Alan Watts Reads “One of the Greatest Things Carl Jung Ever Wrote”

Carl Jung found­ed the field of ana­lyt­i­cal psy­chol­o­gy more than a cen­tu­ry ago, and many ref­er­ence his insights into the human mind and con­di­tion still today. Alan Watts cer­tain­ly did his bit to keep the Jun­gian flame alive, what­ev­er the out­ward dif­fer­ences between a Swiss psy­chi­a­trist and an Eng­lish inter­preter of Tao­ism, Hin­duism, and Bud­dhism, espe­cial­ly of the Zen vari­ety. Both men believed in cast­ing a wide spir­i­tu­al net, all the bet­ter to expose the com­mon core ele­ments of seem­ing­ly dis­parate ancient tra­di­tions. And in so doing they could hard­ly afford to ignore the reli­gious under­pin­nings of the Euro­pean civ­i­liza­tion, broad­ly speak­ing, from which they emerged. In fact, Watts became an ordained Epis­co­pal priest at the age of 30 — though, owing to the com­plex­i­ties of his beliefs as well as his per­son­al life, he resigned the min­istry by age 35.

But Watts’ invest­ment in cer­tain tenets of Chris­tian­i­ty endured, and he named as one of Jung’s great­est writ­ings a lec­ture deliv­ered to a Swiss cler­gy group. “Peo­ple for­get that even doc­tors have moral scru­ples and that cer­tain patient’s con­fes­sions are hard even for a doc­tor to swal­low,” begins the speech as Watts reads it aloud in the video above. “Yet the patient does not feel him­self accept­ed unless the very worst in him is accept­ed too. No one can bring this about by mere words. It comes only through reflec­tion and through the doctor’s atti­tude towards him­self and his own dark side.” To help anoth­er per­son, in oth­er words, one must first accept that per­son as he is; but to accept anoth­er per­son as he is first requires tak­ing one­self straight, less-than-admirable qual­i­ties and all.

Accord­ing to Watts, Jung him­self demon­strat­ed this rare self-aware­ness. “He knew and rec­og­nized what I some­times call the ele­ment of irre­ducible ras­cal­i­ty in him­self,” says Watts in a talk of his own pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture. “He knew it so strong­ly and so clear­ly, and in a way so lov­ing­ly, that he would not con­demn the same thing in oth­ers, and would there­fore not be led into those thoughts, feel­ings, and acts of vio­lence towards oth­ers which are always char­ac­ter­is­tic of the peo­ple who project the dev­il in them­selves upon the out­side, upon some­body else, upon the scape­goat.” As Jung puts it to his cler­i­cal audi­ence, “In the sphere of social or nation­al rela­tions, the state of suf­fer­ing may be civ­il war, and this state is to be cured by the Chris­t­ian virtue of for­give­ness and love of one’s ene­mies.”

What Chris­tian­i­ty holds as true of the out­er world goes just as well, Jung argues, for the inner one. “This is why mod­ern man has heard enough about guilt and sin. He is sore­ly beset by his own bad con­science and wants, rather, to know how he is to rec­on­cile him­self with his own nature, how he is to love the ene­my in his own heart and call the wolf his broth­er.” He “does not want to know in what way he can imi­tate Christ, but in what way he can live his own indi­vid­ual life, how­ev­er mea­gre and unin­ter­est­ing it may be.” Only by being allowed to fol­low this “ego­ism” to its con­clu­sion of “com­plete iso­la­tion” can he “get to know him­self and learn what an invalu­able trea­sure is the love of his fel­low beings”; it is only “in the state of com­plete aban­don­ment and lone­li­ness that we expe­ri­ence the help­ful pow­ers of our own natures.” With­out know­ing our own natures, we can hard­ly expect even the most time-test­ed belief sys­tems to put an end to the civ­il wars inside us.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Zen Mas­ter Alan Watts Explains What Made Carl Jung Such an Influ­en­tial Thinker

Carl Jung Explains His Ground­break­ing The­o­ries About Psy­chol­o­gy in a Rare Inter­view (1957)

Alan Watts On Why Our Minds And Tech­nol­o­gy Can’t Grasp Real­i­ty

Face to Face with Carl Jung: ‘Man Can­not Stand a Mean­ing­less Life’ (1959)

The Wis­dom of Alan Watts in Four Thought-Pro­vok­ing Ani­ma­tions

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 or on Face­book.

A New Database Will Document Every Slave House in the U.S.: Discover the “Saving Slave Houses Project”

In cen­tral North Car­oli­na, not far from where I live, sits the Franklin­ton Cen­ter at Bricks, a 224-acre edu­ca­tion­al cam­pus and con­fer­ence cen­ter built on the remains of a his­toric “Agri­cul­tur­al, Indus­tri­al, and Nor­mal School,” then junior col­lege, for the descen­dants of enslaved peo­ple. These schools were them­selves built on the land of a for­mer cot­ton plan­ta­tion, on for­mer ter­ri­to­ry of the Tus­caro­ra Nation. The cam­pus acts as a palimpsest of South­ern U.S. his­to­ry. Each suc­ces­sive gen­er­a­tion on the site after the Civ­il War has built memo­ri­als along­side mod­ern insti­tu­tions of learn­ing and activism. The mod­el is rare. As his­to­ri­an Dami­an Par­gas of Lei­den Uni­ver­si­ty tells Atlas Obscura’s Sab­ri­na Imbler, “slav­ery is large­ly invis­i­ble in the [cur­rent] South­ern land­scape, and there­fore easy to ignore or for­get.”

Even at the Franklin­ton Cen­ter, the rem­nants of the slave past con­sist only of a whip­ping post, the focus of a remem­brance area on the cam­pus, and an ante­bel­lum slave ceme­tery a short dis­tance away. All traces of slave quar­ters and hous­es have been wiped away. Where they remain in the U.S., writes Imbler, such build­ings often “bear no vis­i­ble trace of their past; many have been con­vert­ed into garages, offices, or sometimes—unnervingly—bed-and-breakfasts. In some cas­es the struc­tures have fall­en into ruin or van­ished entire­ly, leav­ing behind a depres­sion in the ground.” Since 2012, Jobie Hill, a preser­va­tion archi­tect, has tried to change that with her project Sav­ing Slave Hous­es.

Hill is deter­mined to build a first-of-its-kind data­base that hon­ors and pre­serves these spaces in more than mem­o­ry, and to unite the hous­es with the sto­ries of peo­ple who once inhab­it­ed them. As she sees it, such a repos­i­to­ry is long over­due. “There has nev­er been a nation­al sur­vey of slave hous­es, except for the one I’m try­ing to do,” Hill says.

Hous­es, says Hill, in her TEDx talk above, “can tell us a lot about the peo­ple that lived there…. Each slave house has a valu­able sto­ry to tell.” A slave house, Hill writes, on the project’s site, “was a place where enslaved peo­ple found strength and com­fort from one anoth­er; but at the same time, it was a place that imposed phys­i­cal lim­i­ta­tions and psy­cho­log­i­cal trau­ma.”

The project grew out of Hill’s master’s the­ses in preser­va­tion archi­tec­ture and through an intern­ship for the His­toric Amer­i­can Build­ings Sur­vey (HABS), “a fed­er­al pro­gram estab­lished in 1933 to employ archi­tects and drafts­men” dur­ing the Great Depres­sion, Imbler notes. She has been able to iden­ti­fy slave hous­es by their small size, loca­tion on a prop­er­ty, “and if the build­ing has a fire­place or chim­ney,” she says, not­ing that such build­ings were rarely includ­ed in sur­veys. She has also cross-ref­er­enced sur­veys with the “largest, best-known col­lec­tion of inter­views from for­mer­ly enslaved peo­ple: the 1936–1938 WPA Slave Nar­ra­tive Col­lec­tion.”

These inter­views “paint a grim pic­ture of the cru­el and cramped quar­ters enslaved peo­ple were forced to live in.” But slave hous­es are not only mark­ers of a painful past. “A slave house simul­ta­ne­ous­ly embod­ies suf­fer­ing, yet per­se­ver­ance and strong fam­i­ly bonds,” writes Hill. They are sym­bols of sur­vival against daunt­ing odds, and like the mag­no­lia tree that marks the remem­brance site at the Franklin­ton Cen­ter, they can “serve as a reminder that we too must do more than sur­vive. We must find a way to thrive.” Learn more about Hill’s Sav­ing Slave Hous­es project here.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

Hear the Voic­es of Amer­i­cans Born in Slav­ery: The Library of Con­gress Fea­tures 23 Audio Inter­views with For­mer­ly Enslaved Peo­ple (1932–75)

The Names of 1.8 Mil­lion Eman­ci­pat­ed Slaves Are Now Search­able in the World’s Largest Genealog­i­cal Data­base, Help­ing African Amer­i­cans Find Lost Ances­tors

The Atlantic Slave Trade Visu­al­ized in Two Min­utes: 10 Mil­lion Lives, 20,000 Voy­ages, Over 315 Years

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

How Norman Rockwell Used Photographs to Create His Famous Paintings: See Side-by-Side Comparisons


More than 40 years after Nor­man Rock­well’s death, the ques­tion of whether his paint­ings are real­is­tic or unre­al­is­tic remains open for debate. On one hand, crit­i­cal opin­ion has long dis­missed his Sat­ur­day Evening Post-adorn­ing visions of Amer­i­can life as sheer­est fan­ta­sy. “A lit­tle girl with a black eye, an elder­ly woman say­ing grace with her grand­son, a boy going to war: Rock­wellian scenes rep­re­sent a cer­tain sen­ti­men­tal Amer­i­ca — an ide­al Amer­i­ca, or at least Rock­well’s ide­al,” says a 2009 NPR sto­ry on his work.

On the oth­er hand, if Rock­well’s admir­ers give him a pass on this sen­ti­men­tal­i­ty, his detrac­tors often turn a blind eye to his obvi­ous tech­ni­cal mas­tery. Say what you will about his themes, the man might as well have been a cam­era.  Indeed, his process began with an actu­al cam­era. Accord­ing to that NPR piece, he “used pho­tos, tak­en by a rotat­ing cast of pho­tog­ra­phers, to make his illus­tra­tions — and all of his mod­els were neigh­bors and friends,” res­i­dents of his small town of Stock­bridge, Mass­a­chu­setts.

The cam­era­men includ­ed a Ger­man immi­grant named Clemens Kalis­ch­er: “An artist-pho­tog­ra­ph­er him­self, Kalis­ch­er was at odds with the trac­ing tech­niques and sac­cha­rine sub­ject mat­ter in Rock­well’s work. After all, Rock­well nev­er paint­ed free­hand, and almost all of his paint­ings were com­mis­sioned by mag­a­zines and adver­tis­ing com­pa­nies.”

But “although he may not have clicked the shut­ter, Rock­well direct­ed every facet of every com­po­si­tion,” as you can see by exam­in­ing his paint­ings and ref­er­ence pho­tos togeth­er, fea­tured as they’ve been on sites like Petapix­el.

At Google Arts & Cul­ture, you can scroll through a short exhi­bi­tion of Rock­well’s late work on race rela­tions in Amer­i­ca that reveals how he had not just one but many pho­tographs tak­en as source mate­r­i­al for each paint­ing, which he would then com­bine into a sin­gle image. This qua­si-cin­e­mat­ic “edit­ing” process brings to mind the “sto­ry­board­ing” of Edward Hop­per, who stands along­side Rock­well as one of the most Amer­i­can painters of the 20th cen­tu­ry.

But while Hop­per gave artis­tic form to the coun­try’s alien­ation, Rock­well — whom his­to­ry has­n’t remem­bered as a par­tic­u­lar­ly hap­py man — cre­at­ed an “Amer­i­can sanc­tu­ary oth­ers wished to share.” And though nei­ther Hop­per nor Rock­well’s Amer­i­ca may ever have exist­ed, they were craft­ed from the pieces of Amer­i­can life the artists found every­where around them.

via Petapix­el/Messy­Nessy

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nor­man Rock­well Illus­trates Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer & Huck­le­ber­ry Finn (1936–1940)

NASA Enlists Andy Warhol, Annie Lei­bovitz, Nor­man Rock­well & 350 Oth­er Artists to Visu­al­ly Doc­u­ment America’s Space Pro­gram

Nor­man Rockwell’s Type­writ­ten Recipe for His Favorite Oat­meal Cook­ies

Edward Hopper’s Cre­ative Process: The Draw­ing & Care­ful Prepa­ra­tion Behind Nighthawks & Oth­er Icon­ic Paint­ings

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

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 or on Face­book.

The Magic of the Beach Boys’ Harmonies: Hear Isolated Vocals from “Sloop John B.,” “God Only Knows,” “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” & Other Pet Sounds Classics

Jesus, that ear. He should donate it to the Smith­son­ian.
                        —Bob Dylan on Bri­an Wil­son

The Beach Boys tar­nished their rep­u­ta­tion when they reformed in lat­er years and tried to “reclaim their whole­some­ness,” Dan Caf­frey writes at Con­se­quence of Sound, “only to find that it had all but dis­ap­peared.” But in the days when they sound­ed like the most whole­some thing on earth, they also had the dis­tinct advan­tage of sound­ing seri­ous­ly weird: “Weird­er than Waits, weird­er than Zap­pa, and def­i­nite­ly weird­er than the Bea­t­les. The immac­u­late vocal har­mo­ny that made them famous was their weird­est weapon of all; a sun­ny fortress of eupho­ny that shone through the dark­est of times and strangest of lyrics in their lat­ter days.”

The phe­nom­e­non could emerge “only out of the fer­ment that char­ac­ter­izes today’s pop music scene,” said Leonard Bern­stein when he heard “Surf’s Up.” Despite the sur­face-lev­el corni­ness, there were “real­ly deep, pro­found emo­tions” in the band’s music, emo­tions “that came out of a lot of pain,” Lin­da Ron­stadt remarked.

The full depths of Pet Sounds may nev­er be plumbed, yet one can also put it on and imme­di­ate­ly feel the SoCal sun­shine hit them square­ly in the face. Only a genius like Bri­an Wil­son could turn surf pop into clas­si­cal com­po­si­tion, with­out com­pro­mis­ing the sim­ple emo­tions of pop or the pro­fun­di­ty of a clas­si­cal arrange­ment. (“I fig­ure no one is edu­cat­ed musi­cal­ly ’til they’ve heard ‘Pet Sounds,’ ” says Paul McCart­ney.)

And only the Beach Boys as a group could pull off those har­monies. The rest of the band may not have quite grasped what their quixot­ic leader was up to. (Mike Love once famous­ly com­plained, “Who’s gonna hear this shit? The ears of a dog?”) But they knew how to sing togeth­er like no one else before or since. (When David Cros­by heard “In My Room,” he says, “I thought, ‘I give up–I can’t do that–I’ll nev­er be able to do that.’”) They were so good, they could pull off gor­geous a‑capella pas­sages like those in “Sloop John B,” Pet Sounds’ lead sin­gle. Hear it at the top in a full iso­lat­ed vocal ver­sion.

A tra­di­tion­al folk song that orig­i­nat­ed in the Bahamas and was record­ed in the six­ties by every­one from John­ny Cash to Lon­nie Done­gan to the Kingston Trio, the arrang­ing of the song took only 24 hours, Al Jar­dine remem­bers, from the time he brought it to Wil­son as a pos­si­ble cov­er to the time Wil­son com­plet­ed his ver­sion of the track. The vocals were anoth­er mat­ter. Jar­dine assumed he would sing lead, but Wil­son had a process:

It was like inter­view­ing for a job. Pret­ty fun­ny. He didn’t like any of us. My vocal had a much more mel­low approach because I was bring­ing it from the folk idiom. For the radio, we need­ed a more rock approach. Bri­an and Mike end­ed up singing it.

Those demand­ing vocal record­ing ses­sions, Jar­dine wrote in the Pet Sounds lin­er notes, could last 12–15 hours a day. The end results are an espe­cial­ly impres­sive feat con­sid­er­ing that the back­ing vocals were all record­ed at once, with no over­dub­bing or any of the dig­i­tal stu­dio wiz­ardry used today to nudge stray voic­es into the right pitch and rhythm:

At the vocal ses­sions, there was so much good ten­sion. At any one time, you would have four out of five of us get our parts just fine, and there would be one who would screw up. But it would­n’t be the same per­son each time. Then the next take, he would get it right, but some­body else would get it wrong. Kind of like the chaos the­o­ry at work. The more peo­ple you have in a giv­en sit­u­a­tion, the more chance there is for error. Then, there would be the mag­ic moment when it all came togeth­er, and then you had your take.

Just below, hear Pet Sounds’ sad­dest song, “Car­o­line, No,” in a vocal take fea­tur­ing only Wil­son. He thought of it as “prob­a­bly the best [song] I’ve ever writ­ten… a pret­ty love song about how this guy and this girl lost it and there’s no way to get it back. I just felt sad, so I wrote a sad song.” It’s also a song, for all its melan­choly, born from the sense of inno­cent long­ing the band brought to all their music in their prime, con­veyed in har­monies that would nev­er shine as bright­ly for any oth­er band at any oth­er time. Hear more of the Beach Boys, a‑cappella, in the YouTube playlist here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

How the Beach Boys Cre­at­ed Their Pop Mas­ter­pieces: “Good Vibra­tions,” Pet Sounds, and More

The Beach Boys’ Bri­an Wil­son & Bea­t­les Pro­duc­er George Mar­tin Break Down “God Only Knows,” the “Great­est Song Ever Writ­ten”

The Mak­ing (and Remak­ing) of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, Arguably the Great­est Rock Album of All Time

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

A New Yorker Cartoonist Explains How to Draw Literary Cartoons

“I enjoy pok­ing fun at any­thing edu­cat­ed peo­ple do and civ­i­lized soci­ety per­pet­u­ates that is odd, frus­trat­ing, wacky, or hyp­o­crit­i­cal,” car­toon­ist Amy Kurzweil, above, recent­ly told the New York Pub­lic Library’s Mar­go Moore.

Unsur­pris­ing­ly, she’s been get­ting pub­lished in The New York­er a lot of late.

The process for get­ting car­toons accept­ed there is the stuff of leg­end, though report­ed­ly less gru­el­ing since Emma Allen, the magazine’s youngest and first-ever female car­toon edi­tor, took over. Allen has made a point of seek­ing out fresh voic­es, and work­ing with them to help mold their sub­mis­sions into some­thing in The New York­er vein, rather than “this end­less game of pre­sent­ing work and then hear­ing ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

Kurzweil has a fond­ness for lit­er­ary themes (and the same brand of pen­cils that John Stein­beck, Tru­man Capote, and Vladimir Nabokov pre­ferred—Black­wings—whether in her hand or, con­vers­ing with Allen on Zoom, above, in her ears.)

Get­ting the joke of a New York­er car­toon often depends on get­ting the ref­er­ence, and while both women seem tick­led at the first exam­ple, Kurzweil’s mash-up of Proust’s Remem­brance of Things Past and the pic­ture book If You Give a Mouse a Cook­ie, it may go over many read­ers’ heads.

The thing that holds it all togeth­er?

Madeleines, of course, though out­side France, not every Proust lover is able to iden­ti­fy an inked rep­re­sen­ta­tion of this evoca­tive cook­ie by shape.

Kurzweil states that she has nev­er actu­al­ly read the children’s book that sup­plies half the con­text.

(It’s okay. Like the idea that mem­o­ries can be trig­gered by cer­tain nos­tal­gic scents, its con­cept is pret­ty easy to grasp.)

Nor has she read philoso­pher Derek Parfit’s whop­ping 1,928-page On What Mat­ters. Her inspi­ra­tion for using it in a car­toon is her per­son­al con­nec­tion to the mas­sive, unread three-vol­ume set in her family’s library. Because both the size and the title are part of the joke, she directs the viewer’s eye to the unwieldy tome with a light water­col­or wash.

She also has a good tip for any­one draw­ing a library scene—go fig­u­ra­tive, rather than lit­er­al, vary­ing sizes and shapes until the eye is tricked into see­ing what is mere­ly sug­gest­ed.

A all-too-true lit­er­ary expe­ri­ence informs her sec­ond exam­ple at the 4:30 mark—that of a lit­tle known author giv­ing a read­ing in a book­store. Despite a pref­er­ence for draw­ing “fleshy things like peo­ple and ani­mals” she for­goes depict­ing the author or those in atten­dance, giv­ing the punch­line instead to the event posters in the store’s win­dow.

As she told the NYPL’s Moore:

A car­toon is always an oppor­tu­ni­ty to show­case a con­tem­po­rary phe­nom­e­non by exag­ger­at­ing it or plac­ing it in a dif­fer­ent con­text.

Over the last year, a huge num­ber of New York­er car­toons have con­cerned them­selves with the domes­tic dull­ness of the pan­dem­ic, but when Allen asked if she has a favorite New York­er car­toon cliché, Kurzweil went with “the Moby Dick trope, because whales are easy to draw, and I like a good metaphor for the unat­tain­able.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New York­er Car­toon Edi­tor Bob Mankoff Reveals the Secret of a Suc­cess­ful New York­er Car­toon

The Not York­er: A Col­lec­tion of Reject­ed & Late Cov­er Sub­mis­sions to The New York­er

Down­load a Com­plete, Cov­er-to-Cov­er Par­o­dy of The New York­er: 80 Pages of Fine Satire

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.

The Breathtaking Courage of Harriet Tubman: An Animated History Lesson Speaks to Her Place on the $20 Bill

I was a con­duc­tor on the Under­ground Rail­road, and I can say what many oth­ers can­not. I nev­er ran my train off the track, and I nev­er lost a pas­sen­ger.  —Har­ri­et Tub­man

Remem­ber how one of the Oba­ma administration’s final ini­tia­tives was to redesign the $20 bill, ban­ish­ing Andrew Jack­son, a slave­hold­er, to a minor role on the back of the bill, in favor of abo­li­tion­ist Har­ri­et Tub­man, who was born into slav­ery?

The announce­ment arrived on the heels of a con­tro­ver­sy, after then-Trea­sury Sec­re­tary Jacob J. Lew enraged Amer­i­can women by going back on a promise to install a woman on the face of a new­ly designed $10 bill.

The deci­sion to keep Alexan­der Hamil­ton, archi­tect of our finan­cial sys­tem and the country’s first Trea­sury Sec­re­tary, in place is rumored to owe rather a lot to his sta­tus as the sub­ject of a cer­tain hit musi­cal that had opened ear­li­er in the year.

The offi­cial design of the Tub­man bill was to have been unveiled in 2020, to coin­cide with the hun­dredth anniver­sary of the 19th Amend­ment, which guar­an­teed a wom­an’s right to vote. Had all gone accord­ing to plan, it would have been in wide cir­cu­la­tion lat­er this decade.

At the time Lew was untrou­bled by the pos­si­bil­i­ty that the incom­ing admin­is­tra­tion might kill off the pro­posed makeover:

I don’t think somebody’s going to prob­a­bly want to do that — to take the image of Har­ri­et Tub­man off of our mon­ey? To take the image of the suf­frag­ists off?

It seems, how­ev­er, that some­one did want to do that.

In 2016, pres­i­den­tial can­di­date Don­ald Trump told NBC that replac­ing Jack­son with Tub­man was “pure polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness,” sug­gest­ing instead that a place might be found for Tub­man on the $2 bill… which is no longer print­ed.

He also report­ed­ly remarked to for­mer White House advis­er Omarosa Mani­gault New­man, “You want me to put that face on the twen­ty-dol­lar bill?”

The Trea­sury Depart­ment website’s revi­sion in the wake of the 2016 elec­tion scrubbed all ref­er­ences to planned changes to the cur­ren­cy.

Lew’s replace­ment, Trea­sury Sec­re­tary Steven Mnuchin, final­ly announced that the new $20 bill wouldn’t be ready until 2028, and that the fin­ished design might not include Tub­man at all. He attrib­uted this to tech­ni­cal rea­sons relat­ing to secu­ri­ty fea­tures, though a Trea­sury Depart­ment employ­ee told The New York Times that the engrav­ing plate for it was com­plet­ed “as recent­ly as May 2018” and that the design “appeared to be far along in the process.”

Cer­tain­ly, there were big­ger sto­ries in 2020 than the absence of the promised Har­ri­et Tub­man $20 bill, but the obfus­ca­tion and delay were mad­den­ing giv­en every­thing Tub­man, a woman of action, was able to accom­plish well over a hun­dred years ago.

Most of us are famil­iar with her promi­nence on the Under­ground Rail­road, which led to the sobri­quet “Moses of her peo­ple,” but there are sev­er­al things in the above ani­mat­ed TED-Ed les­son by Janell Hob­son, Depart­ment Chair of Wom­en’s, Gen­der and Sex­u­al­i­ty Stud­ies at SUNY Albany, that may come as news to you.

Of par­tic­u­lar note, Tub­man was the first woman in US his­to­ry to plan and lead a mil­i­tary raid, result­ing in the lib­er­a­tion of near­ly 700 enslaved per­sons in South Car­oli­na.

Her sec­ond hus­band, Nel­son Davis, also born into slav­ery, had been a Union sol­dier, which enti­tled her to a pen­sion of $8 as a mil­i­tary wid­ow.

She fought hard for an increase on the basis of her own ser­vice to the Union Army, enlist­ing var­i­ous friends and sup­port­ers to lob­by on her behalf, includ­ing Lincoln’s Sec­re­tary of State, William Seward, who said, “I have known her long as a noble high spir­it, as true as sel­dom dwells in the human form.”

Final­ly, in 1899, her pen­sion was increased to $20 a month.

Pro­fes­sor Hob­son, whose les­son pre­dates Mnuchin’s announce­ment of the stall, called the denom­i­na­tion “a fit­ting twist of fate.”

As is the rub­ber stamp that artist Dano Wal cre­at­ed to help dis­gust­ed Amer­i­cans con­vert Jack­sons into Tub­mans with­out the help of the Trea­sury Depart­ment:

Who we choose to hon­or as a soci­ety affects the moral atti­tudes that are baked into us as we grow up. The impact that see­ing the face of Har­ri­et Tub­man star­ing back at you from a $20 bill should not be under­es­ti­mat­ed. This sort of rep­re­sen­ta­tion can sub­tly but deeply affect some­one’s con­cep­tion of them­selves and their place in soci­ety. The slight­ly sub­ver­sive nature of it being cur­ren­cy that’s been hand-stamped by anoth­er human makes a dis­cov­ery of one of these bills all the more joy­ous.

Good news looms on the hori­zon. Less than a week into the Biden admin­is­tra­tion, the Trea­sury Depart­ment con­firmed that the agency is “explor­ing ways to resume” putting Har­ri­et Tub­man on the bill, as well as ways to has­ten their release. She will be the first female and first Black Amer­i­can to be fea­tured on our fold­ing mon­ey.

TED-Ed has a list of addi­tion­al resources for those who’d like to delve deep­er into Tubman’s life and lega­cy, as well as a dis­cus­sion as to whether putting Tubman’s face on the $20 bill is a fit­ting hon­or.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Design­er Cre­ates a 3D-Print­ed Stamp That Replaces Andrew Jack­son with Har­ri­et Tub­man on the $20 Bill

What the Text­books Don’t Tell Us About The Atlantic Slave Trade: An Ani­mat­ed Video Fills In His­tor­i­cal Gaps

The Names of 1.8 Mil­lion Eman­ci­pat­ed Slaves Are Now Search­able in the World’s Largest Genealog­i­cal Data­base, Help­ing African Amer­i­cans Find Lost Ances­tors

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Watch a Korean Master Craftsman Make a Kimchi Pot by Hand, All According to Ancient Tradition

The South Kore­an cap­i­tal of Seoul, where I live, has in the 21st cen­tu­ry aston­ished vis­it­ing West­ern­ers with its tech­nol­o­gy, its infra­struc­ture, and its sheer urban vital­i­ty. It strikes many of those West­ern­ers (and I include myself among them) as con­sid­er­ably more devel­oped than any­where in the coun­tries they came from. But how­ev­er much Seoul may feel like the future, nowhere in Korea has the past whol­ly van­ished. Take the bul­bous earth­en­ware jars still vis­i­ble on more than a few of the coun­try’s ter­races and rooftops, meant to hold condi­ments like soy­bean and red pep­per paste as well as that world-famous sym­bol of not just Kore­an cui­sine but Kore­an cul­ture itself, the fer­ment­ed cab­bage known as kim­chi.

Com­mon­ly called hangari, or more tra­di­tion­al­ly ong­gi, these jars essen­tial to the fer­men­ta­tion of kim­chi and oth­er Kore­an foods are today pro­duced in large num­bers with indus­tri­al meth­ods. But there are also Kore­an pot­ters who’ve stuck to the old ways — and in a select few cas­es, the very old ways indeed. Take Jin-Gyu, the sub­ject of the video above, a short doc­u­men­tary from Eater’s “Hand­made” series.

“I’m the youngest of the intan­gi­ble cul­tur­al assets in Korea,” he says, refer­ring to the offi­cial list of Impor­tant Intan­gi­ble Cul­tur­al Prop­er­ties intro­duced to pro­tect long-stand­ing tra­di­tions in music, dance, and craft just as the coun­try began its unprece­dent­ed surge into moder­ni­ty. The mak­ing of ong­gi itself, a process Jin-Gyu demon­strates from start to fin­ish in the video, is Impor­tant Intan­gi­ble Cul­tur­al Prop­er­ty No. 96.

After pound­ing his clay into shape while describ­ing how its soil first flows down from the moun­tains, Jin-gyu places it onto his wheel and gives it the dis­tinc­tive shape rec­og­niz­able from all those ter­races and rooftops. This requires con­stant use of his hands, occa­sion­al use of his feet, and even the appli­ca­tion of tra­di­tion­al tools that he also made him­self. The con­trast with tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese pot­tery, its empha­sis on small-scale ele­gance and near-exis­ten­tial­ist atti­tude toward the final prod­uct, is instruc­tive: the Kore­an vari­ety, as Jin-gyu prac­tices it, has a dif­fer­ent ener­gy, more of an emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal rus­tic­i­ty. “This makes me so hap­py,” he says after remov­ing fin­ished jar from the kiln orig­i­nal­ly built by his ong­gi-pot­ter father. “After 300 years, it’ll return to the soil.” But there are plen­ty of hearty meals to be had in the mean­time, none of them with­out kim­chi.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Kore­an Pot­ter Found a “Beau­ti­ful Life” Through His Art: A Short, Life-Affirm­ing Doc­u­men­tary

The Art of the Japan­ese Teapot: Watch a Mas­ter Crafts­man at Work, from the Begin­ning Until the Star­tling End

How Soy Sauce Has Been Made in Japan for Over 220 Years: An Inside View

Mod­ern Artists Show How the Ancient Greeks & Romans Made Coins, Vas­es & Arti­sanal Glass

“Prim­i­tive Pot­ter” Trav­els into the Back­coun­try for 10 Days with Only a Knife & Buck­skin and Makes Anasazi Pot­tery

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 or on Face­book.

Little Kid Merrily Grooves to ZZ Top While Waiting for the Bus

A musi­cian in Van­cou­ver, British Colum­bia took to the streets and busked some ZZ Top, much to the delight of a young child wait­ing for the bus. From the moment he starts play­ing “La Grange,” the child bops up and down, then twirls in a cir­cle, los­ing her­self in the song. On YouTube he writes, “I don’t often see this, but when it hap­pens it’s always 99% kids that are doing it. Before they become jad­ed (age 8), they still have that spon­ta­neous spark, that reac­tion to music that we all used to have. Emo­tion is no.1 pri­or­i­ty and they express it with­out shame.”

If this bright­ens your day, even a lit­tle, con­sid­er giv­ing the busker a tip on Pay­pal or Patre­on. As he explains on YouTube, he’s had–like many of us–a rough year. He writes:

1) I’m glad every­one is enjoy­ing this video but I want to men­tion a few things.

Street play­ing is not all fun and games and danc­ing kids. Doing this for 7 years. I reg­u­lar­ly face not only ver­bal abuse, but phys­i­cal assault as I work a few blocks from down­town east­side Van­cou­ver. I’m sur­round­ed by addicts, drunks, and peo­ple who should be in men­tal homes.

2) I’m unem­ployed. All live music includ­ing busk­ing, is banned. I lost all work last year and received ZERO com­pen­sa­tion. I had a very bad year in 2020 and only recent­ly came out of a depres­sion.

3) I make ZERO from youtube no mat­ter how many views I get. I don’t run ads. And more impor­tant­ly, even if I did, most of my videos are instant­ly copy­right­ed and auto mon­e­tized by record labels because they are COVERS. If you see an ad, it’s the record label col­lect­ing. If you liked the per­for­mance, please think about sup­port­ing me on patreon/paypal tip/bandcamp.

4) I’m a musi­cian that writes his own music and has been doing it for 20 years. Check out my band­camp page to see what I can real­ly do with a gui­tar.

5) It’s a lot of unpaid work to post these videos all the time so please try to help me keep the chan­nel going. Many thanks to those that have sup­port­ed me! It means a lot!

6) I get asked this 100 times a day so here’s the answer: I play on the street and not in a band because all the clubs closed years ago. I used to lead many bands from 2006 to 2018. That’s all gone. Live music is dead, as well as banned. It’s also a lot more has­sle, and less mon­ey, to run a band than play by myself.

Any­one who has music work to offer can con­tact me at shatnershairpiece@yahoo.com

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ital­ian Street Musi­cian Plays Amaz­ing Cov­ers of Pink Floyd Songs, Right in Front of the Pan­theon in Rome

Crowd Breaks into Singing Bon Jovi in the Park: The Pow­er of Music in 46 Sec­onds

80s Pop Singer Jim­my Somerville Sur­pris­es Ger­man Street Musi­cian as the Busker Sings Somerville’s Hit

Lenny Kravitz Over­hears High School Kids Play­ing His Music and Sur­pris­es Them by Join­ing In

Street Artist Plays Leonard Cohen’s “Hal­lelu­jah” With Crys­tal Glass­es

Neil Young Busk­ing in Glas­gow, 1976: The Sto­ry Behind the Footage

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

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