Search Results for "college"

Discover the Paintings, Drawings & Collages of Sylvia Plath: Now on Display at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery

Sylvia Plath was a study in con­trasts. Her pop­u­lar­iza­tion as a con­fes­sion­al poet, fem­i­nist lit­er­ary icon, and trag­ic casu­al­ty of major depres­sion; her mid­dle-class Boston back­ground and tor­tured mar­riage to poet Ted Hugh­es—these are the high­lights of her biog­ra­phy, and, in many cas­es, all many peo­ple get to know about her. But “she was much more than that,” Dorothy Moss tells Men­tal Floss. As Vanes­sa Willough­by puts it in a stun­ning essay about her own encoun­ters with Plath’s work, “this woman was not the sum of a gas oven and two sleep­ing chil­dren nes­tled in their beds.”

Moss, a cura­tor at the Smith­son­ian Nation­al Por­trait Gallery has orga­nized an exhib­it fea­tur­ing many more sides of the poet­’s divid­ed, yet pur­pose­ful self, includ­ing her work as a visu­al artist. Read­ers of Plath’s poet­ry may not be sur­prised to learn she first intend­ed to become an artist. Her visu­al sense is so keen that ful­ly-formed images seem to leap out of poems like “Black­ber­ry­ing,” and into the reader’s hands; like the “high green mead­ows” she describes, her lines are “lit from with­in” by a deep appre­ci­a­tion for col­or, tex­ture, and per­spec­tive.

Black­ber­ries / Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes / Ebon in the hedges, fat / With blue-red juices. These they squan­der on my fin­gers.

The black­ber­ries come alive not only in their per­son­i­fi­ca­tion but through the kind of vivid lan­guage that could only come from some­one with a painter­ly way of look­ing at things. Plath “drew and paint­ed and sketched con­stant­ly as a child,” says Moss, and first enrolled at Smith Col­lege as an art major.

The exhi­bi­tion, the Nation­al Por­trait Gallery writes, “reveals how Plath shaped her iden­ti­ty visu­al­ly as she came of age as a writer in the 1950s.” Unsur­pris­ing­ly, her most fre­quent sub­ject is her­self. Her visu­al art, like her poet­ry, notes Men­tal Floss, “is often pre­oc­cu­pied with themes of self-iden­ti­ty.” But as in her elo­quent­ly-writ­ten let­ters and jour­nals, as well as her pub­lished lit­er­ary work, she is nev­er one self, but many—and not all of them vari­a­tions on the sly, yet brood­ing intel­lec­tu­al we see star­ing out at us from the well-known pho­tographs.

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured some of Plath’s draw­ings and self-por­traits here, but the Smith­son­ian exhib­it offers a con­sid­er­ably rich­er selec­tion than has been avail­able online. The ink and gouache por­trait at the top, for exam­ple, seems to draw from Marc Cha­gall in its mate­ri­als and swirling lines and col­ors. It also recalls lan­guage in a diary entry from 1953:

Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not for­get it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poi­son behind it, like the death angel. It is what I was this fall, and what I nev­er want to be again.

The hands thrown up in defense or sur­ren­der, the black life­less eyes… Plath emerges from the ring of dead trees behind her like a suf­fer­ing saint. Anoth­er por­trait, fur­ther up also resem­bles a mask, call­ing to mind the ancient ori­gins of the word per­sona. But the style has total­ly changed, the tumult of brush­strokes smoothed out into clean geo­met­ric lines and uni­form patch­es of col­or. Three masks com­bine into one face, a trin­i­ty of Plaths. The poet always had a sense of her­self as divid­ed, refer­ring to two dis­tinct per­son­al­i­ties as her “brown-haired” and “plat­inum” selves. The brown-haired young girl made sev­er­al charm­ing sketch­es of her fam­i­ly, with humor­ous com­men­tary. (Her trou­bling father is telling­ly, per­haps, absent.)

Hers was an epit­o­me of stan­dard-issue 50s white, mid­dle class Amer­i­can child­hood, the kind of sup­pos­ed­ly idyl­lic upbring­ing which no small num­ber of peo­ple still remem­ber today in a glow­ing, nos­tal­gic haze. In Plath’s exca­va­tions of the iden­ti­ties that she cul­ti­vat­ed her­self and those she had pushed upon her, she gazed with rad­i­cal inten­si­ty at America’s patri­ar­chal social fic­tions, and the vio­lence and enti­tle­ment that lay beneath them. The col­lage above from 1960 presents us with the kind of lay­ered, cut-up, hybrid text that William Bur­roughs had begun exper­i­ment­ing with not long before. You can see more high­lights from the Plath exhib­it, “One Life: Sylvia Plath,” at the Nation­al Por­trait Gallery. Also fea­tured are Plath’s fam­i­ly pho­tos, books, let­ters, her typewriter—and, in gen­er­al, sev­er­al more dimen­sions of her life than most of us know.

“One Life: Sylvia Plath” runs from June 30, 2017 through May 20, 2018.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Art of Sylvia Plath: Revis­it Her Sketch­es, Self-Por­traits, Draw­ings & Illus­trat­ed Let­ters

Hear Sylvia Plath Read 15 Poems From Her Final Col­lec­tion, Ariel, in 1962 Record­ing

Sylvia Plath’s 10 Back to School Com­mand­ments (1953)

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

Read More...

What’s a Scientifically-Proven Way to Improve Your Ability to Learn? Get Out and Exercise

Wiki­me­dia Com­mons Image by the U.S. Navy

The ben­e­fit, nay neces­si­ty, of phys­i­cal exer­cise is unde­ni­able. The med­ical com­mu­ni­ty has iden­ti­fied seden­tary lifestyles as an epi­dem­ic, some­times called “sit­ting dis­ease” (or as peo­ple like to say, “sit­ting is the new smok­ing”). Pro­longed sit­ting has been estab­lished as a cause of all sorts of chron­ic ill­ness­es includ­ing heart dis­ease, dia­betes, and even cer­tain can­cers. Com­bine this prob­lem with the steady stream of processed foods in more and more diets and we have a full-blown pub­lic health cri­sis on our hands that requires some seri­ous inter­ven­tion on the part of doc­tors, dieti­cians, phys­i­cal ther­a­pists, and sci­en­tists.

And as more and more researchers are find­ing out, a poor diet and lack of exer­cise can also have seri­ous­ly harm­ful effects on the brain. Con­verse­ly, as a recent Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia study shows, exer­cise boosts brain func­tion; it “enhances learn­ing and mem­o­ry, improves exec­u­tive func­tion” and “coun­ter­acts… men­tal decline.” To put the the­o­ry of enhanced learn­ing to the test, researchers have con­duct­ed sev­er­al exper­i­ments and found that phys­i­cal activ­i­ty can improve the abil­i­ty to learn new things at near­ly any age.

Stud­ies have “found cor­re­la­tions between children’s aer­o­bic fit­ness and their brain struc­ture,” reports The New York Times, and kids who exer­cise before math and read­ing tests show con­sis­tent­ly high­er scores than their seden­tary peers. Like­wise, a study con­duct­ed with col­lege stu­dents in Ire­land found that par­tic­i­pants per­formed sig­nif­i­cant­ly bet­ter on mem­o­ry tests after 30 min­utes of cycling. One like­ly expla­na­tion is that exer­cise increas­es the pro­duc­tion of BDNF (Brain-Derived Neu­rotrop­ic Fac­tor), a pro­tein that pro­motes nerve health. And in a new paper pub­lished by researchers from Italy, Chi­na, and Thai­land, we find that that exer­cise can specif­i­cal­ly improve the abil­i­ty to learn new lan­guages.

The study test­ed 40 col­lege-age Chi­nese stu­dents who are learn­ing Eng­lish. One group remained seden­tary, while anoth­er rode exer­cise bikes at a mod­er­ate pace both before and dur­ing study ses­sions. The stu­dents who biked per­formed bet­ter on 8 sep­a­rate vocab­u­lary tests and were bet­ter able to rec­og­nize cor­rect Eng­lish sen­tences. These results are sim­i­lar to those of a recent Ger­man study which found that a group of young women rid­ing exer­cise bikes, at slow and mod­er­ate paces, per­formed much bet­ter on vocab­u­lary tests than anoth­er group who didn’t exer­cise.

Though The New York Times points to a dif­fer­ent study with con­trast­ing results, the evi­dence seems large­ly on the side of exer­cise-enhances-learn­ing pro­po­nents. “In recent years,” the Times notes, “a wealth of stud­ies in both ani­mals and peo­ple have shown that we learn dif­fer­ent­ly if we also exer­cise.” You’ll find many of those stud­ies sum­ma­rized at the BBC, The Guardian, and else­where, along with sev­er­al pos­si­ble expla­na­tions for the phe­nom­e­non. Psy­chol­o­gist Justin Rhodes notes that “aer­o­bic exer­cise can actu­al­ly reverse hip­pocam­pal shrink­age,” increas­ing gray mat­ter in an area of the brain asso­ci­at­ed with mem­o­ry and emo­tion. His con­tention is backed by recent research on mice and humans.

In any case, although it appears that more vig­or­ous exer­cis­es like cycling and run­ning cre­ate the most improve­ment, tak­ing a brisk walk before a class or study ses­sion can also help with reten­tion and alert­ness. What­ev­er kind of exer­cise one does, a sim­ple “take-home mes­sage,” says one researcher, “may be that instruc­tion should be flanked by phys­i­cal activ­i­ty. Sit­ting for hours and hours with­out mov­ing is not the best way to learn.” Hav­ing trou­ble get­ting moti­vat­ed to run or bike before you study for that math test or start a new lan­guage course? Take some advice from Har­vard Med­ical School on how to start slow­ly, find some­thing you like doing, and turn every­day activ­i­ties into exer­cise.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why Sit­ting Is The New Smok­ing: An Ani­mat­ed Expla­na­tion

This Is Your Brain on Exer­cise: Why Phys­i­cal Exer­cise (Not Men­tal Games) Might Be the Best Way to Keep Your Mind Sharp

Hear Aer­o­bic Exer­cise: When Sovi­et Musi­cians Record­ed Elec­tron­ic Music for a Sub­ver­sive Home Fit­ness Record (1984)

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

Read More...

Noam Chomsky Explains the Best Way for Ordinary People to Make Change in the World, Even When It Seems Daunting

The threat of wide­spread vio­lence and unrest descends upon the coun­try, thanks again to a col­lec­tion of actors vicious­ly opposed to civ­il rights, and in many cas­es, to the very exis­tence of peo­ple who are dif­fer­ent from them. They have been giv­en aid and com­fort by very pow­er­ful enablers. Vet­er­an activists swing into action. Young peo­ple on col­lege cam­pus­es turn out by the hun­dreds week after week. But for many ordi­nary peo­ple with jobs, kids, mort­gages, etc. the cost of par­tic­i­pat­ing in con­stant protests and civ­il actions may seem too great to bear. Yet, giv­en many awful exam­ples in recent his­to­ry, the cost of inac­tion may be also.

What can be done? Not all of us are Rosa Parks or Howard Zinn or Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. or Thich Nat Hanh or Cesar Chavez or Dolores Huer­ta, after all. Few of us are rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies and few may wish to be. Not every­one is brave enough or tal­ent­ed enough or knowl­edge­able enough or com­mit­ted enough or, what­ev­er.

The prob­lem with this kind of think­ing is a prob­lem with so much think­ing about pol­i­tics. We look to leaders—men and women we think of as supe­ri­or beings—to do every­thing for us. This can mean del­e­gat­ing all the work of democ­ra­cy to some­times very flawed indi­vid­u­als. It can also mean we fun­da­men­tal­ly mis­un­der­stand how demo­c­ra­t­ic move­ments work.

In the video above, Noam Chom­sky address­es the ques­tion of what ordi­nary peo­ple can do in the face of seem­ing­ly insur­mount­able injus­tice. (The clip comes from the 1992 doc­u­men­tary Man­u­fac­tur­ing Con­sent.) “The way things change,” he says, “is because lots of peo­ple are work­ing all the time, and they’re work­ing in their com­mu­ni­ties or their work­place or wher­ev­er they hap­pen to be, and they’re build­ing up the basis for pop­u­lar move­ments.”

In the his­to­ry books, there’s a cou­ple of lead­ers, you know, George Wash­ing­ton or Mar­tin Luther King, or what­ev­er, and I don’t want to say that those peo­ple are unim­por­tant. Mar­tin Luther King was cer­tain­ly impor­tant, but he was not the Civ­il Rights Move­ment. Mar­tin Luther King can appear in the his­to­ry books ‘cause lots of peo­ple whose names you will nev­er know, and whose names are all for­got­ten and who may have been killed and so on were work­ing down in the South.

King him­self often said as much. For exam­ple, in the Pref­ace of his Stride Toward Free­dom he wrote—referring to the 50,000 most­ly ordi­nary, anony­mous peo­ple who made the Mont­gomery Bus Boy­cott happen—“While the nature of this account caus­es me to make fre­quent use of the pro­noun ‘I,’ in every impor­tant part of the sto­ry it should be ‘we.’ This is not a dra­ma with only one actor.”

As for pub­lic intel­lec­tu­als like him­self engaged in polit­i­cal strug­gle, Chom­sky says, “peo­ple like me can appear, and we can appear to be promi­nent… only because some­body else is doing the work.” He defines his own work as “help­ing peo­ple devel­op cours­es of intel­lec­tu­al self-defense” against pro­pa­gan­da and mis­in­for­ma­tion. For King, the issue came down to love in action. Respond­ing in a 1963 inter­view above to a crit­i­cal ques­tion about his meth­ods, he coun­ters the sug­ges­tion that non­vi­o­lence means sit­ting on the side­lines.

I think of love as some­thing strong and that orga­nizes itself into pow­er­ful, direct action…. We are not engaged in a strug­gle that means we sit down and do noth­ing. There’s a great deal of dif­fer­ence between non­re­sis­tance to evil and non­vi­o­lent resis­tance. Non­re­sis­tance leaves you in a state of stag­nant pas­siv­i­ty and dead­en­ing com­pla­cen­cy, where­as non­vi­o­lent resis­tance means that you do resist in a very strong and deter­mined man­ner.

Both Chom­sky, King, and every oth­er voice for jus­tice and human rights would agree that the peo­ple need to act instead of rely­ing on move­ment lead­ers. What­ev­er actions one can take—whether it’s engag­ing in informed debate with fam­i­ly, friends, or cowork­ers, writ­ing let­ters, mak­ing dona­tions to activists and orga­ni­za­tions, doc­u­ment­ing injus­tice, or tak­ing to the streets in protest or acts of civ­il disobedience—makes a dif­fer­ence. These are the small indi­vid­ual actions that, when prac­ticed dili­gent­ly and coor­di­nat­ed togeth­er in the thou­sands, make every pow­er­ful social move­ment pos­si­ble.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky & Har­ry Bela­fonte Speak on Stage for the First Time Togeth­er: Talk Trump, Klan & Hav­ing a Rebel­lious Heart

Noam Chom­sky Defines What It Means to Be a Tru­ly Edu­cat­ed Per­son

Read Mar­tin Luther King and The Mont­gomery Sto­ry: The Influ­en­tial 1957 Civ­il Rights Com­ic Book

‘Tired of Giv­ing In’: The Arrest Report, Mug Shot and Fin­ger­prints of Rosa Parks (Decem­ber 1, 1955)

Howard Zinn’s “What the Class­room Didn’t Teach Me About the Amer­i­can Empire”: An Illus­trat­ed Video Nar­rat­ed by Vig­go Mortensen

Hen­ry David Thore­au on When Civ­il Dis­obe­di­ence and Resis­tance Are Jus­ti­fied (1849)

Saul Alinsky’s 13 Tried-and-True Rules for Cre­at­ing Mean­ing­ful Social Change

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

Read More...

When J.M. Coetzee Secretly Programmed Computers to Write Poetry in the 1960s

Before J.M. Coet­zee became per­haps the most acclaimed nov­el­ist alive, he worked as a pro­gramer. That may not sound par­tic­u­lar­ly notable these days, but bear in mind that the Nobel lau­re­ate and two-time Book­er-win­ning author of Wait­ing for the Bar­bar­ians, Dis­grace, and Eliz­a­beth Costel­lo held that day job first at IBM in the ear­ly 1960s — back, in oth­er words, when nobody had a com­put­er on their desk. And back when IBM was IBM: that mighty Amer­i­can cor­po­ra­tion had brought the kind of com­put­ing pow­er it alone could com­mand to branch offices in cities around the world, includ­ing Lon­don, where Coet­zee land­ed after leav­ing his native South Africa after grad­u­at­ing from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cape Town.

The years Coet­zee spent “writ­ing machine code for com­put­ers,” he once wrote in a let­ter to Paul Auster, saw him “get­ting so deeply sucked into the process that I some­times felt I was descend­ing into a mad­ness in which the brain is tak­en over by mechan­i­cal log­ic.” This must have caused some dis­tress to a lit­er­ar­i­ly mind­ed young man who heard his true call­ing only from poet­ry.

“I was very heav­i­ly under the influ­ence, in my teens and ear­ly twen­ties, of, first, T.S. Eliot, but then, more sub­stan­tial­ly, Ezra Pound, and lat­er of Ger­man poet­ry, of Rilke in par­tic­u­lar,” he says to Peter Sacks in the inter­view above, remem­ber­ing the years before he put poet­ry aside as a craft in favor of the nov­el.

“Under the shad­ow­less glare of the neon light­ing, he feels his very soul to be under attack,“Coetzee writes, in the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal nov­el Youth, of the pro­tag­o­nist’s time as a pro­gram­mer. “The build­ing, a fea­ture­less block of con­crete and glass, seems to give off a gas, odour­less, colour­less, that finds its way into his blood and numbs him. IBM, he can swear, is killing him, turn­ing him into a zom­bie.” Only in the evening can he “leave his desk, wan­der around, relax. The machine room down­stairs, dom­i­nat­ed by the huge mem­o­ry cab­i­nets of the 7090, is more often than not emp­ty; he can run pro­grams on the lit­tle 1401 com­put­er, even, sur­rep­ti­tious­ly, play games on it.”

He could also use these clunky, punch­card-oper­at­ed com­put­ers to write poet­ry. “In the mid 1960s Coet­zee was work­ing on one of the most advanced pro­gram­ming projects in Britain,” writes King’s Col­lege Lon­don researcher Rebec­ca Roach. “Dur­ing the day he helped to design the Atlas 2 super­com­put­er des­tined for the Unit­ed Kingdom’s Atom­ic Ener­gy Research Estab­lish­ment at Alder­mas­ton. At night he used this huge­ly pow­er­ful machine of the Cold War to write sim­ple ‘com­put­er poet­ry,’ that is, he wrote pro­grams for a com­put­er that used an algo­rithm to select words from a set vocab­u­lary and cre­ate repet­i­tive lines.”

These lines, as seen here in one page of the print-outs held at the Coet­zee archive at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Texas at Austin’s Har­ry Ran­som Cen­ter, include “INCHOATE SHARD IMAGINE THE OUBLIETTE,” “FRENETIC AMBIENCE DISHEARTEN THE ROSE,” “PASSIONATE PABULUM CARPET THE MIRROR,” and “FRENETIC TETANUS DEADEN THE DOCUMENT.” Though he nev­er pub­lished these results, writes Roach, he “edit­ed and includ­ed phras­es from them in poet­ry that he did pub­lish.” Is this a curi­ous chap­ter in the ear­ly life of a promi­nent man of let­ters, or was this realm of “flat metal­lic sur­faces” an ide­al forge for the sen­si­bil­i­ties of a writer now known, as John Lan­ches­ter so apt­ly put it, for his “unusu­al qual­i­ty of pas­sion­ate cold­ness” — a kind of bril­liant aus­ter­i­ty that hard­ly dead­ens any of his doc­u­ments.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

J.M. Coet­zee on the Plea­sures of Writ­ing: Total Engage­ment, Hard Thought & Pro­duc­tive­ness

Read and Hear Famous Writ­ers (and Arm­chair Sports­men) J.M. Coet­zee and Paul Auster’s Cor­re­spon­dence

New Jorge Luis Borges-Inspired Project Will Test Whether Robots Can Appre­ci­ate Poet­ry

Japan­ese Com­put­er Artist Makes “Dig­i­tal Mon­dri­ans” in 1964: When Giant Main­frame Com­put­ers Were First Used to Cre­ate Art

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, 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.

Read More...

James Franco Hosts Philosophy Time, a New Videos Series Created to Help Philosophy Reach a Wider Audience

How do you get ordi­nary peo­ple inter­est­ed in phi­los­o­phy? If we are to believe the accounts of Pla­to, this wasn’t so dif­fi­cult in ancient Athens. One sim­ply lounged around the Acrop­o­lis harass­ing passers­by, a tac­tic sure to fail in most city cen­ters, town squares, and strip malls today. Pod­casts and YouTube videos grab their share of eyes and ears, though many in their audi­ences also sing in the choir. For­mer Python John Cleese has done his part to pop­u­lar­ize philo­soph­i­cal think­ing. As some­one who has moved between the worlds of acad­e­mia and pop­u­lar cul­ture, Cleese has both cred­i­bil­i­ty and vis­i­bil­i­ty on his side. Some younger audi­ences (I write with apolo­gies to Cleese) may be inclined to tune him out.

How about anoth­er actor with both fame and high­er ed cred? Some­one “very appeal­ing to a younger demo­graph­ic”? Some­one like… James Franco—currently a doc­tor­al stu­dent at Yale, and for­mer­ly a lec­tur­er and/or student/graduate of UCLA, Colum­bia, NYU, Brook­lyn Col­lege, War­ren Wil­son Col­lege, and the Rhode Island School of Design? This might seem like the resume either of an aca­d­e­m­ic dilet­tante, or of a life­long stu­dent and lover of knowl­edge.

Giv­en Franco’s com­mit­ment to teach­ing, writ­ing, and devel­op­ing and star­ring in lit­er­ary films like As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, The Bro­ken Tow­er, and Howl, we might give him the ben­e­fit of the doubt. Not everyone’s a fan, but he does bring a good deal of aca­d­e­m­ic enthu­si­asm to the role of phi­los­o­phy pop­u­lar­iz­er.

Fran­co also brings along an actu­al philoso­pher, Eliot Michael­son, of King’s Col­lege, a for­mer teacher of his. He pro­posed the idea of their project, “Phi­los­o­phy Time,” while the two were at UCLA togeth­er, Michael­son as a grad stu­dent and Fran­co as an under­grad fin­ish­ing his Eng­lish degree after tak­ing a hia­tus from col­lege to become a star. “We had some­how end­ed up becom­ing friends,” writes Michael­son, “In part, prob­a­bly because I had no idea who he was.” Their long-ges­tat­ing idea—an attempt to widen philosophy’s audience—has final­ly come to fruition. In the short episodes here, you can see the two in con­ver­sa­tion with Rut­gers University’s Andy Egan, at the top (on beau­ty), Princeton’s Liz Har­mon, fur­ther up (on the fraught top­ic of abor­tion), and Rut­gers’ Liz Camp, above and below (on imag­i­na­tion and metaphor).

Michael­son is a mod­er­at­ing influ­ence. Franco’s laid back pre­sen­ta­tion will remind you of his per­for­mances in ston­er com­e­dy Pineap­ple Express, the 83rd Acad­e­my Awards cer­e­mo­ny, and the 2008 High Times Ston­er of the Year event (though he swears he doesn’t touch the stuff any­more). Squig­gly, ani­mat­ed word and thought bub­bles add anoth­er com­ic touch. But whether or not view­ers are charmed by his per­sona, they’ll find that he lets his guests do most of the talk­ing, and they each make it plain that phi­los­o­phy can be fas­ci­nat­ing and immi­nent­ly rel­e­vant to our ordi­nary mod­ern lives. The kinds of ques­tions Socrates nee­dled hap­less Athe­ni­ans with—about beau­ty, ethics, and language—are just as press­ing now as they were 2400 years ago.

You can find the emerg­ing trove of “Phi­los­o­phy Time” videos on YouTube here.

via Leit­er Reports

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Cleese Touts the Val­ue of Phi­los­o­phy in 22 Pub­lic Ser­vice Announce­ments for the Amer­i­can Philo­soph­i­cal Asso­ci­a­tion

James Fran­co Reads a Dream­i­ly Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Allen Ginsberg’s Epic Poem ‘Howl’

James Fran­co Reads 6 Short Poems from His New Col­lec­tion

140+ Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

The Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life: A Phi­los­o­phy Pod­cast

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps Pod­cast, Now at 239 Episodes, Expands into East­ern Phi­los­o­phy

Dis­cov­er the Cre­ative, New Phi­los­o­phy Pod­cast Hi-Phi Nation: The First Sto­ry-Dri­ven Show About Phi­los­o­phy

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

Read More...

The Strange Story of Wonder Woman’s Creator William Moulton Marston: Polyamorous Feminist, Psychologist & Inventor of the Lie Detector

Most young male fans from my gen­er­a­tion failed to appre­ci­ate the gen­der imbal­ance in com­ic books. After all, what were the X‑Men with­out pow­er­ful X‑women Storm, Rogue, and, maybe the most pow­er­ful mutant of all, Jean Grey? Indie comics like Love and Rock­ets revolved around strong female char­ac­ters, and if the lega­cy gold­en age Mar­vel and DC titles were near­ly all about Great Men, well… just look at the time they came from. We shrugged it off, and also failed to appre­ci­ate how the hyper­sex­u­al­iza­tion of women in comics made many of the women around us uncom­fort­able and hyper­an­noyed.

Had we been curi­ous enough to look, how­ev­er, we would have found that gold­en age comics weren’t just inno­cent “prod­ucts of their time”—they reflect­ed a col­lec­tive will, just as did the comics of our time. And the char­ac­ter who first chal­lenged gold­en age atti­tudes about women—Wonder Woman, cre­at­ed in 1941—began her career as per­haps one of the kinki­est super­heroes in main­stream com­ic books. What’s more, she was cre­at­ed by a psy­chol­o­gist William Moul­ton Marston, who first pub­lished under a pseu­do­nym, due in part to his uncon­ven­tion­al per­son­al life. Marston, writes NPR, “had a wife—and a mis­tress. He fathered chil­dren with both of them, and they all secret­ly lived togeth­er in Rye, N.Y.”

The oth­er woman in Marston’s polyamorous three­some, one of his for­mer stu­dents, hap­pened to be the niece of Mar­garet Sanger, and Marston just hap­pened to be the cre­ator of the lie detec­tor. The details of his life are as odd and pruri­ent now as they were to read­ers in the 1940s—partly an index of how lit­tle some things have changed. And now that Marston’s cre­ation has final­ly received her block­buster due, his sto­ry seems ripe for the Hol­ly­wood telling. Such it has received, it appears, in Pro­fes­sor Marston & the Won­der Women, the upcom­ing biopic by Angela Robin­son. It’s unfair to judge a film by its trail­er, but in the clips above we see much more of Marston’s dual romance than we do of the inven­tion of his famous hero­ine.

Yet as polit­i­cal his­to­ri­an Jill Lep­ore tells it, the cul­tur­al his­to­ry of Won­der Woman is as fas­ci­nat­ing as her creator’s per­son­al life, though it may be impos­si­ble to ful­ly sep­a­rate the two. A press release accom­pa­ny­ing Won­der Woman’s debut explained that Marston aimed “to set up a stan­dard among chil­dren and young peo­ple of strong, free, coura­geous wom­an­hood; to com­bat the idea that women are infe­ri­or to men, and to inspire girls to self-con­fi­dence in ath­let­ics, occu­pa­tions and pro­fes­sions monop­o­lized by men.” It went on to express Marston’s view that “the only hope for civ­i­liza­tion is the greater free­dom, devel­op­ment and equal­i­ty of women in all fields of human activ­i­ty.”

The lan­guage sounds like that of many a mod­ern-day NGO, not a World War II-era pop­u­lar enter­tain­ment. But Marston would go fur­ther, say­ing, “Frankly, Won­der Woman is the psy­cho­log­i­cal pro­pa­gan­da for the new type of woman who should, I believe, rule the world.” His inter­est in dom­i­neer­ing women and S&M drove the ear­ly sto­ries, which are full of bondage imagery. “There are a lot of peo­ple who get very upset at what Marston was doing…,” Lep­ore told Ter­ry Gross on Fresh Air. “’Is this a fem­i­nist project that’s sup­posed to help girls decide to go to col­lege and have careers, or is this just like soft porn?’” As Marston under­stood it, the lat­ter ques­tion could be asked of most comics.

When writer Olive Richard—pen name of Marston’s mis­tress Olive Byrne—asked him in an inter­view for Fam­i­ly Cir­cle whether some comics weren’t “full of tor­ture, kid­nap­ping, sadism, and oth­er cru­el busi­ness,” he replied, “Unfor­tu­nate­ly, that is true.” But “the reader’s wish is to save the girl, not to see her suf­fer.” Marston cre­at­ed a “girl”—or rather a super­hu­man Ama­zon­ian princess—who saved her­self and oth­ers. “One of the things that’s a defin­ing ele­ment of Won­der Woman,” says Lep­ore, “is that if a man binds her in chains, she los­es all of her Ama­zon­ian strength. So in almost every episode of the ear­ly comics, the ones that Marston wrote… she’s chained up or she’s roped up.” She has to break free, he would say, “in order to sig­ni­fy her eman­ci­pa­tion from men.” She does her share of rop­ing oth­ers up as well, with her las­so of truth and oth­er means.

The seem­ing­ly clear bondage ref­er­ences in all those ropes and chains also had clear polit­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance, Lep­ore explains. Dur­ing the fight for suf­frage, women would chain them­selves to gov­ern­ment build­ings. In parades, suf­frag­ists “would march in chains—they import­ed that iconog­ra­phy from the abo­li­tion­ist cam­paigns of the 19th cen­tu­ry that women had been involved in… Chains became a real­ly impor­tant sym­bol,” as in the 1912 draw­ing below by Lou Rogers. Won­der Woman’s mytho­log­i­cal ori­gins also had deep­er sig­ni­fi­ca­tion than the male fan­ta­sy of a pow­er­ful race of well-armed dom­i­na­tri­ces. Her sto­ry, writes Lep­ore at The New York­er, “comes straight out of fem­i­nist utopi­an fic­tion” and the fas­ci­na­tion many fem­i­nists had with anthro­pol­o­gists’ spec­u­la­tion about an Ama­zon­ian matri­archy.

The com­bi­na­tion of fem­i­nist sym­bols have made the char­ac­ter a redoubtable icon for every gen­er­a­tion of activists—as in her appear­ance on 1972 cov­er of Ms. mag­a­zine, fur­ther up, an issue head­lined by Glo­ria Steinem and Simone de Beau­voir. Marston trans­lat­ed the fem­i­nist ideas of the suf­frage move­ment, and of women like Mar­garet Sanger, Eliz­a­beth Cady Stan­ton, his wife, lawyer Eliz­a­beth Hol­loway Marston, and his mis­tress Olive Byrne, into a pow­er­ful, long-revered super­hero. He also trans­lat­ed his own ideas of what Have­lock Ellis called “the erot­ic rights of women.”

Marston’s ver­sion of Won­der Woman (he stopped writ­ing the com­ic in 1947) had as much agency—sexual and otherwise—as any male char­ac­ter of the time. (See her break­ing the bonds of “Prej­u­dice,” “Prud­ery,” and “Man’s Supe­ri­or­i­ty” in a draw­ing, below, from Marston’s 1943 arti­cle “Why 100,000 Amer­i­cans Read Comics.”) The char­ac­ter was undoubt­ed­ly kinky, a qual­i­ty that large­ly dis­ap­peared from lat­er iter­a­tions. But she was not cre­at­ed, as were so many women in comics in the fol­low­ing decades, as an object of teenage lust, but as a rad­i­cal­ly lib­er­at­ed fem­i­nist hero. Read more about Marston in Lepore’s essays at Smith­son­ian and The New York­er and in her book, The Secret His­to­ry of Won­der Woman.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Over 22,000 Gold­en & Sil­ver Age Com­ic Books from the Com­ic Book Plus Archive

Free Com­ic Books Turns Kids Onto Physics: Start With the Adven­tures of Niko­la Tes­la

Take a Free Online Course on Mak­ing Com­ic Books, Com­pli­ments of the Cal­i­for­nia Col­lege of the Arts

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

Read More...

Hunter S. Thompson Chillingly Predicts the Future, Telling Studs Terkel About the Coming Revenge of the Economically & Technologically “Obsolete” (1967)

Image  via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Half a cen­tu­ry ago, Hunter S. Thomp­son got his big jour­nal­is­tic break with a book called Hel­l’s Angels: The Strange and Ter­ri­ble Saga of the Out­law Motor­cy­cle Gangs. In it he pro­vid­ed a curi­ous and fear­ful pub­lic with a look into the inner work­ings of one of the most out­ward­ly men­ac­ing social move­ments of the day, based on knowl­edge gained not by mere­ly observ­ing the Hel­l’s Angels but by get­ting on a hog and spend­ing a year as a qua­si-mem­ber him­self. This gave him oppor­tu­ni­ty both to devel­op what would become his style of “gonzo jour­nal­ism” in the long form and to catch an ear­ly glimpse of big­ger trou­ble ahead in Amer­i­ca.

“To see the Hell’s Angels as care­tak­ers of the old ‘indi­vid­u­al­ist’ tra­di­tion ‘that made this coun­try great’ is only a pain­less way to get around see­ing them for what they real­ly are,” Thomp­son writes in that book, call­ing them “the first wave of a future that noth­ing in our his­to­ry has pre­pared us to cope with. The Angels are pro­to­types. Their lack of edu­ca­tion has not only ren­dered them com­plete­ly use­less in a high­ly tech­ni­cal econ­o­my, but it has also giv­en them the leisure to cul­ti­vate a pow­er­ful resent­ment… and to trans­late it into a destruc­tive cult which the mass media insists on por­tray­ing as a sort of iso­lat­ed odd­i­ty” des­tined for extinc­tion.

Studs Terkel, after read­ing that pas­sage out loud in a 1967 inter­view with Thomp­son (stream it online here), calls it “the key” to the entire book. “Here we have tech­nol­o­gy, we have the com­put­er, we have labor-sav­ing devices,” he says to Thomp­son, but we also “have the need for more and more col­lege edu­ca­tion for almost any kind of job, and we have this tremen­dous mass of young who find them­selves obso­lete.” But Thomp­son replies that the real con­se­quences have only start­ed to man­i­fest: “The peo­ple who are being left out and put behind won’t be obvi­ous for years. Christ only knows what’ll hap­pen in, say, 1985 — a mil­lion Hel­l’s Angels. They won’t be wear­ing the col­ors; they’ll be peo­ple who are just look­ing for vengeance because they’ve been left behind.”

The Angels, wrote Susan McWilliams in a much-cir­cu­lat­ed Nation piece late last year, “were clunky and out­classed and scorned, just like the Harley-David­sons they chose to dri­ve.” And “just as there was no ratio­nal way to defend Harleys against for­eign-made chop­pers, the Angels saw no ratio­nal grounds on which to defend their own skills or loy­al­ties against the emerg­ing new world order of the late 20th cen­tu­ry.” The result? An “eth­ic of total retal­i­a­tion. The Angels, rather than grace­ful­ly accept­ing their place as losers in an increas­ing­ly tech­ni­cal, intel­lec­tu­al, glob­al, inclu­sive, pro­gres­sive Amer­i­can soci­ety, stuck up their fin­gers at the whole enter­prise. If you can’t win, you can at least scare the bejeesus out of the guy wear­ing the medal.”

Six years lat­er, Terkel invit­ed Thomp­son back into his stu­dio for anoth­er inter­view (click here to lis­ten) that fol­lowed straight on from the first. Osten­si­bly there to talk about Thomp­son’s book Fear and Loathing on the Cam­paign Trail ’72 (which fol­lowed his best-known work, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas), the two, hav­ing cracked open a beer, get into what the Studs Terkel Radio Archive blog describes as “the sense of sur­re­al­ism in ‘real’ life,” which becomes “a very seri­ous con­ver­sa­tion about the direc­tion in which our coun­try was head­ing. After Thomp­son recount­ed his expe­ri­ence of talk­ing to Richard Nixon about foot­ball” — the only sub­ject per­mit­ted — “Studs responds, ‘Isn’t this what we’re faced with now? … That fan­ta­sy and fact become one.’ ”

What’s a reporter to do in such an envi­ron­ment? Terkel seems to see in Thomp­son the per­fect kind of “sub­jec­tive” jour­nal­ist, one “who can make lit­er­al what is psy­chic in our lives,” for a time that has lost its own objec­tiv­i­ty. “Has there ever been any such thing as objec­tive jour­nal­ism?” he asks. “It’s prob­a­bly the high­est kind of jour­nal­ism, if you can do it.” Thomp­son replies. “Nobody I know has ever done it, and I don’t have time to learn it.” But the dis­tinc­tive suite of jour­nal­is­tic skills he did pos­sess primed him to per­ceive cer­tain real­i­ties — and per­ceive them with a dis­tinc­tive vivid­ness — that have only become more real in the decades since. What, for instance, did he learn from cov­er­ing the 1972 pres­i­den­tial cam­paign? “Pow­er cor­rupts… but it’s also a fan­tas­tic high.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New Ani­ma­tion: Hunter S. Thomp­son Talks with Studs Terkel About the Hell’s Angels & The Out­law Life

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets Con­front­ed by The Hell’s Angels: Where’s Our Two Kegs of Beer? (1967)

Hunter S. Thompson’s Con­spir­a­to­r­i­al 9/11 Inter­view: “The Pub­lic Ver­sion of the News is Nev­er Real­ly What Hap­pened”

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets in a Gun­fight with His Neigh­bor & Dis­pens­es Polit­i­cal Wis­dom: “In a Democ­ra­cy, You Have to Be a Play­er”

Read 18 Lost Sto­ries From Hunter S. Thompson’s For­got­ten Stint As a For­eign Cor­re­spon­dent

Read 11 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, 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.

Read More...

Download 200+ Belle Époque Art Posters: An Archive of Masterpieces from the “Golden Age of the Poster” (1880–1918)

Europe at the end of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry and begin­ning of the twen­ti­eth: what a time and place to be alive. Or rather, what a time and place to be alive for peo­ple in the right coun­tries and, more impor­tant­ly, of the right class­es, those who saw a new world tak­ing shape around them and par­took of it with all pos­si­ble hearti­ness. The peri­od between the end of the Fran­co-Pruss­ian War in 1871 and the out­break of World War I in 1914, best known by its French name La Belle Époque, saw not just peace in Europe and empires at their zenith, but all man­ner of tech­no­log­i­cal, social, and cul­tur­al inno­va­tions at home as well.

We here in the 21st cen­tu­ry have few ways of tast­ing the life of that time as rich as its posters, more than 200 of which you can view in high res­o­lu­tion and down­load from “Art of the Poster 1880–1918,” a Flickr col­lec­tion assem­bled by the Min­neapo­lis Col­lege of Art and Design.

“In the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, lith­o­g­ra­phers began to use mass-pro­duced zinc plates rather than stones in their print­ing process,” says the accom­pa­ny­ing text. “This inno­va­tion allowed them to pre­pare mul­ti­ple plates, each with a dif­fer­ent col­or ink, and to print these with close reg­is­tra­tion on the same sheet of paper. Posters in a range of col­ors and vari­ety of sizes could now be pro­duced quick­ly, at mod­est cost.”

Like oth­er of the most fruit­ful tech­no­log­i­cal advance­ments of the era, this leap for­ward in poster-print­ing drew the atten­tion, and soon the efforts, of artists: well-regard­ed illus­tra­tors and graph­ic design­ers like Alphonse Mucha, Jules Chéret, Eugène Gras­set, and Hen­ri de Toulouse-Lautrec took to the new method, and “The ‘Gold­en Age of the Poster’ was the spec­tac­u­lar result.” While many of the best-remem­bered posters of that Gold­en Age come from France, it touched the streets of every major city in west­ern Europe as well as those of Eng­land and Amer­i­ca, all places whose well-heeled pop­u­la­tions found them­selves new­ly and avid­ly inter­est­ed in art, pho­tog­ra­phy, motion pic­tures, mag­a­zines, bicy­cles, auto­mo­biles, absinthe, cof­fee, cig­a­rettes, and world trav­el.

The com­pa­nies behind all those excit­ing things had, of course, to adver­tise, but unlike in ear­li­er times, they could­n’t set­tle for get­ting the word out; they had to use images, and the most vivid ones pos­si­ble at that. They had to use them in such a way as to asso­ciate what they had to offer with the abun­dant spir­it of the time, whether they called that time La Belle Époque, the Wil­helmine peri­od, the late Vic­to­ri­an and Edwar­dian era, or the Gild­ed Age. All those names, of course, were applied only in ret­ro­spect, after it became clear how bad times could get in the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. But then, none of us ever real­ize we’re liv­ing through a gold­en age before it comes to its inevitable end; until that time, best just to enjoy it. You can enter the poster archive here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 2,000 Mag­nif­i­cent Turn-of-the-Cen­tu­ry Art Posters, Cour­tesy of the New York Pub­lic Library

René Magritte’s Ear­ly Art Deco Adver­tis­ing Posters, 1924–1927

A Gallery of Visu­al­ly Arrest­ing Posters from the May 1968 Paris Upris­ing

Glo­ri­ous Ear­ly 20th-Cen­tu­ry Japan­ese Ads for Beer, Smokes & Sake (1902–1954)

40,000 Film Posters in a Won­der­ful­ly Eclec­tic Archive: Ital­ian Tarkovsky Posters, Japan­ese Orson Welles, Czech Woody Allen & Much More

The Strange and Won­der­ful Movie Posters from Ghana: The Matrix, Alien & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, 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.

Read More...

George Eliot’s Middlemarch Gets Reborn as a 21st Century Web Series: Watch It Online

In 1856, nov­el­ist George Eliot—real name Mary Anne Evans—issued a vicious cri­tique of oth­er women Eng­lish writ­ers in lan­guage we would expect from the most self-sat­is­fied of misog­y­nists, a group of peo­ple with an unqual­i­fied monop­oly on the cul­ture, but who had very lit­tle new to say on the sub­ject. But Eliot cer­tain­ly did, in “Sil­ly Nov­els by Lady Nov­el­ists.” Though she couch­es many of her crit­i­cal obser­va­tions in the con­de­scend­ing vocab­u­lary of a male antag­o­nist, the lan­guage only serves to make her argu­ment more effec­tive. The essay, writes Kathryn Schulz, “does a remark­able num­ber of things deft­ly and all at once.”

Although she is an uncom­mon­ly com­pas­sion­ate writer, Eliot has knife skills when she needs them, and the most obvi­ous thing she does here is chif­fon­ade the chick lit of her day. Yet even while cas­ti­gat­ing some women, she man­ages to cham­pi­on women as a whole. Her chief objec­tion to sil­ly nov­els is that they mis­rep­re­sent women’s real intel­lec­tu­al capac­i­ty; and the chief blame for them, she argues, lies not with their authors but with the ­cul­ture that pro­duced them—through inad­e­quate edu­ca­tion, low expec­ta­tions, patron­iz­ing crit­ics, and fear of the real deal.

The fault, she assert­ed, lies with the gate­keep­ers, the tastemak­ers, the lazy thinkers. Though an accom­plished essay­ist and trans­la­tor, Eliot would only pub­lish her first nov­el in 1859, at the age of 37. But “Sil­ly Nov­els by Lady Nov­el­ists,” writes Schulz, “traces out in neg­a­tive space, the con­tours of a tru­ly great novel”—one that wouldn’t arrive until four­teen years lat­er: Mid­dle­march: a study of provin­cial life. (Read online or down­load in var­i­ous for­mats here.)

The book’s first chap­ter intro­duces Dorothea Brooke, a well-off 19-year old orphan—who, writes Pamela Erens, “has dreams of doing some great work in the world” but gives her life instead to “dry humor­less pedant” Casaubon—with an iron­ic quote from the licen­tious Jacobean play The Maid’s Tragedy: “Since I can do no good because a woman, / Reach con­stant­ly at some­thing that is near it.”

As with the pen name she adopt­ed, Eliot appro­pri­at­ed the armor of a male-dom­i­nat­ed cul­ture to bring into being some of the most stag­ger­ing­ly insight­ful writ­ing of the time, and a bea­con to oth­er great women writ­ers. “What do I think of Mid­dle­march?,” wrote Emi­ly Dick­in­son, “What do I think of glory?—except that in a few instances ‘this mor­tal has already put on immor­tal­i­ty.’” Vir­ginia Woolf pro­nounced the book “one of the few Eng­lish nov­els writ­ten for grown-up peo­ple.” Num­ber twen­ty-one on The Guardian’s list of “The 100 Best Nov­els,” Mid­dle­march, writes Robert McCrum, exerts “an almost hyp­not­ic pow­er over its read­ers…. Today it stands as per­haps the great­est of many great Vic­to­ri­an nov­els.”

Do we have the time or the atten­tion to read Eliot’s sprawl­ing 900-page real­ist epic in the 21st cen­tu­ry? Giv­en that Karl Ove Knaus­gaard’s 3,600 page, six-part auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal nov­el, My Strug­gle, is one of the most laud­ed lit­er­ary works of the past few years, per­haps we do. More specif­i­cal­ly, in the lan­guage of many a con­de­scend­ing crit­ic of today, do “Mil­len­ni­als” have the time and atten­tion to read Mid­dle­march? At least a cer­tain con­tin­gent of young read­ers has not only read the nov­el, but has adapt­ed it into a sev­en­ty-episode web dra­ma, Mid­dle­march: The Series—an “attempt worth watch­ing,” writes Rebec­ca Mead at The New York­er, “for its ambi­tion as well as its charm.”

Writ­ten and direct­ed by Yale under­grad­u­ate film stu­dent Rebec­ca Shoptaw, the series stars sev­er­al of Shoptaw’s peers “as stu­dents at Low­ick Col­lege, in the fic­tion­al town of Mid­dle­march, Con­necti­cut,” and it tran­scribes the novel’s form into that most 21st cen­tu­ry of medi­ums, the vlog. You can see the offi­cial teas­er at the top of the post; watch the first episode just above, intro­duc­ing Yale stu­dent Mia Fowler as Dot Brooke; and see the full series, thus far, down below. (The show has already won awards and recog­ni­tion from sev­er­al film fes­ti­vals. See “air dates” and more on its busy Tum­blr page.)

Up to now, notes Mead, Eliot’s fic­tion has resist­ed the kind of treat­ment giv­en to Char­lotte Bron­të and Jane Austen in adap­ta­tions like “a chap­ter book for tweens called Jane Air­head” and the Austen-inspired Brid­get Jones’s Diary and Clue­less (not to men­tion Pride and Prej­u­dice and Zom­bies). And yet, despite the daunt­ing size, scope, and seri­ous­ness of Eliot’s nov­el, Mid­dle­march: the Series con­tin­ues in this tra­di­tion of light-heart­ed, pop-cul­tur­al mod­ern­iza­tions, using the same device as the award-win­ning Austen vlog adap­ta­tion The Lizzie Ben­net Diaries and Bron­të vlog adap­ta­tion “The Auto­bi­og­ra­phy of Jane Eyre.”

Though it is “an impos­si­bly tall order,” writes Mead, “to expect a Web series to approach the nuance of a nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry novel—of the nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry nov­el,” adap­ta­tions like Shoptaw’s don’t even attempt to do this. They express “a win­ning affec­tion” for their source mate­r­i­al, and a sense of how it still informs the very dif­fer­ent gen­der iden­ti­ties and sex­u­al rela­tion­ships of the present. In that sense, it may be use­ful to think of them as, in part, work­ing in a sim­i­lar vein as anoth­er very 21st cen­tu­ry medi­um: fan fic­tion. Would the knives-out crit­ic Eliot approve? Impos­si­ble to say. But I dare say she might admire the ambi­tion, cre­ative impuls­es, and nar­ra­tive inge­nu­ity of Shoptaw and her cast per­haps as much as they admire her great­est work.

via The New York­er

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“The Auto­bi­og­ra­phy of Jane Eyre” Adapts Brontë’s Hero­ine for Vlogs, Tum­blr, Twit­ter & Insta­gram

Hear Jane Austen’s Pride and Prej­u­dice as a Free Audio Book 

Read Jane Austen’s Fic­tion Man­u­scripts Free Online

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

 

Read More...

Renaissance Knives Had Music Engraved on the Blades; Now Hear the Songs Performed by Modern Singers

Image cour­tesy of The Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um

On any giv­en week­end, in any part of the state where I live, you can find your­self stand­ing in a hall full of knives, if that’s the kind of thing you like to do. It is a very niche kind of expe­ri­ence. Not so in some oth­er weapons expos—like the Arms and Armor gal­leries at the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art, where every­one, from the most war­like to the staunchest of paci­fists, stands in awe at the intri­cate orna­men­ta­tion and incred­i­bly deft crafts­man­ship on dis­play in the suits of armor, lances, shields, and lots and lots of knives.

We must acknowl­edge in such a space that the worlds of art and of killing for fame and prof­it were nev­er very far apart dur­ing Europe’s late Medieval and Renais­sance peri­ods. Yet we encounter many sim­i­lar arti­sanal instru­ments from the time, just as fine­ly tuned, but made for far less bel­liger­ent pur­pos­es.

As Maya Cor­ry of the Fitzwilliam Muse­um in Cam­bridge—an insti­tu­tion with its own impres­sive arms and armor col­lec­tion—com­ments in the video above (at 2:30), one unusu­al kind of 16th cen­tu­ry knife meant for the table, not the bat­tle­field, offers “insight into that har­mo­nious, audi­ble aspect of fam­i­ly devo­tions,” prayer and song.

From the col­lec­tion of the Fitzwilliam Muse­um, in Cam­bridge. (Johan Oost­er­man )

These knives, which have musi­cal scores engraved in their blades, brought a table togeth­er in singing their prayers, and may have been used to carve the lamb or beef in their “strik­ing bal­ance of dec­o­ra­tive and util­i­tar­i­an func­tion.” At least his­to­ri­ans think such “nota­tion knives,” which date from the ear­ly 1500s, were used at ban­quets. “The sharp, wide steel would have been ide­al for cut­ting and serv­ing meat,” writes Eliza Grace Mar­tin at the WQXR blog, “and the accen­tu­at­ed tip would have made for a per­fect skew­er.” But as Kris­ten Kalber, cura­tor at the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, which hous­es the knives at the top of the post, tells us “din­ers in very grand feasts didn’t cut their own meat.” It’s unlike­ly they would have sung from the bloody knives held by their ser­vants.

The knives’ true pur­pose “remains a mys­tery,” Mar­tin remarks, like many “rit­u­als of the Renais­sance table.”  Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um cura­tor Kirstin Kennedy admits in the video above that “we are not entire­ly sure” what the “splen­did knife” she holds was used for. But we do know that each knife had a dif­fer­ent piece of music on each side, and that a set of them togeth­er con­tained dif­fer­ent har­mo­ny parts in order to turn a room­ful of din­ers into a cho­rus. One set of blades had the grace on one side, with the inscrip­tion, “the bless­ing of the table. May the three-in-one bless that which we are about to eat.” The oth­er side holds the bene­dic­tion, to be sung after the din­ner: “The say­ing of grace. We give thanks to you God for your gen­eros­i­ty.”

Com­mon enough ver­biage for any house­hold in Renais­sance Europe, but when sung, at least by a cho­rus from the Roy­al Col­lege of Music, who recre­at­ed the music and made the record­ings here, the prayers are superbly grace­ful. Above, hear one ver­sion of the Grace and Bene­dic­tion from the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um knives; below, hear a sec­ond ver­sion. You can hear a cap­ti­vat­ing set of choral prayers from the Fitzwilliam Muse­um knives at WQXR’s site, record­ed for the Fitzwilliam’s “Madon­nas & Mir­a­cles” exhib­it. We are as unlike­ly now to encounter singing kitchen knives as we are to run into a horse and rid­er bear­ing 100 pounds of fine­ly-wrought wear­able steel sculp­ture. Such strange arti­facts seem to speak of a strange peo­ple who val­ued beau­ty whether carv­ing up the main course or cut­ting down their ene­mies.

via WQXR/@tedgioia

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ancient Philo­soph­i­cal Song Recon­struct­ed and Played for the First Time in 1,000 Years

See The Guidon­ian Hand, the Medieval Sys­tem for Read­ing Music, Get Brought Back to Life

Hear the Ear­li­est Known Piece of Poly­phon­ic Music: This Com­po­si­tion, Dat­ing Back to 900 AD, Changed West­ern Music

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

Read More...

Quantcast