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, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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.

Why Should You Read Toni Morrison’s Beloved? An Animated Video Makes the Case

“Tell me,” said Beloved, smil­ing a wide hap­py smile. “Tell me your dia­monds.”

The unfor­get­table por­tray­al of Beloved, the mys­te­ri­ous, 20-year-old woman (Thandie Newton)—who appears in Sethe’s (Oprah Win­frey) home mys­te­ri­ous­ly just as the infant ghost haunt­ing the fam­i­ly disappears—leaves an indeli­ble image in the mind’s eye in Jonathan Demme’s 1998 film. We may learn about the his­to­ry of slav­ery in the U.S. through a wealth of recov­ered data and his­tor­i­cal sources. But to under­stand its psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­rors, and the lin­ger­ing trau­ma of its sur­vivors, we must turn to works of the imag­i­na­tion like Beloved.

So why not just watch the movie? It’s excel­lent, grant­ed, but noth­ing can take the place of Toni Morrison’s prose. Her “ver­sa­til­i­ty and tech­ni­cal and emo­tion­al range appear to know no bounds,” wrote Mar­garet Atwood in her 1987 review of the nov­el. “If there were any doubts about her stature as a pre-emi­nent Amer­i­can nov­el­ist, of her own or any oth­er gen­er­a­tion, Beloved will put them to rest.” The nov­el’s Amer­i­can goth­ic nar­ra­tive recalls the “mag­nif­i­cent prac­ti­cal­i­ty” of haunt­ing in Wuther­ing Heights. “All the main char­ac­ters in the book believe in ghosts, so it’s mere­ly nat­ur­al for this one to be there.”

“Every­one at 124 Blue­stone Road,” the Ted-Ed video les­son by Yen Pham begins, “knows their house is haunt­ed. But there’s no mys­tery about the spir­it tor­ment­ing them. This ghost is the prod­uct of an unspeak­able trau­ma.” Demme’s film dra­ma­tizes the hor­rors Sethe endured, and com­mit­ted, and tells the sto­ry of the Sweet Home plan­ta­tion and its after­math upon her fam­i­ly. What it can­not con­vey is the novel’s treat­ment of “a bar­bar­ic his­to­ry that hangs over much more than this home­stead.”

For this greater res­o­nance, we must turn to Morrison’s book, writ­ten, Atwood says, “in an anti­min­i­mal­ist prose that is by turns rich, grace­ful, eccen­tric, rough, lyri­cal, sin­u­ous, col­lo­qui­al and very much to the point.” The nov­el brings us into con­tact with the human expe­ri­ence of enslave­ment:

Through the dif­fer­ent voic­es and mem­o­ries of the book, includ­ing that of Sethe’s moth­er, a sur­vivor of the infa­mous slave-ship cross­ing, we expe­ri­ence Amer­i­can slav­ery as it was lived by those who were its objects of exchange, both at its best—which wasn’t very good—and at its worst, which was as bad as can be imag­ined. Above all, it is seen as one of the most vicious­ly antifam­i­ly insti­tu­tions humans ever devised…. It is a world in which peo­ple sud­den­ly van­ish and are nev­er seen again, not through acci­dent or covert oper­a­tion or ter­ror­ism, but as a mat­ter of every­day legal pol­i­cy.”

Morrison’s fic­tion­al­iz­ing of the true sto­ry of Mar­garet Gar­ner, an enslaved moth­er who killed her child rather than let the infant become enslaved to such a future, “points to his­to­ry on the largest scale, to the glob­al and world-his­tor­i­cal,” Pela­gia Gouli­mari writes in a mono­graph on Mor­ri­son. Mor­ri­son uses “Garner’s 1856 infanticide—a cause célèbre—as point of access to the ‘Six­ty Mil­lion and more’: the vic­tims of the Mid­dle Pas­sage and of slav­ery.”

Per­haps only the nov­el, and espe­cial­ly the nov­els of Toni Mor­ri­son, can tell world-his­tor­i­cal sto­ries through the actions of a few char­ac­ters: Sethe, Den­ver, Baby Sug­gs, Paul D., and Beloved, the angry ghost of a mur­dered daugh­ter and a des­per­ate mother’s trau­ma and the trau­mat­ic psy­chic wounds of slav­ery, returned. Learn more about why you should read Beloved in the ani­mat­ed les­son above, direct­ed by Héloïse Dor­san Rachet, and dis­cov­er more at the TED-Ed lesson’s addi­tion­al resources page.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Hear Toni Mor­ri­son (RIP) Present Her Nobel Prize Accep­tance Speech on the Rad­i­cal Pow­er of Lan­guage (1993)

Toni Morrison’s 1,200 Vol­ume Per­son­al Library is Going on Sale: Get a Glimpse of the Books on Her Tribeca Con­do Shelves

Toni Mor­ri­son Decon­structs White Suprema­cy in Amer­i­ca

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

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