Doc Martens Boots Adorned with Hieronymus Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights”

As in cui­sine, where peas­ant food can become trendy and expen­sive overnight, so it is in fash­ion: how else to explain the way a hum­ble work­ing-class boot went from the fac­to­ry floor to styl­is­tic state­ment.

The orig­i­nal 1960’s Dr. Martens boot, the one with the cush­ioned sole, fan­cy tread, and yel­low stitch­ing, was designed to be afford­able. That’s why the punks loved it, that’s why the ska/Two Tone guys and gals loved it, and that’s why rich rock­ers like Pete Town­shend showed his sol­i­dar­i­ty by wear­ing them along with his boil­er suit.

But that was then, and this is…the Tate Gallery of London’s spe­cial­ly com­mis­sioned series of arty Docs. The “1460” boot above shows details from Hierony­mus Bosch’s “Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights” (the hell­ish third pan­el), which you have to admit is pret­ty cool. For the lover not the fight­er among us, you can also go for the more debauched sec­ond pan­el from “Gar­den” print­ed on a “1461” style shoe.

If Bosch isn’t your style, the Tate Gallery also com­mis­sioned ones fea­tur­ing Gian­ni­co­la Di Pao­loWilliam Hog­a­rth, and Bia­gio Di Anto­nio. Trou­ble is, all of these have already sold out, though you can still get ver­sions sport­ing art by William Blake and JMW Turn­er. I guess you might want to book­mark Dr. Martens Artist Series’ page. We’re here to expand your cul­tur­al knowl­edge on Open Cul­ture, not to pro­vide dai­ly deals!

So, yes, these lim­it­ed edi­tion boots are just slight­ly more than the orig­i­nal “smooth” style and not exact­ly cheap. But, on the oth­er hand, this new phase of the com­pa­ny is a cel­e­bra­tion of skirt­ing com­plete obso­les­cence. While mar­keters love to say these brands “nev­er go out of style,” they in fact did. Accord­ing to their own web­site, Dr. Martens had such declin­ing sales at the turn of the mil­len­ni­um that all but one fac­to­ry closed. It was by com­mis­sion­ing artists to rebrand the boot in sim­i­lar ways as the Tate Gallery that the com­pa­ny was able to turn things around and, best of all, keep man­u­fac­tur­ing the boots in Britain.

Whether you should wear your high cul­ture so low to the ground is for you to fig­ure out once you get your hands on a pair. Again, there are still ver­sions by William Blake and JMW Turn­er in steady sup­ply.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of Hierony­mus Bosch’s Bewil­der­ing Mas­ter­piece The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights

Hierony­mus Bosch Fig­urines: Col­lect Sur­re­al Char­ac­ters from Bosch’s Paint­ings & Put Them on Your Book­shelf
Hierony­mus Bosch’s Medieval Paint­ing, “The Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights,” Comes to Life in a Gigan­tic, Mod­ern Ani­ma­tion

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

An Archive of 8,000 Benjamin Franklin Papers Now Digitized & Put Online

Let me quick­ly pass along some good news from the Library of Con­gress: “The papers of Amer­i­can sci­en­tist, states­man and diplo­mat Ben­jamin Franklin have been dig­i­tized and are now avail­able online for the first time.… The Franklin papers con­sist of approx­i­mate­ly 8,000 items most­ly dat­ing from the 1770s and 1780s. These include the peti­tion that the First Con­ti­nen­tal Con­gress sent to Franklin, then a colo­nial diplo­mat in Lon­don, to deliv­er to King George III; let­ter­books Franklin kept as he nego­ti­at­ed the Treaty of Paris that end­ed the Rev­o­lu­tion­ary War; drafts of the treaty; notes doc­u­ment­ing his sci­en­tif­ic obser­va­tions, and cor­re­spon­dence with fel­low sci­en­tists.” Find the dig­i­tized col­lec­tion of papers 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!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hamil­ton Mania Inspires the Library of Con­gress to Put 12,000 Alexan­der Hamil­ton Doc­u­ments Online

The Instru­ment Ben­jamin Franklin Invent­ed, the Glass Armon­i­ca, Plays Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Sug­ar Plum Fairy”

Ben Franklin’s List of 200 Syn­onyms for “Drunk”: “Moon-Ey’d,” “Ham­mer­ish,” “Stew’d” & More (1737)

Braille Neue: A New Version of Braille That Can Be Simultaneously Read by the Sighted and the Blind

Pho­to via Kosuke Taka­hashi

To those of us who’ve nev­er had rea­son to learn it, the Braille alpha­bet can have an appeal­ing­ly retro-futur­is­tic look, not least because Braille sig­nage in Amer­i­ca seems most often installed in pre-2000s pub­lic build­ings. But it must smack of the past to many of the visu­al­ly impaired as well, who these days have a host of ever high­er-tech read­ing devices avail­able to them (thanks to which, of course, they can read sites like this one). And though pub­lic sup­port for pro­duc­ing mate­ri­als in Braille exists, the edu­ca­tion­al pro­grams need­ed to spread Braille lit­er­a­cy in the first place have few­er cham­pi­ons. Braille itself, per­haps, needs an upgrade for the 21st cen­tu­ry.

Kosuke Taka­hashi may be just the graph­ic design­er to pro­vide that upgrade. He’s come up with Braille Neue, “a uni­ver­sal type­face that com­bines braille with exist­ing char­ac­ters. This type­face com­mu­ni­cates to both the sight­ed and blind peo­ple in the same space.” He has, in oth­er words, designed a read­able alpha­bet that allows for the over­lay­ing of Eng­lish with the cor­re­spond­ing raised Braille dots, keep­ing both leg­i­ble at a glance — or at a touch, as the case may be. Oth­er design­ers have tried their hand at the same project, but unlike Taka­hashi, none of their alpha­bets sup­port pho­net­ic Japan­ese char­ac­ters as well. “Our aim is to use this uni­ver­sal type­set for [the] Tokyo Olympics and Par­a­lympics 2020 to cre­ate a tru­ly uni­ver­sal space where any­one can access infor­ma­tion,” says Taka­hashi’s Braille Neue page.

Pho­to via Kosuke Taka­hashi

Based on the exist­ing Hel­veti­ca Neue font, Braille Neue — whose design­er, accord­ing to My Mod­ern Met, “is still exper­i­ment­ing with cost-effec­tive print­ing and is refin­ing the font pri­or to final release” — has the poten­tial to spread not just aware­ness but lit­er­a­cy of Braille, giv­en that it essen­tial­ly shows sight­ed non-Braille read­ers a key every time they read it. As any non-Japan­ese per­son who has lived in Taka­hashi’s native land knows, even if you start with no idea of how to read a char­ac­ter in an unknown writ­ing sys­tem, you’ll start to get a sense of it almost auto­mat­i­cal­ly if you see it often enough in con­text with your own. They’ll also know that if any coun­try can imple­ment retro­fu­tur­is­tic design in a way that fas­ci­nates the world, it’s Japan.

via Colos­sal/My Mod­ern Met

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Helen Keller Had Impec­ca­ble Hand­writ­ing: See a Col­lec­tion of Her Child­hood Let­ters

The Pra­do Muse­um Cre­ates the First Art Exhi­bi­tion for the Visu­al­ly Impaired, Using 3D Print­ing

Font Based on Sig­mund Freud’s Hand­writ­ing Com­ing Cour­tesy of Suc­cess­ful Kick­starter Cam­paign

How to Write Like an Archi­tect: Short Primers on Writ­ing with the Neat, Clean Lines of a Design­er

Jorge Luis Borges, After Going Blind, Draws a Self-Por­trait

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Cinematic Journey Through Paris, As Seen Through the Lens of Legendary Filmmaker Éric Rohmer: Watch Rohmer in Paris


Note: The film starts around the 30 sec­ond mark.

Site of so many his­toric screen­ings, cra­dle of so many inno­v­a­tive auteurs, set­ting of so many mem­o­rable scenes: does any city have a more cen­tral place in the cinephile’s con­scious­ness than Paris? Film­mak­er-pro­fes­sor Richard Mis­ek calls it “the city where cinephil­ia itself began.” It cer­tain­ly has a place in his own cinephilic jour­ney, begin­ning with a chance encounter, 24 years ago in the dis­trict of Mont­martre, with one of the lumi­nar­ies of French New Wave film: Éric Rohmer, who was then in the mid­dle of shoot­ing his pic­ture Ren­dezvous in Paris. “I only real­ized this four­teen years lat­er, when I saw the film late one night on tele­vi­sion,” Mis­ek says. “It was the first Rohmer film I’d ever seen — and I was in it.”

He tells this sto­ry ear­ly in Rohmer in Paris, his hour-long video essay on all the ways the auteur used the city in the course of his pro­lif­ic, more than fifty-year-long film­mak­ing career. Mis­ek describes Rohmer’s char­ac­ters, “always glanc­ing at each oth­er: on trains, on streets, in parks, in the two-way shop win­dows of cafes where they can see and be seen,” as flâneurs, those obser­vant strollers through the city whose type has its ori­gins in the Paris of the 19th cen­tu­ry. “But their walks are restrict­ed to lunch hours and evenings out. They form detours from less leisure­ly tra­jec­to­ries: the lines of a dai­ly com­mute.” With ever-increas­ing rig­or, the direc­tor “traces every step of his char­ac­ters’ jour­neys through the city with topo­graph­ic pre­ci­sion. His char­ac­ters fol­low actu­al paths through Paris, paths that can be drawn as lines on the city’s map.”

Though Rohmer did have his dif­fer­ences, aes­thet­i­cal­ly as well as polit­i­cal­ly, with his col­leagues in the French New Wave, “in one way, at least, he always stayed faith­ful to the spir­it of the nou­velle vague: through­out his life, Rohmer did­n’t just film Paris, he doc­u­ment­ed it.” Cut­ting up and delib­er­ate­ly re-arrang­ing thou­sands of pieces of image and sound in Rohmer’s dozens of shorts and fea­tures, plac­ing side-by-side shots of the same Parisian spaces years and even decades apart, Mis­ek shows us how Rohmer cin­e­mat­i­cal­ly illus­trates “one of the basic truths about urban exis­tence: in cities, humans’ lives inter­sect every day. But most of these inter­sec­tions are tran­si­to­ry, crossed paths between two peo­ple fol­low­ing dif­fer­ent tra­jec­to­ries.”

Rohmer did­n’t always film in Paris. As his career went on, he told more sto­ries that depart from the city, but then, those sto­ries also usu­al­ly return to it: ulti­mate­ly, almost all of his char­ac­ters find that “Paris can­not be tran­scend­ed.” Watch just one of Rohmer’s films, and you’ll see how lit­tle inter­est he has in roman­ti­ciz­ing the City of Light, yet the words of one char­ac­ter in Full Moon in Paris might also be his own: “The air is foul, but I can breathe,” he declares. “I need to be at the cen­ter, in the cen­ter of a coun­try, in a city cen­ter that’s almost the cen­ter of the world.”

Just as Rohmer demon­strates the inex­haustibil­i­ty of Paris with his fil­mog­ra­phy, Mis­ek demon­strates the inex­haustibil­i­ty of that fil­mog­ra­phy with Rohmer in Paris, which he has recent­ly released into the pub­lic domain and made free to watch online. It pro­vides real insight into the work of Éric Rohmer, the city in which he became a cinephile and then a film­mak­er, and how the two repeat­ed­ly inter­sect with one anoth­er over the sec­ond half of the 20th cen­tu­ry and the begin­ning of the 21st. But it also implies an answer, in the affir­ma­tive, to anoth­er, more gen­er­al propo­si­tion that Mis­ek rais­es ear­ly in the essay: “I can’t help but won­der if cinephil­ia is a jour­ney with­out end.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Tui­leries: The Coen Broth­ers’ Short Film About Steve Buscemi’s Very Bad Day in the Paris Metro

The City in Cin­e­ma Mini-Doc­u­men­taries Reveal the Los Ange­les of Blade Run­nerHerDri­veRepo Man, and More

Port­land, the City in Cin­e­ma: See the City of Ros­es as it Appears in 20 Dif­fer­ent Films

Van­cou­ver Nev­er Plays Itself

How the French New Wave Changed Cin­e­ma: A Video Intro­duc­tion to the Films of Godard, Truf­faut & Their Fel­low Rule-Break­ers

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Igor Stravinsky Remembers the “Riotous” Premiere of His Rite of Spring in 1913: “They Were Very Shocked. They Were Naive and Stupid People.”

It can be a lit­tle hard to take the word “riot” seri­ous­ly when applied to a con­tentious bal­let per­for­mance, giv­en how reg­u­lar­ly we now see police with machine guns, shields, and tanks rolling down city streets to over­pow­er protest­ing cit­i­zens. But that is the word that has come down to us for the fra­cas that greet­ed the debut of Serge Diaghilev and Igor Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. The idea of a riot seems all the more incon­gru­ous, and fun­ny, when con­sid­ered in the light of Jean Cocteau’s descrip­tion of the crowd:

The smart audi­ence in tails and tulle, dia­monds and ospreys, was inter­spersed with the suits and ban­deaux of the aes­thet­ic crowd. The lat­ter would applaud nov­el­ty sim­ply to show their con­tempt for the peo­ple in the box­es… Innu­mer­able shades of snob­bery, super-snob­bery and invert­ed snob­bery were rep­re­sent­ed.

This Parisian smart set came togeth­er on that evening of May 29th expect­ing “some­thing poten­tial­ly out­ra­geous,” writes The Tele­graph’s clas­si­cal crit­ic Ivan Hewett. Diaghilev’s Bal­let Russ­es had pre­vi­ous­ly “entranced and shocked Paris.”

Stravin­sky was acquir­ing a rep­u­ta­tion as a musi­cal provo­ca­teur, hav­ing built his score for 1910’s The Fire­bird around the dis­so­nant “Devil’s Inter­val.” Nonethe­less, as the Rock­et­boom video below, “The Riot of Spring,” explains, audi­ences packed into the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées had no prepa­ra­tion for what they would see, and hear, when the cur­tain arose.

And what was that? A “high, almost stran­gled bas­soon melody,” Hewett writes, “soon draped with flut­ter­ing, twit­ter­ing wood­wind sounds” set to “pul­sat­ing rhythms.” Chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Vaslav Nijinsky’s dancers “seemed pulled down to earth. Their strange, jerky move­ments and awk­ward pos­es defied every canon of grace­ful­ness.” The audi­ence react­ed imme­di­ate­ly, shout­ing and attack­ing one anoth­er: “canes were bran­dished like men­ac­ing imple­ments of com­bat all over the the­ater.” Stravin­sky him­self remem­bers the the­ater­go­ers reac­tions with dis­dain in a short inter­view excerpt at the top.

“The storm broke,” he says, once the cur­tain opened on a group of “knock-kneed… Loli­tas jump­ing up and down.” The audi­ence “came for Scheherazade or Cleopa­tra, and they saw Le Sacre du Print­emps. They were very shocked. They were very naïve and stu­pid peo­ple.” Did Stravin­sky real­ly not antic­i­pate the degree of unrest his weird, dis­so­nant bal­let might pro­voke? It seems not. He hoped it would be a big­ger hit than his wide­ly-praised Petrush­ka of three years ear­li­er. “From all indi­ca­tions,” he had writ­ten to set design­er Nicholas Roerich, “I can see that this piece is bound to ‘emerge’ in a way that rarely hap­pens.” This proved true, but not at all in the way he meant it.

For his part, writes Hewett, Diaghilev “was hop­ing for some­thing more than an emer­gence. He want­ed a scan­dal.” James Wol­cott, in his account of the evening, Wild in the Seats, argues that the Russ­ian impre­sario had “a genius for pub­lic­i­ty that wouldn’t be matched until the advent of Andy Warhol and the pop cult of celebri­ty.” He knew he need­ed to rat­tle the “jad­ed ele­gants,” who “weren’t going to be stim­u­lat­ed by the same melt­ing, yearn­ing pan­tomime in pointe shoes.” The Rite of Spring pre­miere remains the most infa­mous scan­dal in the his­to­ry of bal­let to this day.

But while the sophis­ti­cates bat­tled it out in the aisles, scream­ing over the orches­tra, pulling down each other’s top hats, it’s said, and chal­leng­ing each oth­er to duels, a few spec­ta­tors, Cocteau includ­ed, sat entranced by the per­for­mance. The work, he lat­er wrote, “is, and will remain, a mas­ter­piece: a sym­pho­ny impreg­nat­ed with wild pathos, with earth in the throes of birth, nois­es of farm and camp, lit­tle melodies that come to us out of the depths of the cen­turies, the pant­i­ng of cat­tle, pro­found con­vul­sions of nature, pre­his­toric geor­gics.”

See the open­ing move­ments per­formed above by the Jof­frey Bal­let in 1987, and imag­ine your­self in the midst of Paris’s high­est soci­ety con­vuls­ing in a riotous out­cry. What was so upset­ting? “Per­haps the riot was a sign of dis­qui­et,” Hewett spec­u­lates, “a feel­ing that that the world had lost its moor­ings, and that bar­barism was about to be let loose in the streets.” Accord­ing to eye­wit­ness­es, some dis­turbed spec­ta­tors even called in the police. You can learn much more about this fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry at the free Har­vard edX course, “Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring: Mod­ernism, Bal­let, and Riots.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, Visu­al­ized in a Com­put­er Ani­ma­tion

Stravinsky’s “Ille­gal” Arrange­ment of “The Star Span­gled Ban­ner” (1944)

Watch 82-Year-Old Igor Stravin­sky Con­duct The Fire­bird, the Bal­let Mas­ter­piece That First Made Him Famous (1965)

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

Chess Grandmaster Garry Kasparov Relives His Four Most Memorable Games

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Many con­sid­er Gar­ry Kas­parov one of the great­est chess play­ers of all time. And for good rea­son. In 1985, at the age of 22, Kas­parov defeat­ed the reign­ing cham­pi­on Ana­toly Kar­pov. From that moment, until his retire­ment in 2005, he dom­i­nat­ed. For the next 225 out of 228 months, he was the #1 ranked play­er in the game. Above, in a video cre­at­ed by The New York­er, Kas­parov “replays some of his most unfor­get­table games,” and “relives the hap­pi­est and the most painful moments of his career,” includ­ing:

  • Gar­ry Kas­parov vs. Ana­toly Kar­pov: World Cham­pi­onship Match 1985
  • Gar­ry Kas­parov vs. Ana­toly Kar­pov: World Cham­pi­onship Match 1987
  • Gar­ry Kas­parov vs. Viswanathan Anand: PCA-GP Cred­it Suisse Rapid Final Blitz Play­off 1996
  • Gar­ry Kas­parov vs. Deep Blue: I.B.M. Man vs. Machine 1997

In recent months, Kas­parov has also cre­at­ed an online course for Mas­ter­class, Gar­ry Kas­parov Teach­es Chess, which–in 29 video lessons–offers a deep­er explo­ration of his chess the­o­ry, tac­tics, and strat­e­gy.

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:

A Free 700-Page Chess Man­u­al Explains 1,000 Chess Tac­tics in Plain Eng­lish

Clay­ma­tion Film Recre­ates His­toric Chess Match Immor­tal­ized in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey

A Human Chess Match Gets Played in Leningrad, 1924

Man Ray Designs a Supreme­ly Ele­gant, Geo­met­ric Chess Set in 1920 (and It’s Now Re-Issued for the Rest of Us)

Play Chess Against the Ghost of Mar­cel Duchamp: A Free Online Chess Game

Watch Bill Gates Lose a Chess Match in 79 Sec­onds to the New World Chess Cham­pi­on Mag­nus Carlsen

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

The Science of Beer: A New Free Online Course Promises to Enhance Your Appreciation of the Timeless Beverage

The brew­ing of beer is as old as agri­cul­ture, which is to say as old as set­tled civ­i­liza­tion. The old­est recipe we know of dates to 1800 B.C. Over cen­turies, beer moved up and down the class lad­der depend­ing on its pri­ma­ry con­sumers. Medieval monks brewed many fine vari­eties and were renowned for their tech­nique. Beer descend­ed into pubs and row­dy beer halls, whet­ting the whis­tles not only of farm­ers, sol­diers, sailors, and pil­grims, but also of burghers and a bud­ding indus­tri­al work­force. Dur­ing the age of mod­ern empire, beer became, on both sides of the Atlantic, the bev­er­age of work­ing-class sports fans in bleach­ers and La-Z-Boys.

A craft beer Renais­sance at the end of last cen­tu­ry brought back a monk­ish mys­tique to this most ancient bev­er­age, turn­ing beer into wine, so to speak, with com­pa­ra­ble lev­els of con­nois­seur­ship. Beer bars became gal­leries of fine pol­ished brass, pun­gent, fruity aro­mas, dark and seri­ous wood appoint­ments. Craft beer is fun—with its quirky names and labels—it is also intim­i­dat­ing, in the breadth of com­pli­cat­ed con­coc­tions on offer. (Hip­sters and penu­ri­ous rev­el­ers revolt­ed, made a fetish of Pab­st Blue Rib­bon, Milwaukee’s Best, and ye olde malt liquor.)

“Has craft beer peaked?” won­ders The Wash­ing­ton Post’s Rachel Siegel. You can prob­a­bly guess from the ques­tion that most trends point to “yes.” But as long as there is wheat, bar­ley, and hops, we will have beer, no mat­ter who is drink­ing it and where. One last­ing effect of beer’s high­brow few decades remains: a pop­u­lar schol­ar­ly appre­ci­a­tion for its cul­ture and com­po­si­tion. You can study the typog­ra­phy of beer, for exam­ple, as Print mag­a­zine has done in recent years. A new online course applies the tools of empir­i­cal and soci­o­log­i­cal research to beer drink­ing.

“The Sci­ence of Beer,” taught by a cadre of stu­dent teach­ers from Wagenin­gen Uni­ver­si­ty in Hol­land, explores “how [beer is] made, the raw mate­ri­als used, its sup­ply chain, how it’s mar­ket­ed and the effect of beer con­sump­tion on your body.” (This last point—in a world turned against sug­ar, carbs, and gluten—being part­ly the rea­son for craft beer’s decline.) Should your voice qua­ver when you approach the upscale reclaimed wal­nut bar and sur­vey unfa­mil­iar lagers, ales, stouts, bocks, porters, and hefeweizens… should you hes­i­tate at Whole Foods when faced with a wall of bev­er­ages with names like incan­ta­tions, this free class may set you at ease.

Not only will you learn about the dif­fer­ent types of beer, but “after this course, tast­ing a beer will be an entire­ly new sen­sa­tion: you will enjoy it even more since you will bet­ter under­stand what’s inside your drink.” Enroll­ment for the 5‑week course began this past Mon­day and the class is cur­rent­ly open and free. (Make sure you select the “Audit” option for the free ver­sion of the course.) You should expect to devote 2 to 4 hours per week to “The Sci­ence of Beer.” Please, study respon­si­bly.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dis­cov­er the Old­est Beer Recipe in His­to­ry From Ancient Sume­ria, 1800 B.C.

The First Known Pho­to­graph of Peo­ple Shar­ing a Beer (1843)

The Art and Sci­ence of Beer

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

200+ Films by Indigenous Directors Now Free to View Online: A New Archive Launched by the National Film Board of Canada

The strug­gles of First Nations peo­ples in Cana­da have loomed large in the news, show­ing a far harsh­er side of a coun­try Amer­i­cans tend to car­i­ca­ture as a land of bland nice­ness, hock­ey fan­dom, and social­ized med­i­cine. Huge num­bers of miss­ing and mur­dered indige­nous women, high rates of sui­cide, a mul­ti­tude of health crises, and—as in the U.S.—the ongo­ing encroach­ment onto Indige­nous lands by tox­ic pipelines and oil­sands devel­op­ment…..

As with issues affect­ing oth­er belea­guered com­mu­ni­ties across the globe, suf­fer­ing from the con­tin­ued depre­da­tions of colo­nial­ism and cap­i­tal­ism, these prob­lems can seem so over­whelm­ing that we don’t know how to begin to under­stand them. As always, the arts offer a way in—through human­iz­ing por­traits and inti­mate rev­e­la­tions, through detailed and com­pas­sion­ate sto­ries, through cre­ativ­i­ty, humor, and beau­ty.

In March of this year, the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da launched an “exten­sive online library of over 200 films by Indige­nous direc­tors,” reports the CBC, “part of a three-year Indige­nous Action Plan to ‘rede­fine’ the NFB’s rela­tion­ship with Indige­nous peo­ples.” You can read the NFB’s plan here, a response to “the work and rec­om­men­da­tions of the Truth and Rec­on­cil­i­a­tion Com­mis­sion of Cana­da.”

Their free online film col­lec­tion is search­able by sub­ject, direc­tor, or Indige­nous peo­ple or nation, writes Native News Online, and “many of the films in this col­lec­tion are cur­rent­ly being screened in com­mu­ni­ties right across Cana­da as part of the #Aabizi­ing­washi (#WideAwake) Indige­nous cin­e­ma screen­ing series.”

Some of the high­lights of the col­lec­tion include Ala­nis Obomsawin’s The Peo­ple of the Kat­tawapiskak Riv­er (top), a 2012 doc­u­men­tary that Judith Schuyler, of the Toron­to-based Imag­i­ne­NA­TIVE film orga­ni­za­tion, describes as “high­light­ing the gov­ern­ment, the dia­mond mines and the sky­rock­et­ing freight costs as the con­tribut­ing fac­tors keep­ing the [Kat­tawapiskak] com­mu­ni­ty in impov­er­ished third world con­di­tions.” Below it, see Lumaa­ju­uq, a beau­ti­ful­ly-ani­mat­ed short 2010 film by Alethea Arnaquq-Bar­il that tells the Inu­it sto­ry of “The Blind Man and the Loon.”

Fur­ther up, see First Stories—Two Spir­it­ed, a 2007 film by Sharon A. Des­jar­lais that film­mak­er Bret­ten Han­nam describes as “a mes­sage of hope and heal­ing not only for two-spir­it peo­ple, but for all indige­nous peo­ple,” and, just above, Den­nis Allen’s CBQM, a doc­u­men­tary about a radio sta­tion in Fort McPher­son, North­west Ter­ri­to­ries, which ImagineNative’s Jason Ryle describes as “a ten­der, inti­mate por­trait of a north­ern com­mu­ni­ty.”

Native News Online and the CBC list sev­er­al oth­er rec­om­men­da­tions from the col­lec­tion, or you can sim­ply dive in and start watch­ing here. Also, check out this crash course on ris­ing Indige­nous film­mak­ers. And if at any point you feel inspired to don the garb of a First Nations peo­ple and hit the clubs or music fes­ti­vals, well, maybe heed the ultra-short pub­lic ser­vice announce­ment, “Naked Island—Hipster Head­dress,” below, and “Just Don’t Do It.”

via @sheerly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

265 Free Doc­u­men­taries Online 

1,150 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc. 

An Archive of 20,000 Movie Posters from Czecho­slo­va­kia (1930–1989)

Mar­tin Scors­ese Cre­ate a List of 38 Essen­tial Films About Amer­i­can Democ­ra­cy

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

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast
Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.