Explore the Beautiful Pages of the 1902 Japanese Design Magazine Shin-Bijutsukai: European Modernism Meets Traditional Japanese Design

We read much about the role of Japanism in the art of late 19th Europe and North Amer­i­ca. “The craze for all things Japan­ese,” writes the Art Insti­tute of Chica­go, “was launched in 1854 when Amer­i­can Com­modore Matthew Per­ry forced Japan to recom­mence inter­na­tion­al trade after two cen­turies of vir­tu­al iso­la­tion.” Britain, the Con­ti­nent, and the U.S. were awash in Japan­ese art and arti­facts and ideas about the pre-indus­tri­al puri­ty of Japan­ese forms pro­lif­er­at­ed. “West­ern­ers were… drawn to tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese artis­tic expres­sion because of its ties to the nat­ur­al world. Japan­ese artists in all media treat­ed the sub­jects of birds, flow­ers, land­scapes, and the sea­sons.”

West­ern­ers like Louis Com­fort Tiffany emu­lat­ed these pat­terns in their designs, and they appeared in the work of van Gogh and Gau­guin. We may be famil­iar with how much the admi­ra­tion for Japan­ese wood­cuts, fur­ni­ture, archi­tec­ture, and poet­ry influ­enced Impres­sion­ism, the Arts and Crafts Move­ment, and ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry Mod­ernism.

We may not know that the influ­ence was mutu­al, with Japan­ese artists devel­op­ing their own forms of Art Deco, Euro­pean-influ­enced Mod­ernism and a nation­al­ist Japan­ese Arts and Crafts Move­ment called “Mingei” that was heav­i­ly inspired by ear­li­er British artists who had them­selves been inspired by the Japan­ese.

An ear­li­er exam­ple of the cross-cul­tur­al exchange in the arts between Europe and Japan can be seen here in these prints from Shin-Bijut­sukai (新美術海)… a Japan­ese design mag­a­zine that was edit­ed by illus­tra­tor and design­er Korin Furuya (1875–1910),” notes Spoon and Tam­a­go. These images come from a col­lec­tion of issues from 1901 to 1902, bound togeth­er in a huge 353-page design book (view it online at the Inter­net Archive or the Pub­lic Domain Review). We can see in the tra­di­tion­al images of flow­ers and birds the influ­ence of indus­tri­al design as well as “hints of art nou­veau and oth­er influ­ences of the time” from Euro­pean graph­ic arts.

There was a reluc­tance among many Japan­ese artists to acknowl­edge their debts to West­ern artists, a symp­tom, writes Wendy Jones Nakan­ishi, pro­fes­sor at Shikoku Gakuin Uni­ver­si­ty, of “the ambiva­lence felt by many Japan­ese towards the rapid west­ern­iza­tion of their coun­try at the cost of the loss of indige­nous cul­tur­al prac­tices.” Despite the enor­mous pop­u­lar­i­ty of Japan­ese art in Europe, “the ambiva­lence was mutu­al.” Many appeared to feel that “the sub­tle beau­ty of the Japan­ese art threat­ened Euro­pean claims to cul­tur­al suprema­cy” when it appeared in Vic­to­ri­an exhi­bi­tions in Lon­don and else­where.

These fears aside, the meet­ing of many cul­tures in the exchanges between Europe and Japan helped to revi­tal­ize the arts and shake off stag­nant clas­si­cal tra­di­tions while respond­ing in dynam­ic ways to rapid indus­tri­al­iza­tion. The empha­sis on folk and dec­o­ra­tive art, brought into the realm of fine art, was cul­tur­al­ly trans­for­ma­tive in Europe. In Japan, the styl­iza­tions of mod­ernist paint­ing dis­rupt­ed tra­di­tion­al scenes and tech­niques, as in the wood­block prints here and in the sev­er­al hun­dred more in var­i­ous issues of the month­ly mag­a­zine. See them all at Pub­lic Domain Review.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Down­load Vin­cent van Gogh’s Col­lec­tion of 500 Japan­ese Prints, Which Inspired Him to Cre­ate “the Art of the Future”

1,000+ His­toric Japan­ese Illus­trat­ed Books Dig­i­tized & Put Online by the Smith­son­ian: From the Edo & Meji Eras (1600–1912)

Down­load 2,500 Beau­ti­ful Wood­block Prints and Draw­ings by Japan­ese Mas­ters (1600–1915)

Adver­tise­ments from Japan’s Gold­en Age of Art Deco

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

A Chilling Time-Lapse Video Documents Every COVID-19 Death on a Global Map: From January to June 2020

The sto­ry of the Coro­n­avirus, at least in the US, has swung between a num­ber of rhetor­i­cal tics now com­mon to all of our dis­course. Called a “hoax,” then giv­en sev­er­al racist nick­names and dis­missed as a “noth­ing burg­er,” the pandemic—currently at around 3 mil­lion cas­es in the coun­try, with a U.S. death toll over 130,000—has now become the “new nor­mal,” a phrase that pops up every­where you look.

“This fram­ing is invit­ing,” writes Chime Asonye at the World Eco­nom­ic Forum. It con­veys “the idea that our present is okay because nor­mal is reg­u­lar,” and we’re all sup­posed to be get­ting back to reg­u­lar life, accord­ing to the pow­ers that be, who don’t seem par­tic­u­lar­ly trou­bled by the dead, sick, and dying or the con­tin­ued threat to pub­lic health.

But pre­tend­ing things are nor­mal is sim­ply a form of a denial, a mal­adap­tive and unhealthy response to trau­ma as much as to dis­ease. “Allow­ing our­selves to cope means not nor­mal­iz­ing our sit­u­a­tion,” writes Asonye, “but giv­ing our­selves the time to tru­ly process it.” We are all liv­ing in the midst of pro­found loss—of loved ones, liveli­hoods, future plans and present joys. Asonye adds:

Psy­chol­o­gists advise that it’s impor­tant to iden­ti­fy the loss­es we are feel­ing and to hon­our the grief sur­round­ing us through meth­ods like med­i­ta­tion, com­mu­ni­cat­ing our strug­gle, and express­ing our­selves through art or by keep­ing a jour­nal. In uncer­tain times, the ‘new nor­mal’ frame rein­forces an under­stand­ing that the world and our emo­tions should by now have set­tled. Sur­round­ed by uncer­tain­ty, it’s okay to admit that things are not nor­mal. It’s okay to allow our­selves to grieve or to be scared. It’s okay not to be com­fort­able with what is going on.

How do we process if we can­not admit that there is a problem—a mas­sive prob­lem that requires our lives to change, even if we’re feel­ing fatigued and worn out? Though we may have grown cyn­i­cal­ly accus­tomed to the cal­lous, cor­rupt response of cer­tain gov­ern­ments to human suf­fer­ing, the “over­whelm­ing scale” of the pan­dem­ic, as James Beck­with writes on YouTube, marks the coro­n­avirus as decid­ed­ly not nor­mal. It may be the kind of cat­a­stro­phe the world has not wit­nessed in over a cen­tu­ry.

Inspired by artist Isao Hashimoto’s “Time-Lapse Map of Every Nuclear Explo­sion Since 1945,” which we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here, Beck­with used the same visu­al pre­sen­ta­tion to map the over 500,000 lives lost to the virus since the first Jan­u­ary out­break in Chi­na. “The virus grows, con­tin­u­ing to work its way through­out the world until the end of June—where this piece ends but the real virus has not,” he writes. “It is like­ly a sequel will need to be made.” Though he admits the ani­ma­tion “may be upset­ting to some peo­ple,” Beck­with, like Asonye, rec­og­nizes the impor­tance of admit­ting the full scope.

Watch­ing the virus spread, and kill, over the past six months hits much hard­er than read­ing the dry facts. The video is ded­i­cat­ed to “every per­son that trag­i­cal­ly lost their lives to COVID-19.” Beck­with would like it “to be under­stood and seen by as many peo­ple around the world as pos­si­ble,” so that we can all have a shared under­stand­ing of what we’re fac­ing togeth­er (and maybe come to an agree­ment that this can­not be the “new nor­mal”). “Some­times there are no words for ter­ri­ble events like this,” Beck­with writes, but he would like help trans­lat­ing the video descrip­tion into oth­er lan­guages. You can con­tact him via his YouTube or Insta­gram chan­nels to vol­un­teer.

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

The His­to­ry of the 1918 Flu Pan­dem­ic, “The Dead­liest Epi­dem­ic of All Time”: Three Free Lec­tures from The Great Cours­es

Watch “Coro­n­avirus Out­break: What You Need to Know,” and the 24-Lec­ture Course “An Intro­duc­tion to Infec­tious Dis­eases,” Both Free from The Great Cours­es

Inter­ac­tive Web Site Tracks the Glob­al Spread of the Coro­n­avirus: Cre­at­ed and Sup­port­ed by Johns Hop­kins

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

Salvador Dalí Explains Why He Was a “Bad Painter” and Contributed “Nothing” to Art (1986)

Not so very long ago, Sal­vador Dalí was the most famous liv­ing painter in the world. When the BBC’s Are­na came to shoot an episode about him in 1986, they asked him what that exalt­ed state felt like. “I don’t know if I am the most famous painter in the world,” Dalí responds, “because lots of the peo­ple who ask for my auto­graph in the street don’t know if I’m a singer, a film star, a mad­man, a writer — they don’t know what I am.” He was, in one sense or anoth­er, most of those things and oth­ers besides. But we can safe­ly say, more than thir­ty years after his death, that Dalí will be remem­bered first for his visu­al art, with its vast seas and skies, its impos­si­ble beasts, its melt­ing clocks. And what did Dalí him­self believe he had con­tributed to art?

“Noth­ing,” he says. “Absolute­ly noth­ing, because, as I’ve always said, I’m a very bad painter. Because I’m too intel­li­gent to be a good painter. To be a good painter you’ve got to be a bit stu­pid, with the excep­tion of Velázquez, who is a genius, whose tal­ent sur­pass­es the art of paint­ing.” In oth­er words, when Dalí’s ever-present detrac­tors said he was no Velázquez, Dalí’s whole­heart­ed­ly agreed.

Over the past few decades, appre­ci­a­tion of the dis­tinc­tive com­bi­na­tion of vision and tech­nique on dis­play in Dalí’s paint­ings has won him more offi­cial respect (as well as a lav­ish new col­lec­tion pub­lished in book form by Taschen), but the debate about to what extent he was a true artist and to what extent a cal­cu­lat­ed­ly eccen­tric self-pro­mot­er will nev­er ful­ly sim­mer down.

Dalí also claimed to owe his life to paint­ing bad­ly. “The day Dalí paints a pic­ture as good as Velázquez, Ver­meer, or Raphael, or music like Mozart,” he says, “the next week he’ll die. So I pre­fer to paint bad pic­tures and live longer.” That he had already entered his ninth decade by the time Are­na came call­ing sug­gests that this strat­e­gy might have been effec­tive, though he was­n’t with­out his health trou­bles. In his first pub­lic appear­ance after hav­ing had a pace­mak­er implant­ed that same year, he declared that “When you are a genius, you do not have the right to die, because we are nec­es­sary for the progress of human­i­ty.” Dalí’s kept his askew arro­gance to the end, even through the con­tro­ver­sial final years that saw him sign off on the large-scale pro­duc­tion of shod­dy lith­o­graphs of his paint­ings. About the peo­ple who made them and the peo­ple who bought them, Dalí had only this to say: “They deserve each oth­er.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Q: Sal­vador Dalí, Are You a Crack­pot? A: No, I’m Just Almost Crazy (1969)

Sal­vador Dalí Strolls onto The Dick Cavett Show with an Anteater, Then Talks About Dreams & Sur­re­al­ism, the Gold­en Ratio & More (1970)

When Sal­vador Dali Met Sig­mund Freud, and Changed Freud’s Mind About Sur­re­al­ism (1938)

When The Sur­re­al­ists Expelled Sal­vador Dalí for “the Glo­ri­fi­ca­tion of Hit­ler­ian Fas­cism” (1934)

A Soft Self-Por­trait of Sal­vador Dali, Nar­rat­ed by the Great Orson Welles

The Most Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Sal­vador Dalí’s Paint­ings Pub­lished in a Beau­ti­ful New Book by Taschen: Includes Nev­er-Seen-Before Works

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Ennio Morricone (RIP) and Sergio Leone Pose Together in Their Primary School Year Book, 1937

Lit­tle did they know where life would take them–and how their futures would be inter­twined.

A great find by @ddoniolvalcroze.…

The Film Music of Ennio Morricone (RIP) Beautifully Performed by the Danish National Symphony Orchestra Play: “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” & Much More

What we think of as “film music” today is a cre­ation of only a few inven­tive and orig­i­nal com­posers, one few­er of whom walks the Earth as of yes­ter­day. Though Ennio Mor­ri­cone will be remem­bered first for his asso­ci­a­tion with spaghet­ti west­ern mas­ter Ser­gio Leone, his career in film scores spanned half a cen­tu­ry and encom­passed work for some of the most acclaimed direc­tors of that peri­od: his coun­try­men like Michelan­ge­lo Anto­nioni, Bernar­do Bertoluc­ci, Pier Pao­lo Pasoli­ni, but also such com­mand­ing Hol­ly­wood film­mak­ers as John Hus­ton, Ter­rence Mal­ick, and Quentin Taran­ti­no. Mor­ri­cone did­n’t just write music to add to their films; he became a col­lab­o­ra­tor, with­out whose work their films would be dif­fi­cult to imag­ine.

The result, in pic­tures from L’Avven­tu­ra to Salò to Days of Heav­en to The Untouch­ables to The Hate­ful Eight, is a union of the arts that tran­scends indi­vid­ual cul­tures. It does­n’t mat­ter what coun­try you come from, what gen­er­a­tion you belong to, whether you enjoy West­erns or indeed cin­e­ma itself: you know the theme music Mor­ri­cone wrote for Leone’s The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly the moment you hear it. 

Whether or not you’ve seen the movie, you’ll appre­ci­ate the espe­cial­ly rich per­for­mance by the Dan­ish Nation­al Sym­pho­ny Orches­tra at the top of the post, part of a 2018 con­cert called The Mor­ri­cone Duel, a cel­e­bra­tion of “a wide range of west­ern movies and mafia movies reflect­ing dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives on an Ital­ian-Amer­i­can movie and film music style.”

The Mor­ri­cone Duel’s Youtube playlist includes the Dan­ish Nation­al Sym­pho­ny Orches­tra’s ren­di­tions of pieces from oth­er Mor­ri­cone-Leone col­lab­o­ra­tions like A Fist­ful of Dol­lars, For a Few Dol­lars MoreOnce Upon a Time in the West, and Once Upon a Time in Amer­i­ca. Though the evening also includ­ed pieces from The Untouch­ables and Hen­ri Verneuil’s The Sicil­ian Clan, many in the audi­ence must have thrilled most when the musi­cians launched into the over­ture from The Hate­ful Eight. They could hardy be more ardent Mor­ri­cone fans than Taran­ti­no him­self, who used pieces from Mor­ri­cone’s exist­ing Spaghet­ti-west­ern sound­tracks in Kill Bill and Inglou­ri­ous Bas­ter­ds before mak­ing a west­ern of his own, which would­n’t have been com­plete with­out orig­i­nal Mor­ri­cone music. The Hate­ful Eight turned out to be Mor­ri­cone’s penul­ti­mate film score, but his influ­ence will res­onate through gen­er­a­tions of cin­e­ma to come — and out­last, no doubt, the west­ern and gang­ster gen­res them­selves.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear 5 Hours of Ennio Morricone’s Scores for Clas­sic West­ern Films: From Ser­gio Leone’s Spaghet­ti West­erns to Tarantino’s The Hate­ful Eight

How Ser­gio Leone Made Music an Actor in His Spaghet­ti West­erns, Cre­at­ing a Per­fect Har­mo­ny of Sound & Image

Ennio Morricone’s Icon­ic Song, “The Ecsta­sy of Gold,” Spell­bind­ing­ly Arranged for Theremin & Voice

Ukulele Orches­tra Per­forms Ennio Morricone’s Icon­ic West­ern Theme Song, “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.” And It’s Pret­ty Bril­liant

The Music in Quentin Tarantino’s Films: Hear a 5‑Hour, 100-Song Playlist

Why Mar­vel and Oth­er Hol­ly­wood Films Have Such Bland Music: Every Frame a Paint­ing Explains the Per­ils of the “Temp Score”

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Vintage Science Face Masks: Conquer the Pandemic with Science, Courtesy of Maria Popova’s BrainPickings

If you don’t floss or brush your teeth, they will rot and fall out. If you don’t eat fruits and veg­eta­bles, you will get scurvy or some oth­er hor­ri­ble dis­ease. If you don’t use pro­tec­tion… well, you know the rest. These are facts of life we most­ly accept if we care about our­selves and oth­ers because they are beyond dis­put­ing. But the idea of wear­ing a cloth mask when in pub­lic dur­ing a viral pan­dem­ic spread through droplets from the nose and mouth—a prac­tice endorsed by the CDC, the World Health Orga­ni­za­tion, sci­en­tists at Stan­ford, Johns Hop­kins, and pret­ty much every oth­er research uni­ver­si­ty—has become some kind of bizarre cul­ture war.

Maybe some walk around mask-less because they’ve inter­nal­ized the idea that the coro­n­avirus is “over,” despite the fact it’s spread­ing at around 50,000 new cas­es per day in the US, and poten­tial­ly head­ing toward dou­ble that num­ber. Maybe some feel it won’t affect them because they aren’t elder­ly or immuno­com­pro­mised, nev­er mind that virus­es mutate, and that the nov­el (mean­ing “new”) coro­n­avirus has already demon­strat­ed that it is far less dis­crim­i­nat­ing (in pure­ly bio­log­i­cal terms) than pre­vi­ous­ly thought. (In Flori­da, the medi­an age for COVID-19 has dropped from 65 to 37 years old.) Nev­er mind that spread­ing the virus, even if one is not per­son­al­ly at high risk, com­pro­mis­es every­body else.

Are masks uncom­fort­able, espe­cial­ly in hot, humid weath­er? Do they muf­fle speech and make it hard to have sat­is­fy­ing face-to-face inter­ac­tions? Well, yes. But con­sid­er your hour­long masked trip to the gro­cery store against the 12 or 24 or 48 or what­ev­er hour-long shifts med­ical per­son­nel are pulling in emer­gency depart­ments across the coun­try.

It real­ly is the least we can do. And we can do it in style—masks went from scarce, with armies of home­bound neigh­bors sewing home­ly stacks of them, to tru­ly over­abun­dant and fash­ion­able, on the rack of every gro­cery, phar­ma­cy, and con­ve­nience store. It couldn’t be eas­i­er.

If you’re con­cerned about look­ing like every oth­er masked weirdo out there, con­sid­er these masks cre­at­ed by Maria Popo­va of Brain Pick­ings, which she intro­duces with ref­er­ences to Rebec­ca Elson’s poem, “Anti­dotes to Fear of Death.” The sci­ence of pub­lic health may demand that we are grim­ly prac­ti­cal at the moment, but Popo­va wants to remind us that sci­en­tif­ic think­ing is equal­ly invest­ed in the expe­ri­ence of awe and the love of life. By wear­ing these masks, we can com­mu­ni­cate to oth­ers, those who may be feel­ing despon­dent over the sea of masked faces in pub­lic places, that there is beau­ty in the world and we can ful­ly expe­ri­ence if we get through this. Popova’s masks, print­ed and sold by Society6, illus­trate the won­ders of sci­en­tif­ic curios­i­ty with “won­drous cen­turies-old astro­nom­i­cal art and nat­ur­al his­to­ry illus­tra­tions.”

These include “trea­sures like the Solar Sys­tem quilt Ella Hard­ing Bak­er spent sev­en years craft­ing… gor­geous 18th-cen­tu­ry illus­tra­tions from the world’s first ency­clo­pe­dia of med­i­c­i­nal plantsaston­ish­ing draw­ings of celes­tial objects and phe­nom­e­na…trail­blaz­ing 18th-cen­tu­ry artist Sarah Stone’s stun­ning illus­tra­tions of exot­ic, endan­gered, and now-extinct ani­mals; some graph­i­cal­ly spec­tac­u­lar depic­tions of how nature works from a 19th-cen­tu­ry French physics text­book; Ernst Haeckel’s heart­break-foment­ed draw­ings of the oth­er­world­ly beau­ty of jel­ly­fish…William Sav­ille Kent’s pio­neer­ing artis­tic-sci­en­tif­ic effort to bring the world’s aware­ness and awe to the crea­tures of the Great Bar­ri­er Reef; and art from the Ger­man marine biol­o­gist Carl Chun’s epoch-mak­ing Cephalo­pod Atlas — the world’s first ency­clo­pe­dia of crea­tures of the deep.”

Society6 is donat­ing a por­tion of its pro­ceeds to World Cen­ter Kitchen, and Popo­va is donat­ing to The Nature Con­ser­van­cy. You can pur­chase your own vin­tage sci­ence illus­tra­tion mask here and see some of these illus­tra­tions in their orig­i­nal con­text at the links fur­ther down.

Anti­dotes to Fear of Death

Some­times as an anti­dote
To fear of death,
I eat the stars.

Those nights, lying on my back,
I suck them from the quench­ing dark
Til they are all, all inside me,
Pep­per hot and sharp.

Some­times, instead, I stir myself
Into a uni­verse still young,
Still warm as blood:

No out­er space, just space,
The light of all the not yet stars
Drift­ing like a bright mist,
And all of us, and every­thing
Already there
But uncon­strained by form.

And some­time it’s enough
To lie down here on earth
Beside our long ances­tral bones:

To walk across the cob­ble fields
Of our dis­card­ed skulls,
Each like a trea­sure, like a chrysalis,
Think­ing: what­ev­er left these husks
Flew off on bright wings.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Solar Sys­tem Quilt: In 1876, a Teacher Cre­ates a Hand­craft­ed Quilt to Use as a Teach­ing Aid in Her Astron­o­my Class

Ernst Haeckel’s Sub­lime Draw­ings of Flo­ra and Fau­na: The Beau­ti­ful Sci­en­tif­ic Draw­ings That Influ­enced Europe’s Art Nou­veau Move­ment (1889)

The Phe­nom­e­na of Physics Illus­trat­ed with Psy­che­del­ic Art in an Influ­en­tial 19th-Cen­tu­ry Text­book

The Bril­liant Col­ors of the Great Bar­ri­er Revealed in a His­toric Illus­trat­ed Book from 1893

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

The Ayn Rand Institute Takes a Loan from Paycheck Protection Program: Like Rand Herself, Her Followers Don’t Walk the Talk

ayn-rand-social-security

Image via YouTube, 1959 inter­view with Mike Wal­lace

Final­ly bow­ing to pub­lic pres­sure, the Trump admin­is­tra­tion has revealed which com­pa­nies received loans from the Pay­check Pro­tec­tion Pro­gram (PPP) cre­at­ed to sup­port small busi­ness­es dur­ing COVID-19. To no one’s sur­prise, the pub­lished list report­ed­ly includes a host of priv­i­leged enti­ties: the ship­ping busi­ness owned by Mitch McConnel­l’s wife Trans­porta­tion Sec­re­tary Elaine Chao; busi­ness­es asso­ci­at­ed with mem­bers of Con­gress (from both par­ties); the law firm of David Boies; elite pri­vate schools like Sid­well Friends and Saint Ann’s; Grover Norquist’s Anti-Tax Group; the law firm run by Trump’s long­time per­son­al lawyer, Marc E. Kasowitz; bil­lion­aire Kanye West’s com­pa­ny, Yeezy; the fine art stu­dio for mil­lion­aire sculp­tor Jeff Koons, a ven­ture that rais­es mon­ey for Trump’s cam­paign and the RNC, etc.

Add to the list the Ayn Rand Insti­tute–an orga­ni­za­tion named after Ayn Rand, the Russ­ian writer who exalt­ed the self-reliant indi­vid­ual and crit­i­cized social wel­fare pro­grams that sup­port the vul­ner­a­ble. As she wrote in The Virtue of Self­ish­ness, “The right to life means that a man has the right to sup­port his life by his own work (on any eco­nom­ic lev­el, as high as his abil­i­ty will car­ry him); it does not mean that oth­ers must pro­vide him with the neces­si­ties of life.” In short, if you can’t make it, you’re on your own.

Rand’s polit­i­cal the­o­ry col­laps­es when it con­fronts every­day real­i­ty. At the end of her own life, Rand, suf­fer­ing from lung can­cer, had to grudg­ing­ly rely on social secu­ri­ty and medicare to make ends meet. Now, reports Reuters, the insti­tute bear­ing her name has request­ed (and appar­ent­ly received) “a Pay­check Pro­tec­tion Pro­gram (PPP) loan of up to $1 mil­lion.” All while show­ing no grat­i­tude to the Amer­i­can tax­pay­er. The Ayn Rand Insti­tute deemed the loan “par­tial resti­tu­tion for gov­ern­ment-inflict­ed loss­es.” (Also see their lat­est jus­ti­fi­ca­tion here.) Some will con­sid­er that spin–a way to jus­ti­fy accept­ing gov­ern­ment largesse.

Watch­ing Ayn Rand talk below, it seems like a prin­ci­pled Ran­di­an would have gone, hat in hand, to a pri­vate char­i­ty instead.

via Lithub

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When Ayn Rand Col­lect­ed Social Secu­ri­ty & Medicare, After Years of Oppos­ing Ben­e­fit Pro­grams

Christo­pher Hitchens Dis­miss­es the Cult of Ayn Rand: There’s No “Need to Have Essays Advo­cat­ing Self­ish­ness Among Human Beings; It Requires No Rein­force­ment”

The Simp­sons Take on Ayn Rand: See the Show’s Satire of The Foun­tain­head and Objec­tivist Phi­los­o­phy

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Ella Fitzgerald’s Lost Interview about Racism & Segregation: Recorded in 1963, It’s Never Been Heard Until Now

When Ella Fitzger­ald took the stage for the first time at the Apol­lo The­ater in Harlem, “we heard a sound so per­fect” that the entire the­ater went silent, says dancer and chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Nor­ma Miller. “You could hear a rat piss on cot­ton.” Fitzger­ald was 17 years old, and she had already faced severe racial dis­crim­i­na­tion. “Every­thing was race,” says Miller, describ­ing the de facto seg­re­ga­tion in Harlem in the 20s and 30s. “You couldn’t go out of your zone… slav­ery is over, but you don’t have jobs. So the con­fine­ment meant you had to do for your­self.”

In 1917, a 2 year old Fitzger­ald had trav­eled with her moth­er and step­fa­ther from New­port News, Vir­ginia, where she was born, to Yonkers, New York. They were part of the Great Migra­tion that brought blues and jazz to North­ern cities. Fitzger­ald grew up sneak­ing into Harlem’s ball­rooms to hear Duke Elling­ton and Louis Arm­strong. Then at age 13, her moth­er died. Fitzger­ald was dev­as­tat­ed. She began skip­ping school and the police arrest­ed her for tru­an­cy and sent her to a reform school.

Black girls at the school, writes Nina Bern­stein in The New York Times, “were seg­re­gat­ed in the two most crowd­ed and dilap­i­dat­ed of the reformatory’s 17 ‘cot­tages,’ and were rou­tine­ly beat­en by male staff. There was a fine music pro­gram at the school, but Ella Fitzger­ald was not in the choir: it was all white.” Fitzger­ald escaped and made her way back to Harlem, where she slept on the streets. She stepped onstage at the Apollo’s ama­teur night as part of a dare and had orig­i­nal­ly planned to do a dance rou­tine.

The year after her Apol­lo debut, Fitzger­ald per­formed at Yale Uni­ver­si­ty with Chick Webb’s orches­tra. She released her first sin­gle, one of the biggest records of the decade, in 1938. In 1939, she took over as band­leader and carved out a career in the fol­low­ing years that includ­ed tours in Japan, Europe, and Aus­tralia, where she became a huge sen­sa­tion in 1954. In the states, how­ev­er, she was still treat­ed like a crim­i­nal. She missed her first two shows in Syd­ney because she and her pianist, assis­tant, and man­ag­er Nor­man Granz were thrown off the plane in Hon­olu­lu with­out expla­na­tion or recourse. (Fitzger­ald lat­er sued and won, as she explains in a 1970 CBC inter­view clip above.)

In 1955, Fitzgerald’s career received a major boost when Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe pres­sured the own­er of Sun­set Strip’s famed Mocam­bo to book the singer. “After that, I nev­er had to play a small jazz club again,” Fitzger­ald lat­er recalled. That same year, reports USA Today, “she was arrest­ed in her dress­ing room at an inte­grat­ed show in Hous­ton. When she arrived at the police sta­tion, an offi­cer asked for her auto­graph, Fitzger­ald recalls.” She rose above the ugli­ness with poise and grace and most­ly pre­ferred not to talk about it, though it sure­ly took its toll. “She lived, she sur­vived,” says cul­tur­al crit­ic Mar­go Jef­fer­son. “She became famous and she kept on keep­ing on—at what inner price, we don’t know.”

We do, how­ev­er, have a slight­ly bet­ter sense of how she felt thanks to clips from a 1963 inter­view with New York radio host Fred Rob­bins that have emerged after going unheard for decades (begin­ning at :30 in the video at the top). Dis­cussing her frus­tra­tion with seg­re­ga­tion in the South, she says:

Maybe I’m step­ping out (of line), but I have to say it, because it’s in my heart. It makes you feel so bad to think we can’t go down through cer­tain parts of the South and give a con­cert like we do over­seas, and have every­body just come to hear the music and enjoy the music because of the prej­u­dice thing that’s going on.

I used to always clam up because you (hear peo­ple) say, ‘Oh, gee, show peo­ple should stay out of pol­i­tics.’ But we have trav­eled so much and been embar­rassed so much. (Fans) can’t under­stand why you don’t play in Alaba­ma, or (ask), ‘Why can’t you have a con­cert? Music is music.’

The sit­u­a­tion was tru­ly “embar­rass­ing,” as she put it, for the coun­try and for her and her fel­low musi­cians. Fitzger­ald had seen enough in her life at that point to under­stand how deeply entrenched racism could become. Hope­ful about the future, she also rec­og­nized that there were some minds that would nev­er change. “The die-hards, they’re just going to die hard,” she says. “They’re not going to give in. You’ve got to try and con­vince the younger ones, they’re the ones who’ve got to make the future and those are the ones we’ve got to wor­ry about. Not those die-hards.”

Rob­bins had promised Fitzger­ald that the inter­view would air “all over the world.” Instead, for rea­sons unknown, it was shelved and for­got­ten until author Reg­gie Nadel­son dis­cov­ered the record­ing in 2018 at the Paley Cen­ter for Media. Despite her ret­i­cence to speak out, Fitzger­ald was grate­ful for the oppor­tu­ni­ty, even if it might end up cost­ing her. “I real­ly ran my mouth,” she says, wor­ry­ing, “Is it going down South? You think they’re going to break my records up when they hear it? This is unusu­al for me.” Nonethe­less, she says, “I’m so hap­py that you had me, because instead of singing, for a change I got a chance to get a few things off my chest. I just a human being.”

The clip at the top comes from a new doc­u­men­tary titled Ella Fitzger­ald: Just One of Those Things. Watch the trail­er for the film above.

via Ted Gioia

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe Helped Break Ella Fitzger­ald Into the Big Time (1955)

Ella Fitzger­ald Sings ‘Sum­mer­time’ by George Gersh­win, Berlin 1968

Miles Davis is Attacked, Beat­en & Arrest­ed by the NYPD Out­side Bird­land, Eight Days After the Release of Kind of Blue (1959)

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

 

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