New Research Shows How Music Lessons During Childhood Benefit the Brain for a Lifetime

As a some­time musi­cian, it’s only nat­ur­al that I want my four-year-old daugh­ter to take an inter­est in music. Sure, it’s a fun bond­ing activ­i­ty, and sure, there may be a bit of a stage dad lurk­ing inside me at times. But I’m also con­vinced of the tan­gi­ble ben­e­fits play­ing a musi­cal instru­ment can have on one’s per­son­al devel­op­ment. New sci­ence, it seems, backs up this intu­ition. The Wash­ing­ton Post report­ed last year on a recent study from North­west­ern Uni­ver­si­ty which found that “Music train­ing not only helps chil­dren devel­op fine motor skills, but aids emo­tion­al and behav­ioral mat­u­ra­tion as well.”

This may not come as a sur­prise. And yet, the details of the study pro­vide insights our intu­itions about the pow­er of musi­cal edu­ca­tion may lack. For one thing, as you can see in the CNN report above, the ben­e­fits of learn­ing to play music as a child can last for decades, even if some­one hasn’t picked up an instru­ment since those ear­ly lessons. As Dr. Nina Kraus, direc­tor of Northwestern’s Audi­to­ry Neu­ro­science Lab­o­ra­to­ry, explains, good musi­cal tim­ing is strong­ly cor­re­lat­ed with read­ing skills and gen­er­al men­tal acu­ity. Accord­ing to a co-author of the study, James Hudzi­ak, pro­fes­sor of psy­chi­a­try at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ver­mont, ear­ly musi­cal train­ing was shown to have “accel­er­at­ed cor­ti­cal orga­ni­za­tion in atten­tion skill, anx­i­ety man­age­ment and emo­tion­al con­trol.” These brain changes can accom­pa­ny us well into old age.

Anoth­er, Cana­di­an study, pub­lished in Feb­ru­ary in the The Jour­nal of Neu­ro­science, found that child­hood music lessons boost the abil­i­ty of old­er adults to hear speech, a skill that begins to weak­en lat­er in life. The study found “robust” evi­dence that “start­ing for­mal lessons on a musi­cal instru­ment pri­or to age 14 and con­tin­u­ing intense train­ing for up to a decade appears to enhance key areas in the brain that sup­port speech recog­ni­tion.” Even music lessons tak­en lat­er life can help reha­bil­i­tate the brains of old­er adults. “The find­ings,” writes Sci­ence Dai­ly, “under­score the impor­tance of music instruc­tion in schools and in reha­bil­i­ta­tive pro­grams for old­er adults.”

Music teach­ers cer­tain­ly need this kind of evi­dence to bol­ster sup­port for ail­ing pro­grams in schools, and musi­cal­ly-inclined par­ents will cheer these find­ings as well. But before the stage par­ent in you begins enrolling your kid in every music les­son you can fit into the sched­ule, take heed. As Dr. Kraus dis­cov­ered in the North­west­ern study, forc­ing kids to show up and par­tic­i­pate under duress won’t exer­cise their brains. Real, active engage­ment is key. “We like to say that ‘mak­ing music mat­ters,’” says Kraus, “because it is only through the active gen­er­a­tion and manip­u­la­tion of sound that music can rewire the brain.” While musi­cal train­ing may be one par­tic­u­lar­ly enjoy­able way to strength­en cog­ni­tion, it isn’t the only way. But even if they don’t stick with it, the kids will­ing to put in the hours (and yes, the longer the bet­ter) will expe­ri­ence pos­i­tive change that lasts a life­time.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Play­ing an Instru­ment Is a Great Work­out For Your Brain: New Ani­ma­tion Explains Why

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

This is Your Brain on Jazz Impro­vi­sa­tion: The Neu­ro­science of Cre­ativ­i­ty

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

1,000,000 Minutes of Newsreel Footage by AP & British Movietone Released on YouTube

Both Faulkn­er and the physi­cists may be right: the pas­sage of time is an illu­sion. And yet, for as long as we’ve been keep­ing score, it’s seemed that his­to­ry real­ly exists, in increas­ing­ly dis­tant forms the fur­ther back we look. As Jonathan Crow wrote in a recent post on news ser­vice British Pathé’s release of 85,000 pieces of archival film on YouTube, see­ing doc­u­men­tary evi­dence of just the last cen­tu­ry “real­ly makes the past feel like a for­eign country—the weird hair­styles, the way a city street looked, the breath­tak­ing­ly casu­al sex­ism and racism.” (Of course there’s more than enough rea­son to think future gen­er­a­tions will say the same of us.) British Pathé’s archive seems exhaustive—until you see the lat­est dig­i­tized col­lec­tion on YouTube from AP (Asso­ci­at­ed Press) and British Movi­etone, which spans from 1895 to the present and brings us thou­sands more past tragedies, tri­umphs, and hair­styles

This release of “more than 1 mil­lion min­utes” of news, writes Vari­ety, includes archival footage of “major world events such as the 1906 San Fran­cis­co earth­quake, exclu­sive footage of the bomb­ing of Pearl Har­bor in 1941, the fall of the Berlin Wall and the 2001 ter­ror­ist attacks on the U.S.” And so much more, such as the news­reel above, which depicts Berlin in 1945, even­tu­al­ly get­ting around to doc­u­ment­ing the Pots­dam Con­fer­ence (at 3:55), where Churchill, Stal­in, and Tru­man cre­at­ed the 17th par­al­lel in Viet­nam, dic­tat­ed the terms of the Ger­man occu­pa­tion, and planned the com­ing Japan­ese sur­ren­der. No one at the time could have accu­rate­ly fore­seen the his­tor­i­cal rever­ber­a­tions of these actions.

Anoth­er strange, even uncan­ny piece of film shows us the Eng­lish foot­ball team giv­ing the Nazi salute in 1938 at the com­mence­ment of a game against Ger­many. “That’s shock­ing now,” says Alwyn Lind­say, the direc­tor of AP’s inter­na­tion­al archive, “but it wasn’t at the time.” Films like these have become of much more inter­est since The Sun pub­lished pho­tographs of the roy­al family—including a young Queen Eliz­a­beth II and her uncle Prince (lat­er King, then Duke) Edward VIII—giving Nazi salutes in 1933. Though it was not par­tic­u­lar­ly con­tro­ver­sial, and the chil­dren of course had lit­tle idea what it sig­ni­fied, it did turn out that Edward (seen here) was a would-be Nazi col­lab­o­ra­tor and remained an unapolo­getic sym­pa­thiz­er.

This huge video trove does­n’t just doc­u­ment the grim his­to­ry of the Sec­ond World War, of course. As you can see in the AP’s intro­duc­to­ry mon­tage at the top of the post, there is “a world of his­to­ry at your fingertips”—from tri­umphant video like Nel­son Man­de­la’s release from prison, above, to the below film of “Crazy 60s Hats in Glo­ri­ous Colour.” And more or less every oth­er major world event, dis­as­ter, dis­cov­ery, or wide­spread trend you might name from the last 120 or so years.

The archive splits into two YouTube chan­nels: AP offers both his­tor­i­cal and up-to-the-minute polit­i­cal, sports, celebri­ty, sci­ence, and “weird and wacky” videos (with “new con­tent every day”). The British Movi­etone chan­nel is sole­ly his­tor­i­cal, with much of its con­tent com­ing from the 1960s (like those hats, and this video of the Bea­t­les receiv­ing their MBE’s, and oth­er “Beat­le­ma­nia scenes.”)

Movi­etone’s one nod to the present takes the form of “The Archivist Presents,” in which a his­to­ri­an offers quirky con­text on some bit of archival footage, like that above of the Kinks get­ting their hair curled. The com­plete­ly uniron­ic lounge music and casu­al­ly sex­ist nar­ra­tion will make you both smile and wince, as do Ray Davies and com­pa­ny when they see their new hair. Most of the films in this mil­lion min­utes of news footage (and count­ing) tend to elic­it either or both of these two emo­tion­al reactions—joy (or amuse­ment) or mild to intense hor­ror, and watch­ing them makes the past they show us feel para­dox­i­cal­ly more strange and more imme­di­ate at once.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: British Pathé Puts Over 85,000 His­tor­i­cal Films on YouTube

New Archive Makes Avail­able 800,000 Pages Doc­u­ment­ing the His­to­ry of Film, Tele­vi­sion & Radio

700 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc. 

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

Animated Introductions to Three Sociologists: Durkheim, Weber & Adorno

Is soci­ol­o­gy an art or a sci­ence? Is it phi­los­o­phy? Social psy­chol­o­gy? Eco­nom­ics and polit­i­cal the­o­ry? Sur­vey­ing the great soci­ol­o­gists since the mid-19th cen­tu­ry, one would have to answer “yes” to all of these ques­tions. Soci­ol­o­gists like Karl Marx, Émile Durkheim, Max Weber, and Theodor Adorno con­duct­ed seri­ous schol­ar­ly and social-sci­en­tif­ic analy­ses, and wrote high­ly spec­u­la­tive the­o­ry. Though it may seem like we’re all soci­ol­o­gists now, mak­ing crit­i­cal judg­ments about large groups of peo­ple, the soci­ol­o­gists who cre­at­ed and car­ried on the dis­ci­pline gen­er­al­ly did so with sound evi­dence and well-rea­soned argu­ment. Unlike so much cur­rent knee-jerk com­men­tary, even when they’re wrong they’re still well worth read­ing.

Hav­ing already sur­veyed Marx in his series on Euro-Amer­i­can polit­i­cal philoso­phers, School of Life founder Alain de Bot­ton now tack­les the oth­er three illus­tri­ous names on the list above, start­ing with Durkheim at the top, then Weber above, and Adorno below. The first two fig­ures were con­tem­po­raries of Marx, the third a lat­er inter­preter. Like that beard­ed Ger­man scourge of cap­i­tal­ism, these three—in more mea­sured or pes­simistic ways—levied cri­tiques against the dom­i­nant eco­nom­ic sys­tem. Durkheim took on the prob­lem of sui­cide, Weber the anx­ious reli­gious under­pin­nings of cap­i­tal­ist ide­ol­o­gy, and Adorno the con­sumer cul­ture of instant grat­i­fi­ca­tion.

That’s so far, at least, as de Bot­ton’s very cur­so­ry intro­duc­tions get us. As with his oth­er series, this one more or less ropes the thinkers rep­re­sent­ed here into the School of Life’s pro­gram of pro­mot­ing a very par­tic­u­lar, mid­dle class view of hap­pi­ness. And, as with the oth­er series, the thinkers sur­veyed here all seem to more or less agree with de Bot­ton’s own views. Per­haps oth­ers who most cer­tain­ly could have been includ­ed, like W.E.B. Dubois, Jane Addams, or Han­nah Arendt, would offer some very dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives.

De Bot­ton again makes his points with pithy gen­er­al­iza­tions, num­bered lists, and quirky, cut-out ani­ma­tions, breezi­ly reduc­ing life­times of work to a few obser­va­tions and moral lessons. I doubt Adorno would approach these less-than-rig­or­ous meth­ods char­i­ta­bly, but those new to the field of soci­ol­o­gy or the work of its prac­ti­tion­ers will find here some tan­ta­liz­ing ideas that will hope­ful­ly inspire them to dig deep­er, and to per­haps improve their own soci­o­log­i­cal diag­noses.

Note: For those inter­est­ed, Yale has a free open course on Soci­ol­o­gy called “Foun­da­tions of Mod­ern Social The­o­ry,” which cov­ers most of the fig­ures list­ed above. You can always find it in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

6 Polit­i­cal The­o­rists Intro­duced in Ani­mat­ed “School of Life” Videos: Marx, Smith, Rawls & More

Niet­zsche, Wittgen­stein & Sartre Explained with Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tions by The School of Life

Theodor Adorno’s Rad­i­cal Cri­tique of Joan Baez and the Music of the Viet­nam War Protest Move­ment

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

Cambridge University to Create a Lego Professorship

cambridge lego

Image by Julochka/Flickr Com­mons

So it turns out that my two-year old son might be qual­i­fied for a pro­fes­sor­ship at an elite uni­ver­si­ty. No, he’s not some Doo­gie Hows­er-style savant. He just real­ly likes Legos. And Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty – the school of Isaac New­ton, Charles Dar­win and Stephen Hawk­ing – has announced that it’s get­ting ready to cre­ate a Lego pro­fes­sor­ship this fall.

The posi­tion, which is slat­ed to start in Octo­ber 2015, came about fol­low­ing a £4 mil­lion dona­tion from the Lego Foun­da­tion. The Den­mark-based orga­ni­za­tion, which owns 25% of the Lego toy com­pa­ny, states that their mis­sion is to “make chil­dren’s lives bet­ter — and com­mu­ni­ties stronger — by mak­ing sure the fun­da­men­tal val­ue of play is under­stood, embraced and act­ed upon.” The Foun­da­tion already has ties with MIT and Tsinghua Uni­ver­si­ty in Chi­na, among oth­ers.

Who ever lands the pro­fes­sor­ship will also head the Research Cen­tre on Play in Edu­ca­tion, Devel­op­ment and Learn­ing and will explore the con­nec­tion between learn­ing and play.

The qual­i­fi­ca­tions for the job seem remark­ably broad. As the uni­ver­si­ty says: “The can­di­da­ture should be open to all those whose work falls with­in the gen­er­al field of the title of the office.” They don’t, how­ev­er, specif­i­cal­ly men­tion that can­di­dates have to be pot­ty trained. I’m get­ting my son’s resume ready.

You can read Cam­bridge’s back­ground doc­u­men­ta­tion here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“Pro­fes­sor Risk” at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty Says “One of the Biggest Risks is Being Too Cau­tious”

J.K. Rowl­ing Tells Har­vard Grads Why Suc­cess Begins with Fail­ure

Find Cours­es from Cam­bridge in our Col­lec­tion of Free Cours­es Online

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

Doctoral Dissertation as a Graphic Novel: Read a Free Excerpt of Nick Sousanis’ Unflattening

Unflattering

My cir­cle of friends includes more than a few grad stu­dents, but few of them seem very hap­py, espe­cial­ly those who’ve already put every part of the process behind them except their dis­ser­ta­tion. As they strug­gle to wres­tle that daunt­ing beast to the ground, I — as a non-aca­d­e­m­ic — try to pro­vide what­ev­er per­spec­tive I can. To my mind, a dis­ser­ta­tion, just like any oth­er major task, demands that you break it down into small pieces and frame each piece in your mind just right, so I nat­u­ral­ly think Nick Sou­sa­nis made the right choice by writ­ing his dis­ser­ta­tion, pan­el by pan­el, frame by frame, as a graph­ic nov­el.

Boing Boing’s Cory Doc­torow recent­ly wrote about Unflat­ten­ing, Sou­sa­nis’ “graph­ic nov­el about the rela­tion­ship between words and pic­tures in lit­er­a­ture” that dou­bled as Sou­sa­nis’ dis­ser­ta­tion in edu­ca­tion at Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty. Doc­torow quotes Comics Grid’s Matt Finch, who describes the work as one that “defies con­ven­tion­al forms of schol­ar­ly dis­course to offer read­ers both a stun­ning work of graph­ic art and a seri­ous inquiry into the ways humans con­struct knowl­edge.” Unit­ing the per­spec­tives of “sci­ence, phi­los­o­phy, art, lit­er­a­ture, and mythol­o­gy, it uses the col­lage-like capac­i­ty of comics to show that per­cep­tion is always an active process of incor­po­rat­ing and reeval­u­at­ing dif­fer­ent van­tage points.”

A bold claim indeed, but one you can eval­u­ate for your­self by read­ing the fif­teen-page excerpt of Unflat­ten­ing now avail­able for free, or pur­chas­ing your own copy of this ground­break­ing dis­ser­ta­tion online. It will give you an idea, mak­ing ref­er­ence along the way to astron­o­my, ancient Alexan­dria, mod­ern Man­hat­tan, Gilles Deleuze, Sou­sa­nis’ dog, Ulysses, Bud­dhism, and the medi­um of the com­ic book — or the graph­ic nov­el, or sequen­tial art — itself. You can find out more about this impres­sive work of art, schol­ar­ship, or how­ev­er you pre­fer to regard it at the Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty Press site or Sou­sa­nis’ own.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Eco­nom­ics & Eco­nom­ic The­o­ry Explained with Comics, Start­ing with Adam Smith

Read John Nash’s Super Short PhD The­sis with 26 Pages & 2 Cita­tions: The Beau­ty of Invent­ing a Field

The Illus­trat­ed Guide to a Ph.D.

How to Dance Your Dis­ser­ta­tion: See the Win­ning Video in the 2014 “Dance Your PhD” Con­test

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

10 Million Years of Evolution Visualized in an Elegant, 5‑Foot Long Infographic from 1931

Click here to see the entire his­tom­ap in large, zoomable, for­mat.

The ear­ly decades of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry belonged to Cecil B. DeMille and his epic films both Bib­li­cal and clas­si­cal: The Ten Com­mand­ments, Cleopa­tra, Sam­son and Delilah. The grand scale of these pseu­do-his­to­ries required the most up-to-date cin­e­mat­ic inven­tion of the day, and the most impe­r­i­al vision, one lat­er decades looked upon rather cyn­i­cal­ly. But just as the epic has roared back with a vengeance—with tech­no­log­i­cal feats that make The Great­est Show on Earth look like com­mu­ni­ty theater—so anoth­er medi­um of ambi­tious scope once pop­u­lar between the wars has made a reap­pear­ance: the his­tor­i­cal info­graph­ic, or as it was called back then, the “histomap”—5‑foot long visu­al his­to­ries of a vari­ety of dis­ci­plines.

As with film, infor­ma­tion tech­nol­o­gy has advanced to such a degree to make this ear­ly means of con­dens­ing huge amounts of data per­haps seem quaint. But if we imag­ine a world pre-inter­net, when the prospect of visu­al­iz­ing a sub­ject as com­plex as, say, evo­lu­tion, would be daunt­ing indeed, we might just find the his­tom­ap as impres­sive a means of con­vey­ing infor­ma­tion as its ear­ly read­ers did. These huge graphs of big ideas, writes Rebec­ca Onion at Slate, fit “with a trend in non­fic­tion book pub­lish­ing of the 1920s and 1930s: the ‘out­line,’ in which large sub­jects (the his­to­ry of the world! every school of phi­los­o­phy! All of mod­ern physics!) were dis­tilled into a form com­pre­hen­si­ble to the most une­d­u­cat­ed lay­man.”

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured that 1931 “His­to­ry of the World!” his­tom­ap, an impres­sive con­dens­ing of 4000 years of human activ­i­ty. The evo­lu­tion graph­ic you see here, also from 1931 and “arranged” by John B. Sparks, is equal­ly impres­sive, and speaks to the times in ways that DeMille’s Bible movies did as well. Bear in mind that the Scopes Mon­key Tri­al had only con­clud­ed six years ear­li­er, and the country—as it is again today—was hot­ly divid­ed over the sub­ject rep­re­sent­ed here. Nonethe­less, Sparks and pub­lish­er Rand McNal­ly game­ly pre­sent­ed this “Sto­ry of the Emer­gence and Pro­gres­sion of Life” with con­fi­dent pre­ci­sion and with­out apol­o­gy.

I couldn’t begin to tell you how the sci­ence here has aged, though some of it, I’d sus­pect, not par­tic­u­lar­ly well. In any case, the form of this ele­gant data map, with its grace­ful lines of descent flow­ing down the page like mag­ma, com­ple­ments its con­tent. Rather than pre­sent­ing the the­o­ry of evo­lu­tion as a for­gone con­clu­sion or belief, Sparks’ graph­ic lays out all of the evi­dence, and fits it togeth­er neat­ly and com­pre­hen­sive­ly. Some mod­ern evo­lu­tion info­graph­ics sur­pass the visu­al appeal, but not the lev­el of sci­en­tif­ic detail shown here. Oth­ers reduce the sci­ence, and the design, to the lev­el of over­sim­pli­fied ide­ol­o­gy. And though we may have enough his­tor­i­cal dis­tance to make info­graph­ic­ss of hun­dreds of years of evo­lu­tion­ary thought, it may seem that the tech­nol­o­gy of the evo­lu­tion info­graph­ic may not have advanced as much as we might expect.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

4000 Years of His­to­ry Dis­played in a 5‑Foot-Long “His­tom­ap” (Ear­ly Info­graph­ic) From 1931

6,000 Years of His­to­ry Visu­al­ized in a 23-Foot-Long Time­line of World His­to­ry, Cre­at­ed in 1871

Watch 570 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion on Earth in 60 Sec­onds

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

High School Teacher Reads Allen Ginsberg’s Explicit Poem “Please Master” and Loses His Job

Image by Michiel hendryckx.

Image by Michiel Hendryckx.

Although the bound­aries of what should pass for free speech in high school Eng­lish class­rooms will be for­ev­er in debate, most every­one would agree some bound­aries must exist. But what of the speech of famous authors? Of tow­er­ing fig­ures of 20th cen­tu­ry poet­ry? Should their speech be sub­ject to review? What of an Eng­lish teacher who allows the most risqué Beat poem you’ve ever heard to be read aloud in class by the poet him­self, Allen Gins­berg, via an online video (per­haps this one)? Award-win­ning Eng­lish teacher David Olio, a beloved 19-year vet­er­an, did just that when a stu­dent asked to share Ginsberg’s ecsta­t­ic, and very explic­it, poem “Please Mas­ter” with the class.

After com­plaints from sev­er­al stu­dents, the school admin­is­tra­tion sus­pend­ed Olio, then forced him to resign. Whether or not this deci­sion was just is a debate that extends beyond the scope of this post. The vari­ables are many, as Slate’s sym­pa­thet­ic Mark Joseph Stern admits, includ­ing the fact that Olio did not exact­ly pre­pare his stu­dents for what was to come, nor give them the oppor­tu­ni­ty to opt out. The high school seniors—on the thresh­old of adult­hood and some already with one foot in college—may not have had their “emo­tion­al health” endan­gered, as Olio’s ter­mi­na­tion let­ter alleged, but it’s lit­tle won­der some of them found the mate­r­i­al shock­ing.

Ginsberg’s poem, which you can hear him read above, describes a “fan­ta­sized sex­u­al encounter between Gins­berg and Neal Cas­sady, the inspi­ra­tion for the Dean Mori­ar­ty char­ac­ter in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.” It is graph­ic, writes Stern, but “not obscene.” Instead—in its allu­sions to St. Teresa’s angel­ic vis­i­ta­tion in a “pro­fane descrip­tion of anal sex as a near­ly divine act”—Ginsberg’s poem is “dan­ger­ous because it jux­ta­pos­es ten­der­ness with masochism; dan­ger­ous because it rap­tur­ous­ly cel­e­brates a vision of same-sex inti­ma­cy we are only sup­posed to whis­per about.” Read the poem, lis­ten to Gins­berg read it, and judge for your­self.

Of course, this is hard­ly the first time Ginsberg’s work has caused con­tro­ver­sy. His Beat epic “Howl” (1955), with its sex­u­al­ly charged lines, irked the U.S. gov­ern­ment, who seized copies of the poem and put its pub­lish­er, poet and City Lights’ book­seller Lawrence Fer­linghet­ti, on tri­al for obscen­i­ty. Well over six­ty years lat­er, Fer­linghet­ti has writ­ten in defense of David Olio. We can safe­ly assume that Gins­berg, who died in 1997, also would approve. And while we have every right to be shocked by Ginsberg’s poem, or not, and find the deci­sion to fire Olio war­rant­ed, or not, I tend to agree with Stern when he writes “if every Eng­lish teacher were that enthu­si­as­tic about his sub­ject, Amer­i­ca would be a much more lit­er­ate, edu­cat­ed and inter­est­ing place.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The First Record­ing of Allen Gins­berg Read­ing “Howl” (1956)

Allen Gins­berg Reads a Poem He Wrote on LSD to William F. Buck­ley

Allen Gins­berg Talks About Com­ing Out to His Fam­i­ly & Fel­low Poets on 1978 Radio Show (NSFW)

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

Robert De Niro Tells Graduating NYU Arts Grads, “You Made It… And You’re F*cked”

I’ve attend­ed my share of grad­u­a­tions and hence my share of grad­u­a­tion speeches—from politi­cians more inter­est­ed in stump­ing than inspir­ing their audi­ence; to local TV per­son­al­i­ties assur­ing grad­u­ates they too could become local TV per­son­al­i­ties; to the real Patch Adams, who wasn’t near­ly as fun­ny as Robin Williams in his less-than-fun­ny turn as Patch Adams. My expe­ri­ence has taught me that grad­u­a­tion speech­es gen­er­al­ly suck.

But not for the most recent batch of grad­u­ates of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, who got both brac­ing hon­esty and career val­i­da­tion from a speak­er most like­ly to give it to you straight. With his trade­mark foul-mouth gruff­ness, De Niro told the grad­u­at­ing class what every aspir­ing artist needs to know: “You made it,” he said, “and you’re f*cked.” The world, De Niro told his audi­ence, is not open­ing its arms to embrace art school grads. For all our pop cul­tur­al cel­e­bra­tion of cre­ativ­i­ty, the so-called “cre­ative class”—as we’re told again and again—is most­ly in decline.

Of course it’s nev­er been an easy road for artists. De Niro knows this full well not only through his own ear­ly expe­ri­ences before super­star­dom but from his upbring­ing: both his moth­er and father were bohemi­an painters with tur­bu­lent, fas­ci­nat­ing lives. And so he also knows of what he speaks when he tells the NYU grads that they “didn’t have a choice.” Where prag­mat­ic account­ing grads may be “pas­sion­ate about account­ing,” De Niro says, “it’s more like­ly that they used rea­son and log­ic and com­mon sense to reach for a career that could give them the expec­ta­tion of suc­cess and sta­bil­i­ty.”

Not the arts grads, the famous actor says: “You dis­cov­ered a tal­ent, devel­oped an ambi­tion and rec­og­nized your pas­sion.” Their path, he sug­gests, is one of self-actu­al­iza­tion:

When it comes to the arts, pas­sion should always trump com­mon sense. You aren’t just fol­low­ing dreams, you’re reach­ing for your des­tiny. You’re a dancer, a singer, a chore­o­g­ra­ph­er, a musi­cian, a film­mak­er, a writer, a pho­tog­ra­ph­er, a direc­tor, a pro­duc­er, an actor, an artist. Yeah, you’re f***ed. The good news is that that’s not a bad place to start.

Maybe not. And maybe, for those dri­ven to sing, dance, paint, write, etc., it’s the only place to start. Grant­ed, NYU stu­dents are already a pret­ty select and priv­i­leged bunch, who cer­tain­ly have a leg up com­pared to a great many oth­er strug­gling artists. Nev­er­the­less, giv­en cur­rent eco­nom­ic real­i­ties and the U.S.’s depress­ing aver­sion to arts edu­ca­tion and fund­ing, these grads have a par­tic­u­lar­ly dif­fi­cult road ahead, De Niro says. And who bet­ter to deliv­er that hard truth with such con­vic­tion and good humor?

h/t @sheerly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Byrne’s Grad­u­a­tion Speech Offers Trou­bling and Encour­ag­ing Advice for Stu­dents in the Arts

Jim Car­rey Com­mence­ment Speech: It’s Bet­ter to Fail at What You Love Than Fail at What You Don’t

‘This Is Water’: Com­plete Audio of David Fos­ter Wallace’s Keny­on Grad­u­a­tion Speech (2005)

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

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