150 Courses Starting at Stanford Continuing Studies Next Week: Explore the Catalogue of Campus and Online Courses

Quick fyi: I spend my days at Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies, where we’ve devel­oped a rich line­up of online cours­es for life­long learn­ers, many of which will get start­ed next week. The cours­es aren’t free. But they’re first rate, giv­ing adult students–no mat­ter where they live–the chance to work with ded­i­cat­ed teach­ers and stu­dents.

The cat­a­logue includes a large num­ber of online Cre­ative Writ­ing cours­es, cov­er­ing the Nov­el, the Mem­oir, Cre­ative Non­fic­tion, Trav­el Writ­ing, Poet­ry and more. For the pro­fes­sion­al, the pro­gram offers online busi­ness cours­es in sub­jects like Fun­da­men­tals of Project Man­age­mentVal­ue Invest­ing: An Intro­duc­tionHow to Build Suc­cess­ful Star­tups: Learn Lessons Straight from Sil­i­con Val­ley Entre­pre­neurs and Lead­er­ship by Design: Using Design Think­ing to Trans­form Com­pa­nies and CareersAnd there’s a grow­ing num­ber of online Lib­er­al Arts cours­es too. Take for exam­ple The Geol­o­gy and Wines of Cal­i­for­nia and FranceDraw­ing Inspi­ra­tion: Devel­op­ing a Cre­ative Prac­tice, and The Dai­ly Pho­to­graph: Devel­op­ing Your Cre­ative Intu­ition.

If you live in the San Fran­cis­co Bay Area, check out the larg­er cat­a­logue. Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies has 150 cours­es get­ting start­ed this Win­ter quar­ter (next week), many tak­ing place in Stan­ford’s class­rooms. The two flag­ship cours­es of the quar­ter include: Piv­otal Moments That Shaped the Mod­ern World and The Ethics of Tech­no­log­i­cal Dis­rup­tion: A Con­ver­sa­tion with Sil­i­con Val­ley Lead­ers and Beyond.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: A Crash Course in Design Think­ing from Stanford’s Design School

Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty Launch­es Free Course on Devel­op­ing Apps with iOS 10

How Walk­ing Fos­ters Cre­ativ­i­ty: Stan­ford Researchers Con­firm What Philoso­phers and Writ­ers Have Always Known

Take a Free Course on Dig­i­tal Pho­tog­ra­phy from Stan­ford Prof Marc Lev­oy

How to Start a Start-Up: A Free Course from Y Com­bi­na­tor Taught at Stan­ford

130,000 Pho­tographs by Andy Warhol Are Now Avail­able Online, Cour­tesy of Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty

Philip Glass Finishes His David Bowie Trilogy, Debuting His Lodger Symphony

Some­times I feel
The need to move on
So I pack a bag
And move on
Move on

–David Bowie, “Move On”

We might have been call­ing it the Lake Gene­va Tril­o­gy, giv­en David Bowie’s recu­per­a­tive sojourn in Switzer­land after the empti­ness he felt in L.A. The first album in the Berlin Tril­o­gy, Low, was most­ly record­ed in France, and the last album of the tril­o­gy, Lodger, in Mon­treaux in 1979. But they were almost all writ­ten in, around, and about Berlin, where Bowie found what he was look­ing for—a more rar­i­fied form of isolation—or as he puts it, “vir­tu­al anonymi­ty…. For some rea­son Berlin­ers just didn’t care. Well, not about an Eng­lish rock singer, any­way.”

Bowie’s wife Angela remem­bers that “he chose to live in a sec­tion of the city as bleak, anony­mous, and cul­tur­al­ly lost as pos­si­ble…. He took an apart­ment above an auto parts store and ate at the local workingman’s café. Talk about alien­ation.” The feel­ing per­vades all three albums to dif­fer­ent effect, but Lodger takes things in a far edgi­er, more cacoph­o­nous direc­tion. Removed from Bowie’s time of soak­ing up krautrock and pro­duc­ing his room­mate Iggy Pop’s solo albums, record­ed as his mar­riage dis­solved, it is the sound of jad­ed cul­tur­al and rela­tion­al dis­lo­ca­tion.

“A lot more chaos was intend­ed” on Lodger says Tony Vis­con­ti, and it is on these rocks that com­pos­er Philip Glass foundered for 23 years. In the 90s, he began his own tril­o­gy, of sym­phonies based on the renowned Bowie/Eno/Visconti col­lab­o­ra­tions. Lodger hung him up because it “didn’t inter­est me at all,” he tells the Los Ange­les Times. Despite its wild exper­i­men­tal­ism, he heard “no orig­i­nal ideas on that record.”

Glass grav­i­tat­ed towards the melodies of the first two albums, releas­ing his Low sym­pho­ny in 1993 and the equal­ly inspired Heroes in ’96. Final­ly, just this week, he pre­miered Lodger, with ven­er­a­ble Amer­i­can com­pos­er John Adams con­duct­ing, in Los Ange­les on what would have been Bowie’s birth­day, Jan­u­ary 8th.

Though Glass nev­er shared his thoughts about Lodger with Bowie, he may not have need­ed to. Bowie him­self felt that “Tony [Vis­con­ti] lost heart a lit­tle” dur­ing the record­ing “because it nev­er came togeth­er as eas­i­ly as both Low and “Heroes” had. This had a lot to do with my being dis­tract­ed by per­son­al events in my life,” he says, though “I would still main­tain thought that there are a num­ber of real­ly impor­tant ideas on Lodger.” It is on the ideas that Glass seized. “The writ­ing was remark­able. It was some­one who had cre­at­ed a polit­i­cal lan­guage for them­selves.”

While Glass’s oth­er Bowie sym­phonies drew direct­ly from the albums’ music (the Low sym­pho­ny opens with the cin­e­mat­ic theme from “Sub­ter­raneans”), “What I was going to do on Lodger,” says Glass, “had noth­ing to do with the music that was on the record.” He real­ized that he had been giv­en “a whole piece by a very accom­plished writer and artist who had a vision of the world” in the lyrics. Employ­ing the unique voice of singer Angélique Kid­jo, Glass made what he calls “a song sym­pho­ny” using sev­en of the “texts” (he left off “Look Back in Anger,” “D.J.” and “Red Mon­ey”).

Glass takes these “poems” as he calls them and weaves them into his own musi­cal fab­ric. He’s “uncon­cerned,” writes Ran­dal Roberts at the L.A. Times “with what Bowie would have thought of his method,” but he remem­bers Bowie was most struck in his oth­er sym­phonies by “the parts that didn’t sound very much like the orig­i­nal.” At the top of the post, hear “Warsza­wa” from Glass’s Low sym­pho­ny and lis­ten to his oth­er Bowie-inspired pieces on Spo­ti­fy. The Lodger sym­pho­ny will make its Euro­pean pre­mier at the South­bank Cen­tre in Lon­don in May of this year, and we should hope to see a record­ing released soon.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The “David Bowie Is” Exhi­bi­tion Is Now Avail­able as an Aug­ment­ed Real­i­ty Mobile App That’s Nar­rat­ed by Gary Old­man: For David Bowie’s Birth­day Today

Stream David Bowie’s Com­plete Discog­ra­phy in a 19-Hour Playlist: From His Very First Record­ings to His Last

David Bowie’s Top 100 Books

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

Marie Kondo v. Tsundoku: Competing Japanese Philosophies on Whether to Keep or Discard Unread Books

By now we’ve all heard of Marie Kon­do, the Japan­ese home-orga­ni­za­tion guru whose book The Life-Chang­ing Mag­ic of Tidy­ing Up became an inter­na­tion­al best­seller in 2011. Her advice about how to straight­en up the home, brand­ed the “Kon­Mari” method, has more recent­ly land­ed her that brass ring of ear­ly 21st-cen­tu­ry fame, her own Net­flix series. A few years ago we fea­tured her tips for deal­ing with your piles of read­ing mate­r­i­al, which, like all her advice, are based on dis­card­ing the items that no longer “spark joy” in one’s life. These include “Take your books off the shelves,” “Make sure to touch each one,” and that you’ll nev­er read the books you mean to read “some­time.”

But as a big a fan base as Kon­do now com­mands around the world, not every­one agrees with her meth­ods, espe­cial­ly when she applies them to the book­shelf. “Do NOT lis­ten to Marie Kon­do or Kon­mari in rela­tion to books,” the nov­el­ist Anakana Schofield post­ed to Twit­ter ear­li­er this month. “Fill your apart­ment & world with them. I don’t give a shite if you throw out your knick­ers and Tup­per­ware but the woman is very mis­guid­ed about BOOKS. Every human needs a v exten­sive library not clean, bor­ing shelves.” Fur­ther­more, “the notion that books should spark joy is a LUDICROUS one. I have said it a hun­dred times: Lit­er­a­ture does not exist only to com­fort and pla­cate us. It should dis­turb + per­turb us. Life is dis­turb­ing.”

Wash­ing­ton Post book crit­ic Ron Charles crit­i­cizes Kon­do’s book pol­i­cy from a dif­fer­ent angle. “I have a sin­gle cab­i­net full of chipped mugs, but I have a house full of books — thou­sands of books. To take every sin­gle book into my hands and test it for spark­i­ness would take years. And dur­ing that time, so many more books will pour in.” That phe­nom­e­non will be famil­iar to read­ers of Open Cul­ture, since we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured tsun­doku, a pun­nish Japan­ese com­pound word that means the books that amass unread here and there in one’s home.

Though they might have emerged from the same wider cul­ture, the Kon­Mari method and the con­cept of tsun­doku could hard­ly be more direct­ly opposed. But now that Schofield, Charles, and many oth­ers have voiced their per­spec­tives, the bat­tle lines are drawn: must books spark joy in the moment to earn their keep, or can they be allowed to pile up in the name of poten­tial future use­ful­ness — or at least use­ful dis­tur­bance and per­tur­ba­tion?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Change Your Life! Learn the Japan­ese Art of Declut­ter­ing, Orga­niz­ing & Tidy­ing Things Up

Orga­ni­za­tion Guru Marie Kondo’s Tips for Deal­ing with Your Mas­sive Piles of Unread Books (or What They Call in Japan “Tsun­doku”)

“Tsun­doku,” the Japan­ese Word for the New Books That Pile Up on Our Shelves, Should Enter the Eng­lish Lan­guage

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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 Books That Samuel Beckett Read and Really Liked (1941–1956)

becket list 1

Samuel Beck­ett, Pic, 1″ by Roger Pic. Via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Clad in a black turtle­neck and with a shock of white hair, Samuel Beck­ett was a gaunt, gloomy high priest of mod­ernism. After the 1955 pre­miere of Samuel Beckett’s play Wait­ing for Godot (watch him stage a per­for­mance here), Ken­neth Tynan quipped, ”It has no plot, no cli­max, no denoue­ment; no begin­ning, no mid­dle and no end.” From there, Beckett’s work only got more aus­tere, bleak and despair­ing. His 1969 play Breath, for instance, runs just a minute long and fea­tures just the sound of breath­ing.

An intense­ly pri­vate man, he man­aged to mes­mer­ize the pub­lic even as he turned away from the lime­light. When he won the Nobel Prize in 1969 (after being reject­ed in 1968), his wife Suzanne, fear­ing the onslaught of fame that the award would bring, decried it as a “cat­a­stro­phe.”

A recent­ly pub­lished col­lec­tion of his let­ters from 1941–1956, the peri­od lead­ing up to his inter­na­tion­al suc­cess with his play Wait­ing for Godot, casts some light on at least one cor­ner of the man’s pri­vate life – what books were pil­ing up on his bed stand. Below is an anno­tat­ed list of what he was read­ing dur­ing that time. Not sur­pris­ing­ly, he real­ly dug Albert Camus’s The Stranger. “Try and read it,” he writes. “I think it is impor­tant.” He dis­miss­es Agatha Christie’s Crooked House as “very tired Christie” but prais­es Around the World in 80 Days: “It is live­ly stuff.” But the book he reserves the most praise for is J.D. Salinger’s Catch­er in the Rye. “I liked it very much indeed, more than any­thing for a long time.”

You can see the full list below. It was orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished online by Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty Press in 2011. Books with an aster­isk next to the title can be found in our col­lec­tion of 700 Free eBooks.

Andro­maqueby Jean Racine: “I read Andro­maque again with greater admi­ra­tion than ever and I think more under­stand­ing, at least more under­stand­ing of the chances of the the­atre today.”

Around the World in 80 Days* by Jules Verne: “It is live­ly stuff.”

The Cas­tle by Franz Kaf­ka: “I felt at home, too much so – per­haps that is what stopped me from read­ing on. Case closed there and then.”

The Catch­er in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: “I liked it very much indeed, more than any­thing for a long time.”

Crooked House by Agatha Christie: “very tired Christie”

Effi Briest* by Theodor Fontane: “I read it for the fourth time the oth­er day with the same old tears in the same old places.”

The Hunch­back of Notre Dame* by Vic­tor Hugo

Jour­ney to the End of the Night by Louis-Fer­di­nand Céline

Lautrea­mont and Sade by Mau­rice Blan­chot: “Some excel­lent ideas, or rather start­ing-points for ideas, and a fair bit of ver­biage, to be read quick­ly, not as a trans­la­tor does. What emerges from it though is a tru­ly gigan­tic Sade, jeal­ous of Satan and of his eter­nal tor­ments, and con­fronting nature more than with humankind.”

Man’s Fate by Andre Mal­raux

Mos­qui­toes by William Faulkn­er: “with a pref­ace by Que­neau that would make an ostrich puke”

The Stranger by Albert Camus: “Try and read it, I think it is impor­tant.”

The Temp­ta­tion to Exist by Emil Cio­ran: “Great stuff here and there. Must reread his first.”

La 628-E8* by Octave Mir­beau: “Damned good piece of work.”

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

via Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty Press

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Samuel Beck­ett Directs His Absur­dist Play Wait­ing for Godot (1985)

Mon­ster­piece The­ater Presents Wait­ing for Elmo, Calls BS on Samuel Beck­ett

Rare Audio: Samuel Beck­ett Reads Two Poems From His Nov­el Watt

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of bad­gers and even more pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

An Animated History of Cats: How Over 10,000 Years the Cat Went from Wild Predator to Sofa Sidekick

Dogs sees us as their mas­ters while cats sees us as their slaves. — Anony­mous

The next time your friend’s pet cat sinks its fangs into your wrist, bear in mind that the beast is prob­a­bly still labor­ing under the impres­sion that it’s guard­ing the gra­naries.

Anthro­pol­o­gist Eva-Maria Gei­gl’s ani­mat­ed Ted-Ed Les­son, The His­to­ry of the World Accord­ing to Cats, above, awards spe­cial recog­ni­tion to Unsink­able Sam, a black-and-white ship’s cat who sur­vived three WWII ship­wrecks (on both Axis and Allied sides).

It’s a cute sto­ry, but as far as direct­ing the course of his­to­ry, Felis sil­vestris lybi­ca, a sub­species of wild­cat that can be traced to the Fer­tile Cres­cent some 12,000 years ago, emerges as the true star.

In a Neolith­ic spin of “The Farmer in the Dell,” the troughs and urns in which ancient farm­ers stored sur­plus grain attract­ed mice and rats, who in turn attract­ed these mus­cu­lar, preda­to­ry cats.

They got the job done.

Human and cats’ mutu­al­ly ben­e­fi­cial rela­tion­ship spelled bad news for the rodent pop­u­la­tion, but sur­vival for today’s 600-mil­lion-some domes­tic cats, whose DNA is shock­ing­ly sim­i­lar to that of its pre­his­toric ances­tors.

Hav­ing proved their val­ue to the human pop­u­la­tion in terms of pest con­trol, cats quick­ly found them­selves ele­vat­ed to wel­come com­pan­ions of sol­diers and sailors, cel­e­brat­ed for their abil­i­ty to knock out rope-destroy­ing ver­min, as well as dan­ger­ous ani­mals on the order of snakes and scor­pi­ons.

Thus­ly did cats’ influ­ence spread.

Bastet, the Egypt­ian god­dess of domes­tic­i­ty, wom­en’s secrets, fer­til­i­ty, and child­birth is unmis­tak­ably feline.

Cats draw the char­i­ot of Freya, the Norse god­dess of love.

Their pop­u­lar­i­ty dipped briefly in the Late Mid­dle Ages, when humankind mis­tak­en­ly cred­it­ed cats as the source of the plague. In truth, that scourge was spread by rodents, who ran unchecked after men round­ed up their feline preda­tors for a grue­some slaugh­ter.

Nowa­days, a quick glimpse at Insta­gram is proof enough that cats are back on top.

(Yes, you can haz cheezburg­er with that.)

Dogs may see our ser­vice to them as proof that we are gods, buts cats sure­ly inter­pret the feed­ing and upkeep they receive at human hands as evi­dence they are the ones to be wor­shipped.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Cats Keep Try­ing to Get Into a Japan­ese Art Muse­um … and Keep Get­ting Turned Away: Meet the Thwart­ed Felines, Ken-chan and Go-chan

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

Edward Gorey Talks About His Love Cats & More in the Ani­mat­ed Series, “Goreytelling”

What Hap­pens When a Cat Watch­es Hitchcock’s Psy­cho

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  See her onstage in New York City Jan­u­ary 14 as host of  The­ater of the Apes book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Getty Digital Archive Expands to 135,000 Free Images: Download High Resolution Scans of Paintings, Sculptures, Photographs & Much Much More

J. Paul Get­ty was not a bil­lion­aire known for his gen­eros­i­ty. But since his death, the Get­ty Trust and com­plex of Get­ty muse­ums in L.A. have car­ried forth in a more mag­nan­i­mous spir­it, osten­si­bly adher­ing to val­ues that tran­scend their founder: “ser­vice, phil­an­thropy, teach­ing, and access.”

A col­lec­tion first gath­ered for pri­vate invest­ment and con­sump­tion (some­times under a cloud of scan­dal) has expand­ed into gal­leries that mil­lions pass through every year; a Con­ser­va­tion Insti­tute ded­i­cat­ed to pre­serv­ing the world’s art; and a Research Insti­tute pro­claim­ing a social mis­sion: a devo­tion to expand­ing “our knowl­edge of the his­to­ry of art, of all coun­tries, of all lan­guages,” accord­ing to its direc­tor Thomas Gae­ht­gens, who also says, “a soci­ety with­out art can­not real­ly sur­vive.”

Put anoth­er way, as one of the Getty’s art mar­ket com­peti­tors was once quot­ed as say­ing, “They just want peo­ple to like them.” He didn’t mean it as a com­pli­ment, but if you are an art lover—and not a bil­lion­aire art collector—you may gen­uine­ly appre­ci­ate this qual­i­ty. And you may like them even more now that their open access dig­i­tal col­lec­tions have almost dou­bled to 135,000 high-res­o­lu­tion images since we last checked in with them five years ago.

Like the Get­ty muse­um, it reflects its founder’s tastes in Clas­si­cal, Neo-Clas­si­cal, and Renais­sance art. Down­load Andrea Mantegna’s Ado­ra­tion of the Magi (top), for exam­ple, at the high­est res­o­lu­tion (8557 X 6559) and get clos­er to a vir­tu­al ver­sion than you ever could to the real thing. Learn the painting’s prove­nance and exhi­bi­tion his­to­ry, read an infor­ma­tive descrip­tion and a bib­li­og­ra­phy. The paint­ing is one of hun­dreds from Euro­pean mas­ters and their less­er-known appren­tices. You’ll also find sev­er­al hun­dred images of sculp­ture, both clas­si­cal and modern—like Paul Gauguin’s san­dal­wood Head with Horns, above—as well as draw­ings, man­u­scripts, pot­tery, jew­el­ry, coins, dec­o­ra­tive arts, and much more.

But the bulk of the dig­i­tal col­lec­tion con­sists of pho­tographs, with 112,261 images and count­ing in the archive. The Get­ty has “assem­bled the finest and most com­pre­hen­sive cor­pus of pho­tographs on the West Coast” in its pho­tog­ra­phy col­lec­tion (not to be con­fused with Getty’s son’s media empire), with “sub­stan­tial hold­ings by some of the most sig­nif­i­cant mas­ters of the 20th cen­tu­ry.” The col­lec­tion is also “par­tic­u­lar­ly rich in works dat­ing from the time of photography’s inven­tion” and its devel­op­ment in the mid-19th cen­tu­ry.

Down­load and study Dorothea Lange’s des­o­late Aban­doned Dust Bowl Home. Or jour­ney back to the ear­ly days of the medi­um, when gen­tle­man ama­teurs like Scot­tish noble­man Ronald Ruthven Leslie-Melville took up pho­tog­ra­phy as an avid pur­suit, and doc­u­ment­ed the land­scapes, archi­tec­ture, and per­son­ages of their age. (See Ruthven-Melville’s 1860’s pho­to­graph Roe­hamp­ton below.)

Like all dig­i­tal col­lec­tions, the Getty’s can­not repli­cate the expe­ri­ence of see­ing phys­i­cal works of art in per­son, but it does mag­nan­i­mous­ly expand access to thou­sands of images usu­al­ly hid­den from the pub­lic, as well as thou­sands of pieces cur­rent­ly on dis­play in one of its many muse­ums. Com­plete­ly free, the online archive serves as an invalu­able teach­ing and learn­ing tool, a vast repos­i­to­ry pre­serv­ing inter­na­tion­al art his­to­ry online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

25 Mil­lion Images From 14 Art Insti­tu­tions to Be Dig­i­tized & Put Online In One Huge Schol­ar­ly Archive

Vis­it a New Dig­i­tal Archive of 2.2 Mil­lion Images from the First Hun­dred Years of Pho­tog­ra­phy

1.8 Mil­lion Free Works of Art from World-Class Muse­ums: A Meta List of Great Art Avail­able Online

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

Artist Hand-Cuts an Intricate Octopus From a Single Piece of Paper: Discover the Japanese Art of Kirie

At first glance, the octo­pus in the video above might appear to be breath­ing. A sec­ond look reveals that it isn’t actu­al­ly breath­ing, nor is it actu­al­ly an octo­pus at all, but seem­ing­ly just a high­ly detailed draw­ing of one. Only upon the third look, if even then, does it become clear that the octo­pus has been not drawn but intri­cate­ly cut, and out of a sin­gle large sheet of paper at that. The two-dimen­sion­al sea crea­ture rep­re­sents a recent high point in the work of Japan­ese artist Masayo Fuku­da, who has prac­ticed this curi­ous craft, known as kirie, for more than a quar­ter of a cen­tu­ry now.

“Kirie (切り絵, lit­er­al­ly ‘cut pic­ture’) is the Japan­ese art of paper-cut­ting,” writes Spoon & Tam­ago’s John­ny Wald­man. “Vari­a­tions of kirie can be found in cul­tures around the world but the Japan­ese ver­sion is said to be derived from reli­gious cer­e­monies and can be traced back to around the AD 700s.

In its most con­ven­tion­al form, neg­a­tive space is cut from a sin­gle sheet of white paper and then con­trast­ed against a black back­ground to reveal a ren­der­ing.” Such painstak­ing work, and the aston­ish­ing­ly impres­sive artis­tic results that can come out of it, fit right in with the image of Japan­ese art and crafts­man­ship as the world now appre­ci­ates it. Bored Pan­da quotes Fuku­da as say­ing that “cut­ting pic­tures has become a way of dis­si­pat­ing all the stress of my dai­ly life.”

If you, too, would like to seek the ben­e­fits of a reg­u­lar kirie prac­tice, you don’t need much in the way of equip­ment: “All the basics you need are TANT paper” — a brand of paper made espe­cial­ly for origa­mi and oth­er paper crafts — “a cut­ter, mat­te, and a good light source.” Of course, if you look only to the work of an expe­ri­enced mas­ter like Fuku­da (which will go on dis­play, Wald­man notes, this April at Osaka’s Miraie Gallery) for exam­ples, you’re like­ly to get frus­trat­ed very quick­ly indeed.

You might con­sid­er first get­ting a broad­er overview of kirie as cur­rent­ly prac­ticed, start­ing with this five-minute doc­u­men­tary show­cas­ing the work of oth­er paper-cut­ting enthu­si­asts in Japan. Set aside enough time for it, and approach your sheet of paper with enough patience every day, and — who knows? — one day your octo­pus, too, may breathe.

via Spoon & Tam­a­go

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Watch a Japan­ese Crafts­man Lov­ing­ly Bring a Tat­tered Old Book Back to Near Mint Con­di­tion

20 Mes­mer­iz­ing Videos of Japan­ese Arti­sans Cre­at­ing Tra­di­tion­al Hand­i­crafts

Watch Japan­ese Wood­work­ing Mas­ters Cre­ate Ele­gant & Elab­o­rate Geo­met­ric Pat­terns with Wood

Design­er Cre­ates Origa­mi Card­board Tents to Shel­ter the Home­less from the Win­ter Cold

MIT Cre­ates Amaz­ing Self-Fold­ing Origa­mi Robots & Leap­ing Chee­tah Robots

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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 Art of Creating Special Effects in Silent Movies: Ingenuity Before the Age of CGI

If any­one tries to claim that mod­ern day movies have too many spe­cial effects remind them of this. Films have always used spe­cial effects to trick the audi­ence, and we’re just using new vari­a­tions of tools from a cen­tu­ry ago. In fact, right from the begin­ning, cre­ators like Georges Méliès were push­ing the bound­aries of cel­lu­loid and 24 frames per sec­ond like the show­men and magi­cians they were.

By the time we get to the silent come­di­ans as seen in our above video, tech­nol­o­gy had advanced along with the pure phys­i­cal com­e­dy of the stars. Yes, they were amaz­ing and nim­ble ath­letes, but they weren’t stu­pid. Cam­era trick­ery helped them look super­hu­man.

The first exam­ple shows Harold Lloyd’s icon­ic stunt from 1923’s Safe­ty Last!, where he hung over the streets of Los Ange­les from a clock face. Only he wasn’t real­ly. Using forced per­spec­tive, a con­struct­ed build­ing edi­fice, and a safe mat­tress a few feet below shows how Lloyd faced no dan­ger at all. Edit­ing, too, cre­ates so much of the effect, as we have seen how high the clock is com­pared to the ground in pre­vi­ous shots. The angle on the streets below and in the dis­tance real­ly sell the scene com­pared to just shoot­ing sky.

In fact, this forced per­spec­tive is still used in mod­ern films: Peter Jack­son used it a lot in The Lord of the Rings to give the impres­sion that Gan­dalf was twice as tall as Hob­bit Fro­do sim­ply by con­struct­ing the sets small­er.

And when back­grounds are basic like sand dunes, even the low bud­get film­mak­er can achieve some amaz­ing effects with no mon­ey, just a bunch of cool minia­tures:

Then again, Jack­ie Chan one-upped Lloyd for real in his 1983 film Project A, when he dan­gles from a three-sto­ry clock hand only to crash through two canopies onto the ground below. It’s a stunt so nice, they show you it twice!

The oth­er favorite trick of the silent films was mat­te paint­ing. As long as the cam­era doesn’t move, a piece of glass with a pho­to-real­is­tic paint­ing on it can seam­less­ly fit into the action.

In Char­lie Chaplin’s 1936 Mod­ern Times, that allows the come­di­an to skate very close to a three floor drop with­out even being in dan­ger. (Tech­ni­cal­ly, the cam­era *does* move in this shot, but it’s a short pan which wouldn’t affect the illu­sion.)

This old-school method has gone away, though up through the ‘80s great mat­te paint­ing artists were work­ing on films like the Star Wars tril­o­gy and Raiders of the Lost Ark. Now a dig­i­tal mat­te artist works in three dimen­sions, not two, with end­less finesse and tweak­ing at their dis­pos­al, like in Game of Thrones:

The mat­te is the basis, real­ly, of all mod­ern dig­i­tal effects. Wher­ev­er there is a green screen, you’re see­ing the evo­lu­tion of the mat­te. You prob­a­bly have an app on your phone that does some­thing sim­i­lar, and can mag­i­cal­ly trans­port you to where you real­ly want to be…just like film.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Super­cut of Buster Keaton’s Most Amaz­ing Stunts–and Keaton’s 5 Rules of Com­ic Sto­ry­telling

Some of Buster Keaton’s Great, Death-Defy­ing Stunts Cap­tured in Ani­mat­ed Gifs

Cap­ti­vat­ing GIFs Reveal the Mag­i­cal Spe­cial Effects in Clas­sic Silent Films

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

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.