Ralph Steadman’s Surrealist Illustrations of George Orwell’s Animal Farm (1995)

As a nov­el­ist, George Orwell did not traf­fic in sub­tleties, but then nei­ther did the authors of Medieval moral­i­ty plays. The alle­gor­i­cal Ani­mal Farm per­forms a sim­i­lar, if sec­u­lar, func­tion, giv­ing us unam­bigu­ous vil­lainy and clear didac­tic intent. Orwell not­ed in his essay “Why I Write” that he meant the book to “fuse polit­i­cal pur­pose and artis­tic pur­pose into one whole.“ Orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished with the sub­ti­tle A Fairy Sto­ry, the nov­el car­i­ca­tures Stal­in­ism and the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion, and Orwell left no mys­tery as to his intent when he com­ment­ed in the pref­ace to a 1947 Ukrain­ian edi­tion that he meant the book to “end on a loud note of dis­cord” meant to sig­ni­fy what he saw as the insta­bil­i­ty of the Tehran Con­fer­ence.

Lead­en state­ments like these aside, Orwell swore he “did not wish to com­ment on the work,” writ­ing, “if it does not speak for itself, it is a fail­ure.” The book does indeed speak, in two par­tic­u­lar ways: its vivid­ly grotesque char­ac­ter­i­za­tions of the humans and ani­mals on the farm and its indeli­ble col­lec­tion of pro­pa­gan­dis­tic slo­gans.

These are the fea­tures best cap­tured by gonzo illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man, famous for his col­lab­o­ra­tions with Hunter S. Thomp­son. Pub­lished in 1995—with the Fairy Sto­ry sub­ti­tle restored—the Stead­man-illus­trat­ed 50th anniver­sary edi­tion real­izes anoth­er pre­vi­ous vari­a­tion on the book’s title: Ani­mal Farm: A Con­tem­po­rary Satire.

These images draw out the exag­ger­at­ed absur­di­ties of the nov­el as only an artist with Steadman’s twist­ed, sur­re­al­ist sense of visu­al humor could. They are pro­found­ly effec­tive, though there’s no telling what Orwell would have thought of them. Steadman’s car­i­ca­tures uni­ver­sal­ize the book’s dra­ma, pro­vid­ing the kind of stock char­ac­ters we find in folk­lore, “fairy sto­ries,” and reli­gious alle­go­ry. But Orwell wrote that he wished us not to mis­take his express polit­i­cal intent: “It was of the utmost impor­tance to me that peo­ple in West­ern Europe should see the Sovi­et regime for what it real­ly was…. I have been con­vinced that the destruc­tion of the Sovi­et myth was essen­tial if we want­ed a revival of the Social­ist move­ment.”

Stead­man, to his great cred­it, felt no need to lit­er­al­ize Orwell’s stat­ed inten­tions in his illus­tra­tions, but rather took the book’s bizarre world on its own terms. You can read more quotes from Orwell’s earnest, intend­ed pref­ace for the book, restored in the Stead­man edi­tion, at Brain Pick­ings, where you’ll also find a good num­ber of the illus­tra­tions as well. Copies of the out-of-print book can be pur­chased on Ama­zon and Abe’s books.

Stead­man not only applied his skill as a car­i­ca­tur­ist to Orwell’s fic­tion­al farm denizens, we should note, but also to the author him­self. He made sev­er­al sketch­es of Orwell, such as that below of the writer with a cage of rats around his neck. You can see sev­er­al more of Steadman’s draw­ings of Orwell at The Guardian.

via Brain Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Break­ing Bad Illus­trat­ed by Gonzo Artist Ralph Stead­man

Pink Floyd Adapts George Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm into Their 1977 Con­cept Album, Ani­mals (a Cri­tique of Late Cap­i­tal­ism, Not Stal­in)

Gun Nut William S. Bur­roughs & Gonzo Illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man Make Polaroid Por­traits Togeth­er

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

New BBC Dramatization of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children Now Streaming Free for a Limited Time

FYI: The BBC is now stream­ing a drama­ti­za­tion of Salman Rushdie’s Book­er Prize-win­ning nov­el Mid­night’s Chil­dren. This free stream will only last for a lim­it­ed time (the next 29 days). So dive in.

Here’s how the BBC briefly describes the pro­duc­tion:

To mark the 70th anniver­sary of the Par­ti­tion of India, an ambi­tious new drama­ti­za­tion of Salman Rushdie’s daz­zling nov­el of love, his­to­ry and mag­ic. Saleem Sinai is born on the stroke of mid­night on 15th August 1947, at the exact moment that India and Pak­istan become sep­a­rate, inde­pen­dent nations. From that moment on, his fate is mys­te­ri­ous­ly hand­cuffed to the his­to­ry of his coun­try. The sto­ry starts with Saleem’s grand­fa­ther, Aadam, in Kash­mir in 1915. Drama­tised by Ayee­sha Menon. Star­ring Nikesh Patel, Abhin Galeya and Meera Syal.

You can find the sev­en indi­vid­ual episodes here. Each is about an hour long. Find more free lit­er­ary delights in our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

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!

An Animated Look at Vladimir Nabokov’s Passion for Butterfly Collecting: “Literature & Butterflies Are the Two Sweetest Passions Known to Man”

Lit­er­a­ture and but­ter­flies are the two sweet­est pas­sions known to man. — Vladimir Nabokov

A 1941 fam­i­ly road trip along Route 66 plant­ed the seeds for Vladimir Nabokov’s nov­el Loli­ta.

It also enriched the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry’s but­ter­fly col­lec­tion by some 300 North Amer­i­can spec­i­mens.

The author, an avid ama­teur lep­i­dopter­ist, indulged his hob­by along the way, deposit­ing but­ter­flies col­lect­ed on this and oth­er trips in glas­sine envelopes labeled with the name of the towns where the crea­tures encoun­tered his net. Upon his return, he decid­ed to donate most of his haul to the museum’s Lep­i­doptera col­lec­tion, where he was as an eager vol­un­teer.

Years lat­er, Suzanne Rab Green, a Tiger Moth spe­cial­ist and assis­tant cura­tor at the muse­um, uncov­ered Nabokov’s spec­i­mens packed in a vin­tage White Owl cig­ar box.

Rec­og­niz­ing that this col­lec­tion had lit­er­ary val­ue as well as sci­en­tif­ic, Green decid­ed to sort it by loca­tion rather than species, pre­serv­ing the care­ful­ly hand-let­tered envelopes along with the frag­ile wings and tho­rax­es.

Using Google Earth, she retraced Nabokov’s 3‑week jour­ney for the museum’s Shelf Life series, dig­i­tal­ly pin­ning his finds along­side vin­tage post­cards of Get­tys­burg, Yosemite Nation­al Park, and the Grande Tourist Lodge in Dal­las, Texas—all fer­tile col­lec­tion sites, at least in 1941.

But­ter­flies remained a life­long obses­sion for the author. He served for six years as cura­tor of Harvard’s Muse­um of Com­par­a­tive Zoology’s Lep­i­doptera wing and devel­oped an evo­lu­tion­ary the­o­ry relat­ed to his study of the Poly­omma­tus blues Green men­tions in the 360° video above. (Be aware, the 360° fea­ture will not work in Safari).

He also wooed his wife, Vera, by mak­ing charm­ing and keen­ly observed draw­ings of but­ter­flies for her.

An avowed ene­my of sym­bols and alle­go­ry, Nabokov pre­vent­ed but­ter­flies from occu­py­ing too sig­nif­i­cant a role in his fic­tion­al oeu­vre, though he gushed unabashed­ly in his mem­oir, Speak, Mem­o­ry:

Let me also evoke the hawk­moths, the jets of my boy­hood! Col­ors would die a long death on June evenings. The lilac shrubs in full bloom before which I stood, net in hand, dis­played clus­ters of a fluffy gray in the dark—the ghost of pur­ple. A moist young moon hung above the mist of a neigh­bor­ing mead­ow. In many a gar­den have I stood thus in lat­er years—in Athens, Antibes, Atlanta—but nev­er have I wait­ed with such a keen desire as before those dark­en­ing lilacs. And sud­den­ly it would come, the low buzz pass­ing from flower to flower, the vibra­tional halo around the stream­lined body of an olive and pink Hum­ming­bird moth poised in the air above the corol­la into which it had dipped its long tongue…. Through the gusty black­ness, one’s lantern would illu­mine the stick­i­ly glis­ten­ing fur­rows of the bark and two or three large moths upon it imbib­ing the sweets, their ner­vous wings half open but­ter­fly fash­ion, the low­er ones exhibit­ing their incred­i­ble crim­son silk from beneath the lichen-gray pri­maries. “Cato­cala adul­tera!” I would tri­umphant­ly shriek in the direc­tion of the light­ed win­dows of the house as I stum­bled home to show my cap­tures to my father.

Despite the author’s stat­ed dis­taste for overt sym­bol­ism, a few but­ter­flies did man­age to flut­ter onto the pages of his best known work, result­ing in at least one the­sis papers that makes a case for Loli­ta as butterfly—irresistible, beau­ti­ful, eas­i­ly ensnared….

Did I ever men­tion that her bare arm bore the 8 of vac­ci­na­tion? That I loved her hope­less­ly? That she was only four­teen? An inquis­i­tive but­ter­fly passed, dip­ping, between us.

- Loli­ta, Vladimir Nabokov, 1955

Track Nabokov’s cross-coun­try but­ter­fly col­lect­ing trip, cour­tesy of the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry, here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vladimir Nabokov’s Delight­ful But­ter­fly Draw­ings

Vladimir Nabokov Names the Great­est (and Most Over­rat­ed) Nov­els of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Take Vladimir Nabokov’s Quiz to See If You’re a Good Reader–The Same One He Gave to His Stu­dents

Vladimir Nabokov (Chan­nelled by Christo­pher Plum­mer) Teach­es Kaf­ka at Cor­nell

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

Introducing the New PEN America Digital Archive: 1,500 Hours of Audio & Video Featuring 2,200 Eminent Writers

Image via Pen.Org

The recent­ly launched PEN Amer­i­ca Dig­i­tal Archive is an Aladdin’s cave of lit­er­ary trea­sures. An incred­i­ble amount of cul­tur­al pro­gram­ming has grown up around the orga­ni­za­tion’s com­mit­ment to cham­pi­oning writ­ers’ civ­il liberties–over 1,500 hours worth of audio and visu­al files.

Delve into this free, search­able archive for pre­vi­ous­ly inac­ces­si­ble lec­tures, read­ings, and dis­cus­sions fea­tur­ing the lead­ing writ­ers, intel­lec­tu­als, and artists of the last 50 years. Many of these New York City-based events were planned in response to the oppres­sion and hard­ship suf­fered by fel­low writ­ers around the world.

Feel­ing over­whelmed by this all-you-can-eat buf­fet for the mind? The archivists have your back with fea­tured col­lec­tions–an assort­ment of rau­cous, polit­i­cal con­ver­sa­tions from the 1986 PEN World Con­gress and a thir­ty year ret­ro­spec­tive of Toni Mor­ri­son.

We are lucky that Nobel Prize-win­ner Mor­ri­son, a vig­or­ous cul­tur­al observ­er and crit­ic, still walks among us. Also, that the archive affords us a chance to spend qual­i­ty time with so many great lit­er­ary emi­nences who no longer do:

John Stein­beck reads excerpts of The Grapes of Wrath and his short sto­ries, “The Snake,” “John­ny Bear,”  and “We’re Hold­ing Our Own.”

Jerzy Kosin­s­ki dis­cuss­es teach­ing, and the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal ele­ments of his con­tro­ver­sial 1965 nov­el, The Paint­ed Bird.

Madeleine L’En­gle con­sid­ers myth, sci­ence, faith, and the con­nec­tion between art and fear.

Saul Bel­low tack­les how intel­lec­tu­als influ­ence and use tech­nol­o­gy, a par­tic­u­lar­ly inter­est­ing top­ic in light of the dystopi­an fiction’s cur­rent pop­u­lar­i­ty.

Nadine Gordimer relives the pub­li­ca­tion, ban­ning and swift unban­ning of her polit­i­cal his­tor­i­cal nov­el, Burg­er’s Daugh­ter.

Susan Son­tag uses a PEN Inter­na­tion­al Con­gress press con­fer­ence to draw atten­tion to ways in which the host coun­try, Korea, was falling short in regard to free­dom of expres­sion.

Gwen­dolyn Brooks reveals the back­sto­ry on her poems, includ­ing “The Lovers of the Poor,” and “We Real Cool.”

Begin your adven­tures in the PEN Amer­i­ca Dig­i­tal Archive here.

via Elec­tric Lit­er­a­ture

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Speech Bites: Nigel War­bur­ton, Host of Phi­los­o­phy Bites, Cre­ates a Spin Off Pod­cast Ded­i­cat­ed to Free­dom of Expres­sion

Great Writ­ers on Free Speech and the Envi­ron­ment

Penn Sound: Fan­tas­tic Audio Archive of Mod­ern & Con­tem­po­rary Poets

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

When J.M. Coetzee Secretly Programmed Computers to Write Poetry in the 1960s

Before J.M. Coet­zee became per­haps the most acclaimed nov­el­ist alive, he worked as a pro­gramer. That may not sound par­tic­u­lar­ly notable these days, but bear in mind that the Nobel lau­re­ate and two-time Book­er-win­ning author of Wait­ing for the Bar­bar­ians, Dis­grace, and Eliz­a­beth Costel­lo held that day job first at IBM in the ear­ly 1960s — back, in oth­er words, when nobody had a com­put­er on their desk. And back when IBM was IBM: that mighty Amer­i­can cor­po­ra­tion had brought the kind of com­put­ing pow­er it alone could com­mand to branch offices in cities around the world, includ­ing Lon­don, where Coet­zee land­ed after leav­ing his native South Africa after grad­u­at­ing from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cape Town.

The years Coet­zee spent “writ­ing machine code for com­put­ers,” he once wrote in a let­ter to Paul Auster, saw him “get­ting so deeply sucked into the process that I some­times felt I was descend­ing into a mad­ness in which the brain is tak­en over by mechan­i­cal log­ic.” This must have caused some dis­tress to a lit­er­ar­i­ly mind­ed young man who heard his true call­ing only from poet­ry.

“I was very heav­i­ly under the influ­ence, in my teens and ear­ly twen­ties, of, first, T.S. Eliot, but then, more sub­stan­tial­ly, Ezra Pound, and lat­er of Ger­man poet­ry, of Rilke in par­tic­u­lar,” he says to Peter Sacks in the inter­view above, remem­ber­ing the years before he put poet­ry aside as a craft in favor of the nov­el.

“Under the shad­ow­less glare of the neon light­ing, he feels his very soul to be under attack,“Coetzee writes, in the auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal nov­el Youth, of the pro­tag­o­nist’s time as a pro­gram­mer. “The build­ing, a fea­ture­less block of con­crete and glass, seems to give off a gas, odour­less, colour­less, that finds its way into his blood and numbs him. IBM, he can swear, is killing him, turn­ing him into a zom­bie.” Only in the evening can he “leave his desk, wan­der around, relax. The machine room down­stairs, dom­i­nat­ed by the huge mem­o­ry cab­i­nets of the 7090, is more often than not emp­ty; he can run pro­grams on the lit­tle 1401 com­put­er, even, sur­rep­ti­tious­ly, play games on it.”

He could also use these clunky, punch­card-oper­at­ed com­put­ers to write poet­ry. “In the mid 1960s Coet­zee was work­ing on one of the most advanced pro­gram­ming projects in Britain,” writes King’s Col­lege Lon­don researcher Rebec­ca Roach. “Dur­ing the day he helped to design the Atlas 2 super­com­put­er des­tined for the Unit­ed Kingdom’s Atom­ic Ener­gy Research Estab­lish­ment at Alder­mas­ton. At night he used this huge­ly pow­er­ful machine of the Cold War to write sim­ple ‘com­put­er poet­ry,’ that is, he wrote pro­grams for a com­put­er that used an algo­rithm to select words from a set vocab­u­lary and cre­ate repet­i­tive lines.”

These lines, as seen here in one page of the print-outs held at the Coet­zee archive at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Texas at Austin’s Har­ry Ran­som Cen­ter, include “INCHOATE SHARD IMAGINE THE OUBLIETTE,” “FRENETIC AMBIENCE DISHEARTEN THE ROSE,” “PASSIONATE PABULUM CARPET THE MIRROR,” and “FRENETIC TETANUS DEADEN THE DOCUMENT.” Though he nev­er pub­lished these results, writes Roach, he “edit­ed and includ­ed phras­es from them in poet­ry that he did pub­lish.” Is this a curi­ous chap­ter in the ear­ly life of a promi­nent man of let­ters, or was this realm of “flat metal­lic sur­faces” an ide­al forge for the sen­si­bil­i­ties of a writer now known, as John Lan­ches­ter so apt­ly put it, for his “unusu­al qual­i­ty of pas­sion­ate cold­ness” — a kind of bril­liant aus­ter­i­ty that hard­ly dead­ens any of his doc­u­ments.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

J.M. Coet­zee on the Plea­sures of Writ­ing: Total Engage­ment, Hard Thought & Pro­duc­tive­ness

Read and Hear Famous Writ­ers (and Arm­chair Sports­men) J.M. Coet­zee and Paul Auster’s Cor­re­spon­dence

New Jorge Luis Borges-Inspired Project Will Test Whether Robots Can Appre­ci­ate Poet­ry

Japan­ese Com­put­er Artist Makes “Dig­i­tal Mon­dri­ans” in 1964: When Giant Main­frame Com­put­ers Were First Used to Cre­ate Art

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

People Who Swear Are More Honest Than Those Who Don’t, Finds a New University Study

I’ve heard it said many times: “I don’t trust peo­ple who don’t swear.” It’s not an empir­i­cal state­ment. Just an intu­ition, that peo­ple who shy away from salty lan­guage might also shy away from cer­tain truths—may even be, per­haps, a lit­tle delu­sion­al. Few peo­ple char­ac­ter­ize tee­to­talers of swear­ing with more bite than Stephen Fry, who believes “the sort of twee per­son who thinks swear­ing is in any way a sign of a lack of edu­ca­tion or of a lack of ver­bal inter­est is just a fuck­ing lunatic.” George Car­lin would approve. A com­i­cal­ly exag­ger­at­ed view. No, swear­ing isn’t nec­es­sar­i­ly a sign of men­tal ill­ness. But it does cor­re­late strong­ly with truthtelling.

It seems all the sus­pi­cious salts out there may have hap­pened upon a mea­sur­able phe­nom­e­non. A study pub­lished last year with the cheeky title “Frankly, We Do Give a Damn: The Rela­tion­ship Between Pro­fan­i­ty and Hon­esty,” notes, “the con­sis­tent find­ings across the stud­ies sug­gest that the pos­i­tive rela­tion between pro­fan­i­ty and hon­esty is robust, and that rela­tion­ship found at the indi­vid­ual lev­el indeed trans­lates to the soci­ety lev­el.” It’s true, some research shows that peo­ple who swear may be like­ly to vio­late oth­er social norms, god bless ‘em, but they are also less like­ly to lie dur­ing police inter­ro­ga­tions.

After review­ing the lit­er­a­ture, the researchers, led by Maas­tricht Uni­ver­si­ty Psy­chol­o­gist Gilad Feld­man, describe the results of their own exper­i­ments. They asked 276 peo­ple to report on their swear­ing habits (or not) in detail. Those peo­ple then took a psy­cho­log­i­cal test that mea­sured their lev­els of hon­esty. Next, the team ana­lyzed 70,000 social media inter­ac­tions, and report­ed that “pro­fan­i­ty and hon­esty were found to be sig­nif­i­cant­ly and pos­i­tive­ly cor­re­lat­ed, indi­cat­ing that those who used more pro­fan­i­ty were more hon­est in their Face­book sta­tus updates.” They did not say whether high lev­els of hon­esty on Face­book is desir­able.

Final­ly, Feld­man and his col­leagues widened their scope to 48 U.S. states, and were able to cor­re­late social media data with mea­sures of gov­ern­ment account­abil­i­ty. States with high­er lev­els of swear­ing had a high­er integri­ty score accord­ing to a 2012 index pub­lished by the Cen­ter for Pub­lic Integri­ty. (Believe or not, New Jer­sey had some of the high­est scores.) All three of their stud­ies yield­ed sim­i­lar results. “At both the indi­vid­ual and soci­ety lev­el,” they con­clude, “we found that a high­er rate of pro­fan­i­ty use was asso­ci­at­ed with more hon­esty.” This does not mean, as Ephrat Livni writes at Quartz, that “peo­ple who curse like sailors” won’t “com­mit seri­ous eth­i­cal crimes—but they won’t pre­tend all’s well online.”

As to the ques­tion of whether swear­ing betrays a lack of edu­ca­tion and an impov­er­ished vocab­u­lary, we might turn to lin­guist, psy­chol­o­gist, and neu­ro­sci­en­tist Steven Pinker, who has made a learned defense of foul lan­guage, in dri­ly humor­ous talks, books, and essays. “When used judi­cious­ly,” he writes in a 2008 Har­vard Brain arti­cle, “swear­ing can be hilar­i­ous, poignant, and uncan­ni­ly descrip­tive.” His is an argu­ment that relies not only on data but on philo­soph­i­cal reflec­tion and lit­er­ary appre­ci­a­tion. “It’s a fact of life that peo­ple swear,” he says, and so, it’s a fact of art. Shake­speare invent­ed dozens of swears and was nev­er afraid to work blue. Per­haps that’s why we find his rep­re­sen­ta­tions of human­i­ty so peren­ni­al­ly hon­est.

You can read “Frankly, We Do Give a Damn: The Rela­tion­ship Between Pro­fan­i­ty and Hon­esty” here. In addi­tion to Gilad Feld­man, the research paper was also writ­ten by Hui­wen Lian (The Hong Kong Uni­ver­si­ty of Sci­ence and Tech­nol­o­gy,) Michal Kosin­s­ki (Stan­ford), and David Still­well (Cam­bridge).

via Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Fry, Lan­guage Enthu­si­ast, Defends The “Unnec­es­sary” Art Of Swear­ing

Steven Pinker Explains the Neu­ro­science of Swear­ing (NSFW)

George Car­lin Per­forms His “Sev­en Dirty Words” Rou­tine: His­toric and Com­plete­ly NSFW

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es 

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

2,000+ Cassettes from the Allen Ginsberg Audio Collection Now Streaming Online

Last month Col­in Mar­shall gave you the scoop on Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty’s dig­i­ti­za­tion of Allen Gins­berg’s “Howl,” a project that takes you inside the mak­ing of the icon­ic 1955 poem. As a quick fol­low up, it’s worth men­tion­ing this: Stan­ford has also just put online over 2,000 Gins­berg audio cas­sette record­ings, giv­ing you access to “a stag­ger­ing amount of pri­ma­ry source mate­r­i­al asso­ci­at­ed with the Beat Gen­er­a­tion” and its most acclaimed poet.

For a quick taste of what’s in the archive, Stan­ford Libraries points you to an after­noon break­fast table con­ver­sa­tion between Gins­berg and anoth­er leg­endary Beat fig­ure, William S. Bur­roughs. But you can rummage/search through the whole col­lec­tion and find your own favorite record­ings here.

via Stan­ford Libraries and Austin Kleon’s newslet­ter (which you should sub­scribe to here)

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:

Allen Ginsberg’s Howl Man­u­scripts Now Dig­i­tized & Put Online, Reveal­ing the Beat Poet’s Cre­ative Process

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

Allen Gins­berg Reads His Famous­ly Cen­sored Beat Poem, “Howl” (1959)

James Fran­co Reads a Dream­i­ly Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Allen Ginsberg’s Epic Poem ‘Howl’

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Russian History & Literature Come to Life in Wonderfully Colorized Portraits: See Photos of Tolstoy, Chekhov, the Romanovs & More

Col­orized episodes of I Love Lucy verge on sac­ri­lege, but Olga Shirn­i­na, a trans­la­tor and ama­teur col­orist of con­sid­er­able tal­ent, has unques­tion­ably noble goals when col­oriz­ing vin­tage por­traits, such as that of the Romanovs, above.

In her view, col­or has the pow­er to close the gap between the sub­jects of musty pub­lic domain pho­tos and their mod­ern view­ers. The most ful­fill­ing moment for this artist, aka Klimblim, comes when “sud­den­ly the per­son looks back at you as if he’s alive.”

A before and after com­par­i­son of her dig­i­tal makeover on Nadezh­da Kolesniko­va, one of many female Sovi­et snipers whose vin­tage like­ness­es she has col­orized bears this out. The col­or ver­sion could be a fash­ion spread in a cur­rent mag­a­zine, except there’s noth­ing arti­fi­cial-seem­ing about this 1943 pose.

“The world was nev­er mono­chrome even dur­ing the war,” Shirn­i­na reflect­ed in the Dai­ly Mail.

Mil­i­tary sub­jects pose a par­tic­u­lar chal­lenge:

When I col­orize uni­forms I have to search for info about the colours or ask experts. So I’m not free in choos­ing col­ors. When I col­orize a dress on a 1890s pho­to, I look at what col­ors were fash­ion­able at that time. When I have no lim­i­ta­tions I play with colours look­ing for the best com­bi­na­tion. It’s real­ly quite arbi­trary but a cou­ple of years ago I trans­lat­ed a book about colours and hope that some­thing from it is left in my head.

She also puts her­self on a short leash where famous sub­jects are con­cerned. Eye­wit­ness accounts of Vladimir Lenin’s eye col­or ensured that the revolutionary’s col­orized iris­es would remain true to life.

And while there may be a mar­ket for rep­re­sen­ta­tions of punked out Russ­ian lit­er­ary heroes, Shirn­i­na plays it straight there too, eschew­ing the dig­i­tal Man­ic Pan­ic where Chekhov, Tol­stoy, and Bul­gakov are con­cerned.

Her hand with Pho­to­shop CS6 may restore celebri­ty to those whose stars have fad­ed with time, like Vera Komis­sarzhevskaya, the orig­i­nal ingenue in Chekhov’s much per­formed play The Seag­ull and wrestler Karl Pospis­chil, who showed off his physique sans culotte in a pho­to from 1912.

Even the unsung pro­le­tari­at are giv­en a chance to shine from the fields and fac­to­ry floors.

Browse an eye pop­ping gallery of Olga Shirnina’s work on her web­site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Beau­ti­ful, Col­or Pho­tographs of Paris Tak­en 100 Years Ago—at the Begin­ning of World War I & the End of La Belle Époque

Col­orized Pho­tos Bring Walt Whit­man, Char­lie Chap­lin, Helen Keller & Mark Twain Back to Life

Venice in Beau­ti­ful Col­or Images 125 Years Ago: The Rial­to Bridge, St. Mark’s Basil­i­ca, Doge’s Palace & More

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

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