An Animated Video Shows the Building of a Medieval Bridge: 45 Years of Construction in 3 Minutes

With­out mas­sive feats of engi­neer­ing we rarely notice any­more because they seem so com­mon­place, the built envi­ron­ments we nav­i­gate each day wouldn’t exist. When we do turn our atten­tion to how the build­ings get made, we are met with sur­pris­es, curiosi­ties, puz­zles, moments of won­der. How much more is this the case when learn­ing about fix­tures of cities that are hun­dreds or thou­sands of years old, con­struct­ed with what we would con­sid­er prim­i­tive meth­ods, pro­duc­ing results that seem supe­ri­or in dura­bil­i­ty and aes­thet­ic qual­i­ty to most mod­ern struc­tures?

Of course, while mod­ern struc­tures can take months or even weeks to fin­ish, those of a more ancient or medieval age were con­struct­ed over decades and repaired, rebuilt, and restored over cen­turies. Con­sid­er the Charles Bridge, which cross­es the Vlta­va (Moldau) riv­er in Prague.

Con­struc­tion began on the famous structure—nearly 1,700 feet (516 meters) long and 33 feet (10 meters) wide—in 1357 under King Charles IV. Forty-five years lat­er, in 1402, the bridge was com­plet­ed. It was dam­aged in the Thir­ty Years’ War, then repaired, dam­aged in floods in the 15th, 18th, and 19th cen­turies, and repaired, and updat­ed with more mod­ern appoint­ments over time, such as gaslights. But its bones, as they say, stayed strong.

In the dig­i­tal­ly ani­mat­ed video above, you can watch the ini­tial con­struc­tion process in fast-motion–nearly half a cen­tu­ry con­densed into 3 min­utes. Built by archi­tect Peter Par­ler, it was orig­i­nal­ly called Stone Bridge. It acquired the king’s name in 1870. “The low-lying medieval struc­ture,” notes Google, who cel­e­brat­ed the 660th anniver­sary of the bridge in 2017, “is com­prised of 16 shal­low arch­es and three Goth­ic tow­ers, and lined with 30 Baroque-style stat­ues,” added some 200 years ago. Every build­ing has its secrets, and the Charles Bridge no doubt has more than most. One of the first has noth­ing to do with hid­den cham­bers or buried remains. Rather, “accord­ing to leg­end, dur­ing con­struc­tion, masons added a secret ingre­di­ent that they thought would make it stronger: eggs!”

See more ani­mat­ed videos of vin­tage con­struc­tion at the Pra­ha Arche­o­log­ic­ka chan­nel on YouTube and learn much more about medieval Prague’s many archi­tec­tur­al sur­pris­es at their site.

via Twist­ed Sifter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Vir­tu­al Time-Lapse Recre­ation of the Build­ing of Notre Dame (1160)

Take an Aer­i­al Tour of Medieval Paris

Watch 50+ Doc­u­men­taries on Famous Archi­tects & Build­ings: Bauhaus, Le Cor­busier, Hadid & Many More

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

Chris Matheson, “Bill & Ted” Writer, Talks Cosmic Satire with Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #65

Chris Math­e­son has writ­ten a bunch of com­ic movies includ­ing the new Bill & Ted Face the Music, and he’s con­vert­ed reli­gious texts into fun­nier books on three occa­sions, most recent­ly with The Bud­dha’s Sto­ry. Your hosts Mark Lin­sen­may­er, Eri­ca Spyres, and Bri­an Hirt talk with him about what uni­fies these projects: Why the big ideas of sci­ence fic­tion, fan­ta­sy, reli­gion, and phi­los­o­phy are beg­ging in a sim­i­lar way to be made fun of.

We get into the big ques­tions: How does humor relate to fear? Would a soci­ety based on Bill and Ted (or Keanu Reeves) actu­al­ly be desir­able? How bad is the evi­dent lit­er­al absur­di­ty of many reli­gious texts? Plus, the B & T joke that has not aged well, and much more!

A few arti­cles that we found but did­n’t real­ly draw on includ­ed:

Learn more at prettymuchpop.com. This episode includes bonus dis­cus­sion that you can only hear by sup­port­ing the pod­cast at patreon.com/prettymuchpop. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

Tom Lehrer Releases His All of Catchy and Savage Musical Satire Into the Public Domain

If the age of Amer­i­can musi­cal satire is behind us, Tom Lehrer may have end­ed it sim­ply by being unsur­pass­ably good at it. No less a com­e­dy-song mas­ter than “Weird Al” Yankovic still walks among us, of course, but he spe­cial­izes in broad par­o­dy rather than bit­ing irony. Despite hav­ing retired from pub­lic life, Lehrer too lives on, and at 92 has tak­en action to assure his work a longer exis­tence by releas­ing it into the pub­lic domain. On his offi­cial site you’ll see a state­ment from the man him­self: “All the lyrics on this web­site, whether pub­lished or unpub­lished, copy­right­ed or uncopy­right­ed, may be down­loaded and used in any man­ner what­so­ev­er.”

Direct­ly below his mes­sage you’ll find a list of near­ly 100 of Lehrer’s songs, which when clicked lead to down­load­able PDFs of their lyrics, and in some cas­es their sheet music as well. Ready for you to repur­pose are such sig­na­ture num­bers as “The Masochism Tan­go,” “Poi­son­ing Pigeons in the Park,” and “The Ele­ments,” a ver­sion of the “Major-Gen­er­al’s Song” from Gilbert and Sul­li­van’s Pirates of Pen­zance that name-checks each and every one of the phys­i­cal ele­ments known in 1959.

That Lehrer has also includ­ed the “Aris­to­tle ver­sion” of “Ele­ments” — in full, “There’s earth and air and fire and water” — just hints at the many play­ful touch­es to be found in this col­lec­tion of mate­ri­als.

Not just a singer-song­writer but a math­e­mati­cian who worked at both the Los Alam­os Sci­en­tif­ic Lab­o­ra­to­ry and the Nation­al Secu­ri­ty Agency dur­ing the Cold War, Lehrer did­n’t shy away from address­ing the tech­ni­cal, the polit­i­cal, and the top­i­cal in his music. “Wern­her von Braun” sends up the rock­et sci­en­tist secret­ly recruit­ed by the Unit­ed States from defeat­ed Nazi Ger­many (“Don’t say that he’s hyp­o­crit­i­cal / Say rather that he’s apo­lit­i­cal”). “New Math” gives a sim­i­lar treat­ment to the Sput­nik-spooked U.S.‘s ill-advised scram­ble to reform math­e­mat­ics edu­ca­tion, and I got a laugh out of the song in child­hood despite grow­ing up long after the retrench­ment of New Math itself.

Whether hear­ing or read­ing Lehrer’s lyrics today, one mar­vels at both how they’ve retained their bite, and how wide­ly they were con­sid­ered too edgy for air­play in the 1950s. The BBC, for exam­ple, banned ten of the twelve songs on his debut album, includ­ing “Be Pre­pared,” which spins the Boy Scout’s mot­to into an ode to mis­be­hav­ior (“Be pre­pared to hold your liquor pret­ty well / Don’t write naughty words on walls if you can’t spell”). But now we’re free to craft new con­texts to make them trou­bling again, and with the hol­i­days com­ing up, this assures us very Lehrer Thanks­giv­ingsChrist­mases (“Mix the punch, drag out the Dick­ens / Even though the prospect sick­ens”) and Hanukkahs (“Here’s to Judas Mac­cabeus / Boy, if he could only see us / Spend­ing Hanukkah in San­ta Mon­i­ca”) to come. Enter his site here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Tom Lehrer Sing the Names of 102 Chem­i­cal Ele­ments to the Tune of Gilbert & Sul­li­van

Tom Lehrer’s Math­e­mat­i­cal­ly and Sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly Inclined Singing and Song­writ­ing, Ani­mat­ed

Cel­e­brate Har­ry Potter’s Birth­day with Song. Daniel Rad­cliffe Sings Tom Lehrer’s Tune “The Ele­ments”

We’re All Doomed!: Weird Al Yankovic Tries to Make Sense of the Dis­as­trous Trump vs. Biden “Debate”

The Music, Books & Films Lib­er­at­ed into the Pub­lic Domain in 2020: Rhap­sody in Blue, The Mag­ic Moun­tain, Sher­lock, Jr., and More

Every Pos­si­ble Melody Has Been Copy­right­ed, and They’re Now Released into the Pub­lic Domain

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, 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.

How the Doors Got Banned from The Ed Sullivan Show (1967)

Get­ting banned from a venue can hurt a band’s career, but in most every case I’ve heard about, it’s a cloud with a gold­en lin­ing. Hard­core band Bad Brains built a lega­cy on get­ting banned in all of D.C.‘s clubs. Elvis Costello’s career didn’t seem to suf­fer much when he was banned from Sat­ur­day Night Live in 1977. Jimi Hen­drix’s ban­ning from the BBC did­n’t hurt his image any. Then there’s the Doors….

The band earned the dis­tinc­tion of being the first to have a mem­ber arrest­ed live onstage in the infa­mous “New Haven inci­dent” of 1967. Three months ear­li­er, they per­formed live, no mim­ing, on The Ed Sul­li­van Show. Things did not go as smooth­ly as the pro­duc­ers may have hoped,” writes Ulti­mate Clas­sic Rock. No, Jim Mor­ri­son didn’t expose him­self or antag­o­nize the audi­ence.

On the con­trary, giv­en the Doors’ oth­er noto­ri­ous “inci­dents,” the offense is as mild as it gets—Morrison sim­ply sang the lyrics to “Light My Fire” as writ­ten, defy­ing pro­duc­ers’ request that he change “Girl, we couldn’t get much high­er” since it sound­ed like a drug ref­er­ence. Not only did they ask Mor­ri­son to change the lyric, but they also appar­ent­ly asked him to sing “Girl, we couldn’t get much bet­ter,” which doesn’t even rhyme.

One can see why he would have resist­ed.

“Band mem­bers have giv­en vary­ing accounts of whether they ever agreed to change the line or not,” UCR notes. Accord­ing to The Ed Sul­li­van Show site, a pro­duc­er came into the dress­ing room, told the band they should smile more, and told them the line was “inap­pro­pri­ate for a fam­i­ly show on nation­al tele­vi­sion.” As soon as he left the room, Mor­ri­son said, “We’re not chang­ing a word.”

The band went on after Rod­ney Dan­ger­field, a last-minute replace­ment for anoth­er com­ic. They played “Peo­ple Are Strange,” then the offend­ing song. Dan­ger­field became a reg­u­lar on the Sul­li­van show. The Doors–booked for six more appearances–never went on again, though they had plen­ty of oth­er TV book­ings and wild, dis­as­trous stage shows to keep them busy.

When informed after the show that they’d been banned, Mor­ri­son report­ed­ly said a most Jim Mor­ri­son thing: “Hey, man, we just did the Sul­li­van show.”

Watch a clip of the per­for­mance just above.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Stunt That Got Elvis Costel­lo Banned From Sat­ur­day Night Live (1977)

The Night John Belushi Booked the Punk Band Fear on Sat­ur­day Night Live, And They Got Banned from the Show

Jimi Hen­drix Wreaks Hav­oc on the Lulu Show, Gets Banned From the BBC (1969)

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

Watch Cornel West’s Free Online Course on W.E.B. Du Bois, the Great 20th Century Public Intellectual

A giant of 20th cen­tu­ry schol­ar­ship, W.E.B. Du Bois’ career spanned six decades, two World Wars, and sev­er­al waves of civ­il rights and decolo­nial move­ments; he saw the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry with more clar­i­ty than per­haps any­one of his gen­er­a­tion through the lens of “dou­ble con­scious­ness”;  he wrote pre­scient­ly about geopol­i­tics, polit­i­cal econ­o­my, insti­tu­tion­al racism, impe­ri­al­ism, and the cul­ture and his­to­ry of both black and white Amer­i­cans; we find in near­ly all of his work pierc­ing obser­va­tions that seem to look direct­ly at our present con­di­tions, while ana­lyz­ing the con­di­tions of his time with rad­i­cal rig­or.

“An activist and a jour­nal­ist, a his­to­ri­an and a soci­ol­o­gist, a nov­el­ist, a crit­ic, and a philoso­pher,” notes the Stan­ford Ency­clo­pe­dia of Phi­los­o­phy, Du Bois “exam­ined the race prob­lem in its many aspects more pro­found­ly, exten­sive­ly, and sub­tly” than “any­one, at any time.” And there is no one more flu­ent in the ver­nac­u­lars, lit­er­a­tures, and philoso­phies Du Bois mas­tered than Cor­nel West, who lays out for us what this means:

Du Bois, like Pla­to, like Shake­speare, like Toni Mor­ri­son, like Thomas Pyn­chon, like Vir­ginia Woolf…. What do they do? They push you against a wall: heart, mind, soul. Struc­tures and insti­tu­tions, vicious forms of sub­or­di­na­tion, but also joy­ful and hero­ic forms of cri­tique and resis­tance.

West begins his course on Du Bois—delivered in the sum­mer of 2017 at Dart­mouth—with this descrip­tion (things get going in the first lec­ture at 3:15 after the course intro), which ges­tures toward the com­par­a­tive, “call and response,” dis­cus­sion to come. All nine lec­tures from “The His­tor­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy of W.E.B. Du Bois” (plus an addi­tion­al pub­lic talk West deliv­ered at the uni­ver­si­ty) are avail­able at Dart­mouth’s Depart­ment of Eng­lish and Cre­ative Writ­ing site, as well as this YouTube playlist.

The course fol­lows the move­ment of Du Bois’ com­plex his­tor­i­cal phi­los­o­phy and pio­neer­ing use of schol­ar­ly autobiography—(what West calls the “cul­ti­va­tion” of a “crit­i­cal self”)—through a num­ber of themes, from “Du Bois and the Cat­a­stroph­ic 20th Cen­tu­ry” to, in the final lec­ture, “Rev­o­lu­tion, Race, and Amer­i­can Empire.” It begins with 1903’s The Souls of Black Folk, in which Du Bois first wrote of dou­ble con­scious­ness and penned the famous line, “The prob­lem of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry is the prob­lem of the col­or-line.”

West puts close read­ings of that sem­i­nal work next to “sub­se­quent essays in [Du Bois’] mag­is­te­r­i­al cor­pus, espe­cial­ly his clas­sic auto­bi­og­ra­phy Dusk of Dawn (1940),” the course descrip­tion reads. The lat­ter text is not only a Bil­dung, a “spir­i­tu­al auto­bi­og­ra­phy,” Du Bois called it, but also a crit­i­cal analy­sis of sci­ence and empire, white­ness, pro­pa­gan­da, world war, rev­o­lu­tion, and a con­cep­tu­al­iza­tion of race that sees the idea’s arbi­trary illog­ic, in the “con­tin­u­ous change in the proofs and argu­ments advanced.” These ideas became for­ma­tive for anti-colo­nial, anti-impe­r­i­al, and Pan-African move­ments.

Du Bois first formed his “rad­i­cal cos­mopoli­tanism,” as Gunter Lenz writes in The Jour­nal of Transna­tion­al Amer­i­can Stud­ies, dur­ing his stud­ies in Ger­many, where he arrived in 1892 and found him­self, he wrote, “on the out­side of the Amer­i­can world, look­ing in.” He returned to Ger­many over the decades and, in a 1936 vis­it, was one of the few pub­lic intel­lec­tu­als who pre­dict­ed a “world war on Jews” and “all non-Nordic races.” But Du Bois not only con­front­ed the geno­ci­dal wars and helped lead the lib­er­a­to­ry move­ments of the 20th cen­tu­ry; he also, with uncan­ny per­spi­cac­i­ty, both antic­i­pat­ed and shaped the strug­gles of the 21st. Access West­’s full lec­ture course here.

West­’s course, “The His­tor­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy of W.E.B. Du Bois,” will be added to our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

Take Free Online Cours­es on African-Amer­i­can His­to­ry from Yale and Stan­ford: From Eman­ci­pa­tion, to the Civ­il Rights Move­ment, and Beyond

W.E.B. Du Bois Cre­ates Rev­o­lu­tion­ary, Artis­tic Data Visu­al­iza­tions Show­ing the Eco­nom­ic Plight of African-Amer­i­cans (1900)

W.E.B. Du Bois Dev­as­tates Apol­o­gists for Con­fed­er­ate Mon­u­ments and Robert E. Lee (1931)

Daniel Den­nett and Cor­nel West Decode the Phi­los­o­phy of The Matrix

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

How to De-Stress with Niksen, the Dutch Art of Doing Nothing

Stressed out? Over­whelmed? If you said no, I’d wor­ry whether you have a func­tion­ing ner­vous sys­tem. For those of us who don’t get out much now because of the pan­dem­ic, even stay­ing home has become a source of stress. We’re iso­lat­ed or being dri­ven up the wall by beloved fam­i­ly mem­bers. We’re grasp­ing at every stress-relief tool we can find. For those who have to leave for work, espe­cial­ly in med­i­cine, read­ing the head­lines before mask­ing up for a shift must make for high­er than aver­age blood pres­sure, at least. Every major health agency has issued men­tal health guide­lines for cop­ing dur­ing the coro­n­avirus. Not many gov­ern­ments, how­ev­er, are forth­com­ing with fund­ing for men­tal health sup­port. That’s not even to men­tion, well…. name your super-col­lid­ing glob­al crises….

So, we med­i­tate, or squirm in our seats and hate every sec­ond of try­ing to med­i­tate. Maybe it’s not for every­one. Even as a long­time med­i­ta­tor, I wouldn’t go around pro­claim­ing the prac­tice a cure-all. There are hun­dreds of tra­di­tions around the world that can bring peo­ple into a state of calm relax­ation and push wor­ries into the back­ground. For rea­sons of cold, and maybe gen­er­ous parental leave, cer­tain North­ern Euro­pean coun­tries have turned stay­ing home into a for­mal tra­di­tion. There’s IKEA, of course (not the assem­bly part, but the shop­ping and sit­ting in a new­ly assem­bled IKEA chair with sat­is­fac­tion part). Then there’s lagom, the Swedish prac­tice of “approach­ing life with an ‘every­thing in mod­er­a­tion,’ mind­set” as Sophia Got­tfried writes at TIME.

Hygge, “the Dan­ish con­cept that made stay­ing in and get­ting cozy cool” may not be a path to greater aware­ness, but it can make shel­ter­ing in place much less upset­ting. A few years back, it was “Move Over, Marie Kon­do: Make Room for the Hygge Hordes,” in The New York Times’ win­ter fash­ion sec­tion. As win­ter approach­es once more (and I hate to tell you, but it’s prob­a­bly gonna be a stress­ful one), Hygge is mak­ing way in stress relief cir­cles for niksen, a Dutch word that “lit­er­al­ly means to do noth­ing, to be idle or doing some­thing with­out any use,” says Car­olien Ham­ming, man­ag­ing direc­tor of a Dutch destress­ing cen­ter, CSR Cen­trum.

Niksen is not doom­scrolling through social media or stream­ing whole sea­sons of shows. Niksen is inten­tion­al pur­pose­less­ness, the oppo­site of dis­trac­tion, like med­i­ta­tion but with­out the pos­tures and instruc­tions and class­es and retreats and so forth. Any­one can do it, though it might be hard­er than it looks. Got­tfried quotes Ruut Veen­hoven, soci­ol­o­gist and pro­fes­sor at Eras­mus Uni­ver­si­ty Rot­ter­dam, who says niksen can be as sim­ple as “sit­ting in a chair or look­ing out the win­dow,” just let­ting your mind wan­der. If your mind wan­ders to unset­tling places, you can try an absorb­ing, repet­i­tive task to keep it busy. “We should have moments of relax­ation, and relax­ation can be com­bined with easy, semi-auto­mat­ic activ­i­ty, such as knit­ting.”

“One aspect of the ‘art of liv­ing,’” says Veen­hoven, “is to find out what ways of relax­ing fit you best.” If you’re think­ing you might have found yours in niksen, you can get start­ed right away, even if you aren’t at home. “You can niks in a café, too,” says Olga Meck­ing—author of Niksen: Embrac­ing the Dutch Art of Doing Noth­ing—when cafes are safe to niks in. (You can also use “niks” as a verb.) It may not strict­ly be a mind­ful­ness prac­tice like the many descend­ed from Bud­dhism, but it is mind­ful­ness adja­cent, Nicole Spec­tor points out at NBC News. Niks-ing (?) can soothe burnout by giv­ing our brain time to process the mas­sive amounts of infor­ma­tion we take in every day, “which in turn can boost one’s cre­ativ­i­ty,” Got­tfried writes, by mak­ing space for new ideas. Or as Brut Amer­i­ca, pro­duc­er of the short niksen explain­er above, writes, “doing noth­ing isn’t lazy—it’s an art.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Mind­ful­ness Makes Us Hap­pi­er & Bet­ter Able to Meet Life’s Chal­lenges: Two Ani­mat­ed Primers Explain

Why You Do Your Best Think­ing In The Show­er: Cre­ativ­i­ty & the “Incu­ba­tion Peri­od”

How Infor­ma­tion Over­load Robs Us of Our Cre­ativ­i­ty: What the Sci­en­tif­ic Research Shows

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

Phone Relief: The Ultimate Hands-Free Headset (1993)

We have fea­tured some great acts of imag­i­na­tion when it comes to tele­phone technology–from the worlds’ first mobile phone shown in this 1922 British Pathé news­reel, to when Fritz Lang “invent­ed” the video phone in Metrop­o­lis in 1927. “Phone Relief,” the ulti­mate hands-free head­set mar­ket­ed in 1993, will nev­er qual­i­fy as a great act of imag­i­na­tion. But it does make for a great kitschy ad.

via @moodvintage

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The World’s First Mobile Phone Shown in 1922 Vin­tage Film

When We All Have Pock­et Tele­phones (1923)

How to Use the Rotary Dial Phone: A Primer from 1927

Take a Digital Drive Along Ed Ruscha’s Sunset Boulevard, the Famous Strip That the Artist Photographed from 1965 to 2007

Ed Ruscha has lived near­ly 65 years in Los Ange­les, but he insists that he has no par­tic­u­lar fas­ci­na­tion with the place. Not every­one believes him: is dis­in­ter­est among the many pos­si­ble feel­ings that could moti­vate a paint­ing like The Los Ange­les Coun­ty Muse­um on Fire? Nev­er­the­less, the plain­spo­ken Okla­homa-born artist has long stuck to his sto­ry, per­haps in order to let his often cryp­tic work speak for itself. Orig­i­nal­ly trained in com­mer­cial art, Ruscha has paint­ed, print­ed, drawn, and tak­en pho­tographs, the most cel­e­brat­ed fruit of that last pur­suit being 1966’s Every Build­ing on the Sun­set Strip, a book that stitch­es his count­less pho­tographs of that famous boule­vard — both sides of it — onto one long, con­tin­u­ous page.

What­ev­er you think of such a project, you can’t accuse it of a mis­match between form and sub­stance. Nor can you call it a cyn­i­cal one-off: between 1967 and 2007, Ruscha drove Sun­set Boule­vard with his cam­era no few­er than twelve times in order to pho­to­graph most or all of its build­ings.

These include gas sta­tions (an archi­tec­tur­al form to which Ruscha has made the sub­ject of its own pho­to book as well as one of his most famous paint­ings), drug­stores, appli­ance deal­ers, Cen­tral Amer­i­can restau­rants, karate schools, trav­el agen­cies, car wash­es, Mod­ernist office tow­ers, and two of the most char­ac­ter­is­tic struc­tures of Los Ange­les: low-rise, kitschi­ly named “ding­bat” apart­ment blocks and L‑shaped “La Man­cha” strip malls.

The mix of the built envi­ron­ment varies great­ly, of course, depend­ing on where you choose to go on this 22-mile-long boule­vard, only a short stretch of which con­sti­tutes the “Sun­set Strip.” It also depends on when you choose to go: not which time of day, but which era, a choice put at your fin­ger­tips by the Get­ty Research Insti­tute’s Ed Ruscha Streets of Los Ange­les Project, and specif­i­cal­ly its inter­ac­tive fea­ture 12 Sun­sets. In it you can use your left and right arrow keys to “dri­ve” east or west (in your choice between a van, a VW Bee­tle, or Ruscha’s own trusty Dat­sun pick­up), and your up and down but­ton to flip between the year of the pho­to shoots that make up the boule­vard around you.

Many long­time Ange­lenos (or enthu­si­asts of Los Ange­les cul­ture) will motor straight to the inter­sec­tion with Horn Avenue, loca­tion of the much-mythol­o­gized Sun­set Strip Tow­er Records from which the very Amer­i­can musi­cal zeit­geist once seemed to emanate. The Sacra­men­to-found­ed store was actu­al­ly a late­com­er to Los Ange­les com­pared to Ruscha him­self, and the build­ing first appears in his third pho­to shoot, of 1973. The next year the ever-chang­ing posters on its exte­ri­or walls includes Bil­ly Joel’s Piano Man. About a decade lat­er appear the one-hit likes of Lover­boy, and in the twi­light of the 1990s the street ele­va­tion touts the Beast­ie Boys and Rob Zom­bie. In 2007, Tow­er’s sig­na­ture red and yel­low are all that remain, the chain itself hav­ing gone under (at least out­side Japan) the year before.

12 Sun­sets’ inter­face pro­vides two dif­fer­ent meth­ods to get straight from one point to anoth­er: you can either type a spe­cif­ic place name into the “loca­tion search” box on the upper right, or click the map icon on the mid­dle left to open up the line of the whole street click­able any­where from down­town Los Ange­les to the Pacif­ic Ocean. This is a much eas­i­er way of mak­ing your way along Sun­set Boule­vard than actu­al­ly dri­ving it, even in the com­par­a­tive­ly nonex­is­tent traf­fic of 1965. Nev­er­the­less, Ruscha con­tin­ues to pho­to­graph­i­cal­ly doc­u­ment it and oth­er Los Ange­les streets, using the very same method he did 55 years ago. The build­ings keep chang­ing, but the city has nev­er stopped exud­ing its char­ac­ter­is­tic nor­mal­i­ty so intense­ly as to become eccen­tric­i­ty (and vice ver­sa). What artist wor­thy of the title would­n’t be fas­ci­nat­ed?

Explore the Get­ty Research Insti­tute’s Ed Ruscha Streets of Los Ange­les Project here.

via Austin Kleon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Artist Ed Ruscha Reads From Jack Kerouac’s On the Road in a Short Film Cel­e­brat­ing His 1966 Pho­tos of the Sun­set Strip

Roy Licht­en­stein and Andy Warhol Demys­ti­fy Their Pop Art in Vin­tage 1966 Film

A Brief His­to­ry of John Baldessari, Nar­rat­ed by Tom Waits

Take a Dri­ve Through 1940s, 50s & 60s Los Ange­les with Vin­tage Through-the-Car-Win­dow Films

Watch Randy Newman’s Tour of Los Ange­les’ Sun­set Boule­vard, and You’ll Love L.A. Too

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, 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.

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