Science Shows That Snowball the Cockatoo Has 14 Different Dance Moves: The Vogue, Headbang & More

We humans think we invent­ed every­thing.

The wheel…

The print­ing press…

Danc­ing…

Well, we’re right about the first two.

Turns out the impulse to shake a tail feath­er isn’t an arbi­trary cul­tur­al con­struct of human­i­ty but rather a hard-wired neu­ro­log­i­cal impulse in beings clas­si­fied as vocal learners—us, ele­phants, dol­phins, song­birds, and par­rots like the Inter­net-famous sul­phur-crest­ed cock­a­too, Snow­ball, above.

Ani­mals out­side of this elite set can be trained to exe­cute cer­tain phys­i­cal moves, or they may just look like they’re danc­ing when track­ing the move­ments of their food bowl or shim­my­ing with relief at being picked up from dog­gy day­care.

Snow­ball, how­ev­er, is tru­ly danc­ing, thanks to his species’ capac­i­ty for hear­ing, then imi­tat­ing sounds. Like every great spon­ta­neous dancer, he’s got the music in him.

Anirud­dh Patel, a Pro­fes­sor of Psy­chol­o­gy at Tufts who spe­cial­izes in music cog­ni­tion, was the first to con­sid­er that Snowball’s habit of rock­ing out to the Back­street Boys CD he’d had in his pos­ses­sion when dropped off at a par­rot res­cue cen­ter in Dyer, Indi­ana, was some­thing more than a par­ty trick.

Dr. Patel notes that par­rots have more in com­mon with dinosaurs than human beings, and that our mon­key cousins don’t dance (much to this writer’s dis­ap­point­ment).

(Also, for the record? That goat who sings like Ush­er? It may sound like Ush­er, but you’ll find no sci­en­tif­ic sup­port for the notion that its vocal­iza­tions con­sti­tute singing.)

Snow­ball, on the oth­er hand, has made a major impres­sion upon the Acad­e­my.

In papers pub­lished in Cur­rent Biol­o­gy and Annals of the New York Acad­e­my of Sci­ences, Patel and his co-authors John R. Iversen, Mic­ah R. Breg­man, and Ire­na Schulz delved into why Snow­ball can dance like … well, maybe not Fred Astaire, but cer­tain­ly your aver­age mosh­ing human.

After exten­sive obser­va­tion, they con­clud­ed that an indi­vid­ual must pos­sess five spe­cif­ic men­tal skills and predilec­tions in order to move impul­sive­ly to music:

  1. They must be com­plex vocal learn­ers, with the accom­pa­ny­ing abil­i­ty to con­nect sound and move­ment.
  2. They must be able to imi­tate move­ments.
  3. They must be able to learn com­plex sequences of actions.
  4. They must be atten­tive to the move­ments of oth­ers.
  5. They must form long-term social bonds.

Cock­a­toos can do all of this. Humans, too.

Patel’s for­mer stu­dent R. Joanne Jao Keehn recent­ly reviewed footage she shot in 2009 of Snow­ball get­ting down to Queen’s “Anoth­er One Bites the Dust” and Cyn­di Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” iden­ti­fy­ing 14 dis­tinct moves.

Accord­ing to her research, his favorites are Vogue, Head-Foot Sync, and Head­bang with Lift­ed Foot.

If you’ve been hug­ging the wall since mid­dle school, maybe it’s time to take a deep breath, fol­lowed by an avian danc­ing les­son.

How did Snow­ball come by his aston­ish­ing rug-cut­ting con­fi­dence? Cer­tain­ly not by watch­ing instruc­tion­al videos on YouTube. His human com­pan­ion Schulz dances with him occa­sion­al­ly, but does­n’t attempt to teach him her moves, which she describes as “lim­it­ed.”

Much like two human part­ners, they’re not always doing the same thing at the same time.

And the chore­og­ra­phy is pure­ly Snowball’s.

As Patel told The Har­vard Gazette:

It’s actu­al­ly a com­plex cog­ni­tive act that involves choos­ing among dif­fer­ent types of pos­si­ble move­ment options. It’s exact­ly how we think of human danc­ing.

If he is actu­al­ly com­ing up with some of this stuff by him­self, it’s an incred­i­ble exam­ple of ani­mal cre­ativ­i­ty because he’s not doing this to get food; he’s not doing this to get a mat­ing oppor­tu­ni­ty, both of which are often moti­va­tions in exam­ples of cre­ative behav­ior in oth­er species.

You can read more sci­ence-based arti­cles inspired by Snow­ball and watch some of his many pub­lic appear­ances on the not-for-prof­it, dona­tion-based sanc­tu­ary Bird Lovers Only’s web­site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why We Dance: An Ani­mat­ed Video Explains the Sci­ence Behind Why We Bust a Move

The Strange Danc­ing Plague of 1518: When Hun­dreds of Peo­ple in France Could Not Stop Danc­ing for Months

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

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inkyzine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, Sep­tem­ber 9 for anoth­er sea­son of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Listen Online to Every Minute of the Original Woodstock Festival

Image of Joe Cock­er by Derek Red­mond and Paul Camp­bel, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Life­hack­er has this great tip. “Start­ing at 5:07 p.m. EST today, August 15, you can lis­ten to every minute of the three days of con­certs, cour­tesy of Philadel­phia radio sta­tion WXPN. It will include all of the festival’s archived audio: from the icon­ic per­for­mances to the stage announce­ments to the rain delays. The exclu­sive broad­cast will fea­ture new­ly recon­struct­ed audio archives of each of Woodstock’s 32 acts, start­ing with Richie Havens’ open­ing set, and con­tin­u­ing through to Jimi Hendrix’s clos­ing per­for­mance on Sun­day morn­ing. Accord­ing to a release from the sta­tion, it will be broad­cast in as close to real time as pos­si­ble.” To lis­ten, go to this page, scroll down, and launch the media play­er.

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!

A Short Animated Introduction to Hypatia, Ancient Alexandria’s Great Female Philosopher

Ten years ago, a film came out called Ago­ra, a biopic of philoso­pher and math­e­mati­cian Hypa­tia of Alexan­dria, daugh­ter of math­e­mati­cian Theon, the last record­ed direc­tor of the Library of Alexan­dria. The movie wasn’t well-reviewed or wide­ly seen, which is nei­ther here nor there, but it was heav­i­ly crit­i­cized for his­tor­i­cal inac­cu­ra­cies. This seemed a lit­tle sil­ly. “One does not go to the movies to learn about ancient his­to­ry but to be enter­tained,” as Joshua J. Mark writes at the Ancient His­to­ry Ency­clo­pe­dia. Ago­ra is not an accu­rate ren­der­ing of the lit­tle we know of Hypa­tia, but nei­ther is Spar­ta­cus, a far more enter­tain­ing film, an accu­rate depic­tion of the 2nd cen­tu­ry B.C.E. glad­i­a­tor and rebel.

And yet, we should know who Hypa­tia was, and we should under­stand what hap­pened to her, some­thing many of the film’s reli­gious­ly-moti­vat­ed crit­ics refused to admit, claim­ing that the depic­tion of hos­tile, anti-intel­lec­tu­al Chris­tians in the movie was noth­ing more than prej­u­di­cial ani­mus on the part of direc­tor Ale­jan­dro Amenabar. The truth is that “the anti-intel­lec­tu­al stance of the ear­ly church is attest­ed to by ear­ly Chris­t­ian writ­ers,” Mark points out. And “the his­tor­i­cal records state” that Hypa­tia “was beat­en and flayed to death by a mob of Chris­t­ian monks who then burned her in a church.”

The TED-Ed video above calls this mob a “mili­tia” who saw Hypatia’s sci­en­tif­ic pur­suits as “witch­craft.” The charge is, of course, specif­i­cal­ly gen­dered. The man­ner of her death was so bru­tal and shock­ing that “even those Chris­t­ian writ­ers who were hos­tile to her and claimed she was a witch,” Mark writes, “are gen­er­al­ly sym­pa­thet­ic in record­ing her death as a tragedy. These accounts rou­tine­ly depict Hypa­tia as a woman who was wide­ly known for her gen­eros­i­ty, love of learn­ing, and exper­tise in teach­ing in the sub­jects of Neo-Pla­ton­ism, math­e­mat­ics, sci­ence, and phi­los­o­phy.”

As is the case with many ancient fig­ures, none of her own writ­ings sur­vive, but both her con­tem­po­rary crit­ics and sym­pa­thet­ic stu­dents record sim­i­lar impres­sions of her intel­lec­tu­al curios­i­ty and sci­en­tif­ic knowl­edge. The short video les­son tells us Hypa­tia was born around 355 A.C.E., which means she would have been around six­ty years old at the time of her death. She lived in Alexan­dria, “then part of the Egypt­ian province of the East­ern Roman Empire, and an intel­lec­tu­al cen­ter.” Edu­cat­ed by her father, she sur­passed him “in both math­e­mat­ics and phi­los­o­phy, becom­ing the city’s fore­most schol­ar.”

She even­tu­al­ly suc­ceed­ed Theon as head of the Pla­ton­ic school, “sim­i­lar to a mod­ern uni­ver­si­ty,” and she served as a trust­ed advi­sor to the city’s lead­ers, includ­ing its gov­er­nor, Orestes, a “mod­er­ate Chris­t­ian” him­self. Her achieve­ments were many, but her teach­ing, draw­ing on Pla­to, Aris­to­tle, Plot­i­nus, and Pythago­ras, was her great­est lega­cy, the TED-Ed les­son (script­ed by Soraya Field Fio­rio) asserts. Hypatia’s death not only deprived the city of a beloved teacher and schol­ar. Her mur­der, at the behest of Alexan­dri­an bish­op Cyril, “was a turn­ing point.” Oth­er philoso­phers fled the city, and Alexandria’s “role as a cen­ter of learn­ing declined.”

“In a very real way,” the les­son tells us, “the spir­it of inqui­si­tion, open­ness, and fair­ness she fos­tered died with her.”

For a more com­plete treat­ment of Hypa­ti­a’s life and intel­lec­tu­al con­tri­bu­tions, read Maria Dziel­ska’s book, Hypa­tia of Alexan­dria.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Rise and Fall of the Great Library of Alexan­dria: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

Carl Sagan Explains How the Ancient Greeks, Using Rea­son and Math, Fig­ured Out the Earth Isn’t Flat, Over 2,000 Years Ago

Free Cours­es in Ancient His­to­ry, Lit­er­a­ture & Phi­los­o­phy 

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

Watch John Entwistle’s Bass-Playing Genius on Display in Isolated Tracks for “Won’t Be Fooled Again” and “Baba O’Reilly”

I guess it’s easy to be “The Qui­et One” in The Who when sur­round­ed by a preen­ing singer with gold­en locks, a gui­tarist with a wind­mill arm who smash­es his equip­ment, and a com­plete­ly insane drum­mer (on and off stage). But John Entwistle helped root the band by stand­ing still and deliv­er­ing some of the meati­est and beat­i­est licks and melod­ic runs in ‘60s rock.

The above footage sal­vaged from the doc The Kids Are Alright shows the mas­ter at work. “Won’t Be Fooled Again” isn’t known as a bass-for­ward song, so this iso­lat­ed track from a live take show will make you hear it anew. Entwistle plays his bass like an elec­tric lead, dou­bling the drums some­times, oth­er times mim­ic­k­ing the vocals. He plays triplets and runs. He zooms up the neck, slides down, arpeg­giates, the lot. It’s thick. Just hit play.

As some YouTube wag points out, it’s some­thing of a bass play­er joke come to life at the end, where Entwistle leaves his bass onstage and walks off, while a girl rush­es out of the audi­ence to embrace the lead singer. Such is life in a band.

From the same shoot, you can also check out his iso­lat­ed bass from “Baba O’Reilly.” Entwistle has a three-note riff to work with. He stays true to it while fill­ing in spaces here and there with dis­tor­tion turned way up. At the end he has a sip of (I assume) water and looks about as excit­ed as when he start­ed.

In the mid-nineties, Entwistle was inter­viewed for a book on drum­mer Kei­th Moon. Author Tony Fletch­er caught him in an hon­est mood:

“I wast­ed my whole fuck­ing career on The Who,” he said between gulps of Remy Mar­tin brandy, his favourite tip­ple. “Com­plete fuck­ing waste of time. I should be a mul­ti-mil­lion­aire. I should be retired by now. I’ll be known as an inno­v­a­tive bass play­er. But that doesn’t help get my swim­ming pool rebuilt and let me sit on my arse watch­ing TV all day. I wouldn’t want to, but I’d like the chance to be able to.”

Not all rock bands con­sist of best friends, and some are down­right ran­corous. But that’s often what brings out the best in peo­ple. So as you gaze at Entwistle sti­fling a yawn dur­ing these two clips, con­sid­er his con­fes­sion and enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Neu­ro­science of Bass: New Study Explains Why Bass Instru­ments Are Fun­da­men­tal to Music

Lis­ten to Grace Slick’s Hair-Rais­ing Vocals in the Iso­lat­ed Track for “White Rab­bit” (1967)

Lis­ten to Fred­die Mer­cury and David Bowie on the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for the Queen Hit ‘Under Pres­sure,’ 1981

What Makes Flea Such an Amaz­ing Bass Play­er? A Video Essay Breaks Down His Style

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.

People Pose in Uncanny Alignment with Iconic Album Covers: Discover The Sleeveface Project

We’ve all heard a great deal over the past twen­ty years or so about the death of the album. This talk seems to have begun with the emer­gence of the down­load­able indi­vid­ual song, a tech­nol­o­gy that would final­ly allow us con­sumers to pur­chase only the tracks we want to hear and avoid pay­ing full price for “filler.” But against these odds, the long-play­ing album has per­sist­ed: artists still record them and lis­ten­ers, at least ded­i­cat­ed lis­ten­ers, still buy them, some­times even on vinyl.

Some­how the album has remained cul­tur­al­ly rel­e­vant, and a fair bit of the cred­it must go to its cov­er. It did­n’t take long after the intro­duc­tion of the 12-inch, 33 1/3‑RPM vinyl record in 1948 for the mar­ket­ing pur­pos­es of its large out­er sleeve to become evi­dent, and the past 71 years have pro­duced many a mem­o­rable image in that form. Few plat­forms could be as rep­re­sen­ta­tive of our dig­i­tal age as Insta­gram, but it is on Insta­gram that the album cov­er has recent­ly received homage from across the globe.

Sleeve­face is an amus­ing par­tic­i­pa­to­ry pho­to project in which peo­ple from all over the world strate­gi­cal­ly pose with match­ing album cov­ers,” writes Laugh­ing Squid’s Lori Dorn, “cre­at­ing the illu­sion that the orig­i­nal pic­ture is com­plete.”

Browse the tags #sleeve­face and #sleeve­face­sun­day (for every­thing on the inter­net even­tu­al­ly gets its day) on Insta­gram and you’ll see a vari­ety of trib­ute pos­es, some of them uncan­ni­ly well-aligned, to musi­cians whose faces we all know not least because they’ve appeared on icon­ic album cov­ers: Bruce Spring­steen to Bob Mar­ley, Simon and Gar­funkel to Iggy and the Stooges, Leonard Cohen to Fred­die Mer­cury, Janis Joplin to Adele.

All those famous names have under­gone the sleeve­face treat­ment, and quite a few of them have under­gone it more than once. Many of us have grown famil­iar indeed with these albums, and sure­ly even those of us who’ve nev­er lis­tened to them start-to-fin­ish prob­a­bly know at least a cou­ple of their songs. But even if you’ve nev­er heard so much as a mea­sure of any of them, you’ve almost cer­tain­ly seen their cov­ers — and may well, at one time or anoth­er, have been tempt­ed to hold them up in front of your own face to see how they lined up. Pop­u­lar music shows us how much we have in com­mon, but so does its pack­ag­ing.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Enter the Cov­er Art Archive: A Mas­sive Col­lec­tion of 800,000 Album Cov­ers from the 1950s through 2018

Film­mak­er Michel Gondry Brings Clas­sic Album Cov­ers to Life in a Visu­al­ly-Packed Com­mer­cial: Pur­ple Rain, Beg­gars Ban­quet, Nev­er­mind & More

The Impos­si­bly Cool Album Cov­ers of Blue Note Records: Meet the Cre­ative Team Behind These Icon­ic Designs

Clas­sic Jazz Album Cov­ers Ani­mat­ed & Brought to Life

The Ground­break­ing Art of Alex Stein­weiss, Father of Record Cov­er Design

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.

Philosopher Portraits: Famous Philosophers Painted in the Style of Influential Artists

Lud­wig Wittgenstein/Piet Mon­dri­an:

Ludwig Wittgenstein & Piet Mondrian

What do the Aus­tri­an-British philoso­pher Lud­wig Wittgen­stein and the Dutch painter Piet Mon­dri­an have in com­mon? For philoso­pher and artist Renée Jor­gensen Bolinger, the two have sim­i­lar beliefs about the log­ic of space.

“Many of Mon­dri­an’s pieces explore the rela­tion­ships between adja­cent spaces,” says Bolinger “and in par­tic­u­lar the for­ma­tive role of each on the bound­aries and pos­si­bil­i­ties of the oth­er. I based this paint­ing [see above] off of Wittgen­stein’s Trac­ta­tus, in which he devel­ops a the­o­ry of mean­ing ground­ed in the idea that propo­si­tions have mean­ing only inso­far as they con­strain the ways the world could be; a mean­ing­ful propo­si­tion is thus very like one of Mon­dri­an’s col­or squares, form­ing a bound­ary and lim­it­ing the pos­si­ble con­fig­u­ra­tions of the adja­cent spaces.”

An Assis­tant Pro­fes­sor at Prince­ton, Bolinger stud­ied paint­ing a Bio­la Uni­ver­si­ty before mak­ing phi­los­o­phy her sec­ond major. “I actu­al­ly came to phi­los­o­phy quite late in my col­lege career,” Bolinger says, “only adding the major in my junior year. I was for­tu­nate to have two par­tic­u­lar­ly excel­lent and philo­soph­ic art teach­ers, Jonathan Puls and Jonathan Ander­son, who con­vinced me that my two pas­sions were not mutu­al­ly exclu­sive, and encour­aged me to pur­sue both as I began my grad­u­ate edu­ca­tion.”

Bolinger now works pri­mar­i­ly on the phi­los­o­phy of lan­guage, with side inter­ests in log­ic, epis­te­mol­o­gy, mind and polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy. She con­tin­ues to paint. We asked her how she rec­on­ciles her two pas­sions, which seem to occu­py oppo­site sides of the mind. “I do work in ana­lyt­ic phi­los­o­phy,” she says, “but it’s only half true that phi­los­o­phy and paint­ing engage oppo­site sides of the mind. The sort of real­ist draw­ing and paint­ing that I do is all about ana­lyz­ing the rela­tion­ships between the lines, shapes and col­or tones, and so still very left-brain. Nev­er­the­less, it engages the mind in a dif­fer­ent way than do the syl­lo­gisms of ana­lyt­ic phi­los­o­phy. I find that the two types of men­tal exer­tion com­ple­ment each oth­er well, each serv­ing as a pro­duc­tive break from the oth­er.”

Bolinger has cre­at­ed a series of philoso­pher por­traits, each one pair­ing a philoso­pher with an artist, or art style, in an intrigu­ing way. In addi­tion to Wittgen­stein, she paint­ed ten philoso­phers in her first series, many of them by request. They can all be seen on her web site, where high qual­i­ty prints can be ordered.

G.E.M. Anscombe/Jackson Pol­lock:

G.E.M. Anscombe & Jackson Pollock

Bolinger says she paired the British ana­lyt­ic philoso­pher Eliz­a­beth Anscombe with the Amer­i­can abstract painter Jack­son Pol­lock for two rea­sons: “First, the loose style of Pol­lock­’s action paint­ing fits the argu­men­ta­tive (and orga­ni­za­tion­al) style of Wittgen­stein’s Philo­soph­i­cal Inves­ti­ga­tions, which Anscombe helped to edit and was instru­men­tal in pub­lish­ing. Sec­ond, her pri­ma­ry field of work, in which she wrote a sem­i­nal text, is phi­los­o­phy of action, which has obvi­ous con­nec­tions to the themes present in any of Pol­lock­’s action paint­ings.”

Got­t­lob Frege/Vincent Van Gogh:

Gottlob Frege & Van Gogh

Bolinger paired the Ger­man logi­cian, math­e­mati­cian and philoso­pher Got­t­lob Frege with the Dutch painter Vin­cent Van Gogh as a tongue-in-cheek ref­er­ence to Van Gogh’s famous paint­ing The Star­ry Night and Frege’s puz­zle con­cern­ing iden­ti­ty state­ments such as “Hes­pe­rus is Phos­pho­rus,” or “the evening star is iden­ti­cal to the morn­ing star.”

Bertrand Russell/Art Deco:

Bertrand Russell & Art Deco

Bolinger paint­ed the British logi­cian and philoso­pher Bertrand Rus­sell in the Art Deco style. “This pair­ing is a bit more about the gestalt, and a bit hard­er to artic­u­late,” says Bolinger. “The sim­pli­fi­ca­tion of form and reduc­tion to angled planes that takes place in the back­ground of this Art Deco piece are meant to cohere with Rus­sel­l’s locial atom­ism (the reduc­tion of com­plex log­i­cal propo­si­tions to their fun­da­men­tal log­i­cal ‘atoms’).”

Kurt Gödel/Art Nou­veau:

Kurt Godel & Art Nouveau

Bolinger paired the Aus­tri­an logi­cian Kurt Gödel with Art Nou­veau. “The Art Nou­veau move­ment devel­oped around the theme of mech­a­niza­tion and the rep­e­ti­tion of forms,” says Bolinger, “and cen­tral­ly involves a del­i­cate bal­ance between organ­ic shapes — typ­i­cal­ly a fig­ure that dom­i­nates the por­trait — and schema­tized or abstract­ed pat­terns, often derived from organ­ic shapes, but made uni­form and repet­i­tive (often seen in the flower motifs that orna­ment most Art Nou­veau por­traits). I paired this style with Kurt Gödel because his work was ded­i­cat­ed to defin­ing com­putabil­i­ty in terms of recur­sive func­tions, and using the notion to prove the Com­plete­ness and Incom­plete­ness the­o­rems.”

To see more of Renée Jor­gensen Bolinger’s philoso­pher por­traits, click here to vis­it her site.

Note: This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site back in 2013.

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:

A His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy in 81 Video Lec­tures: From Ancient Greece to Mod­ern Times

Pho­tog­ra­phy of Lud­wig Wittgen­stein Released by Archives at Cam­bridge

180+ Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Leonardo da Vinci’s Elegant Design for a Perpetual Motion Machine

Is per­pet­u­al motion pos­si­ble? In the­o­ry… I have no idea…. In prac­tice, so far at least, the answer has been a per­pet­u­al no. As Nicholas Bar­ri­al writes at Mak­ery, “in order to suc­ceed,” a per­pet­u­al motion machine “should be free of fric­tion, run in a vac­u­um cham­ber and be total­ly silent” since “sound equates to ener­gy loss.” Try­ing to sat­is­fy these con­di­tions in a noisy, entrop­ic phys­i­cal world may seem like a fool’s errand, akin to turn­ing base met­als to gold. Yet the hun­dreds of sci­en­tists and engi­neers who have tried have been any­thing but fools.

The long list of con­tenders includes famed 12th-cen­tu­ry Indi­an math­e­mati­cian Bhāskara II, also-famed 17th-cen­tu­ry Irish sci­en­tist Robert Boyle, and a cer­tain Ital­ian artist and inven­tor who needs no intro­duc­tion. It will come as no sur­prise to learn that Leonar­do da Vin­ci turned his hand to solv­ing the puz­zle of per­pet­u­al motion. But it seems, in doing so, he “may have been a dirty, rot­ten hyp­ocrite,” Ross Pomery jokes at Real Clear Sci­ence. Sur­vey­ing the many failed attempts to make a machine that ran for­ev­er, he pub­licly exclaimed, “Oh, ye seek­ers after per­pet­u­al motion, how many vain chimeras have you pur­sued? Go and take your place with the alchemists.”

In pri­vate, how­ev­er, as Michio Kaku writes in Physics of the Impos­si­ble, Leonar­do “made inge­nious sketch­es in his note­books of self-pro­pelling per­pet­u­al motion machines, includ­ing a cen­trifu­gal pump and a chim­ney jack used to turn a roast­ing skew­er over a fire.”  He also drew up plans for a wheel that would the­o­ret­i­cal­ly run for­ev­er. (Leonar­do claimed he tried only to prove it couldn’t be done.) Inspired by a device invent­ed by a con­tem­po­rary Ital­ian poly­math named Mar­i­ano di Jacopo, known as Tac­co­la (“the jack­daw”), the artist-engi­neer refined this pre­vi­ous attempt in his own ele­gant design.

Leonar­do drew sev­er­al vari­ants of the wheel in his note­books. Despite the fact that the wheel didn’t work—and that he appar­ent­ly nev­er thought it would—the design has become, Bar­ri­al notes, “THE most pop­u­lar per­pet­u­al motion machine on DIY and 3D print­ing sites.” (One mak­er charm­ing­ly com­ments, in frus­tra­tion, “Per­pet­u­al motion doesn’t seem to work, what am I doing wrong?”) The gif at the top, from the British Library, ani­mates one of Leonardo’s many ver­sions of unbal­anced wheels. This detailed study can be found in folio 44v of the Codex Arun­del, one of sev­er­al col­lec­tions of Leonardo’s note­books that have been dig­i­tized and made pub­licly avail­able online.

In his book The Inno­va­tors Behind Leonar­do, Plinio Inno­cen­zi describes these devices, con­sist­ing of “12 half-moon-shaped adja­cent chan­nels which allow the free move­ment of 12 small balls as a func­tion of the wheel’s rota­tion…. At one point dur­ing the rota­tion, an imbal­ance will be cre­at­ed where­by more balls will find them­selves on one side than the oth­er,” cre­at­ing a force that con­tin­ues to pro­pel the wheel for­ward indef­i­nite­ly. “Leonar­do rep­ri­mand­ed that despite the fact that every­thing might seem to work, ‘you will find the impos­si­bil­i­ty of motion above believed.’”

Leonar­do also sketched and described a per­pet­u­al motion device using flu­id mechan­ics, invent­ing the “self-fill­ing flask” over two-hun­dred years before Robert Boyle tried to make per­pet­u­al motion with this method. This design also didn’t work. In real­i­ty, there are too many phys­i­cal forces work­ing against the dream of per­pet­u­al motion. Few of the attempts, how­ev­er, have appeared in as ele­gant a form as Leonardo’s. See the ful­ly scanned Codex Arun­del at the British Library.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Com­plete Dig­i­ti­za­tion of Leonar­do Da Vinci’s Codex Atlanti­cus, the Largest Exist­ing Col­lec­tion of His Draw­ings & Writ­ings

Leonar­do da Vinci’s Vision­ary Note­books Now Online: Browse 570 Dig­i­tized Pages

Leonar­do da Vinci’s Ear­li­est Note­books Now Dig­i­tized and Made Free Online: Explore His Inge­nious Draw­ings, Dia­grams, Mir­ror Writ­ing & More

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

Philip K. Dick Tarot Cards: A Tarot Deck Modeled After the Visionary Sci-Fi Writer’s Inner World

What does Philip K. Dick have in com­mon with Jorge Luis Borges, Her­mann Hesse, and John Cage? Fans of all three twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry vision­ar­ies will have much to say on the mat­ter of what deep res­o­nances exist between their bod­ies of work and the world­views that pro­duced them. But they can’t over­look the fact that Dick, Borges, Hesse, and Cage all, at one time or anoth­er, enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly con­sult­ed the ancient Chi­nese div­ina­tion text known as the I Ching. Also known as The Book of Changes, it became a must-have coun­ter­cul­tur­al vol­ume in the 1960s, and the words of guid­ance it pro­vid­ed, in all their open­ness to inter­pre­ta­tion, sure­ly influ­enced no small num­ber of deci­sions made in that era.

What the I Ching had to say cer­tain­ly influ­enced the deci­sions of Philip K. Dick, in life as well as in writ­ing. Not only did he use the book to write The Man in the High Cas­tle, his 1962 nov­el por­tray­ing a world in which the Axis pow­ers won World War II, he also includ­ed it as a plot ele­ment in the sto­ry itself.

And speak­ing of alter­nate his­to­ries, we might ask: could Dick have writ­ten The Man in the High Cas­tle with­out the I Ching? Or could he have writ­ten it using anoth­er div­ina­tion tool, per­haps one from the West rather than the East? What would the nov­el have looked like if writ­ten while har­ness­ing the per­cep­tive pow­er of tarot, the 15th-cen­tu­ry Euro­pean card game whose decks also have a long his­to­ry as win­dows onto human des­tiny?

Recent­ly the world of tarot, the world of the I Ching, and the world of Philip K. Dick col­lid­ed, result­ing in The Fool’s Jour­ney of Philip K. Dick, a tarot deck pub­lished by Wide Books. “PKD schol­ar Ted Hand and tarot artist Christo­pher Wilkey have brought togeth­er a new vision of tarot and the great works of Philip K. Dick,” says Wide Books’ site. “Ide­al for advanced stu­dents of tarot as well as novices to the I Ching,” the deck “takes the seek­er through an ini­ti­a­tion into the life and writ­ings of one of the great­est writ­ers of recent times.” In addi­tion to its 80 cards, each draw­ing from some ele­ment of Dick­’s body of work, the deck includes “four rule cards for two I Ching inspired card games and an eight-sided fold­ing book­let about tarot as Gnos­tic Alle­go­ry, with begin­ning exer­cis­es con­trast­ing tarot to the I Ching.”

Two of the games pay trib­ute to par­tic­u­lar Dick nov­els: A Maze of Death and its “domi­no-type game” that “famil­iar­izes play­ers with the tri­grams of which I Ching hexa­grams are com­posed,” and Ubik, which has “play­ers either hop­ing to avoid accu­mu­lat­ing entropy or try­ing to cap­ture all the ener­gy you can from the deck and oth­er play­ers to be the last stand­ing at the end of the game.” If that sounds like a good time to you, you’ll have to reg­is­ter your inter­est in order­ing a copy of The Fool’s Jour­ney of Philip K. Dick on Wide Books’ con­tact form, since the ini­tial run has sold out. That won’t come as a sur­prise to Dick­’s fans, who know the addic­tive pow­er of one glimpse into his inner world, with its rich mix­ture of the super­nat­ur­al, the sci­en­tif­ic, the para­nor­mal, and the para­noid. But what kind of books will they use his tarot deck to write?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the Sola-Bus­ca Tarot Deck, the Ear­li­est Com­plete Set of Tarot Cards (1490)

H.R. Giger’s Tarot Cards: The Swiss Artist, Famous for His Design Work on Alien, Takes a Jour­ney into the Occult

The Tarot Card Deck Designed by Sal­vador Dalí

The Thoth Tarot Deck Designed by Famed Occultist Aleis­ter Crow­ley

Twin Peaks Tarot Cards Now Avail­able as 78-Card Deck

Robert Crumb Illus­trates Philip K. Dick’s Infa­mous, Hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry Meet­ing with God (1974)

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.

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