The New York Public Library Lets You Download 180,000 Images in High Resolution: Historic Photographs, Maps, Letters & More

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Most of us Open Cul­ture writ­ers and read­ers sure­ly grew up think­ing of the local pub­lic library as an end­less source of fas­ci­nat­ing things. But the New York Pub­lic Library’s col­lec­tions take that to a whole oth­er lev­el, and, so far, they’ve spent the age of the inter­net tak­ing it to a lev­el beyond that, dig­i­tiz­ing ever more of their fas­ci­nat­ing things and mak­ing them freely avail­able for all of our perusal (and even for use in our own work). Just in the past cou­ple of years, we’ve fea­tured their release of 20,000 high-res­o­lu­tion maps, 17,000 restau­rant menus, and lots of the­ater ephemera.

This week, The New York Pub­lic Library (NYPL) announced not only that their dig­i­tal col­lec­tion now con­tains over 180,000 items, but that they’ve made it pos­si­ble, “no per­mis­sion required, no hoops to jump through,” to down­load and use high-res­o­lu­tion images of all of them.

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You’ll find on their site “more promi­nent down­load links and fil­ters high­light­ing restric­tion-free con­tent,” and, if you have techi­er inter­ests, “updates to the Dig­i­tal Col­lec­tions API enabling bulk use and analy­sis, as well as data exports and util­i­ties post­ed to NYPL’s GitHub account.” You might also con­sid­er apply­ing for the NYPL’s Remix Res­i­den­cy pro­gram, designed to fos­ter “trans­for­ma­tive and cre­ative uses of dig­i­tal col­lec­tions and data, and the pub­lic domain assets in par­tic­u­lar.”

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And what do those assets include? Endur­ing pieces of Amer­i­can doc­u­men­tary art like the Farm Secu­ri­ty Admin­is­tra­tion pho­tographs tak­en dur­ing the Great Depres­sion by Dorothea Lange, Walk­er Evans, and Gor­don Parks. Lange’s shot of the Mid­way Dairy Coop­er­a­tive near San­ta Ana, Cal­i­for­nia appears at the top of the post. Arti­facts from the cre­ative process­es of such icons of Amer­i­can lit­er­a­ture as Hen­ry David Thore­auNathaniel Hawthorne, and Walt Whit­man, whose hand­writ­ten pref­ace to Spec­i­men Days you’ll find sec­ond from the top. The let­ters and oth­er papers of the Found­ing Fathers, includ­ing Thomas Jef­fer­son­’s list of books for a pri­vate library just above. And, of course, all those maps, like the 1868 Plan of New York and Brook­lyn just below.

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These selec­tions make the NYPL’s dig­i­tal col­lec­tion seem strong­ly Amer­i­ca-focused, and to an extent it is, but apart from host­ing a rich repos­i­to­ry of the his­to­ry, art, and let­ters of the Unit­ed States, it also con­tains such fas­ci­nat­ing inter­na­tion­al mate­ri­als as medieval Euro­pean illu­mi­nat­ed man­u­scripts16th-cen­tu­ry hand­scrolls illus­trat­ing The Tale of Gen­ji, the first nov­el; and 19th-cen­tu­ry cyan­otypes of British algae by botanist and pho­tog­ra­ph­er Anna Atkins, the first per­son to pub­lish a book illus­trat­ed with pho­tos. You can start your own brows­ing on the NYPL Dig­i­tal Col­lec­tions front page, and if you do, you’ll soon find that some­thing else we knew about the library grow­ing up — what good places they make in which to get lost — holds even truer on the inter­net.

nypl.digitalcollections.510d47da-ec3d-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w

Relat­ed Con­tent:

100,000+ Won­der­ful Pieces of The­ater Ephemera Dig­i­tized by The New York Pub­lic Library

Food­ie Alert: New York Pub­lic Library Presents an Archive of 17,000 Restau­rant Menus (1851–2008)

New York Pub­lic Library Puts 20,000 Hi-Res Maps Online & Makes Them Free to Down­load and Use

The British Library Puts 1,000,000 Images into the Pub­lic Domain, Mak­ing Them Free to Reuse & Remix

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.

Bruce Lee’s Only Surviving TV Interview, 1971: Lost and Now Found

Bruce Lee’s TV act­ing career began in 1966, when he land­ed a part in The Green Hor­net. (Watch his thrilling audi­tion here). But it took anoth­er five years before he gave his first–and, it turns out, only tele­vi­sion inter­view in Eng­lish. For 25 min­utes in Decem­ber 1971, the mar­tial arts star sat down with Pierre Berton, a Cana­di­an jour­nal­ist, in Hong Kong. And their con­ver­sa­tion cov­ered a fair amount of ground – Lee’s suc­cess star­ring in Man­darin films .… despite only speak­ing Can­tonese; his dif­fi­cul­ty devel­op­ing a career in a coun­try still hos­tile toward Chi­na; and his work train­ing oth­er Hol­ly­wood stars in the mar­tial arts.

Taped in 1971, the inter­view aired only once, then went miss­ing, and was­n’t found until 1994, when it final­ly aired again as a TV spe­cial called ”Bruce Lee: The Lost Inter­view’.’ First fea­tured on Open Cul­ture in 2011, the record­ing is now con­sid­ered his only sur­viv­ing on-cam­era inter­view and/or his only mean­ing­ful inter­view con­duct­ed in Eng­lish. A some­what restored ver­sion can be viewed on Vimeo here.

Fol­low Open Cul­ture on Face­book and Twit­ter and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bruce Lee Audi­tions for The Green Hor­net (1964)

The Poet­ry of Bruce Lee: Dis­cov­er the Artis­tic Life of the Mar­tial Arts Icon

Watch 10-Year-Old Bruce Lee in His First Star­ring Role (1950)

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The Simpsons Present Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” and Teachers Now Use It to Teach Kids the Joys of Literature

The Simp­sons have mocked or ref­er­enced lit­er­a­ture over its 27 (!!) sea­sons, usu­al­ly through a book Lisa was read­ing, or with guest appear­ances (e.g., Michael Chabon & Jonathan Franzen, Maya Angelou and Amy Tan). And it has ref­er­enced Edgar Allan Poe in both title (“The Tell-Tale Head” from the first sea­son) and in pass­ing (in “Lisa’s Rival” from 1994, the title char­ac­ter builds a dio­ra­ma based on the same Poe tale.)

But on the first ever “Tree­house of Hor­ror” from 1990–the Simp­sons’ recur­ring Hal­loween episode–they adapt­ed Poe’s “The Raven” more faith­ful­ly than any bit of lit found in any oth­er episode. The poem, read by James Earl Jones, remains intact, more or less, but with Dan Castellaneta’s Homer Simp­son pro­vid­ing the unnamed narrator’s voice. Marge makes an appear­ance as the long depart­ed Lenore, with hair so tall it needs an extra can­vas to con­tain it in por­trait. Mag­gie and Lisa are the censer-swing­ing seraphim, and Bart is the annoy­ing raven that dri­ves Homer insane.

Castel­lan­e­ta does a great job deliv­er­ing Poe’s verse with con­vic­tion and humor, while keep­ing the char­ac­ter true to both Homer and Poe. It’s a bal­anc­ing act hard­er than it sounds.

Suf­fice it to say that this for­ay into Poe was good enough for sev­er­al teach­ers guides (includ­ing this one from The New York Times) to sug­gest using the video in class. (We’d love to hear about this if you were a teacher or stu­dent who expe­ri­enced this.) And it’s the first and only time that Poe got co-writ­ing cred­it on a Simp­sons episode.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Simp­sons Pay Won­der­ful Trib­ute to the Ani­me of Hayao Miyaza­ki

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

Thomas Pyn­chon Edits His Lines on The Simp­sons: “Homer is my role mod­el and I can’t speak ill of him.”

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.

The Fascinating Story of How Delia Derbyshire Created the Original Doctor Who Theme

We’ve focused a fair bit here on the work of Delia Der­byshire, pio­neer­ing elec­tron­ic com­pos­er of the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry—fea­tur­ing two doc­u­men­taries on her and dis­cussing her role in almost cre­at­ing an elec­tron­ic back­ing track for Paul McCartney’s “Yes­ter­day.” There’s good rea­son to devote so much atten­tion to her: Derbyshire’s work with the BBC’s Radio­phon­ic Work­shop laid the bedrock for a good deal of the sound design we hear on TV and radio today.

And, as we point­ed out pre­vi­ous­ly, her elec­tron­ic music, record­ed under her own name and with the band White Noise, influ­enced “most every cur­rent leg­end in the business—from Aphex Twin and the Chem­i­cal Broth­ers to Paul Hart­noll of Orbital.” Along with doc­u­men­taries and high praise in the music press, the late Der­byshire now has her own Exhi­bi­tion at the Coven­try Music Muse­um, as of Decem­ber 6 of last year.

Yet for all her influ­ence among dance music com­posers and sound effects wiz­ards, Der­byshire and her music remain pret­ty obscure—that is except for one com­po­si­tion, instant­ly rec­og­niz­able as the orig­i­nal theme to the BBC’s sci-fit hit Doc­tor Who (hear it at the top), “the best-known work of a rag­tag group of tech­ni­cians,” writes The Atlantic, “who unwit­ting­ly helped shape the course of 20th-cen­tu­ry music.” Writ­ten by com­pos­er Ron Granier, the song was actu­al­ly brought into being by the Radio­phon­ic Work­shop, and by Der­byshire espe­cial­ly. The sto­ry of the Doc­tor Who theme’s cre­ation is almost as inter­est­ing as the tune itself, with its “swoop­ing, hiss­ing and puls­ing” that “man­ages to be at once haunt­ing, goofy and ethe­re­al.” Just above, you can see Der­byshire and her assis­tant Dick Mills tell it in brief.

What we learn from them is fas­ci­nat­ing, con­sid­er­ing that com­po­si­tions like this are now cre­at­ed in pow­er­ful com­put­er sys­tems with dozens of sep­a­rate tracks and dig­i­tal effects. The Doc­tor Who theme, on the oth­er hand, record­ed in 1963, was made even before basic ana­log syn­the­siz­ers came into use. “There are no musi­cians,” says Mills, “there are no syn­the­siz­ers, and in those days, we didn’t even have a 2‑track or a stereo machine, it was always mono.” (Despite pop­u­lar mis­con­cep­tions, the theme does not fea­ture a Theremin.) Der­byshire con­firms; each and every part of the song “was con­struct­ed on quar­ter-inch mono tape,” she says, “inch by inch by inch,” using such record­ing tech­niques as “fil­tered white noise” and some­thing called a “wob­bu­la­tor.” How were all of these painstak­ing­ly con­struct­ed indi­vid­ual parts com­bined with­out mul­ti track tech­nol­o­gy? “We cre­at­ed three sep­a­rate tapes,” Der­byshire explains, “put them onto three machines and stood next to them and said “Ready, steady, go!” and pushed all the ‘start’ but­tons at once. It seemed to work.”

The theme came about when Grain­er received a com­mis­sion from the BBC after his well-received work on oth­er series. He “com­posed the theme on a sin­gle sheet of A4 man­u­script,” writes Mark Ayres in an exten­sive online his­to­ry, “and sent it over from his home in Por­tu­gal, leav­ing the Work­shop to get on with it.” Aware that the musique con­crète tech­niques Der­byshire and her team used “were very time-con­sum­ing, Grain­er pro­vid­ed a very sim­ple com­po­si­tion, in essence just the famous bass line and a swoop­ing melody,” as well as vague­ly evoca­tive instruc­tions for orches­tra­tion like “wind bub­ble” and “cloud.” Ayres writes, “To an inven­tive radio­phon­ic com­pos­er such as Delia Der­byshire, this was a gift.” Indeed “upon hear­ing it,” The Atlantic notes, “a very impressed Grain­er bare­ly rec­og­nized it as his com­po­si­tion. Due to BBC poli­cies at the time, Granier—against his objections—is still offi­cial­ly cred­it­ed as the sole writer.” But the cred­it for this futur­is­tic work—which sounds absolute­ly like noth­ing else of the time and “which brought to a wide audi­ence meth­ods once exclu­sive to the high mod­ernism of exper­i­men­tal composition”—should equal­ly go to Der­byshire and her team. You can con­trast that ahead-of-its-time orig­i­nal theme with all of the iter­a­tions to fol­low in the video just above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Two Doc­u­men­taries Intro­duce Delia Der­byshire, the Pio­neer in Elec­tron­ic Music

Meet Delia Der­byshire, the Dr. Who Com­pos­er Who Almost Turned The Bea­t­les’ “Yes­ter­day” Into Ear­ly Elec­tron­i­ca

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

CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite Introduces America to Underground Films and the Velvet Underground (1965)


“Not every­one ‘digs’ under­ground movies, but those who do can ‘dig’ ’em here.” Now imag­ine those words spo­ken in the arche­typ­al so-square-it’s-cool con­sum­mate mid­cen­tu­ry news­cast­er voice — or actu­al­ly watch them enun­ci­at­ed in just that man­ner out on the steps of New York’s The Bridge, “one of sev­er­al small the­aters around the coun­try where ‘under­ground’ films are shown.” The report, which aired on CBS Evening News with Wal­ter Cronkite on Decem­ber 31st, 1965, intro­duced to main­stream Amer­i­cans such avant-garde film­mak­ers as Jonas Mekas, Stan Brakhage, and Andy Warhol — as well as a cer­tain band called the Vel­vet Under­ground.

This six-minute seg­ment spends some time with Piero Helicz­er, film­mak­er, poet, and “once the Jack­ie Coogan of Italy.” As Dan­ger­ous Minds’ Mar­tin Schnei­der writes, “When CBS came a‑callin’ to do its sto­ry, Helicz­er was shoot­ing a 12-minute short called Dirt, fea­tur­ing the Vel­vet Under­ground, and that was the scene Helicz­er hap­pened to be shoot­ing that day. (For some rea­son none of the fel­lows in the band are wear­ing a shirt.)” Schnei­der also quotes Vel­vet Under­ground found­ing mem­ber Ster­ling Mor­ri­son, who cred­its play­ing in Helicz­er’s “hap­pen­ings” with show­ing him the pos­si­bil­i­ties of exper­i­men­tal music: “The path ahead became sud­den­ly clear — I could work on music that was dif­fer­ent from ordi­nary rock & roll since Piero had giv­en us a con­text to per­form.”

I can only imag­ine how the view­ers of fifty years and one week ago must have react­ed to hear­ing these cut­ting-edge film­mak­ers dis­cussing “the nar­ra­tive aspect and the poet­ic aspect” of cin­e­ma, let alone see­ing clips of their works them­selves, right down to a rep­re­sen­ta­tive twen­ty sec­onds of Andy Warhol’s SleepIt even includes a clip from Brakhage’s Two: Creeley/McClure which must have made more than a few of them won­der if their set had sud­den­ly gone on the blink. But even the most staid of CBS’s audi­ence must have come away with a nov­el idea or two worth think­ing about, such as Brakhage’s stat­ed aim of mak­ing movies “for view­ing in a liv­ing room, rather than in a the­ater.” That, per­haps, they could dig.

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!

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three “Anti-Films” by Andy Warhol: Sleep, Eat & Kiss

A Sym­pho­ny of Sound (1966): Vel­vet Under­ground Impro­vis­es, Warhol Films It, Until the Cops Turn Up

Warhol’s Screen Tests: Lou Reed, Den­nis Hop­per, Nico, and More

New Wave Music–DEVO, Talk­ing Heads, Blondie, Elvis Costello–Gets Intro­duced to Amer­i­ca by ABC’s TV Show, 20/20 (1979)

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.

Meet the “Telharmonium,” the First Synthesizer (and Predecessor to Muzak), Invented in 1897

Before the New Year, we brought you footage of Russ­ian poly­math­ic inven­tor Léon Theremin demon­strat­ing the strange instru­ment that bears his sur­name, and we not­ed that the Theremin was the first elec­tron­ic instru­ment. This is not strict­ly true, though it is the first elec­tron­ic instru­ment to be mass pro­duced and wide­ly used in orig­i­nal com­po­si­tion and per­for­mance. But like bio­log­i­cal evo­lu­tion, the his­to­ry of musi­cal instru­ment devel­op­ment is lit­tered with dead ends, anom­alies, and for­got­ten ances­tors (such as the octo­bass). One such obscure odd­i­ty, the Tel­har­mo­ni­um, appeared almost 20 years before the Theremin, and it was patent­ed by its Amer­i­can inven­tor, Thad­deus Cahill, even ear­li­er, in 1897. (See some of the many dia­grams from the orig­i­nal patent below.)

Telharmonium 1

Cahill, a lawyer who had pre­vi­ous­ly invent­ed devices for pianos and type­writ­ers, cre­at­ed the Telharmonium—also called the Dynamaphone—to broad­cast music over the tele­phone, mak­ing it a pre­cur­sor not to the Theremin but to the lat­er scourge of tele­phone hold music. “In a large way,” writes Jay Willis­ton at Synthmuseum.com, “Cahill invent­ed what we know of today as ‘Muzak.’” He built the first pro­to­type Tel­har­mo­ni­um, the Mark I, in 1901. It weighed sev­en tons. The final incar­na­tion of the instru­ment, the Mark III, took 50 peo­ple to build at the cost of $200,000 and was “60 feet long, weighed almost 200 tons and incor­po­rat­ed over 2000 elec­tric switch­es…. Music was usu­al­ly played by two peo­ple (4 hands) and con­sist­ed of most­ly clas­si­cal works by Bach, Chopin, Greig, Rossi­ni and oth­ers.” The work­ings of the gar­gan­tu­an machine resem­ble the boil­er room of an indus­tri­al facil­i­ty. (See sev­er­al pho­tographs here.)

Telharmonium 2

Need­less to say, this was a high­ly imprac­ti­cal instru­ment. Nev­er­the­less, Cahill not only found will­ing investors for the enor­mous con­trap­tion, but he also staged suc­cess­ful demon­stra­tions in Bal­ti­more, then—after dis­as­sem­bling and mov­ing the thing by train—in New York. By 1905, his New Eng­land Elec­tric Music Com­pa­ny “made a deal with the New York Tele­phone Com­pa­ny to lay spe­cial lines so that he could trans­mit the sig­nals from the Tel­har­mo­ni­um through­out the city.” Cahill used the term “syn­the­siz­ing” in his patent, which some say makes the Tel­har­mo­ni­um the first syn­the­siz­er, though its oper­a­tion was as much mechan­i­cal as elec­tron­ic, using a com­pli­cat­ed series of gears and cylin­ders to repli­cate the musi­cal range of a piano. (See the oper­a­tion explained in the video at the top.) “Raised bumps on cylin­ders helped cre­ate musi­cal con­tour notes,” writes Pop­u­lar Mechan­ics, “not unlike a music box, with the size of the cylin­der deter­min­ing the pitch.”

Telharmonium 3

The huge, very loud Tel­har­mo­ni­um Mark III end­ed up in the base­ment of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera House for a time as Cahill worked on his scheme for pump­ing music through the tele­phone lines. But this plan did not come off smooth­ly. “The prob­lem was,” Pop­u­lar Mechan­ics points out,” all cables leak off radio waves. Send­ing a gigan­tic, ampli­fied sig­nal on turn-of-the-20th-cen­tu­ry phone lines was bound to cause trou­ble.” The Tel­har­mo­ni­um cre­at­ed inter­fer­ence on oth­er phone lines and even inter­rupt­ed Naval radio trans­mis­sions. “Rumor has it,” the Dou­glas Ander­son School of the Arts writes, “that a New York busi­ness­man, infu­ri­at­ed by the con­stant net­work inter­fer­ence, broke into the build­ing where the Tel­har­mo­ni­um was housed and destroyed it, throw­ing pieces of the machin­ery into the Hud­son riv­er below.”

The sto­ry seems unlike­ly, but it serves as a sym­bol for the instru­men­t’s col­lapse. Cahill’s com­pa­ny fold­ed in 1908, though the final Tel­har­mo­ni­um sup­pos­ed­ly remained oper­a­tional until 1916. No record­ings of the instru­ment have sur­vived, and Thad­deus Cahill’s broth­er Arthur even­tu­al­ly sold the last pro­to­type off for scrap in 1950 after fail­ing to find a buy­er. The entire ratio­nale for the instru­ment had been sup­plant­ed by radio broad­cast­ing. The Tel­har­mo­ni­um may have failed to catch on, but it still had a sig­nif­i­cant impact. Its unique design inspired anoth­er impor­tant elec­tron­ic instru­ment, the Ham­mond organ. And its very exis­tence gave musi­cal futur­ists a vision. The Dou­glas Ander­son School writes:

Despite its final demise, the Tel­har­mo­ni­um trig­gered the birth of elec­tron­ic music—The Ital­ian Com­pos­er and intel­lec­tu­al Fer­ruc­cio Busoni inspired by the machine at the height of its pop­u­lar­i­ty was moved to write his “Sketch of a New Aes­thet­ic of Music” (1907) which in turn became the clar­i­on call and inspi­ra­tion for the new gen­er­a­tion of elec­tron­ic com­posers such as Edgard Varèse and Lui­gi Rus­so­lo.

The instru­ment also made quite an impres­sion on anoth­er Amer­i­can inven­tor, Mark Twain, who enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly demon­strat­ed it through the tele­phone dur­ing a New Year’s gath­er­ing at his home, after giv­ing a speech about his own not incon­sid­er­able sta­tus as an inno­va­tor and ear­ly adopter of new tech­nolo­gies. “Unfor­tu­nate­ly for Thad­deus Cahill,” writes William Weir at The Hart­ford Courant, “Twain’s sup­port was­n’t enough to make a suc­cess of the Tel­har­mo­ni­um.” Learn more about the instru­men­t’s his­to­ry from this book.

via WFMU

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sovi­et Inven­tor Léon Theremin Shows Off the Theremin, the Ear­ly Elec­tron­ic Instru­ment That Could Be Played With­out Being Touched (1954)

Meet Delia Der­byshire, the Dr. Who Com­pos­er Who Almost Turned The Bea­t­les’ “Yes­ter­day” Into Ear­ly Elec­tron­i­ca

Rick Wake­man Tells the Sto­ry of the Mel­lotron, the Odd­ball Pro­to-Syn­the­siz­er Pio­neered by the Bea­t­les

Thomas Dol­by Explains How a Syn­the­siz­er Works on a Jim Hen­son Kids Show (1989)

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

Brazil Gives Out Books That Double as Subway Tickets, Promoting Literacy & Mass Transit at Once

One of the things I miss about liv­ing in a city with a sub­way sys­tem is the myr­i­ad thought­ful design ele­ments that go into man­ag­ing a per­pet­u­al flow of tourists and com­muters. New York’s sub­way map presents us with an icon­ic tan­gle of inter­lock­ing trib­u­taries resem­bling dia­grams of a cir­cu­la­to­ry sys­tem. The NYC system’s inge­nious­ly sim­ple graph­ic pre­sen­ta­tion of let­tered and num­bered trains, encir­cled in their cor­re­spond­ing col­ors, can be read by most any­one with a rudi­men­ta­ry grasp on the Eng­lish alphabet—from a new lan­guage learn­er to a small child. The Wash­ing­ton, DC sub­way sys­tem, though a much more pro­sa­ic affair over­all, whisks rid­ers through impres­sive­ly cav­ernous, cat­a­comb-like sta­tions, with bru­tal­ist tile and con­crete hon­ey­combs that seem to go on for­ev­er. The squig­gly lines of its col­or-cod­ed map like­wise promise ease of use and leg­i­bil­i­ty.

Ticket-Books_LPM-1-957x644

And then there are the hours of read­ing time grant­ed by a sub­way com­mute, a leisure I’ve relin­quished now that I rely on car and bike. So you can imag­ine my envi­ous delight in learn­ing about Brazil’s Tick­et Books, which are exact­ly what they sound like—books that work as sub­way tick­ets, designed with the min­i­mal­ist care that major tran­sit sys­tems do so well. And what’s more, they’re free: “To cel­e­brate World Book Day last April 23rd,” writes “future-for­ward online resource” PSFK, “[Brazil­lian pub­lish­er] L&PM gave away 10,000 books for free at sub­way sta­tions across São Paulo. Each book came with ten free trips.” Rid­ers could then recharge them and use the books again or pass them on to oth­ers to encour­age more read­ing, an impor­tant pub­lic ser­vice giv­en that Brazil­ians only read two books per year on aver­age.

Ticket-Books_LPM-3-968x516

With sub­way map-inspired cov­ers designed by firm Agên­cia Africa, the books include The Great Gats­by, The Art of War, Ham­let, Mur­der Alley by Agatha Christie, Hun­dred Love Son­nets by Pablo Neru­da, and more (includ­ing com­ic col­lec­tions from Charles Schulz and Garfield’s Jim Davis). Watch an explain­er video at the top of the post and see some love­ly images of the book cov­ers above. The cam­paign won three tro­phies at the Cannes Lions Fes­ti­val in the cat­e­gories “Pro­mo,” “Out­door,” and “Design,” and has proved so pop­u­lar that pub­lish­er L&PM has expand­ed the project to oth­er Brazil­ian cities, giv­ing me yet more rea­son to vis­it Brazil. And if Tick­et Books makes its way to a sub­way-enabled city near me, I may con­sid­er mov­ing.

via PSFK

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Design­er Mas­si­mo Vignel­li Revis­its and Defends His Icon­ic 1972 New York City Sub­way Map

Com­muters Can Down­load Free eBooks of Russ­ian Clas­sics While Rid­ing the Moscow Metro

55 Cov­ers of Vin­tage Phi­los­o­phy, Psy­chol­o­gy & Sci­ence Books Come to Life in a Short Ani­ma­tion

Artist Ani­mates Famous Book Cov­ers in an Ele­gant, Under­stat­ed Way

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

An Artful, Animated Tribute to The Wire, Created by a Fan of the Critically-Acclaimed TV Series

From direc­tor, design­er, and ani­ma­tor Elliot Lim comes an ani­mat­ed trib­ute to his “favorite show of all time,” HBO’s The Wire – a sen­ti­ment that he shares with Pres. Oba­ma, count­less crit­ics, and many casu­al TV view­ers. As much as the episodes them­selves, fans fond­ly remem­ber The Wire’s open­ing cred­its, which func­tioned, Andrew Dig­nan once wrote, as short films that “dis­till each sea­son’s themes, goals, and motifs.” The open­ing cred­its are what get the ani­mat­ed treat­ment in Lim’s video. Whether his video dis­tills a par­tic­u­lar set of themes, goals and motifs, I’m not yet sure. I’ll need to watch it a few more times and report back soon.

For more on The Wire and the Art of the Cred­it Sequence watch this 2012 video essay.

Fol­low Open Cul­ture on Face­book and Twit­ter and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

via Devour

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pres­i­dent Oba­ma Chats with David Simon About Drugs, The Wire & Omar

The Wire as Great Vic­to­ri­an Nov­el

Charles Min­gus’ Instruc­tions For Toi­let Train­ing Your Cat, Read by The Wire’s Reg E. Cathey

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.