Eleven Rules for Writing from Eight Contemporary Playwrights 

Chances are most of us won’t be imme­di­ate­ly famil­iar with the eight most­ly British play­wrights reflect­ing on their process in the Nation­al The­atre’s video, above.

That’s a good thing.

It’s eas­i­er to choose which pieces of inspir­ing, occa­sion­al­ly con­flict­ing writ­ing advice to fol­low when the scale’s not weight­ed down by the thumb of celebri­ty.

(Though rest assured that there’s no short­age of peo­ple who do know their work, if the Nation­al The­ater is plac­ing them in the hot seat.)

It’s impos­si­ble to fol­low all of their sug­ges­tions on any giv­en project, so go with your gut.

Or try your hand at one that doesn’t come nat­u­ral­ly, espe­cial­ly if you’ve been feel­ing stuck.

These approach­es are equal­ly valid for those writ­ing fic­tion, and pos­si­bly even cer­tain types of poet­ry and song.

The Nation­al wins points for assem­bling a diverse group—there are four women and four men, three of whom are peo­ple of col­or.

With­in this crew, it’s the women who over­whelm­ing­ly bring up the notions of per­mis­sion and per­fec­tion, as in it’s okay to let your first draft be absolute­ly dread­ful.

Most of the males are prone to plot­ting things out in advance.

And no one seems entire­ly at home marooned against a seam­less white back­ground on a plain wood­en stool.

Jew­ish iden­ti­ty, school shoot­ings, immi­gra­tion, race, cli­mate change, and homo­pho­bia are just some of the top­ics they have con­sid­ered in their plays.

Some have worked in film and TV, adapt­ed the clas­sics, or writ­ten for young audi­ences.

They have won pres­ti­gious awards, seen their plays staged ‘round the globe, and had suc­cess with oth­er artis­tic pur­suits, includ­ing poet­ry, per­for­mance, and dance.

Clear­ly, you’ll find some great advice below, though it’s not a one-size-fits-all propo­si­tion. Let us know in the com­ments which rules you per­son­al­ly con­sid­er worth fol­low­ing.

Eleven Rules for Writ­ing from Eight Con­tem­po­rary Play­wrights

1. Start

or

2. Don’t start. Let your idea mar­i­nate for a min­i­mum of six months, then start.

3.. Have some sort of out­line or plan before you start

4. Do some research

5. Don’t be judg­men­tal of your writ­ing while you’re writ­ing

6. Embrace the ter­ri­ble first draft 

7. Don’t show any­one your first draft, unless you want to.

8. Know how it’s going to end

or

9. Don’t know how it’s going end

10. Work with oth­ers

11. Print it, and read it like some­one expe­ri­enc­ing it for the first time. No edit­ing aloud. Get that pen out of your hand.

And now, it’s time to dis­cov­er the work of the par­tic­i­pat­ing play­wrights. Go see a show, or at least read about one in the links:

In-Sook Chap­pell

Ryan Craig

Suhay­la El-Bushra

Inua Ellams

Lucy Kirk­wood

Evan Placey

Tanya Ron­der

Simon Stephens

The Nation­al The­atre has sev­er­al fas­ci­nat­ing playlists devot­ed to play­writ­ing. Find them here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Samuel Beck­ett, Absur­dist Play­wright, Nov­el­ist & Poet

How the Russ­ian The­atre Direc­tor Con­stan­tin Stanislavs­ki Rev­o­lu­tion­ized the Craft of Act­ing: A New Video Essay

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Wednes­day, May 16 for anoth­er month­ly install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Muggletonians, an Obscure Religious Sect, Made Beautiful Maps That Put the Earth at the Center of the Solar System (1846)

In 1975, the philoso­pher of sci­ence Paul Fey­er­abend pub­lished his high­ly con­trar­i­an Against Method, a book in which he argued that “sci­ence is essen­tial­ly an anar­chic enter­prise,” and as such, ought to be accord­ed no more priv­i­lege than any oth­er way of know­ing in a demo­c­ra­t­ic soci­ety. Moti­vat­ed by con­cerns about sci­ence as a dom­i­neer­ing ide­ol­o­gy, he argued the his­tor­i­cal messi­ness of sci­en­tif­ic prac­tice, in which the­o­ries come about not through ele­gant log­i­cal think­ing but often by com­plete acci­dent, through copi­ous tri­al and error, intu­ition, imag­i­na­tion, etc. Only in hind­sight do we impose restric­tions and tidy rules and nar­ra­tives on rev­o­lu­tion­ary dis­cov­er­ies.

Sev­er­al years lat­er, in the third, 1993 edi­tion of the book, Fey­erebend observed with alarm the same wide­spread anti-sci­ence bias that Carl Sagan wrote of two years lat­er in Demon-Haunt­ed World. “Times have changed,” he wrote, “Con­sid­er­ing some ten­den­cies in U.S. edu­ca­tion… and in the world at large I think that rea­son should now be giv­en greater weight.”

Fey­er­abend died the fol­low­ing year, but I won­der how he might revise or qual­i­fy a 2018 edi­tion of the book, or whether he would repub­lish it at all. Polit­i­cal­ly-moti­vat­ed sci­ence denial­ism reigns. Indeed, a blithe denial of any observ­able real­i­ty, aid­ed by dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy, has become a dystopi­an new norm. But as the philoso­pher also com­ment­ed, such cir­cum­stances may “occur fre­quent­ly today… but may dis­ap­pear tomor­row.”

In the record­ed his­to­ry of human inquiry across cul­tures and civ­i­liza­tions, we see ideas we call sci­en­tif­ic co-exist­ing with what we rec­og­nize as pseu­do- and anti-sci­en­tif­ic notions. The dif­fer­ences aren’t always very clear at the time. And then, some­times, they are. Dur­ing the so-called Age of Rea­son, when the devel­op­ment of the mod­ern sci­ences in Europe slow­ly eclipsed oth­er modes of expla­na­tion, one obscure group of con­trar­i­ans per­sist­ed in almost com­i­cal­ly stub­born unrea­son. Call­ing them­selves the Mug­gle­to­ni­ans, the Protes­tant sect—like those today who deny cli­mate change and evolution—resisted an over­whelm­ing con­sen­sus of empir­i­cal sci­ence, the Coper­ni­can view of the solar sys­tem, despite all avail­able evi­dence the con­trary. In so doing, they left behind a series of “beau­ti­ful celes­tial maps,” notes Greg Miller at Nation­al Geo­graph­ic, some of which resem­ble William Blake’s visu­al poet­ry.

The sect began in 1651, when a Lon­don tai­lor named John Reeve “claimed to have received a mes­sage from God” nam­ing his cousin Lodow­icke Mug­gle­ton as the “’last mes­sen­ger for a great work unto this bloody unbe­liev­ing world.’… One of the main prin­ci­ples of their faith, a lat­er observ­er wrote, was that ‘There is no Dev­il but the unclean Rea­son of men.’” Their view of the uni­verse, based, of course, on scrip­ture, resem­bles the Medieval Catholic view that Galileo attempt­ed to cor­rect, but their prin­ci­ple antag­o­nist was not the Ital­ian poly­math or the ear­li­er Renais­sance astronomer Coper­ni­cus, but the great sci­en­tif­ic mind of the time, Isaac New­ton, whom Mug­gle­to­ni­ans railed against into the 19th and even 20th cen­tu­ry. Mug­gle­to­ni­ans, Miller writes,” had remark­able longevity—the last known mem­ber died in 1979 after donat­ing the sect’s archive of books and papers… to the British Library.”

These plates come from an 1846 book called Two Sys­tems of Astron­o­my. Writ­ten by Mug­gle­ton­ian Isaac Frost, it “pit­ted the sci­en­tif­ic sys­tem of Isaac Newton—which held that the grav­i­ta­tion­al pull of the sun holds the Earth and oth­er plan­ets in orbit around it—against an Earth-cen­tered uni­verse based on a lit­er­al inter­pre­ta­tion of the Bible.” The plate above, for exam­ple, “attempts to show the absur­di­ty of the New­ton­ian sys­tem by depict­ing our solar sys­tem as one of many in an infi­nite and god­less uni­verse.” Iron­i­cal­ly, in attempt­ing to ridicule New­ton (who was him­self a pseu­do-sci­en­tist and Bib­li­cal lit­er­al­ist in oth­er ways), the Mug­gle­to­ni­ans stum­bled upon the view of mod­ern astronomers, who extrap­o­late a mind-bog­gling num­ber of pos­si­ble solar sys­tems in an observ­able uni­verse of over 100 bil­lion galax­ies (though these sys­tems are not enclosed cells crammed togeth­er side-by-side). Anoth­er plate, below, shows Frost’s depic­tion of the hat­ed New­ton­ian sys­tem, with the Earth, Mars, and Jupiter orbit­ing the Sun.

The oth­er maps, fur­ther up, all rep­re­sent the Mug­gle­ton­ian view. His­to­ri­an of sci­ence Fran­cis Reid describes it thus:

Accord­ing to Frost, Scrip­ture clear­ly states that the Sun, the Moon and the Stars are embed­ded in a fir­ma­ment made of con­gealed water and revolve around the Earth, that Heav­en has a phys­i­cal real­i­ty above and beyond the stars, and that the plan­ets and the Moon do not reflect the Sun’s rays but are them­selves inde­pen­dent sources of light.

Frost gave lec­tures at “estab­lish­ments set up for the edu­ca­tion of arti­sans and oth­er work­men.” It seems he didn’t attract much atten­tion and was fre­quent­ly heck­led by audi­ence mem­bers. Like flat earth­ers, Mug­gle­to­ni­ans were treat­ed as cranks, and unlike today’s reli­gious anti-sci­ence cru­saders, they nev­er had the pow­er to influ­ence pub­lic pol­i­cy or edu­ca­tion. For this rea­son, per­haps, it is easy to see them as quaint­ly humor­ous. Frost’s maps, as Miller writes, “remain strange­ly allur­ing” for both their artis­tic qual­i­ty and their aston­ish­ing­ly deter­mined creduli­ty. The plates are now part of the mas­sive David Rum­sey col­lec­tion, which hous­es thou­sands of rare his­tor­i­cal maps. For anoth­er fas­ci­nat­ing look at reli­gious car­tog­ra­phy, see Miller’s Nation­al Geo­graph­ic post “map­ping the Apoc­a­lypse.”

via Nation­al Geo­graph­ic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Book Thief Forged a Rare Edi­tion of Galileo’s Sci­en­tif­ic Work, and Almost Pulled it Off

Down­load 67,000 His­toric Maps (in High Res­o­lu­tion) from the Won­der­ful David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion

Carl Sagan Pre­dicts the Decline of Amer­i­ca: Unable to Know “What’s True,” We Will Slide, “With­out Notic­ing, Back into Super­sti­tion & Dark­ness” (1995)

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

The Power of Eddie Vedder’s Voice: Hear Isolated Vocal Tracks from Three Classic Pearl Jam Songs

A life­time of rock star excess has tak­en its toll on Eddie Vedder’s voice but not on his tal­ent. Most recent per­for­mances have tilt­ed towards the gen­tle, the acoustic, the Amer­i­cana, reflect­ing his larg­er embrace of the broad expanse of Amer­i­can music. And yes, he can still rock when needs be.

But these iso­lat­ed vocal tracks–”Alive” above and “Black” and “Porch” below–show how pow­er­ful Vedder’s pipes were back in the day at the height of grunge. Ved­der used a lot of vibra­to, more than one can hear in the full band ver­sions. He doesn’t use it so much when he holds a note, but on all the lit­tle notes in between.

And on “Porch” there’s a pow­er­ful plead­ing to the entire deliv­ery that’s both vul­ner­a­ble and hyper­mas­cu­line at the same time. Where Kurt Cobain always seemed to be deliv­er­ing rage inward, Ved­der deliv­ered it out­wards, like the sound of moun­tains as a log­ging com­pa­ny got to work.

The videos try to match up con­cert footage with these stu­dio tracks and the fact they sync so well show the con­sis­ten­cy in his deliv­ery. (The sped up tem­po changes, not so much.)

Of course, iso­lat­ed vocals also mean remix­ers attack! Here’s a few that might hor­ri­fy a few grunge stal­warts.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Eddie Ved­der Sings Disney’s “Let It Go” at Pearl Jam Con­cert in Italy

Willie Nel­son Sings Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe” (And We’re Tak­ing a Deep Breath Too)

The Rolling Stones “Shat­tered” Cov­ered by Eddie Ved­der & Julie Andrews (Ok, It’s Real­ly Jeanne Trip­ple­horn)

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.

The First 100 Years of the Bicycle: A 1915 Documentary Shows How the Bike Went from Its Clunky Birth in 1818, to Its Enduring Design in 1890

Back in 1915, French film­mak­ers decid­ed to revis­it the evo­lu­tion of the bicy­cle dur­ing the 19th cen­tu­ry, mov­ing from the inven­tion of the bicy­cle in 1818, to the bikes that emerged dur­ing the 1890s. As the result­ing film above shows, the bike went from being clunky, cum­ber­some and seem­ing­ly per­ilous to ride, to tak­ing on the tried and true shape that we still rec­og­nize today.

This film was pre­served by the Nether­lands’ EYE Film Insti­tute. Hence the sub­ti­tles are in Dutch. But thanks to Aeon Mag­a­zine, you can read Eng­lish trans­la­tions below:

1. The drai­sine was invent­ed only a cen­tu­ry ago, in 1818 by Baron Drais de Sauer­brun.
2. [This sub­ti­tle nev­er appears in the film.
3. The vehi­cle that lies between the drai­sine and the 1850 bicy­cle has an improved steer­ing wheel and a fit­ted brake.
4. In 1863, Pierre Lalle­ment invent­ed ped­als that worked on the front wheel.
5. Around 1868, a third wheel was added. Although these tri­cy­cles were heav­ier than the two-wheel­ers, they were safer.
6. Between 1867 and 1870, var­i­ous improve­ments were made, includ­ing the increased use of rub­ber tyres.
7. In 1875, fol­low­ing an inven­tion by the engi­neer Tri­ef­fault, the frame was made of hol­low pipes.
8. Fol­low­ing the fash­ion of the day, the front wheel was made as large as pos­si­ble.
9. In 1878, Renard cre­at­ed a bicy­cle with a wheel cir­cum­fer­ence of more than 7 feet. Just sit­ting down on one of these was an ath­let­ic feat!
11. At the begin­ning of 1879, Rousseau replaced the large front wheel with a small­er one, and the chain was intro­duced on the front wheel for dri­ving pow­er.
12. The bicy­cle of today.

For anoth­er look at the Birth of the Bike, you can watch a 1937 news­reel that gives its own nar­ra­tive account. It comes the from British Pathé film archives.

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 Aeon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Young Frank Zap­pa Plays the Bicy­cle on The Steven Allen Show (1963)

Watch Boy and Bicy­cle: Rid­ley Scott’s Very First Film (1965)

Watch The Bicy­cle Trip: An Ani­ma­tion of The World’s First LSD Trip Which Took Place on April 19, 1943

How the Mysteries of the Vatican Secret Archives Are Being Revealed by Artificial Intelligence


Some­where with­in the Vat­i­can exists the Vat­i­can Secret Archives, whose 53 miles of shelv­ing con­tains more than 600 col­lec­tions of account books, offi­cial acts, papal cor­re­spon­dence, and oth­er his­tor­i­cal doc­u­ments. Though its hold­ings date back to the eighth cen­tu­ry, it has in the past few weeks come to world­wide atten­tion. This has brought about all man­ner of jokes about the plot of Dan Brown’s next nov­el, but also impor­tant news about the tech­nol­o­gy of man­u­script dig­i­ti­za­tion. It seems a project to get the con­tents of the Vat­i­can Secret Archives dig­i­tized and online has made great progress crack­ing a prob­lem that once seemed impos­si­bly dif­fi­cult: turn­ing hand­writ­ing into com­put­er-search­able text.

In Codice Ratio is “devel­op­ing a full-fledged sys­tem to auto­mat­i­cal­ly tran­scribe the con­tents of the man­u­scripts” that uses not the stan­dard method of opti­cal char­ac­ter recog­ni­tion (OCR), which looks for the spaces between words, but a new way that can han­dle con­nect­ed cur­sive and cal­li­graph­ic let­ters. Their method, in the lin­go of the field, “is to gov­ern impre­cise char­ac­ter seg­men­ta­tion by con­sid­er­ing that cor­rect seg­ments are those that give rise to a sequence of char­ac­ters that more like­ly com­pose a Latin word. We have designed a prin­ci­pled solu­tion that relies on con­vo­lu­tion­al neur­al net­works and sta­tis­ti­cal lan­guage mod­els.”

This is a job, in oth­er words, for arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence, but in part­ner­ship with human intel­li­gence, a sel­dom-tapped source of which the sci­en­tists behind In Codice Ratio have har­nessed: that of high-school stu­dents. Their spe­cial OCR soft­ware, writes the Atlantic’s Sam Kean, works by “divid­ing each word into a series of ver­ti­cal and hor­i­zon­tal bands and look­ing for local minimums—the thin­ner por­tions, where there’s less ink (or real­ly, few­er pix­els). The soft­ware then carves the let­ters at these joints.” But the soft­ware “needs to know which groups of chunks rep­re­sent real let­ters and which are bogus,” and so “the team recruit­ed stu­dents at 24 schools in Italy to build the projects’ mem­o­ry banks,” man­u­al­ly sep­a­rat­ing the let­ters the sys­tem had prop­er­ly rec­og­nized from those over which it had stum­bled.

And so the stu­dents became the sys­tem’s “teach­ers,” improv­ing its abil­i­ty to extract the con­tent of hand­writ­ing, and not just hand­writ­ing but vast quan­ti­ties of archa­ic hand­writ­ing, with every click they made. The encour­ag­ing results thus far mean that it prob­a­bly won’t be long before large por­tions of the Vat­i­can Secret Archives (which, con­trary to its awk­ward­ly trans­lat­ed name, is such a non-secret it even has its own offi­cial web site) will final­ly become easy to browse, search, copy, paste, and ana­lyze. So they may, in the full­ness of time, prove a fruit­ful resource indeed to writ­ers of Catholi­cism-cen­tric thrillers like Brown — who, after all, has already gone pub­lic with his enthu­si­asm for man­u­script dig­i­ti­za­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Explore 5,300 Rare Man­u­scripts Dig­i­tized by the Vat­i­can: From The Ili­ad & Aeneid, to Japan­ese & Aztec Illus­tra­tions

Behold 3,000 Dig­i­tized Man­u­scripts from the Bib­lio­the­ca Palati­na: The Moth­er of All Medieval Libraries Is Get­ting Recon­struct­ed Online

3,500 Occult Man­u­scripts Will Be Dig­i­tized & Made Freely Avail­able Online, Thanks to Da Vin­ci Code Author Dan Brown

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.

Dozens of M.C. Escher Prints Now Digitized & Put Online by the Boston Public Library

In addi­tion to the icon­ic scene in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, or appear­ances in ani­mat­ed TV shows and video games, M.C. Escher’s work has adorned the cov­ers of albums like Mott the Hoople’s 1969 debut and the spec­u­la­tive fic­tion of Ita­lo Calvi­no and Jorge Luis Borges. A big hit with hip­pies and 1960s col­lege stu­dents, writes Heavy Music Art­work, his mind-bend­ing prints became asso­ci­at­ed with “ques­tion­ing accept­ed views of nor­mal expe­ri­ence and test­ing the lim­its of per­cep­tion with hal­lu­cino­genic drugs.” While he appre­ci­at­ed his cult fol­low­ing, Esch­er “did not encour­age their mys­ti­cal inter­pre­ta­tions of his images.” Reply­ing to one enthu­si­as­tic fan of his print Rep­tiles, who claimed to see in it an image of rein­car­na­tion, Esch­er replied, “Madame, if that’s the way you see it, so be it.”

Rather than illus­trate high­er states of con­scious­ness or meta­phys­i­cal enti­ties, Bruno Ernst writes in The Mag­ic Mir­ror of M.C. Esch­er, the artist intend­ed to cre­ate prac­ti­cal, “pic­to­r­i­al rep­re­sen­ta­tion of intel­lec­tu­al under­stand­ing.” Illus­tra­tions, that is, of philo­soph­i­cal and sci­en­tif­ic thought exper­i­ments. The son of a civ­il engi­neer, Esch­er began his stud­ies in archi­tec­ture before mov­ing to draw­ing and print­mak­ing.

The chal­lenge of cre­at­ing built environments—even seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble ones—always seemed to occu­py his mind. Along with themes from the nat­ur­al world, a high per­cent­age of his works cen­ter on buildings—inspired by for­ma­tive ear­ly years in Rome and his admi­ra­tion for Islam­ic art and Span­ish archi­tec­ture.

In the 50s and 60s Escher’s art piqued the inter­est of aca­d­e­mics and math­e­mati­cians, an audi­ence he found more con­ge­nial to his vision. He cor­re­spond­ed with sci­en­tists and incor­po­rat­ed their ideas into his work, mean­while claim­ing to be “absolute­ly inno­cent of train­ing or knowl­edge in the exact sci­ences.” In the 50s, Esch­er “daz­zled” the likes of math­e­mati­cians like Roger Pen­rose and HSM Cox­eter. In turn, notes Maev Kennedy, he “was inspired by Penroses’s per­spec­ti­val tri­an­gle and Coxeter’s work on crys­tal sym­me­try.”

For all the excite­ment he cre­at­ed among math­e­mati­cians, it took a bit longer for Esch­er to get noticed in the art world. When Penrose’s uncle showed Escher’s ver­sion of the per­spec­ti­val tri­an­gle to Picas­so, “Picas­so had heard of the British math­e­mati­cian but not of the Dutch artist.” Escher’s fame spread out­side of the sci­ences in part through the inter­ests of the coun­ter­cul­ture. He may have shrugged off mys­ti­cal and psy­che­del­ic read­ings of his prints, but he had an innate pen­chant for the mar­velous­ly weird (see his copy of a scene, for exam­ple, from Hierony­mus Bosch, above, or his sur­re­al print Grav­i­ty, below).

See the prints pic­tured here and a few dozen more dig­i­tized in high res­o­lu­tion at Dig­i­tal Com­mon­wealth, cour­tesy of Boston Pub­lic Library, who scanned their Esch­er col­lec­tion and made it avail­able to the pub­lic. Zoom into the fine details of prints like Inside Saint Peter’s, fur­ther up—a fine­ly ren­dered but oth­er­wise not-espe­cial­ly-Esch­er-like work—and the labyrinthine Ascend­ing and Descend­ing at the top. Whether—as Har­vard Library cura­tor John Over­holt con­fess­es—you’re a “nerd who loves M.C. Esch­er” for his math­e­mat­i­cal mind, an artist with a mys­ti­cal bent who loves him for his hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry qual­i­ties, or some mea­sure of both, you’ll find exact­ly the Esch­er you’re look­ing for in this dig­i­tal gallery.

via Kot­tke/John Over­holt

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Enter an Online Inter­ac­tive Doc­u­men­tary on M.C. Escher’s Art & Life, Nar­rat­ed By Peter Green­away

M.C. Esch­er Cov­er Art for Great Books by Ita­lo Calvi­no, George Orwell & Jorge Luis Borges

Watch M.C. Esch­er Make His Final Artis­tic Cre­ation in the 1971 Doc­u­men­tary Adven­tures in Per­cep­tion

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

You Could Soon Be Able to Text with 2,000 Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs

Grow­ing up, I had a box set of Egypt­ian hiero­glyph­ic stamps from the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art. For a few weeks I used it to write cod­ed let­ters to a friend, pos­sessed of the same box set, who lived else­where in the neigh­bor­hood. Today’s smart­phone-tot­ing kids, of course, pre­fer text mes­sag­ing, a medi­um which to date has offered lit­tle in the way of hiero­glyph­ics, espe­cial­ly com­pared to the vast and ever-grow­ing qua­si-logo­graph­ic library of emo­ji, all of them approved by the offi­cial emo­ji sub­com­mit­tee of the Uni­code Con­sor­tium. But Uni­code itself, the indus­try-stan­dard sys­tem for dig­i­tal­ly encod­ing, rep­re­sent­ing, and han­dling text in the var­i­ous writ­ing sys­tems of the world, may soon expand to include more than 2,000 hiero­glyph­ics.

“Between 750 and 1,000 Hiero­glyphs were used by Egypt­ian authors dur­ing the peri­ods of the Old, Mid­dle, and then New King­dom (2687 BCE–1081 BCE),” writes Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Sarah E. Bond. “That num­ber lat­er great­ly increased dur­ing the Gre­co-Roman peri­od, like­ly to around 7,000.”

Dur­ing that time under Alexan­der the Great, the Ptolemies, and the Roman Empire, “the lan­guage grew, changed, and diver­si­fied over the course of thou­sands of years, a fact which can now be reflect­ed through its dig­i­tal encod­ing. Although Egypt­ian Hiero­glyphs have been defined with­in Uni­code since ver­sion 5.2, released in 2009, the glyphs were high­ly lim­it­ed in num­ber and did not stretch into the Gre­co-Roman peri­od.”

That sit­u­a­tion could great­ly improve if the Uni­code Con­sor­tium approves its revised draft of stan­dards for encod­ing Egypt­ian Hiero­glyphs cur­rent­ly on the table, a scroll through which reveals how much more of the visu­al (not to men­tion seman­tic) rich­ness of this ancient writ­ing sys­tem that could soon come avail­able to any­one with a dig­i­tal device. Its rich vari­ety of tools, ani­mals, icons (in both the old and mod­ern sens­es), humans, and ele­ments of human anato­my could do much for the Egyp­tol­o­gists of the world need­ing to effi­cient­ly send the con­tent of the texts they study to one anoth­er. And though I recall get­ting plen­ty com­mu­ni­cat­ed with those 24 rub­ber stamps, who dares pre­dict to what use those tex­ting kids will put these thou­sands of dig­i­tal hiero­glyph­ics when they get them at their fin­ger­tips?

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids Were Built: A New The­o­ry in 3D Ani­ma­tion

Try the Old­est Known Recipe For Tooth­paste: From Ancient Egypt, Cir­ca the 4th Cen­tu­ry BC

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

The Met Dig­i­tal­ly Restores the Col­ors of an Ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple, Using Pro­jec­tion Map­ping Tech­nol­o­gy

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 New Scientific Study Supports Putting Two Spaces After a Period … and a Punctuation War Ensues

Pho­to via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In for­mer ages, wars erupt­ed over the fin­er points of reli­gious doc­trine, a his­tor­i­cal phe­nom­e­non that can seem per­plex­ing to mod­ern sec­u­lar­ists. We’re past such things, we think. But then let some­one bring up the Oxford com­ma or the num­ber of spaces one should put after a peri­od, and you may see writ­ers, edi­tors, and teach­ers pick sides and maybe come to blows in their defense of seem­ing­ly triv­ial gram­mat­i­cal and typo­graph­i­cal stan­dards. These debates approach the vehe­mence of Medieval argu­ments over tran­sub­stan­ti­a­tion.

I exag­ger­ate, but maybe only slight­ly. There have been times, I con­fess, when I’ve felt I would fight for the ser­i­al com­ma. I grind my teeth and feel a rush of rage when I see two spaces instead of one after the end of sen­tences. Irra­tional, per­haps, but such is the human devo­tion to ortho­doxy in the details. And so, when Skid­more Col­lege researchers Rebec­ca John­son, Becky Bui, and Lind­say Schmitt pub­lished a paper last month in Atten­tion, Per­cep­tion, & Psy­chophysics claim­ing sci­en­tif­ic sup­port for a two-space peri­od, they vir­tu­al­ly lobbed a bomb into offices every­where.

Angela Chen at The Verge par­ried with an arti­cle call­ing two spaces a “hor­ri­ble habit.” The prac­tice “remains bad,” she writes, “it’s ugly, it doesn’t help when it comes to what mat­ters most (read­ing com­pre­hen­sion), and the exper­i­ment that sup­ports its ben­e­fits uses an out­dat­ed font style.” (Don’t get me start­ed on the font wars.) What was the exper­i­ment? The paper itself hides behind a redoubtable pay­wall, but Ars Tech­ni­ca’s Sean Gal­lagher gets to the gist of the study on a cohort of 60 Skid­more stu­dents.

Hav­ing iden­ti­fied sub­jects’ pro­cliv­i­ties, the researchers then gave them 21 para­graphs to read (includ­ing one prac­tice para­graph) on a com­put­er screen and tracked their eye move­ment as they read using an Eye­link 1000 video-based eye track­ing sys­tem. “Chin and fore­head rests were used to min­i­mize the read­er’s head move­ments,” the Skid­more researchers wrote in their paper.

After the track­ing, the researchers “eval­u­at­ed the read­ing speed for each of the para­graph types pre­sent­ed in words per minute.… [they] found that two spaces at the end of a peri­od slight­ly improved the pro­cess­ing of text dur­ing read­ing.” The study’s attempt to quan­ti­fy the ben­e­fits of two spaces came after the Amer­i­can Psy­cho­log­i­cal Asso­ci­a­tion Man­u­al’s most recent edi­tion, which, for some rea­son, has changed camps to two spaces.

Gal­lagher explains the space debate as stem­ming from the major tech­no­log­i­cal shift in word pro­cess­ing: “For any­one who learned their key­board­ing skills on a type­writer rather than a com­put­er… the dou­ble-space after the peri­od is a deeply ingrained truth.” Speak­ing as such a per­son, it isn’t, but he’s right to note that typ­ing teach­ers insist­ed on two spaces. Such was the stan­dard until com­put­ers with vari­able-width fonts ful­ly phased out type­writ­ers.

So the Skid­more researchers raised the ire of Chen and oth­ers with their use of Couri­er New, a “fixed-width font that resem­bles type­writ­ten text—used by hard­ly any­one for doc­u­ments.” The blog Prac­ti­cal Typog­ra­phy ana­lyzed the two space paper and remains unim­pressed: “In sum—a small dif­fer­ence, lim­it­ed to a cer­tain cat­e­go­ry of test sub­jects, with numer­ous caveats attached. Not much to see here, I’m afraid.” (This descrip­tion might accu­rate­ly describe thou­sands of pub­lished stud­ies.)

This war will rage on—the study fuel­ing these recent skir­mish­es does not seem to jus­ti­fy two-spac­ers claim­ing vic­to­ry. And any­way, good luck get­ting the rest of us to aban­don faith in the one true space.

via The Verge

Relat­ed Con­tent:

His­tor­i­cal Plaque Memo­ri­al­izes the Time Jack Ker­ouac & William S. Bur­roughs Came to Blows Over the Oxford Com­ma (Or Not)

Cor­mac McCarthy’s Three Punc­tu­a­tion Rules, and How They All Go Back to James Joyce

Theodor Adorno’s Phi­los­o­phy of Punc­tu­a­tion

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

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.