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Watch a Korean Master Craftsman Make a Kimchi Pot by Hand, All According to Ancient Tradition

The South Kore­an cap­i­tal of Seoul, where I live, has in the 21st cen­tu­ry aston­ished vis­it­ing West­ern­ers with its tech­nol­o­gy, its infra­struc­ture, and its sheer urban vital­i­ty. It strikes many of those West­ern­ers (and I include myself among them) as con­sid­er­ably more devel­oped than any­where in the coun­tries they came from. But how­ev­er much Seoul may feel like the future, nowhere in Korea has the past whol­ly van­ished. Take the bul­bous earth­en­ware jars still vis­i­ble on more than a few of the coun­try’s ter­races and rooftops, meant to hold condi­ments like soy­bean and red pep­per paste as well as that world-famous sym­bol of not just Kore­an cui­sine but Kore­an cul­ture itself, the fer­ment­ed cab­bage known as kim­chi.

Com­mon­ly called hangari, or more tra­di­tion­al­ly ong­gi, these jars essen­tial to the fer­men­ta­tion of kim­chi and oth­er Kore­an foods are today pro­duced in large num­bers with indus­tri­al meth­ods. But there are also Kore­an pot­ters who’ve stuck to the old ways — and in a select few cas­es, the very old ways indeed. Take Jin-Gyu, the sub­ject of the video above, a short doc­u­men­tary from Eater’s “Hand­made” series.

“I’m the youngest of the intan­gi­ble cul­tur­al assets in Korea,” he says, refer­ring to the offi­cial list of Impor­tant Intan­gi­ble Cul­tur­al Prop­er­ties intro­duced to pro­tect long-stand­ing tra­di­tions in music, dance, and craft just as the coun­try began its unprece­dent­ed surge into moder­ni­ty. The mak­ing of ong­gi itself, a process Jin-Gyu demon­strates from start to fin­ish in the video, is Impor­tant Intan­gi­ble Cul­tur­al Prop­er­ty No. 96.

After pound­ing his clay into shape while describ­ing how its soil first flows down from the moun­tains, Jin-gyu places it onto his wheel and gives it the dis­tinc­tive shape rec­og­niz­able from all those ter­races and rooftops. This requires con­stant use of his hands, occa­sion­al use of his feet, and even the appli­ca­tion of tra­di­tion­al tools that he also made him­self. The con­trast with tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese pot­tery, its empha­sis on small-scale ele­gance and near-exis­ten­tial­ist atti­tude toward the final prod­uct, is instruc­tive: the Kore­an vari­ety, as Jin-gyu prac­tices it, has a dif­fer­ent ener­gy, more of an emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal rus­tic­i­ty. “This makes me so hap­py,” he says after remov­ing fin­ished jar from the kiln orig­i­nal­ly built by his ong­gi-pot­ter father. “After 300 years, it’ll return to the soil.” But there are plen­ty of hearty meals to be had in the mean­time, none of them with­out kim­chi.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Kore­an Pot­ter Found a “Beau­ti­ful Life” Through His Art: A Short, Life-Affirm­ing Doc­u­men­tary

The Art of the Japan­ese Teapot: Watch a Mas­ter Crafts­man at Work, from the Begin­ning Until the Star­tling End

How Soy Sauce Has Been Made in Japan for Over 220 Years: An Inside View

Mod­ern Artists Show How the Ancient Greeks & Romans Made Coins, Vas­es & Arti­sanal Glass

“Prim­i­tive Pot­ter” Trav­els into the Back­coun­try for 10 Days with Only a Knife & Buck­skin and Makes Anasazi Pot­tery

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

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Life Lessons From 100-Year-Olds: Timeless Advice in a Short Film

And there­fore my opin­ion is, that when once forty years old we should con­sid­er our time of life as an age to which very few arrive; for see­ing that men do not usu­al­ly last so long, it is a sign that we are pret­ty well advanced; and since we have exceed­ed the bounds which make the true mea­sure of life, we ought not to expect to go much fur­ther. —Michel de Mon­taigne

After his retire­ment at age 38, renais­sance essay­ist Michel de Mon­taigne devot­ed sev­er­al pages to the sub­ject of mor­tal­i­ty, as press­ing an issue for him as for the clas­si­cal philoso­phers he adored. And no less press­ing an issue for us, of course. The brute fact of death aside, the qual­i­ty of our lives has lit­tle in com­mon with those of Cato, Seneca, or Mon­taigne him­self. We meet needs and wants with com­mands to Alexa. We are beset by glob­al anx­i­eties they nev­er imag­ined, and by reme­dies that would have saved mil­lions in their time. Even in the age of Covid-19, life isn’t near­ly so pre­car­i­ous as it was in 16th cen­tu­ry France.

But whether we set the thresh­old at 40, 80, or 100, “to die of old age is a death rare, extra­or­di­nary, and sin­gu­lar,” Mon­taigne argued. Few attain it today. “It is the last and extremest sort of dying… the bound­ary of life beyond which we are not to pass, and which the law of nature has pitched for a lim­it not to be exceed­ed.” For these rea­sons and more, we look to the very aged for wis­dom: they have attained what most of us will not, and can only look back­wards, see­ing the full­ness of life, if they have clar­i­ty, in panoram­ic hind­sight. Such vision is the sub­ject of the 2016 short film above, in which three unique­ly lucid cen­te­nar­i­ans dis­pense advice, reflect on their expe­ri­ence, and rem­i­nisce about the jazz age.

“I have always been lucky,” says now-108-year-old Tereza Harp­er. “I’ve nev­er been unlucky.” No one lives to such an advanced age with­out fac­ing a lit­tle hard­ship. Harp­er immi­grat­ed to Eng­land from Czecho­slo­va­kia dur­ing World War II to reunite with her father, who had been a pris­on­er of war. She lived to wit­ness the many hor­rors of the 20th cen­tu­ry and the many of the 21st so far. And yet, she says, “Every­thing makes me hap­py. I love talk­ing to peo­ple. I like doing things. I like going out shop­ping. Once I go out shop­ping, I don’t real­ly want to come back…. I’m not going yet. I’m still strong. I’m very very strong. I nev­er real­ized how strong I am.” ”

What is the source of such strength and joy in the ordi­nary rep­e­ti­tions of dai­ly life? A pro­found con­tent­ment marked by a sense of com­ple­tion, for one thing. “I don’t think there’s any­thing that I real­ly need to do,” Harp­er says, “because I’ve done prac­ti­cal­ly every­thing that I’ve ever want­ed to do in the past.” Like­wise, 101-year-old Cliff Crozi­er, who died last year, remarks, “I think I’ve done all that I want­ed to do.” Lat­er, he adds some nuance: “I don’t have many fail­ures,” he says. “If I’m mak­ing a cake and it fails it becomes a pud­ding.” (He also says, “It always pleas­es me that I can keep rob­bing the gov­ern­ment with my pen­sion.”)

Are there regrets? Nat­u­ral­ly. 102-year-old John Den­er­ley, who passed away in 2018, says rue­ful­ly, “If I’d have been more atten­tive at school in my ear­ly life, I’d have stud­ied more, and hard­er…. Well, I didn’t do too bad in the end. But I think the soon­er you start study­ing the bet­ter.” Crozi­er express­es regrets over the way he treat­ed his father, a rela­tion­ship that still caus­es him grief. These three are not, after all, super­hu­mans. They are sub­ject to the same pains as the rest of us. But they have achieved a van­tage from which to see the whole of life from its lim­it. Whether or not we achieve the same, we can all learn from them how to make the most of the “extra­or­di­nary for­tune,” as Mon­taigne wrote, “which has hith­er­to kept us above ground.”

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Bertrand Russell’s Advice For How (Not) to Grow Old: “Make Your Inter­ests Grad­u­al­ly Wider and More Imper­son­al”

You’re Only As Old As You Feel: Har­vard Psy­chol­o­gist Ellen Langer Shows How Men­tal Atti­tude Can Poten­tial­ly Reverse the Effects of Aging

Ram Dass (RIP) Offers Wis­dom on Con­fronting Aging and Dying

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

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Werner Herzog Discovers the Ecstasy of Skateboarding: “That’s Kind of My People”

If Wern­er Her­zog has ever stood atop a skate­board, cin­e­ma seems not to have record­ed it. But when asked by online skate­board­ing mag­a­zine Jenkem to dis­cuss the sport and/or lifestyle, he did so with char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly lit­tle reser­va­tion. “I’m not famil­iar with the scene of skate­board­ing,” he admits in the video inter­view above. “At the same time, I had the feel­ing, yes, that’s kind of my peo­ple.” Fans will make the con­nec­tion between skate­board­ing videos and the Bavar­i­an film­mak­er’s ear­ly doc­u­men­tary The Great Ecsta­sy of Wood­carv­er Stein­er, on cham­pi­on ski jumper Wal­ter Stein­er, even before a clip of it appears.

In fact Her­zog him­self, as revealed in the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal short Por­trait Wern­er Her­zog, only turned film­mak­er after shelv­ing his own dreams of ski-jump­ing. The expe­ri­ence must have taught him vis­cer­al­ly, through those parts of the body that don’t for­get, what it means to make count­less attempts result­ing in count­less fail­ures — with a bet­ter fail­ure here and there, and at some dis­tant, ecsta­t­ic moment, per­haps a suc­cess.

Viewed at great enough length, the kind of skate­board­er who attempts a trick on video dozens, even hun­dreds of times, before land­ing it could well be a char­ac­ter from one of Her­zog’s own films, espe­cial­ly his doc­u­men­taries about men unable to stop putting them­selves in har­m’s way in the name of their fix­a­tions.

“So many fail­ures,” mar­vels Her­zog as he watch­es one such video. “That’s aston­ish­ing.” It cer­tain­ly “does­n’t do good to his pelvis, nor to his elbows,” Her­zog adds, but such is the price of ecsta­sy. For him, the obscu­ri­ty of the vast major­i­ty of skate­board­ers only com­pounds the sacred­ness of their prac­tice. This as opposed to the David Blaines of the world, whose phys­i­cal feats “are meant only for his own pub­lic­i­ty, and for shin­ing out in the media. Skate­board kids are not out for the media. They do it for the joy of it, and for the fun of it.” If Her­zog were to pay cin­e­mat­ic trib­ute to these kids, sure­ly he would make sim­i­lar obser­va­tions though voiceover nar­ra­tion. As for his instinct of how to fill out the rest of the sound­track, “What comes to mind first and fore­most would be Russ­ian Ortho­dox church choirs.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wern­er Her­zog Offers 24 Pieces of Film­mak­ing and Life Advice

Tony Hawk & Archi­tec­tur­al His­to­ri­an Iain Bor­den Tell the Sto­ry of How Skate­board­ing Found a New Use for Cities & Archi­tec­ture

“Try Again. Fail Again. Fail Bet­ter”: How Samuel Beck­ett Cre­at­ed the Unlike­ly Mantra That Inspires Entre­pre­neurs Today

Por­trait Wern­er Her­zog: The Director’s Auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal Short Film from 1986

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

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The Internet Archive Now Digitizing 1,000,000+ Objects from a Massive Cinema History Library


Major motion pic­tures need the work of writ­ers, direc­tors, actors, cin­e­matog­ra­phers, and a slew of oth­er pro­fes­sion­als besides. That group also includes researchers, whose role has until recent­ly gone prac­ti­cal­ly uncel­e­brat­ed out­side the indus­try. In 2015, film­mak­er Daniel Raim brought the work of the film researcher to light with Harold and Lil­lian: A Hol­ly­wood Love Sto­ry, about pro­duc­tion design­er Harold Michel­son and his researcher wife Lil­lian. “In Raim’s doc­u­men­tary, she talks about work­ing on Fid­dler on the Roof and the film­mak­ers need­ed to know what a Jew­ish wom­an’s under­gar­ments looked like in the 1890s,” writes The Hol­ly­wood Reporter’s Emi­ly Hilton. How could she find such obscure infor­ma­tion?

“Michel­son sat on a bench at Fair­fax and Bev­er­ly near a Jew­ish deli and spoke to women who were about the right age to have been alive in that era.” One of these women “ran home and grabbed a sewing pat­tern for her to ref­er­ence. This research inspired the out­fits that Τevye’s daugh­ters wear in the num­ber: knee length bloomers with scal­loped edges.”

As yet, this pat­tern has­n’t appeared in the Michel­son Cin­e­ma Research Library, now host­ed online at the Inter­net Archive. But it may yet, as the project of dig­i­ti­za­tion and upload­ing has hard­ly begun: it was just last year that the nona­ge­nar­i­an Lil­lian Michel­son donat­ed to the Archive her for­mi­da­ble col­lec­tion of research mate­ri­als, amassed over her long career.

“After near­ly six decades serv­ing film­mak­ers first at Samuel Gold­wyn, then the Amer­i­can Film Insti­tute, Zoetrope Stu­dio, Para­mount and Dream­Works,” writes the Los Ange­les Times’ Mary McNa­ma­ra, “the library filled 1,594 box­es: tens of thou­sands of books, pho­tographs, mag­a­zines and a panoply of oth­er visu­al resources. All of this had been sit­ting for five years in a stor­age facil­i­ty, paid for by friends who could not bear to see it all destroyed.” Now that the dig­i­tal archival process is under­way, you can browse the first 1,300 or so entries at the Inter­net Archive, which allows users to vir­tu­al­ly check out the Michel­son Cin­e­ma Research Library’s books on sub­jects rang­ing from the­atri­cal cos­tumes and vin­tage cin­e­ma lob­by cards to places like Japan and Paris to less expect­ed top­ics like the Amaz­ing Kre­skin and the exter­nals of the Catholic Church.

But then, a Hol­ly­wood researcher must be pre­pared to learn about any­thing, and by all accounts Lil­lian Michel­son was per­haps the great­est of them all. In addi­tion to its com­pre­hen­sive­ness, her library became a hang­out of choice for a vari­ety of stu­dio pro­fes­sion­als and celebri­ties includ­ing Tom Waits. (“I wouldn’t be sur­prised if that’s how he found some time to unwind,” says Raim, “just drink­ing tea there.”) The Inter­net Archive describes her col­lec­tion as con­sist­ing of “5,000 books, 30,000 pho­tographs, and more than 1,000,000 clip­pings, scrap­books and ephemera,” more of which will come online as time goes by. Even­tu­al­ly the site will con­tain all the mate­ri­als from which Michel­son drew vital knowl­edge for film­mak­ers like Roman Polan­s­ki, Alfred Hitch­cock, and Stan­ley Kubrick. And if her research mate­ri­als sat­is­fied those three, they’re more than good enough for us.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

10,000 Clas­sic Movie Posters Get­ting Dig­i­tized & Put Online by the Har­ry Ran­som Cen­ter at UT-Austin: Free to Browse & Down­load

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

Down­load 6600 Free Films from The Prelinger Archives and Use Them How­ev­er You Like

Good Movies as Old Books: 100 Films Reimag­ined as Vin­tage Book Cov­ers

1,150 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc.

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

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Jimi Hendrix Revisits His Searing Performance of “The Star-Spangled Banner”: The Dick Cavett Show (September 9, 1969)

On the final August morn­ing of Wood­stock, after a pre­vi­ous day’s down­pour had turned most of the field near the stage into mud, after an evening of blues and rock and the come­down of what­ev­er drugs had peaked every­body ear­li­er, as the sun­light crept over what was left of the 500,000 music lovers, now less than half in num­ber, wrapped in blan­kets and still vib­ing, Jimi Hen­drix took the stage. Now, the Star-Span­gled Ban­ner wasn’t his final song, but it was a finale of sorts, a coda for a three-day event where love tri­umphed for just a lit­tle while over war, that war rag­ing across the ocean in the sim­i­lar mud of Viet­nam. Hen­drix ripped the Nation­al Anthem, with its famous lyrics about bombs and its hid­den stan­zas about slaves, a new one. He turned that gui­tar into its own kind of weapon, sound­ing like those jet bombers rain­ing fire and napalm down, inter­rupt­ing Fran­cis Scott Key’s melody like a pro­tes­tor beg­ging to dif­fer at the Chica­go con­ven­tion. Hen­drix was going to send his audi­ence out into Amer­i­ca, back into soci­ety, with some­thing to chew on.

“All I did was play it. I’m Amer­i­can, so I played it,” Hen­drix tells Dick Cavett in the above clip from Sep­tem­ber 9, 1969, less than a month after the con­cert. “They made me sing it in school, so it was a flash­back, you know?”

But there was more to it than that. Hen­drix him­self was a vet­er­an. He joined the 101st Air­borne Divi­sion in 1961 under duress—it was either that or jail. He last­ed a year, dis­charged for “behav­ior prob­lems,” “lit­tle regard for reg­u­la­tions,” and “mas­tur­bat­ing in pla­toon area while sup­posed to be on detail.” Even while there, he had time to play gui­tar. Did this give him a “buffer” to lam­baste the war? Not real­ly. Right wing Amer­i­cans tend to be very touchy about the anthem, and any­thing that strays from the usu­al army band arrange­ment brings dis­trust and nasty let­ters, as Cavett notes in the video. (And being a per­son of col­or sure­ly had some­thing to do with it too.) To wit: folk singer José Feli­ciano per­formed a soul­ful ver­sion of the anthem before Game Five of the 1968 World Series in Detroit, where the Tigers played the Car­di­nals. Nowhere near the cor­us­cat­ing ver­sion of Hen­drix, but still the audi­ence, even the play­ers them­selves, were divid­ed.

Hen­drix raised the game and the ire. It was all jour­nal­ists want­ed to ask Hen­drix, hop­ing to goad him into a state­ment about the war. Hen­drix didn’t take the bait. “We’re all Amer­i­cans,” he answered at a press con­fer­ence after the con­cert. “…it was like ‘Go, Amer­i­ca!’”

But then the more telling line fol­lowed. “We play it the way the air is in Amer­i­ca today. The air is slight­ly sta­t­ic, see.”

Cavett is kinder, allow­ing Hen­drix to cor­rect him when he calls the ver­sion unortho­dox.

“No, no. I thought it was beau­ti­ful,” the mod­est musi­cian says. “But there you go, you know?”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jimi Hendrix’s Home Audio Sys­tem & Record Col­lec­tion Gets Recre­at­ed in His Lon­don Flat

How Sci­ence Fic­tion Formed Jimi Hen­drix

Watch Rare Footage of Jimi Hen­drix Per­form­ing “Voodoo Child” in Maui, Plus a Trail­er for a New Doc­u­men­tary on Jimi Hendrix’s Leg­endary Maui Per­for­mances (1970)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

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A 10 Billion Pixel Scan of Vermeer’s Masterpiece Girl with a Pearl Earring: Explore It Online

We admire Johannes Ver­meer’s Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring for many rea­sons, not least that it looks exact­ly like a girl with a pearl ear­ring. Or at least it does from a dis­tance, as the mas­ter of light him­self no doubt stepped back to con­firm count­less times dur­ing the paint­ing process, at any moment of which he would have been more con­cerned with the brush­strokes con­sti­tut­ing only a small part of the image. But even Ver­meer him­self could have per­ceived only so much detail of the paint­ing that would become his mas­ter­piece.

Now, more than 350 years after its com­ple­tion, we can get a clos­er view of Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring than any­one has before through a new­ly released 10 bil­lion-pix­el panora­ma. At this res­o­lu­tion, writes Petapix­el’s Jason Schnei­der, we can “see the paint­ing down to the lev­el of 4.4‑microns per pix­el.”

Under­tak­en by Emi­lien Leon­hardt and Vin­cent Sabati­er of 3D micro­scope mak­er Hirox Europe “in order to eval­u­ate the sur­face con­di­tion of the paint­ing, mea­sure cracks, and see the topog­ra­phy of var­i­ous key areas while assess­ing past restora­tions,” the project required tak­ing 9,100 pho­tos, which “were auto­mat­i­cal­ly cap­tured and stitched togeth­er to form one fin­ished panora­ma image where one pix­el equals 4.4 microns.”

You’ll under­stand what this means if you view the panora­ma and click the plus sym­bol on the bot­tom con­trol bar to zoom in — and click it again, and again, and again. (Or just click it and hold it down.) Before long, Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring will look less like a girl with a pearl ear­ring than what she real­ly is: cen­turies-old oil paints on a cen­turies-old can­vas. The phys­i­cal­i­ty of this work of art, one so often held up as the real­iza­tion of aes­thet­ic ide­al, becomes even less ignor­able if you click the “3D” but­ton. This presents ten indi­vid­ual sec­tions of the paint­ing scanned in three dimen­sions, which you can freely rotate and even light from all direc­tions.

The 3D-scanned por­tions include the tit­u­lar pearl ear­ring, which appears to have a bit of a gouge in it. They’re more clear­ly vis­i­ble in 5x topo­graph­i­cal view­ing mode (selec­table on the top con­trol bar). This offi­cial Hirox video offers a glimpse of the pro­ce­dure required to achieve the kind of unprece­dent­ed­ly high-res­o­lu­tion view of Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring that allows us to behold details hereto­fore prac­ti­cal­ly invis­i­ble. At more than 10,000 megapix­els, the back­ground reveals itself to be in fact a dark green cur­tain, and the girl her­self has clear­ly defined eye­lash­es. But as for her long-spec­u­lat­ed-about iden­ti­ty, well, there are some things microscopy can’t deter­mine. Take a close look at Ver­meer’s paint­ing here. And if you’d like to take a sim­i­lar look at Rem­brandt’s The Night Watch, click here.

via Colos­sal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why is Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring Con­sid­ered a Mas­ter­piece?: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

Mas­ter of Light: A Close Look at the Paint­ings of Johannes Ver­meer Nar­rat­ed by Meryl Streep

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

The Largest & Most Detailed Pho­to­graph of Rembrandt’s The Night Watch Is Now Online: Zoom In & See Every Brush Stroke

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­terBooks on Cities, 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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Prince’s First Television Interview (1985)

By 1985, Prince had made appear­ances on Amer­i­can Band­stand and Sat­ur­day Night Live, toured the world sev­er­al times, and released sev­en stu­dio albums, includ­ing the ground­break­ing Pur­ple Rain and less-than-ground­break­ing accom­pa­ny­ing film, for which he won an Oscar. He had inad­ver­tent­ly helped launch Tip­per Gore’s Par­ents Music Resource Coun­cil after she caught her daugh­ter lis­ten­ing to “Dar­ling Nik­ki.” He was a bona fide glob­al super­star and one of the biggest-sell­ing artists of the decade. And he had yet to give a sin­gle inter­view.

Well, this isn’t entire­ly true. Dur­ing his Amer­i­can Band­stand appear­ance in 1979, the 19-year-old funk wun­derkind respond­ed to ques­tions from Dick Clark with a few guard­ed, one-word answers. He also gave an inter­view to his high school news­pa­per, telling them “I think it is very hard for a band to make it in [Min­neapo­lis], even if they’re good. Main­ly because there aren’t any big record com­pa­nies or stu­dios in this state. I real­ly feel that if we would have lived in Los Ange­les or New York or some oth­er big city, we would have got­ten over by now.”

Prince got over soon enough, but he didn’t seem at all eager to talk about him­self, one of the pri­ma­ry respon­si­bil­i­ties of a pop star. It was as though he knew he was so good he didn’t have to adver­tise. Soon after the release of his sev­enth album, Around the World in a Day—the source of such hits as “Rasp­ber­ry Beret” and “Pais­ley Park”—he gave an inter­view to Rolling Stone (who described the “Kung Fu Grasshop­per voice with which Prince whis­pers when meet­ing strangers or accept­ing Acad­e­my Awards.”)

He also agreed to appear on a new cable tele­vi­sion sta­tion called MTV. The inter­view, above, begins with the expect­ed ques­tion, “Why were you so secre­tive pri­or to this?” Prince, sur­round­ed by a cohort of young audi­ence mem­bers, says he was “home­sick” and pouts. Then we imme­di­ate­ly get a bet­ter answer to the ques­tion when the inter­view­er asks whether Prince’s need for con­trol came from a trou­bled child­hood. He sneers, calls the ques­tion “hor­ri­ble,” and answers a bet­ter one about how he found his musi­cal direc­tion and han­dled dis­agree­ments with his band­mates.

The tone remains strange­ly com­bat­ive and Prince remains eeri­ly calm, but his expres­sive face reg­is­ters irri­ta­tion and amuse­ment. “I strive for orig­i­nal­i­ty in my music,” he says. He also “remem­bers how he was influ­enced by James Brown after danc­ing on stage with him at just 10 years old, touch­es on com­par­isons to musi­cians like Jimi Hen­drix and answers provoca­tive ques­tions about ‘sell­ing out to white audi­ences’ with Pur­ple Rain,” writes the Vinyl Fac­to­ry. Watch the full inter­view above and see if you can bet­ter under­stand why Prince avoid­ed inter­views, or why inter­view­ers tried so hard to box him into stereo­typ­i­cal roles.

via Messy Nessy

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Read Prince’s First Inter­view, Print­ed in His High School News­pa­per (1976)

Aca­d­e­m­ic Jour­nal Devotes an Entire Issue to Prince’s Life & Music: Read and Down­load It for Free

Four Clas­sic Prince Songs Re-Imag­ined as Pulp Fic­tion Cov­ers: When Doves Cry, Lit­tle Red Corvette & More

The Prince Online Muse­um Archives 16 of Prince’s Offi­cial Web Sites, Span­ning 20 Years

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

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How the Bicycle Accelerated the Women’s Rights Movement (Circa 1890)

The ear­ly his­to­ry of the bicy­cle did not promise great things—or any­thing, really—for women at the dawn of the 19th cen­tu­ry. A two-wheeled bicy­cle-like inven­tion, for exam­ple, built in 1820, “was more like an agri­cul­tur­al imple­ment in con­struc­tion than a bicy­cle,” one bicy­cle his­to­ry notes. Made of wood, the “hob­by hors­es” and veloci­pedes of cycling’s first decades rolled on iron wheels. Their near-total lack of sus­pen­sion led to the epi­thet “bone­shak­er.” Some had steer­ing mech­a­nisms, some did not. Brak­ing was gen­er­al­ly accom­plished with the feet, or a crowd of pedes­tri­ans, a tree, or horse-drawn cart.

Lad­dish clubs formed and raced around Lon­don, Paris, and New York. No girls allowed. The ear­li­est bicy­cles for women were rid­den side-sad­dle…. But despite all this, it is entire­ly fair to say that few tech­nolo­gies in his­to­ry, ancient or mod­ern, have done more to free women from domes­tic toilage and bring them careen­ing into the pub­lic square, to the dis­may of the Vic­to­ri­an estab­lish­ment.

Bicy­cles “gave women a new lev­el of trans­porta­tion inde­pen­dence that per­plexed news­pa­per colum­nists” and the gen­er­al pub­lic, writes Adri­enne LaFrance at The Atlantic, quot­ing a San Fran­cis­co jour­nal­ist in 1895:

It real­ly does­n’t mat­ter much where this one indi­vid­ual young lady is going on her wheel. It may be that she’s going to the park on plea­sure bent, or to the store for a dozen hair­pins, or to call on a sick friend at the oth­er side of town, or to get a doily pat­tern of some­body, or a recipe for remov­ing tan and freck­les. Let that be as it may. What the inter­est­ed pub­lic wish­es to know is, Where are all the women on wheels going? Is there a grand ren­dezvous some­where toward which they are all head­ed and where they will some time hold a meet that will cause this wob­bly old world to wake up and read­just itself?

Women cyclists were seen as the advanced guard of a com­ing war. “Square­ly in the cen­ter of this bat­tle was one tool,” notes the Vox video above, “that com­plete­ly changed the game.” Both Susan B. Antho­ny and Eliz­a­beth Cady Stan­ton are cred­it­ed with declar­ing that ‘woman is rid­ing to suf­frage on the bicy­cle,’ a line that was print­ed and reprint­ed in news­pa­pers at the turn of the cen­tu­ry,” LaFrance writes. By the 1890s, every­one rode bicy­cles, the first Tour de France was only a few years away, and cycling tech­nol­o­gy had come so far that it would help cre­ate both the car—with its inno­v­a­tive pneu­mat­ic tires and spoked wheels—and the air­plane, through the exper­i­ments of Ohio bicy­cle-mak­ers the Wright Broth­ers.

The new bikes, orig­i­nal­ly called “safe­ty bikes” to con­trast them with giant-wheeled pen­ny-far­things that were briefly the norm, may not have devel­oped gear­ing sys­tems yet, but they were far lighter, cheap­er, and eas­i­er to ride (com­par­a­tive­ly) than the bicy­cles that had come before, which began as play­things for wealthy young men-about-town. The Nation­al Women’s His­to­ry Muse­um describes the scene:

At the turn of the cen­tu­ry, trains, auto­mo­biles, and street­cars were grow­ing in use in urban areas, but peo­ple still large­ly depend­ed on hors­es for trans­porta­tion. Hors­es, and espe­cial­ly car­riages, were expen­sive and women often had to depend on men to hitch up the hors­es for trav­el…. Sur­round­ed by inef­fi­cient and expen­sive forms of trav­el, bicy­cles arrived in cities with the promise of prac­ti­cal­i­ty and afford­abil­i­ty. Bicy­cles were rel­a­tive­ly inex­pen­sive and pro­vid­ed men and women with indi­vid­ual trans­porta­tion for busi­ness, sports, or recre­ation.

Not only did bicy­cles give women equal access to per­son­al rapid tran­sit, but they did so for women of many dif­fer­ent social class­es. The lev­el­ing effects were sig­nif­i­cant, as were the changes to women’s fash­ion. Exposed calves (though still encased in var­i­ous cycling boots) pre­pared the way for trousers. Tra­di­tion­al­ists were out­raged, cease­less­ly mocked women on bikes, as they mocked the suf­frag­ists, and pushed for restric­tions on full free­dom of move­ment. “Whilst the 1890s saw dis­cours­es of mid­dle-class fem­i­nin­i­ty become rec­on­ciled with the notion of women on bicy­cles,” The Vic­to­ri­an Cyclist points out, “learn­ing to ride a bicy­cle required mid­dle-class women to care­ful­ly nav­i­gate their way through a set of high­ly con­ser­v­a­tive and rigid gen­der norms.”

Despite media efforts to tamp down or tame the rev­o­lu­tion­ary poten­tial of the bicy­cle for women, the mar­ket that made the machines saw no prob­lem with increas­ing sales. Bicy­cle poster art and adver­tis­ing from the turn of the 20th cen­tu­ry is dom­i­nat­ed by women cyclists, who are por­trayed as ordi­nary ram­blers about town, hip adven­tur­ers, ultra-mod­ern “New Women,” and, per­haps less pro­gres­sive­ly, nude god­dess­es. Whether we call it Gild­ed Age, Belle Epoque, or Fin de siè­cle, the end of the 19th cen­tu­ry pro­duced a trans­porta­tion rev­o­lu­tion that was also, through no par­tic­u­lar­ly con­scious design of the mak­ers of the bicy­cle, a rev­o­lu­tion in wom­en’s rights and thus human free­dom writ large.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Library of Con­gress Dig­i­tizes Over 16,000 Pages of Let­ters & Speech­es from the Women’s Suf­frage Move­ment, and You Can Help Tran­scribe Them

Odd Vin­tage Post­cards Doc­u­ment the Pro­pa­gan­da Against Women’s Rights 100 Years Ago

How Bicy­cles Can Rev­o­lu­tion­ize Our Lives: Case Stud­ies from the Unit­ed States, Nether­lands, Chi­na & Britain

The First 100 Years of the Bicy­cle: A 1915 Doc­u­men­tary Shows How the Bike Went from Its Clunky Birth in 1818, to Its Endur­ing Design in 1890

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

 

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How to Talk with a Conspiracy Theorist: What the Experts Recommend

Why do peo­ple pledge alle­giance to views that seem fun­da­men­tal­ly hos­tile to real­i­ty? Maybe believ­ers in shad­owy, evil forces and secret cabals fall prey to moti­vat­ed rea­son­ing. Truth for them is what they need to believe in order to get what they want. Their cer­tain­ty in the just­ness of a cause can feel as com­fort­ing as a warm blan­ket on a winter’s night. But con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries go far­ther than pri­vate delu­sions of grandeur. They have spilled into the streets, into the halls of the U.S. Capi­tol build­ing and var­i­ous state­hous­es. Con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries about a “stolen” 2020 elec­tion are out for blood.

As dis­tress­ing as such recent pub­lic spec­ta­cles seem at present, they hard­ly come near the harm accom­plished by pro­pa­gan­da like Plan­dem­ic—a short film that claims the COVID-19 cri­sis is a sin­is­ter plot—part of a wave of dis­in­for­ma­tion that has sent infec­tion and death rates soar­ing into the hun­dreds of thou­sands.

We may nev­er know the num­bers of peo­ple who have infect­ed oth­ers by refus­ing to take pre­cau­tions for them­selves, but we do know that the num­ber of peo­ple in the U.S. who believe con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries is alarm­ing­ly high.

A Pew Research sur­vey of adults in the U.S. “found that 36% thought that these con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries” about the elec­tion and the pan­dem­ic “were prob­a­bly or def­i­nite­ly true,” Tanya Basu writes at the MIT Tech­nol­o­gy Review. “Per­haps some of these peo­ple are your fam­i­ly, your friends, your neigh­bors.” Maybe you are con­spir­a­cy the­o­rist your­self. After all, “it’s very human and nor­mal to believe in con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries…. No one is above [them]—not even you.” We all resist facts, as Cass Sun­stein (author of Con­spir­a­cy The­o­ries and Oth­er Dan­ger­ous Ideas) says in the Vox video above, that con­tra­dict cher­ished beliefs and the com­mu­ni­ties of peo­ple who hold them.

So how do we dis­tin­guish between real­i­ty-based views and con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries if we’re all so prone to the lat­ter? Stan­dards of log­i­cal rea­son­ing and evi­dence still help sep­a­rate truth from false­hood in lab­o­ra­to­ries. When it comes to the human mind, emo­tions are just as impor­tant as data. “Con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries make peo­ple feel as though they have some sort of con­trol over the world,” says Daniel Romer, a psy­chol­o­gist and research direc­tor at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Pennsylvania’s Annen­berg Pub­lic Pol­i­cy Cen­ter. They’re air­tight, as Wired shows below, and it can be use­less to argue.

Basu spoke with experts like Romer and the mod­er­a­tors of Reddit’s r/ChangeMyView com­mu­ni­ty to find out how to approach oth­ers who hold beliefs that cause harm and have no basis in fact. The con­sen­sus rec­om­mends pro­ceed­ing with kind­ness, find­ing some com­mon ground, and apply­ing a degree of restraint, which includes drop­ping or paus­ing the con­ver­sa­tion if things get heat­ed. We need to rec­og­nize com­pet­ing moti­va­tions: “some peo­ple don’t want to change, no mat­ter the facts.”

Unreg­u­lat­ed emo­tions can and do under­mine our abil­i­ty to rea­son all the time. We can­not ignore or dis­miss them; they can be clear indi­ca­tions some­thing has gone wrong with our think­ing and per­haps with our men­tal and phys­i­cal health. We are all sub­ject­ed, though not equal­ly, to incred­i­ble amounts of height­ened stress under our cur­rent con­di­tions, which allows bad actors like the still-cur­rent U.S. Pres­i­dent to more eas­i­ly exploit uni­ver­sal human vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties and “weaponize moti­vat­ed rea­son­ing,” as Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia, Irvine social psy­chol­o­gist Peter Dit­to observes.

To help counter these ten­den­cies in some small way, we present the resources above. In Bill Nye’s Big Think answer to a video ques­tion from a view­er named Daniel, the long­time sci­ence com­mu­ni­ca­tor talks about the dis­com­fort of cog­ni­tive dis­so­nance. “The way to over­come that,” he says, is with the atti­tude, “we’re all in this togeth­er. Let’s learn about this togeth­er.”

We can per­haps best approach those who embrace harm­ful con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries by not imme­di­ate­ly telling them that we know more than they do. It’s a con­ver­sa­tion that requires some intel­lec­tu­al humil­i­ty and acknowl­edge­ment that change is hard and it feels real­ly scary not to know what’s going on. Below, see an abridged ver­sion of MIT Tech­nol­o­gy Review’s ten tips for rea­son­ing with a con­spir­a­cy the­o­rist, and read Basu’s full arti­cle here.

  1. Always, always speak respect­ful­ly: “With­out respect, com­pas­sion, and empa­thy, no one will open their mind or heart to you. No one will lis­ten.”
  2. Go pri­vate: Using direct mes­sages when online “pre­vents dis­cus­sion from get­ting embar­rass­ing for the poster, and it implies a gen­uine com­pas­sion and inter­est in con­ver­sa­tion rather than a desire for pub­lic sham­ing.”
  3. Test the waters first: “You can ask what it would take to change their mind, and if they say they will nev­er change their mind, then you should take them at their word and not both­er engag­ing.”
  4. Agree: “Con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries often fea­ture ele­ments that every­one can agree on.”
  5. Try the “truth sand­wich”: “Use the fact-fal­la­cy-fact approach, a method first pro­posed by lin­guist George Lakoff.”
  6. Or use the Socrat­ic method: This “chal­lenges peo­ple to come up with sources and defend their posi­tion them­selves.”
  7. Be very care­ful with loved ones: “Bit­ing your tongue and pick­ing your bat­tles can help your men­tal health.”
  8. Real­ize that some peo­ple don’t want to change, no mat­ter the facts.
  9. If it gets bad, stop: “One r/ChangeMyView mod­er­a­tor sug­gest­ed ‘IRL calm­ing down’: shut­ting off your phone or com­put­er and going for a walk.”
  10. Every lit­tle bit helps. “One con­ver­sa­tion will prob­a­bly not change a person’s mind, and that’s okay.”

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Con­stant­ly Wrong: Film­mak­er Kir­by Fer­gu­son Makes the Case Against Con­spir­a­cy The­o­ries

Neil Arm­strong Sets Straight an Inter­net Truther Who Accused Him of Fak­ing the Moon Land­ing (2000)

Michio Kaku & Noam Chom­sky School Moon Land­ing and 9/11 Con­spir­a­cy The­o­rists

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

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Social Psychologist Erich Fromm Diagnoses Why People Wear a Mask of Happiness in Modern Society (1977)

Mod­ern man still is anx­ious and tempt­ed to sur­ren­der his free­dom to dic­ta­tors of all kinds, or to lose it by trans­form­ing him­self into a small cog in the machine. —Erich Fromm

There are more think pieces pub­lished every day than any one per­son can read about our cur­rent moment of social dis­in­te­gra­tion. But we seem to have lost touch with the insights of social psy­chol­o­gy, a field that dom­i­nat­ed pop­u­lar intel­lec­tu­al dis­course in the post-war 20th cen­tu­ry, large­ly due to the influ­en­tial work of Ger­man exiles like Erich Fromm. The human­ist philoso­pher and psychologist’s “pre­scient 1941 trea­sure Escape from Free­dom,” writes Maria Popo­va, serves as what he called “‘a diag­no­sis rather than a prog­no­sis,’ writ­ten dur­ing humanity’s grimmest descent into mad­ness in WWII, lay­ing out the foun­da­tion­al ideas on which Fromm would lat­er draw in con­sid­er­ing the basis of a sane soci­ety,” the title of his 1955 study of alien­ation, con­for­mi­ty, and author­i­tar­i­an­ism.

Fromm “is an unjust­ly neglect­ed fig­ure,” Kier­an Durkin argues at Jacobin, “cer­tain­ly when com­pared with his erst­while Frank­furt School col­leagues, such as Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno.” But he has much to offer as a “ground­ed alter­na­tive” to their crit­i­cal the­o­ry, and his work “reveals a dis­tinct­ly more opti­mistic and hope­ful engage­ment with the ques­tion of rad­i­cal social change.” Nonethe­less, Fromm well under­stood that social dis­eases must be iden­ti­fied before they can be treat­ed, and he did not sug­ar­coat his diag­noses. Had soci­ety become more “sane” thir­ty-plus years after the war? Fromm didn’t think so.

In the 1977 inter­view clip above, Fromm defends his claim that “We live in a soci­ety of noto­ri­ous­ly unhap­py peo­ple,” which the inter­view­er calls an “incred­i­ble state­ment.” Fromm replies:

For me it isn’t incred­i­ble at all, but if you just open your eyes, you see it. That is, most peo­ple pre­tend that they are hap­py, even to them­selves, because if you are unhap­py, you are con­sid­ered a fail­ure, so you must wear the mask of being sat­is­fied, of hap­py.

Con­trast this obser­va­tion with Albert Camus’ 1959 state­ment, “Today hap­pi­ness is like a crime—nev­er admit it. Don’t say ‘I’m hap­py’ oth­er­wise you will hear con­dem­na­tion all around.” Were Fromm and Camus observ­ing vast­ly dif­fer­ent cul­tur­al worlds? Or is it pos­si­ble that in the inter­ven­ing years, forced hap­pi­ness—akin to the social­ly coerced emo­tions Camus depict­ed in The Stranger—had become nor­mal­ized, a screen of denial stretched over exis­ten­tial dread, eco­nom­ic exploita­tion, and social decay?

Fromm’s diag­no­sis of forced hap­pi­ness res­onates strong­ly with The Stranger (and Bil­lie Hol­i­day), and with the image-obsessed soci­ety in which we live most of our lives now, pre­sent­ing var­i­ous curat­ed per­son­ae on social media and video­con­fer­enc­ing apps. Unhap­pi­ness may be a byprod­uct of depres­sion, vio­lence, pover­ty, phys­i­cal ill­ness, social alien­ation… but its man­i­fes­ta­tions pro­duce even more of the same: “Them that’s got shall get / Them that’s not shall lose.” If you’re unhap­py, says Fromm, “you lose cred­it on the mar­ket, you’re no longer a nor­mal per­son or a capa­ble per­son. But you just have to look at peo­ple. You only have to see how behind the mask there is unrest.”

Have we learned how to look at peo­ple behind the mask? Is it pos­si­ble to do so when we most­ly inter­act with them from behind a screen? These are the kinds of ques­tions Fromm’s work can help us grap­ple with, if we’re will­ing to accept his diag­no­sis and tru­ly reck­on with our unhap­pi­ness.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Albert Camus Explains Why Hap­pi­ness Is Like Com­mit­ting a Crime—”You Should Nev­er Admit to it” (1959)

How Much Mon­ey Do You Need to Be Hap­py? A New Study Gives Us Some Exact Fig­ures

The UN’s World Hap­pi­ness Report Ranks “Social­ist Friend­ly” Coun­tries like Fin­land, Nor­way, Den­mark, Ice­land & Swe­den as Among the Hap­pi­est in the World

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

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