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Hear “Weightless,” the Most Relaxing Song Ever Made, According to Researchers (You’ll Need It Today)

As I write this, it’s elec­tion night, and I do not need to tell you about the thick haze of fear in the air. I have already had a cou­ple friends ask me about resources for med­i­ta­tion and relax­ation. I’m no expert, but I have looked into var­i­ous ways to deal with stress and hyper­ten­sion. Med­i­ta­tion tops my list (and those of many men­tal health pro­fes­sion­als). At a very close sec­ond place: Music.

We’ve brought you many med­i­ta­tion resources in the past (see here, here, here, and here). And we’ve point­ed you toward four hours of free orig­i­nal med­i­ta­tion music to help you “not pan­ic,” cour­tesy of Moby. We’ve also brought you music to help you sleep, from com­pos­er Max Richter and many oth­ers. Now, we bring you what “a team of sci­en­tists and sound ther­a­pists” claim is “the most relax­ing song ever,” as Elec­tron­ic Beats informs us. You can hear the track, “Weightless”—by Man­ches­ter band Mar­coni Union and Lyz Coop­er, founder of the British Acad­e­my of Sound Therapy—above.

The song’s relax­ing prop­er­ties sup­pos­ed­ly work “by using spe­cif­ic rhythms, tones, fre­quen­cies and inter­vals to relax the lis­ten­er,” writes Short­List. I’ve had it on repeat for an hour and will tes­ti­fy to its effi­ca­cy. So can 40 women who “found it to be more effec­tive at help­ing them relax than songs by Enya, Mozart and Cold­play.” In this exper­i­ment and oth­ers, says UK stress spe­cial­ist Dr. David Lewis, “Brain imag­ing stud­ies have shown that music works at a very deep lev­el with­in the brain, stim­u­lat­ing not only those regions respon­si­ble for pro­cess­ing sound but also ones asso­ci­at­ed with emo­tions.”

Emotions—fear, rage, and disgust—are run­ning wild nation­wide. Jus­ti­fi­able or not, they can wreak hav­oc on our men­tal and phys­i­cal health if we can’t find ways to relax. “Weight­less,” reports The Tele­graph, “induced a 65 per cent reduc­tion in over­all anx­i­ety and brought [study par­tic­i­pants] to a lev­el 35 per cent low­er than their usu­al rest­ing rates.” That’s no small change in atti­tude, but if you find this atmos­pher­ic track doesn’t do it for you, maybe try out some oth­er tunes from the research team’s top 10 list of most relax­ing (hear them all in the playlist above):

  1. Mar­coni Union and Lyz Coop­er – Weight­less
  2. Airstream – Elec­tra
  3. DJ Shah – Mel­lo­ma­ni­ac (Chill Out Mix)
  4. Enya – Water­mark
  5. Cold­play – Straw­ber­ry Swing
  6. Barcelona – Please Don’t Go
  7. All Saints – Pure Shores
  8. Adelev­Some­one Like You
  9. Mozart – Can­zonet­ta Sull’aria
  10. Cafe Del Mar – We Can Fly

And then, again, there’s Moby’s four hours of ambi­ent sounds, Max Richter’s eight-hour Sleep, the work of Ger­man ambi­ent com­pos­er Gas, and hun­dreds of oth­er supreme­ly relax­ing pieces of music to bring your stress lev­els down to man­age­able. Maybe keep some relax­ing music on hand for extra-stress­ful moments, and as always, don’t for­get to breathe.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Moby Lets You Down­load 4 Hours of Ambi­ent Music to Help You Sleep, Med­i­tate, Do Yoga & Not Pan­ic

Music That Helps You Sleep: Min­i­mal­ist Com­pos­er Max Richter, Pop Phe­nom Ed Sheer­an & Your Favorites

How a Good Night’s Sleep — and a Bad Night’s Sleep — Can Enhance Your Cre­ativ­i­ty

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

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

1959 was a water­shed for jazz, a form of music that often looks back­ward and for­ward at once. That year, vir­tu­oso com­posers and soloists like Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charles Min­gus, Dave Brubeck, and Ornette Cole­man pulled jazz in all sorts of tem­po­ral and spa­tial dimen­sions, giv­ing new shape to bebop, cool jazz, hard bop, and what­ev­er Ornette Cole­man was up to. 1959 also brought us per­haps one of the most tra­di­tion­al records by a jazz great that year, Louis Armstrong’s Satch­mo Plays King Oliv­er, a trib­ute album to his “ear­li­est musi­cal hero,” writes All­mu­sic, “and the man who enabled two of his break­out gigs” in 1918 and 1922.

Arm­strong reached back to those years in his selec­tion of mate­r­i­al, with his All-Stars play­ing such clas­sic Oliv­er com­po­si­tions as “New Orleans stomp” and “Dr. Jazz,” along with a hand­ful of tunes Arm­strong “admit­ted with a sly smile, ‘Joe [Oliv­er] might have played.’” The record­ing ses­sions for that album end­ed up on a “33-minute, 16mm film,” writes The Guardian. “The record pro­duc­er, Sid Frey, had the film pro­fes­sion­al­ly shot but wound up not doing any­thing with it or telling any­one about it.” Just recent­ly, that film was dis­cov­ered in a stor­age facil­i­ty and acquired by the Louis Arm­strong House Muse­um. It’s the only known footage of Arm­strong in the stu­dio.

See Arm­strong and his All-Stars record “I Ain’t Got Nobody” at Audio Fideli­ty in Los Ange­les above. Here, as in the oth­er cuts, Arm­strong revis­its his New Orleans swing and rag­time roots, in stark con­trast to the for­ward-look­ing wave of records from a new gen­er­a­tion. But in doing so, he also cre­at­ed an instant clas­sic trib­ute that “deserves to be placed on the shelf along­side Arm­strong Plays W.C. Handy and Satch Plays Fats,” writes Jaz­zviews, “and in some aspects is supe­ri­or to them both.… ‘I Ain’t Got Nobody’ is a tune that could have been writ­ten by Louis and the group, it fits them well. The whole group are in top form and Louis’s vocal is a gem.” It cer­tain­ly puts David Lee Roth’s ham­my ver­sion to shame.

This rep­re­sents one of “two com­plete takes,” The Guardian notes, pre­sum­ably the first. After­ward, at 4:22, watch Louis and the band take five and talk things over. There’s no audio, but it’s cool nonethe­less to see them casu­al­ly lounge around smok­ing cig­a­rettes and crack­ing jokes. “For now, the muse­um will post one com­plete song on its web­site and social media”—it’s cur­rent song being that above. “It plans to show the com­plete film at a future date.” For now, it’s housed at the museum’s Coro­na, Queens loca­tion, “in the mod­est brick build­ing where Arm­strong lived for 28 years and died in 1971.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Louis Arm­strong and His All Stars Live in Bel­gium, 1959: The Full Show

The Clean­est Record­ings of 1920s Louis Arm­strong Songs You’ll Ever Hear

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

Watch the Ear­li­est Known Footage of Louis Arm­strong Per­form­ing Live in Con­cert (Copen­hagen, 1933)

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

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Bruce Springsteen Plays 3 Classic Songs & Makes the Case for Hillary at Rally Last Night

Last night, Bruce Spring­steen played a three-song acoustic set at a Hillary Clin­ton ral­ly in Philadel­phia, First came “Thun­der Road,” then “Long Walk Home” and “Danc­ing in the Dark. At the 6:00 mark, the Boss makes his pitch for Hillary, whose can­di­da­cy is “based on intel­li­gence, expe­ri­ence, prepa­ra­tion and an actu­al vision of Amer­i­ca where every­one counts.” And the case against Don­ald, a “man whose vision is lim­it­ed to lit­tle beyond him­self, who has a pro­found lack of decen­cy,” and puts his ego before Amer­i­can democ­ra­cy itself. Amen, now let’s hear Bruce play.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Rolling Stone

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bruce Spring­steen Lists 20 of His Favorite Books: The Books That Have Inspired the Song­writer & Now Mem­oirist

Bruce Spring­steen Plays East Berlin in 1988: I’m Not Here For Any Gov­ern­ment. I’ve Come to Play Rock

David Bowie Sings Impres­sions of Bruce Spring­steen, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits & More In Stu­dio Out­takes (1985)

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David Bowie Sings “Fame” & “Golden Years” on Soul Train (1975)

Just before his death this year, David Bowie revealed that what turned out to be his final album, Black­star, was large­ly inspired by the exper­i­men­tal sounds of Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a But­ter­fly. And just this past August, Bowie’s name appeared in the cred­its of the much-antic­i­pat­ed Blonde from Frank Ocean (as an “influ­ence”). This meld­ing of style and influ­ence between rock, pop, hip-hop, and R&B giants is a hall­mark of 2016, but in 1975 such crossovers were rare. When David Bowie began work­ing with Luther Van­dross and Car­los Alo­mar on his Philly soul-inspired Young Amer­i­cans album, “no oth­er estab­lished rock musi­cian had yet tried to do any­thing sim­i­lar,” writes Dou­glas Wolk at Pitch­fork, “and Bowie pulled it off in a way that not only didn’t seem crass but gave Luther Van­dross his big break.”

The album’s first big sin­gle, “Fame,” (above) “land­ed Bowie on Soul Train,” Wolk notes, and though “he wasn’t the first white solo per­former to play the show [that would be Den­nis Cof­fey] he was damn close.” Bowie and Alomar’s hip con­fec­tion lat­er inspired George Clinton’s “Give Up the Funk,” and James Brown released an instru­men­tal track in 1976 that was a “note-for-note dupli­cate of ‘Fame.’”

That kind of gen­uine admi­ra­tion for Bowie’s deft take on funk and soul extend­ed to ordi­nary fans as well. In a Q&A before his Soul Train per­for­mances, one audi­ence mem­ber asked him “when did you actu­al­ly start get­ting into soul music? You know, when did you start want­i­ng to do soul music? I mean you’re doin’ it now!” Bowie gives a some­what gar­bled answer, then launch­es into mim­ing “Gold­en Years” (below).

Fan­site Bowie Gold­en Years claims he “had been drink­ing to calm his nerves before his per­for­mance” and “spoke thick­ly with dis­con­nect­ed sen­tences.” We can see him flub a few lines as he lip-synchs. This was also the year Bowie pre­sent­ed the best female R&B vocal Gram­my to Aretha Franklin appar­ent­ly so high on coke that he didn’t remem­ber being there after­ward. A lot of Young Amer­i­cans, espe­cial­ly “Fame,” address­es exact­ly the state he was in, “at a moment,” writes Wolk, “when [pop star­dom] seemed like­ly to destroy him.” Bowie’s appear­ance on Soul Train coin­cid­ed with the release of the “Gold­en Years” sin­gle from 1976’s Sta­tion to Sta­tion, the album on which he bridged his obses­sions with soul music and krautrock, and adopt­ed the per­sona of the Thin White Duke, “a nasty char­ac­ter indeed,” as he once said.

Vast num­bers of Bowie fans con­sid­er his sub­se­quent three albums, known as The Berlin Tril­o­gy, to be the best work of the artist’s career, but for a brief moment in the mid-sev­en­ties, he was ful­ly immersed in black Amer­i­can music, and those influ­ences con­tin­ued to inform his work through the decade and through­out the rest of his life. Bowie also gave back as much as he bor­rowed: “black radio sta­tions that nev­er thought twice about ‘The Man Who Sold the World’ or ‘Changes’ ate up ‘Fame’ and ‘Gold­en Years,’” writes Renée Gra­ham at the Boston Globe, and artists like Clin­ton, Brown, and a few dozen future hip-hop DJs took note.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie and Cher Sing Duet of “Young Amer­i­cans” and Oth­er Songs on 1975 Vari­ety Show

David Bowie Sings Impres­sions of Bruce Spring­steen, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits & More In Stu­dio Out­takes (1985)

David Bowie Becomes a DJ on BBC Radio in 1979; Intro­duces Lis­ten­ers to The Vel­vet Under­ground, Talk­ing Heads, Blondie & More

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

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Stephen King’s The Shining Is Now an Opera: Hear a Recording of the Entire Production (for a Limited Time)

the-shining-opera-cropped

A quick update: Back in May, Col­in Mar­shall told you about how The Shin­ing–first a Stephen King nov­el, then a Stan­ley Kubrick film–was get­ting adapt­ed into an opera. Fast for­ward six months, and you can now hear a com­plete record­ing of that pro­duc­tion, thanks to Min­neso­ta Pub­lic Radio. The MPR web site, where you can stream the record­ing through Novem­ber 30, includes a scene-by-scene guide to the com­plete opera. You can also find the dig­i­tal pro­gram for the opera here. Enjoy.

via Fla­vor­wire

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen King’s The Shin­ing Is Now an Opera, and The Tick­ets Are All Sold Out

Down­load & Play The Shin­ing Board Game

The Shin­ing and Oth­er Com­plex Stan­ley Kubrick Films Recut as Sim­ple Hol­ly­wood Movies

Watch a Shot-by-Shot Remake of Kubrick’s The Shin­ing, a 48-Minute Music Video Accom­pa­ny­ing the New Album by Aesop Rock

Watch The Simp­sons’ Hal­loween Par­o­dy of Kubrick’s A Clock­work Orange and The Shin­ing

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Anno­tat­ed Copy of Stephen King’s The Shin­ing

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Georgia O’Keeffe: A Life in Art, a Short Documentary on the Painter Narrated by Gene Hackman

On a road trip across Amer­i­ca last year, I made a stop in San­ta Fe, New Mex­i­co, and thus had the chance to vis­it the Geor­gia O’Ke­effe Muse­um. Though I’d already known some­thing of the influ­en­tial Amer­i­can painter’s life and work, I had­n’t under­stood the depth of her con­nec­tion to, and the extent of the inspi­ra­tion she drew from, the Amer­i­can South­west. “This is O’Ke­effe coun­try,” says Gene Hack­man, nar­ra­tor of the thir­teen-minute doc­u­men­tary Geor­gia O’Ke­effe: A Life in Art that screens per­pet­u­al­ly at the muse­um but which you can also watch just above, “a land the painter made indeli­bly her own. North­ern New Mex­i­co trans­formed the artist’s work and changed her life.”

“As soon as I saw it, that was my coun­try,” says the artist her­self. “I’d nev­er seen any­thing like it before, but it fit­ted to me exact­ly. There’s some­thing in the air; it’s just dif­fer­ent. The sky is dif­fer­ent, the stars are dif­fer­ent, the wind is dif­fer­ent.”

I have to agree with her; my own great Amer­i­can road trip showed me not only that the states real­ly do look dif­fer­ent from each oth­er, but that New Mex­i­co — which at first struck me as a Krazy Kat land­scape come to life — looks most dif­fer­ent of all. O’Ke­effe first went to New Mex­i­co for a year and a half in 1929, in her ear­ly for­ties, and returned each year over the next two decades, mov­ing there per­ma­nent­ly in 1949 and dying in San­ta Fe in 1986, at the age of 98.

Though she remains best known in art his­to­ry for her paint­ings of flow­ers that make their view­ers see them in a way they’ve nev­er seen flow­ers before, New Mex­i­co intro­duced a whole new sen­si­bil­i­ty into O’Ke­ef­fe’s body of work. This holds espe­cial­ly true of her time at Ghost Ranch, whose loca­tion in an area called Piedra Lum­bre, or “Shin­ing Rock,” pro­vid­ed the painter with the strik­ing­ly col­ored cliffs and oth­er almost unre­al-look­ing nat­ur­al forms that made their way into her equal­ly sub­lime land­scapes. “The best place in the world,” she called it, and if we can mea­sure places by what they move human beings to cre­ate, her words hard­ly sound like an exag­ger­a­tion.

Geor­gia O’Ke­effe: A Life in Art will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Art of Hand­writ­ing as Prac­ticed by Famous Artists: Geor­gia O’Keeffe, Jack­son Pol­lock, Mar­cel Duchamp, Willem de Koon­ing & More

The Real Geor­gia O’Keeffe: The Artist Reveals Her­self in Vin­tage Doc­u­men­tary Clips

Fri­da Kahlo Writes a Per­son­al Let­ter to Geor­gia O’Keeffe After O’Keeffe’s Ner­vous Break­down (1933)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. 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.

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Patti Smith Reads from Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis, the Love Letter He Wrote From Prison (1897)

Just last month, the U.K. announced the so-called “Tur­ing Law,” a pol­i­cy U.K.’s jus­tice min­is­ter Sam Gyimah describes as par­don­ing “peo­ple con­vict­ed of his­tor­i­cal sex­u­al offens­es who would be inno­cent of any crime today.” The law is named for Alan Tur­ing, the bril­liant gay com­put­er sci­en­tist whose work on A.I. gave the arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence test its name.

Tur­ing was also instru­men­tal in break­ing the Nazi Enig­ma code, and the Min­istry of Justice’s press release iden­ti­fies Tur­ing only as an “Enig­ma code­break­er,” sug­gest­ing that his patri­ot­ic duty may have made him some­thing of an offi­cial mar­tyr; Tur­ing was one thou­sands of men unjust­ly con­vict­ed over many decades. But “does par­don­ing those men unlucky enough to get caught,” asks Jonathan Coop­er, “actu­al­ly address the trau­ma to which the British state sub­ject­ed LGBT peo­ple?”

I couldn’t pos­si­bly say. But the “unlucky ones” who were arrest­ed, con­vict­ed, and impris­oned for crimes of “gross inde­cen­cy” have left often poignant records of their mis­treat­ment, and of the psy­cho­log­i­cal toll it took on them. Tur­ing wrote a very pained let­ter to a friend, Nor­man Rut­ledge, after his con­vic­tion (hear Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch read it here).

Around six­ty years ear­li­er, an even more well-known con­vict, one of the first to be con­vict­ed of “gross inde­cen­cy” laws, Oscar Wilde, left an even more pro­found expres­sion of his emo­tion­al tur­moil. Called De Pro­fundis (from the depths) and addressed to his lover Lord Alfred Dou­glas, the hun­dred-page doc­u­ment, with its lengthy digres­sions and rumi­na­tions, can­not sole­ly be read as a let­ter, although it con­tains a wealth of ten­der and angry expres­sions for Dou­glas.

De Pro­fundis, writes Colm Tóibín, “can­not be read for its accu­rate account of their rela­tion­ship, nor tak­en at its word.” This is in part because Wilde had no oth­er choice but to write a let­ter, or write noth­ing at all. The suc­ces­sion of pris­ons in which he was held between 1895 and 1897 allowed no writ­ing of plays, nov­els, or essays.

Over the last four months of Wilde’s incar­cer­a­tion, he and the gov­er­nor of Read­ing prison came up with a scheme. Since “reg­u­la­tions did not spec­i­fy how long a let­ter should be,” Wilde would be giv­en pen and ink each day and be allowed com­pose cor­re­spon­dence as long as he liked. The let­ter would then be his per­son­al prop­er­ty when he left. Despite its lit­er­ary den­si­ty, the let­ter remains, writes Tóibín, “one of the great­est love let­ters ever writ­ten.”

Read­ing prison has just been opened to the pub­lic for the first time this year. Since July, artists, writ­ers, and per­form­ers have gath­ered with audi­ences inside the prison to cel­e­brate and com­mune with the spir­it of Wilde. Among the events have been read­ings of De Pro­fundis by Tóibín, who read the let­ter in its entire­ly last month, as did Pat­ti Smith.

At the top of the post, you can see an excerpt of Smith’s read­ing. “The edit­ed ver­sion of De Pro­fundis” from which she reads “was the first one to be pub­lished in 1905, in a lim­it­ed edi­tion of 200, five years after Wilde’s death.” In-between clips of her read­ing, there are inter­views with a Read­ing prison care­tak­er and oth­ers, and voice-over nar­ra­tion telling us Wilde’s trag­ic sto­ry of impris­on­ment, as well as the gen­er­al out­lines of those who left no record of their per­se­cu­tion.

Once released, Wilde went right back to writ­ing lit­er­a­ture, begin­ning with the long, vio­lent poem, “The Bal­lad of Read­ing Gaol.” The video up top comes from The Guardian.

via Vin­tage Anchor

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Oscar Wilde Recite a Sec­tion of The Bal­lad of Read­ing Gaol (1897)

Oscar Wilde Offers Prac­ti­cal Advice on the Writ­ing Life in a New­ly-Dis­cov­ered Let­ter from 1890

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

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

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

If you’ve kept up with Open Cul­ture for a while, you know that Kurt Von­negut could write a good let­ter, whether home from World War II, to high school stu­dents, to oth­er writ­ers, to John F. Kennedy, or to the future. You also know that Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch can give a good read­ing, whether of lit­er­a­ture like The Meta­mor­pho­sis and Moby Dick or more direct­ly per­son­al words from Alan Tur­ing or a Guan­tá­namo pris­on­er. It must have seemed like only a mat­ter of time, then, before this mas­ter read­er of let­ters (in the broad sense) took on the work of a mas­ter let­ter-writer, and here we have a clip of Cum­ber­batch at the Hay Fes­ti­val 2014 read­ing a Von­negut let­ter — and a par­tic­u­lar­ly impas­sioned Von­negut let­ter at that.

“I am among those Amer­i­can writ­ers whose books have been destroyed in the now famous fur­nace of your school,” Von­negut writes to Charles McCarthy, head of the school board at North Dako­ta’s Drake High School, who in 1973 ordered its copies of Von­negut’s Slaugh­ter­house-Five and oth­er nov­els burned for their “obscene lan­guage.” “Cer­tain mem­bers of your com­mu­ni­ty have sug­gest­ed that my work is evil. This is extra­or­di­nar­i­ly insult­ing to me. The news from Drake indi­cates to me that books and writ­ers are very unre­al to you peo­ple. I am writ­ing this let­ter to let you know how real I am.”

After assur­ing McCarthy that “my pub­lish­er and I have done absolute­ly noth­ing to exploit the dis­gust­ing news,” Von­negut goes on to describe him­self not as one of the “rat­like peo­ple who enjoy mak­ing mon­ey from poi­son­ing the minds of young peo­ple” that McCarthy may imag­ine, but as a “large, strong per­son, fifty-one years old, who did a lot of farm work as a boy, who is good with tools. I have raised six chil­dren, three my own and three adopt­ed. They have all turned out well. Two of them are farm­ers. I am a com­bat infantry vet­er­an from World War II, and hold a Pur­ple Heart. I have earned what­ev­er I own by hard work.”

And as for the prod­ucts of that labor, “if you were to both­er to read my books, to behave as edu­cat­ed per­sons would, you would learn that they are not sexy, and do not argue in favor of wild­ness of any kind. They beg that peo­ple be kinder and more respon­si­ble than they often are. It is true that some of the char­ac­ters speak coarse­ly. That is because peo­ple speak coarse­ly in real life.” Von­negut acknowl­edges the school’s right to decide what books its stu­dents should read, “but it is also true that if you exer­cise that right and ful­fill that respon­si­bil­i­ty in an igno­rant, harsh, un-Amer­i­can man­ner, then peo­ple are enti­tled to call you bad cit­i­zens and fools. Even your own chil­dren are enti­tled to call you that.”

More that forty years have passed, and hard­ly any­where does Slaugh­ter­house-Five now count as con­tro­ver­sial read­ing mate­r­i­al. But Von­negut’s words to McCarthy, which you can read in full at Let­ters of Note web site (or in the Let­ters of Note book), still bear not just repeat­ing but breath­ing new life into by a per­former like Cum­ber­batch, one of the most respect­ed of his gen­er­a­tion. At the Let­ters Live Youtube chan­nel, you can see his inter­pre­ta­tion of more let­ters orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten by Sol LeWitt, William Safire, and oth­er peo­ple known pri­mar­i­ly for their work, but the read­ing of whose let­ters make them, in Von­negut’s words, “very real.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1988, Kurt Von­negut Writes a Let­ter to Peo­ple Liv­ing in 2088, Giv­ing 7 Pieces of Advice

22-Year-Old P.O.W. Kurt Von­negut Writes Home from World War II: “I’ll Be Damned If It Was Worth It”

Kurt Von­negut Urges Young Peo­ple to Make Art and “Make Your Soul Grow”

Kurt Vonnegut’s Tips for Teach­ing at the Iowa Writ­ers’ Work­shop (1967)

Kurt Von­negut to John F. Kennedy: ‘On Occa­sion, I Write Pret­ty Well’

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

 

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. 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.

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What Character Traits Do Geniuses Share in Common?: From Isaac Newton to Richard Feynman

Back in 1993, James Gle­ick wrote Genius: The Life and Sci­ence of Richard Feyn­man. A decade lat­er came his biog­ra­phy on Isaac New­ton. As Gle­ick men­tions above, the two scientists–who lived, of course, cen­turies apart–shared very lit­tle in com­mon. New­ton (1643–1727) was “soli­tary, anti­so­cial, unpleas­ant, bit­ter.” Richard Feyn­man (1918–1988) could be best described as “gre­gar­i­ous, fun­ny, a great dancer.” Watch him joy­ous­ly play the bon­gos to see what Gle­ick means.

So the ques­tion remains: What did they have in com­mon? And par­tic­u­lar­ly what char­ac­ter traits con­tributed to their “sci­en­tif­ic genius”? Gle­ick goes on to explain:

They were both, as I tried to get in their heads, under­stand their minds, the nature of their genius, I sort of felt I was see­ing things that they had in com­mon, and they were things that had to do with alone­ness. New­ton was much more obvi­ous­ly alone than Feyn­man, but Feyn­man did­n’t par­tic­u­lar­ly work well with oth­ers. He was known as a great teacher, but he was­n’t a great teacher, I don’t think, one on one. I think he was a great lec­tur­er. I think he was a great com­mu­ni­ca­tor. But when it came time to make the great dis­cov­er­ies of sci­ence, he was alone in his head. Now, when I say he, I mean both Feyn­man and New­ton, and this applies, also, I think, to the genius­es that I write about in The Infor­ma­tion, Charles Bab­bage, Alan Tur­ing, Ada Byron. They all had the abil­i­ty to con­cen­trate with a sort of inten­si­ty that is hard for mor­tals like me to grasp, a kind of pas­sion for abstrac­tion that does­n’t lend itself to easy com­mu­ni­ca­tion, I don’t think.

Soli­tude. Con­cen­tra­tion. Abstrac­tion. In a nut­shell, that’s what goes into the mak­ing of a genius.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Neil deGrasse Tyson on the Stag­ger­ing Genius of Isaac New­ton

Sir Isaac Newton’s Papers & Anno­tat­ed Prin­cip­ia Go Dig­i­tal

Free Physics Cours­es (From Our Col­lec­tion of 1200 Free Online Cours­es)

Richard Feyn­man Cre­ates a Sim­ple Method for Telling Sci­ence From Pseu­do­science (1966)

‘The Char­ac­ter of Phys­i­cal Law’: Richard Feynman’s Leg­endary Course Pre­sent­ed at Cor­nell, 1964

The Feyn­man Lec­tures on Physics, The Most Pop­u­lar Physics Book Ever Writ­ten, Now Com­plete­ly Online

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When Vladimir Nabokov Taught Ruth Bader Ginsburg, His Most Famous Student, To Care Deeply About Writing

There are a few ways to get a glimpse of Vladimir Nabokov as a teacher, a role he occu­pied for almost twen­ty years at Welles­ley and Cor­nell. We can take the “good read­er” quiz he gave to his stu­dents. We can lis­ten to his inter­views on life and lit­er­a­ture, though they won’t give us any sense of spon­tane­ity. The Russ­ian-émi­gré writer insist­ed on care­ful­ly script­ed ques­tions and answers “to ensure a dig­ni­fied beat of the mandarin’s fan.”

We can see also see Nabokov, as played by Christo­pher Plum­mer, teach his sec­ond favorite nov­el, Kafka’s The Meta­mor­pho­sis, at a Cor­nell lec­ture above. Plum­mer, who intro­duces him­self in the role, tells us, “this urbane, world­ly Russ­ian aris­to­crat spent a large part of his pro­duc­tive life in Itha­ca, New York.” And the char­ac­ter­i­za­tion, if not a like­ness, is a con­vinc­ing dra­mat­ic inter­pre­ta­tion of a very urbane, and wit­ty, Pro­fes­sor, not a man who “speak[s] like a child,” as the real Nabokov once wrote of him­self in 1973.

What of his stu­dents? What can they tell us about Nabokov as a teacher? One of his most famous, Thomas Pyn­chon, won’t say much. But per­haps his best known pupil, Ruth Bad­er Gins­burg, has paid him trib­ute many times, telling The Scribes Jour­nal of Legal Writ­ing in 2011, “I attribute my car­ing about writ­ing” to Nabokov, who “was a man in love with the sound of words. He taught me the impor­tance of choos­ing the right word and pre­sent­ing it in the right word order.”

Gins­burg, who stud­ied under Nabokov as an under­grad­u­ate in the ear­ly fifties, still sings his prais­es over six­ty years lat­er. “He was mag­net­i­cal­ly engag­ing,” she told The Cul­ture Trip this week. “He stood alone, not com­pa­ra­ble to any oth­er lec­tur­er.” And last month, the Supreme Court Jus­tice wrote a New York Times Op-Ed titled “Ruth Bad­er Ginsburg’s Advice for Liv­ing.” Sec­ond on the list, “teach­ers who influ­enced or encour­aged me in my grow­ing-up years.” Her first exam­ple, Nabokov, who “changed the way I read and the way I write.”

If Nabokov so pro­found­ly influ­enced Ginsburg’s read­ing and writ­ing, and made such a dra­mat­ic impres­sion on her as a pro­fes­sor, would we find any traces of that influ­ence in her jurispru­dence? Per­haps. As Jen­nifer Wil­son notes in the Los Ange­les Review of Books, Nabokov pro­nounced him­self “res­olute­ly ‘anti-seg­re­ga­tion­ist.’” This was among the “few issues he spoke out against strong­ly and unambiguously—Marxism, fas­cism, anti-Semi­tism, and racism.”

You may or may not see some influ­ence of Nabokov—of his repug­nance for legal­ized dis­crim­i­na­tion or of his metic­u­lous wording—in Ginsburg’s pas­sion­ate dis­sent to the 2013 gut­ting of the Vot­ing Rights Act, for exam­ple. There, Gins­burg called vot­er sup­pres­sion “the most con­sti­tu­tion­al­ly invid­i­ous form of dis­crim­i­na­tion” and wrote “giv­en a record replete with exam­ples of denial or abridge­ment of a para­mount fed­er­al right, the Court should have left the mat­ter where it belongs: in Con­gress’ baili­wick.” With­in their con­straints of legal writ­ing, I’d argue Ginsburg’s best sen­tences con­tain the cut­ting pre­ci­sion and wit of Nabokov’s scathing, deeply con­sid­ered obser­va­tions.

via The Cul­ture Trip/Vin­tage Anchor

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take Vladimir Nabokov’s Quiz to See If You’re a Good Reader–The Same One He Gave to His Stu­dents

Vladimir Nabokov Names the Great­est (and Most Over­rat­ed) Nov­els of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Vladimir Nabokov Talks About Life, Lit­er­a­ture & Love in a Metic­u­lous­ly Pre­pared Inter­view, 1969

Vladimir Nabokov (Chan­nelled by Christo­pher Plum­mer) Teach­es Kaf­ka at Cor­nell

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

 

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