­cate man­u­scripts in Philadel­phia col­lec­tions and along the way we part­nered with Colum­bia on a grant to take a mul­ti-city approach.”

To the sources of its man­u­scripts it also takes a mul­ti-cul­ture approach, includ­ing “texts relat­ed to Chris­tian­i­ty (Cop­tic and Syr­i­ac mss. galore), Hin­duism (epics trans­lat­ed into Per­sian in Mughal India), sci­ence, tech­nol­o­gy, music, etc. but which were pro­duced in the his­toric Mus­lim world.” There are also texts, he adds, “in Per­sian, Ara­bic, and Turk­ish of course but also in Cop­tic, Tamazight, Aves­tan, etc.”

If you can read those lan­guages, Man­u­scripts of the Mus­lim World obvi­ous­ly amounts to a gold mine. (You may also find some­thing of inter­est in the dig­i­tal archives of 700 years of Per­sian man­u­scripts and 10,000 books in Ara­bic we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.) But even if you don’t, you’ll find in the col­lec­tion mar­vels of book design that will appeal to any­one with an appre­ci­a­tion of the lush aes­thet­ics, both abstract and fig­u­ra­tive, of these places and these times. Some of them aren’t even as old as they may seem: take the man­u­script at the top of the post, “over­paint­ed in the 20th cen­tu­ry to mim­ic Mughal style.” Or the one below that, whose colophon “says the copy was com­plet­ed in 1121 A.H. (1709 or 1710 CE),” which “does not make sense giv­en the author like­ly lived in the 19th cen­tu­ry.”

The oth­er pages here come from a set of “illus­tra­tions from Qur’ānic sto­ries” (this one depict­ing “Abra­ham sac­ri­fic­ing his son”) and a “Per­sian cal­lig­ra­phy and illus­tra­tion album.” You’ll find much more in Man­u­scripts of the Mus­lim World, host­ed on OPENN, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­ni­a’s online repos­i­to­ry of “high-res­o­lu­tion archival images of man­u­scripts” accom­pa­nied by “machine-read­able TEI P5 descrip­tions and tech­ni­cal meta­da­ta,” all released into the pub­lic domain or under Cre­ative Com­mons licens­es. Though each man­u­scrip­t’s entry comes with basic notes, the col­lec­tion is, in the main, not yet a thor­ough­ly stud­ied one. If you have an inter­est in the Islam­ic world at its peak of cul­tur­al and intel­lec­tu­al influ­ence so far, you may just find your next big research sub­ject here — or at the very least, mate­r­i­al for a few hours’ admi­ra­tion. Enter the col­lec­tion.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Com­plex Geom­e­try of Islam­ic Art & Design: A Short Intro­duc­tion

How Ara­bic Trans­la­tors Helped Pre­serve Greek Phi­los­o­phy … and the Clas­si­cal Tra­di­tion

Learn Islam­ic & Indi­an Phi­los­o­phy with 107 Episodes of the His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps Pod­cast

700 Years of Per­sian Man­u­scripts Now Dig­i­tized and Avail­able Online

Down­load 10,000+ Books in Ara­bic, All Com­plete­ly Free, Dig­i­tized and Put Online

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

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Benedict Cumberbatch, Margaret Atwood, Stephen Fry & Others Read Letters of Hope, Love & Support During COVID-19

Though the coro­n­avirus pan­dem­ic has put a stop to many for­mer­ly nor­mal activ­i­ties around the world, it’s hard­ly put a stop to glob­al com­mu­ni­ca­tion. In fact, it’s almost cer­tain­ly inten­si­fied glob­al com­mu­ni­ca­tion, what with all the atten­tion the strug­gle against COVID-19 com­mands from 24-hour media pro­fes­sion­als — and all the time and ener­gy the rest of us have put into social media as a sub­sti­tute for social­iza­tion. But how would we have com­mu­ni­cat­ed amid a pan­dem­ic of this kind in an age before the inter­net? Assum­ing postal ser­vices remained in good work­ing order, we would, of course, have writ­ten let­ters to each oth­er.

We can still write let­ters to each oth­er in the 21st cen­tu­ry, but now we can also read them to each oth­er, wher­ev­er in the world we may be. This is the basis for the #ReadALet­ter cam­paign, which actor Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch intro­duces in the video at the top of the post. “I real­ly hope this let­ter finds you in good spir­its as we nav­i­gate our way through this tru­ly sur­re­al cri­sis, where upheaval and uncer­tain­ty are dai­ly real­i­ties,” he says, read­ing aloud a mis­sive com­posed at his home and meant for the world at large.

“But so, thank­ful­ly, is the total­ly inspir­ing self-sac­ri­fice, togeth­er­ness, courage, gen­eros­i­ty, and cama­raderie the peo­ple are exhibit­ing.” It is those hon­or­able qual­i­ties, Cum­ber­batch con­tin­ues, that “we at Let­ters Live are look­ing for a way to cel­e­brate through our favorite medi­um of the let­ter.”

You may remem­ber Let­ters Live, a series of events inspired by Let­ters of Note, from when we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured Cum­ber­batch’s appear­ances there inter­pret­ing cor­re­spon­dence by the likes of Kurt Von­negut, Albert Camus, and Alan Tur­ing. The stars of Let­ters Live have hereto­fore been his­tor­i­cal­ly impor­tant let­ter-writ­ers and the skilled pro­fes­sion­al per­form­ers who read their words. But now, Cum­ber­batch says, “we want to hear you read let­ters. They can be let­ters to the heroes on the front line. They could be let­ters to rel­a­tives in need. They could be let­ters to strangers who have stepped up and made a dif­fer­ence. They could be let­ters to neigh­bor­ing fam­i­lies or streets or towns or coun­tries.” To par­tic­i­pate, you need only use a cam­era phone to record your­self read­ing a let­ter aloud, then post that video on Twit­ter or Insta­gram and send it to re**@*********ve.com.

What you read on cam­era (or off it, if you pre­fer) could be “an impor­tant let­ter you have always want­ed to send, or a cher­ished let­ter you once received. It could be a favorite let­ter of yours that offers hope in our cur­rent cri­sis or a pre­scient warn­ing too impor­tant to be ignored.” Here we’ve includ­ed the #ReadALet­ter videos so far con­tributed by oth­er nota­bles includ­ing Mar­garet Atwood, Stephen Fry, and Grif­fin Dunne, who reads a let­ter his father Dominick Dunne wrote when he put him­self into iso­la­tion for cre­ative pur­pos­es in 1980. Oth­er par­tic­i­pants from all walks of life include a rab­bi, a col­lege stu­dent, an emer­gency depart­ment doc­tor, and even a cou­ple of nona­ge­nar­i­ans. If you need more inspi­ra­tion to #ReadALet­ter your­self, revis­it Cum­ber­batch’s Let­ters of Live per­for­mance of Sol Lewit­t’s 1965 let­ter to Eva Hesse, the one in which he deliv­ers invalu­able words of advice: “Stop It and Just DO.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Kurt Vonnegut’s Incensed Let­ter to the High School That Burned Slaugh­ter­house-Five

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Albert Camus’ Touch­ing Thank You Let­ter to His Ele­men­tary School Teacher

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads a Let­ter Alan Tur­ing Wrote in “Dis­tress” Before His Con­vic­tion For “Gross Inde­cen­cy”

“Stop It and Just DO”: Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Advice on Over­com­ing Cre­ative Blocks, Writ­ten by Sol LeWitt to Eva Hesse (1965)

An Ani­mat­ed Mar­garet Atwood Explains How Sto­ries Change with Tech­nol­o­gy

Stephen Fry Reads Oscar Wilde’s Children’s Sto­ry “The Hap­py Prince”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

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Vintage Book & Record Covers Brought to Life in a Mesmerizing Animated Video

The state of vir­tu­al and aug­ment­ed real­i­ty tech­nol­o­gy has reached the thresh­old of a time in which VR meet­ings will be the norm. Apart from oth­er appli­ca­tions, this may soon allow con­sumers to stroll through vir­tu­al aisles rather than click­ing box­es on a screen, pick­ing up prod­ucts and view­ing them from every angle. Still, design­ers rec­og­nize that an essence of the human expe­ri­ence is lost with­out the sense of touch. There may even be a future in which we wear clothes with hap­tic feed­back sys­tems embed­ded in them, to feel the pages of a vir­tu­al book beneath our fin­gers…

Yet our slow tran­si­tion from the phys­i­cal to the vir­tu­al world leaves out intan­gi­bles. Some­thing is lost from both. Big box stores still devote sig­nif­i­cant floor space to books and records, for exam­ple. But I sub­mit that a glossi­ness pre­vails in print design, per­haps a con­se­quence of com­pet­ing with screens. There’s a wabi-sabi qual­i­ty to brows­ing a used book­store or record shop in per­son, thumb­ing through an old col­lec­tion of vin­tage paper­backs and LPs, that can­not be sim­u­lat­ed or enhanced in any way. On the inter­net, how­ev­er, where video is king, it can be made the sub­ject of some hyp­not­ic video art.

As the sen­si­ble major­i­ty of us are hope­ful­ly stay­ing put for the long haul (if we can), we may find our­selves curi­ous­ly edi­fied by the video art of Hen­ning M. Led­er­er. We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured Lederer’s ani­ma­tions of mid-cen­tu­ry min­i­mal­ist book cov­ers and vin­tage psy­chol­o­gy and phi­los­o­phy books. He turns the abstract geo­met­ric pat­terns beloved by book and record com­pa­ny design­ers of the lat­ter half of the 20th cen­tu­ry into mov­ing images that hint at how prop­er cov­er design can set the imag­i­na­tion whirring (even if it’s a cov­er design for Basic Account­ing).

If Lederer’s mes­mer­iz­ing videos sim­u­late any­thing, it’s the expe­ri­ence of wan­der­ing into a used book­store next to a lib­er­al arts college—full of pro­fes­sors’ fas­ci­nat­ing­ly out­dat­ed hand-me-downs—after hav­ing ingest­ed a small quan­ti­ty of LSD. Maybe you’ll have a slight­ly dif­fer­ent asso­ci­a­tion. But the point is that Lederer’s art sug­gests a sce­nario rather than attempt­ing to recre­ate one. His stud­ies of mod­ernist cov­er designs also recall Mar­cel Duchamp’s Rotore­liefs, con­cep­tu­al art pieces intend­ed for pop­u­lar use as opti­cal illu­sions.

Duchamp’s spin­ning disks became fea­tures of ear­ly Sur­re­al­ist cin­e­ma, icon­ic sym­bols of dreams on film. There is a mys­te­ri­ous opac­i­ty to his phys­i­cal objects onscreen, just as Lederer’s book and record cov­ers seem to have a weight of their own, a use of dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy to high­light the strange unique­ness of phys­i­cal objects, rather than their end­less repro­ducibil­i­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

36 Abstract Cov­ers of Vin­tage Psy­chol­o­gy, Phi­los­o­phy & Sci­ence Books Come to Life in a Mes­mer­iz­ing Ani­ma­tion

157 Ani­mat­ed Min­i­mal­ist Mid-Cen­tu­ry Book Cov­ers

Watch Mar­cel Duchamp’s Hyp­not­ic Rotore­liefs: Spin­ning Discs Cre­at­ing Opti­cal Illu­sions on a Turntable (1935)

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

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Mark Knopfler Plays a Poignant, Overdriven Version of “The Last Post,” Remembering the Many Lives Lost in World War I

World War I sym­bol­ism gets lost on Amer­i­cans. Our his­tor­i­cal mem­o­ries are short and selec­tive, and the War has “large­ly van­ished from view,” as his­to­ri­an Geof­frey Wawro writes at Time mag­a­zine. But in Europe, of course, where some armies suf­fered ten times the casu­al­ties as U.S. troops, and where mil­lions of civil­ian died and towns were bombed into obliv­ion, the mem­o­ry of the Great War is very much alive.

In Ypres, Bel­gium, the War has been memo­ri­al­ized every day since 1928 (with the excep­tion of four years of Ger­man occu­pa­tion dur­ing WWII) by the Last Post Asso­ci­a­tion, a devot­ed com­pa­ny of buglers who play the mil­i­tary song at the Menin Gate memo­r­i­al every evening to com­mem­o­rate the British dead at the Bat­tle of Ypres. As of this writ­ing, they’ve held their 31,748th cer­e­mo­ny.

In Britain itself, and around the world, the tune has a long his­to­ry as a sym­bol, like the pop­py, of Remem­brance Day. Just like Taps in the U.S., the Last Post is “a bugle call,” writes the Last Post Asso­ci­a­tion, “played in the British Army (and in the armies of many oth­er lands) to mark the end of the day’s labours and the onset of the night’s rest…. It has come to rep­re­sent a final farewell to the fall­en at the end of their earth­ly labours and at the onset of their eter­nal rest.”

Robert Graves summed up the song’s asso­ci­a­tion with death in his 1918 poem, “The Last Post”:

The bugler sent a call of high romance—
“Lights out! Lights out!” to the desert­ed square.
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer,
“God, if it’s this for me next time in France…
O spare the phan­tom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with the oth­er bro­ken ones
Lying so stiff and still under the sky,
Jol­ly young Fusiliers too good to die.”

I imag­ine Mark Knopfler, a lover of poet­ry, might be famil­iar with Graves’ verse. In his own ren­di­tion of the Last Post, above, Knopfler com­mem­o­rates 17,000 Northum­ber­land Fusiliers killed in the War, who came from his home region and suf­fered more casu­al­ties than any oth­er reg­i­ment. Record­ed on Remem­brance Day, Novem­ber 8, 2018, the 100th anniver­sary of the War’s end, Knopfler’s ver­sion is both restrained and fierce­ly over­driv­en, recall­ing Hendrix’s “Star-Span­gled Ban­ner” in some of its flashier moments of vibra­to. Rather than one of his usu­al icon­ic gui­tars, he plays a cus­tom instru­ment that howls like a keen­ing bugle.

The record­ing was part of a project in which musi­cians around the world played the cer­e­mo­ni­al call on a vari­ety of instru­ments. For com­par­i­son with Knopfler’s cre­ative inter­pre­ta­tion, see a straight­for­ward ren­di­tion played above by a mem­ber of the Aus­tralian Roy­al Mil­i­tary Col­lege Band. The bugle call reminds us of the war dead we may have for­got­ten, and the mil­lions killed by star­va­tion and influen­za after the armistice. And per­haps it also reminds us of the impor­tance of col­lec­tive mourn­ing for the dead in our own extra­or­di­nary his­tor­i­cal moment.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gui­tar Sto­ries: Mark Knopfler on the Six Gui­tars That Shaped His Career

Mark Knopfler Gives a Short Mas­ter­class on His Favorite Gui­tars & Gui­tar Sounds

The Great War: Video Series Will Doc­u­ment How WWI Unfold­ed, Week-by-Week, for the Next 4 Years

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

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Louis Armstrong Remembers How He Survived the 1918 Flu Epidemic in New Orleans

Born into pover­ty in New Orleans in 1901, and grow­ing up dur­ing some of the most bru­tal years of seg­re­ga­tion in the South, Louis Arm­strong first lived with his grand­moth­er, next in a “Col­ored Waif’s Home” after drop­ping out of school at age 11, then with his moth­er and sis­ter in a home so small they had to sleep in the same bed. After already liv­ing through the first World War, he would go on to wit­ness the Span­ish Flu epi­dem­ic, the Great Depres­sion, World War II, the Cold War, and the tur­bu­lent 1960s and the Viet­nam con­flict.

That’s a lot for one life­time, though for much of it, Arm­strong was a star and liv­ing leg­end who beat the odds and rose above his ori­gins with will and tal­ent. Even so, he suf­fered some severe ups and downs dur­ing the hard times, tour­ing so much to cov­er his debts in the lean 1930s, for exam­ple, that he injured his lips and fin­gers, and final­ly mov­ing to Europe when the mob came after him.

Armstrong’s descrip­tions of his expe­ri­ence of the 1918 influen­za pandemic—as he remem­bers it in his 1954 mem­oir Satch­mo: My Life in New Orleans—are almost jaun­ty, as you can part­ly see in the type­script page above from the Louis Arm­strong House. But he remem­bered it from the per­spec­tive of a 17-year-old musi­cian in robust health—who seemed to have some kind of resis­tance to the flu.

He devotes no more than two para­graphs to the flu, which hit the city hard in Octo­ber of that year. Accord­ing to the Influen­za Ency­clo­pe­dia, an online project doc­u­ment­ing the flu in the U.S. between 1918–1919, New Orleans city author­i­ties “act­ed imme­di­ate­ly,” once they dis­cov­ered the out­break, arrived by car­go ship the month before.

On Octo­ber 9th, the New Orleans Super­in­ten­dent of Health, “with May­or Mar­tine Behrman’s con­sent and the bless­ing of state author­i­ties… ordered closed all schools (pub­lic, pri­vate, and parochial, as well as com­mer­cial col­leges), church­es, the­aters, movie hous­es, and oth­er places of amuse­ment, and [pro­hib­it­ed] pub­lic gath­er­ings such as sport­ing events and pub­lic funer­als and wed­dings.”

For a strug­gling young musi­cian mak­ing a liv­ing play­ing clubs and river­boats, the clo­sure of “oth­er places of amuse­ment” took a seri­ous toll. The loss of liveli­hood is what seems to have hurt Arm­strong the most when he returned to the city from tour­ing, still unsure if the Great War would end.

When I came back from Houma things were much tougher. The Kaiser’s mon­key busi­ness was get­ting worse, and, what is more, a seri­ous flu epi­dem­ic had hit New Orleans. Every­body was down with it, except me. That was because I was physic-mind­ed. I nev­er missed a week with­out a physic, and that kept all kinds of sick­ness out of me.

What­ev­er “physic” helped Armstrong’s avoid infec­tion, it wasn’t for lack of expo­sure. In lieu of play­ing the trum­pet he began car­ing for the sick, since all of the hos­pi­tals, even those that would take black patients, were com­plete­ly over­crowd­ed.

Just when the gov­ern­ment was about to let crowds of peo­ple con­gre­gate again so that we could play our horns once more the lid was clamped down tighter than ever. That forced me to take any odd jobs I could get. With every­body suf­fer­ing from the flu, I had to work and play the doc­tor to every­one in my fam­i­ly as well as all my friends in the neigh­bor­hood. If I do say so, I did a good job cur­ing them.

We might imag­ine some of those “odd jobs” were what we now call “essential”—i.e. low paid and high risk under the cir­cum­stances. He per­se­vered and final­ly got a gig play­ing a “honky-tonk” that avoid­ed a shut-down because it was “third rate,” and he “could play a lot of blues for cheap pros­ti­tutes and hus­tlers.” Few things could get Satch­mo down, it seemed, not even a flu pan­dem­ic, but he was one of the lucky ones—luckily for the future of jazz. Only, we don’t have to imag­ine how hard this must have been for him. We just have to take a look around.

Learn more about the 1918 influen­za epi­dem­ic in the U.S. at the Influen­za Ency­clo­pe­dia and read the rest of Armstrong’s account of his for­ma­tive years at the Inter­net Archive.

via Ted Gioia

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Only Known Footage of Louis Arm­strong in a Record­ing Stu­dio: Watch the Recent­ly-Dis­cov­ered Film (1959)

Louis Arm­strong Plays His­toric Cold War Con­certs in East Berlin & Budapest (1965)

What Hap­pened to U.S. Cities That Practiced–and Didn’t Practice–Social Dis­tanc­ing Dur­ing 1918’s “Span­ish Flu”

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

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Coursera Makes Courses & Certificates Free During Coronavirus Quarantine: Take Courses in Psychology, Music, Wellness, Professional Development & More Online

Over the past decade or two, devel­op­ments in the tech­nol­o­gy of the World Wide Web have made learn­ing at home pos­si­ble in a way it was­n’t before. Over the past month or two, learn­ing at home has gone from option to neces­si­ty, pre­vent­ed as many of us are from going out to a class­room by the coro­n­avirus pan­dem­ic. If you’ve tak­en cours­es on the inter­net before — and espe­cial­ly if you’ve picked them from our selec­tion of 1,500 you can take for free — you’ve no doubt heard of Cours­era, one of the major online learn­ing plat­forms. Now through May 31st, a peri­od dur­ing which the num­ber of poten­tial stu­dents will sure­ly remain high, Cours­era has made more of its class­es free for the tak­ing.

“To help our com­mu­ni­ty dur­ing this crit­i­cal time, we’re launch­ing new, free resources, as well as sur­fac­ing inter­est­ing course col­lec­tions, com­mu­ni­ty dis­cus­sions, and expert inter­views,” says the offi­cial Cours­era blog. “While many cours­es on Cours­era are already avail­able for free with­out a cer­tifi­cate, this pro­mo­tion enables you to not only access lec­tures and quizzes, but also to earn a free cer­tifi­cate for cours­es that offer them.” The blog high­lights these col­lec­tions of cours­es, describ­ing them as fol­lows:

The post also includes the fol­low­ing instruc­tions for how to redeem a free course:

  1. First, click the link to vis­it a pro­mo­tion page.
  2. From the pro­mo­tion page, click to vis­it a spe­cif­ic course and wait for the page to ful­ly load. Once loaded, you will see a pro­mo­tion ban­ner at the top of the page. If you don’t see the ban­ner, please refresh the page.
  3. Next, click the “Enroll for free” but­ton.
  4. Select “Pur­chase Course.” Note that with the pro­mo­tion applied, there will be a mes­sage in paren­the­ses that says “Your pro­mo­tion will auto­mat­i­cal­ly be applied at check­out.”
  5. At check­out, your pur­chase total will read “$0.”
  6. Com­plete check out and start learn­ing!

Among Cours­er­a’s cur­rent free offer­ings you’ll find a host of cours­es includ­ing “Get­ting Start­ed with Music The­o­ry” from Michi­gan State Uni­ver­si­ty, “Social Psy­chol­o­gy” from Wes­leyan Uni­ver­si­ty, and “Cloud Com­put­ing Basics” from Learn­Quest. You’re as like­ly to come across sub­ject areas into which you’ve long been mean­ing to get deep­er as prac­ti­cal edu­ca­tion per­ti­nent to the times we now live in. Take “Sit Less, Get Active” from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Edin­burgh, or “Sci­ence Mat­ters: Let’s Talk About COVID-19” from Impe­r­i­al Col­lege Lon­don, a virus-relat­ed course of the kind we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture. The Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia, San Diego’s “Con­vert­ing Chal­lenges into Oppor­tu­ni­ties” is also not with­out its rel­e­vance, to the future as well as the present. After all, the coro­n­avirus will hard­ly be the last chal­lenge in which we’ll need to find our own oppor­tu­ni­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Watch “Coro­n­avirus Out­break: What You Need to Know,” and the 24-Lec­ture Course “An Intro­duc­tion to Infec­tious Dis­eases,” Both Free from The Great Cours­es

Free Cours­es on the Coro­n­avirus: What You Need to Know About the Emerg­ing Pan­dem­ic

Dyson Cre­ates 44 Free Engi­neer­ing & Sci­ence Chal­lenges for Kids Quar­an­tined Dur­ing COVID-19

Use Your Time in Iso­la­tion to Learn Every­thing You’ve Always Want­ed To: Free Online Cours­es, Audio Books, eBooks, Movies, Col­or­ing Books & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

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Ingenious Improvised Recreations of Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, Using Materials Found Around the House

One can only tol­er­ate so many edu­ca­tion­al videos in self-iso­la­tion before the brain begins to rebel.

Hands-on learn­ing. That’s what we’re crav­ing.

And ulti­mate­ly, that’s what the Get­ty pro­vides with an addic­tive chal­lenge to cap­tive audi­ences on Twit­terFace­book, and Insta­gram to re-cre­ate icon­ic art­works using three house­hold objects.

Par­tic­i­pants are encour­aged to look at the Get­ty’s down­load­able, dig­i­tized col­lec­tion and beyond for a piece that speaks to them, pos­si­bly because of their abil­i­ty to match it by dint of hair col­or, physique or  per­fect prop.)

Cer­tain works quick­ly emerged as favorites, with Johannes Ver­meer’s Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring (c. 1665) the clear front run­ner.

The Mau­rit­shuis, where Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring is quar­an­tined, along with oth­er Hague-dwellers such as Rem­brandt’s The Anato­my Les­son of Dr Nico­laes Tulp and Fab­ri­tius’ The Goldfinch, describes it thus­ly:

Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring is Vermeer’s most famous paint­ing. It is not a por­trait, but a ‘tron­ie’ – a paint­ing of an imag­i­nary fig­ure. Tron­ies depict a cer­tain type or char­ac­ter; in this case a girl in exot­ic dress, wear­ing an ori­en­tal tur­ban and an improb­a­bly large pearl in her ear.

Johannes Ver­meer was the mas­ter of light. This is shown here in the soft­ness of the girl’s face and the glim­mers of light on her moist lips. And of course, the shin­ing pearl.

Let’s have a look, shall we?

 

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Ver­meer’s extra­or­di­nary appli­ca­tion of light and shad­ow is a tall order for most ama­teurs, but it’s won­der­ful to see how much care­ful con­sid­er­a­tion has been giv­en to the orig­i­nal sub­jec­t’s expres­sion, the cant of her head, the arrange­ment of her gar­ments.

It seems the best way to study a work of art is to become that work of art… espe­cial­ly when one is trapped at home, seek­ing dis­trac­tion, and forced to impro­vise with avail­able objects.

Let us pray we’ll be set loose long before Hal­loween, but also that the chal­lenge tak­ers won’t for­get how inge­nious, eas­i­ly sourced, and cost-effec­tive their cos­tumes were: a pil­low­case, a but­ton, an invert­ed par­ty dress, the hem of a sib­ling’s blue t‑shirt, res­cued from the rag bag still smelling faint­ly of vine­gar from pre-coro­n­avirus house­hold clean­ing.

That off-the-rack “sexy cat” won’t stand a chance.

 

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No one’s dis­qual­i­fied if the num­ber of items used in ser­vice of these recre­ations exceeds the orig­i­nal­ly stiu­plat­ed 3. As long as the par­tic­i­pants are hav­ing (edu­ca­tion­al!) fun, this is one of those chal­lenges where every­body wins… espe­cial­ly the baby, the dog, the guy with the mus­tache and the lady with the turkey on her head, even though the baby and the guy with the mus­tache for­got their ear­rings.

 

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Some tips for par­tic­i­pants accom­pa­ny a hand­ful of mem­o­rable entries on the Get­ty’s behind-the-scenes blog, The Iris. We’ve got links to a num­ber of world class muse­ums’ and libraries’ dig­i­tal col­lec­tions here  and can’t wait to see what you come up with.

Mean­while, enjoy even more recre­ations by search­ing for #get­ty­chal­lenge or hav­ing a look at the Insta­gram of Tussen Kun­st & Quar­an­taine, whose attempt to con­jure Girl With A Pearl Ear­ring using a place­mat, a tow­el and a gar­lic bulb, launched the project that prompt­ed the Get­ty and the Rijksmu­se­um to fol­low suit.

Extra points if you accept the #neck­ruf­fchal­lenge inspired by our his­to­ry-lov­ing artist friend, Tyler Gun­ther’s take on the #get­ty­chal­lenge, below.

 

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load All 36 of Jan Vermeer’s Beau­ti­ful­ly Rare Paint­ings (Most in Bril­liant High Res­o­lu­tion)

See the Com­plete Works of Ver­meer in Aug­ment­ed Real­i­ty: Google Makes Them Avail­able on Your Smart­phone

Flash­mob Recre­ates Rembrandt’s “The Night Watch” in a Dutch Shop­ping Mall

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  She has been crowd­sourc­ing art in iso­la­tion, most recent­ly a hasti­ly assem­bled trib­ute to the clas­sic 60s social line dance, The Madi­son. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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