An Introduction to Ivan Ilyin, the Philosopher Behind the Authoritarianism of Putin’s Russia & Western Far Right Movements

Fas­cism had been creep­ing back into Euro­pean and North Amer­i­can pol­i­tics for many years before the word regained its cur­ren­cy in main­stream dis­course as an alarm­ing descrip­tion of present trends. In 2004, his­to­ri­an Enzo Tra­ver­so wrote of the “unset­tling phe­nom­e­non” of “the rise of fas­cist-inspired polit­i­cal move­ments in the Euro­pean are­na (from France to Italy, from Bel­gium to Aus­tria).” Many of those far-right move­ments have come very close to win­ning pow­er, as in Aus­tria and France’s recent elec­tions, or have done so, as in Italy’s.

And while the sud­den rise of the far right came as a shock to many in the US, polit­i­cal com­men­ta­tors fre­quent­ly point out that the ero­sion of demo­c­ra­t­ic civ­il rights and lib­er­ties has been a decades-long project, coin­cid­ing with the finan­cial­iza­tion of the econ­o­my, the pri­va­ti­za­tion of pub­lic goods and ser­vices, the rise of the mass sur­veil­lance state, and the extra­or­di­nary war pow­ers assumed, and nev­er relin­quished, by the exec­u­tive after 9/11, cre­at­ing a per­ma­nent state of excep­tion and weak­en­ing checks on pres­i­den­tial pow­er.

This is not even to men­tion the auto­crat­ic regimes of Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Russia’s Vladimir Putin, which are tied to oth­er anti-demo­c­ra­t­ic move­ments across the West not only geopo­lit­i­cal­ly but also philo­soph­i­cal­ly, a sub­ject that gets far less press than it deserves. When analy­sis of the philo­soph­i­cal under­pin­nings of neo-fas­cism comes up, it often focus­es on Russ­ian aca­d­e­m­ic Alexan­der Dug­in, “who has been called,” notes Salon’s Conor Lynch, “every­thing from ‘Putin’s brain’ to ‘Putin’s Rasputin.’” (Bloomberg calls Dug­in “the one Russ­ian link­ing Putin, Erdo­gon and Trump.”)

Dugin’s fusion of Hei­deg­ger­ian post­mod­ernism and apoc­a­lyp­tic mys­ti­cism plays a sig­nif­i­cant role in the ide­ol­o­gy of the glob­al­ized far right. But Yale his­to­ri­an Tim­o­thy Sny­der—who has writ­ten exten­sive­ly on both Sovi­et Rus­sia and Nazi Germany—points to an ear­li­er Russ­ian thinker whom he says exer­cis­es con­sid­er­able influ­ence on the ide­ol­o­gy of Vladimir Putin, the fas­cist philoso­pher Ivan Ilyin.

Anton Bar­bashin and Han­nah Thoburn called Ilyin “Putin’s philoso­pher” in a For­eign Affairs pro­file. Ilyin was “a pub­li­cist, a con­spir­a­cy the­o­rist, and a Russ­ian nation­al­ist with a core of fascis­tic lean­ings.” David Brooks iden­ti­fied Ilyin as one of a trio of nation­al­ist philoso­phers Putin quotes and rec­om­mends. Sny­der defines Ilyin’s phi­los­o­phy as explic­it­ly “Russ­ian Chris­t­ian fas­cism,” describ­ing at the New York Review of Books the Russ­ian thinker’s pro­lif­ic writ­ing before and after the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion, a hodge­podge of Ger­man ide­al­ism, psy­cho­analy­sis, Ital­ian fas­cism, and Chris­tian­i­ty.

In brief, Ilyin’s the­o­ret­i­cal works argued that “the world was cor­rupt; it need­ed redemp­tion from a nation capa­ble of total pol­i­tics; that nation was unsoiled Rus­sia.” Ilyin’s, and Putin’s, Russ­ian nation­al­ism has had a para­dox­i­cal­ly glob­al appeal among a wide swath of far right polit­i­cal par­ties and move­ments across the West, as Sny­der writes in his lat­est book The Road to Unfree­dom: Rus­sia, Europe, Amer­i­ca. “What these ways of think­ing have in com­mon,” write The Econ­o­mist in their review of Sny­der’s book, “is a qua­si-mys­ti­cal belief in the des­tiny of nations and rulers, which sets aside the need to observe laws or pro­ce­dures, or grap­ple with phys­i­cal real­i­ties.”

Sny­der sum­ma­rizes Ilyin’s ideas in the Big Think video above in ways that make clear how his thought appeals to far right move­ments across nation­al bor­ders. Ilyin, he says, is “prob­a­bly the most impor­tant exam­ple of how old ideas”—the fas­cism of the 20s, 30s, and 40s—“can be brought back in the 21st cen­tu­ry for a post­mod­ern con­text.” Those ideas can be sum­ma­rized in three the­ses, says Sny­der, the first hav­ing to do with the con­ser­v­a­tive reifi­ca­tion of social hier­ar­chies. “Social advance­ment was impos­si­ble because the polit­i­cal sys­tem, the social sys­tem, is like a body… you have a place in this body. Free­dom means know­ing your place.”

“A sec­ond idea,” says Sny­der, relates to vot­ing as a rat­i­fi­ca­tion, rather than elec­tion, of the leader. “Democ­ra­cy is a rit­u­al…. We only vote in order to affirm our col­lec­tive sup­port for our leader. The leader’s not legit­i­mat­ed by our votes or cho­sen by our votes.” The leader, instead, emerges “from some oth­er place.… In fas­cism the leader is some kind of hero, who emerges from myth.” The third idea might imme­di­ate­ly remind US read­ers of Karl Rove’s dis­missal of the “real­i­ty-based com­mu­ni­ty,” a chill­ing augur of the fact-free real­i­ty of today’s pol­i­tics.

Ilyin thought that “the fac­tu­al world doesn’t count. It’s not real.” In a restate­ment of gnos­tic the­ol­o­gy, he believed that “God cre­at­ed the world but that was a mis­take. The world was a kind of abort­ed process,” because it lacks coher­ence and uni­ty. The world of observ­able facts was, to him, “hor­ri­fy­ing…. Those facts are dis­gust­ing and of no val­ue what­so­ev­er.” These three ideas, Sny­der argues, under­pin Putin’s rule. They also define Amer­i­can polit­i­cal life under Trump, he con­cludes in his New York Review of Books essay.

Ilyin “made of law­less­ness a virtue so pure as to be invis­i­ble,” Sny­der writes, “and so absolute as to demand the destruc­tion of the West. He shows us how frag­ile mas­culin­i­ty gen­er­ates ene­mies, how per­vert­ed Chris­tian­i­ty rejects Jesus, how eco­nom­ic inequal­i­ty imi­tates inno­cence, and how fas­cist ideas flow into the post­mod­ern. This is no longer just Russ­ian phi­los­o­phy. It is now Amer­i­can life.” There are more than enough home­grown sources for Amer­i­can author­i­tar­i­an­ism and inequal­i­ty, one can argue. But Sny­der makes a com­pelling case for the obscure Russ­ian thinker as an indi­rect, and insid­i­ous, influ­ence.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Umber­to Eco Makes a List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

20 Lessons from the 20th Cen­tu­ry About How to Defend Democ­ra­cy from Author­i­tar­i­an­ism, Accord­ing to Yale His­to­ri­an Tim­o­thy Sny­der

George Orwell’s Final Warn­ing: Don’t Let This Night­mare Sit­u­a­tion Hap­pen. It Depends on You!

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

Visit the Largest Collection of Frida Kahlo’s Work Ever Assembled: 800 Artifacts from 33 Museums, All Free Online

Some films achieve the rare feat of being both col­or­ful escapist fan­ta­sy and art­ful means of recon­nect­ing us with our imper­iled human­i­ty. Pixar’s won­der­ful, ani­mat­ed Coco is such a film, “an explo­ration of val­ues,” writes Jia Tolenti­no at The New York­er, “a sto­ry of a multi­gen­er­a­tional matri­archy, root­ed in the past—whereas real life, these days, feels like an atem­po­ral, struc­ture­less night­mare ruled by men.” Cen­tral to its fic­tion­al­ized cel­e­bra­tion of Mex­i­can cul­ture and his­to­ry is a his­tor­i­cal fig­ure every grown-up view­er knows—that fore­moth­er of Mex­i­can mod­ernism, Fri­da Kahlo, an artist who seems as nec­es­sary to remem­ber now as ever.

Not that Fri­da Kahlo is in dan­ger of being for­got­ten. She is adored around the world, an icon for mil­lions of peo­ple who see them­selves in the var­i­ous inter­sec­tions of her iden­ti­ty: Mex­i­can, mes­ti­za, queer, dis­abled, fem­i­nist, uncom­pro­mis­ing­ly rad­i­cal, etc….

Kahlo’s iden­ti­ties mat­ter, and she made them mat­ter. She would not be erased or let her edges be planed away and sand­ed down. Like oth­er con­fes­sion­al artists to whom she is often com­pared, Kahlo turned her trag­i­cal­ly painful, joy­ous­ly vibrant life into endur­ing art. To crib Audre Lorde’s descrip­tion of poet­ry, her work is a “rev­e­la­to­ry dis­til­la­tion of expe­ri­ence.”

But the con­fes­sion­al under­stand­ing of Kahlo can present a crit­i­cal prob­lem, name­ly the emer­gence of what Stephanie Mencimer calls “the Kahlo Cult.”

…her fans are large­ly drawn by the sto­ry of her life, for which her paint­ings are often pre­sent­ed as sim­ple illus­tra­tion…. But, like a game of tele­phone, the more Kahlo’s sto­ry has been told, the more it has been dis­tort­ed, omit­ting uncom­fort­able details that show her to be a far more com­plex and flawed fig­ure than the movies and cook­books sug­gest.

In any case, we may not need more hagiog­ra­phy of Fri­da. We find her life, flaws and all, in her work. From the rav­ages of child­hood polio and a hor­rif­ic traf­fic acci­dent at 18 (depict­ed in the draw­ing below but nev­er in a paint­ing), from love affairs, a deep immer­sion in Mex­i­can folk art, and a com­mit­ment to social­ism and the Mex­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion, Kahlo cre­at­ed an auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal oeu­vre like no oth­er. That said, Kahlo her­self is so unde­ni­ably fas­ci­nat­ing a char­ac­ter that “no one need appre­ci­ate art to jus­ti­fy being a Kahlo fan or even a Kahlo cultist,” as Peter Schjel­dahl once wrote. “Why not? The world will have cults, and who bet­ter mer­its one?”

For the art appre­ci­a­tors and Kahlo cultists alike, Google Arts & Cul­ture has cre­at­ed a project that brings togeth­er her life and work in ways that illu­mi­nate both, with bio­graph­i­cal and crit­i­cal essays, and a thor­ough exhib­it of her work from muse­ums all over the world, includ­ing many lit­tle-known pieces like her sketch­es, draw­ings, and ear­ly works; a look at her let­ters and many pho­tographs of her through­out her life; an online exhi­bi­tion of her famous wardrobe; sev­er­al fea­tures of her influ­ence on LGBTQ artists, musi­cians, fash­ion design­ers, and much, much more. It’s “the largest Kahlo cura­tion ever assem­bled,” notes My Mod­ern Met. “The best part? No need to pay a muse­um fee—it’s avail­able online for any­one to enjoy for free.”

A col­lab­o­ra­tion “between the tech giant and a world­wide net­work of experts and 33 part­ner muse­ums in sev­en coun­tries,” notes Hyper­al­ler­gic, Faces of Fri­da con­tains 800 arti­facts, “includ­ing 20 ultra-high res­o­lu­tion images… nev­er dig­i­tized till now.” Some of these arti­facts are extreme­ly rare, such as “ear­ly ver­sions of her work, sketched and etched onto the backs of fin­ished paint­ings, unseen by any­one with­out the abil­i­ty to touch them.” You can also see the places that most influ­enced her career through five Google Street view tours, “includ­ing the famous Blue House in Mex­i­co City in which she was born and died.”

This com­pre­hen­sive online gallery seeks to encom­pass every part of Frida’s life, but rarely takes the focus from her work. “Of the 150 or so of her works that have sur­vived,” notes Mencimer, “most are self-por­traits. As she lat­er said, ‘I paint myself because I am so often alone, because I am the sub­ject I know best.’” Work­ing out­ward from her­self, she also paint­ed the spe­cif­ic res­o­nances of her time and place, and explored human expe­ri­ences that tran­scend per­son­al­i­ty. “As with all the best artists,” says author Frances Borzel­lo in one of the Google Arts fea­tures, “Kahlo’s art is not a diary inge­nious­ly pre­sent­ed in paint but a recre­ation of per­son­al beliefs, feel­ings and events through her par­tic­u­lar lens into some­thing unique and uni­ver­sal.”

Though a super­star in the land of the dead, dur­ing her life Kahlo’s work was great­ly over­shad­owed by that of her famous hus­band Diego Rivera. She only had two shows in her life­time, one of them arranged by sur­re­al­ist Andre Bre­ton, who called her paint­ing “a rib­bon around a bomb.” After her death in 1954, she “large­ly dis­ap­peared from the main­stream art world.” There is a cer­tain irony in point­ing out that fas­ci­na­tion with Kahlo’s work some­times reduces down to inter­est in her biog­ra­phy, since it took a 1983 biog­ra­phy by Hay­den Her­rera to bring her back into the pub­lic con­scious­ness. “When it was pub­lished” Mer­cimer writes, “there wasn’t a sin­gle mono­graph of Kahlo’s work to show peo­ple what it looked like, but the biog­ra­phy, which could have been the basis for a Uni­vi­sion telen­ov­ela, sparked a Fri­da fren­zy.”

How things have changed. No read­er of Herrera’s book, or any of the many treat­ments of Kahlo’s life since then, will come to it sight unseen. Frida’s face—defiant, mus­ta­chioed, monobrowed—stares out at us from every­where. The Google exhib­it guides us through a com­pre­hen­sive con­tex­tu­al­iza­tion of that haunt­ing, yet famil­iar gaze. The let­ters and bio­graph­i­cal entries con­tain insight after insight into the artist’s pri­vate and pub­lic lives. But ulti­mate­ly, it’s the paint­ings that speak. As Borzel­lo puts it, when we real­ly con­front Frida’s work, we may be struck by “how help­less words are in the face of the strange rich­ness of those images.” She invent­ed new visu­al vocab­u­lar­ies of pain, plea­sure, pride, and per­se­ver­ance. Vis­it Faces of Fri­da here.

via Google’s blog

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Fri­da Kahlo’s Col­or­ful Clothes Revealed for the First Time & Pho­tographed by Ishi­uchi Miyako

1933 Arti­cle on Fri­da Kahlo: “Wife of the Mas­ter Mur­al Painter Glee­ful­ly Dab­bles in Works of Art”

Artists Fri­da Kahlo & Diego Rivera Vis­it Leon Trot­sky in Mex­i­co: Vin­tage Footage from 1938

The Fri­da Kahlo Action Fig­ure

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

The Isolated Vocal Tracks of the Talking Heads’ “Once In A Lifetime” Turn David Byrne into a Wild-Eyed Holy Preacher

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

…until you iso­late the vocal tracks, above.

Talk­ing Heads’ Afrobeat-inflect­ed “Once In A Life­time ” has become one of the band’s most icon­ic num­bers. Even casu­al fans are prone to aping lead singer David Byrne’s shouty, freaked out preach­er man deliv­ery, a style born of exper­i­ments in human sam­pling, and cowriter Bri­an Eno’s inter­est in ear­ly hip hop, Niger­ian musi­cian Fela Kuti, and com­bin­ing mul­ti­ple rhyth­mic ele­ments in a sin­gle song.

Byrne insists that the infec­tious lyrics are not a cri­tique of con­sumerism, as is pop­u­lar­ly believed. Instead, he explains, they’re about mind­ful­ness and the uncon­scious:

We oper­ate half-awake or on autopi­lot and end up, what­ev­er, with a house and fam­i­ly and job and every­thing else, and we haven’t real­ly stopped to ask our­selves, “How did I get here?

Cut loose from the bass, gui­tar, key­boards and drums, the lyrics seem less like semi-impro­vi­sa­tion­al art-geek con­struc­tions than the semi-sin­is­ter ram­blings of a self-styled holy man, maybe the wild-eyed preach­er char­ac­ter Byrne chan­nels in the orig­i­nal video below.

Peo­ple who’ve lis­tened to the stripped down ver­sion online gath­er in the com­ments sec­tion like friends com­par­ing notes near the exit of a haunt­ed house:

I feel like David Byrne is hold­ing me at gun­point and yelling at me in an aban­doned ware­house.

This sounds like David Byrne is lost alone in a cave and shout­ing non­sense into the dark­ness.

It’s like hear­ing a cult some­where in a cav­ern.

This sounds like some­thing you’d hear before being mur­dered??

Read­ers, what asso­ci­a­tions do you have with this song, and where do you find your­self after lis­ten­ing to it sans orches­tra­tion?

And you may find your­self 

Liv­ing in a shot­gun shack

And you may find your­self 

In anoth­er part of the world

And you may find your­self 

Behind the wheel of a large auto­mo­bile

And you may find your­self in a beau­ti­ful house

With a beau­ti­ful wife

And you may ask your­self, well

How did I get here?

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again after the mon­ey’s gone

Once in a life­time, water flow­ing under­ground

And you may ask your­self

How do I work this?

And you may ask your­self

Where is that large auto­mo­bile?

And you may tell your­self

This is not my beau­ti­ful house!

And you may tell your­self

This is not my beau­ti­ful wife!

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again after the mon­ey’s gone

Once in a life­time, water flow­ing under­ground

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Water dis­solv­ing and water remov­ing

There is water at the bot­tom of the ocean

Under the water, car­ry the water

Remove the water at the bot­tom of the ocean!

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again in the silent water

Under the rocks, and stones there is water under­ground

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again after the mon­ey’s gone

Once in a life­time, water flow­ing under­ground

And you may ask your­self

What is that beau­ti­ful house?

And you may ask your­self

Where does that high­way go to?

And you may ask your­self

Am I right? Am I wrong?

And you may say to your­self, “My God! What have I done?”

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again in to the silent water

Under the rocks and stones, there is water under­ground

Let­ting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Let­ting the days go by, water flow­ing under­ground

Into the blue again after the mon­ey’s gone

Once in a life­time, water flow­ing under­ground

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Look where my hand was

Time isn’t hold­ing up

Time isn’t after us

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Same as it ever was

Let­ting the days go by (same as it ever was)

Let­ting the days go by (same as it ever was)

Once in a life­time 

Let­ting the days go by

Let­ting the days go by

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Talk­ing Heads Per­form The Ramones’ “I Wan­na Be Your Boyfriend” Live in 1977 (and How the Bands Got Their Start Togeth­er)

Talk­ing Heads Fea­tured on The South Bank Show in 1979: How the Ground­break­ing New Wave Band Made Nor­mal­i­ty Strange Again

Talk­ing Heads’ “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” Per­formed on Tra­di­tion­al Chi­nese Instru­ments

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Thurs­day June 28 for anoth­er month­ly install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Eight-Year-Old Drum Prodigy Plays Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times Bad Times;” Robert Plant Watches in Wonder

On her Vimeo page, Yoyoka Soma, an eight-year-old-drum­ming prodi­gy, tells you every­thing you need to know to appre­ci­ate this video. Her blurb, accom­pa­ny­ing the video above, reads as fol­lows:

My name is Yoyoka Soma. I am 8 year old Japan­ese drum­mer.

When I was a just small baby, my par­ents had a home stu­dio and there were var­i­ous kinds of instru­ments. My par­ents were per­form­ing music activ­i­ties as ama­teur singer-song­writ­ers and they cra­dled me with their music. When I lis­tened to their songs and gui­tar per­for­mances, I was eager to join them and couldn’t stop beat­ing out a rhythm. That was why I start­ed play­ing the drums. The drum was the first instru­ment in which I felt an inter­est in my life. My par­ents’ music peers often vis­it­ed us to play togeth­er. I was glued to the pow­er­ful and dynam­ic per­for­mances by the drum­mers. At age 2, I was play­ing the drums as if I were play­ing with toys. At age 4, I start­ed per­form­ing at con­certs. At age 5, my fam­i­ly band “Kaneaiy­oyoka” was formed by my par­ents. We have released 2 self-pro­duced CD albums so far. Not only the drums, I also play the key­board and per­form as a vocal­ist. I com­pose lyrics and music as well.

My favorite drum­mers are John Bon­ham, Chris Cole­man and Ben­ny Greb.

As a drum­mer, I enjoy being groove, tones and try to sup­port vocal­ists care­ful­ly. My dream is to be the best drum­mer in the world. In addi­tion, I want to be an artist who can do any­thing: play­ing all instru­ments, record­ing music, mix­ing the sound and design­ing the CD album jack­ets. As I am aim­ing at over­seas activ­i­ties, I am study­ing Eng­lish con­ver­sa­tion. I want to become friends with peo­ple all over the world through my musi­cal activ­i­ties!

As HLAG [Hit Like a Girl] is a con­test only for women, I def­i­nite­ly can’t lose it. I want to be the best female drum­mer. Thanks to the great sup­port by my fam­i­ly and fans, I can con­tin­ue the prac­tice and oth­er musi­cal activ­i­ties. I want to show the best result of my dai­ly prac­tice and come out on top of this con­test!

Yoyoka’s glee­ful per­for­mance of John Bon­ham’s drum sec­tion from Zep­pelin’s “Good Times Bad Times” served as her entry for the 2018 edi­tion of the Hit Like a Girl con­test. She was­n’t amongst the win­ners this year alas. But she undoubt­ed­ly has time–plenty of time–to take anoth­er shot.

Below, you can watch Robert Plan­t’s reac­tion upon view­ing Yoyoka at work. “I know where she could get a good job.” “That’s amaz­ing, isn’t it?”

h/t Mike S.

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 and BlueSky.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Makes John Bon­ham Such a Good Drum­mer? A New Video Essay Breaks Down His Inim­itable Style

John Bonham’s Iso­lat­ed Drum Track For Led Zeppelin’s ‘Fool in the Rain’

Decon­struct­ing Led Zeppelin’s Clas­sic Song ‘Ram­ble On’ Track by Track: Gui­tars, Bass, Drums & Vocals

Decon­struct­ing Led Zeppelin’s Clas­sic Song ‘Ram­ble On’ Track by Track: Gui­tars, Bass, Drums & Vocals

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Experience the Mystical Music of Hildegard Von Bingen: The First Known Composer in History (1098 – 1179)

The Ger­man abbess, vision­ary, mys­tic poet, com­pos­er, and heal­er Hilde­gard von Bin­gen “has become a sym­bol to dis­parate groups,” writes Bri­an Wise at WQXR, includ­ing “fem­i­nists and the­olo­gians, musi­col­o­gists and new-age med­i­cine prac­ti­tion­ers. Her chants have been set to tech­no rhythms; her writ­ings on nutri­tion have yield­ed count­less cook­books (even though she nev­er left behind a sin­gle recipe.)” She did leave behind an astound­ing body of work that has made her improb­a­bly pop­u­lar for a 12th cen­tu­ry nun, with a live­ly pres­ence on Face­book and her own Twit­ter account, @MysticHildy (“very into tech­nol­o­gy, love to trav­el”).

Her fame rests not only on the beau­ty of her work, but on her extra­or­di­nary life sto­ry and the fact that she is the first com­pos­er to whose work we can put a name. She was born in 1098 in Berm­er­sheim, the tenth child of a noble fam­i­ly. It being the cus­tom then to ded­i­cate a tenth child (a “tithe”) to the church, Hilde­gard was sent to the Monastery of Saint Dis­i­bo­den­berg to become a Bene­dic­tine nun under the tute­lage of Jut­ta, a high­ly-respect­ed anchoress.

“After Jutta’s death,” notes Ford­ham University’s source­book, “when Hilde­gard was 38 years of age, she was elect­ed the head of the bud­ding con­vent liv­ing with­in cramped walls of the anchor­age.”

Through­out her life, Hilde­gard had expe­ri­enced visions, begin­ning at the age of 3. (Oliv­er Sacks attrib­uted these to migraines). At age 42, she had a pow­er­ful expe­ri­ence that rad­i­cal­ly changed her life. She described this moment in her writ­ings:

And it came to pass … when I was 42 years and 7 months old, that the heav­ens were opened and a blind­ing light of excep­tion­al bril­liance flowed through my entire brain. And so it kin­dled my whole heart and breast like a flame, not burn­ing but warm­ing… and sud­den­ly I under­stood of the mean­ing of expo­si­tions of the books…

Over­whelmed, and fear­ful of writ­ing down her visions “because of doubt and a low opin­ion of myself and because of diverse say­ings of men,” she nonethe­less found encour­age­ment from lead­ers in the church to write and cir­cu­late her the­o­log­i­cal work: “With papal impri­matur, Hilde­gard was able to fin­ish her first vision­ary work Scivias (“Know the Ways of the Lord”) and her fame began to spread through Ger­many.” Soon after, she relo­cat­ed her con­vent to Bin­gen, and began an incred­i­bly pro­duc­tive peri­od in the last few decades of her life.

All told, she turned out an “extra­or­di­nary array of cre­ative trea­sures,” writes Wise: a dra­ma in verse, “more than 70 musi­cal works, med­ical texts filled with 2,000 reme­dies, writ­ings pre­sent­ing fem­i­nine arche­types for the divine.” Although she held to ortho­dox doc­trine, oppos­ing the Cathars, for exam­ple, and oth­er “schis­mat­ics,” she was a mys­tic whose ideas far exceed­ed the cramped the­o­log­i­cal con­fines of so many male coun­ter­parts. “Hildegard’s visions caused her to see humans as ‘liv­ing sparks’ of God’s love, com­ing from God as day­light comes from the sun,” writes Fr. Don Miller. “This uni­ty was not appar­ent to many of her con­tem­po­raries.”

Her tran­scen­dent sight did not blind her to the diverse beau­ty of the nat­ur­al world. “She not only had faith,” says Ger­man direc­tor and actress Mar­garethe Von Trot­ta, who made a 2010 biopic about Hilde­gard, “but she was so curi­ous. Today, per­haps she would have been a sci­en­tist because she did so much research on heal­ing peo­ple, on plants and ani­mals.” Hildegard’s tal­ent, intel­lect, and force­ful per­son­al­i­ty made her a for­mi­da­ble per­son, “the only known female fig­ure of her time,” writes Music Acad­e­my Online, “who achieved such intel­lec­tu­al stature and whose con­tri­bu­tions have had last­ing impact.” The revived inter­est in her music coin­cid­ed with “the ‘new age’ chant craze in the mid-1990s,” but Hildegard’s work dif­fers marked­ly from medieval chant writ­ten for male voic­es.

Vary­ing from “high­ly syl­lab­ic to dra­mat­ic melis­mas (swirling melodies on a sin­gle open syl­la­ble,” Melanie Spiller explains, “her music is quite dis­tinc­tive and eas­i­ly rec­og­niz­able, with unsu­al ele­ments for the time, includ­ing exceed­ing an octave by a fourth or fifth, and large and fre­quent leaps.” Her music also func­tioned as “a vehi­cle for her own mys­ti­cal expe­ri­ence,” and it con­tin­ues to move listeners—of faith and no faith—who hear in her song cel­e­bra­tions of the divine­ly fem­i­nine and the won­ders of the nat­ur­al world.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1200 Years of Women Com­posers: A Free 78-Hour Music Playlist That Takes You From Medieval Times to Now

A YouTube Chan­nel Com­plete­ly Devot­ed to Medieval Sacred Music: Hear Gre­go­ri­an Chant, Byzan­tine Chant & More

Mashup Weaves Togeth­er 57 Famous Clas­si­cal Pieces by 33 Com­posers: From Bach to Wag­n­er

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

Hear David Lynch Read from His New Memoir Room to Dream, and Browse His New Online T‑Shirt Store

We think of David Lynch as a film­mak­er, and right­ly so, but the direc­tor of Eraser­headBlue Vel­vet, and Mul­hol­land Dri­ve has long kept a more diverse cre­ative port­fo­lio. He began as a painter, study­ing at the Penn­syl­va­nia Acad­e­my of the Fine Arts, and has also tried his hand at pho­tog­ra­phymusic, and com­ic strips. More recent­ly, writes the AV Club’s Ran­dall Col­burn, “Lynch has also released his own line of cof­fee, col­lab­o­rat­ed on Twin Peaks-themed beer and skate­boards, and cre­at­ed his own fes­ti­val. His lat­est endeav­or? T‑shirts, which is wild because it’s hard to imag­ine the ever-dap­per film­mak­er ever wear­ing one.”

Per­haps a line of Lynch-approved tra­di­tion­al white shirts, made to be but­toned all the way up even with­out a tie, remains in devel­op­ment. But for now, fans choose from the 57 T‑shirts designs now avail­able at Stu­dio: David Lynch’s Ama­zon store. All suit­able for wear­ing to your local revival house, they include “Turkey Cheese Head,” “Cow­boy,” “Small Dog,”“Small Bark­ing Dog,“and “You Got­ta Be Kid­din’ Me.” What kind of life, now solid­ly into its eighth decade, has both enabled and dri­ven Lynch to make not just so many things, but so many Lynchi­an things? Per­haps we can find a few answers with­in the near­ly 600 pages of Room to Dream, Lynch’s new mem­oir.

“Fans who share Lynch’s plea­sure in mys­tery will approach this book anx­ious­ly, hop­ing that his secrets may some­how be both revealed and sus­tained,” writes the Wash­ing­ton Post’s Charles Arrow­smith of the book, an excerpt of which you can hear read by Lynch him­self above. (He begins by say­ing “I’m going to tell you a sto­ry about my grand­par­ents” and ends with the image of his young self vom­it­ing into a hel­met he’d brought to school for show-and-tell.) And those who fear that the con­ven­tion­al­i­ty of the mem­oir form might flat­ten out Lynch’s idio­syn­crasies can rest assured that “in telling his life sto­ry, Lynch demon­strates the same dis­re­gard for causal­i­ty and tonal con­sis­ten­cy that marks his films.”

Despite includ­ing not just Lynch’s per­spec­tive but the per­spec­tives of many oth­ers (“sur­pris­ing­ly can­did ex-wives, fam­i­ly mem­bers, actors, agents, musi­cians, and col­leagues in var­i­ous fields,” pro­claims the jack­et copy), “Room to Dream pulls off a neat trick in draw­ing back a cur­tain and reveal­ing rel­a­tive­ly lit­tle. Despite the book’s heft, there’s not much to expli­cate the mys­ter­ies of Lynch’s work. But then, for him, the mystery’s the thing. To explain would be to destroy. What we get instead is insight into his cre­ative process.” As ded­i­cat­ed Lynch enthu­si­asts under­stand, the cre­ative process, which through­out his career has led him not to answers but ever more strange­ly com­pelling ques­tions, is every­thing.

Note: When Room to Dream comes out on June 19th, you can down­load the audio­book ver­sion, which Lynch helps nar­rate, for free if you sign up for Audi­ble’s free tri­al pro­gram. We have details on that pro­gram here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Paint­ings of Filmmaker/Visual Artist David Lynch

David Lynch’s Pho­tographs of Old Fac­to­ries

Dis­cov­er David Lynch’s Bizarre & Min­i­mal­ist Com­ic Strip, The Angri­est Dog in the World (1983–1992)

What Makes a David Lynch Film Lynchi­an: A Video Essay

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.

Rapping, Deconstructed: How Some of the Greatest Rappers Make Their Rhymes

If high school Eng­lish teach­ers can chal­lenge skep­ti­cal stu­dents to cul­ti­vate an appre­ci­a­tion for Shake­speare and poet­ry with rap-based assign­ments, might the reverse also hold true?

Many afi­ciona­dos of high cul­ture turn up their noses at rap, believ­ing it to be a sim­ple form, requir­ing more brag­gado­cio than tal­ent.

Estelle Caswell, rap fan and pro­duc­er of Vox’s Ear­worm series, may get them to rethink that posi­tion with the above video, show­cas­ing how great rap­pers assem­ble rhymes.

Caswell uses visu­al graph­ing to explain the progress from the A‑A-B‑B scheme of ear­ly rap­per Kur­tis Blow’s “The Breaks” (1980) to the com­plex and sur­pris­ing holorimes of her per­son­al favorite, MF DOOM.

To appre­ci­ate her visu­al break­downs, you must under­stand that raps can be scored like tra­di­tion­al music. Here the bar reigns supreme—each bar con­sist­ing of four beats. The fur­ther out we go from rap’s ori­gins, the more its prac­ti­tion­ers play with place­ment and rhyme.

Above are some lyrics from Eric B. and Rakim’s 1986 cut, “Eric B. Is Pres­i­dent,” fea­tur­ing inter­nal rhymes high­light­ed in yel­low and mul­ti-syl­lab­ic rhymes picked out in pink. You’ll also find them escap­ing the tyran­ny of the bar line, con­tin­u­ing the rhyme on the first beat of the next bar.

Caswell is so intent on exam­in­ing the late Noto­ri­ous B.I.G.‘s “Hyp­no­tize,” that she over­looks a rather siz­able ele­phant in the room, the misog­y­nis­tic POV behind those en and oo sounds.

Short­ly there­after, Mos Def ups both the rhyming game and the fem­i­nist account­abil­i­ty, by stuff­ing his com­po­si­tions with mul­ti-syl­lab­ic words and phras­es that sort of rhyme—cinnamon, Entenmann’s, adren­a­line and “sent to them.”

Mean­while, Andre 3000 is play­ing with vary­ing the accent of his rhymes, rel­a­tive to the beat and bar, rather than com­mit­ting to a pre­dictable thud­ding.

Eminem, who has the dis­tinc­tion of pen­ning the first rap to win an Acad­e­my Award, places a pre­mi­um on nar­ra­tive, and refus­es to con­cede that noth­ing rhymes with orange.

Cur­rent chart top­per Kendrick Lamar’s gal­lop­ing “Rig­amor­tis” estab­lish­es a musi­cal motif that Caswell com­pares to Beethoven’s famous fifth.

MF DOOM kicks the ball fur­ther down the court with dou­ble enten­dres, word­play and a will­ing­ness to steer clear of the expect­ed “b word.”

Lis­ten to a Spo­ti­fy playlist of the songs ref­er­enced in the video.

Delve fur­ther into the sub­ject by read­ing the thoughts of rap ana­lyst Mar­tin Con­nor, whom Caswell cred­its as a sort of bea­con.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Hip Hop Music Visu­al­ized on a Turntable Cir­cuit Dia­gram: Fea­tures 700 Artists, from DJ Kool Herc to Kanye West

Found­ing Fathers, A Doc­u­men­tary Nar­rat­ed By Pub­lic Enemy’s Chuck D, Presents the True His­to­ry of Hip Hop

150 Songs from 100+ Rap­pers Get Art­ful­ly Woven into One Great Mashup: Watch the “40 Years of Hip Hop”

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Hear the First Track From John Coltrane’s Lost Album: The Newly-Discovered 1963 Collection Will Get Officially Released Later This Month

Saint­hood and incal­cu­la­ble influ­ence aside, John Coltrane didn’t always break new ground in the stu­dio. “If you heard the John Coltrane Quar­tet live in the ear­ly-to-mid 1960s,” writes Gio­van­ni Rus­sonel­lo at The New York Times—refer­ring to the clas­sic line­up of bassist Jim­my Gar­ri­son, drum­mer Elvin Jones, and pianist McCoy Tyner—you heard “a ground-shak­ing band, an almost phys­i­cal being, bear­ing a promise that seemed to reach far beyond music.”

Pri­or to 1965’s super­nat­ur­al A Love Supreme, how­ev­er, few of the eight albums the clas­sic quar­tet record­ed for Impulse! Records cap­tured “the band’s live eth­ic.” The “fun­ny prob­lem” Coltrane had was his com­mer­cial via­bil­i­ty, which made the label eschew record­ing the quartet’s con­sid­er­ably exper­i­men­tal ten­den­cies in favor of “con­cept-dri­ven and con­sumer-friend­ly projects.” Now, Rus­sonel­lo writes, “that sto­ry needs a major foot­note.” A lost Coltrane album from 1963 has emerged, dis­cov­ered by the fam­i­ly of his first wife, Naima.

Coltrane his­to­ry may be rewrit­ten on June 29th when the album, Both Direc­tions at Once, gets its release. We have a glimpse at what fans have been miss­ing for the past 55 years in the soar­ing first track, “Unti­tled Orig­i­nal 11383,” above, a “brisk minor blues.” The album’s remain­ing trea­sures may jus­ti­fy Son­ny Rollin’s com­par­i­son of this dis­cov­ery to “find­ing a new room in the Great Pyra­mid.” In addi­tion to two pre­vi­ous­ly unheard orig­i­nal com­po­si­tions, the album fea­tures some very intrigu­ing record­ings.

The final track, a stu­dio ver­sion of “One Up, One Down,” was “pre­vi­ous­ly heard only on a boot­leg record­ing made at the Bird­land jazz club,” notes Fact Mag­a­zine. “One of Coltrane’s most famous com­po­si­tions, ‘Impres­sions,’ is fea­tured in a trio with­out piano,” and the album also con­tains the first record­ing of “Nature Boy,” which lat­er appeared on The John Coltrane Quar­tet Plays. (See Fact Mag for a full track­list­ing of the stan­dard and two-CD deluxe edi­tions of the album.) This col­lec­tion comes very close “to the breadth of what Coltrane and his asso­ciates were deliv­er­ing onstage,” claims Rus­sonel­lo.

It may also rep­re­sent a pre­scient­ly tran­si­tion­al doc­u­ment, as its title sug­gests. As Coltrane’s son Ravi puts it, “you do get a sense of John with one foot in the past and one foot head­ed toward his future.” After the album’s 1963 record­ing at the Rudy Van Gelder Stu­dio in New Jer­sey, the mas­ter tapes some­how went miss­ing, but Coltrane had tak­en home the ref­er­ence tape that only recent­ly sur­faced. Both Direc­tions at Once fills in a gap between the “mar­velous” albums Coltrane and Cres­cent, show­ing off the band’s dynamism in the peri­od between “spring 1962 to spring 1964” and let­ting them cut loose while stay­ing with­in famil­iar har­mon­ic forms.

Coltrane’s avant-garde bril­liance may have changed the course of mod­ern music, but some of his most for­ward-think­ing exper­i­ments can be dif­fi­cult lis­ten­ing for those unini­ti­at­ed in the rites of modal free jazz. Accord­ing to pianist and schol­ar Lewis Porter, com­ment­ing on an advance copy of Both Direc­tions at Once, the redis­cov­ered album, con­tains “a lot of that musi­cal meat” that Coltrane’s quar­tet deliv­ered to live audi­ences in the ear­ly-to-mid-six­ties, “but in a con­text that will be more acces­si­ble to a lot of lis­ten­ers.”

Maybe more con­ser­v­a­tive lis­ten­ers, how­ev­er, can find in the lost album a key that unlocks the incred­i­ble mys­ter­ies of lat­er record­ings like Ascen­sion, Med­i­ta­tions, and the wild, posthu­mous­ly-released Inter­stel­lar Space.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream the “Com­plete” John Coltrane Playlist: A 94-Hour Jour­ney Through 700+ Trans­for­ma­tive Tracks

John Coltrane Draws a Mys­te­ri­ous Dia­gram Illus­trat­ing the Math­e­mat­i­cal & Mys­ti­cal Qual­i­ties of Music

John Coltrane’s Hand­writ­ten Out­line for His Mas­ter­piece A Love Supreme (1964)

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

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