A Magical Look Inside the Painting Process of Studio Ghibli Artist Kazuo Oga

The mag­ic of Stu­dio Ghi­b­li’s films owes much to their char­ac­ters: the high-fly­ing Princess Nau­si­caä of the Val­ley of the Wind; the World War I‑fighter ace-turned-swine Por­co Rosso; the spir­it­ed ten-year-old Chi­hi­ro, spir­it­ed away into the realm of folk­lore; the dog-rac­coon-bear-cat for­est spir­it known only as Totoro. But to under­stand what makes these fig­ures come alive, we must remem­ber that they inhab­it liv­ing worlds. A Ghi­b­li pro­duc­tion stands or falls (which would still count as an artis­tic tri­umph at most oth­er stu­dios) on not just char­ac­ter design and ani­ma­tion but back­ground art, which demands the kind of care­ful and inspired work you can wit­ness in the video above.

The artist at the desk is Kazuo Oga, a vet­er­an back­ground artist cred­it­ed as art direc­tor on Ghi­b­li’s My Neigh­bor Totoro, Only Yes­ter­day, Pom Poko, Princess Mononoke, and The Tale of Princess Kaguya, among oth­er ani­me projects. His work begins at about 9:30 in the morn­ing, as he brings out a mod­est­ly size sheet of paper and pre­pares its sur­face to receive paint.

24 dif­fer­ent col­ors of Japan­ese-made Nick­er Poster Col­or brand gouache stand ready right near­by, and with them Oga applies the ground, or first lay­er of paint. Even before he takes a seat, a for­est scene has clear­ly begun to emerge. Then down­ward strokes become the thin trunks of its trees, which by the ear­ly after­noon have branch­es.

Broad­ly speak­ing, Oga works from the large details in toward the small, arriv­ing mid­way through the 2:00 hour to the stage of adding light pur­ple flow­ers. These are Paulow­n­ia, called kiri in Japan, where these “princess trees” (that also appear on the offi­cial Gov­ern­ment Seal) car­ry a cer­tain sym­bol­ic weight. The final paint­ing, Paulow­n­ia Rain (or kiri same), emerges only at 3:40 in the after­noon, after six hours of paint­ing. This evoca­tive for­est land­scape attests to the truth of an inver­sion of the Pare­to prin­ci­ple, in that the parts of the job that seem small­est require most of the work to achieve — and to the truth of the Ghi­b­li’s appar­ent artis­tic prin­ci­ple that every pain is worth tak­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Pro­duc­er Toshio Suzu­ki Teach­es You How to Draw Totoro in Two Min­utes

Hayao Miyazaki’s Sketch­es Show­ing How to Draw Char­ac­ters Run­ning: From 1980 Edi­tion of Ani­ma­tion Mag­a­zine

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

A Vir­tu­al Tour Inside the Hayao Miyazaki’s Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Muse­um

Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Makes 1,178 Images Free to Down­load from My Neigh­bor Totoro, Spir­it­ed Away & Oth­er Beloved Ani­mat­ed Films

Watch Every Episode of Bob Ross’ The Joy Of Paint­ing Free Online: 403 Episodes Span­ning 31 Sea­sons

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

A 3,000-Year-Old Painter’s Palette from Ancient Egypt, with Traces of the Original Colors Still In It

It’s a good bet your first box of crayons or water­col­ors was a sim­ple affair of six or so col­ors… just like the palette belong­ing to Amen­emopet, vizier to Pharaoh Amen­hotep III (c.1391 — c.1354 BC), a plea­sure-lov­ing patron of the arts whose rule coin­cid­ed with a peri­od of great pros­per­i­ty.

Amenemopet’s well-used artist’s palette, above, now resides in the Egypt­ian wing of New York City’s Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art.

Over 3000 years old and carved from a sin­gle piece of ivory, the palette is marked “beloved of Re,” a roy­al ref­er­ence to the sun god dear to both Amen­hotep III and Akhen­aton, his son and suc­ces­sor, whose wor­ship of Re resem­bled monothe­ism.

As cura­tor Catharine H. Roehrig notes in the Met­ro­pol­i­tan’s pub­li­ca­tion, Life along the Nile: Three Egyp­tians of Ancient Thebes, the palette “con­tains the six basic col­ors of the Egypt­ian palette, plus two extras: red­dish brown, a mix­ture of red ocher and car­bon; and orange, a mix­ture of orpi­ment (yel­low) and red ocher. The painter could also vary his col­ors by apply­ing a thick­er or thin­ner lay­er of paint or by adding white or black to achieve a lighter or dark­er shade.”

(Care­ful when mix­ing that orpi­ment into your red ocher, kids. It’s a form of arsenic.)

Oth­er min­er­als that would have been ground and com­bined with a nat­ur­al bind­ing agent include gyp­sum, car­bon, iron oxides, blue and green azu­rite and mala­chite.

The col­ors them­selves would have had strong sym­bol­ism for Amen­hotep and his peo­ple, and the artist would have made very delib­er­atereg­u­lat­ed, evenchoic­es as to which pig­ment to load onto his palm fiber brush when dec­o­rat­ing tombs, tem­ples, pub­lic build­ings, and pot­tery.

As Jen­ny Hill writes in Ancient Egypt Onlineiwn—col­orcan also be trans­lat­ed as “dis­po­si­tion,” “char­ac­ter,” “com­plex­ion” or “nature.” She delves into the specifics of each of the six basic col­ors:

Wadj (green) also means “to flour­ish” or “to be healthy.” The hiero­glyph rep­re­sent­ed the papyrus plant as well as the green stone mala­chite (wadj). The col­or green rep­re­sent­ed veg­e­ta­tion, new life and fer­til­i­ty. In an inter­est­ing par­al­lel with mod­ern ter­mi­nol­o­gy, actions which pre­served the fer­til­i­ty of the land or pro­mot­ed life were described as “green.”

Dshr (red) was a pow­er­ful col­or because of its asso­ci­a­tion with blood, in par­tic­u­lar the pro­tec­tive pow­er of the blood of Isis…red could also rep­re­sent anger, chaos and fire and was close­ly asso­ci­at­ed with Set, the unpre­dictable god of storms. Set had red hair, and peo­ple with red hair were thought to be con­nect­ed to him. As a result, the Egyp­tians described a per­son in a fit of rage as hav­ing a “red heart” or as being “red upon” the thing that made them angry. A per­son was described as hav­ing “red eyes” if they were angry or vio­lent. “To red­den” was to die and “mak­ing red” was a euphemism for killing.

Irtyu (blue) was the col­or of the heav­ens and hence rep­re­sent­ed the uni­verse. Many tem­ples, sar­copha­gi and bur­ial vaults have a deep blue roof speck­led with tiny yel­low stars. Blue is also the col­or of the Nile and the primeval waters of chaos (known as Nun).

Khenet (yel­low) rep­re­sent­ed that which was eter­nal and inde­struc­tible, and was close­ly asso­ci­at­ed with gold (nebu or nebw) and the sun. Gold was thought to be the sub­stance which formed the skin of the gods.

Hdj (white) rep­re­sent­ed puri­ty and omnipo­tence. Many sacred ani­mals (hip­po, oxen and cows) were white. White cloth­ing was worn dur­ing reli­gious rit­u­als and to “wear white san­dals” was to be a priest…White was also seen as the oppo­site of red, because of the latter’s asso­ci­a­tion with rage and chaos, and so the two were often paired to rep­re­sent com­plete­ness.

Kem (black) rep­re­sent­ed death and the after­life to the ancient Egyp­tians. Osiris was giv­en the epi­thet “the black one” because he was the king of the nether­world, and both he and Anu­bis (the god of embalm­ing) were por­trayed with black faces. The Egyp­tians also asso­ci­at­ed black with fer­til­i­ty and res­ur­rec­tion because much of their agri­cul­ture was depen­dent on the rich dark silt deposit­ed on the riv­er banks by the Nile dur­ing the inun­da­tion. When used to rep­re­sent res­ur­rec­tion, black and green were inter­change­able.

via My Mod­ern Met

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Won­ders of Ancient Egypt: A Free Online Course from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia

Harvard’s Dig­i­tal Giza Project Lets You Access the Largest Online Archive on the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids (Includ­ing a 3D Giza Tour)

Pyra­mids of Giza: Ancient Egypt­ian Art and Archaeology–a Free Online Course from Har­vard

The Met Dig­i­tal­ly Restores the Col­ors of an Ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple, Using Pro­jec­tion Map­ping Tech­nol­o­gy

Take a 3D Tour Through Ancient Giza, Includ­ing the Great Pyra­mids, the Sphinx & More

What Ancient Egypt­ian Sound­ed Like & How We Know It

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She most recent­ly appeared as a French Cana­di­an bear who trav­els to New York City in search of food and mean­ing in Greg Kotis’ short film, L’Ourse.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

What Can You Do About QAnon?: A Short Take from Documentary Filmmaker Kirby Ferguson

You know that QAnon sup­port­ers fig­ured promi­nent­ly in the Capi­tol insur­rec­tion. Two QAnon con­spir­a­cy the­o­rists now hold seats in Con­gress. And per­haps you read the dis­turb­ing pro­file this week­end about the QAnon sup­port­er who attend­ed the elite Dal­ton School in Man­hat­tan and then Har­vard. So–you’re maybe thinking–it’s final­ly worth under­stand­ing what QAnon is, and what we can do about it. Above, watch a 10 minute Op-Doc from film­mak­er Kir­by Fer­gu­son, whose work we’ve fea­tured here before. As you’ll see, his rec­om­men­da­tions (from late Octo­ber) align with expert advice found in our recent post, How to Talk with a Con­spir­a­cy The­o­rist: What the Experts Rec­om­mend. After the vio­lence of Jan­u­ary 6, how­ev­er, it’s rea­son­able to ask whether we need some­thing more than cod­dling and patience.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Con­stant­ly Wrong: Film­mak­er Kir­by Fer­gu­son Makes the Case Against Con­spir­a­cy The­o­ries

How to Talk with a Con­spir­a­cy The­o­rist: What the Experts Rec­om­mend

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An Origami Samurai Made from a Single Sheet of Rice Paper, Without Any Cutting

Origa­mi artist Juho Könkkölä spent 50 hours fold­ing an origa­mi samu­rai from a sin­gle square sheet of paper, with no cut­ting or rip­ping used in the process. He describes his process on Red­dit:

Fold­ed from a sin­gle square sheet of 95cm x 95cm Wen­zhou rice paper with­out any cut­ting. The fin­ished size of the work is 28cm x 16cm x 19cm. Only dry and wet fold­ing tech­niques were used to fold the mod­el. It took 2 months to design and 1 month to fold, although I was work­ing on few oth­er projects dur­ing that time too.

It took some effort and exper­i­men­ta­tion to fold the tex­ture for the armor, while try­ing to sim­pli­fy it to be some­what man­age­able to fold. I fold­ed 4 rough test attempts in total, and all of them took 3 days to fold each. There are sev­er­al hun­dreds of steps to fold it from the square and there are prob­a­bly thou­sands of indi­vid­ual folds. The asym­me­try in the design allowed me to include sword on only one arm, while being able to make the char­ac­ter look sym­met­ric.

Find the fin­ished prod­uct below. Watch the cre­ative process, from start to fin­ish, above.

via Twist­ed Sifter

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book and BlueSky.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

MIT Cre­ates Amaz­ing Self-Fold­ing Origa­mi Robots & Leap­ing Chee­tah Robots

The Art of Tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese Wood Join­ery: A Kyoto Wood­work­er Shows How Japan­ese Car­pen­ters Cre­at­ed Wood Struc­tures With­out Nails or Glue

Design­er Cre­ates Origa­mi Card­board Tents to Shel­ter the Home­less from the Win­ter Cold

Down­load Clas­sic Japan­ese Wave and Rip­ple Designs: A Go-to Guide for Japan­ese Artists from 1903

Hun­dreds of Won­der­ful Japan­ese Fire­work Designs from the Ear­ly-1900s: Dig­i­tized and Free to Down­load

MIT’s Introduction to Economics: A Free Online Course

From MIT comes a free intro­duc­to­ry under­grad­u­ate course on Micro­eco­nom­ics. Taught by Pro­fes­sor Jonathan Gru­ber, the 25-lec­ture course cov­ers the fun­da­men­tals of micro­eco­nom­ics, includ­ing “sup­ply and demand, mar­ket equi­lib­ri­um, con­sumer the­o­ry, pro­duc­tion and the behav­ior of firms, monop­oly, oli­gop­oly, wel­fare eco­nom­ics, pub­lic goods, and exter­nal­i­ties.” Watch the lec­tures above (or on YouTube). Find the syl­labus and lec­tures notes on MIT’s site. Cours­era also offers a host of oth­er econ cours­es.

Prin­ci­ples of Micro­eco­nom­ics will be added to the Eco­nom­ics sec­tion of our meta list, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book and BlueSky.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cours­era Offers $100 Off of Cours­era Plus (Until Jan­u­ary 20), Giv­ing You Unlim­it­ed Access to Cours­es & Cer­tifi­cates

Free Online Eco­nom­ics & Finance Cours­es

Eco­nom­ics 101: Hedge Fund Investor Ray Dalio Explains How the Econ­o­my Works in a 30-Minute Ani­mat­ed Video

An Intro­duc­tion to Great Econ­o­mists — Adam Smith, the Phys­iocrats & More — Pre­sent­ed in New MOOC

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Take a New Virtual Reality Tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

You can go to the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art today, and in real life at that. This isn’t true of all the world’s great art insti­tu­tions, still shut down as many are by mea­sures in response to the past year’s coro­n­avirus pan­dem­ic. But then, none of them have offered a dig­i­tal vis­it­ing expe­ri­ence quite like The Met Unframed, recent­ly launched in part­ner­ship with cell­phone ser­vice provider Ver­i­zon. For a peri­od of five weeks, any­one can join and freely roam a vir­tu­al recon­struc­tion, or rather reimag­in­ing, of the Met and its gal­leries. There they’ll encounter paint­ings by Pol­lock, Van Gogh, and Rem­brandt, as well as work by cur­rent artists and majes­tic arti­facts from antiq­ui­ty.

“Upon enter­ing the web­site, vis­i­tors are wel­comed to the museum’s Great Hall with a view of Kent Monkman’s dip­tych mist­ikôsi­wak: Wood­en Boat Peo­ple (2019),” writes Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Hakim Bishara. “From there, ban­ners offer broad the­mat­ic con­cepts — Pow­er, Home, Nature, and Jour­ney — through which vis­i­tors can explore the gal­leries.”

Embed­ded in cer­tain pieces of art, you’ll find not just his­tor­i­cal details and audio-tour expla­na­tions but mini-games, which “include triv­ia ques­tions and rid­dles that encour­age close obser­va­tion of the art­works and labels. A game called ‘Analy­sis’ uses the Met’s infrared and X‑ray con­ser­va­tion scans of paint­ings to reveal under­draw­ings and oth­er hid­den details of well-known paint­ings.”

Win enough such games, and you’ll get the chance to “bor­row” the art­work you’ve clicked to dis­play, through aug­ment­ed real­i­ty, in your space of choice — for fif­teen min­utes, at least. At Art­net, crit­ic Ben Davis writes of plac­ing here and there around his apart­ment Fred­er­ic Edwin Church’s Heart of the Andes, Jacob Lawrence’s The Pho­tog­ra­ph­er, and a Baby Yoda-scaled ver­sion of Rem­brandt’s Self-Por­trait. He even makes a seri­ous if ulti­mate­ly frus­trat­ed effort to win dig­i­tal bor­row­ing rights to the ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple of Den­dur, one of the Met’s pièces de résis­tance since the late 1970s.

To expe­ri­ence The Met Unframed for your­self, just head over to its web site and use your phone to scan the QR code that comes up (if you’re not brows­ing on your phone in the first place). You’ll then be tak­en straight to the vir­tu­al Great Hall, which you can nav­i­gate by swip­ing in any direc­tion — or phys­i­cal­ly mov­ing your phone around, if you’ve enabled gyro­scope mode — and tap­ping the icons glow­ing along the ground or on the walls. The com­bi­na­tion of high tech­nol­o­gy, his­tor­i­cal ref­er­ence, depop­u­lat­ed but ele­gant­ly designed set­tings, puz­zle chal­lenges, and a score in which syn­the­siz­ers meet ambi­ent noise will remind vis­i­tors of a cer­tain age of noth­ing so much as the adven­ture games of the ear­ly 1990s, espe­cial­ly Myst and its clones. But then, what does a muse­um do if not unite the past and the present?

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Unbe­liev­ably Detailed, Hand-Drawn Map Lets You Explore the Rich Col­lec­tions of the Met Muse­um

Down­load 584 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Puts 400,000 High-Res Images Online & Makes Them Free to Use

Down­load 50,000 Art Books & Cat­a­logs from the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art’s Dig­i­tal Col­lec­tions

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

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

The Anti-Gluttony Door in Portugal’s Alcobaça Monastery Shamed Plump Monks to Start Fasting

Con­sid­er that you eat the sins of the peo­ple

—inscrip­tion carved above the entrance to the Monastery of Alcobaça’s refec­to­ry

Appar­ent­ly, the Monastery of Alcobaça’s res­i­dent monks were eat­ing plen­ty of oth­er things, too.

Even­tu­al­ly their rep­u­ta­tion for exces­sive plump­ness became prob­lem­at­ic.

A hefty physique may have sig­ni­fied pros­per­i­ty and health in 1178 when con­struc­tion began on the UNESCO World Her­itage site, but by the 18th-cen­tu­ry, those extra rolls of flesh were con­sid­ered at odds with the Cis­ter­cian monks’ vows of obe­di­ence, pover­ty and chasti­ty.

Its larders were well stocked, thanks in part to the rich farm­land sur­round­ing the monastery.

18th-cen­tu­ry trav­el­er William Beck­ford described the kitchen in Rec­ol­lec­tions of an Excur­sion to the Monas­ter­ies of Alcobaça and Batal­ha:

On one side, loads of game and veni­son were heaped up; on the oth­er, veg­eta­bles and fruit in end­less vari­ety. Beyond a long line of stoves extend­ed a row of ovens, and close to them hillocks of wheat­en flour whiter than snow, rocks of sug­ar, jars of the purest oil, and pas­try in vast abun­dance, which a numer­ous tribe of lay broth­ers and their atten­dants were rolling out and puff­ing up into a hun­dred dif­fer­ent shapes, singing all the while as blithe­ly as larks in a corn-field.

Lat­er he has the oppor­tu­ni­ty to sam­ple some of the dish­es issu­ing from that kitchen:

The ban­quet itself con­sist­ed of not only the most excel­lent usu­al fare, but rar­i­ties and del­i­ca­cies of past sea­sons and dis­tant coun­tries; exquis­ite sausages, pot­ted lam­preys, strange mess­es from the Brazils, and oth­ers still stranger from Chi­na (edi­ble birds’ nests and sharks’ fins), dressed after the lat­est mode of Macao by a Chi­nese lay broth­er. Con­fec­tionery and fruits were out of the ques­tion here; they await­ed us in an adjoin­ing still more spa­cious and sump­tu­ous apart­ment, to which we retired from the efflu­via of viands and sauces.

Lat­er in his trav­els, he is tak­en to meet a Span­ish princess, who inquires, “How did you leave the fat wad­dling monks of Alcobaça? I hope you did not run races with them.”

Per­haps such tat­tle is what con­vinced the brass that some­thing must be done.

The rem­e­dy took the form of a por­ta pega-gor­do (or “fat catch­er door”), 6′ 6″ high, but only 12.5” wide.

Keep in mind that David Bowie, at his most slen­der, had a 26” waist.

Alleged­ly, each monk was required to pass through it from the refec­to­ry to the kitchen to fetch his own meal. Those who couldn’t squeeze through were out of luck.

Did they have to sit in the refec­to­ry with their faces to the walls, silent­ly eat­ing the sins of the peo­ple (respicite quia pec­ca­ta pop­uli comedi­tis) while their slim­mer brethren filled their bel­lies, also silent­ly, face-to-the-wall, as a read­er read reli­gious texts aloud from a pul­pit?

His­to­ry is a bit unclear on this point, though Beckford’s enthu­si­asm waned when he got to the refec­to­ry:

…a square of sev­en­ty or eighty feet, begloomed by dark-coloured paint­ed win­dows, and dis­graced by tables cov­ered with not the clean­est or least unc­tu­ous linen in the world.

Accord­ing to a Ger­man Wikipedia entry, the monks passed through the por­ta pega-gor­do month­ly, rather than dai­ly, a more man­age­able mor­ti­fi­ca­tion of the flesh for those with healthy appetites.

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

If you are assem­bling a buck­et list of des­ti­na­tions for when we can trav­el freely again, con­sid­er adding this beau­ti­ful Goth­ic monastery (and the cel­e­brat­ed pas­try shop across the street). Your choice whether or not to suck it in for a pho­to in front of the por­ta pega-gor­do.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Medieval Monks Com­plained About Con­stant Dis­trac­tions: Learn How They Worked to Over­come Them

Moun­tain Monks: A Vivid Short Doc­u­men­tary on the Monks Who Prac­tice an Ancient, Once-For­bid­den Reli­gion in Japan

How Tibetan Monks Use Med­i­ta­tion to Raise Their Periph­er­al Body Tem­per­a­ture 16–17 Degrees

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She most recent­ly appeared as a French Cana­di­an bear who trav­els to New York City in search of food and mean­ing in Greg Kotis’ short film, L’Ourse.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

David Lynch’s Projection Instructions for Mulholland Drive (2001)

David Lynch is known for being per­snick­ety about deliv­er­ing the cor­rect view­ing expe­ri­ence to his audi­ence, as he con­sid­ers the cin­e­ma a sacred place. In a doc­u­men­tary short a few years back, he explained, “It’s so mag­i­cal, I don’t know why, to go into a the­ater and have the lights go down. It’s very qui­et and then the cur­tains start to open. And then you go into a world.”

How­ev­er, the cin­e­math­eque is also the space where direc­tors have the least con­trol. They can hope that each print that goes out has been print­ed cor­rect­ly (espe­cial­ly dur­ing the days of film), or that the sound is clear and/or loud enough, but, in a wide release, hope is all direc­tors can do most of the time. There are excep­tions: Stan­ley Kubrick over­saw the rere­lease prints of his films. And Alfred Hitch­cock demand­ed that there would be no late seat­ing for Psy­cho-—a tac­tic that worked to the film’s advan­tage.

This card (above) from David Lynch came with every print of Mul­hol­land Dri­ve that was sent out to the­aters. “I under­stand this is an unusu­al request yet I do need your help,” he writes. Lynch asks that the vol­ume be raised 3db and that the image be giv­en a tad more head­room.

John Neff, in a post on the Face­book Lynch­land group, explained the card: “The vol­ume request was because when we heard it in the Direc­tor’s Guild The­ater for the cast and crew screen­ing, David thought it was too qui­et. The pic­ture head­room request was because of the orig­i­nal TV aspect ratio. These con­cerns have been addressed in all for­mat releas­es since the orig­i­nal DVD release.”

Mul­hol­land Dri­ve was orig­i­nal­ly shot, or rather, the first half of the film was shot as a tele­vi­sion pilot for ABC, so a 16:9 (1.78:1) aspect ratio was expect­ed. But when the stu­dios passed on the pilot, Lynch fin­ished the film as a stand­alone fea­ture. Cin­e­mas matt pro­jec­tions at 1.85:1, cut­ting down on the head­room. (None of this effects the orig­i­nal neg­a­tive, which is stan­dard 35mm.)

Lynch sim­i­lar­ly cares about home view­ers. The first direc­tor-approved box set of his short films came with a sim­i­lar, Lynch-cre­at­ed cal­i­bra­tion video so you could con­trol the col­or and the white bal­ance. And one of the rea­sons fans keep wait­ing for a prop­er Blu-Ray release of Lost High­way is that Lynch has yet to over­see a prop­er trans­fer. When Kino Lor­ber released theirs in 2019, Lynch took to Twit­ter to tell fans to skip it: “Dear Twit­ter Friends, A Blu-ray of LOST HIGHWAY will be released very soon. It was made from old ele­ments and NOT from a restora­tion of the orig­i­nal neg­a­tive. I hope that a ver­sion from the restora­tion of the orig­i­nal neg­a­tive will hap­pen as soon as pos­si­ble.”

As far as I know, he has not weighed in on the cur­rent prob­lems asso­ci­at­ed with HDTVs, but Tom Cruise has been tak­ing care of that. And what­ev­er you do, do not watch Mul­hol­land Dri­ve on your iPhone.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch an Epic, 4‑Hour Video Essay on the Mak­ing & Mythol­o­gy of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

David Lynch Explains How Sim­ple Dai­ly Habits Enhance His Cre­ativ­i­ty

David Lynch Being a Mad­man for a Relent­less 8 Min­utes and 30 Sec­onds

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.