Every Front Page of The New York Times in Under a Minute: Watch the Evolution of “The Gray Lady” from 1852 to Present

Buck­ling under infor­ma­tion over­load?

The long view can be sooth­ing, as film­mak­er Josh Beg­ley proves in just under a minute, above. The data artist reduced 165 years worth of chrono­log­i­cal­ly ordered New York Times front pages—every sin­gle one since 1852—to a grid of inky rec­tan­gles flash­ing past at light­ning speed.

You won’t be able to make out the head­lines as the front page news whips past to the some­what omi­nous strains of com­pos­er Philip Glass’ ”Dead Things.”

Instead the impres­sion is of watch­ing something—or someone—steadily bear­ing wit­ness.

Obvi­ous­ly, any rep­utable new source does more than sim­ply note the unfold­ing of events. Its read­ers look to it as a source of analy­sis and cri­tique, in addi­tion to well-researched fac­tu­al infor­ma­tion.

The Gray Lady, as the Times has long been known, has recent­ly weath­ered an uptick in slings and arrows from both the left and the right, yet her longevi­ty is not eas­i­ly dis­missed.

Blog­ger Jason Kot­tke watched the video with an eye toward some of the paper’s most notable design changes. His find­ings also remind us of some of the his­toric events to appear on the Times’ front page—Lincoln’s assas­si­na­tion, Nixon’s res­ig­na­tion, and the elec­tion of our first Black pres­i­dent, which it described as a “nation­al catharsis—a repu­di­a­tion of a his­tor­i­cal­ly unpop­u­lar Repub­li­can pres­i­dent and his eco­nom­ic and for­eign poli­cies.”

How many of the over 50,000 front pages fea­tured above were deemed per­son­al­ly sig­nif­i­cant enough to squir­rel away in a trunk or an attic?

Have dig­i­tal archives decreed that this prac­tice will soon gasp its last, along with the print media that inspired it?

What will we use to wrap our fish and line our bird cages?

Read the New York Times 2012 (non-front page) cov­er­age of Apple’s rejec­tion of Josh Begley’s Drone+ app here.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“Titan­ic Sink­ing; No Lives Lost” and Oth­er Ter­ri­bly Inac­cu­rate News Reports from April 15, 1912

The New York Times Makes 17,000 Tasty Recipes Avail­able Online: Japan­ese, Ital­ian, Thai & Much More

The New York Times’ First Pro­file of Hitler: His Anti-Semi­tism Is Not as “Gen­uine or Vio­lent” as It Sounds (1922)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and the­ater mak­er in New York City.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is play­ing at The Brick in Brook­lyn through tomor­row night. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Theme Song Gets the Seinfeld Treatment

And, by gol­ly, it works…

via Wel­come to Twin Peaks

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ange­lo Badala­men­ti Reveals How He and David Lynch Com­posed the Twin Peaks‘ “Love Theme”

Hear the Music of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Played by the Exper­i­men­tal Band, Xiu Xiu: A Free Stream of Their New Album

Watch an Epic, 4‑Hour Video Essay on the Mak­ing & Mythol­o­gy of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks Tarot Cards Now Avail­able as 78-Card Deck

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Title Sequence, Recre­at­ed in an Adorable Paper Ani­ma­tion

Hear the Music of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Played by the Exper­i­men­tal Band, Xiu Xiu: A Free Stream of Their New Album

New Interactive Map Visualizes the Chilling History of Lynching in the U.S. (1835–1964)

Whether we like to admit it or not, the his­to­ry of the U.S. is in great degree a his­to­ry of geno­cide and racist ter­ror. As Rox­anne Dun­bar-Ortiz has demon­strat­ed in An Indige­nous Peo­ples’ His­to­ry of the Unit­ed States, the phrase “Man­i­fest Des­tiny”—which we gen­er­al­ly asso­ciate with the sec­ond half of the 19th century—accurately describes the nation’s ethos since well before its found­ing. The idea that the entire con­ti­nent belonged by right of “Prov­i­dence” to a high­ly spe­cif­ic group of Euro­pean set­tlers is what we often hear spo­ken of now of as “white nation­al­ism,” an ide­ol­o­gy that has been as vio­lent and bloody as cer­tain oth­er nation­alisms, and in many ways much more so.

“Some­how,” writes Dun­bar-Ortiz, “even ‘geno­cide’ seems an inad­e­quate descrip­tion for what hap­pened” to the Native Amer­i­can nations. Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. rec­og­nized this his­to­ry as insep­a­ra­ble from the strug­gles of African-Amer­i­cans and oth­er groups, writ­ing in 1963’s Why We Can’t Wait, “our nation was born in geno­cide when it embraced the doc­trine that the orig­i­nal Amer­i­can, the Indi­an, was an infe­ri­or race. Even before there were large num­bers of Negroes on our shores, the scar of racial hatred had already dis­fig­ured colo­nial soci­ety. From the six­teenth cen­tu­ry for­ward, blood flowed in bat­tles of racial suprema­cy.”

One strik­ing commonality—or rather continuity—in the his­to­ries Dun­bar-Ortiz and King tell is that a huge num­ber of vio­lent attacks on Native and Black peo­ple, slave and free, were car­ried out by ordi­nary set­tlers and cit­i­zens, unof­fi­cial­ly dep­u­tized by the state as irreg­u­lar enforcers of white suprema­cy. Espe­cial­ly in the cen­tu­ry after the Civ­il War, white nation­al­ism took the form of lynch­ings: bru­tal vig­i­lante hang­ings, burn­ings, and muti­la­tions meant to ter­ror­ize com­mu­ni­ties of col­or and enact the kind of fron­tier “jus­tice” pio­neered on the actu­al fron­tier. Most of the record­ed vic­tims were African-Amer­i­can, but “Native Amer­i­cans, as well as Mex­i­can, Chi­nese, and Ital­ian work­ers were bru­tal­ized and mur­dered” as well, writes Lau­ra Bliss at City­lab, and “although the rur­al South was by far the blood­i­est region nation­al­ly, no area was real­ly safe.”

Now, a new inter­ac­tive map—named Mon­roe Work Today after the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry his­to­ri­an (Mon­roe Nathan Work) who gath­ered much of the data—“aims to be the most com­pre­hen­sive cat­a­logue of proven lynch­ings that took place in the Unit­ed States from 1835 to 1964.” The site calls its impres­sive map “a rebirth of one piece” of Mon­roe Work’s lega­cy, expand­ed to include many more sources and the post WWII peri­od. “In the cen­tu­ry after the Civ­il War,” write the map’s cre­ators, “as many as 5000 peo­ple of col­or were executed—not by courts, but by mobs on the street who believed the cause of white suprema­cy.”

Lynch­ings became wide­spread in the ear­ly 1800s, “as a form of self-appoint­ed jus­tice in local com­mu­ni­ties… when towns­peo­ple made grave accu­sa­tions first, but nev­er both­ered to gath­er proof.” In the post­bel­lum U.S., such killings became more exclu­sive­ly racial­ized in “very real cru­sades to change the Unit­ed States to a place only for whites.” Local lead­ers “encour­aged peo­ple to car­ry that idea onto the streets.” As you can see in the screen­shots here from par­tic­u­lar­ly vio­lent peri­ods in his­to­ry, most, but by no means all of these extra­ju­di­cial killings took place in the South against African Amer­i­cans.

In oth­er areas of den­si­ty in the South­west, “Far West,” and “Left Coast” (as the project refers to these areas) the vic­tims tend­ed to be Latino/a, Chi­nese, or Native Amer­i­can. In New Orleans, a deep pool of blue marks the many Sicil­ian vic­tims of lynch­ing in the late 19th cen­tu­ry.

For a num­ber of rea­sons dis­cussed on the site, the map’s cre­ators cau­tion against using their tool “to decide that some places suf­fered ‘more racism’ than oth­ers.” Many oth­er forms of racist vio­lence, from intim­i­da­tion to rape, redlin­ing, crim­i­nal­iza­tion, and job dis­crim­i­na­tion have been wide­spread around the coun­try and are not shown on the map. In antic­i­pa­tion of accu­sa­tions of bias, Mon­roe Work Today encour­ages users to eval­u­ate the source for them­selves. (“You should always do this with any­thing you read online.”) A good place to start would be their exten­sive bib­li­og­ra­phy. As you scroll through the site, you’ll find oth­er ques­tions answered as well.

Writ­ing at The Smith­son­ian, Dan­ny Lewis calls the map “an impor­tant endeav­or to help mark these dark parts of Amer­i­can his­to­ry and make it more vis­i­ble and acces­si­ble for all.” But Mon­roe Work Today is more than a research tool. The site bears wit­ness to a con­tin­u­ing sto­ry. “The threat of vio­lence for Amer­i­cans of col­or is alive and real,” writes Bliss, “This is a good time to revis­it its his­to­ry.”

via The Smith­son­ian

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Atlantic Slave Trade Visu­al­ized in Two Min­utes: 10 Mil­lion Lives, 20,000 Voy­ages, Over 315 Years

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

75 Years of CIA Maps Now Declas­si­fied & Made Avail­able Online

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

How Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner Illuminates the Central Problem of Modernity

Of all the soci­etal debates now going on in the West, many have to do with iden­ti­ty: who belongs in which group? Which groups belong in which places? And what if who we are changes accord­ing to con­text? In its own deep con­cern with iden­ti­ty, Rid­ley Scot­t’s Blade Run­ner, one of the most endur­ing cin­e­mat­ic visions of the 20th cen­tu­ry, has come to look even more pre­scient than it already did. The video essay­ist Evan Puschak, bet­ter known as Nerd­writer, finds out what the film under­stands about the prob­lems of social life in its future — our present — in a chap­ter of his “Under­stand­ing Art” series called “Blade Run­ner: The Oth­er Side of Moder­ni­ty.”

Blade Run­ner tells the sto­ry of Rick Deckard, a retired police detec­tive called back to work to hunt down a group of slave androids, known as “repli­cants,” who have escaped their con­fine­ment in an off-world min­ing camp and arrived on Earth. “In that process,” says Puschak, “we are con­front­ed with an avalanche of big ideas: what it means to be human, how our mem­o­ries cre­ate who we are, themes of love, exploita­tion, post-colo­nial­ism, social hier­ar­chy, and social decay.”

It all takes place in an imag­ined Los Ange­les of 2019, a rainy, dark­ly sub­lime urban realm whose “upper world is crisp, clean, and pre­dom­i­nant­ly Cau­casian,” and whose “street-lev­el world is dirty, chaot­ic, and mul­ti­cul­tur­al, par­al­lel­ing the ‘white flight’ of the mid-20th cen­tu­ry.”

The vision of moder­ni­ty at work in Blade Run­ner “finds its expres­sion, nec­es­sar­i­ly, in moments between devel­op­ments of the plot,” in its glimpses, delib­er­ate­ly offered by Scott and his col­lab­o­ra­tors, into the built and social envi­ron­ment at the mar­gins of the action. The over­all effect is “to pro­duce a world the keynote of which is malaise.” And though enthu­si­asts have writ­ten a great deal about the film’s explo­ration of human­i­ty itself — argu­ments still erupt, after all, over the issue of whether Deckard is a repli­cant him­self, even after Scott him­self has tried to set­tle it — “the cen­tral prob­lem of moder­ni­ty isn’t human­i­ty; it’s iden­ti­ty.”

In Puschak’s view, Blade Run­ner diag­noses the con­di­tion that “all the free­dom of mod­ern soci­ety, all its sec­u­lar­ism and egal­i­tar­i­an­ism and choice, con­ceals a dark­er side to the coin: the side on which human iden­ti­ty isn’t deter­mined by soci­ety, but by the indi­vid­ual, mak­ing its for­ma­tion, by def­i­n­i­tion, prob­lem­at­ic.” Indeed, we could see the shift from soci­etal­ly deter­mined iden­ti­ty to indi­vid­u­al­ly deter­mined iden­ti­ty — framed pos­i­tive­ly, the long march toward free­dom — as one of the main threads of the past few cen­turies of human his­to­ry, here rep­re­sent­ed by Deckard’s strug­gle with “the grad­ual break­down of the only iden­ti­ty he’s ever had.”

The essay high­lights one espe­cial­ly poignant but lit­tle-acknowl­edged scene where Deckard, hav­ing just slain one of his assigned tar­gets, instinc­tive­ly goes to buy a drink, but “what he real­ly needs is some kind of con­nec­tion, some place where the rules of inter­ac­tion are still sol­id and know­able.” Ulti­mate­ly, even after Deckard has dis­patched all of the rogue repli­cants, no “sat­is­fac­to­ry answer to the puz­zle of moder­ni­ty” emerges, but “Blade Run­ner does­n’t seek to give answers.” Instead, it seems to have known what ques­tions we would soon ask our­selves about “the con­se­quences of a soci­ety that, for all its mem­bers, is as lim­it­less as the vast archi­tec­ture of a city, yet as indif­fer­ent as the rain.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Tears In the Rain: A Blade Run­ner Short Film–A New, Unof­fi­cial Pre­quel to the Rid­ley Scott Film

What Hap­pens When Blade Run­ner & A Scan­ner Dark­ly Get Remade with an Arti­fi­cial Neur­al Net­work

Watch an Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Rid­ley Scott’s Blade Run­ner Made of 12,597 Water­col­or Paint­ings

Blade Run­ner Gets Re-Cre­at­ed, Shot for Shot, Using Only Microsoft Paint

Blade Run­ner is a Waste of Time: Siskel & Ebert in 1982

Philip K. Dick Pre­views Blade Run­ner: “The Impact of the Film is Going to be Over­whelm­ing” (1981)

The City in Cin­e­ma Mini-Doc­u­men­taries Reveal the Los Ange­les of Blade Run­ner, Her, Dri­ve, Repo Man, and More

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.

What Did the Voice of Neanderthals, Our Distant Cousins, Sound Like?: Scientists Demonstrate Their “High Pitch” Theory

Schol­ars have made informed, edu­cat­ed guess­es at what Shake­speare sound­ed like in the orig­i­nal pro­nun­ci­a­tion. The same applies to what Old Norse sound­ed like from the 9th through the 13th cen­turies. And even to Beowulf read in Old Eng­lishHome­r’s Odyssey read in the orig­i­nal Ancient Greek, and The Epic of Gil­gamesh read in Akka­di­an.

But could we push back much fur­ther in time? How about 40,000 years into deep his­to­ry when our close cousins, the Nean­derthals, pop­u­lat­ed the plan­et?

Above, you can watch a seg­ment of a BBC doc­u­men­tary, Nean­derthal: The Rebirth, where a team of sci­en­tists “exam­ine the first full skele­ton of a nean­derthal ever to be dis­cov­ered and uncov­er insights into the most like­ly sound our prim­i­tive cousins would have made.” Anatomists, bio­met­ric spe­cial­ists, pale­oan­thro­pol­o­gists, and vocal experts–they all worked togeth­er to ana­lyze the Nean­derthal’s vocal appa­ra­tus and came to this con­clu­sion: Homo nean­derthalen­sis like­ly had a sur­pris­ing­ly high-pitched voice (the orig­i­nal High Pitch). It’s on dis­play above.

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 Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Hear What Shake­speare Sound­ed Like in the Orig­i­nal Pro­nun­ci­a­tion

Learn What Old Norse Sound­ed Like, with UC Berkeley’s “Cow­boy Pro­fes­sor, Dr. Jack­son Craw­ford

Hear What Homer’s Odyssey Sound­ed Like When Sung in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

Hear Beowulf Read In the Orig­i­nal Old Eng­lish: How Many Words Do You Rec­og­nize?

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

An Animated Introduction to Arthur Schopenhauer and How We Can Achieve Happiness Through Art & Philosophy

For many years, as we wrote in a recent post, Friedrich Niet­zsche has been mis­un­der­stood as a philo­soph­i­cal nihilist and even a pro­to-Nazi. This is unfor­tu­nate, giv­en all Niet­zsche has to say about liv­ing coura­geous­ly in the face of nihilism and pro­to-Nazism, both of which he feared and hat­ed. But if we’re look­ing for a philoso­pher who espoused few, if any, pos­i­tive val­ues, who saw the entire world as emp­ty and malev­o­lent, and who had lit­tle sym­pa­thy for his fel­low man, we could instead turn to the Ger­man thinker whom Niet­zsche called his “teacher,” Arthur Schopen­hauer.

Schopen­hauer adopt­ed Bud­dhism ear­ly, years before D.T. Suzu­ki arrived in Europe and the U.S. and pop­u­lar­ized East­ern reli­gion and phi­los­o­phy. Per­haps Schopenhauer’s ver­sion of Bud­dhism didn’t quite catch on the same way because in his inter­pre­ta­tion, it resem­bles a dark, pes­simistic inver­sion of Rene Descartes’ propo­si­tions two cen­turies ear­li­er. “In my 17th year,” wrote Schopen­hauer (1788–1860), “I was gripped by the mis­ery of life, as the Bud­dha had been in his youth when he saw sick­ness, old age, pain and death.” So far, text­book intro to Bud­dhism.

But Bud­dhism has lit­tle to say about how the world came into exis­tence. Schopen­hauer goes on to write, “The truth was that this world could not have been the work of an all lov­ing being, but rather that of a dev­il, who had brought crea­tures into exis­tence in order to delight in their suf­fer­ings.” Schopen­hauer fits into the rare com­pa­ny of philo­soph­i­cal Anti­na­tal­ists, those who believe it would be bet­ter for us not to have been born at all. How is it then that Alain de Bot­ton can claim, as he does in his School of Life intro to Schopen­hauer above, that “like the Bud­dha… he deserves dis­ci­ples, schools, art­works, and monas­ter­ies to put his ideas into prac­tice.” What would that even look like?

Schopenhauer’s pes­simism was thor­ough­go­ing, and arrived ful­ly devel­oped in his 1818 mas­ter­piece, The World as Will and Rep­re­sen­ta­tion, pub­lished when he was thir­ty. The Schopen­hauer we tend to know, if we know him at all, is a scowl­ing old man with an incon­gru­ous­ly com­ic ring of white hair sur­round­ing his bald head like a fluffy winged  halo. But until his death at age 72, he stuck to the sys­tem­at­ic think­ing of his youth; “he pub­lished a great deal,” says Bryan Magee above in a dis­cus­sion with philoso­pher Fred­er­ick Cople­ston,” but all of it was to extend, or elab­o­rate, or enrich the philo­soph­i­cal sys­tem he had devel­oped in his twen­ties and from which he nev­er depart­ed.”

In those many lat­er pub­li­ca­tions, includ­ing two works on ethics and a revised edi­tion of Will and Rep­re­sen­ta­tion over twice the orig­i­nal length, Schopen­hauer the­o­rized the world as essen­tial­ly irra­tional and the crea­tures in it as gov­erned by the “will-to-life,” which, says de Bot­ton, “makes us thrust our­selves for­ward, cling to exis­tence, and look always to our own advan­tage.” Expressed main­ly through sex, the will-to-life dri­ves us to fall in love again and again, a phe­nom­e­non Schopen­hauer respect­ed, “as one would a tiger or a hur­ri­cane.” But Schopen­hauer resent­ed love, and saw it only as a neces­si­ty for the preser­va­tion of the species.

Aside from serv­ing this essen­tial func­tion, the will-to-life expressed through love only drove us to unhap­pi­ness. Schopen­hauer tends to be much less quotable than his most famous admir­er, Niet­zsche, but in one quote that sums up his idea of love, he wrote, “direct­ly after cop­u­la­tion the devil’s laugh­ter is heard.” It is per­haps need­less to point out that he had a very low view of the busi­ness of pro­cre­ation, not only because he opposed birth, but also because he opposed the con­di­tions that give rise to it. Rather than ele­vat­ing us above the run of oth­er sex­u­al­ly pro­cre­at­ing ani­mals, our con­scious­ness only serves to make us aware of our mis­ery.

“At every stop, in great things and small,” Schopen­hauer wrote, “we are bound to expe­ri­ence that the world and life are cer­tain­ly not arranged for the pur­pose of being hap­py. That’s why the faces of almost all elder­ly peo­ple are deeply etched with such dis­ap­point­ment.” Nonethe­less, we can “rise above the demands of the will-to-life,” he believed, in the man­ner of celi­bate monks and nuns. As Bud­dhist monas­tics have for 2,600 years, and more recent­ly a few scowl­ing Ger­man philoso­phers, we can renounce the plea­sures and the suf­fer­ings of every­day human life.

The oth­er way in which Schopen­hauer rec­om­mend­ed that we face the grim­ness of human life is through a form of art ther­a­py, spend­ing “as long as we can with art and phi­los­o­phy, whose task is to hold up a mir­ror to the fren­zied efforts and unhap­py tur­moil cre­at­ed in us by the will-to-life.” Where Schopenhauer’s first pro­pos­al for deal­ing with life’s suf­fer­ing close­ly resem­bles that of Ther­ava­da Bud­dhism, his sec­ond is a Mahayana for a Ger­man Roman­tic, who finds com­pas­sion for oth­er suf­fer­ing indi­vid­u­als only through the medi­um of art, lit­er­a­ture, and phi­los­o­phy.

In the full embrace of pes­simism, Schopen­hauer may sound to us a lit­tle like anoth­er Ger­man artist, Wern­er Her­zog, who also stares into the abyss of human mis­ery and finds val­ue only in its rela­tion to art: “To mar­ry means to do every­thing pos­si­ble to become an object of dis­gust to each oth­er,” Schopen­hauer writes, “Every life his­to­ry is the his­to­ry of suf­fer­ing,” “Life has no intrin­sic worth, but is kept in motion mere­ly by desire and illu­sion.” Should you find such state­ments com­fort­ing because they sound true to your expe­ri­ence, then per­haps Schopen­hauer holds for you a key to under­stand­ing and accept­ing the tragedy of exis­tence. But maybe he was wrong in assum­ing every­one was as mis­er­able as him­self.

See de Bot­ton expand on Schopenhauer’s view of love in the video above from his A Guide to Hap­pi­ness series.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

How Did Niet­zsche Become the Most Mis­un­der­stood & Bas­tardized Philoso­pher?: A Video from Slate Explains

A Guide to Hap­pi­ness: Alain de Botton’s Doc­u­men­tary Shows How Niet­zsche, Socrates & 4 Oth­er Philoso­phers Can Change Your Life

See the Homes and Stud­ies of Wittgen­stein, Schopen­hauer, Niet­zsche & Oth­er Philoso­phers

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

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Steve Reich is Calling: A Minimalist Ringtone for the iPhone

What if min­i­mal­ist com­pos­er Steve Reich got his hands on the iPhone’s famil­iar Marim­ba ring­tone? That’s what the web­site Steve Reich is Call­ing imag­ines. Here’s how Jason Kot­tke describes the basic con­cept:

[Reich’s] 1967 piece Piano Phase fea­tured a pair of pianists repet­i­tive­ly per­form­ing the same piece at two slight­ly dif­fer­ent tem­pos, form­ing a con­tin­u­al­ly evolv­ing musi­cal round. Seth Kran­zler took this idea and made a Reich-like piece with two iPhones ring­ing at slight­ly dif­fer­ent tem­pos.

From what I can tell, there’s not actu­al­ly an offi­cial way to down­load the ring­tone and make it your own–though it does appear that there are, indeed, ways to con­vert Youtube videos into ring­tones. (Note: we haven’t test­ed these meth­ods, so pro­ceed cau­tious­ly.)

For any­one inter­est­ed in tak­ing a deep­er dive–a much deep­er dive–into Reich’s musi­cal world, please see this post in our archive: Hear Steve Reich’s Min­i­mal­ist Com­po­si­tions in a 28-Hour Playlist: A Jour­ney Through His Influ­en­tial Record­ings.

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!

Look­ing for free, pro­fes­­sion­al­­ly-read audio books from Audible.com? Here’s a great, no-strings-attached deal. If you start a 30 day free tri­al with Audible.com, you can down­load two free audio books of your choice. Get more details on the offer here.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Music of Avant-Garde Com­pos­er John Cage Now Avail­able in a Free Online Archive

Björk Presents Ground­break­ing Exper­i­men­tal Musi­cians on the BBC’s Mod­ern Min­i­mal­ists (1997)

The Avant-Garde Project: An Archive of Music by 200 Cut­ting-Edge Com­posers, Includ­ing Stravin­sky, Schoen­berg, Cage & More

 

Rock Band: Hear The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” Played with Electromechanical Instruments That Make Music with Rocks

From Neil Men­doza comes “Rock Band,” an amal­ga­ma­tion of “electro­mechan­i­cal instru­ments that make music with rocks by throw­ing them through the air, slap­ping them and mak­ing them vibrate.” Above, hear the band play one of my favorite Bea­t­les songs, “Here Comes the Sun.” There’s no Paul, John, George and Ringo here. Instead, you’ve got the fol­low­ing band mem­bers:

Pinger — fires small rocks at alu­mini­um keys using sole­noids.
Spin­ner — launch­es mag­net­ic rocks, Hematite, at pieces of mar­ble. Rocks are launched by spin­ning mag­nets using Applied Motion applied-motion.com step­per motors.
Slap­per — slaps rocks with fake leather.
Buzzer — vibrates the plunger of a sole­noid against a piece of mar­ble.

Accord­ing to Neil, “the whole project is con­trolled by a com­put­er run­ning a MIDI play­er writ­ten in open­Frame­works talk­ing to a Teen­sy. The machines were designed using Autodesk Fusion 360 and Autodesk Inven­tor.” You can find instruc­tions on how to build your own Pinger here.

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 The Kids Should See This

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