Download 435 High Resolution Images from John J. Audubon’s The Birds of America

In our expe­ri­ence, bird lovers fall into two gen­er­al cat­e­gories:

Keen­ly obser­vant cat­a­loguers like John James Audubon â€¦

And those of us who can­not resist assign­ing anthro­po­mor­phic per­son­al­i­ties and behav­iors to the 435 stars of Audubon’s The Birds of Amer­i­ca, a stun­ning col­lec­tion of prints from life-size water­col­ors he pro­duced between 1827 and 1838.

Our sus­pi­cions have lit­tle to do with biol­o­gy, but rather, a cer­tain zesti­ness of expres­sion, an overem­phat­ic beak, a droll gleam in the eye.

The Audubon Society’s new­ly redesigned web­site abounds with trea­sure for those in either camp:

Free high res down­loads of all 435 plates.

Mp3s of each specimen’s call.

And vin­tage com­men­tary that effec­tive­ly splits the dif­fer­ence between sci­ence and the unin­ten­tion­al­ly humor­ous locu­tions of anoth­er age.

Take for instance, the Bur­row­ing Owl, as described by self-taught nat­u­ral­ist Thomas Say (1787–1834):

It is delight­ful, dur­ing fine weath­er, to see these live­ly lit­tle crea­tures sport­ing about the entrance of their bur­rows, which are always kept in the neat­est repair, and are often inhab­it­ed by sev­er­al indi­vid­u­als. When alarmed, they imme­di­ate­ly take refuge in their sub­ter­ranean cham­bers; or, if the dread­ed dan­ger be not imme­di­ate­ly impend­ing, they stand near the brink of the entrance, brave­ly bark­ing and flour­ish­ing their tails, or else sit erect to recon­noitre the move­ments of the ene­my.

The notes of ornithol­o­gist John Kirk Townsend (1809 – 1851) sug­gest that not every­one was as tak­en with the species as Say (who was, in all fair­ness, the father of Amer­i­can ento­mol­o­gy):

Noth­ing can be more unpleas­ant than the bag­ging of this species, on account of the fleas with which their plumage swarms, and which in all prob­a­bil­i­ty have been left in the bur­row by the Bad­ger or Mar­mot, at the time it was aban­doned by these ani­mals. I know of no oth­er bird infest­ed by that kind of ver­min. 

The Com­mon Gallinule, above, sug­gests that there’s often more to these birds than meets the eye. His some­what sheep­ish look­ing coun­te­nance belies the red hot love life Audubon recounts:

… the man­i­fes­ta­tions of their ama­to­ry propen­si­ty were quite remark­able. The male birds court­ed the females, both on the land and on the water; they fre­quent­ly spread out their tail like a fan, and moved round each oth­er, emit­ting a mur­mur­ing sound for some sec­onds. The female would after­wards walk to the water’s edge, stand in the water up to her breast, and receive the caress­es of the male, who imme­di­ate­ly after would strut on the water before her, jerk­ing with rapid­i­ty his spread tail for awhile, after which they would both resume their ordi­nary occu­pa­tions.

Being that we are firm­ly plant­ed in the sec­ond type of bird lover’s camp, this ornitho­log­i­cal cor­nu­copia main­ly serves to whet our appetite for more Falseknees, self-described bird nerd Joshua Bark­man’s beau­ti­ful­ly ren­dered web­com­ic.

Yes, Audubon’s Indi­go Birdaka Petit Pape­bleu, “an active and live­ly lit­tle fel­low” who “pos­sess­es much ele­gance in his shape, and also a cer­tain degree of firm­ness in his make” was sep­a­rat­ed by a cen­tu­ry or so from “Mood Indi­go”—we pre­sume that’s the tune stuck in Barkman’s bird’s head—but he does look rather pre­oc­cu­pied, no?

Pos­si­bly just think­ing of meal­worms…

Explore Audubon’s Birds of Amer­i­ca by chrono­log­i­cal or alpha­bet­i­cal order, or by state, and down­load them all for free here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cor­nell Launch­es Archive of 150,000 Bird Calls and Ani­mal Sounds, with Record­ings Going Back to 1929

What Kind of Bird Is That?: A Free App From Cor­nell Will Give You the Answer

Explore an Inter­ac­tive Ver­sion of The Wall of Birds, a 2,500 Square-Foot Mur­al That Doc­u­ments the Evo­lu­tion of Birds Over 375 Mil­lion Years

Mod­ernist Bird­hous­es Inspired by Bauhaus, Frank Lloyd Wright and Joseph Eich­ler

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, Novem­ber 7 for her month­ly book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Free: Download the Sublime Sights & Sounds of Yellowstone National Park

Moments before writ­ing these words I was feel­ing a lit­tle stressed—a not uncom­mon expe­ri­ence for most every­one these days. Then I watched the 25-sec­ond video of a bighorn sheep, above, and some­thing hap­pened. Not an epiphany or moment of Zen. Just a momen­tary sus­pen­sion of human woe as the ani­mal silent­ly munched, a crea­ture so unlike myself and yet so moti­vat­ed by the same basic needs.

How much bet­ter to observe the sheep first­hand, in its home at Yel­low­stone Nation­al Park? But per­haps we can, through our com­put­ers, touch into a lit­tle of the rem­e­dy Oliv­er Sacks sug­gest­ed for our mod­ern trau­mas. Nature gives us “sense of deep time,” the neu­rol­o­gist wrote, which “brings a deep peace with it, a detach­ment from the timescale, the urgen­cies of dai­ly life… a pro­found sense of being at home, a sort of com­pan­ion­ship with the earth.”

Research has found that watch­ing nature doc­u­men­taries can bring on real con­tent­ment, con­firm­ing what mil­lions of Nation­al Geo­graph­ic devo­tees already know. Now, at the Nation­al Park Service’s site, you can immerse your­self in vir­tu­al vis­its with not only our silent bighorn sheep friend, but the song of a moun­tain blue­bird, or cho­rus­es of howl­ing wolves. The audio library con­tains dozens more such melo­di­ous and haunt­ing sounds from Yellowstone’s bio­pho­ny.

The video library is replete with not only short clips of ani­mals doing what ani­mals do, but also video tours like that above, in which we learn how park rangers cap­ture and han­dle bison in their con­ser­va­tion efforts at the park. Then there are stun­ning land­scape videos like that below of Low­er Falls viewed from Look­out Point in the spring of 2017, with sooth­ing nat­ur­al white noise from the rush­ing water and blow­ing wind.

All of this con­tent is avail­able for down­load and free for any­one to use. Remix the sounds of falling snow, gey­sers, and moun­tain lions; make as many nature gifs as you desire. As you do, bear in mind that while humans might great­ly benefit—both psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly and culturally—from the dig­i­tal preser­va­tion of the nat­ur­al world, the true pur­pose may be to help us under­stand why we need to step back and pre­serve the real thing.

Just above see a (non­down­load­able) video from Yel­low­stone on the impor­tance of lis­ten­ing to and con­serv­ing the land’s nat­ur­al soundscapes—a fea­ture of the world that best thrives in the near absence of human involve­ment.

Enter the sound library here, and the video library here.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Japan­ese Prac­tice of “For­est Bathing”—Or Just Hang­ing Out in the Woods—Can Low­er Stress Lev­els and Fight Dis­ease

Watch 50 Hours of Nature Sound­scapes from the BBC: Sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly Proven to Ease Stress and Pro­mote Hap­pi­ness & Awe

The British Library’s “Sounds” Archive Presents 80,000 Free Audio Record­ings: World & Clas­si­cal Music, Inter­views, Nature Sounds & More

10 Hours of Ambi­ent Arc­tic Sounds Will Help You Relax, Med­i­tate, Study & Sleep

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

David Gilmour Makes His Live at Pompeii Concert Film Free to Watch Online

On a hot Octo­ber day in 1971, Pink Floyd and their crew assem­bled their live gear in an emp­ty ancient Pom­peii amphithe­ater and, with a film crew along for the ride, record­ed one of the first epic con­certs of their career, play­ing “Echoes,” “Set the Con­trols for the Heart of the Sun,” “Care­ful with that Axe, Eugene,” and oth­er prog num­bers that set the stage for Dark Side of the Moon. A few years lat­er, they’d be play­ing in sta­di­ums actu­al­ly filled with peo­ple, and well, you know the rest.

In 2016, gui­tarist David Gilmour returned to the same amphithe­ater with his cur­rent band in tow, and filmed anoth­er con­cert movie (also called “Live at Pom­peii”). This time the sta­di­um was filled (though not on the ancient seats), night­time was exchanged for day­time, and the set list was a com­bi­na­tion of Floyd clas­sics, old­er rar­i­ties like “Fat Old Sun” and “One of the These Days”, and plen­ty of tracks from his then new solo album Rat­tle That Lock, released in 2015.

Gilmour opt­ed not to play “Echoes,” telling Rolling Stone that it was too much a Rick Wright song and didn’t feel right to play it with­out him. It was the first pub­lic per­for­mance in the ancient Roman amphithe­atre since AD 79. (The gui­tarist was also made an hon­orary cit­i­zen of Pom­peii).

Well, Gilmour just released the full con­cert on YouTube after a world­wide cin­e­ma screen­ing of the con­cert in 2017. The YouTube playlist con­tains tracks that weren’t in the film, so for fans, this is just an extra spe­cial bonus.

The band includes Chester Kamen on gui­tars, a ses­sion musi­cian who has played with both Gilmour and Waters on var­i­ous occa­sions; Guy Pratt, who’s been Pink Floyd’s tour­ing bassist since Roger Waters split; Chuck Leavell of the All­man Broth­ers; Greg Phllinganes, and Steve DiS­tanis­lao.

The show begins as the last rays of sun­light dis­ap­pear behind Mt. Vesu­vius, a nice Floy­di­an touch. It ends, appro­pri­ate­ly enough, with “Com­fort­ably Numb,” (embed­ded above) but not with an exact copy of its famous gui­tar solo.

“I just try and let the solo come out,” Gilmour said in the same Rolling Stone inter­view. “I couldn’t play the one off the album. I try not too think about it too much.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pink Floyd Play Live Amidst the Ruins of Pom­peii in 1971 … and David Gilmour Does It Again in 2016

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

David Gilmour Invites a Street Per­former to Play Wine Glass­es Onstage With Him In Venice: Hear Them Play “Shine On You Crazy Dia­mond”

David Gilmour Talks About the Mys­ter­ies of His Famous Gui­tar Tone

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

The Women of Rock: Discover an Oral History Project That Features Pioneering Women in Rock Music

If you’ve won­dered why projects cel­e­brat­ing women in the his­to­ry of rock are need­ed, maybe all you need to do is lis­ten to women in rock. Sto­ries of boys’ clubs in the indus­try, from record labels to jour­nal­ists to fan­doms, are ubiq­ui­tous, which is why so many voic­es are pushed to the mar­gins, say rock his­to­ri­ans like Tanya Pear­son, direc­tor of the Women of Rock oral his­to­ry project.

Mar­gin­al­iza­tion hap­pens not only on stages and stu­dios but at the lev­el of mem­o­ry and preser­va­tion. “Canons influ­ence how we remem­ber the past,” Pear­son writes. “Rock jour­nal­ism, media, and schol­ar­ship per­pet­u­ates a one sided, andro­cen­tric rock nar­ra­tive…. Women do not eas­i­ly fit and so they con­tin­ue to be under­rep­re­sent­ed. If they are rep­re­sent­ed at all, they are not giv­en the same lev­el of atten­tion or grant­ed the same access to audi­ence as their male coun­ter­parts.”

Women of Rock, a “col­lec­tion of dig­i­tal inter­views and writ­ten tran­scripts housed at the Sophia Smith Col­lec­tion at Smith col­lege,” focus­es “pri­mar­i­ly on artists who have been left out of the pop­u­lar rock nar­ra­tives.”

Pear­son and her vol­un­teer col­lab­o­ra­tors hope that “by cre­at­ing space for women, trans, and gen­der non­con­form­ing artists to share their per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al his­to­ries” the project can “con­tribute to their per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al his­to­ries and accu­rate pop­u­lar rock nar­ra­tives.”


Pear­son cre­at­ed the project while an under­grad­u­ate at Smith, find­ing her­self “frus­trat­ed by the scant details avail­able about her favorite musi­cians,” writes Sharon Han­non at Please Kill Me. “The main rea­son I start­ed this project,” she tells Han­non, “was that it’s some­thing I wish I had access to when I was 13 or 14,” a time in her life when she was “des­per­ate­ly search­ing for rep­re­sen­ta­tion.” The prob­lem wasn’t that women like her did not exist in rock, but that she couldn’t find out much about them.

The site’s cur­rent ros­ter of inter­vie­wees is an inter­est­ing and impres­sive mix. It includes women who have been inte­gral to punk, indie, and alter­na­tive rock—like Lydia Lunch (fur­ther up), Nina Gor­don and Louise Post of Veru­ca Salt, Alice Bag, Shirley Man­son, Julie Cafritz, Melis­sa Auf der Mauer, Kristin Hersh, Mary Tim­o­ny, Kira Rossel­er, JD Sam­son, Aman­da Palmer, and Exene Cer­van­ka. (Sad­ly, Kim Shat­tuck of the Muffs, who passed away recent­ly, isn’t fea­tured.) And there are less­er-known artists who deserve a much wider audi­ence, like Brie (Howard) Dar­ling, a mem­ber of the crim­i­nal­ly under­rat­ed Fan­ny, and whose full inter­view you can see below.

All of these women have sto­ries to tell about sur­viv­ing in a “male dom­i­nat­ed busi­ness” as Tra­cy Bon­ham says in the trail­er at the top of the post. Sto­ries about “the patri­ar­chal sys­tem,” as Shirley Man­son says in her inter­view fur­ther up, “that allows men to thrive” and push­es women out. All of these musi­cians also tell us sto­ries about themselves—their child­hoods, influ­ences, strug­gles, and pas­sions, leav­ing behind a record in which future women rock­ers and rock his­to­ri­ans among the cur­rent gen­er­a­tion of 13- and 14-year-old kids can see them­selves.

See the pro­jec­t’s YouTube chan­nel for more full inter­views and inter­view clips and vis­it the Women of  Rock site for more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Meet Fan­ny, the First Female Rock Band to Top the Charts: “They Were Just Colos­sal and Won­der­ful, and Nobody’s Ever Men­tioned Them”

New Web Project Immor­tal­izes the Over­looked Women Who Helped Cre­ate Rock and Roll in the 1950s

How Joan Jett Start­ed the Run­aways at 15 and Faced Down Every Bar­ri­er for Women in Rock and Roll

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

Where Did Human Beings Come From? 7 Million Years of Human Evolution Visualized in Six Minutes

One vul­gar con­cep­tion of human evo­lu­tion holds that we “come from mon­keys.” You don’t have to be a bona fide evo­lu­tion­ary biol­o­gist to know that’s not quite how we cur­rent­ly under­stand it to have hap­pened, but how clear­ly do you grasp the real sto­ry? The ani­ma­tion from the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry above goes over sev­en mil­lion years of evo­lu­tion in a mere six min­utes, and it’s cer­tain­ly not a straight line down from “mon­keys” to us. The video does, how­ev­er, start its sto­ry with apes, and specif­i­cal­ly chim­panzees, “our clos­est liv­ing rel­a­tives” with whom “we share a com­mon ances­tor that lived sev­en mil­lion years ago.”

But we once had “much clos­er rel­a­tives, hominins, who are no longer liv­ing.” These we know about through the fos­sils they left behind in Africa, from which the first known hominin emerged those sev­en mil­lion years ago. Dif­fer­ent bones from dif­fer­ent species of hominins found else­where on the con­ti­nent sug­gest small teeth, upright walk­ing, and bipedal­ism, some of the qual­i­ties that dis­tin­guish humans from apes.

And though hominins may have walked upright, they also climbed trees, but even­tu­al­ly lost the grasp­ing feet need­ed to do so. Lat­er they com­pen­sat­ed with the very human-like devel­op­ment of mak­ing and using stone tools. Two mil­lion years ago, the well-known Homo erec­tus, with their large brains, long legs, and dex­trous hands, made the famous migra­tion out of Africa.

We know that by 1.2 mil­lion years there­after Homo erec­tus’ brains had grown larg­er still, fueled by new cook­ing tech­niques. Only about 200,000 years ago do we, Homo sapi­ens, enter the pic­ture, but not long after, we inter­breed with the var­i­ous hominin species already in exis­tence as we spread out­ward to fill “every geo­graph­ic niche” of the Earth. Ulti­mate­ly, hominins could­n’t keep up: “Cli­mate pres­sures and com­pe­ti­tion with Homo sapi­ens may have wiped them out.” Now that we’ve seen their sto­ry and ours reca­pit­u­lat­ed, let’s pour one out for the once-mighty hominin who pre­ced­ed us, lived along­side us, and influ­enced us in ways genet­ic and oth­er­wise — at least if it has­n’t giv­en us too much pause won­der­ing when the evo­lu­tion­ar­i­ly inevitable suc­ces­sor to Homo sapi­ens will appear in our midst.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch 570 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion on Earth in 60 Sec­onds

550 Mil­lion Years of Human Evo­lu­tion in an Illus­trat­ed Flip­book

Carl Sagan Explains Evo­lu­tion in an Eight-Minute Ani­ma­tion

New Ani­mat­ed Web Series Makes the The­o­ry of Evo­lu­tion Easy to Under­stand

Richard Dawkins Explains Why There Was Nev­er a First Human Being

10 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion Visu­al­ized in an Ele­gant, 5‑Foot Long Info­graph­ic from 1931

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 Simulation Theory Explained In Three Animated Videos

The idea that we are soft­ware ema­na­tions in a vast, unimag­in­ably com­plex com­put­er sim­u­la­tion may car­ry more dizzy­ing philo­soph­i­cal, eth­i­cal, and psy­cho­log­i­cal impli­ca­tions than any oth­er meta­phys­i­cal assump­tion. It is not, how­ev­er, quite a new idea, even if machines sophis­ti­cat­ed enough to make worlds are only now con­ceiv­able. We see ancient sages spec­u­late that sol­id mat­ter is no more than some sort of graph­i­cal (tac­tile, etc.) user inter­face orig­i­nat­ing from the mind of a mas­ter coder.

We see a sim­i­lar idea in the imma­te­ri­al­ism of 18th cen­tu­ry British empiri­cist George Berke­ley. And where would sci­ence fic­tion be—especially the hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry sci-fi of Philip K. Dick—with­out vari­eties of the sim­u­la­tion the­o­ry? The TED-Ed les­son on sim­u­la­tion the­o­ry, above, by Uni­ver­si­ty of Mary­land physi­cist Zohreh Davou­di (ani­mat­ed by Eoin Duffy) opens with a quote from Dick: “This is a card­board uni­verse, and if you lean too long or too heav­i­ly against it, you fall through.”

In Dick’s world, this hap­pens fre­quent­ly. But if our real­i­ty were a sim­u­la­tion, how could we pos­si­bly step out­side it to con­firm? Prov­able or not, the the­o­ry is end­less­ly com­pelling. Davou­di walks us through a cou­ple of fas­ci­nat­ing sci­en­tif­ic attempts to “fall through” by the­o­riz­ing the evi­dence we might expect to find if the uni­verse is made of code.

For one thing, there would prob­a­bly be glitch­es. To cor­rect for errors, “the sim­u­la­tors could adjust the con­stants in the laws of nature.” Tiny shifts, per­haps unde­tectable with cur­rent instru­ments, could sig­nal heuris­tic revi­sions. Oth­er the­o­ret­i­cal approach­es involve using sub­atom­ic par­ti­cles to detect the finite lim­its of the god­like computer’s pow­er.

Would find­ing shifts in phys­i­cal laws prove a sim­u­la­tion. No. And in any case, our entire species could have come and gone before any such shifts have tak­en place. We can­not pre­sume that humans are the cho­sen ben­e­fi­cia­ries of the sim­u­lat­ed uni­verse. Maybe we’re pro­to­types. Maybe our solar sys­tem is someone’s side project. Wouldn’t the sim­u­la­tors notice us fig­ur­ing it out and pre­vent us from doing so? (They would, pre­sum­ably, be watch­ing.)

And why should the great com­put­er have any­thing resem­bling the com­pu­ta­tion­al lim­i­ta­tions of our own machines, Davou­di asks. After all, if it exists out­side the uni­verse as we know it and cre­at­ed its phys­i­cal laws, it’s safe to assume that it exists in a dif­fer­ent uni­verse with entire­ly dif­fer­ent laws, which we might nev­er begin to under­stand. If your mind falls into pools of infi­nite regress when con­tem­plat­ing the idea—aided by con­scious­ness-rais­ing sub­stances or otherwise—you won’t find any­where safe to land in the oth­er sim­u­la­tion videos here, from Vox and phi­los­o­phy YouTube chan­nel Kurzge­sagt. But you might begin to see the con­cept as a lit­tle more plau­si­ble, and maybe more unset­tling, than before.

Elon Musk, for exam­ple, draw­ing on the work of Oxford philoso­pher Nick Bostrom, sug­gests that the sim­u­la­tors are not extra-dimen­sion­al beings (or what­ev­er), but hyper-sophis­ti­cat­ed future humans run­ning Sim ver­sions of their past. This ver­sion also becomes the philo­soph­i­cal equiv­a­lent of mise en abyme as ances­tor sim­u­la­tions, run on oth­er plan­ets, cre­ate their own sim­u­la­tions, ship them off­world, and so forth.…

You can go as far down this rab­bit hole as you like. Or, you can do as Samuel John­son sup­pos­ed­ly did when he heard Bish­op Berke­ley claim that mat­ter didn’t exist. Kick the near­est heavy object and shout, “I refute it thus!”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Are We Liv­ing Inside a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: An Intro­duc­tion to the Mind-Bog­gling “Sim­u­la­tion Argu­ment”

Are We Liv­ing in a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: A 2‑Hour Debate with Neil Degrasse Tyson, David Chalmers, Lisa Ran­dall, Max Tegmark & More

Stephen Fry Voic­es a New Dystopi­an Short Film About Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence & Sim­u­la­tion The­o­ry: Watch Escape

Philip K. Dick The­o­rizes The Matrix in 1977, Declares That We Live in “A Com­put­er-Pro­grammed Real­i­ty”

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

Watch 10 Years with Hayao Miyazaki Free Online: A Four Part-Part Documentary on the Unstoppable Japanese Animator

When Conan O’Brien found him­self tem­porar­i­ly out of a late-night tele­vi­sion host­ing job a few years ago, he went on tour with a stage show instead. If the doc­u­men­tary chron­i­cling that peri­od of his career was­n’t called Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, a sim­i­lar title could equal­ly fit the recent films that have cap­tured Hayao Miyaza­k­i’s oscil­la­tion between work and “retire­ment.” In 2013’s King­dom of Dreams and Mad­ness, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, we thought we wit­nessed Miyaza­ki ani­mat­ing the final frame of his final fea­ture. But his sub­se­quent with­draw­al from film­mak­ing proved short-lived, and his prepa­ra­tion for re-emer­gence (includ­ing his gone-viral cri­tique of exper­i­men­tal com­put­er ani­ma­tion) pro­vides the sub­ject for 2016’s Nev­er-End­ing Man.

This year, Nev­er-End­ing Man direc­tor Kaku Arakawa returns with 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki, a four-part doc­u­men­tary avail­able to watch free at NHK’s web site, and whose trail­er appears at the top of the post. “Where­as Nev­er-End­ing Man tracked the director’s career from his short-lived retire­ment in 2013 to the ger­mi­na­tion of his forth­com­ing fea­ture How Do You Live?, this series cov­ers the decade run­ning up to 2013,” writes Car­toon Brew’s Alex Dudok de Wit. Those were busy years for Miyaza­k­i’s Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, involv­ing as they did the pro­duc­tion of Ponyo and The Wind Ris­es, as well as two films direct­ed by Miyaza­k­i’s son Goro: the Ursu­la K. LeGuin adap­ta­tion Tales from Earth­sea and the 1960s board­ing school-set From Up on Pop­py Hill.

Tales from Earth­sea came out in 2006, and at the time Miyaza­ki felt that Goro was unready to make his debut. As awk­ward as the peri­od of estrange­ment between Miyaza­ki père et fils dur­ing that movie’s pro­duc­tion may feel — espe­cial­ly giv­en how often they’re in the same office — it reflects the near-impos­si­bly high stan­dard to which the man who direct­ed My Neigh­bor TotoroPrincess Mononoke, and Spir­it­ed Away holds not just his suc­ces­sor and his col­lab­o­ra­tors, but him­self. Above all him­self, as revealed by the can­did footage Arakawa’s decade of access to Miyaza­k­i’s life allowed him to gath­er.

“We see him at work in his pri­vate stu­dio and at Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, and relax­ing at home,” writes Dudok de Wit, “inso­far as he’s capa­ble of relax­ation.” What Miyaza­ki says to Arakawa about his craft, his world­view, and his life sug­gests a mind per­pet­u­al­ly at work, even dur­ing the rare times his hands aren’t. 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki ends with the mak­ing of The Wind Ris­es, but Arakawa must sure­ly have known not to take the ani­ma­tor’s pro­nounce­ments of it being his final fea­ture seri­ous­ly: Hayao Miyaza­ki can’t stop, nor do we want him to.

Watch 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki online here, and find it list­ed in our col­lec­tion of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Phi­los­o­phy of Hayao Miyaza­ki: A Video Essay on How the Tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese Reli­gion Shin­to Suf­fus­es Miyazaki’s Films

The Essence of Hayao Miyaza­ki Films: A Short Doc­u­men­tary About the Human­i­ty at the Heart of His Ani­ma­tion

Watch Hayao Miyaza­ki Ani­mate the Final Shot of His Final Fea­ture Film, The Wind Ris­es

Watch Moe­bius and Miyaza­ki, Two of the Most Imag­i­na­tive Artists, in Con­ver­sa­tion (2004)

Hayao Miyaza­ki Meets Aki­ra Kuro­sawa: Watch the Titans of Japan­ese Film in Con­ver­sa­tion (1993)

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.

Download Full Issues of MAVO, the Japanese Avant-Garde Magazine That Announced a New Modernist Movement (1923–1925)

The ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry artis­tic and lit­er­ary rev­o­lu­tion called Mod­ernism appears in his­to­ry as an almost entire­ly Euro­pean-Amer­i­can phe­nom­e­non. Text­books and syl­labi tend to leave out impor­tant mod­ernist move­ments on oth­er con­ti­nents, which means we miss out on impor­tant cross-con­ti­nen­tal con­ver­sa­tions. Though, to be fair, very few Eng­lish-speak­ing text­book writ­ers and teach­ers have known much about the work of, Mavo, an avant-garde group of Japan­ese artists from the 1920s.

Scant lit­er­a­ture has been avail­able in trans­la­tion. Crit­ics “were often dis­mis­sive of the group,” notes Mar­garet Car­ri­g­an at Hyper­al­ler­gic, “and art his­to­ri­ans have all but ignored them in favor of larg­er con­tem­po­ra­ne­ous move­ments, like Ger­man Expres­sion­ism.” What­ev­er the rea­sons for the slight­ing of ear­ly Japan­ese mod­ernism, we can now try to rec­ti­fy the imbal­ance thanks to online sources cov­er­ing the fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry of Mavo—both its inter­est­ing par­al­lels with Euro­pean Mod­ernism and its impor­tant dif­fer­ences.

Or we can begin to get an intrigu­ing sense of these things, more or less, depend­ing on our lev­el of famil­iar­i­ty with Japan­ese lan­guage and cul­ture. MAVO mag­a­zine, edit­ed by Tat­suo Oka­da and Tomoyoshi Muraya­ma, “appeared in 7 issues between July 1924 and August 1925,” writes Mono­skop, who host six of those issues in high res­o­lu­tion scans. (Click on the PDF link under the image of each cov­er.) “By the third issue, the mag­a­zine was thick with adver­tise­ments and the usage of actu­al news­pa­per as its pages.” The orig­i­nal linocuts and “pho­to­graph­ic repro­duc­tions of assem­blage, paint­ing, and graph­ic works” are small and some­times inscrutable in grayscale.

There are many affini­ties with Euro­pean modernisms—dichotomies of play­ful­ness and pre­ci­sion, the love of col­lage and indus­tri­al machin­ery. The his­to­ry of Mavo, like that of mod­ernists world­wide, is a his­to­ry of anar­chic, con­fronta­tion­al art, charged with con­tempt for tra­di­tion. In 1923, the Shin-aichi news­pa­per, notes The Japan Times, cov­ered the sto­ry of a Mavo exhib­it in which artist Takamiza­wa Michi­nao tossed rocks through the win­dows of a state-spon­sored, tra­di­tion­al art exhib­it while Mavo artists dis­played their own abstract can­vas­es out­side the gallery.

Mavo came about as the rebrand­ing of an ear­li­er group, “Japan’s Asso­ci­a­tion of Futur­ist Artists, which became the local off­shoot of the Euro­pean Futur­ist phe­nom­e­non that began in Italy in 1909.” They were eclec­tic, pub­lish­ing crit­i­cism, design­ing posters, build­ings, and dance and the­ater pieces, incor­po­rat­ing Cubism and Dadaist ten­den­cies. Unlike the Ital­ian Futur­ists, who became increas­ing­ly fas­cist in their ori­en­ta­tion, Mavo opposed the con­ser­v­a­tive state. “The Great Kan­to Earth­quake of 1924 brought about a pro­le­tar­i­an and social­ist bent to Mavo activ­i­ties.”

See more of MAVO mag­a­zine at Mono­skop, and learn more about the move­ment at The Japan Times, Hyper­al­ler­gic, and Monoskop’s bib­li­og­ra­phy of a few schol­ar­ly sources in Eng­lish (and Japan­ese, if you read the lan­guage). Also see Gen­nifer Weisen­feld’s book, MAVO: Japan­ese Artists and the Avant-Garde, 1905–1931. If the phrase Japan­ese avant-garde calls up names like Yoko Ono and Yay­oi Kusama, now it may also bring to mind the ear­li­er Mavo and the many artists under its umbrel­la who adapt­ed Euro­pean influ­ences for Japan­ese modes of artis­tic rev­o­lu­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

A Dig­i­tal Archive of Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890 to 1922): Browse the Lit­er­ary Mag­a­zines Where Mod­ernism Began

Exten­sive Archive of Avant-Garde & Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890–1939) Now Avail­able Online

Down­load Influ­en­tial Avant-Garde Mag­a­zines from the Ear­ly 20th Cen­tu­ry: Dadaism, Sur­re­al­ism, Futur­ism & More

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

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