The Turin Erotic Papyrus: The Oldest Known Depiction of Human Sexuality (Circa 1150 B.C.E.)

Turin_Erotic_Papyrus

With the old joke about every gen­er­a­tion think­ing they invent­ed sex, List­verse brings us the papyrus above, the old­est depic­tion of sex on record. Paint­ed some­time in the Rames­side Peri­od (1292–1075 B.C.E.), the frag­ments above—called the “Turin Erot­ic Papyrus” because of their “dis­cov­ery” in the Egypt­ian Muse­um of Turin, Italy—only hint at the frank ver­sions of ancient sex they depict (see a graph­ic par­tial recon­struc­tion at the bot­tom of the post—probably NSFW). The num­ber of sex­u­al posi­tions the papyrus illustrates—twelve in all—“fall some­where between impres­sive­ly acro­bat­ic and unnerv­ing­ly ambi­tious,” one even involv­ing a char­i­ot. Apart from its obvi­ous fer­til­i­ty sym­bols, writes archae­ol­o­gy blog Ancient Peo­ples, the papyrus also has a “humor­ous and/or satir­i­cal” pur­pose, and prob­a­bly a male audience—evidenced, per­haps, by its resem­blance to 70’s porn: “the men are most­ly unkept, unshaven, and bald­ing […], where­as the women are the ide­al of beau­ty in Egypt.”

Turin Animals

In fact the erot­ic por­tion of the papyrus was only made pub­lic in the 1970’s. Egyp­tol­o­gists have known of the larg­er scroll, tech­ni­cal­ly called “Papyrus Turin 55001” since the 1820s. On the right side of the papyrus (above) ani­mals per­form var­i­ous human tasks as musi­cians, sol­diers, and arti­sans. The artist meant this piece too as satire, Ancient Peo­ples alleges. Like ancient Roman and Greek satir­i­cal art, the ani­mals may rep­re­sent sup­posed arche­typ­al aspects of the artists and trades­men shown here. All very inter­est­ing, but of course the real inter­est in Papyrus Turin 55001 is of the pruri­ent vari­ety.

Egyp­tol­ogy stu­dent Car­o­line Sea­wright points us toward the rather lurid His­to­ry Chan­nel seg­ment on the erot­ic papyrus above, which calls the pic­tures “full on pornog­ra­phy” and “one of the most shock­ing sets of images in the whole of antiq­ui­ty.” Against a per­cep­tion of ancient Egyp­tians as “but­toned-up and repressed,” the video, and Sea­wright, detail the ways in which the cul­ture rev­eled in a styl­ized rit­u­al sex­u­al­i­ty quite dif­fer­ent from our own lim­it­ed mores.

Sacred tem­ple pros­ti­tutes held a priv­i­leged posi­tion and mytho­log­i­cal nar­ra­tives incor­po­rat­ed unbi­ased descrip­tions of homo­sex­u­al­i­ty and trans­gen­derism. Ancient Egyp­tians even expect­ed to have sex after death, attach­ing fab­ri­cat­ed organs to their mum­mies. The above applies main­ly to a cer­tain class of Egypt­ian. As archae­ol­o­gist David O’Connor points out, the Turin Erot­ic Papyrus’ high “artis­tic mer­it” marks it as with­in the prove­nance of “an elite own­er and audi­ence.” You can find more detailed images from a dif­fer­ent recon­struc­tion of the erot­ic papyrus here.

Turin Reconstruction

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Old­est Known Illus­tra­tion of Cir­cum­ci­sion (2400 B.C.E.)

Lis­ten to the Old­est Song in the World: A Sumer­ian Hymn Writ­ten 3,400 Years Ago

The First Sex Man­u­al Pub­lished in North Amer­i­ca, 1766

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

A Pre-Pantone Guide to Colors: Dutch Book From 1692 Documents Every Color Under the Sun

In 1963, the Pan­tone cor­po­ra­tion began pub­lish­ing a bi-year­ly col­or guide, which divides and cat­e­go­rizes every col­or under the sun. The aston­ish­ing­ly ubiq­ui­tous guide is an essen­tial tool for design­ers of every stripe, from a fash­ion guru fig­ur­ing out what col­or to high­light in her fall line to the guy in charge of cre­at­ing a col­or palette for the inte­ri­or of a new Boe­ing-787.

Twice a year, Pan­tone, along with a shad­owy cabal of col­orists from around the world, meet in a Euro­pean city and, with the secre­cy of the Vat­i­can choos­ing a new pope, they select the col­or of the sea­son.

They are the rea­son why you paint­ed your kitchen Wasabi Green a cou­ple years ago and why, whether you want to or not, you’ll be wear­ing Radi­ant Orchid next year. Slate did a great write up about the whole con­fus­ing process a while back.

Over 250 years before the Col­or-Indus­tri­al Com­plex reared its head, a mys­te­ri­ous Dutch artist also detailed every col­or in the spec­trum, only he did it all by hand. Known by the snick­er-induc­ing name of A. Boogert, the author set out to demon­strate how to mix water­col­or paint and how to manip­u­late the paint’s val­ue by adding water. Yet he approached his task with a stag­ger­ing lev­el of detail and depth; the result­ing book — Traité des couleurs ser­vant à la pein­ture à l’eau — is over 700 pages. It’s about as thor­ough a col­or guide as one could imag­ine in a world with­out col­or print­ers.

The book was large­ly for­got­ten, gath­er­ing dust at the Bib­lio­thèque Méjanes in Aix-en-Provence, France until Dutch art his­to­ri­an Erik Kwakkel, who trans­lat­ed the intro­duc­tion, post­ed selec­tions from the book on his blog. Herr Boogert appar­ent­ly intend­ed the book to be edu­ca­tion­al for aspir­ing artists. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, only a few artists at the time ever got a chance to see the one-of-a-kind book.

You can see scans of the book above. And if you want to more, click here to see them in high res­o­lu­tion.

For more intrigu­ing man­u­scripts, be sure to fol­low Erik Kwakkel’s Tum­blr here.

pre pantone

via This is Colos­sal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Goethe’s The­o­ry of Col­ors: The 1810 Trea­tise That Inspired Kandin­sky & Ear­ly Abstract Paint­ing

Wass­i­ly Kandin­sky Caught in the Act of Cre­ation, 1926

When Respect­ed Authors, from Goethe to Hen­ry Miller, Try Their Hand at Paint­ing

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

130 Free Microsoft eBooks & Guides

msft

Quick fyi: Eric Lig­man, a Microsoft Sales Excel­lence Man­ag­er, has gath­ered togeth­er a big list of free Microsoft ebooks and resource guides that will help you nav­i­gate through var­i­ous Microsoft issues. Some of the texts are geared toward con­sumers; oth­ers toward IT pro­fes­sion­als work­ing with Microsoft prod­ucts. A few handy titles include:

Most titles are made avail­able as in epub, pdf, and mobi for­mats.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Com­put­er Sci­ence Cours­es

Free Text­books: Com­put­er Sci­ence

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices

Roger Ebert’s Final List of His Top 10 Favorite Films

roger-ebert-list

Image by Sound Opin­ions, via Flickr Com­mons

Roger Ebert seems to have resent­ed star rat­ings, which he had to dish out atop each and every one of his hun­dreds upon hun­dreds of reg­u­lar news­pa­per movie reviews. He also empha­sized, every once in a while, his dis­dain for the “thumbs up” and “thumbs down” sys­tem that became his and Gene Siskel’s tele­vi­sion trade­mark. And he could hard­ly ever abide that run-of-the-mill crit­ic’s stand­by, the top-ten list. Film­go­ers who nev­er paid atten­tion to Ebert’s career will like­ly, at this point, insist that the man nev­er real­ly liked any­thing, but those of us who read him for years, even decades, know the true depth and scope of his love for movies, a pas­sion he even expressed, reg­u­lar­ly, in list form. He did so for, as he put it, “the one sin­gle list of inter­est to me. Every 10 years, the ancient and ven­er­a­ble British film mag­a­zine, Sight & Sound, polls the world’s direc­tors, movie crit­ics, and assort­ed pro­duc­ers, cin­e­math­eque oper­a­tors and fes­ti­val direc­tors, etc., to deter­mine the Great­est Films of All Time.”

“Why do I val­ue this poll more than oth­ers?” Ebert asks. “It has sen­ti­men­tal val­ue. The first time I saw it in the mag­a­zine, I was much impressed by the names of the vot­ers, and felt a thrill to think that I might some­day be invit­ed to join their num­bers. I was teach­ing a film course in the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chicago’s Fine Arts Pro­gram, and taught class­es of the top ten films in 1972, 1982 and 1992.” His dream came true, and when he wrote this reflec­tion on send­ing in his list every decade, he did so a year near­ly to the day before his death in 2013, mak­ing his entry in the 2012 Sight & Sound poll a kind of last top-ten tes­ta­ment:

Decid­ing that he must vote for “one new film” he had­n’t includ­ed on his 2002 list, Ebert nar­rowed it down to two can­di­dates: The Tree of Life and Char­lie Kauf­man’s Synec­doche, New York. “Like the Her­zog, the Kubrick and the Cop­po­la, they are films of almost fool­hardy ambi­tion. Like many of the films on my list, they were direct­ed by the artist who wrote them. Like sev­er­al of them, they attempt no less than to tell the sto­ry of an entire life. [ … ] I could have cho­sen either film — I chose The Tree of Life because it’s more affir­ma­tive and hope­ful. I realise that isn’t a defen­si­ble rea­son for choos­ing one film over the oth­er, but it is my rea­son, and mak­ing this list is essen­tial­ly impos­si­ble, any­way.”  That did­n’t stop his cinephil­ia from pre­vail­ing — not that much ever could.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roger Ebert Talks Mov­ing­ly About Los­ing and Re-Find­ing His Voice (TED 2011)

The Two Roger Eberts: Emphat­ic Crit­ic on TV; Inci­sive Review­er in Print

Roger Ebert Lists the 10 Essen­tial Char­ac­ter­is­tics of Noir Films

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Listen to the Oldest Song in the World: A Sumerian Hymn Written 3,400 Years Ago

In the ear­ly 1950s, archae­ol­o­gists unearthed sev­er­al clay tablets from the 14th cen­tu­ry B.C.E.. Found, WFMU tells us, “in the ancient Syr­i­an city of Ugar­it,” these tablets “con­tained cuneiform signs in the hur­ri­an lan­guage,” which turned out to be the old­est known piece of music ever dis­cov­ered, a 3,400 year-old cult hymn. Anne Draf­fko­rn Kilmer, pro­fes­sor of Assyri­ol­o­gy at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia, pro­duced the inter­pre­ta­tion above in 1972. (She describes how she arrived at the musi­cal notation—in some tech­ni­cal detail—in this inter­view.) Since her ini­tial pub­li­ca­tions in the 60s on the ancient Sumer­ian tablets and the musi­cal the­o­ry found with­in, oth­er schol­ars of the ancient world have pub­lished their own ver­sions.

The piece, writes Richard Fink in a 1988 Arche­olo­gia Musi­calis arti­cle, con­firms a the­o­ry that “the 7‑note dia­ton­ic scale as well as har­mo­ny exist­ed 3,400 years ago.” This, Fink tells us, “flies in the face of most musicologist’s views that ancient har­mo­ny was vir­tu­al­ly non-exis­tent (or even impos­si­ble) and the scale only about as old as the Ancient Greeks.” Kilmer’s col­league Richard Crock­er claims that the dis­cov­ery “rev­o­lu­tion­ized the whole con­cept of the ori­gin of west­ern music.” So, aca­d­e­m­ic debates aside, what does the old­est song in the world sound like? Lis­ten to a midi ver­sion below and hear it for your­self. Doubt­less, the midi key­board was not the Sume­ri­ans instru­ment of choice, but it suf­fices to give us a sense of this strange com­po­si­tion, though the rhythm of the piece is only a guess.

Kilmer and Crock­er pub­lished an audio book on vinyl (now on CD) called Sounds From Silence in which they nar­rate infor­ma­tion about ancient Near East­ern music, and, in an accom­pa­ny­ing book­let, present pho­tographs and trans­la­tions of the tablets from which the song above comes. They also give lis­ten­ers an inter­pre­ta­tion of the song, titled “A Hur­ri­an Cult Song from Ancient Ugar­it,” per­formed on a lyre, an instru­ment like­ly much clos­er to what the song’s first audi­ences heard. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, for that ver­sion, you’ll have to make a pur­chase, but you can hear a dif­fer­ent lyre inter­pre­ta­tion of the song by Michael Levy below, as tran­scribed by its orig­i­nal dis­cov­er­er Dr. Richard Dum­b­rill.

via WFMU

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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:

What Ancient Greek Music Sound­ed Like: Hear a Recon­struc­tion That is ‘100% Accu­rate’

Hear The Epic of Gil­gamesh Read in the Orig­i­nal Akka­di­an and Enjoy the Sounds of Mesopotamia

Learn Latin, Old Eng­lish, San­skrit, Clas­si­cal Greek & Oth­er Ancient Lan­guages in 10 Lessons

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

Read Online J.K. Rowling’s New Harry Potter Story: The First Glimpse of Harry as an Adult

rowling new story

Quick note: Ear­li­er this year, J. K. Rowl­ing began writ­ing new sto­ries about the 2014 Quid­ditch World Cup Finals for Pot­ter­more, the web­site for all things Har­ry Pot­ter. Today, she fol­lowed up with a sto­ry that takes the form of an arti­cle pub­lished in The Dai­ly Prophet: “Dumbledore’s Army Reunites at Quid­ditch World Cup Final” by Rita Skeeter. Here, Rowl­ing gives us the first glimpse of the adult Har­ry Pot­ter.

About to turn 34, there are a cou­ple of threads of sil­ver in the famous Auror’s black hair, but he con­tin­ues to wear the dis­tinc­tive round glass­es that some might say are bet­ter suit­ed to a style-defi­cient twelve-year-old. The famous light­ning scar has com­pa­ny: Pot­ter is sport­ing a nasty cut over his right cheek­bone. Requests for infor­ma­tion as to its prove­nance mere­ly pro­duced the usu­al response from the Min­istry of Mag­ic: ‘We do not com­ment on the top secret work of the Auror depart­ment, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.’ So what are they hid­ing? Is the Cho­sen One embroiled in fresh mys­ter­ies that will one day explode upon us all, plung­ing us into a new age of ter­ror and may­hem?

You can read the full sto­ry on Pot­ter­more, where reg­is­tra­tion is required. Or the com­plete sto­ry can also be read on Today.com (with­out reg­is­tra­tion).

via i09

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How J.K. Rowl­ing Plot­ted Har­ry Pot­ter with a Hand-Drawn Spread­sheet

Take Free Online Cours­es at Hog­warts: Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts & More

The Quan­tum Physics of Har­ry Pot­ter, Bro­ken Down By a Physi­cist and a Magi­cian

Cel­e­brate Har­ry Potter’s Birth­day with Song. Daniel Rad­cliffe Sings Tom Lehrer’s Tune, The Ele­ments.

Har­ry Pot­ter Pre­quel Now Online

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Marcel Duchamp, Chess Enthusiast, Created an Art Deco Chess Set That’s Now Available via 3D Printer

What would Mar­cel Duchamp have thought of the age of 3D print­ing, had he fore­seen it? I reck­on that the inven­tor of the “ready­made” work of art — i.e., a piece found in the real world and placed into an artis­tic con­text, as he famously/infamously did with a uri­nal for 1917’s Foun­tain — would endorse it as the log­i­cal exten­sion of his own cre­ative prin­ci­ples. But man, espe­cial­ly a man like Duchamp, does not live by recon­tex­tu­al­ized plumb­ing alone: he also paint­ed, sculpt­ed, and even carved. This last prac­tice result­ed, after some time in Buenos Aires the year after Foun­tain, in his very own one-of-a-kind Art Deco chess set. But now this unique item has turned ready­made, so Boing­bo­ing reports via Kot­tke, as “freely down­load­able 3D print-files on Thin­gi­verse, where the com­mu­ni­ty is active­ly remix­ing them” into ver­sions “like this one, with self-sup­port­ing over­hangs.”

duchamp_ba_chess_set_proa

Duchamp him­self, who appears in the video at the top of the post describ­ing his pas­sion for chess, sure­ly would have enjoyed all this. After his time in Buenos Aires, he moved to Paris, then to Amer­i­ca, and, in 1923, back to Paris again, by which time he’d ded­i­cat­ed him­self almost ful­ly to the game. Chess has obsessed many of human­i­ty’s finest minds over cen­turies and cen­turies, and Duchamp seems to have shown lit­tle resis­tance to its intel­lec­tu­al and aes­thet­ic pull. Still, just as he crossed chess and art when he craft­ed his Art Deco set (pic­tured above), he did it again in 1925, when he not only com­pet­ed in the Third French Chess Cham­pi­onship (earn­ing the title of grand mas­ter as a result) but also designed its strik­ing poster below. The New York Times’ Hol­land Cot­ter, review­ing the Fran­cis M. Nau­mann Fine Arts show “Mar­cel Duchamp: The Art of Chess,” writes that Duchamp ulti­mate­ly found his two pas­sions not just rec­on­cil­able but “com­ple­men­tary, an ide­al inter­sec­tion of brain­pow­er and beau­ty. Chess was art; art was chess. Every­thing was about mak­ing the right moves.”

To delve deep­er, you can explore the book, Mar­cel Duchamp: The Art of Chess by Fran­cis M. Nau­mann.

DuchampPoster

via Boing­bo­ing/Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Anémic Ciné­ma: Mar­cel Duchamp’s Whirling Avant-Garde Film (1926)

Free App Lets You Play Chess With 23-Year-Old Nor­we­gian World Cham­pi­on Mag­nus Carlsen

A Famous Chess Match from 1910 Reen­act­ed with Clay­ma­tion

Chess Rivals Bob­by Fis­ch­er and Boris Spassky Meet in the ‘Match of the Cen­tu­ry’

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

William Faulkner’s Review of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (1952)

Hemingway.Faulkner

Images via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In the mid-20th cen­tu­ry, the two big dogs in the Amer­i­can lit­er­ary scene were William Faulkn­er and Ernest Hem­ing­way. Both were inter­na­tion­al­ly revered, both were mas­ters of the nov­el and the short sto­ry, and both won Nobel Prizes.

Born in Mis­sis­sip­pi, Faulkn­er wrote alle­gor­i­cal his­to­ries of the South in a style that is both ellip­ti­cal and chal­leng­ing. His works were marked by uses of stream-of-con­scious­ness and shift­ing points of view. He also favored titan­i­cal­ly long sen­tences, hold­ing the record for hav­ing, accord­ing to the Guin­ness Book of Records, the longest sen­tence in lit­er­a­ture. Open your copy of Absa­lom! Absa­lom! to chap­ter 6 and you’ll find it. Hem­ing­way, on the oth­er hand, famous­ly sand­blast­ed the florid prose of Vic­to­ri­an-era books into short, terse, decep­tive­ly sim­ple sen­tences. His sto­ries were about root­less, dam­aged, cos­mopoli­tan peo­ple in exot­ic loca­tions like Paris or the Serengeti.

If you type in “Faulkn­er and Hem­ing­way” in your favorite search engine, you’ll like­ly stum­ble upon this famous exchange — Faulkn­er on Hem­ing­way: “He has nev­er been known to use a word that might send a read­er to the dic­tio­nary.” Hem­ing­way: “Poor Faulkn­er. Does he real­ly think big emo­tions come from big words?” Zing! Faulkn­er report­ed­ly didn’t mean for the line to come off as an insult but Hem­ing­way took it as one. The inci­dent end­ed up being the most acri­mo­nious in the two authors’ com­pli­cat­ed rela­tion­ship.

While Faulkn­er and Hem­ing­way nev­er for­mal­ly met, they were reg­u­lar cor­re­spon­dents, and each was keen­ly aware of the other’s tal­ents. And they were com­pet­i­tive with each oth­er, espe­cial­ly Hem­ing­way who was much more inse­cure than you might sur­mise from his macho per­sona. While Hem­ing­way reg­u­lar­ly called Faulkn­er “the best of us all,” mar­veling at his nat­ur­al abil­i­ties, he also ham­mered Faulkn­er for resort­ing to tricks. As he wrote to Har­vey Bre­it, the famed crit­ic for The New York Times, “If you have to write the longest sen­tence in the world to give a book dis­tinc­tion, the next thing you should hire Bill Veek [sic] and use midgets.”

Faulkn­er, on his end, was no less com­pet­i­tive. He once told the New York Her­ald Tri­bune, “I think he’s the best we’ve got.” On the oth­er hand, he bris­tled when an edi­tor men­tioned get­ting Hem­ing­way to write the pref­ace for The Portable Faulkn­er in 1946. “It seems to me in bad taste to ask him to write a pref­ace to my stuff. It’s like ask­ing one race horse in the mid­dle of a race to broad­cast a blurb on anoth­er horse in the same run­ning field.”

When Bre­it asked Faulkn­er to write a review of Hemingway’s 1952 novel­la The Old Man and the Sea, he refused. Yet when a cou­ple months lat­er he got the same request from Wash­ing­ton and Lee University’s lit­er­ary jour­nal, Shenan­doah, Faulkn­er relent­ed, giv­ing guard­ed praise to the nov­el in a one para­graph-long review. You can read it below.

His best. Time may show it to be the best sin­gle piece of any of us, I mean his and my con­tem­po­raries. This time, he dis­cov­ered God, a Cre­ator. Until now, his men and women had made them­selves, shaped them­selves out of their own clay; their vic­to­ries and defeats were at the hands of each oth­er, just to prove to them­selves or one anoth­er how tough they could be. But this time, he wrote about pity: about some­thing some­where that made them all: the old man who had to catch the fish and then lose it, the fish that had to be caught and then lost, the sharks which had to rob the old man of his fish; made them all and loved them all and pitied them all. It’s all right. Praise God that what­ev­er made and loves and pities Hem­ing­way and me kept him from touch­ing it any fur­ther.

And you can also watch below a fas­ci­nat­ing talk by schol­ar Joseph Frus­cione about how Faulkn­er and Hem­ing­way com­pet­ed and influ­enced each oth­er. He wrote the recent book, Faulkn­er and Hem­ing­way: Biog­ra­phy of a Lit­er­ary Rival­ry .

via Bib­liok­lept

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

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

See a Beau­ti­ful­ly Hand-Paint­ed Ani­ma­tion of Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (1999)

The Art of William Faulkn­er: Draw­ings from 1916–1925

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

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