The Causes & Prevalence of Suicide Explained by Two Videos from Alain de Botton’s School of Life

“Sui­cide,” writes Albert Camus in “The Myth of Sisy­phus,” has nev­er been dealt with except as a social phe­nom­e­non.” And yet, as Alain de Bot­ton argues in his School of Life video above, at least when it comes to media and gov­ern­ment pri­or­i­ties, con­tem­po­rary soci­eties pre­fer to hard­ly deal with the prob­lem at all, even though it claims the lives of some 800,000 peo­ple every year. “It remains entire­ly strange,” says De Bot­ton, “that through the media we should hear so much about killers and so lit­tle about those who take their own lives.”

Giv­en that so much mass media seems to spe­cial­ize in pro­duc­ing a fear of oth­ers, per­haps this is not so strange after all. How­ev­er, when it comes to the allo­ca­tion of gov­ern­ment resources, most “in the wealthy nations tend over­whelm­ing­ly to direct their efforts to deal­ing with pover­ty, ill­ness, and aging,” and devote lit­tle to the prob­lem of sui­cide. This may be due to social stig­ma. “Sui­cide is the supreme reminder of our intense psy­cho­log­i­cal vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty,” and in high­ly reli­gious soci­eties, like the Unit­ed States, it car­ries an added stigma­ti­za­tion as a “sin.”

Nonethe­less, “giv­en that more peo­ple die by sui­cide than are col­lec­tive­ly mur­dered, die in traf­fic acci­dents, or are killed by ani­mals,” it should stand to rea­son that we would expend more effort on find­ing out why. Per­haps over and above phi­los­o­phy and the social sci­ences, De Bot­ton argues that lit­er­a­ture alerts us to the impor­tance of sev­er­al qual­i­ties that make our lives mat­ter, includ­ing “love, self accep­tance, mean­ing, hope, sta­tus, pride, for­give­ness.” Such intan­gi­bles have no price or val­ue in the com­pet­i­tive mar­ket­places that increas­ing­ly dom­i­nate our lives.

The triv­i­al­iza­tion of psy­cho­log­i­cal needs leads to anoth­er com­mon fea­ture of suicide—the “ele­ment of sur­prise.” The sui­cide of those we know, or thought we knew, near­ly always comes as a shock, which De Bot­ton takes as “evi­dence of an unwit­ting neglect of one anoth­er (and of our­selves).” It does not serve us at all to live in denial of suf­fer­ing or push despair to the mar­gins of thought. “We should always be mind­ful,” Arthur Schopen­hauer wrote in 1818, “of the fact that no man is ever very far from the state in which he would read­i­ly want to seize a sword or poi­son in order to bring his exis­tence to an end.”

Schopenhauer’s grim uni­ver­sal­iz­ing state­ment, how­ev­er, does not accord with the vast dif­fer­ences in sui­cide rates across soci­eties. Cer­tain coun­tries, like Kuwait, have rates close to zero, or 0.1 in 100,000. By con­trast, Chi­na has the high­est rate of all, at 25.6 in 100,000. One sig­nif­i­cant dif­fer­ence, De Bot­ton argues, has to do with the “inter­pre­ta­tion and accep­tance of dif­fi­cul­ty,” includ­ing “a greater accep­tance of fail­ure, a high­er role for for­give­ness,” and “a sta­tus sys­tem that hon­ors intrin­sic val­ue over achieve­ment.”

The dif­fer­ence in sui­cide rates between nations does not have any­thing to do, how­ev­er, with wealth. “One of the most sur­pris­ing aspects of sui­cide,” De Bot­ton observes in the video above, is that rates tend to rise “marked­ly the rich­er and more devel­oped a soci­ety becomes,” a phe­nom­e­non that might appear to “negate the whole pur­pose of eco­nom­ic growth”—that is, if we assume the pur­pose is the max­i­miza­tion of human well-being. The sui­cide rate of an “unde­vel­oped coun­try like the Demo­c­ra­t­ic Repub­lic of the Con­go,” he notes, “is a frac­tion of the rate of a devel­oped coun­try like South Korea.”

De Bot­ton does not address the prob­lem of inequal­i­ty with­in wealthy soci­eties. The Unit­ed States, for exam­ple, the wealth­i­est coun­try in record­ed his­to­ry, also has the great­est degree of eco­nom­ic inequal­i­ty in his­to­ry. Here, sui­cide rates have risen an aston­ish­ing 25% over­all and over 30% in half of the states since 1999. De Botton’s cul­tur­al expla­na­tion for wide­ly vary­ing sui­cide rates between dif­fer­ent kinds of soci­eties may help us under­stand that alarm­ing increase.

Para­phras­ing the work of soci­ol­o­gist Emile Durkheim, he tells us that “the cru­cial fac­tor behind people’s deci­sion to end their lives is not real­ly wealth or pover­ty…. It’s the extent to which the sur­round­ing cul­ture ascribes respon­si­bil­i­ty for fail­ure to indi­vid­u­als” rather than to exter­nal fac­tors beyond our con­trol. Ide­olo­gies of indi­vid­u­al­ism and mer­i­toc­ra­cy cre­ate gross­ly exag­ger­at­ed beliefs about our abil­i­ty to influ­ence events in our favor, and gross­ly exag­ger­ate the shame and stig­ma heaped upon us when we can­not do so.

This makes high-pro­file celebri­ty sui­cides seem to us the ulti­mate conun­drum, since such peo­ple appear, at least super­fi­cial­ly, to have it “all”: wealth, pow­er, tal­ent, sta­tus, and acclaim. But the celebri­ty cul­ture that ele­vates some peo­ple beyond the reach of ordi­nary mor­tals can also be pro­found­ly iso­lat­ing, cre­at­ing illu­sions of hap­pi­ness rather than gen­uine ful­fill­ment. We can nev­er tru­ly know what pri­vate griefs and per­son­al feel­ings of fail­ure and sor­row oth­er peo­ple live with. Tend­ing to our emo­tion­al needs, in spite of soci­etal pres­sures and nar­ra­tives, is crit­i­cal for sui­cide pre­ven­tion and can great­ly deep­en our care and com­pas­sion for our­selves and those around us.

Sui­cide is one of the top 10 caus­es of death in the U.S. right now. Call 1–800-273-TALK (8255) for help and sup­port.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Depres­sion & Melan­choly: Ani­mat­ed Videos Explain the Cru­cial Dif­fer­ence Between Every­day Sad­ness and Clin­i­cal Depres­sion

A Uni­fied The­o­ry of Men­tal Ill­ness: How Every­thing from Addic­tion to Depres­sion Can Be Explained by the Con­cept of “Cap­ture”

Stephen Fry on Cop­ing with Depres­sion: It’s Rain­ing, But the Sun Will Come Out Again

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

How Dr. Martens’ Boots Are Made

In recent months, we’ve high­light­ed how Dr. Martens, the icon­ic boot mak­er, has tried to rein­vent itself by cre­at­ing more artis­ti­cal­ly inspired boots, some actu­al­ly adorn­ing the art­work of William Blake, Hierony­mus Bosch, and tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese artists. These aren’t your grand­fa­ther’s Doc Martens, to be sure.

But how­ev­er dif­fer­ent Docs may now look on the out­side, they haven’t changed much on the inside. Just watch the video above, which takes you on a tour of “Dr. Martens’ only UK fac­to­ry on Cobbs Lane in Wol­las­ton, Northamp­ton­shire.” The fac­to­ry “employs 50 work­ers that make about 100,000 pairs of boots per year,” all in the com­pa­ny’s tried and true way.…

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:

Doc Martens Now Come Adorned with William Blake’s Art, Thanks to a Part­ner­ship with Tate Britain

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

Doc Martens Boots Now Come Adorned with Tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese Art

 

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Optical Scanning Technology Lets Researchers Recover Lost Indigenous Languages from Old Wax Cylinder Recordings

In an 1878 North Amer­i­can Review descrip­tion of his new inven­tion, the phono­graph, which tran­scribed sound on wax-cov­ered met­al cylin­ders, Thomas Edi­son sug­gest­ed a num­ber of pos­si­ble uses: “Let­ter writ­ing and all kinds of dic­ta­tion with­out the aid of a stenog­ra­ph­er,” “Phono­graph­ic books” for the blind, “the teach­ing of elo­cu­tion,” and, of course, “Repro­duc­tion of music.” He did not, vision­ary though he was, con­ceive of one extra­or­di­nary use to which wax cylin­ders might be put—the recov­ery or recon­struc­tion of extinct and endan­gered indige­nous lan­guages and cul­tures in Cal­i­for­nia.

And yet, 140 years after Edison’s inven­tion, this may be the most cul­tur­al­ly sig­nif­i­cant use of the wax cylin­der to date. “Among the thou­sands of wax cylin­ders” at UC Berkeley’s Phoebe A. Hearst Muse­um of Anthro­pol­o­gy, writes Hyperallergic’s Alli­son Meier, “are songs and spo­ken-word record­ings in 78 indige­nous lan­guages of Cal­i­for­nia. Some of these lan­guages, record­ed between 1900 and 1938, no longer have liv­ing speak­ers.”

Such is the case with Yahi, a lan­guage spo­ken by a man called “Ishi,” who was sup­pos­ed­ly the last sur­viv­ing mem­ber of his cul­ture when anthro­pol­o­gist Alfred Kroe­ber met him in 1911. Kroe­ber record­ed near­ly 6 hours of Ishi’s speech on 148 wax cylin­ders, many of which are now bad­ly degrad­ed.

“The exist­ing ver­sions” of these arti­facts “sound ter­ri­ble,” says Berke­ley lin­guist Andrew Gar­rett in the Nation­al Sci­ence Foun­da­tion video at the top, but through dig­i­tal recon­struc­tion much of this rare audio can be restored. Gar­rett describes the project—supported joint­ly by the NSF and NEH—as a “dig­i­tal repa­tri­a­tion of cul­tur­al her­itage.” Using an opti­cal scan­ning tech­nique, sci­en­tists can recov­er data from these frag­ile mate­ri­als with­out fur­ther dam­ag­ing them. You can see audio preser­va­tion­ist Carl Haber describe the advanced meth­ods above.

The project rep­re­sents a sci­en­tif­ic break­through and also a stark reminder of the geno­cide and humil­i­a­tion of indige­nous peo­ple in the Amer­i­can west. When he was found, “starv­ing, dis­ori­ent­ed and sep­a­rat­ed from his tribe,” writes Jes­si­ca Jimenez at The Dai­ly Cal­i­forn­ian, Ishi was “believed to be the last Yahi man in exis­tence because of the Three Knolls Mas­sacre in 1866, in which the entire Yahi tribe was thought to have been slaugh­tered.” (Accord­ing to anoth­er Berke­ley schol­ar his sto­ry may be more com­pli­cat­ed.) He was “put on dis­play at the muse­um, where out­siders could watch him make arrows and describe aspects of Yahi cul­ture.” He nev­er revealed his name (“Ishi” means “man”) and died of tuber­cu­lo­sis in 1916.

The wax cylin­ders will allow schol­ars to recov­er oth­er lan­guages, sto­ries, and songs from peo­ples destroyed or dec­i­mat­ed by the 19th cen­tu­ry “Indi­an Wars.” Between 1900 and 1940, Kroe­ber and his col­leagues record­ed “Native Cal­i­for­ni­ans from many regions and cul­tures,” the Berke­ley project page explains, “speak­ing and singing; recit­ing his­to­ries, nar­ra­tives and prayers, list­ing names for places and objects among many oth­er things, all in a wide vari­ety of lan­guages. Many of the lan­guages record­ed on the cylin­ders have trans­formed, fall­en out of use, or are no longer spo­ken at all, mak­ing this col­lec­tion a unique and invalu­able resource for lin­guists and con­tem­po­rary com­mu­ni­ty mem­bers hop­ing to learn about or revi­tal­ize lan­guages, or retrieve impor­tant piece of cul­tur­al her­itage.”

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 10,000 of the First Record­ings of Music Ever Made, Cour­tesy of the UCSB Cylin­der Audio Archive

Inter­ac­tive Map Shows the Seizure of Over 1.5 Bil­lion Acres of Native Amer­i­can Land Between 1776 and 1887

1,000+ Haunt­ing & Beau­ti­ful Pho­tos of Native Amer­i­can Peo­ples, Shot by the Ethno­g­ra­ph­er Edward S. Cur­tis (Cir­ca 1905)

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

Visualizing Dante’s Hell: See Maps & Drawings of Dante’s Inferno from the Renaissance Through Today

The light was depart­ing. The brown air drew down
     all the earth’s crea­tures, call­ing them to rest
     from their day-rov­ing, as I, one man alone,

pre­pared myself to face the dou­ble war
     of the jour­ney and the pity, which mem­o­ry
     shall here set down, nor hes­i­tate, nor err.

Read­ing Dante’s Infer­no, and Divine Com­e­dy gen­er­al­ly, can seem a daunt­ing task, what with the book’s wealth of allu­sion to 14th cen­tu­ry Flo­ren­tine pol­i­tics and medieval Catholic the­ol­o­gy. Much depends upon a good trans­la­tion. Maybe it’s fit­ting that the proverb about trans­la­tors as trai­tors comes from Ital­ian. The first Dante that came my way—the unabridged Car­lyle-Okey-Wick­steed Eng­lish translation—renders the poet’s terza rima in lead­en prose, which may well be a lit­er­ary betray­al.

Gone is the rhyme scheme, self-con­tained stan­zas, and poet­ic com­pres­sion, replaced by wordi­ness, anti­quat­ed dic­tion, and need­less den­si­ty. I labored through the text and did not much enjoy it. I’m far from an expert by any stretch, but was much relieved to lat­er dis­cov­er John Ciardi’s more faith­ful Eng­lish ren­der­ing, which imme­di­ate­ly impress­es upon the sens­es and the mem­o­ry, as in the descrip­tion above in the first stan­zas of Can­to II.

The sole advan­tage, per­haps, of the trans­la­tion I first encoun­tered lies in its use of illus­tra­tions, maps, and dia­grams. While read­ers can fol­low the poem’s vivid action with­out visu­al aids, these lend to the text a kind of imag­i­na­tive mate­ri­al­i­ty: say­ing yes, of course, this is a real place—see, it’s right here! We can sus­pend our dis­be­lief, per­haps, in Catholic doc­trine and, dou­bly, in Dante’s weird­ly offi­cious, com­i­cal­ly bureau­crat­ic, scheme of hell.

Indeed, read­ers of Dante have been inspired to map his Infer­no for almost as long as they have been inspired to trans­late it into oth­er languages—and we might con­sid­er these maps more-or-less-faith­ful visu­al trans­la­tions of the Infer­no’s descrip­tions. One of the first maps of Dante’s hell (top) appeared in San­dro Botticelli’s series of nine­ty illus­tra­tions, which the Renais­sance great and fel­low Flo­ren­tine made on com­mis­sion for Loren­zo de’Medici in the 1480s and 90s.

Botticelli’s “Chart of Hell,” writes Deb­o­rah Park­er, “has long been laud­ed as one of the most com­pelling visu­al rep­re­sen­ta­tions… a panop­tic dis­play of the descent made by Dante and Vir­gil through the ‘abysmal val­ley of pain.’” Below it, we see one of Anto­nio Manetti’s 1506 wood­cut illus­tra­tions, a series of cross-sec­tions and detailed views. Maps con­tin­ued to pro­lif­er­ate: see print­mak­er Anto­nio Maretti’s 1529 dia­gram fur­ther up, Joannes Stradanus’ 1587 ver­sion, above, and, below, a 1612 illus­tra­tion below by Jacques Cal­lot.

Dante’s hell lends itself to any num­ber of visu­al treat­ments, from the pure­ly schemat­ic to the broad­ly imag­i­na­tive and inter­pre­tive. Michelan­ge­lo Caetani’s 1855 cross-sec­tion chart, below, lacks the illus­tra­tive detail of oth­er maps, but its use of col­or and high­ly orga­nized label­ing sys­tem makes it far more leg­i­ble that Callot’s beau­ti­ful but busy draw­ing above.

Though we are with­in our rights as read­ers to see Dante’s hell as pure­ly metaphor­i­cal, there are his­tor­i­cal rea­sons beyond reli­gious belief for why more lit­er­al maps became pop­u­lar in the 15th cen­tu­ry, “includ­ing,” writes Atlas Obscu­ra, “the gen­er­al pop­u­lar­i­ty of car­tog­ra­phy at the time and the Renais­sance obses­sion with pro­por­tions and mea­sure­ment.”

Even after hun­dreds of years of cul­tur­al shifts and upheavals, the Infer­no and its humor­ous and hor­rif­ic scenes of tor­ture still retain a fas­ci­na­tion for mod­ern read­ers and for illus­tra­tors like Daniel Heald, whose 1994 map, above, while lack­ing Botticelli’s gild­ed bril­liance, presents us with a clear visu­al guide through that per­plex­ing val­ley of pain, which remains—in the right trans­la­tion or, doubt­less, in its orig­i­nal language—a plea­sure for read­ers who are will­ing to descend into its cir­cu­lar depths. Or, short of that, we can take a dig­i­tal train and esca­la­tors into an 8‑bit video game ver­sion.

See more maps of Dante’s Infer­no here, here, and here.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Free Course on Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Artists Illus­trate Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy Through the Ages: Doré, Blake, Bot­ti­cel­li, Mœbius & More

Hear Dante’s Infer­no Read Aloud by Influ­en­tial Poet & Trans­la­tor John Cia­r­di (1954)

Robert Rauschenberg’s 34 Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s Infer­no (1958–60)

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

James Hill Plays Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” on the Ukulele: Watch One Musician Become a Complete Band

James Hill, an award-win­ning ukulele play­er and song­writer from Cana­da, has been called a “ukulele wun­derkind,” and an artist who “gives the ukulele its dig­ni­ty back with­out ever tak­ing him­self too seri­ous­ly.” The video above puts Hill’s lighter side and wun­derkind tal­ents on full dis­play.

Per­form­ing live for a crowd in Cal­i­for­nia, Hill and his “imag­i­nary band” per­form an enchant­i­ng ver­sion of Michael Jack­son’s “Bil­lie Jean.” With just a uke, Hill plays the bass line, per­cus­sion, and piano parts. Put it all togeth­er, and you have a fas­ci­nat­ing one-man ukulele per­for­mance. But wait until you see what he can do with a uke, chop­sticks and comb

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:

George Har­ri­son Explains Why Every­one Should Play the Ukulele

19-Year-Old Russ­ian Gui­tarist Plays an Inge­nious Cov­er of Michael Jackson’s “Bil­lie Jean”

A One-Man Pink Floyd Band Cre­ates Note-Per­fect Cov­ers of “Echoes,” “Com­fort­ably Numb,” “Moth­er” & Oth­er Clas­sics: Watch 19-Year-Old Wun­derkind Ewan Cun­ning­ham in Action

“Back in Black,” “Stairway to Heaven,” “Welcome to the Jungle,” and Other Classic Rock Songs Played on Traditional Japanese Instruments

Name any clas­sic rock band — or maybe any band, peri­od — and you can rest assured that their biggest, most obses­sive fan lives in Japan. Though it pos­sess­es a native musi­cal cul­ture of its own, with a rich his­to­ry and a dis­tinc­tive set of aes­thet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties, that coun­try has also cul­ti­vat­ed great enthu­si­asm for the music of oth­er lands. Just as 21st-cen­tu­ry Japan con­tin­ues to pro­duce mas­ters of such tra­di­tion­al instru­ments as the stringed koto, the bam­boo shakuhachi flute, and the taiko drum, it also con­tin­ues to pro­duce increas­ing­ly all-know­ing, all-col­lect­ing fol­low­ers of bands like AC/DC, Guns N’ Ros­es, and Led Zep­pelin.

Sel­dom have those cur­rents of Japan’s music world had a venue to reli­ably meet — or at least it had­n’t before the advent of NHK Blends. Pro­duced by NHK World, the inter­na­tion­al chan­nel of Japan­ese nation­al broad­cast­er NHK, the show offers per­for­mances of well-known West­ern songs, usu­al­ly rock and pop hits, inter­pret­ed with tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese instru­ments played in tra­di­tion­al set­tings by musi­cians in tra­di­tion­al dress.

Here we’ve embed­ded NHK Blends’ ren­di­tions of “Back in Black,” “Stair­way to Heav­en,” and “Wel­come to the Jun­gle,” and on their videos page you can find many more: Michael Jack­son’s “Smooth Crim­i­nal” and “Beat It,” Toto’s “Africa,” and the Bea­t­les’ “Let It Be.”

Those all rank among NHK Blends’ most pop­u­lar videos, hav­ing racked up hun­dreds of thou­sands and even mil­lions of views. This sug­gests that, no mat­ter how many count­less times we hear these songs on the car radio, at the gym, or while gro­cery-shop­ping, a suf­fi­cient­ly rad­i­cal re-inter­pre­ta­tion can still breathe new life into them. Some per­for­mances pull off extra dimen­sions of cul­tur­al trans­po­si­tion: the NHK Blends ver­sion of “Misir­lou,” for instance, takes a tra­di­tion­al piece of music from the East­ern Mediter­ranean and inter­prets it for the kokyo, a stringed instru­ment that orig­i­nal­ly came to Japan from Chi­na. Or rather, it inter­prets French gui­tarist Jean-Pierre Danel’s inter­pre­ta­tion of “surf gui­tar” king Dick Dale’s famous ver­sion from 1961. Close your eyes and you can very near­ly imag­ine the samu­rai pic­ture Quentin Taran­ti­no some­how has­n’t yet made.

See the full list of songs here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

David Bowie/Nirvana’s “The Man Who Sold The World” Played on the Gayageum, a Kore­an Instru­ment from the 6th Cen­tu­ry

Three Pink Floyd Songs Played on the Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Gayageum: “Com­fort­ably Numb,” “Anoth­er Brick in the Wall” & “Great Gig in the Sky”

Watch Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Voodoo Chile’ Per­formed on a Gayageum, a Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Instru­ment

Ste­vie Ray Vaughan’s Ver­sion of “Lit­tle Wing” Played on Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Instru­ment, the Gayageum

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.

Watch Anthony Bourdain’s Free Show, Raw Craft Where He Visits Craftsmen Making Guitars, Tattoos, Motorcycles & More (RIP)

Why has food become such an object of inter­est in recent years? One pos­si­ble expla­na­tion is that it rep­re­sents one of the last pur­suits still essen­tial­ly untouch­able by dig­i­tal cul­ture: for all you can write about and pho­to­graph food for the inter­net, you can’t actu­al­ly expe­ri­ence it there. Food, in oth­er words, means phys­i­cal­i­ty, dex­ter­i­ty, sen­si­bil­i­ty, and hand-crafts­man­ship in a con­crete, vis­cer­al way that, in the 21st, cen­tu­ry, has come to seem increas­ing­ly scarce. But anoth­er, short­er expla­na­tion sums the phe­nom­e­non up, just as plau­si­bly, in two words: Antho­ny Bour­dain.

Ever since he first entered the pub­lic eye at the end of the 1990s, late chef-writer-trav­el­er-tele­vi­sion host taught a read­ing, and lat­er view­ing pub­lic to appre­ci­ate not just food but all that goes into food: the ingre­di­ents, sure, the intense train­ing and labor, of course, but most of all the many and var­ied cul­tur­al fac­tors that con­verge on a meal. Bour­dain found robust cul­tures every­where, those that devel­oped cart-filled streets of cities across the world to the kitchens of the most unas­sum­ing-look­ing restau­rants and every­where in between. He deeply respect­ed not just those ded­i­cat­ed to the mak­ing and serv­ing of food, but those ded­i­cat­ed to crafts of all kinds.

Bour­dain’s nat­ur­al kin­ship with all crafts­men and craftswomen made him a nat­ur­al choice to car­ry Raw Craft, a web series spon­sored by the Bal­ve­nie, a pop­u­lar-pre­mi­um brand of Scotch whisky. In its four­teen episodes (each of which finds a way to fea­ture a bot­tle of the Bal­ve­nie), Bour­dain goes char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly far and wide to vis­it the stu­dios and work­shops of real peo­ple mak­ing real suits, shoessax­o­phones, drums, gui­tarshand­print­ed books, fur­ni­ture, motor­cy­cles, and “tra­di­tion­al­ly fem­i­nine objects.” That last may break some­what from Bour­dain’s swag­ger­ing, mas­cu­line-if-not-macho image, but as the series’ host he dis­plays a good deal of enthu­si­asm for the sub­ject of each episode, includ­ing the trip to the spon­sor’s own dis­tillery in Dufftown, Scot­land.

Nat­u­ral­ly, Bour­dain can engage on a whole oth­er lev­el in the episodes about food and food-relat­ed objects, such as pas­tries and hot choco­latekitchen knives, and, in the video at the top of the post, cast-iron skil­lets. Ever the par­tic­i­pa­to­ry observ­er, he fin­ish­es that last by prepar­ing steak au poivre with one of the work­shop’s own skil­lets on the flame of its own skil­let-forg­ing fur­nace. He takes it a step fur­ther, or sev­er­al, in the episode with Japan­ese tat­too artist Takashi where, despite “run­ning out of room” on his own much-tat­tooed skin, he com­mis­sions one more: a mag­nif­i­cent blue chrysan­the­mum on his shoul­der, drawn and inked with only the most time-hon­ored tools and tech­niques.

We even, dur­ing one of Bour­dain’s ink-receiv­ing ses­sions with Takashi, glimpse a true crafts­man-to-crafts­man con­ver­sa­tion­al exchange. Bour­dain asks Takashi about some­thing he’s seen all of the many times he’s been on the tat­too­ing table: a junior artist will approach to watch and learn from the way a senior one works. Takashi, who had to go through a minor ordeal just to con­vince his own mas­ter to take him on as an appren­tice, con­firms both the uni­ver­sal­i­ty and the impor­tance of the prac­tice: “If you stop learn­ing, you are pret­ty much done, you know?” Bour­dain, who could only have agreed with the sen­ti­ment, lived it to the very end. “I’d like it to last as long as I do,” he says of his Takashi tat­too — “Which ain’t that long,” he adds, “but long enough, I hope.” But sure­ly no amount of time could ever sat­is­fy a culi­nary, cul­tur­al, and intel­lec­tu­al appetite as prodi­gious as his.

You can watch the com­plete series of Raw Craft videos here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

20 Mes­mer­iz­ing Videos of Japan­ese Arti­sans Cre­at­ing Tra­di­tion­al Hand­i­crafts

Japan­ese Crafts­man Spends His Life Try­ing to Recre­ate a Thou­sand-Year-Old Sword

The Mak­ing of Japan­ese Hand­made Paper: A Short Film Doc­u­ments an 800-Year-Old Tra­di­tion

The Art of Col­lo­type: See a Near Extinct Print­ing Tech­nique, as Lov­ing­ly Prac­ticed by a Japan­ese Mas­ter Crafts­man

Brooklyn–Based Mak­ers of Arti­sanal Water Let You Sip From America’s Great Cul­tur­al Waters

David Rees Presents a Primer on the Arti­sanal Craft of Pen­cil Sharp­en­ing

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.

The Plate Tectonic Evolution of the Earth Over 500 Million Years: Animated Video Takes You from Pangea, to 250 Million Years in the Future

Christo­pher R. Scotese, a geol­o­gist affil­i­at­ed with North­west­ern Uni­ver­si­ty, has cre­at­ed an ani­ma­tion show­ing “the plate tec­ton­ic evo­lu­tion of the Earth from the time of Pangea, 240 mil­lion years ago, to the for­ma­tion of Pangea Prox­i­ma, 250 mil­lion years in the future.” The blurb accom­pa­ny­ing the video on Youtube adds:

The ani­ma­tion starts with the mod­ern world then winds it way back to 240 mil­lion years ago (Tri­as­sic). The ani­ma­tion then revers­es direc­tion, allow­ing us to see how Pangea rift­ed apart to form the mod­ern con­ti­nents and ocean basins. When the ani­ma­tion arrives back at the present-day, it con­tin­ues for anoth­er 250 mil­lion years until the for­ma­tion of the next Pangea, “Pangea Prox­i­ma”.

Accord­ing to an arti­cle pub­lished by NASA back in 2000, Scote­se’s visu­al­iza­tion of the future is some­thing of an edu­cat­ed “guessti­mate.”  “We don’t real­ly know the future, obvi­ous­ly,” he says. “All we can do is make pre­dic­tions of how plate motions will con­tin­ue, what new things might hap­pen, and where it will all end up.” You can see his pre­dic­tions play out above.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Map Shows Where Today’s Coun­tries Would Be Locat­ed on Pangea

Paper Ani­ma­tion Tells Curi­ous Sto­ry of How a Mete­o­rol­o­gist The­o­rized Pan­gaea & Con­ti­nen­tal Drift (1910)

View and Down­load Near­ly 60,000 Maps from the U.S. Geo­log­i­cal Sur­vey (USGS)

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