Enter Digital Archives of the 1960s Fluxus Movement and Explore the Avant-Garde Art of John Cage, Yoko Ono, John Cale, Nam June Paik & More

When it comes to the influ­ence of the arts on every­day life, it can seem like our real­i­ty derives far more from Jeff Koons’ “aug­ment­ed banal­i­ty” than from the Fluxus move­ment’s play­ful exper­i­ments with chance oper­a­tions, con­cep­tu­al rig­or, and impro­visato­ry per­for­mance. But per­haps in a Jeff Koons world, these are pre­cise­ly the qual­i­ties we need. Main­ly based in New York, and “tak­ing shape around 1959,” notes the Uni­ver­si­ty of Iowa’s Fluxus: A Field Guide, “the inter­na­tion­al cohort of artists known as Fluxus exper­i­ment­ed with—or bet­ter yet between—poet­ry, the­ater, music, and the visu­al arts.” Big names like John Cage and Yoko Ono might give the unini­ti­at­ed a sense of what the 60s art move­ment was all about. An “inter­dis­ci­pli­nary aes­thet­ic,” writes Ubuweb, that “brings togeth­er influ­ences as diverse as Zen, sci­ence, and dai­ly life and puts them to poet­ic use.”

Of course, there’s more to it than that… but Fluxus artists keep us won­der­ing what that might be, sug­gest­ing that ordi­nary expe­ri­ence and the stuff of every­day life pro­vide all the mate­r­i­al we need. Japan­ese artist Mieko Shio­mi describes Fluxus as a “prag­mat­ic con­scious­ness” that makes us “see things dif­fer­ent­ly in every­day life after per­form­ing or see­ing Fluxus works.”

The def­i­n­i­tions of Fluxus, you might notice, can begin to sound a bit cir­cu­lar, maybe because they are entire­ly beside the point. George Maci­u­nas, who named and co-found­ed the move­ment, called Fluxus “a way of doing things.” He called it a num­ber of oth­er things as well.

Maci­u­nas’ 1963 “Fluxus Man­i­festo” makes all the right man­i­festo moves, para­phras­ing Tris­tan Tzara’s “Dada Man­i­festo” in its promise to “purge the world of bour­geois sick­ness, ‘intel­lec­tu­al,’ pro­fes­sion­al & com­mer­cial­ized cul­ture,” and so on. He begins with a dic­tio­nary def­i­n­i­tion of Fluxus, involv­ing the symp­toms of dysen­tery, and “the mat­ter just dis­charged.” But the art of Fluxus, aim­ing at a “non art real­i­ty,” seems mild-man­nered by con­trast with this iron­ic blus­ter.

Though it could also be dan­ger­ous at times, Fluxus was always a form of play, often seem­ing­ly con­tent­less, as in Nam June Paik’s “Zen for Film,” a silent, eight-minute film almost entire­ly com­posed of a fuzzy white screen or, in the most noto­ri­ous exam­ple, John Cage’s “musi­cal” com­po­si­tion, 4.33.

Fluxus has become so close­ly asso­ci­at­ed with the musi­cal exper­i­ments and per­for­mance art of Cage and Ono that the cen­tral­i­ty of poet­ry and the visu­al arts to the move­ment can go unre­marked. Maci­u­nas him­self was a high­ly skilled graph­ic artist and an aspir­ing bour­geois pro­pri­etor: he first sought to turn Fluxus into a com­mer­cial cor­po­ra­tion and designed a num­ber of prod­ucts such as chess sets, posters, and a wood­en box filled with assem­blages of small art objects cre­at­ed by his fel­low Fluxus artists. He lat­er admit­ted, “no one was buy­ing it.” Of course, plen­ty of peo­ple did, just not in a way that returned on his siz­able cash invest­ment. See an “unbox­ing” of Maci­u­nas’ Flux Box 2, above and try not to think of Wes Ander­son.

Like their Dada fore­bears, Fluxus artists worked in every medi­um. At the Uni­ver­si­ty of Iowa Library’s Fluxus Dig­i­tal Col­lec­tion, you can find visu­al art by Maci­u­nas and his col­leagues, like Joseph Beuy’s “Fluxus West” post­card, fur­ther up, George Brecht’s Fluxus Games and Puz­zles below it, and A‑Yo’s “Fin­ger Box,” above. At Mono­skop, you’ll find links to more art, film, music, and books by and about artists like Yoko Ono and Fluxus poet Dick Higgens.

At Ubuweb, you’ll find a Flux­film Anthol­o­gy, dat­ing from 1962–1970 and con­tain­ing short films by Paik, Ono, Maci­u­nas, George Brecht, and many more (includ­ing a 1966 short from John Cale). And at Ubuweb: Sound, you’ll find eight cas­settes worth of Fluxus and Fluxus-inspired music, from 1962 to 1992, like the Wolf Vostell “music sculp­ture,” Le Cri / The Cry, from 1990, above. The Fluxus approach may seem puck­ish­ly quaint, even pre­cious, next to the slick hyper­re­al­i­ty of Snapchat, but you will expe­ri­ence the every­day world around you quite dif­fer­ent­ly after immers­ing your­self in the con­cep­tu­al process-world of Fluxus.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Yoko Ono Lets Audi­ence Cut Up Her Clothes in Con­cep­tu­al Art Per­for­mance (Carnegie Hall, 1965)

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

When John Cage & Mar­cel Duchamp Played Chess on a Chess­board That Turned Chess Moves Into Elec­tron­ic Music (1968)

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

Stephen Hawking (RIP) Explains His Revolutionary Theory of Black Holes with the Help of Chalkboard Animations

Stephen Hawk­ing died last night at age of 76. I can think of no bet­ter, brief social media trib­ute than that from the @thetweetofgod: “It’s only been a few hours and Stephen Hawk­ing already math­e­mat­i­cal­ly proved, to My face, that I don’t exist.” Hawk­ing was an athe­ist, but he didn’t claim to have elim­i­nat­ed the idea with pure math­e­mat­ics. But if he had, it would have been bril­liant­ly ele­gant, even—as he  used the phrase in his pop­u­lar 1988 cos­mol­o­gy A Brief His­to­ry of Time—to a the­o­ret­i­cal “mind of God.”

Hawk­ing him­self used the word “ele­gant,” with mod­esty, to describe his dis­cov­ery that “gen­er­al rel­a­tiv­i­ty can be com­bined with quan­tum the­o­ry,” that is, “if one replaces ordi­nary time with so-called imag­i­nary time.” In the best­selling A Brief His­to­ry of Time, he described how one might pos­si­bly rec­on­cile the two. His search for this “Grand Uni­fied The­o­ry of Every­thing,” writes his edi­tor Peter Guz­zar­di, rep­re­sent­ed “the quest for the holy grail of science—one the­o­ry that could unite two sep­a­rate fields that worked indi­vid­u­al­ly but whol­ly inde­pen­dent­ly of each oth­er.”

The physi­cist had to help Guz­zar­di trans­late rar­i­fied con­cepts into read­able prose for book­buy­ers at “drug­stores, super­mar­kets, and air­port shops.” But this is not to say A Brief His­to­ry of Time is an easy read. (In the midst of that process, Hawk­ing also had to learn how to trans­late his own thoughts again, as a tra­cheoto­my end­ed his speech, and he tran­si­tioned to the com­put­er devices we came to know as his only voice.) Most who read Hawking’s book, or just skimmed it, might remem­ber it for its take on the big bang. It’s an aspect of his the­o­ry that piqued the usu­al cre­ation­ist sus­pects, and thus gen­er­at­ed innu­mer­able head­lines.

But it was the oth­er term in Hawking’s sub­ti­tle, “from the Big Bang to Black Holes,” that real­ly occu­pied the cen­tral place in his exten­sive body of less acces­si­ble sci­en­tif­ic work. He wrote his the­sis on the expand­ing uni­verse, but gave his final lec­tures on black holes. The dis­cov­er­ies in Hawk­ing’s cos­mol­o­gy came from his inten­sive focus on black holes, begin­ning in 1970 with his inno­va­tion of the sec­ond law of black hole dynam­ics and con­tin­u­ing through ground­break­ing work in the mid-70s that his for­mer dis­ser­ta­tion advi­sor, emi­nent physi­cist Den­nis Scia­ma, pro­nounced “a new rev­o­lu­tion in our under­stand­ing.”

Hawk­ing con­tin­ued to rev­o­lu­tion­ize the­o­ret­i­cal physics through the study of black holes into the last years of his life. In Jan­u­ary 2016, he pub­lished a paper on arXiv.org called “Soft Hair on Black Holes,” propos­ing “a pos­si­ble solu­tion to his black hole infor­ma­tion para­dox,” as Fiona Mac­Don­ald writes at Sci­ence Alert. Hawking’s final con­tri­bu­tions show that black holes have what he calls “soft hair” around them—or waves of zero-ener­gy par­ti­cles. Con­trary to his pre­vi­ous con­clu­sion that noth­ing can escape from a black hole, Hawk­ing believed that this quan­tum “hair” could store infor­ma­tion pre­vi­ous­ly thought lost for­ev­er.

Hawk­ing fol­lowed up these intrigu­ing, but excep­tion­al­ly dense, find­ings with a much more approach­able text, his talks for the BBC’s Rei­th Lec­tures, which artist Andrew Park illus­trat­ed with the chalk­board draw­ings you see above. The first talk, “Do Black Holes Have No Hair?” walks us briskly through the for­ma­tion of black holes and the big names in black hole sci­ence before mov­ing on to the heavy quan­tum the­o­ry. The sec­ond talk con­tin­ues to sketch its way through the the­o­ry, using strik­ing metaphors and wit­ti­cisms to get the point across.

Hawk­ing’s expla­na­tions of phe­nom­e­na are as pro­found, verg­ing on mys­ti­cal, as they are thor­ough. He doesn’t for­get the human dimen­sion or the emo­tion­al res­o­nance of sci­ence, occa­sion­al­ly sug­gest­ing metaphysical—or meta-psychological—implications. Thanks in part to his work, we first thought of black holes as nihilis­tic voids from which noth­ing could escape. He left us, how­ev­er with a rad­i­cal new view, which he sums up cheer­ful­ly as “if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up, There’s a way out.” Or, even more Zen-like, as he pro­claimed in a 2014 paper, “there are no black holes.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Hawking’s Ph.D. The­sis, “Prop­er­ties of Expand­ing Uni­vers­es,” Now Free to Read/Download Online

Watch A Brief His­to­ry of Time, Errol Mor­ris’ Film About the Life & Work of Stephen Hawk­ing

The Big Ideas of Stephen Hawk­ing Explained with Sim­ple Ani­ma­tion

Free Online Physics Cours­es

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

The Lighter Side of Stephen Hawking: The Physicist Cracks Jokes and a Smile with John Oliver

In our trib­ute to Stephen Hawk­ing ear­li­er today, we dis­cussed the intel­lec­tu­al lega­cy of the depart­ed physi­cist, pay­ing par­tic­u­lar atten­tion to his ground­break­ing work on black holes. The video above is a bit lighter. It just lets you watch Hawk­ing in a comedic exchange with his com­pa­tri­ot John Oliv­er. If I’m not mis­tak­en, around the 3:46 mark, you can even see him crack a smile. Enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Hawk­ing (RIP) Explains His Rev­o­lu­tion­ary The­o­ry of Black Holes with the Help of Chalk­board Ani­ma­tions

Stephen Hawking’s Ph.D. The­sis, “Prop­er­ties of Expand­ing Uni­vers­es,” Now Free to Read/Download Online

Watch A Brief His­to­ry of Time, Errol Mor­ris’ Film About the Life & Work of Stephen Hawk­ing

The Big Ideas of Stephen Hawk­ing Explained with Sim­ple Ani­ma­tion

Free Online Physics Cours­es

 

 

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

Three min­utes with the min­strels / Arthur Collins, S. H. Dud­ley & Ancient City. Edi­son Record. 1899.

Long before vinyl records, cas­sette tapes, CDs and MP3s came along, peo­ple first expe­ri­enced audio record­ings through anoth­er medi­um — through cylin­ders made of tin foil, wax and plas­tic. In recent years, we’ve fea­tured cylin­der record­ings from the 19th cen­tu­ry that allow you to hear the voic­es of Leo Tol­stoy, TchaikovskyOtto von Bis­mar­ck and oth­er tow­er­ing fig­ures. Those record­ings were orig­i­nal­ly record­ed and played on a cylin­der phono­graph invent­ed by Thomas Edi­son in 1877. But those were obvi­ous­ly just a hand­ful of the cylin­der record­ings pro­duced at the begin­ning of the record­ed sound era.

Thanks to the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia-San­ta Bar­bara Cylin­der Audio Archive, you can now down­load or stream a dig­i­tal col­lec­tion of more than 10,000 cylin­der record­ings. “This search­able data­base,” says UCSB, “fea­tures all types of record­ings made from the late 1800s to ear­ly 1900s, includ­ing pop­u­lar songs, vaude­ville acts, clas­si­cal and oper­at­ic music, comedic mono­logues, eth­nic and for­eign record­ings, speech­es and read­ings.” You can also find in the archive a num­ber of “per­son­al record­ings,” or “home wax record­ings,” made by every­day peo­ple at home (as opposed to by record com­pa­nies).

If you go to this page, the record­ings are neat­ly cat­e­go­rized by genre, instru­ment, subject/theme and ethnicity/nation of ori­gin. You can lis­ten, for exam­ple, to record­ings of Jazz, Rag­timeOperas, and Vaude­ville acts. Or hear record­ings fea­tur­ing the Man­dolinGui­tar, Dul­cimer and Ban­jo, among oth­er instru­ments. Plus there are the­mat­i­cal­ly-arranged playlists here.

Host­ed by UCSB (UC San­ta Bar­bara), the archive is sup­port­ed by fund­ing from the Insti­tute of Muse­um and Library Ser­vices, the Gram­my Foun­da­tion, and oth­er donors.

Above, hear a record­ing called “Three min­utes with the min­strels,” by Arthur Collins, released in 1899. Below that is “Alexan­der’s rag­time band med­ley,” fea­tur­ing the ban­jo play­ing of Fred Van Eps, released in 1913.

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.

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!

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in Novem­ber, 2015.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Beer Bot­tle Gets Turned Into a 19th Cen­tu­ry Edi­son Cylin­der and Plays Fine Music

Voic­es from the 19th Cen­tu­ry: Ten­nyson, Glad­stone, Whit­man & Tchaikovsky

Thomas Edison’s Record­ings of Leo Tol­stoy: Hear the Voice of Russia’s Great­est Nov­el­ist

Tchaikovsky’s Voice Cap­tured on an Edi­son Cylin­der (1890)

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Take a Long, Strange Trip and Stream a 346-Hour Chronological Playlist of Live Grateful Dead Performances (1966–1995)

I am not a Dead­head nor an expert on the Grate­ful Dead, by any means. I am an occa­sion­al lis­ten­er and, one might say, occa­sion­al enthu­si­ast of Dead­head cul­ture, in that I find it equal parts mys­ti­fy­ing and fas­ci­nat­ing. I men­tion all these qual­i­fiers ful­ly aware that thou­sands upon thou­sands of ded­i­cat­ed fans have spent life­times lis­ten­ing to, fol­low­ing, and tap­ing the Dead. It is pos­si­ble that those peo­ple have absolute­ly no need of what fol­lows below, a chrono­log­i­cal playlist of 346 hours of live Grate­ful Dead, track­ing the band’s career on stage after stage, from their very begin­nings in 1966 with the tal­ent­ed and trag­ic Pig­pen to their trag­ic end with the death of Jer­ry Gar­cia in 1995.

Com­pletists may scoff and quibble—I can’t tell what’s miss­ing here. I speak for those who kind of get it and kind of don’t—somewhere between peo­ple “who believe that the Dead only ever stum­bled,” as Nick Paum­garten writes at The New York­er, and those who “believe that they only ever soared.” Some­times, maybe a lot of times, the Grate­ful Dead just sound­ed awful, and I dare any­one to prove oth­er­wise. But the same could be said of a lot of great bands, who have all had far less longevi­ty and pro­fi­cien­cy.

And so much depends on the qual­i­ty of the record­ing, to be fair, not a giv­en in most Dead tapes. Then there’s the “copi­ous drug use, an aver­sion to rehearsal, and a gen­uine anar­chic streak.” But when they were in phase and in time, and some­times even when they weren’t, they could be “glo­ri­ous”:

The chance at musi­cal tran­scen­dence amid a ten­den­cy toward some­thing less—was what kept us com­ing back. This argu­ment is a lit­tle like the East Coaster’s on behalf of his weath­er: the nice days are nicer when there are crap­py ones in between.

Writ­ing, he says, as an “apol­o­gist,” Paum­garten claims that the Dead’s ups and downs were large­ly the result of their most tal­ent­ed and “charis­mat­ic fig­ure” Jer­ry Garcia’s errat­ic per­for­mances. “When he had a bad night, you knew it. The oth­ers, when they were off, could sort of hide.” When he was on, his “iri­des­cent gui­tar leads” were trans­port­ing (check out his effort­less coun­try licks at the top in “Big Riv­er”). But his strength waned, and the band lost much of its ener­gy in lat­er years.

Anoth­er Dead fan, Marc Wein­garten, writes at Slate in praise of the “famous­ly var­ied… archi­tec­ture of band leader Jer­ry Garcia’s fre­quent­ly tran­scen­dent gui­tar work,” and blames not Gar­ci­a’s decline for the band’s decline in gen­er­al but, you prob­a­bly guessed it, Dead­head fans, who har­bor an “a pri­ori assump­tion… that Dead shows were always mag­ic and that the mag­ic could be rou­tine­ly sum­moned on a night­ly basis.”

Per­haps unfair. Some­times fans could make a bad show mag­i­cal… ish. And it’s impos­si­ble to imag­ine the Grate­ful Dead with­out their rabid fan­base, who cru­cial­ly allowed the band to grow, expand, and exper­i­ment, always assured of a packed house. But a large part of the Dead’s appeal, to casu­al fans, at least, is that they were only human. Dudes you could total­ly get high with (on the pow­er of music!). That’s right, I’ll say it, take a long strange trip. Come back in 346 hours and tell us what you found.

Stream the “Grate­ful Dead Full Live Chronol­o­gy” playlist above, or find it on Spo­ti­fy here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

11,215 Free Grate­ful Dead Con­cert Record­ings in the Inter­net Archive

When Jazz Leg­end Ornette Cole­man Joined the Grate­ful Dead Onstage for Some Epic Impro­vi­sa­tion­al Jams: Hear a 1993 Record­ing

The Grate­ful Dead’s “Ulti­mate Boot­leg” Now Online & Added to the Library of Con­gress’ Nation­al Record­ing Reg­istry

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

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

We could­n’t pos­si­bly ignore, here at Open Cul­ture, the glo­ry of movie posters: from the film noir era, from Mar­tin Scors­ese’s pre­dictably siz­able col­lec­tion, and even the deeply askew inter­pre­ta­tions seen out­side the the­aters of Ghana. But some­how, the visu­al art-inclined cinephile’s atten­tion returns again and again to one region of the world: East­ern Europe, espe­cial­ly in the Cold War era. Poland’s movie posters have long since accrued a fan­dom around the world, but we should­n’t neglect the equal pro­mo­tion­al won­ders of its neigh­bor­ing Czecho­slo­va­kia.

Or rather, as the even mild­ly geo­graph­i­cal­ly astute will note, the neigh­bor­ing Czech Repub­lic and Slo­va­kia. But in this case, we real­ly do mean Czecho­slo­va­kia, the movie posters fea­tured here hav­ing hung in its movie hous­es between 1930 and 1989.

Ter­ry Posters offers a col­lec­tion of more than 20,000 such works of cap­ti­vat­ing com­mer­cial art to browse (with some avail­able to buy), most of them inter­pret­ing for­eign motion pic­tures for the pre­sumed sen­si­bil­i­ties of the local audi­ence: the films of  auteurs like Alfred Hitch­cock, Aki­ra Kuro­sawaAndrei Tarkovsky (then, of course, a fel­low Sovi­et), Fed­eri­co Felli­ni, and many more besides.

You can also browse Ter­ry’s Czecho­slo­va­kian col­lec­tion by year, by artist, by genre, by actor, and by the film’s coun­try of ori­gin. How­ev­er you explore them, these posters offer a reminder of the way that cin­e­ma cul­ture used to vary most stark­ly from region to region, even when deal­ing with the exact same movies. The “glob­al­iza­tion” process in effect over the past thir­ty years has done much to make seri­ous cinephil­ia pos­si­ble every­where (not least by defeat­ing var­i­ous once-for­mi­da­ble forms of cen­sor­ship and sup­pres­sion) but it may have brought an end to the mul­ti­plic­i­ty and vari­ety of images on dis­play here, all espe­cial­ly vivid pieces of a fad­ed cul­ture — and of a dis­man­tled coun­try. Enter the dig­i­tal archive here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

40,000 Film Posters in a Won­der­ful­ly Eclec­tic Archive: Ital­ian Tarkovsky Posters, Japan­ese Orson Welles, Czech Woody Allen & Much More

10,000 Clas­sic Movie Posters Get­ting Dig­i­tized & Put Online by the Har­ry Ran­som Cen­ter at UT-Austin: Free to Browse & Down­load

50 Film Posters From Poland: From The Empire Strikes Back to Raiders of the Lost Ark

The Strange and Won­der­ful Movie Posters from Ghana: The Matrix, Alien & More

Design­er Reimag­ines Icon­ic Movie Posters With Min­i­mal­ist Designs: Reser­voir Dogs, The Matrix & More

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.

70,000+ Religious Texts Digitized by Princeton Theological Seminary, Letting You Immerse Yourself in the Curious Works of Great World Religions

It is maybe easy for those unfa­mil­iar with the study of reli­gion to reduce the aca­d­e­m­ic dis­ci­pline to a pon­der­ous exercise—self-serious, obsessed with tra­di­tion, ren­dered sus­pect by his­to­ries of vio­lence and high­ly implau­si­ble, con­tra­dic­to­ry claims. But this is a mis­take. For one thing, as schol­ar of reli­gion Wil­fred Cantwell Smith once wrote, “the study of reli­gion is the study of persons”—quite broad­ly, he sug­gests, to study reli­gion is to study human­i­ty: anthro­pol­o­gy, soci­ol­o­gy, his­to­ry, art, lit­er­a­ture, phi­los­o­phy, mythol­o­gy, psy­chol­o­gy, etc. Study­ing reli­gion can also be—contrary to cer­tain stereotypes—a great deal of fun.

In what oth­er schol­ar­ly pur­suit, after all, can one read Regi­nald Scot, Esquire’s 1584 The Dis­cov­er­ie of Witch­craft, L. Aus­tine Waddell’s 1805 The Bud­dhism of Tibet, and J.G. Frazer’s 1894 The Gold­en Bough, inspi­ra­tion for T.S. Eliot’s poet­ry and spir­i­tu­al ances­tor to Joseph Campbell’s pop­u­lar com­par­a­tive work The Hero with a Thou­sand Faces?

But of course, not many an advanced schol­ar would find him or her­self immersed in all of these texts, spe­cial­iz­ing, as they must, in one par­tic­u­lar area. Those of us who are mere­ly curi­ous, how­ev­er, or insa­tiably curi­ous, can do as we please in the the­ol­o­gy library, thumb­ing through what­ev­er strikes our fan­cy.

We may do so from the com­fort of wher­ev­er we can get wifi thanks to Prince­ton The­o­log­i­cal Seminary’s The­o­log­i­cal Com­mons’ project with the Inter­net Archive, which has dig­i­tized over 70,000 texts from the Prince­ton The­o­log­i­cal Sem­i­nary Library, span­ning hun­dreds of years and near­ly every con­ceiv­able reli­gious sub­ject. Yes, there are shelves of hym­nals, hard­ly the kind of thing to gen­er­ate much inter­est among any but the most devout or the most deeply-down-a-schol­ar­ly-rab­bit-hole. But there are also many fas­ci­nat­ing gems like Jacob Grimm’s 1882–88 Teu­ton­ic Mythol­o­gy in four vol­umes (trans­lat­ed into Eng­lish), like E.A. Wal­lis Budge’s beau­ti­ful­ly illus­trat­ed 1911 Osiris and the Egypt­ian Res­ur­rec­tion, and like Wes­leyan min­is­ter Charles Roberts’ 1899 The Zulu-Kafir Lan­guage Sim­pli­fied for Begin­ners.

Like many texts writ­ten by colo­nial observers and Ori­en­tal­ist schol­ars, some of these books may tell us as much or more about their authors than about the pur­port­ed subjects—we encounter in reli­gious schol­ar­ship no more nor less bias than in any oth­er field, though piety is giv­en license to take more overt forms. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, as Cantwell Smith wrote, “the tra­di­tion­al form of West­ern schol­ar­ship in the study of oth­er men’s reli­gion was that of an imper­son­al pre­sen­ta­tion of an ‘it.’” But these out­dat­ed views are them­selves instructive—as part of a process towards a wider human­ist under­stand­ing, “the grad­ual recog­ni­tion of what was always true in prin­ci­ple, but was not always grasped.”

For stu­dents and pro­fes­sion­al schol­ars, the Prince­ton dig­i­tal library is obvi­ous­ly, well… a god­send. For the merely—or insatiably—curious, it is an open invi­ta­tion to explore strange new worlds, so to speak, and to real­ize, again and again, that they’re all the same world, seen in innu­mer­ably dif­fer­ent ways. In this archive, you’ll find pri­ma­ry texts and com­men­taries on Islam, Bud­dhism, Hin­duism, Judaism, Zoroas­tri­an­ism, Greek and Egypt­ian reli­gions, indige­nous faiths of all kinds, and, of course, giv­en the source, plen­ty of Chris­tian­i­ty (like the 1606, pre-King James Bible at the top). “The next step,” writes Cantwell Smith, in mov­ing the study of reli­gion for­ward, “is a dia­logue.… If there is lis­ten­ing and mutu­al­i­ty… the cul­mi­na­tion of this progress is when ‘we all’ are talk­ing with each oth­er about ‘us.’”

Enter the online Prince­ton The­o­log­i­cal Sem­i­nary Library here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Har­vard Launch­es a Free Online Course to Pro­mote Reli­gious Tol­er­ance & Under­stand­ing

Phi­los­o­phy of Reli­gion: A Free Online Course 

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es 

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

IDEO.org’s Free Design Course on Prototyping Starts Today

A quick fyi: IDEO.org, the non-prof­it arm of the famous Cal­i­for­nia design firm IDEO, is launch­ing a free 4‑week course on Pro­to­typ­ing.

As you might recall, we fea­tured sev­er­al months back A Crash Course in Design Think­ing from Stanford’s Design School. If that piqued your inter­est in design and design think­ing, then IDEO.org’s course might hold appeal.

Design Kit: Pro­to­typ­ing will help you learn how to build pro­to­types in “a low-cost and risk-averse way to get your ideas into the hands of the peo­ple you’re try­ing to change.” Run­ning from March 12 through April 17, the course will teach you best prac­tices for pro­to­typ­ing prod­ucts, ser­vices, inter­ac­tions, and envi­ron­ments.

More free cours­es can be found in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

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.

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:

Down­load 20 Free eBooks on Design from O’Reilly Media

Saul Bass’ Advice for Design­ers: Make Some­thing Beau­ti­ful and Don’t Wor­ry About the Mon­ey

Bauhaus, Mod­ernism & Oth­er Design Move­ments Explained by New Ani­mat­ed Video Series

Mil­ton Glaser’s 10 Rules for Life & Work: The Cel­e­brat­ed Design­er Dis­pens­es Wis­dom Gained Over His Long Life & Career

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