Professor Ronald Mallett Wants to Build a Time Machine in this Century … and He’s Not Kidding

Time trav­el. Since Ein­stein for­mu­lat­ed his spe­cial the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty, we have known that it is the­o­ret­i­cal­ly pos­si­ble, even if pop­u­lar notions of time trav­el have dete­ri­o­rat­ed slight­ly from the august H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine to… well, Hot Tub Time Machine. Which is to say that few people—lay or professional—take the con­cept very seri­ous­ly any­more. But Uni­ver­si­ty of Con­necti­cut Pro­fes­sor Dr. Ronald Mal­lett still believes, and he has sought to real­ize his dream of mak­ing time trav­el pos­si­ble in this cen­tu­ry by infil­trat­ing the sci­en­tif­ic pro­fes­sion, becom­ing a respect­ed the­o­ret­i­cal physi­cist, then brav­ing the ridicule and oppro­bri­um, or at least dis­agree­ment, of his col­leagues to begin work on a time machine.

In the video above, Dr. Mal­lett describes his expe­ri­ence of “risk­ing pro­fes­sion­al sui­cide,” and phys­i­cal pain, to work out his ideas. Since com­ing out, so to speak, as a pro­po­nent of time trav­el, Mal­lett pub­lished a mem­oir in 2006, Time Trav­el­er: A Scientist’s Per­son­al Mis­sion to Make Time Trav­el a Real­i­ty. It’s both a descrip­tion of his fifty years of sci­en­tif­ic work toward his project Space-time Twist­ing by Light (STL) and a mov­ing per­son­al nar­ra­tive of grow­ing up under seg­re­ga­tion, los­ing his father at a young age, and becom­ing one of the first African Amer­i­can the­o­ret­i­cal physi­cists.

Spike Lee has acquired the film rights to his mem­oir (though the project seems to be stalled), and Mal­lett has told his sto­ry on This Amer­i­can Life, CNN, and in speak­ing tours around the coun­try. Whether Mallett’s enthu­si­asm will trans­late into real­i­ty remains to be seen, but his pas­sion for Einstein’s pre­dic­tions is infec­tious and illu­mi­nat­ing.

The video comes from a new series from THNKR called EPIPHANY, a “dai­ly series invit­ing impas­sioned thought lead­ers across all dis­ci­plines to reveal the inno­v­a­tive, the improb­a­ble, and the unex­pect­ed of their worlds.” Each week is devot­ed to a new “thought leader.” Vis­it the EPIPHANY chan­nel to view the rest of Dr. Mallett’s “rev­e­la­tions.”

Anoth­er online source for infor­ma­tion, the Cas­siopeia Project, claims to “make sci­ence sim­ple.” In the video below, learn the basics of time trav­el and spe­cial rel­a­tiv­i­ty.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Saul Bass Gives Ma Bell a Complete Makeover, 1969

By the late six­ties, the Amer­i­can Bell Tele­phone Com­pa­ny, col­lo­qui­al­ly known across Amer­i­ca as “Ma Bell,” need­ed some spiff­ing up. Per­haps a vast, long-estab­lished tele­phone ser­vice monop­oly does­n’t spring to mind as the ide­al design client, but Saul Bass, the artist behind the title sequences for films like The Man with the Gold­en ArmSpar­ta­cus, and Psy­cho, thought dif­fer­ent­ly. If you rec­og­nize Bass’ name, you prob­a­bly know he cre­at­ed the Bell logo used by the com­pa­ny from 1969 to its Jus­tice Depart­ment-man­dat­ed divesti­ture in 1984. But the work cut out for Bass and his asso­ciates went well beyond fig­ur­ing out how best to stream­line and mod­ern­ize an old-timey bell-in-a-cir­cle graph­ic. As you can see above, they had to pro­duce an entire half-hour film pitch­ing their ideas for the cor­po­ra­tion’s com­plete aes­thet­ic redesign. They did­n’t just make a new logo; they prac­ti­cal­ly cre­at­ed a new world, encom­pass­ing signs, booths, vehi­cles, equip­ment, pub­li­ca­tions, uni­forms, and exec­u­tive cuf­flinks.

Bass pre­sent­ed all this to Bell in 1969, the year after Stan­ley Kubrick­’s 2001 offered a vision of a near-future sim­i­lar­ly uni­fied by con­sis­tent, mod­ern design. It marked the last era when you could pro­pose such a top-down aes­thet­ic pro­gram and not appear total­i­tar­i­an — and, con­sid­er­ing the earth-toned styl­is­tic excess­es the sev­en­ties would short­ly bring, it was the last era when you would have want­ed to. View­ers of cer­tain gen­er­a­tions will remem­ber vivid­ly the real-life ver­sions of Bass’ pro­posed phone book, van, and hard­hat designs. Oth­er pro­pos­als seem slight­ly out­landish and, from the per­spec­tive of 2012, more than a lit­tle retro. Observe, for instance, the unre­al­ized uni­form designs for women work­ing at Bel­l’s ser­vice cen­ters: “More flat­ter­ing than any­thing offered by the air­lines [ … ] Ma Bell has gone Mod!” But the stock of retro-futur­ism has reached an all-time high in recent years, and Bass’ design work, as goofy as cer­tain pieces of it may now seem, has retained a strik­ing qual­i­ty over the decades. He cer­tain­ly impressed the right peo­ple at Bell: after the breakup, the new AT&T hired him to make them a logo of their own.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Saul Bass’ Oscar-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Short Pon­ders Why Man Cre­ates

A Brief Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Saul Bass’ Cel­e­brat­ed Title Designs

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Tom Davis, Original Saturday Night Live Writer, “De-animates” at 59

Back in 1975, Tom Davis and Al Franken, two Min­neso­ta-born come­di­ans, joined the writ­ing staff of Sat­ur­day Night Live, a new late-night com­e­dy show. Togeth­er, Franken & Davis sketched out some unfor­get­table SNL char­ac­ters — The Cone­heads played by Dan Aykroyd, Jane Curtin and Laraine New­man. Nick The Lounge Singer, a char­ac­ter inhab­it­ed won­der­ful­ly by Bill Mur­ray. Julia Child brought to life by Aykroyd again. 37 years lat­er, Sat­ur­day Night Live is still going strong.

The Franken & Davis com­e­dy team broke up in 1990. Time passed. And, in 2009, their lives went in very dif­fer­ent direc­tions. Al Franken was elect­ed to the U.S. Sen­ate. Tom Davis was diag­nosed with throat and neck can­cer — the dis­ease that final­ly took his life yes­ter­day. In recent months, Davis wrote open­ly about his jour­ney with can­cer. In a blog post called The Dark Side of Death, he joked about indulging in med­ical mar­i­jua­na (“These days I get my mar­i­jua­na through air­port secu­ri­ty by hid­ing it in the mor­phine”) and the day he’d “de-ani­mate.” But he also talked mov­ing­ly about the per­spec­tive the dis­ease gave him, writ­ing:

I wake up in the morn­ing, delight­ed to be wak­ing up, read, write, feed the birds, watch sports on TV, accept­ing the fact that in the fore­see­able future I will be a dead per­son. I want to remind you that dead peo­ple are peo­ple too. There are good dead peo­ple and bad dead peo­ple. Some of my best friends are dead peo­ple. Dead peo­ple have fought in every war. We’re all going to try it some­time. For­tu­nate­ly for me, I have always enjoyed mys­tery and soli­tude.

Many peo­ple in my sit­u­a­tion say, “It’s been my worst and best year.” If that sounds like a cliché, you don’t have can­cer. On the plus side, I am grate­ful to have gained real, not just intel­lec­tu­al empa­thy. I was pre­pared to go through life with­out hav­ing suf­fered, and I was doing a good job of it. Now I know what it’s like to starve. And to accept “that over which I have no con­trol,” I had to turn inward. Peo­ple from all over my life are recon­nect­ing with me, and I’ve tried to take respon­si­bil­i­ty for my deeds, good and bad. As my friend Tim­o­thy Leary said in his book, Death by Design, “Even if you’ve been a com­plete slob your whole life, if you can end the last act with panache, that’s what they’ll remem­ber.”

I think I’ve final­ly grown up.

When Davis said that “some of my best friends are dead peo­ple,” he was prob­a­bly think­ing of Tim­o­thy Leary and Jer­ry Gar­cia too. Here, you can watch Davis and the Grate­ful Dead front­man cook a meal togeth­er, and above we bring you Franken & Davis con­duct­ing a Grate­ful Dead triv­ia con­test in 1980. Thanks to Tom for the mem­o­ries and laughs.

via NYTimes

Claude Monet at Work in His Famous Garden at Giverny: Rare Film from 1915

Yes­ter­day we showed you some star­tling footage of an elder­ly, arthrit­ic Pierre-Auguste Renoir, paint­ing with hor­ri­bly deformed hands. Today we offer a more idyl­lic image of a French Impres­sion­ist painter in his gold­en years: Claude Mon­et on a sun­ny day in his beau­ti­ful gar­den at Giverny.

Once again, the footage was pro­duced by Sacha Gui­t­ry for his project Ceux de Chez Nous, or “Those of Our Land.” It was shot in the sum­mer of 1915, when Mon­et was 74 years old. It was not the best time in Mon­et’s life. His sec­ond wife and eldest son had both died in the pre­vi­ous few years, and his eye­sight was get­ting pro­gres­sive­ly worse due to cataracts. But despite the emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal set­backs, Mon­et would soon rebound, mak­ing the last decade of his life (he died in 1926 at the age of 86) an extreme­ly pro­duc­tive peri­od in which he paint­ed many of his most famous stud­ies of water lilies.

At the begin­ning of the film clip we see Gui­t­ry and Mon­et talk­ing with each oth­er. Then Mon­et paints on a large can­vas beside a lily pond. It’s a shame the cam­era does­n’t show the paint­ing Mon­et is work­ing on, but it’s fas­ci­nat­ing to see the great artist all clad in white, a cig­a­rette dan­gling from his lips, paint­ing in his love­ly gar­den.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Impres­sion­ist Painter Edgar Degas Takes a Stroll in Paris, 1915

Rare Film of Sculp­tor Auguste Rodin Work­ing at His Stu­dio in Paris (1915)

Watch Hen­ri Matisse Sketch and Make His Famous Cut-Outs (1946)

 

The Mathematics of Spiderman and the Physics of Superheroes

I have not seen the new Spi­der­man reboot, so I’ll have to reserve judg­ment on the virtues of the movie. But, in gen­er­al, super­hero movies suc­ceed or fail for me based on how plau­si­ble and con­sis­tent the physics of the alter­nate uni­verse they cre­ate are. In the above video from the “Emory [Uni­ver­si­ty] Looks at Hol­ly­wood” series, Skip Garibal­di, pro­fes­sor of math­e­mat­ics (who pre­vi­ous­ly exam­ined the math of rock climb­ing) explains that the new Spi­der­man film does, with a minor excep­tion, por­tray the feats of Spi­der­man in a math­e­mat­i­cal­ly pos­si­ble way—granted that we’re will­ing to believe in super­pow­ers. For exam­ple, Spi­der­man’s grace­ful swings through the city on long strands of web­bing don’t just serve a cin­e­mat­ic pur­pose; they also keep him from pos­si­bly dis­lo­cat­ing his shoul­ders while com­ing to a full-stop from a free-fall.

Ana­lyz­ing the sci­ence of super­heroes is a fun side­line for pop cul­ture-mind­ed sci­en­tists. In some cas­es, it can be an effec­tive teach­ing tool as well. Uni­ver­si­ty of Min­neso­ta physi­cist and com­ic book fan James Kakalios devotes an entire lec­ture to “The Uncan­ny Physics of Super­hero Com­ic Books.” Kakalios, who has writ­ten a book called the Physics of Super­heroesworked as a sci­ence con­sul­tant on the Spi­der­man reboot and on Zack Snyder’s adap­ta­tion of Watch­men, which he dis­cuss­es below.

Many great physics cours­es (some intro­duc­to­ry, some advanced) can be found in the Physics sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 500 Free Online Cours­es.

Hours of Classic Crime and Mystery Movies. Discover Our Film Noir and Alfred Hitchcock Collections

Above you’ll find Alfred Hitch­cock­’s Num­ber Sev­en­teen, free to watch in its entire­ty. Released in 1932, the film finds a gang of jew­el thieves des­per­ate to hide their lat­est boun­ty, a dia­mond neck­lace. Just when they think they’ve found the per­fect house in which to stash it — the Num­ber Sev­en­teen of the title — their plans begin to unrav­el when var­i­ous out­siders (includ­ing but not lim­it­ed to a sneaky police detec­tive) turn up there. Hitch­cock deliv­ers this sto­ry with an odd mix of sus­pense and com­e­dy, and, per­haps as a result, it has­n’t been one of his most wide­ly seen pic­tures. But you can watch it with a click of a mouse, just as you can any of the films in our col­lec­tion of 21 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online. There you can expe­ri­ence many evenings of enter­tain­ment from the Eng­lish-turned-Amer­i­can mas­ter of twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry cin­e­mat­ic sus­pense. From his Daphne du Mau­ri­er adap­ta­tion Jamaica Inn to his ear­ly hit The 39 Steps to his British ver­sion of The Man Who Knew Too Much, Hitch­cock deliv­ers ship­wrecks, con­spir­a­cies, para­noia, and uneasy roman­tic intrigue — all at no charge.

And if you watch all 21 free Hitch­cock pic­tures, don’t wor­ry; we’ve got more crime and mys­tery in store for you. Look no fur­ther than our col­lec­tion of Free Film Noir Movies. Just above, we’ve embed­ded He Walked by Night, a grit­ty tale of post­war Los Ange­les star­ring Drag­net’s Jack Webb. The film would go on to pro­vide the basis for Drag­net itself. Or per­haps you’d pre­fer to watch The Lady from Shang­hai, star­ring and direct­ed by Orson Welles, which mix­es film noir tra­di­tions with Welles’ own idio­syn­crat­ic, some­times per­fec­tion­ist and some­times down­right anti-per­fec­tion ten­den­cies; “the weird­est great movie ever made,” crit­ic Dave Kehr called it. If you’re look­ing for more noir Welles, our col­lec­tion also con­tains The Stranger, his pre­vi­ous film. Star­ring Edward G. Robin­son as a Nazi hunter, it came out as the first film after the Sec­ond World War to actu­al­ly include footage of con­cen­tra­tion camps. Both our noir and Hitch­cock col­lec­tions con­tain a great deal of his­to­ry as well as a great deal of craft. They may not make movies like these any­more, but now it’s eas­i­er than ever to watch the ones they made back then.

Relat­ed con­tent:

500 Free Movies Online

Alfred Hitch­cock: A Rare Look Into the Filmmaker’s Cre­ative Mind

François Truffaut’s Big Inter­view with Alfred Hitch­cock (Free Audio)

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was the Genius Behind Cit­i­zen Kane

100 Great­est Posters of Film Noir

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Bob Dylan’s (In)Famous Electric Guitar From the Newport Folk Festival Discovered?

On July 25, 1965, Bob Dylan returned to the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val, now the head­line act. The purist audi­ence expect­ed to hear some Dylan clas­sics played with an acoustic gui­tar — some­thing like “Blowin’ In The Wind” and “Mr. Tam­bourine Man.” They got any­thing but. Dylan trad­ed in his Gib­son acoustic gui­tar for a Fend­er Stra­to­cast­er, and began to bang out elec­tri­fied ver­sions of “Mag­gie’s Farm” and “Like a Rolling Stone” (see above). Pete Seeger, the folk icon, lost his cool and famous­ly threat­ened, “If I had an axe, I’d chop the micro­phone cable right now.” The crowd booed (for rea­sons that some now inter­pret dif­fer­ent­ly). Dylan abrupt­ly left the stage, only to return with an acoustic gui­tar in hand. Lat­er, dur­ing his 1965–66 world tour, embit­tered fans called him “Judas!”

Every­thing changed the moment Dylan went elec­tric at New­port. Dylan’s own music, folk music, rock ’n’ roll — they all moved in new direc­tions. And the gui­tar at the cen­ter of the con­tro­ver­sy, it went silent for almost five decades … until now. This week, the PBS pro­gram His­to­ry Detec­tives aired an episode that tried to deter­mine whether Dylan’s elec­tric axe may have wound up in the hands of Dawn Peter­son, the daugh­ter of a pilot who flew planes board­ed by Dylan and oth­er folk musi­cians. The foren­sic evi­dence sug­gests that it’s the real deal. But Dylan, through his lawyers, insists that he’s still in pos­ses­sion of the his­to­ry-mak­ing gui­tar. It’s anoth­er lay­er of con­tro­ver­sy that began 47 years ago.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A His­to­ry of Rock ‘n’ Roll in 100 Riffs

Mak­ing Fend­er Gui­tars, Then (1959) and Now (2012)

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of “Kash­mir”

Here Comes The Sun: The Lost Gui­tar Solo by George Har­ri­son

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Shakespeare’s Satirical Sonnet 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

“My mis­tress’ eyes are noth­ing like the sun,” begins Son­net 130 by William Shake­speare. But why read the rest when you can see and hear it, in the video above, from Stephen Fry? No mat­ter how often I’ve wished the voice inside my head could sound like his, I just can’t mas­ter intracra­nial­ly repli­cat­ing his dis­tinc­tive com­bi­na­tion of accent and man­ner. This defi­cien­cy both­ers me espe­cial­ly when read­ing works as wor­thy as Shake­speare’s son­nets. Son­net 130 in par­tic­u­lar, a satire of the increas­ing­ly and obvi­ous­ly hyper­bol­ic odes to female beau­ty pop­u­lar in Shake­speare’s day, prac­ti­cal­ly demands a per­sona as dry­ly know­ing as Fry’s. But nei­ther Fry in any of his work nor the Shake­speare of Son­net 130 seem con­tent to sim­ply pop bal­loons of grotesque­ly over­in­flat­ed sen­ti­ment. They know that, in refus­ing to trot out grand­ly tired com­par­isons of lips to coral and cheeks to ros­es, they pay their sub­jects a more last­ing, gen­uine trib­ute in the end.

Fry’s read­ing comes from a new iPad app, Shake­speare’s Son­nets. In an appar­ent real­iza­tion of all those lit­er­ary “mul­ti­me­dia expe­ri­ences” we dreamed of but could nev­er quite achieve in the mid-nineties, it presents the 154 son­nets as they looked in their 1609 quar­to edi­tion with schol­ar­ly notes, com­men­tary, and inter­views with experts. Oth­er per­form­ers enlist­ed to read them include Patrick Stew­art (pre­sum­ably anoth­er sine qua non for such a project), David Ten­nant, and — because hey, why not — Kim Cat­trall. A fine idea, but new-media vision­ar­ies should take note that I and many oth­ers are even now wait­ing for apps ded­i­cat­ed to noth­ing more than Stephen Fry read­ing things. Some­one’s got to cap­i­tal­ize on this demand.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Shake­speare in the Orig­i­nal Voice

Shakespeare’s Julius Cae­sar Read in Celebri­ty Voic­es

Acclaimed BBC Pro­duc­tion of Ham­let, Star­ring David Ten­nant (Doc­tor Who) and Patrick Stew­art (Star Trek)

City Poems: A New Lit­er­ary iPhone App

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.