John Trumbull’s Famous 1818 Painting Declaration of Independence Virtually Defaced to Show Which Founding Fathers Owned Slaves

Stat­ues of slave­hold­ers and their defend­ers are falling all over the U.S., and a lot of peo­ple are dis­traught. What’s next? Mount Rush­more? Well… maybe no one’s like­ly to blow it up, but some hon­esty about the “extreme­ly racist” his­to­ry of Mount Rush­more might make one think twice about using it as a lim­it case.

On the oth­er hand, a sand­blast­ing of the enor­mous Klan mon­u­ment in Stone Moun­tain, Geor­gia—cre­at­ed ear­li­er by Rush­more sculp­tor Gut­zon Borglum—seems long over­due.

We are learn­ing a lot about the his­to­ry of these mon­u­ments and the peo­ple they rep­re­sent, more than any of us Amer­i­cans learned in our ear­ly edu­ca­tion. But we still hear the usu­al defense that slave­hold­ers were only men of their time—many were good, pious, and gen­tle and knew no bet­ter (or they ago­nized over the ques­tion but, you know, every­one was doing it….) Peo­ple sub­ject­ed to the vio­lence and hor­ror of slav­ery most­ly tend­ed to dis­agree.

Before the Hait­ian Rev­o­lu­tion ter­ri­fied the slave­hold­ing South, many promi­nent slave­hold­ers, Jef­fer­son and Wash­ing­ton includ­ed, expressed intel­lec­tu­al and moral dis­gust with slav­ery. They could not con­sid­er abo­li­tion, how­ev­er (though Wash­ing­ton freed his slaves in his will). There was too much prof­it in the enter­prise. As Jef­fer­son him­self wrote, “It [would] nev­er do to destroy the goose.”

What we see when we look at the Rev­o­lu­tion­ary peri­od is the fatal irony of a repub­lic based on ideals of lib­er­ty, found­ed most­ly by men who kept mil­lions of peo­ple enslaved. The point is made vivid­ly above in a vir­tu­al deface­ment of Dec­la­ra­tion of Inde­pen­dence, John Trumbull’s famous 1818 paint­ing which hangs in the U.S. Capi­tol rotun­da. All of the founders’ faces blot­ted out by red dots were slave­own­ers. Only the few in yel­low in the cor­re­spond­ing image freed the the peo­ple they enslaved.

These images were not made in this cur­rent sum­mer of nation­al upris­ings but in August of 2019, “a bloody month that saw 53 peo­ple die in mass shoot­ings in the US,” notes Hyper­al­ler­gic. Their cre­ator, Arlen Parsa sought to make a dif­fer­ent point about the Sec­ond Amend­ment, but wrote force­ful­ly about the founders’ enslav­ing of oth­ers. “There were no gen­tle slave­hold­ers,” writes Parsa. “Count­less chil­dren were born into slav­ery and died after a rel­a­tive­ly short lifes­pan nev­er know­ing free­dom for even a minute.” Many of those chil­dren were fathered by their own­ers.

Some found­ing fathers paid lip ser­vice to the idea of slav­ery as a blight because it was obvi­ous that kid­nap­ping and enslav­ing peo­ple con­tra­dict­ed demo­c­ra­t­ic prin­ci­ples. Slav­ery hap­pened to be the pri­ma­ry metaphor used by Enlight­en­ment philoso­phers and their colo­nial read­ers to char­ac­ter­ize the tyran­ni­cal monar­chism they opposed. The philoso­pher John Locke wrote slav­ery into the con­sti­tu­tion of the Car­oli­na colony, and prof­it­ed from it through own­ing stock in the Roy­al African Com­pa­ny. Yet by his lat­er, huge­ly influ­en­tial Two Trea­tis­es, he had come to see hered­i­tary slav­ery as “so vile and mis­er­able an estate of man… that ‘tis hard­ly to be con­ceived” that any­one could uphold it.

There were, of course, slave­hold­ing founders who resist­ed such talk and felt no com­punc­tion about how they made their mon­ey. But lofty prin­ci­ples or no, the U.S. founders were often on the defen­sive against non-slave­hold­ing col­leagues, who scold­ed and attacked them, some­times with frank ref­er­ences to the rapes of enslaved women and girls. These crit­i­cisms were so com­mon that Thomas Paine could write the case for slav­ery had been “suf­fi­cient­ly dis­proved” when he pub­lished a 1775 tract denounc­ing it and call­ing for its imme­di­ate end:

The man­agers of [the slave trade] tes­ti­fy that many of these African nations inhab­it fer­tile coun­tries, are indus­tri­ous farm­ers, enjoy plen­ty and lived qui­et­ly, averse to war, before the Euro­peans debauched them with liquors… By such wicked and inhu­man ways, the Eng­lish are said to enslave towards 100,000 year­ly, of which 30,000 are sup­posed to die by bar­barous treat­ment in the first year…

So mon­strous is the mak­ing and keep­ing them slaves at all… and the many evils attend­ing the prac­tice, [such] as sell­ing hus­bands away from wives, chil­dren from par­ents and from each oth­er, in vio­la­tion of sacred and nat­ur­al ties; and open­ing the way for adul­ter­ies, inces­ts and many shock­ing con­se­quences, for all of which the guilty mas­ters must answer to the final judge…

The chief design of this paper is not to dis­prove [slav­ery], which many have suf­fi­cient­ly done, but to entreat Amer­i­cans to con­sid­er:

With that con­sis­ten­cy… they com­plain so loud­ly of attempts to enslave them, while they hold so many hun­dred thou­sands in slav­ery and annu­al­ly enslave many thou­sands more, with­out any pre­tence of author­i­ty or claim upon them.

Jef­fer­son squared his the­o­ry of lib­er­ty with his prac­tice of slav­ery by pick­ing up the fad of sci­en­tif­ic racism sweep­ing Europe at the time, in which philoso­phers who prof­it­ed, or whose patrons and nations prof­it­ed, from the slave trade began to coin­ci­den­tal­ly dis­cov­er evi­dence that enslav­ing Africans was only nat­ur­al. We should know by now what hap­pens when racism guides sci­ence.…

Maybe turn­ing those who will­ful­ly per­pet­u­at­ed the country’s most intractable, damn­ing crime against human­i­ty into civic saints no longer serves the U.S., if it ever did. Maybe ele­vat­ing the founders to the sta­tus of reli­gious fig­ures has pro­duced a wide­spread his­tor­i­cal igno­rance and a very spe­cif­ic kind of nation­al­ism that are no longer ten­able. Younger and future gen­er­a­tions will set­tle these ques­tions their own way, as they sort through the mess their elders have left them. As Locke also argued, in a para­phrase from Amer­i­can His­to­ry pro­fes­sor Hol­ly Brew­er, “peo­ple do not have to obey a gov­ern­ment that no longer pro­tects them, and the con­sent of an ances­tor does not bind the descen­dants: each gen­er­a­tion must con­sent for itself.”

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

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

The “Slave Bible” Removed Key Bib­li­cal Pas­sages In Order to Legit­imize Slav­ery & Dis­cour­age a Slave Rebel­lion (1807)

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

Miles Davis is Attacked, Beaten & Arrested by the NYPD Outside Birdland, Eight Days After the Release of Kind of Blue (1959)

It is hard, on the oth­er hand, to blame the police­man, blank, good-natured, thought­less, and insu­per­a­bly inno­cent, for being such a per­fect rep­re­sen­ta­tive of the peo­ple he serves. He, too, believes in good inten­tions and is astound­ed and offend­ed when they are not tak­en for the deed. 

—James Bald­win

James Baldwin’s 1960 essay “Fifth Avenue, Uptown” is rich with heartrend­ing ironies and razor-sharp refu­ta­tions of the usu­al apolo­gies for racist vio­lence in Amer­i­ca. It does not mat­ter, Bald­win argues, whether indi­vid­u­als are “good” or “bad” apples in a sys­tem designed to enforce seg­re­ga­tion, whether by force of law or brute force of will. “None of the police commissioner’s men,” writes Bald­win, “even with the best will in the world, have any way of under­stand­ing the lives led by the peo­ple they swag­ger about in twos and threes con­trol­ling.”

This bru­tal igno­rance extends wide­ly to rad­i­cals, dis­si­dents, peace­ful pro­test­ers, and hap­less bystanders dur­ing times of mass polit­i­cal unrest. (As Ed Kil­go­re points out at New York mag­a­zine, the term “police riot” orig­i­nat­ed in the 1968 Chica­go Demo­c­ra­t­ic Con­ven­tion.) The bru­tal­i­ty we’ve seen vis­it­ed on elder­ly white activists, jour­nal­ists, and even local politi­cians dur­ing recent protests (against bru­tal­i­ty) has been a dai­ly real­i­ty for mil­lions of black Amer­i­cans, even Amer­i­cans as famous as Miles Davis.

In 1959—eight days after the release of Kind of Blue and just after record­ing a broad­cast for armed forces radio—Davis was harassed and then vicious­ly attacked by the police out­side Bird­land in Mid­town Man­hat­tan. Then he was arrest­ed for resist­ing arrest and dragged to the police sta­tion for book­ing and fur­ther harass­ment. You can hear the sto­ry in a clip above from The Miles Davis Sto­ry. Davis him­self recount­ed the event in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy:

I had just fin­ished doing an Armed Forces Day broad­cast, you know, Voice of Amer­i­ca and all that bull­shit. I had just walked this pret­ty white girl named Judy out to get a cab. She got in the cab, and I’m stand­ing there in front of Bird­land wring­ing wet because it’s a hot, steam­ing, mug­gy night in August. 

This white police­man comes up to me and tells me to move on. I said, “Move on, for what? I’m work­ing down­stairs. That’s my name up there, Miles Davis,” and I point­ed to my name on the mar­quee all up in lights.

He said, “I don’t care where you work, I said move on! If you don’t move on I’m going to arrest you.”

I just looked at his face real straight and hard, and I didn’t move. Then he said, “You’re under arrest!” He reached for his hand­cuffs, but he was step­ping back…I kind of leaned in clos­er because I wasn’t going to give him no dis­tance so he could hit me on the head… A crowd had gath­ered all of a sud­den from out of nowhere, and this white detec­tive runs in and BAM! hits me on the head. I nev­er saw him com­ing. Blood was run­ning down the kha­ki suit I had on.

Davis, who grew up wealthy in St. Louis, came from vast­ly dif­fer­ent cir­cum­stances than Bald­win. He under­stood the vio­lence of the South, but not of North­ern cities. Nonethe­less, his expe­ri­ence with the police was iden­ti­cal, whether in Mis­souri or New York. “Now I would have expect­ed this kind of bull about resist­ing arrest and all back in East St Louis,” he wrote, “but not here in New York City, which is sup­posed to be the slick­est, hippest city in the world. But then, again, I was sur­round­ed by white folks and I have learned that when that hap­pens, if you’re black, there is no jus­tice. None.”

He speaks from bit­ter expe­ri­ence. Davis lat­er sued the NYPD, but his case was dis­missed, “despite a moun­tain of evi­dence in his favour,” writes Queen’s Uni­ver­si­ty researcher Mitchell Crouse, “includ­ing mul­ti­ple wit­ness state­ments, pho­to­graph­ic evi­dence, and the fact that at least one of the offi­cers was drunk.”

Bald­win and Davis both wrote of what Jamelle Bouie describes in The New York Times as the raw knowl­edge afford­ed those who live under con­stant sur­veil­lance and threats of assault, arrest, or mur­der by agents of the state: “African-Amer­i­can observers have nev­er had any illu­sions about who the police are meant to serve.” See the many pho­tographs of a bloody Miles tak­en dur­ing and after his arrest at the 1959 Project.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Miles Davis Icon­ic 1959 Album Kind of Blue Turns 60: Revis­it the Album That Changed Amer­i­can Music

Miles Davis’ Bitch­es Brew Turns 50: Cel­e­brate the Funk-Jazz-Psych-Rock Mas­ter­piece

Miles Davis Dish­es Dirt on His Fel­low Jazz Musi­cians: “The Trom­bone Play­er Should be Shot”; That Ornette is “F‑ing Up the Trum­pet”

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

Barcelona Opera Re-Opens with a Performance for 2,300 Potted Plants: Watch It Online

Writes The Guardian: “Barcelon­a’s El Liceu opera house reopened on Mon­day with a con­cert to an audi­ence of 2,292 pot­ted plants. The event took place a day after Spain’s state of emer­gency came to an end after more than three months. It was the work of Span­ish con­cep­tu­al artist Euge­nio Ampu­dia, who said the inspi­ra­tion came from a con­nec­tion he built with nature dur­ing the pan­dem­ic: ‘I watched what was going on with nature dur­ing all this time. I heard many more birds singing. And the plants in my gar­den and out­side grow­ing faster. And, with­out a doubt, I thought that maybe I could now relate in a much more inti­mate way with peo­ple and nature.’ ”

You can watch the per­for­mance below. It begins at the 8:30 mark. And do know that plants will be donat­ed to front­line health work­ers.

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

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

In 1968, a Teenager Convinced Thelonious Monk to Play a Gig at His High School to Promote Racial Unity; Now the Concert Recording Is Getting Released

In 1964, Thelo­nious Monk appeared on the cov­er of TIME. He had been cho­sen for an exten­sive pro­file, his biog­ra­ph­er Robin D.G. Kel­ley tells Ter­ry Gross, because the mag­a­zine thought Miles Davis or Ray Charles might be “too con­tro­ver­sial.” Monk, it was thought “had no com­plaints… he was­n’t so polit­i­cal.” This is not exact­ly so, Kel­ley writes in Thelo­nious Monk: The Life and Times of an Amer­i­can Orig­i­nal. The eccen­tric genius played ben­e­fit con­certs through­out the 60s. But he was also begin­ning to suf­fer from men­tal health issues that remained undi­ag­nosed to the end of his life. Still, he fol­lowed Civ­il Rights strug­gles close­ly. “Thelo­nious was moved by these events” and won­dered what more he could do.

That year Monk had an oppor­tu­ni­ty to make a direct con­tri­bu­tion by play­ing the most­ly white Palo Alto High School after the most “racial­ly tense” sum­mer of the decade, a moment in his­to­ry eeri­ly like the cur­rent time. The show was orga­nized by enter­pris­ing 16-year-old junior Dan­ny Sch­er, who would go on to become a major con­cert pro­mot­er.

Through his local con­nec­tions, Sch­er con­tact­ed Monk’s man­ag­er and arranged the book­ing. In order to fill the audi­to­ri­um, he pro­mot­ed the show in his wealthy Palo Alto enclave, in the local news­pa­pers, and in large­ly seg­re­gat­ed East Palo Alto. (“Against the urg­ing of the police depart­ment,” notes Jazz­iz.) Scher’s hard work turned the event into a rous­ing suc­cess, Kel­ley writes:

Nei­ther Thelo­nious nor six­teen-year-old Dan­ny Sch­er ful­ly grasped what this con­cert meant for race rela­tions in the area. For one beau­ti­ful after­noon, blacks and whites, P.A. and East P.A., buried the hatch­et and gath­ered togeth­er to hear “Blue Monk,” “Well, You Needn’t,” and “Don’t Blame Me.”

Monk played for over an hour to the inte­grat­ed audi­ence, then played an encore after “thun­der­ous applause.” The sto­ry of how the con­cert came about is full of plot twists, includ­ing the fact that Monk nev­er actu­al­ly saw the con­tract and only found out about the gig when Sch­er called him a few days before. But he “dug the kid’s chutz­pah and agreed to do it.” While Sch­er may have had the pres­ence of mind to fol­low up before the gig, he didn’t think to doc­u­ment the moment. That fell to a Black cus­to­di­an at the high school (whose name has been unfor­tu­nate­ly lost) who approached Sch­er, Nate Chi­nen tells NPR, and offered to tune the piano if he could record the gig.

The cus­to­di­an gave the tapes to Sch­er and the pro­mot­er held on to them for over 50 years. Now they’re final­ly being released as Palo Alto by Impulse! Records on July 31st. You can pre­view the new release with “Epistro­phy,” at the top. This record is no minor rar­i­ty, accord­ing to Monk’s son, T.S. Monk, who calls it “one of the best live record­ings I’ve ever heard by Thelo­nious.” Maybe he was ener­gized by the urgency of the moment, maybe it was the ener­gy of the audi­ence that drove his per­for­mance. What­ev­er inspired him that day, Monk showed, as many jazz musi­cians did at the time, how art can suc­ceed where pol­i­tics fail, and can—at least temporarily—unite com­mu­ni­ties who might have come to believe they have noth­ing left in com­mon.

via NPR

 Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Music Unites Us All: Her­bie Han­cock & Kamasi Wash­ing­ton in Con­ver­sa­tion

How Jazz Helped Fuel the 1960s Civ­il Rights Move­ment

Mar­tin Luther King Jr. Explains the Impor­tance of Jazz: Hear the Speech He Gave at the First Berlin Jazz Fes­ti­val (1964)

Thelo­nious Monk’s 25 Tips for Musi­cians (1960)

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

How One Simple Cut Reveals the Cinematic Genius of Yasujirō Ozu

Since his death 56 years ago, Yasu­jirō Ozu has only become more and more often ref­er­enced as a locus of great­ness in Japan­ese cin­e­ma. Almost with­out excep­tion, his exegetes explain the pow­er of his films first through their decep­tive sim­plic­i­ty. His movies may look and play like sim­ple mid­cen­tu­ry domes­tic dra­mas, each bear­ing a strong resem­blance to the one before, but with­in these rigid the­mat­ic and aes­thet­ic stric­tures, Ozu achieves tran­scen­dence. In fact, before becom­ing a film­mak­er in his own right Paul Schrad­er ele­vat­ed Ozu into a trin­i­ty along­side Robert Bres­son and Carl Theodor Drey­er in his 1972 book Tran­scen­den­tal Style in Film.

“Per­haps the finest image of sta­sis in Ozu’s films is the lengthy shot of the vase in a dark­ened room near the end of Late Spring,” Schrad­er writes, cit­ing the 1949 pic­ture usu­al­ly count­ed among Ozu’s best. “The father and daugh­ter are prepar­ing to spend their last night under the same roof; she will soon be mar­ried. They calm­ly talk about what a nice day they had, as if it were any oth­er day. The room is dark; the daugh­ter asks a ques­tion of the father, but gets no answer. There is a shot of the father asleep, a shot of the daugh­ter look­ing at him, a shot of the vase in the alcove and over it the sound of the father snor­ing. Then there is a shot of the daugh­ter half-smil­ing, then a lengthy, ten-sec­ond shot of the vase again, and a return to the daugh­ter now almost in tears, and a final return to the vase.”

Some view­ers see the vase as an inex­plic­a­ble inclu­sion, espe­cial­ly at such a charged moment. Schrad­er sees it as sta­sis itself, “a form which can accept deep, con­tra­dic­to­ry emo­tion and trans­form it into an expres­sion of some­thing uni­fied, per­ma­nent, tran­scen­dent.” In the video essay at the top of the post, Evan Puschak, bet­ter known as the Nerd­writer, exam­ines for him­self the place of the vase in Late Spring, in Ozu’s style more broad­ly, and in the body of crit­i­cal work sur­round­ing Ozu’s oeu­vre.

To Puschak’s mind, the var­i­ous read­ings of the vase by Schrad­er and oth­ers “speak to the unique pow­er that Ozu has, that he devel­oped over his long career. His style may appear sim­ple, but is in fact so fine-tuned, so care­ful­ly cal­i­brat­ed, that he has the pow­er to over­whelm the view­er, to launch a thou­sand inter­pre­ta­tions with a sin­gle cut.”

Late Spring fea­tures per­for­mances by Ozu reg­u­lars Chishū Ryū and Set­suko Hara, both of them inhab­it­ing the kind of char­ac­ters for which the direc­tor relied on them: Ryū the good-natured but firm father, Hara the by turns melan­cholic and opti­mistic but ulti­mate­ly duti­ful daugh­ter. These are arche­typ­al Ozu peo­ple, and the vase is an arche­typ­al Ozu object, as much so as the recur­ring red tea ket­tle Ozu enthu­si­asts delight in spot­ting. Those fans will under­stand the appear­ance of the vase as a kind of “pil­low shot,” the term used to describe those visu­al moments in all of Ozu’s pic­tures that have noth­ing to do with plot or char­ac­ter and every­thing to do with rhythm and reflec­tion. They depict ket­tles and vas­es, but also pago­das, clothes­line, street signs, smoke­stacks — things, not peo­ple, but things that, in their con­text, under­score Ozu’s pow­er­ful human­i­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Intro­duc­tion to Yasu­jiro Ozu, “the Most Japan­ese of All Film Direc­tors”

What Makes Yasu­jirō Ozu a Great Film­mak­er? New Video Essay Explains His Long-Admired Cin­e­mat­ic Style

Video Essay­ist Kog­o­na­da Makes His Own Acclaimed Fea­ture Film: Watch His Trib­utes to Its Inspi­ra­tions Like Ozu, Lin­klater & Mal­ick

How David Lynch Manip­u­lates You: A Close Read­ing of Mul­hol­land Dri­ve

How Ser­gio Leone Made Music an Actor in His Spaghet­ti West­erns, Cre­at­ing a Per­fect Har­mo­ny of Sound & Image

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

Rick Astley Sings an Unexpectedly Enchanting Cover of the Foo Fighters’ “Everlong”

Now, if this leaves you want­i­ng to hear Dave Grohl sing “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up,” all you have to do is click here. Enjoy…

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,000 Musi­cians Per­form Foo Fight­ers’ “Learn to Fly” in Uni­son in Italy; Dave Grohl Responds in Ital­ian

Stu­dent Rick­rolls Teacher By Sneak­ing Rick Ast­ley Lyrics into Quan­tum Physics Paper

Neil Finn Sings a Love­ly Ver­sion of David Bowie’s “Heroes,” Live from Home

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Construct Your Own Bayeux Tapestry with This Free Online App

A wise woman once quoth that one man’s adult col­or­ing book is another’s Medieval Tapes­try Edit.

If tak­ing crayons to emp­ty out­lines of man­dalas, flo­ral pat­terns, and for­est and ocean scenes has failed to calm your mind, the His­toric Tale Con­struc­tion Kit may cure what ails you.

Pro­gram­mers Leonard Allain-Lau­nay and Math­ieu Thoret­ton and soft­ware engi­neer Maria Cos­mi­na Ete­gan cre­at­ed the online kit as a trib­ute to a late, great, ear­ly 21st-cen­tu­ry appli­ca­tion designed by Acad­e­my of Media Arts Cologne stu­dents Björn Karnebo­gen and Gerd Jung­bluth.

They sep­a­rat­ed out var­i­ous ele­ments of the Bayeux Tapes­try, allow­ing you to freely mess around with 1000-year-old images of war­riors, com­mon­ers, beasts, and build­ings:

Craft thy own Bayeux Tapes­try

Slay mis­chie­vous beasts

Rule the king­dom

Rotate, resize, clone

Choose a back­ground, add some text in your choice of Bayeux or Augus­ta font and you’ll have done your bit to revive the fad­ing art of the Medieval Macro (or meme.)

The orig­i­nal tapes­try used some 224 feet of wool-embroi­dered linen to recount the Bat­tle of Hast­ings and the events lead­ing up to it.

You need not have such lofty aims.

Per­haps test the waters with a Father’s Day greet­ing, resiz­ing and rotat­ing until you feel ready to export as a PNG.

The inter­face is extreme­ly user friend­ly, kind of like a tech-savvy 11th-cen­tu­ry cousin of the online drag-and-drop graph­ic design tool, Can­va.

The His­toric Tale Con­struc­tion Kit’s most impres­sive bells and whis­tles reside in the paint­brush tool in the low­er left cor­ner, which allows you to lay down great swaths of folks, birds, or corpses in a sin­gle sweep.

Your palette will be lim­it­ed to the shades deployed by the Bayeux embroi­der­ers, who obtained their col­ors from plants—dyer’s woadmad­der, and dyer’s rock­et (or weld).

The text, of course, is entire­ly up to you.

It pleased us to go with the emi­nent­ly quotable David Bowie, and only after we groped our way into the three fledg­ling efforts you see above did we dis­cov­er that we’re not the only ones.

Pre­sent­ing Ear­ly Pre-Bowie Ref­er­ences to “Space Odd­i­ty”


Throw on some Bard­core and begin rework­ing the Bayeux Tapes­try with the His­toric Tale Con­struc­tion Kit here.

If you are inter­est­ed in some­thing a bit more tech­ni­cal, the design­ers have put the open­source code on GitHub for your cus­tomiz­ing plea­sure.

The Bayeux Tapes­try has also been recent­ly dig­i­tized. Explore it here: The Bayeux Tapes­try Gets Dig­i­tized: View the Medieval Tapes­try in High Res­o­lu­tion, Down to the Indi­vid­ual Thread

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to Medieval Cov­ers of “Creep,” “Pumped Up Kicks,” “Bad Romance” & More by Hilde­gard von Blin­gin’

160,000 Pages of Glo­ri­ous Medieval Man­u­scripts Dig­i­tized: Vis­it the Bib­lio­the­ca Philadel­phien­sis

Why Knights Fought Snails in Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­scripts

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

How Fast Can a Vaccine Be Made?: An Animated Introduction

From Ted-Ed comes a video that answers a time­ly ques­tion: How fast can a vac­cine be made?

They write: “When a new pathogen emerges, our bod­ies and health­care sys­tems are left vul­ner­a­ble. And when this pathogen caus­es the out­break of a pan­dem­ic, there’s an urgent need for a vac­cine to cre­ate wide­spread immu­ni­ty with min­i­mal loss of life. So how quick­ly can we devel­op vac­cines when we need them most? Dan Kwartler describes the three phas­es of vac­cine devel­op­ment.” Explorato­ry research, clin­i­cal test­ing, and man­u­fac­tur­ing.

When you’re done, you can watch their relat­ed video: When is a pan­dem­ic over?

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

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

Why This Font Is Everywhere: How Cooper Black Became Pop Culture’s Favorite Font

You know Times New Roman, you know Hel­veti­ca, you know Com­ic Sans — and though you may not real­ize it, you know Coop­er Black as well. Just think of the “VOTE FOR PEDRO” shirt worn in Napoleon Dyna­mite (and in real life for years there­after), or a few decades ear­li­er, the cov­er of Pet Sounds. In fact, the his­to­ry of Coop­er Black extends well before the Beach Boys’ mid-1960s mas­ter­piece; to see and hear the full sto­ry, watch the Vox video above. It begins, as nar­ra­tor Estelle Caswell explains, in Chica­go, at the turn of the 1920s when type design­er Oswald Bruce Coop­er cre­at­ed the series of fonts that bear his name. Near­ly a cen­tu­ry after the 1922 intro­duc­tion of the vari­ant Coop­er Black, we see it every­where, not just on album cov­ers and T‑shirts but store­fronts, movie posters, and can­dy wrap­pers all over the world.

 

The evo­lu­tion of print­ing, specif­i­cal­ly the evo­lu­tion from carved wood type to cast met­al, made Coop­er Black pos­si­ble. Its dis­tinc­tive look — and the curved edges that made it for­giv­ing to imper­fect print­ing process­es — made it a hit. And when film strips replaced met­al type, allow­ing the kind of close­ly-spaced print­ing that Coop­er thought best pre­sent­ed his font, the already-pop­u­lar Coop­er Black under­went a renais­sance.

“It thrived, as always, in adver­tis­ing,” says Caswell. “Its friend­ly curves fit the tongue-in-cheek aes­thet­ic of the 1960s and 70s, but it also showed up in mag­a­zines, movies, and hun­dreds of album cov­ers.” To typog­ra­phy enthu­si­asts, Pet Sounds seem­ing­ly remains Coop­er Black­’s finest hour: “Just look at the way the D works with the E and the Y, and ‘Boys’ fits so nice­ly over the O,” as art direc­tor Stephen Heller says in the video.

In the 1920s Coop­er Black not only show­cased cut­ting-edge print­ing tech­nol­o­gy, its aes­thet­ic looked exhil­a­rat­ing­ly mod­ern as well. Now, of course, it looks com­fort­ing­ly retro, evoca­tive of the era of hand­made graph­ic design slip­ping out of liv­ing mem­o­ry in our dig­i­tal 21st cen­tu­ry. But the 21st cen­tu­ry so far has also been a time of “retro­ma­nia”: with all pre­vi­ous media increas­ing­ly at our fin­ger­tips, we draw inspi­ra­tion (and even mate­r­i­al) for our art and design more direct­ly and instinc­tive­ly than ever from the trends of the past. No won­der we con­tin­ue to feel a res­o­nance in Coop­er Black, whose let­ters, as Caswell puts it, bring with them the weight of “a cen­tu­ry’s worth of changes in tech­nol­o­gy and pop cul­ture.” Nor is Coop­er Black­’s next cen­tu­ry, what­ev­er uses it sees the font put to, like­ly to dimin­ish its appeal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Typog­ra­phy Told in Five Ani­mat­ed Min­utes

Com­ic Sans Turns 25: Graph­ic Design­er Vin­cent Connare Explains Why He Cre­at­ed the Most Hat­ed Font in the World

Down­load Hel­l­veti­ca, a Font that Makes the Ele­gant Spac­ing of Hel­veti­ca Look as Ugly as Pos­si­ble

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

Enter the Cov­er Art Archive: A Mas­sive Col­lec­tion of 800,000 Album Cov­ers from the 1950s through 2018

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

Take Free Online Courses on African-American History from Yale and Stanford: From Emancipation, to the Civil Rights Movement, and Beyond

As every Amer­i­can knows, Feb­ru­ary is Black His­to­ry Month. And as every Amer­i­can also knows — if the events of 2020 haven’t warped their sense of time too bad­ly — is isn’t Feb­ru­ary right now. But thanks to online learn­ing tech­nol­o­gy, we all have the free­dom to study any sub­ject we want, as much as we want, when­ev­er we want, irre­spec­tive of the time of year. Sources of inter­net-based edu­ca­tion have pro­lif­er­at­ed in the 21st cen­tu­ry, but long-respect­ed insti­tu­tions of high­er learn­ing have also got in on the action. Yale Uni­ver­si­ty, for exam­ple, has pro­duced the online course African Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Eman­ci­pa­tion to the Present, whose 25 lec­tures by his­to­ry pro­fes­sor Jonathan Hol­loway you can watch on YouTube, or at Yale’s web site. The first lec­ture appears above.

Orig­i­nal­ly record­ed in the spring of 2010, Hol­loway’s course exam­ines “the African Amer­i­can expe­ri­ence in the Unit­ed States from 1863 to the present,” involv­ing such chap­ters of his­to­ry as “the end of the Civ­il War and the begin­ning of Recon­struc­tion” and “African Amer­i­cans’ urban­iza­tion expe­ri­ences.”

It also includes lec­tures on the “thought and lead­er­ship of Book­er T. Wash­ing­ton, Ida B. Wells-Bar­nett, W.E.B. Du Bois, Mar­cus Gar­vey, Mar­tin Luther King Jr., and Mal­colm X” — all writ­ers and thinkers Open Cul­ture read­ers will have encoun­tered before, but a course like African Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Eman­ci­pa­tion to the Present offers the oppor­tu­ni­ty to con­sid­er their lives and work in clear­er con­text and greater detail.

Black his­to­ry has deep­er roots in some parts of the Unit­ed States than oth­ers. But that does­n’t mean the uni­ver­si­ties of the west have noth­ing to offer in this depart­ment: take, for exam­ple, Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty’s African-Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Mod­ern Free­dom Strug­gle, taught by the his­to­ri­an (and edi­tor of MLK’s papers) Clay­borne Car­son. Avail­able to watch on YouTube and iTunes (or right above), its 18 lec­tures deliv­er an intro­duc­tion to “African-Amer­i­can his­to­ry, with par­tic­u­lar empha­sis on the polit­i­cal thought and protest move­ments of the peri­od after 1930, focus­ing on select­ed indi­vid­u­als who have shaped and been shaped by mod­ern African-Amer­i­can strug­gles for free­dom and jus­tice.” Tak­en togeth­er, these online cours­es offer you more than enough mate­r­i­al to hold your own Black His­to­ry Month right now.

Note: Clay Car­son­’s course can also be tak­en as a MOOC on edX. Enroll now in Amer­i­can Prophet: The Inner Life and Glob­al Vision of Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. And find the cours­es list­ed above in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Online Degrees & Mini Degrees: Explore Mas­ters, Mini Mas­ters, Bach­e­lors & Mini Bach­e­lors from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

Watch Cor­nel West’s Free Online Course on W.E.B. Du Bois, the Great 20th Cen­tu­ry Pub­lic Intel­lec­tu­al

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

Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris Shot by Shot: A 22-Minute Breakdown of the Director’s Filmmaking

“What is Bres­son’s genre? He does­n’t have one. Bres­son is Bres­son,” wrote mas­ter film­mak­er Andrei Tarkovsky in his sem­i­nal book Sculpt­ing in Time. “The very con­cept of genre is as cold as the tomb.”

Nonethe­less, Tarkovsky made two of the most praised, best-regard­ed sci­ence fic­tion films in cin­e­ma. Stalk­er is a meta­phys­i­cal rid­dle wrapped in the trap­pings of a sci-fi thriller. In the ver­dant area called the Zone, ringed off by miles of barbed wire and armed sol­diers, pil­grims come to behold an uncan­ny land­scape ruled by a pow­er­ful, oth­er­world­ly intel­li­gence. The film seemed to pre­fig­ure the Cher­nobyl dis­as­ter that hap­pened years lat­er and proved to be the unlike­ly inspi­ra­tion for a video game.

Adapt­ed from a nov­el by Stanis­law Lem, Solaris is about a space sta­tion that orbits a sen­tient plan­et that caus­es hal­lu­ci­na­tions in the cos­mo­nauts. The hyper-ratio­nal pro­tag­o­nist, Kris Kelvin, is thrown for a loop when he is con­front­ed by a dop­pel­ganger of his dead wife who killed her­self years ear­li­er. The log­i­cal side of him knows that this is a hal­lu­ci­na­tion but he falls in love any­way, only to lose her again. Kelvin is caught in a hell of repeat­ing the mis­takes of his past.

Solaris was seen as a Cold War-era response to Stan­ley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Both movies are mind-alter­ing deep-space epics that raise more ques­tions than they answer. Yet Tarkovsky hat­ed 2001’s osten­ta­tious use of cut­ting-edge spe­cial effects. “For some rea­son, in all the sci­ence-fic­tion films I’ve seen, the film­mak­ers force the view­er to exam­ine the details of the mate­r­i­al struc­ture of the future,” he told Russ­ian film jour­nal­ist Naum Abramov in 1970. “More than that, some­times, like Kubrick, they call their own films pre­mo­ni­tions. It’s unbe­liev­able! Let alone that 2001: A Space Odyssey is pho­ny on many points, even for spe­cial­ists. For a true work of art, the fake must be elim­i­nat­ed.”

Indeed, Tarkovsky seemed to delib­er­ate­ly half-ass the gener­ic ele­ments of film. He used leisure­ly shots of tun­nels and high­ways of 1971 Tokyo to depict the city of the future. He devot­ed only a cou­ple min­utes of the film’s near­ly three hour run­ning time to things like space­ships. And you have to love the fact that the space sta­tion in Solaris has such dis­tinct­ly unfu­tur­is­tic design ele­ments as a chan­de­lier and a wood-pan­eled library.

Tarkovsky, of course, isn’t inter­est­ed in sci­ence. He’s inter­est­ed in art and its way to evoke the divine. And his pri­ma­ry way of doing this is with long takes; epic shots that res­onate pro­found­ly even if the mean­ing of those images remains elu­sive. Solaris opens with a shot of water flow­ing in a brook and then, lat­er in the scene, there is a sud­den down­pour. The cam­era press­es into a shot of a teacup fill­ing with rain. It’s a beau­ti­ful, mem­o­rable, evoca­tive shot. Maybe the image means some­thing. Maybe its beau­ty is, in and of itself, its mean­ing. Either way, Tarkovsky forces you to sur­ren­der to his delib­er­ate cin­e­mat­ic rhythm and his pan­the­is­tic view of the world.

In a piece called Tarkovsky Shot by Shot, video essay­ist Anto­nios Papan­to­niou dis­sects a few scenes from Solaris, break­ing down each accord­ing to cam­era angle, shot type and dura­tion while point­ing out recur­ring visu­al motifs. “Dia­met­ri­cal­ly dif­fer­ent from Hollywood’s extrav­a­gant moviemak­ing Tarkovsky’s Solaris is in a cin­e­mat­ic uni­verse of its own,” writes Papan­to­niou in one of the video’s copi­ous inter­ti­tles. “Sym­bol­ic images and meta­phys­i­cal man­i­fes­ta­tions are cre­at­ed and expressed in a poet­ic way where every visu­al detail mat­ters.” Watch­ing Shot by Shot, you get a real sense of just how beau­ti­ful­ly his films unfold with those gor­geous­ly chore­o­graphed long takes. You can watch the full video above.

Note: This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site in June, 2015.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mas­ter­ful Polaroid Pic­tures Tak­en by Film­mak­er Andrei Tarkovsky

Tarkovsky’s Advice to Young Film­mak­ers: Sac­ri­fice Your­self for Cin­e­ma

Andrei Tarkovsky’s Mes­sage to Young Peo­ple: “Learn to Be Alone,” Enjoy Soli­tude

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.


  • Great Lectures

  • Sign up for Newsletter

  • About Us

    Open Culture scours the web for the best educational media. We find the free courses and audio books you need, the language lessons & educational videos you want, and plenty of enlightenment in between.


    Advertise With Us

  • Archives

  • Search

  • Quantcast
    Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.