Take Hannah Arendt’s Final Exam for Her 1961 Course “On Revolution”

After her analy­sis of total­i­tar­i­an­ism in Nazi Ger­many and Stalin’s Sovi­et Union, Han­nah Arendt turned her schol­ar­ly atten­tion to the sub­ject of revolution—namely, to the French and Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tions. How­ev­er, the first chap­ter of her 1963 book On Rev­o­lu­tion opens with a para­phrase of Lenin about her own time: “Wars and rev­o­lu­tions… have thus far deter­mined the phys­iog­no­my of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry.”

Arendt wrote the book on the thresh­old of many wars and rev­o­lu­tions yet to come, but she was not par­tic­u­lar­ly sym­pa­thet­ic to the left­ist turn of the 1960s. On Rev­o­lu­tion favors the Amer­i­can Colonists over the French Sans Culottes and Jacobins. The book is in part an intel­lec­tu­al con­tri­bu­tion to anti-Com­mu­nism, one of many ide­olo­gies, Arendt writes, that “have lost con­tact with the major real­i­ties of our world”?

What are those real­i­ties? “War and rev­o­lu­tion,” she argues, “have out­lived all their ide­o­log­i­cal jus­ti­fi­ca­tions… no cause is left but the most ancient of all, the one, in fact, that from the begin­ning of our his­to­ry has deter­mined the very exis­tence of pol­i­tics, the cause of free­dom ver­sus tyran­ny.” This sounds like pam­phle­teer­ing, but Arendt did not use such abstrac­tions light­ly. As one of the fore­most schol­ars of ancient Greek and mod­ern Euro­pean phi­los­o­phy, she was emi­nent­ly qual­i­fied to define her terms.

Her stu­dents, on the oth­er hand, might have strug­gled with such weighty con­cepts as “rev­o­lu­tion,” “rights, “free­dom,” etc. which can so eas­i­ly become mean­ing­less slo­gans with­out sub­stan­tive elab­o­ra­tion and “con­tact with real­i­ty.” Arendt was a thor­ough teacher. Once her stu­dents left her class, they sure­ly had a bet­ter grasp on the intel­lec­tu­al his­to­ry of lib­er­al democ­ra­cy. Such under­stand­ing con­sti­tut­ed Arendt’s life’s work, and it was through teach­ing that she devel­oped and refined the ideas that became On Rev­o­lu­tion.

Arendt began research for the book at Prince­ton, where she was appoint­ed the first woman to serve as a full pro­fes­sor in 1953. Through­out the 50s and ear­ly 60s, she taught at Berke­ley, Colum­bia, Cor­nell, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go, and North­west­ern before join­ing the fac­ul­ty of the New School. In 1961, she taught a North­west­ern sem­i­nar called “On Rev­o­lu­tion.” Just above, you can see the course’s final exam. (View it in a larg­er for­mat here.) If you’re won­der­ing why she gave the test in March, per­haps it’s because the fol­low­ing month, she board­ed a plane to cov­er the Adolf Eich­mann tri­al for The New York­er.

What did Arendt want to make sure that her stu­dents under­stood before she left? See a tran­scrip­tion of the exam ques­tions below. We see the two poles of her lat­er argu­ment com­ing into focus, the French and the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion­ary ideas. The lat­ter exam­ple has been seen by many crit­i­cal philoso­phers as hard­ly rev­o­lu­tion­ary at all, giv­en that it was pri­mar­i­ly waged in the inter­ests of mer­chants and slave-own­ing plan­ta­tion own­ers. It was, as one his­to­ri­an puts it, “a rev­o­lu­tion in favor of gov­ern­ment.”

This crit­i­cism is like­ly the basis of Arendt’s final ques­tion on the test. But in her eru­dite argu­ment, the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion is foun­da­tion­al to use of “rev­o­lu­tion” as a polit­i­cal term of art. As Arendt writes in a late 60s lec­ture, re-dis­cov­ered in 2017, “pri­or to the two great rev­o­lu­tions at the end of the 18th cen­tu­ry and the spe­cif­ic sense it then acquired, the word ‘rev­o­lu­tion’ was hard­ly promi­nent in the vocab­u­lary of polit­i­cal thought or prac­tice.” Rather, it main­ly had astro­log­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance.

Arendt saw all sub­se­quent world rev­o­lu­tions as par­tak­ing of the twinned log­ics of the 18th cen­tu­ry. “Its polit­i­cal usage was metaphor­i­cal,” she says, “describ­ing a move­ment back into some pre-estab­lished point, and hence a motion, a swing­ing back to a pre-ordained order.” Gen­er­al­ly, that order has been pre-ordained by the rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies them­selves. See if your under­stand­ing of rev­o­lu­tion­ary his­to­ry is up to Arendt’s ped­a­gog­i­cal stan­dards, below, and get a more com­pre­hen­sive his­to­ry of rev­o­lu­tion from the read­ings on recent course syl­labus­es here, here, and here.

 

Answer at least five of the fol­low­ing ques­tions:

  1. What is the ori­gin of the word “rev­o­lu­tion”?

How was the word orig­i­nal­ly used in polit­i­cal lan­guage?

  1. Iden­ti­fy the fol­low­ing dates:

The 14th of July

The 9th of Ther­mi­dore

The 18th of Bru­maire

  1. Who wrote The Rights of Man?

Who wrote Reflec­tions on the French Rev­o­lu­tion?

What was the con­nec­tion between the two books?

  1. Who was Creve­coeur? Give title of his book.
  2. Enu­mer­ate some authors and books that played a role in the rev­o­lu­tions?
  3. What is the dif­fer­ence between abso­lutism and a “lim­it­ed monar­chy”?
  4. Who is the author of The Spir­it of the Laws?
  5. Which author had the great­est influ­ence on the men of the French Rev­o­lu­tion?
  6. What is meant by the phrase “state of nature”?
  7. The fol­low­ing words are of Greek ori­gin; give their Eng­lish equiv­a­lent: monarchy—oligarchy—aristocracy—democracy.

Write a short essay of no more than four pages on one of the fol­low­ing top­ics:

  1. It is a main the­sis of R.R. Palmer’s The Age of the Demo­c­ra­t­ic Rev­o­lu­tion that “the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion was an event with­in an Atlantic civ­i­liza­tion as a whole.” Explain and dis­cuss.

  2. Clin­ton Rossiter asserts that “America’s debt to the idea of social con­tract is so huge as to defy mea­sure­ment.” Explain and dis­cuss.

  3. Dif­fer­ences and sim­i­lar­i­ties between the Amer­i­can and the French Rev­o­lu­tion.

  4. Con­nect on pos­si­ble mean­ings of the phrase: Pur­suit of hap­pi­ness.

  5. Describe Melville’s atti­tude to the French Rev­o­lu­tion in Bil­ly Budd.

  6. The Amer­i­can Revolution—was there any?

via Saman­tha Hill

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Han­nah Arendt Explains How Pro­pa­gan­da Uses Lies to Erode All Truth & Moral­i­ty: Insights from The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism

Han­nah Arendt Explains Why Democ­ra­cies Need to Safe­guard the Free Press & Truth … to Defend Them­selves Against Dic­ta­tors and Their Lies

Large Archive of Han­nah Arendt’s Papers Dig­i­tized by the Library of Con­gress: Read Her Lec­tures, Drafts of Arti­cles, Notes & Cor­re­spon­dence

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

Watch a Screen Test of 21-Year-Old Orson Welles (1937)

We remem­ber Orson Welles as a film direc­tor, and giv­en the influ­ence of Cit­i­zen Kane, we do it with good rea­son. It cer­tain­ly does­n’t hurt the image of Welles-as-auteur that he was only 25 years old when he made that movie, now con­sid­ered one of the great­est of all time. Not only did he direct, he co-wrote, pro­duced, and starred, show­cas­ing a set of act­ing skills he’d been hon­ing on radio and the stage since child­hood. If any man was ever born to give com­mand­ing per­for­mances, it was Welles; when silent film gave way to “talkies,” which favored actors with strong pres­ences and strong voic­es both, Hol­ly­wood stu­dios should have beat­en a path to his door. And yet, when he came to Hol­ly­wood, one of its biggest stu­dios turned him down.

These clips show a 21-year-old Welles doing a screen test for Warn­er Broth­ers in ear­ly 1937, by which time he had already estab­lished him­self as a radio and the­atre per­former. What­ev­er spark of genius we feel we can rec­og­nize in Welles’ line-read­ings today, the peo­ple at Warn­ers’ evi­dent­ly could­n’t see it then — or more char­i­ta­bly, they did­n’t know how to sell his preter­nat­ur­al grav­i­tas.

As his­to­ry shows, Welles could in any case make more of a mark with projects under his own con­trol. Lat­er that same year he would co-found the Mer­cury The­atre, the reper­to­ry com­pa­ny now best remem­bered for its radio broad­casts, specif­i­cal­ly the 1938 adap­ta­tion of H.G. Wells’ alien-inva­sion nov­el War of the Worlds that, so the leg­end goes, proved a lit­tle too real for many lis­ten­ers across Amer­i­ca.

Mas­ter­ing the dra­mat­ic arts is one thing, but set­ting off nation­wide con­tro­ver­sy — now that’s the way to get the enter­tain­ment indus­try’s atten­tion. Welles found him­self able to par­lay the inter­est gen­er­at­ed by War of the Worlds into a his­tor­i­cal­ly gen­er­ous three-pic­ture deal with RKO Pic­tures, one that allowed him total cre­ative con­trol as well as the use of his actors from the Mer­cury The­atre. After com­ing to grips with the art of film­mak­ing as well as the art of putting togeth­er projects, Welles came up with the sto­ry of the rise and fall of char­ac­ter mod­eled on William Ran­dolph Hearst, Howard Hugh­es, and oth­er Amer­i­can tycoons. Released in 1941, Cit­i­zen Kane would mark the zenith of Welles’ fame, though over the next 44 years he would labor over many oth­er cin­e­mat­ic visions — efforts more acclaimed now than they were in his life­time, and all finan­cial­ly sup­port­ed by the act­ing skills that nev­er desert­ed him.

via Eyes on Cin­e­ma

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Orson Welles’ First Ever Film, Direct­ed at Age 19

Stream 61 Hours of Orson Welles’ Clas­sic 1930s Radio Plays: War of the Worlds, Heart of Dark­ness & More

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was His Major “Gift” to Cit­i­zen Kane

Orson Welles’ Last Inter­view and Final Moments Cap­tured on Film

Warhol’s Screen Tests of Lou Reed, Den­nis Hop­per, Nico & More

Mar­lon Bran­do Screen Tests for Rebel With­out A Cause (1947)

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.

Peruvian Singer & Rapper, Renata Flores, Helps Preserve Quechua with Viral Hits on YouTube

Ten years ago, a study by David Har­mon and Jonathan Loh showed that in 30 years’ time, the world had seen a twen­ty per­cent decline in lin­guis­tic diver­si­ty. Indige­nous lan­guages and local dialects have con­tin­ued to dwin­dle, in the U.S. and around the globe. “There are a lot of pres­sures in the world that are entic­ing or even forc­ing peo­ple to switch from gen­er­al­ly small­er, more geo­graph­i­cal­ly restrict­ed lan­guages, to larg­er lan­guages,” Har­mon told Nation­al Geo­graph­ic, “espe­cial­ly glob­al lan­guages like Man­darin Chi­nese, Eng­lish, or Span­ish.”

This pres­sure has been exert­ed on indige­nous lan­guages for cen­turies. Yet hun­dreds have sur­vived, includ­ing Quechua, a fam­i­ly of lan­guages descend­ed from the Inca, and spo­ken by almost 4 mil­lion peo­ple in Peru alone. With many more speak­ers in Bolivia, Argenti­na, and else­where, it is Latin America’s most wide­ly spo­ken Indige­nous lan­guage.

It may seem to be thriv­ing, but Quechua speak­ers are wide­ly treat­ed with con­tempt in Peru, though they make up rough­ly 13% of the pop­u­la­tion. They are the country’s poor and ignored. Quechua has been gross­ly under­stud­ied in acad­e­mia and until recent­ly has had almost no major media pres­ence.

The language’s absence from cen­ters of pow­er has made it less acces­si­ble to new­er generations—whose par­ents would not teach them Quechua for fear of stig­ma­tiz­ing them—and more like­ly to die out with­out inter­ven­tion. It became “syn­ony­mous with dis­crim­i­na­tion” and “social rejec­tion,” says Hugo Coya, direc­tor of a recent Peru­vian news pro­gram entire­ly in Quechua. Coya aims to change that, as does Peru­vian schol­ar Rox­ana Quispe Col­lantes, who defend­ed the first Quechua doc­tor­al the­sis last year. Their work will sure­ly have sig­nif­i­cant impact, but per­haps not near­ly as much as the debut of a 14-year-old Peru­vian singer and rap­per, Rena­ta Flo­res, who had a viral hit five years ago with her Quechua cov­er of Michael Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel” (top).

Flo­res, now 19, has fol­lowed up with a string of songs in Quechua that have “brought huge suc­cess,” writes Vice, “mil­lions of views on YouTube; fea­tures and inter­views in Peru­vian media and for­eign press like The Clin­ic, Tele­mu­n­do, El Paid, AJ+ Español, CNN, and BBC; fans in Bolivia, Ecuador, Chile, Argenti­na, Guatemala, Domini­can Repub­lic, Cos­ta Rica, Puer­to Rico, Mex­i­co, the Unit­ed States, Spain, Italy, Chi­na, Alge­ria, and count­ing. And with it, Flo­res is chal­leng­ing the very way peo­ple val­ue lan­guages, espe­cial­ly indige­nous ones.” Her music may speak the lan­guage of a spe­cif­ic region, but does so in a glob­al idiom, com­bin­ing “trap, hip-hop, and elec­tron­ic influ­ences with Andean instru­ments.”

Flo­res’ suc­cess in bring­ing such wide­spread atten­tion to Quechua shows anoth­er major cul­tur­al shift of the past few years. Inter­net cul­ture, once assumed to be ephemer­al and of lit­tle last­ing val­ue, has become the coin of the realm, as aca­d­e­m­ic human­i­ties strug­gle, polit­i­cal insti­tu­tions implode, and jour­nal­ism fails. The joke so often goes that his­to­ri­ans of the future will have to fill text­books (or inter­ac­tive vir­tu­al real­i­ty lessons) with tweets, posts, and memes. Viral YouTube stars like Flo­res are also mak­ing his­to­ry, their videos pri­ma­ry doc­u­ments of how a lan­guage that is mar­gin­al­ized in its home coun­try reached out and found mil­lions of fans around the world.

“The mes­sage con­veyed to Quechua speak­ers” by most treat­ments of their cul­ture in Peru, “is that their iden­ti­ties are part of the region’s past,” writes Julie Turke­witz in a New York Times pro­file of Flo­res. Har­mon makes a sim­i­lar con­nec­tion: “there is a strong pos­si­bil­i­ty that we’ll lose lan­guages that peo­ple are using as their main vehi­cle of expres­sion, which they may regard as one of the linch­pins of their self-iden­ti­ty.” When nation­al nar­ra­tives, media, and edu­ca­tion rel­e­gate a con­tem­po­rary lan­guage to a pre-colo­nial past, it tells mil­lions of peo­ple they essen­tial­ly don’t exist in the mod­ern world. Flo­res, who grew up with Quechua, coun­ters that mes­sage with style.

Flo­res and oth­er Quechua singers not only reaf­firm their cul­tur­al iden­ti­ty, but they put their lan­guage in con­ver­sa­tion with con­tem­po­rary pop music and polit­i­cal con­cerns. Tak­ing on “female pow­er, gov­ern­ment cor­rup­tion, war and inter­na­tion­al pop cul­ture polemics,” writes Turke­witz, Flo­res con­tin­ues a lega­cy her one-time musi­cian par­ents helped launch decades ear­li­er, a Quechua-lan­guage blue-rock move­ment called Uch­pa. Now her fam­i­ly helps her record her own songs in their music school. But like most young artists she began with cov­ers. See her play a Quechua ver­sion of “House of the Ris­ing Sun” as a 14-year-old con­test win­ner, fur­ther up; see her very first con­cert, at the same age, in her home­town of Ayacu­cho, below. And see what she’s been up to since then in the videos above and on her YouTube chan­nel.

via NYTimes

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peru­vian Schol­ar Writes & Defends the First The­sis Writ­ten in Quechua, the Main Lan­guage of the Incan Empire

Opti­cal Scan­ning Tech­nol­o­gy Lets Researchers Recov­er Lost Indige­nous Lan­guages from Old Wax Cylin­der Record­ings

200+ Films by Indige­nous Direc­tors Now Free to View Online: A New Archive Launched by the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da

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

Watch Jean-Luc Godard’s Filmmaking Masterclass on Instagram

As the last liv­ing major French New Wave direc­tor, Jean-Luc Godard has become a kind of ora­cle for younger film­mak­ers and cinéastes. Despite hav­ing turned 89 last Decem­ber, he remains in a sense what film schol­ar David Bor­d­well not long ago called “the youngest film­mak­er at work today.” When Godard start­ed work­ing in cin­e­ma just about 65 years ago, it did­n’t take him long to make his name by break­ing its rules. Ever since, he’s ward­ed off com­pla­cen­cy by con­tin­u­ing to rethink, at the most fun­da­men­tal lev­el, not just film but the nature of images, sounds and words them­selves. And he pur­sues this line of think­ing in any avail­able medi­um, includ­ing, as demon­strat­ed in the con­ver­sa­tion above on “images in the time of the coro­n­avirus,” Insta­gram Live.

This form, as a film­mak­er like Godard would sure­ly appre­ci­ate, suits the sub­stance. No venue could be more of the moment than Insta­gram Live, as per­form­ers of all kinds have tak­en to stream­ing them­selves from home in the midst of the glob­al pan­dem­ic. But where many such fig­ures use the oppor­tu­ni­ty to take view­ers’ minds off the coro­n­avirus, Godard and his inter­view­er Lionel Baier, head of the cin­e­ma depart­ment at Lau­san­ne’s ECAL Uni­ver­si­ty of Art and Design, use it as a start­ing point. What begins as a dis­cus­sion of Godard­’s news-watch­ing habits turns into a con­ver­sa­tion­al jour­ney across such sub­jects as film­mak­ing, writ­ing, paint­ing, phi­los­o­phy, sci­ence, med­i­cine, law, and lan­guage. “I don’t believe in lan­guage,” goes one of Godard­’s char­ac­ter­is­tic pro­nounce­ments. “What needs to be changed is the alpha­bet. There are too many let­ters and we should delete lots of them.”

Per­haps that does­n’t come as a sur­prise from a direc­tor whose recent pic­tures include one called Good­bye to Lan­guage. But spo­ken or filmed, Godard­’s ideas on the mat­ter also reflect his per­son­al expe­ri­ence: he tells of hav­ing for a time lost the mem­o­ry of names of cer­tain fruits and veg­eta­bles, and con­se­quent­ly devel­op­ing a visu­al method of remem­ber­ing his gro­cery lists. Such every­day sto­ries come along with ref­er­ences to a wide range of artists, sci­en­tists, philoso­phers, and “adven­tur­ers” in his­to­ry, espe­cial­ly from the his­to­ry of the Fran­coph­o­ne world. More than once aris­es the name of Nicéphore Niépce, the 19th-cen­tu­ry French inven­tor respon­si­ble for the first known pho­to­graph ever tak­en (pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture) and a sub­ject of one of Godard­’s cur­rent works-in-progress.

“In the film I’m going to make,” Godard explains, “I ask what Niépce believed he was doing or what his inten­tions were when he sim­ply want­ed to copy real­i­ty.” All through­out his decades as a film­mak­er, Godard has clear­ly kept ask­ing the same ques­tion about him­self: in mak­ing films, does he want to “copy real­i­ty” or do some­thing more inter­est­ing? For­tu­nate­ly for cin­e­ma, he always seems to have opt­ed for the lat­ter, back to his days with his Nou­velle Vague com­pa­tri­ots François Truf­faut, Jacques Riv­ette, Claude Chabrol, and Éric Rohmer, all of whom fig­ure into his rem­i­nis­cences here. And will COVID-19 fig­ure in a future Godard film? “It’ll have an influ­ence but not direct­ly,” he says. “The virus should def­i­nite­ly be talked about once or twice. With every­thing that comes with it, the virus is a form of com­mu­ni­ca­tion. It does­n’t mean we’re going to die from it, but we might not live very well with it either.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Intro­duc­tion to Jean-Luc Godard’s Inno­v­a­tive Film­mak­ing Through Five Video Essays

How the French New Wave Changed Cin­e­ma: A Video Intro­duc­tion to the Films of Godard, Truf­faut & Their Fel­low Rule-Break­ers

Jean-Luc Godard Takes Cannes’ Rejec­tion of Breath­less in Stride in 1960 Inter­view

How Jean-Luc Godard Lib­er­at­ed Cin­e­ma: A Video Essay on How the Great­est Rule-Break­er in Film Made His Name

Jean-Luc Godard Gives a Dra­mat­ic Read­ing of Han­nah Arendt’s “On the Nature of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism”

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.

The Art of the New Deal: Why the Federal Government Funded the Arts During the Great Depression

It’s odd to think that the gray-faced, gray-suit­ed U.S. Cold War­riors of the 1950s fund­ed Abstract Expres­sion­ism and left-wing lit­er­ary mag­a­zines in a cul­tur­al offen­sive against the Sovi­et Union. And yet they did. This seem­ing his­tor­i­cal irony is com­pound­ed by the fact that so many of the artists enlist­ed (most­ly unwit­ting­ly) in the cul­tur­al Cold War might not have had careers were it not for the New Deal pro­grams of 20 years ear­li­er, denounced by Repub­li­cans at the time as com­mu­nist.

The New Deal faced fierce oppo­si­tion, and its pas­sage involved some very unfor­tu­nate com­pro­mis­es. But for artists, it was a major boon. Pro­grams estab­lished under the Works Progress Admin­is­tra­tion in 1935 helped thou­sands of artists sur­vive until they could get back to ply­ing trades, work­ing as pro­fes­sion­als, or build­ing world-famous careers. Artists and art work­ers once sup­port­ed by the WPA include Dorothea Lange, Langston Hugh­es, Orson Welles, Ralph Elli­son, Zora Neale Hurston, Gor­don Parks, Alan Lomax, Mark Rothko, Jack­son Pol­lock, James Agee, and dozens more famous names.

There were also thou­sands of unknown painters, pho­tog­ra­phers, sculp­tors, poets, dancers, play­wrights, etc. who received fund­ing in their local areas to put their skills to work. “Through the WPA,” the Nation­al Gallery of Art writes, artists “par­tic­i­pat­ed in gov­ern­ment employ­ment pro­grams in every state and coun­ty in the nation.” As to the ques­tion of whether their work deserved to be paid, “Har­ry Hop­kins,” Jer­ry Adler writes at Smith­son­ian, “whom Pres­i­dent Franklin D. Roo­sevelt put in charge of work relief, set­tled the mat­ter, say­ing, ‘”Hell, they’ve got to eat just like oth­er peo­ple!”

He turns the ques­tion about who “deserves” relief on its head. Dance may not be nec­es­sary by some people’s lights but eat­ing most cer­tain­ly is. Why shouldn’t artists use their tal­ent to beau­ti­fy the coun­try, col­lect and archive its cul­tur­al his­to­ry, and pro­vide qual­i­ty enter­tain­ment in uncer­tain times? And why should­n’t the coun­try’s artists doc­u­ment the enor­mous build­ing projects under­way, and the major shifts hap­pen­ing in peo­ple’s lives, for pos­ter­i­ty?

Roo­sevelt, tak­ing many of his cues from Eleanor, spoke of fund­ing the arts in much grander terms than the prag­mat­ic Hop­kins. He elab­o­rat­ed on his belief in their “essen­tial” nature in a speech at the ded­i­ca­tion of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art’s new build­ing in 1939:

Art in Amer­i­ca has always belonged to the peo­ple and has nev­er been the prop­er­ty of an acad­e­my or a class. The great Trea­sury projects, through which our pub­lic build­ings are being dec­o­rat­ed, are an excel­lent exam­ple of the con­ti­nu­ity of this tra­di­tion. The Fed­er­al Art Project of the Works Progress Admin­is­tra­tion is a prac­ti­cal relief project which also empha­sizes the best tra­di­tion of the demo­c­ra­t­ic spir­it. The W.P.A. artist, in ren­der­ing his own impres­sion of things, speaks also for the spir­it of his fel­low coun­try­men every­where. I think the W.P.A. artist exem­pli­fies with great force the essen­tial place which the arts have in a demo­c­ra­t­ic soci­ety such as ours.

In the future we must seek more wide­spread pop­u­lar under­stand­ing and appre­ci­a­tion of the arts. Many of our great cities pro­vide the facil­i­ties for such appre­ci­a­tion. But we all know that because of their lack of size and rich­es the small­er com­mu­ni­ties are in most cas­es denied this oppor­tu­ni­ty. That is why I give spe­cial empha­sis to the need of giv­ing these small­er com­mu­ni­ties the visu­al chance to get to know mod­ern art.

As in our democ­ra­cy we enjoy the right to believe in dif­fer­ent reli­gious creeds or in none, so can Amer­i­can artists express them­selves with com­plete free­dom from the stric­tures of dead artis­tic tra­di­tion or polit­i­cal ide­ol­o­gy. While Amer­i­can artists have dis­cov­ered a new oblig­a­tion to the soci­ety in which they live, they have no com­pul­sion to be lim­it­ed in method or man­ner of expres­sion.

He began the address with sev­er­al airy phras­es about free­dom and lib­er­ty; here, he defines what that looks like for the artist—the abil­i­ty to have dig­ni­fied work and liveli­hood, and to oper­ate with full cre­ative free­dom. Of course, artists, espe­cial­ly those employed in dec­o­rat­ing pub­lic build­ings, were con­strained by cer­tain “Amer­i­can” themes. But they could inter­pret those themes broad­ly, and they did, pic­tur­ing scenes of hard­ship and leisure, recov­er­ing the past and imag­in­ing bet­ter futures.

It could­n’t last. “The WPA-era art pro­grams reflect­ed a trend toward the democ­ra­ti­za­tion of the arts in the Unit­ed States and a striv­ing to devel­op a unique­ly Amer­i­can and broad­ly inclu­sive cul­tur­al life,” the Nation­al Gallery explains. Art from this peri­od “offers a win­dow through which to explore the social con­di­tions of the Depres­sion, the main­stream­ing of art and birth of ‘pub­lic art,’ and the open­ing of gov­ern­ment employ­ment to women and African Amer­i­cans.” Oppo­nents of the pro­grams pushed back with red bait­ing. Arts fund­ing under the WPA was end­ed in 1943 by a Con­gress, says schol­ar of the peri­od Fran­cis O’Connor, who could “look at two blades of grass and see a ham­mer and sick­le.”

See much more New Deal art–including plays, pho­tog­ra­phy, art posters and more–at the Nation­al Gallery of Art, the Nation­al ArchivesSmith­son­ian, and at the links below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Yale Presents an Archive of 170,000 Pho­tographs Doc­u­ment­ing the Great Depres­sion

Strik­ing Poster Col­lec­tion from the Great Depres­sion Shows That the US Gov­ern­ment Once Sup­port­ed the Arts in Amer­i­ca

Young Orson Welles Directs “Voodoo Mac­beth,” the First Shake­speare Pro­duc­tion With An All-Black Cast: Footage from 1936

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

Take a Virtual Tour of the World’s Only Sourdough Library

There’s 15-year-old Pre­cious from the Nether­lands…

And Bub­ble from Aus­tralia, age 4…

Yeasty Beasty Methuse­lah, from Twin Falls, Ida­ho, is esti­mat­ed to be around 50…

Every sour­dough starter is spe­cial to the ones who made or main­tain it, but of the 1000s reg­is­tered online with Quest for Sour­dough, only 125 have earned a per­ma­nent place in the Puratos Sour­dough Library in Saint-Vith, Bel­gium. It’s the world’s only library ded­i­cat­ed to Sour­dough, and you can take a vir­tu­al tour here.

Housed in iden­ti­cal jars in a muse­um-qual­i­ty refrig­er­at­ed cab­i­nets, these her­itage starters have been care­ful­ly select­ed by librar­i­an Karl De Smedt, above, who trav­els the world vis­it­ing bak­eries, tast­ing bread, and learn­ing the sto­ries behind each sam­ple that enters the col­lec­tion.

As De Smedt recalls in an inter­view with the Sour­dough Pod­cast, the idea for the muse­um began tak­ing shape when a Lebanese bak­er reached out to Puratos, a hun­dred-year-old com­pa­ny that sup­plies com­mer­cial bak­ers and pas­try mak­ers with essen­tials of the trade. The man’s sons returned from a bak­ing expo in Paris and informed their dad that when they took over, they planned to retire his time-hon­ored prac­tice of bak­ing with fer­ment­ed chick­peas in favor of instant yeast. Wor­ried that his prized recipe would be lost to his­to­ry, he appealed to Puratos to help pre­serve his pro­to­cols.

While fer­ment­ed chick­peas do not count as sourdough—a com­bi­na­tion of flour, water, and the result­ing microor­gan­isms this mar­riage gives rise to over time—the com­pa­ny had recent­ly col­lect­ed and ana­lyzed 43 ven­er­a­ble starters. The bulk came from Italy, includ­ing one from Alta­mu­ra, the “city of bread, pro­duc­er of what Horace called in 37 B.C. ‘the best bread to be had, so good that the wise trav­el­er takes a sup­ply of it for his onward jour­ney.’”

Thus was a non-cir­cu­lat­ing library born.

Each spec­i­men is ana­lyzed by food micro­bi­ol­o­gist Mar­co Gob­bet­ti from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Bolzano and Bari.

A col­lab­o­ra­tion with North Car­oli­na State Uni­ver­si­ty biol­o­gists Rob Dunn and Anne Mad­den revealed that sour­dough bak­ers’ hands share dis­tinct microbes with their starters.

More than 1100 strains of microor­gan­isms have been record­ed so far.

Every two months, the starters are tak­en out of the fridge and fed, i.e. reac­ti­vat­ed, with a com­bi­na­tion of water and some of their flour of ori­gin, year­ly quan­ti­ties of which are con­tributed by their bak­ers. With­out this reg­u­lar care, the starters will die off.

(The pan­dem­ic has De Smedt work­ing from home, but he inti­mat­ed to The New York Times that he intend­ed to make it back to feed his babies, or “moth­ers” as they are known in sour­dough cir­cles.)

#72 from Mex­i­co feeds on eggs, lime and beer

#100 from Japan is made of cooked sake rice.

#106 is a vet­er­an of the Gold Rush.

Their con­sis­ten­cy is doc­u­ment­ed along a line that ranges from hard to flu­id, with Sil­ly Put­ty in the mid­dle.

Each year, De Smedt expands the col­lec­tion with starters from a dif­fer­ent area of the world. The lat­est addi­tions come from Turkey, and are doc­u­ment­ed in the mouth­wa­ter­ing trav­el­ogue above.

For now, of course, he’s ground­ed in Bel­gium, and using his Insta­gram account to pro­vide encour­age­ment to oth­er sour­dough prac­ti­tion­ers, answer­ing rook­ie ques­tions and show­ing off some of the loaves pro­duced by his own per­son­al starters, Bar­bara and Aman­da.

Reg­is­ter your starter on Quest for Sour­dough here.

If you haven’t yet tak­en the sour­dough plunge, you can par­tic­i­pate in North Car­oli­na State University’s Wild Sour­dough Project by fol­low­ing their instruc­tions on mak­ing a starter from scratch and then sub­mit­ting your data here.

And bide your time until you’re cleared to vis­it the Puratos Sour­dough Library in per­son by tak­ing an inter­ac­tive vir­tu­al tour or watch­ing a com­plete playlist of De Smedt’s col­lect­ing trips here.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

How to Bake Ancient Roman Bread Dat­ing Back to 79 AD: A Video Primer

An Archive of Hand­writ­ten Tra­di­tion­al Mex­i­can Cook­books Is Now Online

400 Ways to Make a Sand­wich: A 1909 Cook­book Full of Cre­ative Recipes

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her cur­rent starter, Miss Sour­dough, was brought to life with an unholy splash of apple cider. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Doobie Brothers Sing Their 1974 Classic, “Black Water,” Live, in Isolation

The Doo­bie Brothers–they can’t tour this sum­mer and cel­e­brate their 50th anniver­sary. But they can give you this: a per­for­mance of 1974’s “Black Water” per­formed vir­tu­al­ly, live, in iso­la­tion. Make sure you catch the fan con­tri­bu­tions toward the end…

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 20 ) |

The Stay At Home Museum: Your Private, Guided Tours of Rubens, Bruegel & Other Flemish Masters

Of the many world class muse­ums treat­ing a stuck-at-home pub­lic to vir­tu­al tours of their col­lec­tions, none inspire the resolve for future trav­el as the Stay At Home Muse­um, an ini­tia­tive of the Flan­ders tourism board.

Before the COVID-19 epi­dem­ic response demand­ed the tem­po­rary shut­ter­ing of all such attrac­tions, the region was enter­ing the final year of a 3‑year fes­ti­val cel­e­brat­ing such Flem­ish mas­ters as Jan Van EyckPieter Bruegel, and Peter Paul Rubens.

Its web­site appeals to young, hip vis­i­tors by match­ing inter­ests with celebri­ty tour guides: Bac­chus (as ren­dered by Rubens) for eat­ing and drink­ing in an arty atmos­phere and Rubens’ Venus for cul­tur­al­ly respon­si­ble shop­ping and dia­mond admir­ing.

Oth­er entic­ing prospects we can’t take advan­tage of at present:

A down­load­able Bruegel walk­ing tour map

Rubens-inspired beer tourism

A Flem­ish Mas­ters itin­er­ary for chil­dren

An open air aug­ment­ed real­i­ty expe­ri­ence based on Bruegel’s The Fight Between Car­ni­val and Lent

Our sad­ness at miss­ing these can­not be chalked up to FOMO. Right now, the whole world is miss­ing out.

So, con­sid­er the Stay At Home Muse­um a pre­view, some­thing to help us enjoy our trips to the region all the more at some point in the future, by edu­cat­ing our­selves on the painters who made Flan­ders famous.

The series is also a treat for the Zoom weary. The expert guides aren’t fac­ing their web­cams at home, but rather using their high lev­el access to lead us through the emp­ty muse­ums in which the exhibits are still installed.

No jostling…

No crowd­ing in front of the most cel­e­brat­ed pieces…

No inane lunch-relat­ed chat­ter from tourists who aren’t into art as deeply as you are…

Above, Van Eyck expert Till-Hol­ger Borchert, Direc­tor of Musea Bruges, ori­ents us to the artist and his work, most notably the Ghent altar­piece, aka Ado­ra­tion of the Mys­tic Lamb, a 12-pan­el polyp­tych that Van Eyck worked on with Hugo, the old­er broth­er who died 6 years before its com­ple­tion.

Pay close atten­tion to Adam and Eve’s body hair. Borchert cer­tain­ly does.

He also sheds a lot of inter­est­ing light on the sig­nif­i­cance of mate­ri­als, fram­ing choic­es, and com­po­si­tion.

The restored altar­piece was slat­ed to be rein­stalled in its orig­i­nal home of Ghent’s Saint Bavo’s Cathe­dral, fol­low­ing the sched­uled clos­ing of Jan van Eyck: An Opti­cal Rev­o­lu­tion—April 30, 2020.

The Roy­al Muse­um of Fine Art’s direc­tor Michel Draguet takes us on a French-speak­ing jour­ney inside Bruegel’s paint­ing, The Fall of the Rebel Angels.

Ben Van Bene­den, the direc­tor of the Rubens House, invites us into Ruben’s “art gallery room”—something no self-respect­ing wealthy poly­glot diplomat/aesthete who’s also a Baroque painter would do with­out, appar­ent­ly.

The peek at Rubens’ gar­den is nice too, espe­cial­ly for those of us with no pri­vate out­door space of our own.

Jump­ing ahead to the Bel­gian avant-garde of the late nine­teenth and ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­turies, cura­tor Mieke Mels of Ostennd’s the Mu.ZEE spills the beans on why native son, James Ensor, shield­ed his 1888 mas­ter­piece Christ’s Entry into Brus­sels from the pub­lic view for 3 decades.

This episode has been trans­lat­ed into Inter­na­tion­al Sign Lan­guage for deaf and hear­ing impaired view­ers.

A fifth and alleged­ly final episode is forth­com­ing. View a playlist of all Stay At Home Muse­um episodes here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of 30 World-Class Muse­ums & Safe­ly Vis­it 2 Mil­lion Works of Fine Art

14 Paris Muse­ums Put 300,000 Works of Art Online: Down­load Clas­sics by Mon­et, Cézanne & More

The British Muse­um Puts 1.9 Mil­lion Works of Art Online

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. It’s been so long since she vis­it­ed Bel­gium, she can’t remem­ber if her indis­cre­tion in the Bruges youth hos­tel made it into her trav­el mem­oir, No Touch Mon­key! And Oth­er Trav­el Lessons Learned Too Late. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast
Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.