Search Results for "u"

Mad Magazine’s Al Jaffee & Other Cartoonists Create Animations to End Distracted Driving


Mod­el Ts were the aver­age American’s car of choice in 1921, when car­toon­ist Al Jaf­fee was born.

The father of MAD Mag­a­zine’s fold-ins was but sev­en when the T’s suc­ces­sor, the Mod­el A, was intro­duced.

It would be a long time before such inno­va­tions as seat belts, baby seats, and airbags were intro­duced. These safe­ty mea­sures do a fine job of min­i­miz­ing human dam­age in motor vehi­cle acci­dents, but they can’t pre­vent the col­li­sions them­selves.

To rem­e­dy this, Ford, the com­pa­ny respon­si­ble for the Mod­el T and hun­dreds of motor vehi­cles since, recent­ly enlist­ed Jaf­fee and his fel­low car­toon­ists, MK Brown and Bill Plymp­ton, to edu­cate the pub­lic on the dan­gers of dis­tract­ed dri­ving. Turns out this pre­ventable scourge rivals intox­i­ca­tion and haz­ardous road con­di­tions as a lead­ing cause of acci­dents.

Jaffee’s take, ani­mat­ed by J.J. Sedel­maier, above, will nev­er be mis­tak­en for film­mak­er Wern­er Her­zog’s har­row­ing anti-tex­ting doc­u­men­tary PSA, From One Sec­ond to the Next, or even Jaffee’s own anti-drunk dri­ving fold-in from MAD’s March 1975 issue.

Instead, he offers a gen­tle, child-friend­ly metaphor in which an uncaged bird becomes a hav­oc-wreak­ing dis­trac­tion. (For­tu­nate­ly, everyone’s wear­ing his seat­belt, and the lit­tle boy is rid­ing in back, in com­pli­ance with CDC rec­om­men­da­tions.)


Nation­al Lam­poon alum, Brown, tip­toes clos­er to the true caus­es of dis­trac­tion, with the alien-themed seg­ment, above, also ani­mat­ed by Sedel­maier. If it seems like­li­er that the alien’s earth­ling wife might do her hen­peck­ing via text rather than actu­al call these days—well, some­times dra­mat­ic lib­er­ties are war­rant­ed to get the mes­sage across.


Unsur­pris­ing­ly, Plympton’s self-ani­mat­ed con­tri­bu­tion is the most graph­ic, a direct descen­dent of his fab­u­lous­ly grotesque car­toon primers 25 Ways To Quit Smok­ing and How To Kiss. Moral? Assum­ing you want to keep your teeth in your head, the veg­etable mat­ter wedged in between can wait ’til you reach your des­ti­na­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wern­er Herzog’s Eye-Open­ing New Film Reveals the Dan­gers of Tex­ting While Dri­ving

Al Jaf­fee, the Longest Work­ing Car­toon­ist in His­to­ry, Shows How He Invent­ed the Icon­ic “Folds-Ins” for Mad Mag­a­zine

Read­ing While Dri­ving, Seri­ous­ly?

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky. Her plan for avoid­ing acci­dents is to refrain from dri­ving when­ev­er pos­si­ble. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Read More...

Ta-Nehisi Coates’ List of 13 Recommended Books

Ta-Nehisi Coates has been rid­ing a wave so high these past few years that most hon­est writ­ers would con­fess to at least some small degree of envy. And yet anyone—writer or reader—who appre­ci­ates Coates’ rig­or­ous schol­ar­ship, styl­is­tic mas­tery, and enthralling per­son­al voice must also admit that the acco­lades are well-earned. Win­ner of the Nation­al Book Award for his sec­ond auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal work, Between the World and Me and recip­i­ent of a MacArthur “Genius Grant,” Coates is fre­quent­ly called on to dis­cuss the seem­ing­ly intractable racism in the U.S., both its long, grit­ty his­to­ry and con­tin­u­a­tion into the present. (On top of these cre­den­tials, Coates, an unabashed com­ic book nerd, is now pen­ning the revived Black Pan­ther title for Mar­vel, cur­rent­ly the year’s best-sell­ing com­ic.)

As a senior edi­tor at The Atlantic, Coates became a nation­al voice for black Amer­i­ca with arti­cles on the para­dox­es of Barack Oba­ma’s pres­i­den­cy and the boot­straps con­ser­vatism of Bill Cos­by (pub­lished before the comedian’s pros­e­cu­tion). His arti­cle “The Case for Repa­ra­tions,” a lengthy, his­tor­i­cal exam­i­na­tion of Redlin­ing, brought him fur­ther into nation­al promi­nence. So high was Coates’ pro­file after his sec­ond book that Toni Mor­ri­son declared him the heir to James Baldwin’s lega­cy, a man­tle that has weighed heav­i­ly and sparked some back­lash, though Coates court­ed the com­par­i­son him­self by styling Between the World and Me after Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time. In doing so, writes Michael Eric Dyson, “Coates did a dar­ing thing… waged a bet that the Amer­i­can pub­lic could absorb even more of the epis­to­lary device, and wrote a book-length essay to his son.”

Not only did Amer­i­ca “absorb” the device; the nation’s read­ers mar­veled at Coates’ deft mix­ture of exis­ten­tial tough­ness and emo­tion­al vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty; his intense, unsen­ti­men­tal take on U.S. racist ani­mus and his mov­ing, lov­ing por­traits of his close friends and fam­i­ly. As a let­ter from a father to his son, the book also works as a teach­ing tool, and Coates lib­er­al­ly salts his per­son­al nar­ra­tive with the sources of his own edu­ca­tion in African Amer­i­can his­to­ry and pol­i­tics from his father and his years at Howard Uni­ver­si­ty. In the wake of the fame the book has brought him, he has con­tin­ued what he seems to view as a pub­lic mis­sion to edu­cate, and inter­views and dis­cus­sions with the writer fre­quent­ly involve digres­sions on his sources of infor­ma­tion, as well as the books that move and moti­vate him.

So it was when Coates sat down with New York Times Mag­a­zine and ProP­ub­li­ca reporter Nikole Han­nah-Jones at New York’s Schom­burg Cen­ter for Research in Black Cul­ture last year. You can watch the full inter­view at the top of the post. Dur­ing the course of the hour-long talk, Coates men­tioned the books below, in the hopes, he says, that “folks who read” Between the World and Me “will read this book, and then go read a ton of oth­er books.” He both began and end­ed his rec­om­men­da­tions with Bald­win.

1. “The Fire Next Time” in Col­lect­ed Essays by James Bald­win.

2. The Night of the Gun: A Reporter Inves­ti­gates the Dark­est Sto­ry of His Life, His Own by David Carr

3. The Half Has Nev­er Been Told: Slav­ery and the Mak­ing of Amer­i­can Cap­i­tal­ism by Edward E. Bap­tist

4. Bat­tle Cry of Free­dom: The Era of the Civ­il War by James McPher­son

5. Mak­ing the Sec­ond Ghet­to: Race and Hous­ing in Chica­go, 1940–1960 by Arnold R. Hirsch

6. Fam­i­ly Prop­er­ties: Race, Real Estate, and the Exploita­tion of Black Urban Amer­i­ca by Beryl Sat­ter

7. Con­fed­er­ate States of Amer­i­ca — Dec­la­ra­tion of the Imme­di­ate Caus­es Which Induce and Jus­ti­fy the Seces­sion of South Car­oli­na from the Fed­er­al Union from Aval­on Project, Lil­lian Gold­man Law Library, Yale Law School

8. Show­down: Thur­good Mar­shall and the Supreme Court nom­i­na­tion That Changed Amer­i­ca by Wil Hay­good

9. Amer­i­can Slav­ery, Amer­i­can Free­dom: The Ordeal of Colo­nial Vir­ginia by Edmund S. Mor­gan

10. Race­craft: The Soul of Inequal­i­ty in Amer­i­can Life by Karen E. Fields and Bar­bara J. Fields

11. When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in Amer­i­ca by Paula Gid­dings

12. Ida: A Sword Among Lions: Ida B. Wells and the Cam­paign against Lynch­ing by Paula J. Gid­dings

13. Out of the House of Bondage: The Trans­for­ma­tion of the Plan­ta­tion House­hold by Thavo­lia Glymph

Final­ly, Coates ref­er­ences the famous debate between James Bald­win and William F. Buck­ley at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty in 1965, which you can read about and watch in full here.

via The New York Pub­lic Library

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Toni Mor­ri­son Dis­pens­es Writ­ing Wis­dom in 1993 Paris Review Inter­view

James Bald­win Bests William F. Buck­ley in 1965 Debate at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty

Stephen King Cre­ates a List of 96 Books for Aspir­ing Writ­ers to Read

Ernest Hem­ing­way Cre­ates a Read­ing List for a Young Writer, 1934

Michael Stipe Rec­om­mends 10 Books for Any­one Marooned on a Desert Island

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

Read More...

Martin Scorsese Names His Top 10 Films in the Criterion Collection

“What do you do when you change how the world thinks of cin­e­ma? What’s next? Do you keep mak­ing the same kind of film? If you’re a per­son like Rosselli­ni, you try some­thing exper­i­men­tal. You push fur­ther. Not exper­i­men­tal for exper­i­men­t’s sake, but you push the bound­aries fur­ther.” With these words, Mar­tin Scors­ese describes the sit­u­a­tion of Rober­to Rosselli­ni, one of his pre­de­ces­sors in film­mak­ing he most admires, after com­plet­ing Paisan in 1946. Where to take the move­ment “Ital­ian neo­re­al­ism” from there?

Scors­ese dis­cuss­es Rossellini’s next three major films, Strom­boli, Europe ’51, and Jour­ney to Italy in this Con­ver­sa­tions Inside the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion inter­view clip from Vice. Giv­en his pos­ses­sion of an enthu­si­asm for cin­e­ma as strong as his mas­tery of the craft of cin­e­ma (mak­ing him a pre­de­ces­sor of such younger Amer­i­can indie-root­ed cinephile-auteurs as Quentin Taran­ti­no and Wes Ander­son), it makes sense that Scors­ese would want to engage with the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion, whose painstak­ing­ly-pro­duced video releas­es of respect­ed films have for decades con­sti­tut­ed a kind of film school, infor­mal yet rich and rig­or­ous.

When Cri­te­ri­on, whose cat­a­log includes Scors­ese’s own The Last Temp­ta­tion of Christ, asked the direc­tor to name his ten favorite films in the Col­lec­tion, he began with a paean to Paisan. (Note: You can watch Paisan for free if you start a free tri­al with Hulu. Also watch Fellini’s 8 1/2–list­ed below–free on Hulu here.) “I saw it for the first time on tele­vi­sion with my grand­par­ents, and their over­whelm­ing reac­tion to what had hap­pened to their home­land since they left at the turn of the cen­tu­ry was just as present and vivid for me as the images and the char­ac­ters,” he said. “I was expe­ri­enc­ing the pow­er of cin­e­ma itself, in this case made far beyond Hol­ly­wood, under extreme­ly tough con­di­tions and with infe­ri­or equip­ment. And I was also see­ing that cin­e­ma wasn’t just about the movie itself but the rela­tion­ship between the movie and its audi­ence.”

Here are Scors­ese’s nine oth­er Cri­te­ri­on selec­tions:

  • The Red Shoes (Michael Pow­ell and Emer­ic Press­burg­er) “There’s no oth­er pic­ture that dra­ma­tizes and visu­al­izes the over­whelm­ing obses­sion of art, the way it can take over your life. But on a deep­er lev­el, in the move­ment and ener­gy of the film­mak­ing itself, is a deep and abid­ing love of art, a belief in art as a gen­uine­ly tran­scen­dent state.”
  • The Riv­er (Jean Renoir) “This was Jean Renoir’s first pic­ture after his Amer­i­can peri­od, his first in col­or, and he used Rumer Godden’s auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal nov­el to cre­ate a film that is, real­ly, about life, a film with­out a real sto­ry that is all about the rhythm of exis­tence, the cycles of birth and death and regen­er­a­tion, and the tran­si­to­ry beau­ty of the world.”
  • Uget­su (Ken­ji Mizoguchi) “The boat slow­ly mate­ri­al­iz­ing from out of the mist and com­ing toward us… Gen­juro col­laps­ing on the grass in ecsta­sy and being smoth­ered by Lady Wakasa… the final crane up from the son mak­ing an offer­ing at his mother’s grave to the fields beyond. Just to think of these moments now fills me with awe and won­der.”
  • Ash­es and Dia­monds (Andrzej Wada) “I saw Ash­es and Dia­monds for the first time in 1961. And even back then, dur­ing that peri­od when we expect­ed to be aston­ished at the movies, when things were hap­pen­ing all over the world, it shocked me. It had to do with the look, both imme­di­ate and haunt­ed, like a night­mare that won’t stop unfold­ing.”
  • L’avven­tu­ra (Michelan­ge­lo Anto­nioni) “It’s dif­fi­cult to think of a film that has a more pow­er­ful under­stand­ing of the way that peo­ple are bound to the world around them, by what they see and touch and taste and hear. I real­ize that L’avventura is sup­posed to be about char­ac­ters who are ‘alien­at­ed’ from their sur­round­ings, but that word has been used so often to describe this film and Antonioni’s films in gen­er­al that it more or less shuts down thought.”
  • Sal­va­tore Giu­liano (Francesco Rosi) “On one lev­el, it’s an extreme­ly com­plex film: there’s no cen­tral pro­tag­o­nist (Giu­liano him­self is not a char­ac­ter but a fig­ure around which the action piv­ots), and it shifts between time frames and points of view. But it’s also a pic­ture made from the inside, from a pro­found and last­ing love and under­stand­ing of Sici­ly and its peo­ple and the treach­ery and cor­rup­tion they’ve had to endure.”
  • 8 1/2 (Fed­eri­co Felli­ni) “8½ has always been a touch­stone for me, in so many ways—the free­dom, the sense of inven­tion, the under­ly­ing rig­or and the deep core of long­ing, the bewitch­ing, phys­i­cal pull of the cam­era move­ments and the com­po­si­tions (anoth­er great black-and-white film: every image gleams like a pearl — again, shot by Gian­ni Di Venan­zo). But it also offers an uncan­ny por­trait of being the artist of the moment, try­ing to tune out all the pres­sure and the crit­i­cism and the adu­la­tion and the requests and the advice, and find the space and the calm to sim­ply lis­ten to one­self.”
  • Con­tempt (Jean-Luc Godard) “It’s a shat­ter­ing por­trait of a mar­riage going wrong, and it cuts very deep, espe­cial­ly dur­ing the lengthy and jus­ti­fi­ably famous scene between Pic­coli and Bar­dot in their apart­ment: even if you don’t know that Godard’s own mar­riage to Anna Kari­na was com­ing apart at the time, you can feel it in the action, the move­ment of the scenes, the inter­ac­tions that stretch out so painful­ly but majes­ti­cal­ly, like a piece of trag­ic music.”
  • The Leop­ard (Luchi­no Vis­con­ti) “Time itself is the pro­tag­o­nist of The Leop­ard: the cos­mic scale of time, of cen­turies and epochs, on which the prince mus­es; Sicil­ian time, in which days and nights stretch to infin­i­ty; and aris­to­crat­ic time, in which noth­ing is ever rushed and every­thing hap­pens just as it should hap­pen, as it has always hap­pened.”

For Scors­ese’s full com­men­tary on all ten of these pic­tures, see the arti­cle on Cri­te­ri­on’s site. The direc­tors of his favorite Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion films all changed how the world thinks of cin­e­ma in one way or anoth­er, at dif­fer­ent times, in dif­fer­ent places, and in dif­fer­ent ways. Scors­ese, too, has changed how the world thinks of cin­e­ma, arguably more than once in his career — and giv­en his pen­chant for try­ing new things, avoid­ing that tread­mill where you “keep mak­ing the same film,” he may well make anoth­er movie that changes it again. And if he does, here’s anoth­er impor­tant ques­tion: what spe­cial fea­tures will Cri­te­ri­on include when they put out their deluxe edi­tion?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free on Hulu: Stream Fellini’s 8 1/2, La Stra­da & Oth­er Clas­sic & Con­tem­po­rary Films

Mar­tin Scors­ese Reveals His 12 Favorite Movies (and Writes a New Essay on Film Preser­va­tion)

Mar­tin Scors­ese Makes a List of 85 Films Every Aspir­ing Film­mak­er Needs to See

Mar­tin Scors­ese Intro­duces Film­mak­er Hong Sang­soo, “The Woody Allen of Korea”

Mar­tin Scors­ese Cre­ates a List of 39 Essen­tial For­eign Films for a Young Film­mak­er

Mar­tin Scors­ese Names the 11 Scari­est Hor­ror Films: Kubrick, Hitch­cock, Tourneur & More

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

Read More...

Alejandro Jodorowsky’s 82 Commandments For Living

Utopiales_2011_Alejandro_Jodorowsky_16

Cre­ative Com­mons pho­to by Lionel Allorge

If you’re a fan of sci­ence fic­tion or the films of David Lynch, you’ve sure­ly seen the 1984 film adap­ta­tion of Frank Herbert’s cult clas­sic sci-fi nov­el, Dune (though Lynch him­self may pre­fer that you didn’t). And indeed, it’s very like­ly that, by now, you’ve heard the incred­i­ble sto­ry of what Dune might have been, had it been direct­ed ten years ear­li­er by psy­che­del­ic Chilean film­mak­er, writer, com­pos­er, and psy­chother­a­pist Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky. Per­haps you even caught Jonathan Crow’s post on this site fea­tur­ing Jodorowsky’s pro­posed storyboards—drawn by French artist Moebius—for what would most cer­tain­ly would have been “a mind-bog­gling­ly grand epic” of a movie. Alas, Jodorowsky’s Dune nev­er came about, though it did lat­er lead to the doc­u­men­tary Jodorowsky’s Dune, which Matt Zoller Seitz pro­nounced “a call to arms for dream­ers every­where.”

That descrip­tion applies not only to the film about a film that could have been, but also to the entire­ty of Jodorowsky’s work, includ­ing his—thoroughly bizarre and captivating—early fea­tures, El Topo and The Holy Moun­tain, and the cre­ation of a com­ic book uni­verse like no oth­er. Called “The Jodoverse,” the world of his com­ic books is, as writer War­ren Ellis says, “aston­ish­ing­ly beau­ti­ful and total­ly mad”—again, a suc­cinct descrip­tion of Jodorowsky’s every artis­tic endeav­or. Wit­ness below, for exam­ple, the stun­ning trail­er for his most recent fea­ture film, 2014’s The Dance of Real­i­ty. You may find the visu­al excess­es so over­whelm­ing that you only half-hear the nar­ra­tion.

Lis­ten (or read) care­ful­ly, how­ev­er. Jodor­owsky has as much to tell us with his cryp­ti­cal­ly poet­ic pro­nounce­ments as he does with his vision­ary imagery. Do you find his epi­grams plat­i­tudi­nous, sen­ten­tious, Pollyan­naish, or naïve? Jodor­owsky doesn’t mind. He calls, remem­ber, to the dream­ers, not the hard-bit­ten, cyn­i­cal real­ists. And if you’re one of the dream­ers who hears that call, you’ll find much to love in the list below of Jodorowsky’s 82 Com­mand­ments for liv­ing. But so too, I think, will the real­ists. These come from Jodorowsky’s mem­oir The Spir­i­tu­al Jour­ney of Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky, and the list comes via Dan­ger­ous Minds, who adapt­ed it from “the bet­ter part of three pages” of text.

As Jodor­owsky frames these max­ims in his book, they orig­i­nat­ed with influ­en­tial Russ­ian mys­tic George Gur­d­ji­eff, and were told to him by Gurdjieff’s daugh­ter, Rey­na d’Assia. Per­haps that’s so. But you’ll note, if you know Jodorowsky’s writing—or sim­ply took a cou­ple min­utes time to watch the trail­er above—that they sound enough like the author’s own words to have been brought forth from his per­son­al store­house of accu­mu­lat­ed wis­dom. In any case, Jodor­owsky has always been quick to acknowl­edge his spir­i­tu­al teach­ers, and whether these are his sec­ond-hand accounts of Gur­d­ji­eff or his own inven­tions has no bear­ing on the sub­stance there­in.

Often sound­ing very much like Bib­li­cal proverbs or Bud­dhist pre­cepts, the com­mand­ments are intend­ed, d’Assia says in Jodorowsky’s account, to help us “change [our] habits, con­quer lazi­ness, and become… moral­ly sound human being[s].” As she remarks in the book, before she deliv­ers the below in a lengthy mono­logue, “to be strong in the great things, we must also be strong in the small ones.” There­fore…

  1. Ground your atten­tion on your­self. Be con­scious at every moment of what you are think­ing, sens­ing, feel­ing, desir­ing, and doing.
  2. Always fin­ish what you have begun.
  3. What­ev­er you are doing, do it as well as pos­si­ble.
  4. Do not become attached to any­thing that can destroy you in the course of time.
  5. Devel­op your gen­eros­i­ty ‒ but secret­ly.
  6. Treat every­one as if he or she was a close rel­a­tive.
  7. Orga­nize what you have dis­or­ga­nized.
  8. Learn to receive and give thanks for every gift.
  9. Stop defin­ing your­self.
  10. Do not lie or steal, for you lie to your­self and steal from your­self.
  11. Help your neigh­bor, but do not make him depen­dent.
  12. Do not encour­age oth­ers to imi­tate you.
  13. Make work plans and accom­plish them.
  14. Do not take up too much space.
  15. Make no use­less move­ments or sounds.
  16. If you lack faith, pre­tend to have it.
  17. Do not allow your­self to be impressed by strong per­son­al­i­ties.
  18. Do not regard any­one or any­thing as your pos­ses­sion.
  19. Share fair­ly.
  20. Do not seduce.
  21. Sleep and eat only as much as nec­es­sary.
  22. Do not speak of your per­son­al prob­lems.
  23. Do not express judg­ment or crit­i­cism when you are igno­rant of most of the fac­tors involved.
  24. Do not estab­lish use­less friend­ships.
  25. Do not fol­low fash­ions.
  26. Do not sell your­self.
  27. Respect con­tracts you have signed.
  28. Be on time.
  29. Nev­er envy the luck or suc­cess of any­one.
  30. Say no more than nec­es­sary.
  31. Do not think of the prof­its your work will engen­der.
  32. Nev­er threat­en any­one.
  33. Keep your promis­es.
  34. In any dis­cus­sion, put your­self in the oth­er person’s place.
  35. Admit that some­one else may be supe­ri­or to you.
  36. Do not elim­i­nate, but trans­mute.
  37. Con­quer your fears, for each of them rep­re­sents a cam­ou­flaged desire.
  38. Help oth­ers to help them­selves.
  39. Con­quer your aver­sions and come clos­er to those who inspire rejec­tion in you.
  40. Do not react to what oth­ers say about you, whether praise or blame.
  41. Trans­form your pride into dig­ni­ty.
  42. Trans­form your anger into cre­ativ­i­ty.
  43. Trans­form your greed into respect for beau­ty.
  44. Trans­form your envy into admi­ra­tion for the val­ues of the oth­er.
  45. Trans­form your hate into char­i­ty.
  46. Nei­ther praise nor insult your­self.
  47. Regard what does not belong to you as if it did belong to you.
  48. Do not com­plain.
  49. Devel­op your imag­i­na­tion.
  50. Nev­er give orders to gain the sat­is­fac­tion of being obeyed.
  51. Pay for ser­vices per­formed for you.
  52. Do not pros­e­ly­tize your work or ideas.
  53. Do not try to make oth­ers feel for you emo­tions such as pity, admi­ra­tion, sym­pa­thy, or com­plic­i­ty.
  54. Do not try to dis­tin­guish your­self by your appear­ance.
  55. Nev­er con­tra­dict; instead, be silent.
  56. Do not con­tract debts; acquire and pay imme­di­ate­ly.
  57. If you offend some­one, ask his or her par­don; if you have offend­ed a per­son pub­licly, apol­o­gize pub­licly.
  58. When you real­ize you have said some­thing that is mis­tak­en, do not per­sist in error through pride; instead, imme­di­ate­ly retract it.
  59. Nev­er defend your old ideas sim­ply because you are the one who expressed them.
  60. Do not keep use­less objects.
  61. Do not adorn your­self with exot­ic ideas.
  62. Do not have your pho­to­graph tak­en with famous peo­ple.
  63. Jus­ti­fy your­self to no one, and keep your own coun­sel.
  64. Nev­er define your­self by what you pos­sess.
  65. Nev­er speak of your­self with­out con­sid­er­ing that you might change.
  66. Accept that noth­ing belongs to you.
  67. When some­one asks your opin­ion about some­thing or some­one, speak only of his or her qual­i­ties.
  68. When you become ill, regard your ill­ness as your teacher, not as some­thing to be hat­ed.
  69. Look direct­ly, and do not hide your­self.
  70. Do not for­get your dead, but accord them a lim­it­ed place and do not allow them to invade your life.
  71. Wher­ev­er you live, always find a space that you devote to the sacred.
  72. When you per­form a ser­vice, make your effort incon­spic­u­ous.
  73. If you decide to work to help oth­ers, do it with plea­sure.
  74. If you are hes­i­tat­ing between doing and not doing, take the risk of doing.
  75. Do not try to be every­thing to your spouse; accept that there are things that you can­not give him or her but which oth­ers can.
  76. When some­one is speak­ing to an inter­est­ed audi­ence, do not con­tra­dict that per­son and steal his or her audi­ence.
  77. Live on mon­ey you have earned.
  78. Nev­er brag about amorous adven­tures.
  79. Nev­er glo­ri­fy your weak­ness­es.
  80. Nev­er vis­it some­one only to pass the time.
  81. Obtain things in order to share them.
  82. If you are med­i­tat­ing and a dev­il appears, make the dev­il med­i­tate too.

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Moe­bius’ Sto­ry­boards & Con­cept Art for Jodorowsky’s Dune

Mœbius & Jodorowsky’s Sci-Fi Mas­ter­piece, The Incal, Brought to Life in a Tan­ta­liz­ing Ani­ma­tion

Moe­bius Gives 18 Wis­dom-Filled Tips to Aspir­ing Artists (1996)

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

Read More...

The Alchemy of Film Editing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Hannah and Her Sisters, The Empire Strikes Back & Other Films

Writ­ing, cast­ing, shoot­ing — all impor­tant parts of the film­mak­ing process, but the real mak­ing of a movie hap­pens, so they say, in the edit­ing room. Though often film edi­tors them­selves, “they” have a point: even movie­go­ers unfa­mil­iar with the mechan­ics of edit­ing can sense that, when some­thing feels right onscreen, and even more so when some­thing feels wrong, it has to do less with the pieces them­selves than how those pieces have been put togeth­er.

“There’s an inbuilt rela­tion­ship between the sto­ry itself, how to tell the sto­ry, and the rhythm with which you tell it,” says famed edi­tor Wal­ter Murch, known for his work with Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la on the God­fa­ther tril­o­gy and Apoc­a­lypse Now, “and edit­ing is sev­en­ty per­cent about rhythm.” Twen­ty years ago, in his book In the Blink of an Eye, Murch shed light on how an edi­tor works. Now, cin­e­ma video essay­ist Tony Zhou has con­tin­ued that mis­sion with a new episode of his series Every Frame a Paint­ing, “How Does an Edi­tor Think and Feel?”

Zhou’s cho­sen medi­um places him well to address the ques­tion, since each video essay must require at least as much time spent edit­ing as think­ing about film in the first place. Still, asked by a friend how he knows where to cut, he can come up with only this unsat­is­fy­ing answer: “Like a lot of edi­tors, I cut based on instinct.” As to what exact­ly con­sti­tutes that edi­tor’s instinct, Zhou spends the bulk of this ten-minute essay search­ing for answers him­self, exam­in­ing the cuts in pic­tures like Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, In the Mood for Love, The Empire Strikes Back, Tam­popo, Only Angels Have Wings, Pier­rot le Fou, and All That Jazz.

He also turns to the words of edi­tors with decades of expe­ri­ence in the game, includ­ing fre­quent Steven Spiel­berg col­lab­o­ra­tor Michael Kahn, fre­quent Mar­tin Scors­ese col­lab­o­ra­tor Thel­ma Schoon­mak­er, and even Murch him­self. But ulti­mate­ly, no mat­ter how much wis­dom about tim­ing, emo­tions, ten­sion, and rhythm you col­lect, you’ve got to sit down in the edit­ing suite and go it alone. “If you watch any­thing over and over again,” Zhou says, “you even­tu­al­ly feel the moment when the shot wants you to cut.” If this seems like an over­whelm­ing task, espe­cial­ly giv­en hun­dreds of thou­sands of hours of footage an edi­tor will work through in a career, do keep Kah­n’s sim­ple words in mind: “I see all that film up there — it does­n’t mat­ter. I’m doing one piece at a time. One scene at a time. One cut at a time.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Every Frame a Paint­ing Explains the Film­mak­ing Tech­niques of Mar­tin Scors­ese, Jack­ie Chan, and Even Michael Bay

Alfred Hitchcock’s 7‑Minute Mas­ter Class on Film Edit­ing

The Dark Knight: Anato­my of a Flawed Action Scene

The Wiz­ard of Oz Bro­ken Apart and Put Back Togeth­er in Alpha­bet­i­cal Order

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

Read More...

Monty Python’s Philosopher’s Football Match: The Epic Showdown Between the Greeks & Germans (1972)

Last year, we wit­nessed a very tense, unpleas­ant show­down between Ger­many and Greece as the top­most nation in the Euro­pean Union drove its most indebt­ed coun­try to make painful, per­haps pun­ish­ing com­pro­mis­es. In one analy­sis of this hard-to-watch eco­nom­ic humiliation—for Greece, that is—The Wash­ing­ton Post made use of a much more light­heart­ed con­test between the two coun­tries, one in which Greece emerged the vic­tor after scor­ing the only goal of the match.

The soc­cer match, that is, or, if you must, football—played between Ger­man and Greek philoso­phers in 1972 and staged by Mon­ty Python. On one side, Hegel, Leib­niz, Kant, Marx, Niet­zsche, Wittgen­stein, and more (includ­ing actu­al foot­baller Franz Beck­en­bauer, a “sur­prise inclu­sion”)… on the oth­er, Socrates, Archimedes, Her­a­cli­tus, Pla­to, Dem­ocri­tus, Epicte­tus, etc…. On the side­lines of this show­down between West­ern schools of thought, Con­fu­cius served as the ref­er­ee. Even after that sin­gle goal, scored after two full halves of mean­der­ing, the two teams came into conflict—in heat­ed argu­ments about the nature of exis­tence….

I won’t con­tin­ue to bore you by explain­ing the gags—watch the sketch above. It’s great fun, if by some chance you haven’t seen it, and great fun to watch again if you have.

Filmed at the Grün­walder Sta­dion in Munich (pre­sum­ably giv­ing the Ger­mans home field advan­tage), the sketch, Ter­ry Jones recalled many years lat­er, is about the “clash of oppo­sites.” No, not the two Euro­pean coun­tries, but the oppo­sites of sports and intel­lec­tu­al exer­cise. “You can’t think about foot­ball too much,” said Jones, “you just have to do it.” This proves chal­leng­ing for our deep thinkers.

Why foot­ball? Because it’s “a team activ­i­ty,” Jones answered, “which phi­los­o­phy, as a gen­er­al rule, isn’t.” Well, most­ly. The Pythons weren’t the first to make the “incon­gru­ous” con­nec­tion. Albert Camus played the game, as a goal­keep­er, and played it quite well by all accounts. He once wrote, “all I know most sure­ly about moral­i­ty and oblig­a­tions, I owe to foot­ball.”

The injunc­tion to “just do it” wouldn’t present too much of a chal­lenge for an exis­ten­tial­ist, one would think. Philoso­pher Julian Bag­gi­ni puts the Pythons firm­ly in that school of thought, their take on it a “coher­ent, Anglo-Sax­on” one. Indeed, like Camus, the British come­di­ans rec­og­nized the absur­di­ty of life, and showed us that “the right response is to laugh at it.” They also showed us that phi­los­o­phy could be hilar­i­ous, and made a clas­sic sketch aca­d­e­mics could use to refute charges they’re a dour, humor­less lot.

It should come as no sur­prise that the Python “most inter­est­ed in the sub­ject” of phi­los­o­phy and com­e­dy was John Cleese—whom we’ve fea­tured here many times for his tal­ents in com­bin­ing the two. Cleese, writes Bag­gi­ni, is “on record as say­ing that com­e­dy and deep thought can go hand in hand. ‘You and I could talk about the mean­ing of life, or edu­ca­tion, or mar­riage,’ Cleese once told a jour­nal­ist, ‘and we could be laugh­ing a lot, and it doesn’t mean that what we’re talk­ing about isn’t seri­ous.’”

Inspired by the Pythons’ serio-com­ic love of learn­ing, Bag­gi­ni, and oth­er philoso­phers like A.C. Grayling and Nigel War­bur­ton, along with come­di­ans, his­to­ri­ans, and jour­nal­ists, decid­ed to restage the Ger­many-Greek match in 2010. Where the Pythons indi­rect­ly boost­ed intel­lec­tu­al pur­suits in the course of mock­ing them, the par­tic­i­pants in this “game”—such as it was—explicitly sought to pro­mote “Rea­son­ing,” the “fourth R” in “Read­ing, W®iting, and A®ithmetic.”

See them bum­ble around on the pitch here and gen­er­al­ly have a good time mak­ing philo­soph­i­cal fools of them­selves to the strains of Mon­ty Python’s row­dy anthem “The Philoso­pher’s Song.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python Sings “The Philosopher’s Song,” Reveal­ing the Drink­ing Habits of Great Euro­pean Thinkers

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

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Re-Imag­ined as an Epic, Main­stream Hol­ly­wood Film

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

Read More...

Al Jaffee, the Longest Working Cartoonist in History, Shows How He Invented the Iconic “Folds-Ins” for Mad Magazine

Keep copy­ing those Sun­day fun­nies, kids, and one day you may beat Al Jaf­fee’s record to become the Longest Work­ing Car­toon­ist in His­to­ry.

You’ll need to take extra good care of your health, giv­en that the Guin­ness Book of World Records noti­fied Jaf­fee, above, of his hon­orif­ic on his 95th birth­day.

Much of his leg­endary career has been spent at Mad Mag­a­zine, where he is best known as the father of Fold-ins.

Con­ceived of as the satir­i­cal inverse of the expen­sive-to-pro­duce, 4‑color cen­ter­folds that were a sta­ple of glossier mags, the first Fold-In spoofed pub­lic per­cep­tion of actress Eliz­a­beth Tay­lor as a man-eater. Jaffe had fig­ured it as a one-issue gag, but edi­tor Al Feld­stein had oth­er ideas, demand­ing an imme­di­ate fol­low up for the June 1964 issue.

Jaffe oblig­ed with the Richard Nixon Fold-in, which set the tone for the oth­er 450 he has hand ren­dered in sub­se­quent issues.

Al Jaffee Mad

For those who made it to adult­hood with­out the sin­gu­lar plea­sure of creas­ing Mad’s back cov­er, you can dig­i­tal­ly fold-in a few sam­ples using this nifty inter­ac­tive fea­ture, cour­tesy of The New York Times.

With all due respect, it’s not the same, just enough to give a feel for the thrill of draw­ing the out­er­most pan­el in to reveal the visu­al punch­line lurk­ing with­in the larg­er pic­ture. The print edi­tion demands pre­ci­sion fold­ing on the reader’s part, if one is to get a sat­is­fac­to­ry answer to the rhetor­i­cal text posed at the out­set.

Jaffe must be even more pre­cise in his cal­cu­la­tions. In an inter­view with Sean Edgar of Paste Mag­a­zine, he described how he turned a Repub­li­can pri­ma­ry stage shared by Nel­son Rock­e­feller and Bar­ry Gold­wa­ter into a sur­prise por­trait of the man who would become pres­i­dent five years hence:

The first thing I did was draw Richard Nixon’s face, not in great detail, just a very rough estab­lish­ment of where the eyes, nose and mouth would be, and the gen­er­al shape. I did an exag­ger­at­ed car­i­ca­ture of Nixon and then I cut it in half, and moved it apart. Once the face was cut in half, it didn’t have the integri­ty of a face any­more — it was sort of a half of face. Then I looked at what the eyes were like, and I said, ‘what can I make out of the eyes?’ He had these heavy eye­brows. I played around with many things, but I had to keep in mind all the time what the big pic­ture was. So there they (Gold­wa­ter and Rock­e­feller) were up on a stage some­where, doing a debate, and I thought, ‘What kind of stage prop can I put along­side these guys that would seem nat­ur­al there?’ I decid­ed that I could make eyes out of the lamps, and as far as the nose was con­cerned, that could come out of the fig­ures — their cloth­ing. Then I fig­ured the mouth; I could use some sort of table that could give me those two sides. That’s how it all came about. You have to have some kind of visu­al imag­i­na­tion to see the pos­si­bil­i­ties. I had to con­cen­trate on stuff that looked nat­ur­al on a stage.

Each Fold-In is a reflec­tion of the zeit­geist. Past pre­oc­cu­pa­tions have includ­ed Viet­nam, fem­i­nism, ille­gal drug use and, more recent­ly, the Jer­sey Shore.

via Gothamist

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Gallery of Mad Magazine’s Rol­lick­ing Fake Adver­tise­ments from the 1960s

Watch Mad Magazine’s Edgy, Nev­er-Aired TV Spe­cial (1974)

A Look Inside Char­lie Heb­do, Their Cre­ative Process & the Mak­ing of a Fate­ful Car­toon

Chuck Jones’ 9 Rules For Draw­ing Road Run­ner Car­toons, or How to Cre­ate a Min­i­mal­ist Mas­ter­piece

Car­toon­ists Draw Their Famous Car­toon Char­ac­ters While Blind­fold­ed (1947)

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

Read More...

Edward Snowden & Jean-Michel Jarre Record a Techno Protest Song, “Exit”

For his new album, Elec­tron­i­ca Vol­ume II: The Heart Of Noise, Jean-Michel Jarre, a pio­neer in elec­tron­ic and ambi­ent music, col­lab­o­rat­ed on a record­ing with Edward Snow­den, the for­mer CIA com­put­er ana­lyst-turned-whistle­blow­er. Cue up their song, “Exit,” above.

At first glance, it per­haps seems like an unlike­ly pair­ing. But if you give Jarre, the son of a French resis­tance fight­er, a chance to explain, it all makes per­fect sense. Recent­ly, he told The Guardian:

The whole Elec­tron­i­ca project is about the ambigu­ous rela­tion­ship we have with tech­nol­o­gy: on the one side we have the world in our pock­et, on on the oth­er, we are spied on con­stant­ly. There are tracks about the erot­ic rela­tion­ship we have with tech­nol­o­gy, the way we touch our smart­phones more than our part­ners, about CCTV sur­veil­lance, about love in the age of Tin­dr. It seemed quite appro­pri­ate to col­lab­o­rate not with a musi­cian but some­one who lit­er­al­ly sym­bol­is­es this crazy rela­tion­ship we have with tech­nol­o­gy.

A lot of what Jarre and Snow­den were try­ing to accom­plish with the song–musically, con­cep­tu­al­ly, ide­o­log­i­cal­ly, etc.–gets explained in the video below. Lis­ten­ing to Snow­den talk about the mean­ing of the song’s title (“Exit” means “things have to change,” “it’s time to leave, it’s time to do some­thing else, it’s time to find a bet­ter way”), you’ll get the sense that “Exit” is an elec­tron­ic protest song befit­ting our dig­i­tal age. Out with the folk music, in with the tech­no.

Elec­tron­i­ca Vol­ume II: The Heart Of Noise also fea­tures songs with the Pet Shop Boys, Gary Numan and the rap­per Peach­es.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Whistle­blow­ing Is Not Just Leak­ing — It’s an Act of Polit­i­cal Resis­tance. Read Snow­den’s first long form essay, released just last week.

Recall­ing Albert Camus’ Fash­ion Advice, Noam Chom­sky Pans Glenn Greenwald’s Shiny, Pur­ple Tie

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

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

How the Moog Syn­the­siz­er Changed the Sound of Music

Read More...

7 Tips for Reading More Books in a Year

kleon reading tips

On Twit­ter, Austin Kleon, author of Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Cre­ative has served up 7 tips for achiev­ing the seem­ing­ly impossible–getting more books read in this age of con­stant dis­trac­tion. The tips are sim­ple and effective–effective enough to help Austin read 70+ books dur­ing a year, a new per­son­al record.

No doubt, you have your own strate­gies for spend­ing more time with books (and not just watch­ing them pile up, unread, on your shelves. There’s a word for that in Japan­ese folks. It’s called “Tsun­doku.”) If you care to share them, please put your best tips in the com­ments sec­tion below. We, and your fel­low read­ers, thank you in advance.

Look­ing for free, pro­fes­sion­al­ly-read audio books from Audible.com? (Speak­ing of an easy way to spend more time with books.) Here’s a great, no-strings-attached deal. If you start a 30 day free tri­al with Audible.com, you can down­load two free audio books of your choice. Get more details on the offer here. Also note that Audibooks.com has a very sim­i­lar offer that you can explore here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Spike Jonze Presents a Stop Motion Film for Book Lovers

Books Savored in Stop Motion Film

“Tsun­doku,” the Japan­ese Word for the New Books That Pile Up on Our Shelves, Should Enter the Eng­lish Lan­guage

Read More...

Artificial Intelligence Creativity Machine Learns to Play Beethoven in the Style of The Beatles’ “Penny Lane”

It is the end of term this week and my film pro­duc­tion stu­dents asked me to name my favorite part of film­mak­ing. I told them it’s direct­ing, as it’s some­thing I so rarely get to do (com­pared to writ­ing) yet so involv­ing that an entire day goes by in a flash. Regard­less, I always pop out the oth­er side know­ing I was at my absolute cre­ative best. I was in the “zone” or as Mihaly Csik­szent­mi­ha­lyi called it in 1990, “the flow state.” And in a won­der­ful bit of syn­chronic­i­ty, not a lit­tle while lat­er, I have been charged with pre­sent­ing to you this exam­ple of arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence (AI) cre­ativ­i­ty. It sim­i­lar­ly uses this under­stand­ing of the flow state to cre­ate.

In the above video, the Flow Machine devel­oped by François Pachet at Sony CSL-Paris has been fed Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”, and then asked to orches­trate “cov­er ver­sions” fol­low­ing the rules set down by a genre–say bossa nova or elec­tron­ic chill music–or a song itself, in this case being the Bea­t­les’ “Pen­ny Lane.”

Pre­vi­ous attempts to cre­ate ran­dom com­put­er music have result­ed in exact­ly that–random notes, drawn from a selec­tion deter­mined by a pro­gram­mer. But that isn’t how cre­ativ­i­ty works. When we cre­ate, we under­stand our para­me­ters already, sub­con­scious­ly, and not only that, we know what we and oth­ers have done before, what “push­es the enve­lope” com­pared to using a com­plete­ly wrong ele­ment, and what makes our own cre­ativ­i­ty unique. (If we dis­cov­er it and empha­size the lat­ter over and over, it’s called style.)

The Flow Machine project aims to under­stand style and treat it as a com­pu­ta­tion­al object through which oth­er infor­ma­tion can pass. That’s what we’re see­ing in the above video. For a more thor­ough expla­na­tion of Flow Machine, watch this video.

Sup­pos­ed­ly, this will help us poor human beings in the end, as it might (it’s nev­er explained how) help us get into our own flow state more read­i­ly.

But real­ly, that’s not what I’m think­ing about. I’m more imag­in­ing a night club some­time in the future where Bea­t­les androids play not just their hits, but the hits of oth­ers as if John, Paul, George and Ringo wrote them instead. (Yes, I know that has already been done. By humans.) And your local used record shop will have a lot of LPs full of clas­si­cal ver­sions of Bea­t­les hits.

It’s an inter­est­ing video, but I wouldn’t pack up your gui­tars yet folks!

via Tech Crunch

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cre­ativ­i­ty, Not Mon­ey, is the Key to Hap­pi­ness: Dis­cov­er Psy­chol­o­gist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly’s The­o­ry of “Flow”

Slavoj Žižek: What Ful­fils You Cre­ative­ly Isn’t What Makes You Hap­py

Slavoj Žižek Exam­ines the Per­verse Ide­ol­o­gy of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy

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

Read More...

Quantcast