A Virtual Tour of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Lost Japanese Masterpiece, the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo

Tokyo once had a hotel by Frank Lloyd Wright. Such an archi­tec­tur­al asset, one might assume, would be pre­served at all costs, yet this one was demol­ished in 1967. But the fact that Wright’s Impe­r­i­al Hotel stood for only 45 years won’t sur­prise any­one famil­iar with Japan­ese build­ing cul­ture, nor will the fact that it was only one of a series of Impe­r­i­al Hotels that have occu­pied the same site. As evi­denced by the Ise Grand Shrine, which has been demol­ished and rebuilt every twen­ty years since the eighth cen­tu­ry, a struc­ture’s val­ue in Japan has noth­ing to do with its longevi­ty. Still, this expla­na­tion may not sat­is­fy Wright enthu­si­asts, the great major­i­ty of whom have only been able to see the mas­ter’s most famous Japan­ese build­ing in pho­tographs, dia­grams, and post­cards.

Just this year, the Frank Lloyd Trust has giv­en us a way to expe­ri­ence it as nobody could in its hey­day: a vir­tu­al tour video “shot” from the per­spec­tive of a fly­ing drone. (Watch above.) It comes as an entry in Frank Lloyd Wright: The Lost Works, which “brings Wright’s demol­ished and unre­al­ized struc­tures to life through immer­sive dig­i­tal ani­ma­tions recon­struct­ed from Wright’s orig­i­nal plans and draw­ings, along with archival pho­tographs.”

Here we have Wright’s East-meets-West mas­ter­piece recon­struct­ed just as it must have looked when it opened on Sep­tem­ber 1st, 1923 — the same day, coin­ci­den­tal­ly, as the Great Kan­tō earth­quake that dev­as­tat­ed Tokyo. The Impe­r­i­al Hotel took some dam­age, but came through intact.

A less­er earth­quake had already struck the pre­vi­ous year, but it left the hotel unharmed despite its still being under con­struc­tion. (The same can’t be said of the frag­ile remains of the orig­i­nal Impe­r­i­al Hotel, built in 1890 and gut­ted by fire in 1922, that Wright had been com­mis­sioned to replace.) But over sub­se­quent decades, time took its toll in oth­er ways: “the Wright-designed Impe­r­i­al would even­tu­al­ly be con­sid­ered by the post-war trav­el­er to be dark and musty,” writes Steve Sund­berg at Old Tokyo, “and its un-air-con­di­tioned rooms too small. The hotel’s foun­da­tion, too, had by then set­tled uneven­ly into the soft sub­soil; its long hall­ways and cor­ri­dors came to have a wavy, rub­bery appear­ance about them.”

Even when new, the Impe­r­i­al Hotel had its dis­com­forts: Sund­berg quotes a 1925 Far East­ern Review arti­cle call­ing it “a hun­dred years ahead of the age in its archi­tec­tur­al fea­tures and fifty years behind in many things which make for the com­fort of its patrons.” Wright “sac­ri­ficed every­thing to his art, rais­ing a mon­u­ment to his genius and bequeath­ing to the Japan­ese the dif­fi­cult task of mak­ing it a finan­cial suc­cess.” It was finan­cial exi­gen­cies, in part, that moti­vat­ed its demo­li­tion and replace­ment with a third, high-rise Impe­r­i­al Hotel in 1967 — whose own impend­ing demo­li­tion and replace­ment was announced just last year. France-based Japan­ese archi­tect Tsuyoshi Tane has pro­duced a design for the fourth Impe­r­i­al Hotel; what trib­ute, if any, it pays Wright’s lega­cy we’ll only find out when it opens in 2036.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Take a 360° Vir­tu­al Tour of Tal­iesin, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Per­son­al Home & Stu­dio

12 Famous Frank Lloyd Wright Hous­es Offer Vir­tu­al Tours: Hol­ly­hock House, Tal­iesin West, Falling­wa­ter & More

That Far Cor­ner: Frank Lloyd Wright in Los Ange­les – A Free Online Doc­u­men­tary

Build Wood­en Mod­els of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Great Build­ing: The Guggen­heim, Uni­ty Tem­ple, John­son Wax Head­quar­ters & More

Why Japan Has the Old­est Busi­ness­es in the World? Hōshi, a 1300-Year-Old Hotel, Offers Clues

Wabi-Sabi: A Short Film on the Beau­ty of Tra­di­tion­al Japan

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Hear a 19-Year-Old Prince Crushing It on Every Instrument in an Early Jam Session (1977)

It’s near­ly impos­si­ble to com­mu­ni­cate musi­cian­ship in words, though there are rare, suc­cess­ful lit­er­ary attempts by greats like James Bald­win, Jack Ker­ouac, and jazz crit­ic Ira Gitler, whose phrase “sheets of sound” so well cap­tured the expe­ri­ence of Coltrane’s impro­vi­sa­tion­al style in the late 50s. Maybe the free move­ments of jazz are eas­i­er to write about than oth­er forms.…

When it comes to recent­ly depart­ed funk/pop/rock/R&B great Prince, it feels like there’s enough writ­ten about his prodi­gious tal­ent that it begins to sound like over­praise. The most inter­est­ing trib­utes come from fel­low musi­cians. Yet even their com­ments seem exag­ger­at­ed.

Prince “played every­thing,” said Ste­vie Won­der soon after the Pur­ple One’s sud­den death – every style, every instru­ment – which seems like an impos­si­ble feat until you read the notes for his debut album and real­ize that, yes, he did play every­thing, before he hit 20… and lis­ten to the full range of his out­put to see that, yes, he “could play clas­si­cal music if he want­ed to,” as Won­der said. “He could play jazz if he want­ed to….”

Prince’s drum­mer Han­nah Wel­ton, who joined him in 2012, had sim­i­lar­ly overblow-sound­ing praise, say­ing in a recent drum instruc­tion video, “I don’t know that I ever heard an off note.” Every­one has an off day some­time, right? Too lit­tle sleep, a head cold, too much to drink… or what­ev­er…. No musi­cian could always be a hun­dred per­cent on, could they?

Lis­ten­ing to the funk/jazz jam ses­sions above record­ed in 1977, when Prince was only 19 and on the thresh­old of releas­ing his first stu­dio album, I’m inclined to cast off any remain­ing doubt that he was as untouch­ably dis­ci­plined and tal­ent­ed a musi­cian as they say all of the time, even in behind-the-scenes rehearsals and jam ses­sions when, as Wel­ton jokes, he seemed more inter­est­ed in play­ing ping pong. If any­one embod­ied genius…

But there is a prob­lem with that word (a word leg­endary music teacher Nadia Boulanger and one­time Quin­cy Jones men­tor dis­liked). Prince might agree. Musi­cal greats come out of great musi­cal com­mu­ni­ties. Prince may have been the most pro­fi­cient mul­ti-instru­men­tal­ist of his time, but he con­sis­tent­ly played with those who had no trou­ble keep­ing up with him, includ­ing ear­ly bass play­er André Cymone and long­time Rev­o­lu­tion drum­mer Bob­by Z.

Cymone and Z joined Prince in the Lor­ing Park rehearsal room of Owen Hus­ney, Prince’s first man­ag­er, to record these impromp­tu ses­sions. They are indeed “a must-lis­ten for any fan!,” as Live for Live Music writes, and any­one else. “These eight instru­men­tal tracks sound more like well-craft­ed com­po­si­tions rather than the impro­vised jams that they are.” Prince, of course, switch­es up instru­ments, play­ing keys, gui­tar and bass and drums at times.

That it’s hard to tell when he’s play­ing what speaks not only to his own prowess but to that of his fel­low musi­cians. As Bob­by Z says in an inter­view for the Gram­mys, the biggest mis­un­der­stand­ing about Prince is “that he wasn’t human. That he was this myth­i­cal, immor­tal char­ac­ter. In the ear­ly days, he was a band mem­ber. He was the leader, of course, but he had to be in a band.” He was vocal in inter­views about how play­ing with the hottest musi­cians in Min­neapo­lis as a teenag­er gave him his ear­ly train­ing.

Prince learned as much from oth­ers as they learned from him, says Z, soak­ing up every­thing he heard. “He was a fan. He loved being impressed by songs. He loved music. He loved oth­er people’s tal­ent.” But at the same time, he was still Prince, a rare tal­ent with­out real equal. The Lor­ing Park ses­sions may fea­ture “instru­men­tals only,” notes Okay­play­er, glanc­ing at Prince’s com­po­si­tion­al bril­liance and show­ing off none of his vocal chops. Nonethe­less, “it’s an inti­mate and ter­ri­bly funky lens into P’s pro­fi­cien­cy on damn-near every instru­ment,” before he’d even begun “his path to bonafide star­dom.”

via Live for Live Music

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch a New Director’s Cut of Prince’s Blis­ter­ing “While My Gui­tar Gen­tly Weeps” Gui­tar Solo (2004)

The Lit­tle Prince: Footage Gets Unearthed Of the Pop Star at Age 11

What’s It Like Drum­ming For Prince?: Drum­mer Han­nah Wel­ton Describes the Genius of His Musi­cian­ship

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

Japanese Restaurants Show You How to Make Traditional Dishes in Meditative Videos: Soba, Tempura, Udon & More

Despite hav­ing recent­ly begun to admit tour groups, Japan remains inac­ces­si­ble to most of the world’s trav­el­ers. Hav­ing closed its gates dur­ing the onset of the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic, the coun­try has shown lit­tle incli­na­tion to open them up again too quick­ly or wide­ly. The longer this remains the case, of course, the more intense every­one’s desire to vis­it Japan becomes. Though dif­fer­ent trav­el­ers have dif­fer­ent inter­ests to pur­sue in the Land of the Ris­ing sun — tem­ples and shrines, trains and cafés, ani­me and man­ga — all of them are sure­ly unit­ed by one appre­ci­a­tion in par­tic­u­lar: that of Japan­ese food.

Wher­ev­er in the world we hap­pen to live, most of us have a decent Japan­ese restau­rant or two in our vicin­i­ty. Alas, as any­one with expe­ri­ence in Japan has felt, the expe­ri­ence of eat­ing its cui­sine any­where else does­n’t quite mea­sure up; a ramen meal can taste good in a Cal­i­for­nia strip mall, not the same as it would taste in a Tokyo sub­way sta­tion.

At least the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry affords us one con­ve­nient means of enjoy­ing audio­vi­su­al evo­ca­tions of gen­uine Japan­ese eater­ies: Youtube videos. The chan­nel Japan­ese Noo­dles Udon Soba Kyoto Hyō­go, for instance, has cap­ti­vat­ed large audi­ences sim­ply by show­ing what goes on in the hum­ble kitchens of west­ern Japan’s Kyoto and Hyō­go pre­fec­tures.

Hyō­go con­tains the coastal city of Kobe as well as Hime­ji Cas­tle, which dates back to the four­teenth cen­tu­ry. The pre­fec­ture of Kyoto, and espe­cial­ly the one­time cap­i­tal of Japan with­in it, needs no intro­duc­tion, such is its world­wide renown as a site of cul­tur­al and his­tor­i­cal rich­ness. Right up until the pan­dem­ic, many were the for­eign­ers who jour­neyed to Kyoto in search of the “real Japan.” Whether such a thing tru­ly exists remains an open ques­tion, but if it does, I would locate it — in Kyoto, Hyō­go, or any oth­er region of the coun­try — in the mod­est restau­rants of its back alleys and shoten­gai mar­ket com­plex­es, the ones that have been serv­ing up bowls of noo­dles and plates of cur­ry for decade upon decade.

Ide­al­ly the décor nev­er changes at these estab­lish­ments, nor do the pro­pri­etors. The video at the top of the post vis­its a “good old din­er” in Kobe to show the skills of a “hard work­ing old lady” with the sta­tus of a “vet­er­an cook cho­sen by God.” In anoth­er such neigh­bor­hood restau­rant, locat­ed near the main train sta­tion in the city of Ama­gasa­ki, a “super mom” pre­pares her sig­na­ture udon noo­dles. But even she looks like a new­com­er com­pared to the lady who’s been mak­ing udon over in Kyoto for 58 years at a din­er in exis­tence for a cen­tu­ry. Soba, tonkat­su, oyakodon, tem­pu­ra, okonomiya­ki: whichev­er Japan­ese dish you’ve been crav­ing for the past cou­ple of years, you can watch a video on its prepa­ra­tion — and make your long-term trav­el plans accord­ing­ly.

Relat­ed con­tent:

How to Make Sushi: Free Video Lessons from a Mas­ter Sushi Chef

Cook­pad, the Largest Recipe Site in Japan, Launch­es New Site in Eng­lish

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

The Restau­rant of Mis­tak­en Orders: A Tokyo Restau­rant Where All the Servers Are Peo­ple Liv­ing with Demen­tia

Watch Tee­ny Tiny Japan­ese Meals Get Made in a Minia­ture Kitchen: The Joy of Cook­ing Mini Tem­pu­ra, Sashi­mi, Cur­ry, Okonomiya­ki & More

The Prop­er Way to Eat Ramen: A Med­i­ta­tion from the Clas­sic Japan­ese Com­e­dy Tam­popo (1985)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Brian Eno’s Ambient Album Music for Airports Performed by Musicians in an Airport

Ambi­ent Music must be able to accom­mo­date many lev­els of lis­ten­ing atten­tion with­out enforc­ing one in par­tic­u­lar; it must be as ignor­able as it is inter­est­ing.

In the orig­i­nal lin­er notes to Bri­an Eno’s found­ing doc­u­ment of Ambi­ent music — 1978’s Ambi­ent 1: Music for Air­ports — the artist explains that he named his genre after “an atmos­phere, or a sur­round­ing influ­ence: a tint. My inten­tion is to pro­duce orig­i­nal pieces osten­si­bly (but not exclu­sive­ly) for par­tic­u­lar times and sit­u­a­tions with a view to build­ing up a small but ver­sa­tile cat­a­logue of envi­ron­men­tal music suit­ed to a wide vari­ety of moods and atmos­pheres.”

In defin­ing “envi­ron­men­tal music,” Eno takes great pains to dis­tin­guish his new work from the mak­ers of Muzak. Rather than recre­at­ing the famil­iar with instru­men­tal schmaltz, and “strip­ping away all sense of doubt and uncer­tain­ty,” Ambi­ent should stim­u­late lis­ten­ers’ minds with­out dis­turb­ing or dis­tract­ing them, induc­ing “calm and a space to think.” Rolling Stone at the time coined the deri­sive, but not whol­ly inac­cu­rate, phrase “aes­thet­ic white noise.”

Reverb Machine painstak­ing­ly shows in a decon­struc­tion how Eno him­self intro­duced as much uncer­tain­ty into the com­po­si­tion­al process as pos­si­ble. Music for Air­ports is not, that is to say, a com­po­si­tion, but lay­ers of tape loops with snip­pets of record­ed music. These loops he set run­ning and “let them con­fig­ure in whichev­er way they want­ed to.” Act­ing as ini­tial selec­tor of sounds and engi­neer, Eno’s role as com­pos­er and play­er of the piece involved “hard­ly inter­fer­ing at all,” he’s said.

How could such a com­po­si­tion trans­late to a tra­di­tion­al per­for­mance set­ting, in which musi­cians, ele­vat­ed on a stage, play instru­ments for audi­ence mem­bers who face them, lis­ten­ing intent­ly? The sit­u­a­tion seems anti­thet­i­cal to Eno’s design. And yet, some­how, the musi­cians who make up the Bang on a Can All Stars ensem­ble have made it work beau­ti­ful­ly, per­form­ing Music for Air­ports’s first track, the non­de­script­ly named “1/1,” in an arrange­ment by the group’s Michael Gor­don, above, for an appre­cia­tive audi­ence at the San Diego Air­port Ter­mi­nal.

Bang on a Can is a group com­mit­ted, like Eno, to “mak­ing music new.” Since 1987, they have (unlike Eno) done so in a live per­for­mance-based way, hold­ing 12-hour marathon con­certs, for exam­ple. These per­for­mances have includ­ed their ren­di­tion of Music for Air­ports in full. The Vil­lage Voice described a 2007 per­for­mance in New York City for hun­dreds of atten­tive fans as “beau­ti­ful,” a word that often gets applied to Eno’s mas­ter­work of ran­dom­ness. Eno him­self described the results as “very, very nice,” and he’s maybe the last per­son to be sur­prised that a live per­for­mance of the first so-called Ambi­ent record works so well.

“The inter­est­ing thing is that it does­n’t sound at all mechan­i­cal as you would imag­ine,” he wrote of these ear­ly tape loop exper­i­ments. “It sounds like some guy is sit­ting there play­ing the piano with quite intense feel­ing. The spac­ing and dynam­ics of ‘his’ play­ing sound very well orga­nized.” See a quin­tet of “guys” just above — on cel­lo, bass, key­board, per­cus­sion, and gui­tar — recre­ate the mild­ly dis­joint­ed mood of stand­ing around in the lim­i­nal space of an air­port, for a crowd of peo­ple who, pre­sum­ably, came there for the express pur­pose of hear­ing back­ground music.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bri­an Eno Explains the Ori­gins of Ambi­ent Music

A Six-Hour Time-Stretched Ver­sion of Bri­an Eno’s Music For Air­ports: Med­i­tate, Relax, Study

The Ther­a­peu­tic Ben­e­fits of Ambi­ent Music: Sci­ence Shows How It Eas­es Chron­ic Anx­i­ety, Phys­i­cal Pain, and ICU-Relat­ed Trau­ma

Dis­cov­er the Ambi­ent Music of Hiroshi Yoshimu­ra, the Pio­neer­ing Japan­ese Com­pos­er

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

Never-Seen Vincent Van Gogh Self-Portrait Discovered Behind an Earlier Painting

The name of Vin­cent Van Gogh is one of the very best known in the his­to­ry of paint­ing, and indeed the his­to­ry of art. But that does­n’t mean the man him­self enjoyed any suc­cess in his short life­time. Though he was con­vinced that he was cre­at­ing “the art of the future,” and seem­ing­ly right to believe it, the buy­ers of nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry Euro­pean art did­n’t see it quite that way. Con­se­quent­ly impov­er­ished, Van Gogh had to resort to uncon­ven­tion­al strate­gies to main­tain his artis­tic pro­duc­tiv­i­ty. Instead of pro­fes­sion­al mod­els, for exam­ple, he hired peas­ants and peo­ple from the streets. And when he could­n’t paint them, he paint­ed him­self.

Van Gogh would also econ­o­mize by re-using his can­vas­es, a prac­tice not unknown in his day. “How­ev­er, instead of paint­ing over ear­li­er works,” writes Jor­dan Ogg at Nation­al Gal­leries Scot­land, “he would turn the can­vas around and work on the reverse.”

It seems he did this with the Nation­al Gal­leries Scot­land’s own Head of a Peas­ant Woman, whose back side turns out to bear a hith­er­to unknown self-por­trait hid­den by “lay­ers of glue and card­board” for well over a cen­tu­ry. X‑ray analy­sis has revealed “a beard­ed sit­ter in a brimmed hat with a neck­er­chief loose­ly tied at the throat. He fix­es the view­er with an intense stare, the right side of his face in shad­ow and his left ear clear­ly vis­i­ble.”

Even in its ghost­ly lack of detail, this face seems to be unmis­tak­able. If it belongs to who we think it does, it will become the 36th known Van Gogh self-por­trait. It would have been paint­ed before 1884’s Head of a Peas­ant Woman, “dur­ing a key moment in Van Gogh’s career, when he was exposed to the work of the French impres­sion­ists after mov­ing to Paris.” You can learn about the ongo­ing process of this lost self-por­trait’s redis­cov­ery in the video at the top of the post. Van Gogh expressed con­vic­tion that he was paint­ing for lat­er gen­er­a­tions, but sure­ly even he would be astound­ed at the excite­ment of twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry cura­tors about find­ing anoth­er of his self por­traits — and one he saw fit to give the card­board treat­ment at that.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Vin­cent Van Gogh’s Self Por­traits: Explore & Down­load a Col­lec­tion of 17 Paint­ings Free Online

Behold the New­ly Dis­cov­ered Sketch by Vin­cent van Gogh Sketch, “Study for Worn Out” (1882)

Watch as Van Gogh’s Famous Self-Por­trait Morphs Into a Pho­to­graph

Dis­cov­ered: The Only Known Pic­ture of Vin­cent Van Gogh as an Adult Artist? (Maybe, Maybe Not)

AI & X‑Rays Recov­er Lost Art­works Under­neath Paint­ings by Picas­so & Modigliani

A Restored Ver­meer Paint­ing Reveals a Por­trait of a Cupid Hid­den for Over 350 Years

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

30,000 Photographs of Black History & Culture Are Available Online in a New Getty Images Archive


Image of Charles S.L. Bak­er with his Super­heat­ing Demon­stra­tion

Black His­to­ry Month is Feb­ru­ary in the Unit­ed States and Cana­da, and Octo­ber in the Unit­ed King­dom and Europe. It may be July right now, but if you’re inter­est­ed in a sub­ject, there’s no rea­son not to get more deeply into it all year round. This is under­scored by the open­ing, this month, of Get­ty Images’ Black His­to­ry and Cul­ture Col­lec­tion. As Petapix­el’s Matt Grow­coot writes, it con­tains “30,000 rarely seen images of the Black dias­po­ra in the Unit­ed King­dom and the Unit­ed States that date back to the 19th cen­tu­ry,” draw­ing from the domains of “pol­i­tics, sport, music, cul­ture, mil­i­tary, and celebri­ty.”

In the Black His­to­ry and Cul­ture Col­lec­tion you’ll find pic­tures of cul­tur­al fig­ures like Duke Elling­ton and Jay‑Z, Jack John­son, Venus and Ser­e­na Williams, Sojourn­er Truth, and Bernar­dine Evaris­to. These names only hint at the range of the archive, which you can also browse by cat­e­go­ry tags: “civ­il rights,” “gov­er­nance,” and “sports,” to name a few exam­ples, but also “fam­i­lies,” “fash­ion,” and “hair.”

There are, of course, an enor­mous num­ber of pho­tos filed under “Amer­i­can Cul­ture,” which would itself be unimag­in­able with­out the con­tri­bu­tions of the peo­ple doc­u­ment­ed. But the same could be said of the oth­er side of the pond; hence the inclu­sion of a “Black British Cul­ture” label as well.

Cre­at­ing the Black His­to­ry and Cul­ture Col­lec­tion involved more than just tag­ging pho­tos. You can learn more about what went into it in the short video above, which includes the voic­es of col­lab­o­ra­tors like NYU Tisch School of the Arts’ Deb­o­rah Willis and the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­ni­a’s Tuku­fu Zuberi. The artist Rena­ta Cherlise speaks of the val­ue of the images of famous peo­ple, but also those of every­day life as it was lived in places and times like Harlem’s Savoy Ball­room in the nine­teen-for­ties. Whether or not your own her­itage is tied into this his­to­ry, you stand to learn a great deal from it. As Zuberi put sit, “Black cul­ture is the orig­i­nal human cul­ture, so there is no cul­ture that is alien to black cul­ture. The future of black cul­ture is the future of human cul­ture. Let’s go.”

via Petapix­el/Colossal

Relat­ed con­tent:

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

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 Black Film Archive: A New Site High­lights 200+ Note­wor­thy Black Films Made Between 1915–1979

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

Pho­tos of 19th-Cen­tu­ry Black Women Activists Dig­i­tized and Put Online by The Library of Con­gress

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Walter Benjamin Explains How Fascism Uses Mass Media to Turn Politics Into Spectacle (1935)

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In his 1935 essay, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechan­i­cal Repro­ducibil­i­ty,” influ­en­tial Ger­man-Jew­ish crit­ic Wal­ter Ben­jamin intro­duced the term “aura” to describe an authen­tic expe­ri­ence of art. Aura relates to the phys­i­cal prox­im­i­ty between objects and their view­ers. Its loss, Ben­jamin argued, was a dis­tinct­ly 20th-cen­tu­ry phe­nom­e­non caused by mass media’s impo­si­tion of dis­tance between object and view­er, though it appears to bring art clos­er through a sim­u­la­tion of inti­ma­cy.

The essay makes for potent read­ing today. Mass media — which for Ben­jamin meant radio, pho­tog­ra­phy, and film — turns us all into poten­tial actors, crit­ics, experts, he wrote, and takes art out of the realm of the sacred and into the realm of the spec­ta­cle. Yet it retains the pre­tense of rit­u­al. We make offer­ings to cults of per­son­al­i­ty, expand­ed in our time to include influ­encers and revered and reviled bil­lion­aires and polit­i­cal fig­ures who joust in the head­lines like pro­fes­sion­al wrestlers, led around by the chief of all heels. As Ben­jamin writes:

The film responds to the shriv­el­ing of the aura with an arti­fi­cial build-up of the “per­son­al­i­ty” out­side the stu­dio. The cult of the movie star,  fos­tered by the mon­ey of the film indus­try, pre­serves not the unique aura of the per­son but the “spell of the per­son­al­i­ty,” the pho­ny spell of a com­mod­i­ty.

Benjamin’s focus on the medi­um as not only expres­sive but con­sti­tu­tive of mean­ing has made his essay a sta­ple on com­mu­ni­ca­tions and media the­o­ry course syl­labi, next to the work of Mar­shall McLuhan. Many read­ings tend to leave aside the pol­i­tics of its epi­logue, like­ly since “his rem­e­dy,” writes Michael Jay — “the politi­ciza­tion of art by Com­mu­nism — was for­got­ten by all but his most mil­i­tant Marx­ist inter­preters,” and hard­ly seemed like much of a rem­e­dy dur­ing the Cold War, when Ben­jamin became more wide­ly avail­able in trans­la­tion.

Ben­jam­in’s own idio­syn­crat­ic pol­i­tics aside, his essay antic­i­pates a cri­sis of author­ship and author­i­ty cur­rent­ly sur­fac­ing in the inves­ti­ga­tion of a failed coup that includes Twit­ter replies as key evi­dence — and in the use of social media more gen­er­al­ly as a dom­i­nant form of polit­i­cal spec­ta­cle.

With the increas­ing exten­sion of the press, which kept plac­ing new polit­i­cal, reli­gious, sci­en­tif­ic, pro­fes­sion­al, and local organs before the read­ers, an increas­ing num­ber of read­ers became writers—at first, occa­sion­al ones. It began with the dai­ly press open­ing to its read­ers space for “let­ters to the edi­tor.” And today there is hard­ly a gain­ful­ly employed Euro­pean who could not, in prin­ci­ple, find an oppor­tu­ni­ty to pub­lish some­where or oth­er com­ments on his work, griev­ances, doc­u­men­tary reports, or that sort of thing. Thus, the dis­tinc­tion between author and pub­lic is about to lose its basic char­ac­ter.

Benjamin’s analy­sis of con­ven­tion­al film, espe­cial­ly, leads him to con­clude that its recep­tion required so lit­tle of view­ers that they eas­i­ly become dis­tract­ed. Everyone’s a crit­ic, but “at the movies this posi­tion requires no atten­tion. The pub­lic is an exam­in­er, but an absent-mind­ed one.” Pas­sive con­sump­tion and habit­u­al dis­trac­tion does not make for con­sid­ered, informed opin­ion or a healthy sense of pro­por­tion.

What Ben­jamin referred to (in trans­la­tion) as mechan­i­cal repro­ducibil­i­ty we might now just call The Inter­net (and the coter­ies of “things” it haunts pol­ter­geist-like). Lat­er the­o­rists influ­enced by Ben­jamin fore­saw our age of dig­i­tal repro­ducibil­i­ty doing away with the need for authen­tic objects, and real peo­ple, alto­geth­er. Ben­jamin him­self might char­ac­ter­ize a medi­um that can ful­ly detach from the phys­i­cal world and the mate­r­i­al con­di­tions of its users — a medi­um in which every­one gets a col­umn, pub­lic pho­to gallery, and video pro­duc­tion stu­dio — as ide­al­ly suit­ed to the aims of fas­cism.

Fas­cism attempts to orga­nize the new­ly cre­at­ed pro­le­tar­i­an mass­es with­out affect­ing the prop­er­ty struc­ture which the mass­es strive to elim­i­nate. Fas­cism sees its sal­va­tion in giv­ing these mass­es not their right, but instead a chance to express them­selves. The mass­es have a right to change prop­er­ty rela­tions; Fas­cism seeks to give them an expres­sion while pre­serv­ing prop­er­ty. The log­i­cal result of Fas­cism is the intro­duc­tion of aes­thet­ics into polit­i­cal life.

The log­i­cal result of turn­ing pol­i­tics into spec­ta­cle for the sake of pre­serv­ing inequal­i­ty, writes Ben­jamin, is the roman­ti­ciza­tion of war and slaugh­ter, glo­ri­fied plain­ly in the Ital­ian Futur­ist man­i­festo of Fil­ip­po Marinet­ti and the lit­er­ary work of Nazi intel­lec­tu­als like Ernst Junger. Ben­jamin ends the essay with a dis­cus­sion of how fas­cism aes­theti­cizes pol­i­tics to one end: the anni­hi­la­tion of aura by more per­ma­nent means.

Under the rise of fas­cism in Europe, Ben­jamin saw that human “self-alien­ation has reached such a degree that it can expe­ri­ence its own destruc­tion as an aes­thet­ic plea­sure of the first order. This is the sit­u­a­tion of pol­i­tics which Fas­cism is ren­der­ing aes­thet­ic.” Those who par­tic­i­pate in this spec­ta­cle seek mass vio­lence “to sup­ply the artis­tic grat­i­fi­ca­tion of a sense per­cep­tion that has been changed by tech­nol­o­gy.” Dis­tract­ed and desen­si­tized, they seek, that is, to com­pen­sate for pro­found dis­em­bod­i­ment and the loss of mean­ing­ful, authen­tic expe­ri­ence.

You can read Ben­jam­in’s essay here, or find it in this col­lect­ed vol­ume.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Umber­to Eco Makes a List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

Toni Mor­ri­son Lists the 10 Steps That Lead Coun­tries to Fas­cism (1995)

Are You a Fas­cist?: Take Theodor Adorno’s Author­i­tar­i­an Per­son­al­i­ty Test Cre­at­ed to Com­bat Fas­cism (1947)

The Sto­ry of Fas­cism: Rick Steves’ Doc­u­men­tary Helps Us Learn from the Hard Lessons of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

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

The Metropolitan Museum of Art Restores the Original Colors to Ancient Statues

The idea that the human species can be neat­ly brack­et­ed into racial groups based on super­fi­cial char­ac­ter­is­tics like skin, hair, and eye col­or only devel­oped in the 18th cen­tu­ry, and main­ly took root as a pseu­do-sci­en­tif­ic jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for slav­ery and colo­nial­ism. Cen­tral to that idea was the Clas­si­cal Ide­al of Beau­ty, a stan­dard sup­pos­ed­ly set by Greek and Roman stat­u­ary from antiq­ui­ty. As beliefs in region­al suprema­cy in West­ern Europe trans­formed in the mod­ern era into “White” suprema­cy, the stark white­ness of antique stat­u­ary became a spe­cif­ic point of pride. But ancient peo­ple did not think in terms of race, and ancient sculp­tors nev­er intend­ed their cre­ations to stand around in pub­lic with­out col­or. “For the ancient Greeks and Romans,” Elaine Velie writes at Hyper­al­ler­gic, “white mar­ble was not con­sid­ered the final prod­uct, but rather a blank can­vas.”

As Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art cura­tor Seán Hem­ing­way says, “White suprema­cists have latched onto this idea of white sculp­ture — it’s not true but it serves their pur­pos­es.” Art his­to­ri­ans and con­ser­va­tors have known for decades that stat­ues from antiq­ui­ty were once cov­ered in paint, sil­ver and gild­ing, a process known as poly­chromy. Over time, the col­ors dulled, fad­ed, then dis­ap­peared, leav­ing behind only the faintest traces.

Hus­band-and-wife research team Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrich Koch-Brinkmann have spent over 40 years study­ing poly­chromy and recon­struct­ing ancient sculp­tures as they would have appeared to their first view­ers. “Their Gods in Col­or exhi­bi­tion has been tour­ing since 2003,” Velie writes, “and their repli­cas have been includ­ed in muse­ums around the world.”

Now four­teen of those recon­struc­tions, as well as a cou­ple dozen more cre­at­ed by Met con­ser­va­tors, sci­en­tists, and cura­tors, are scat­tered through­out the Met’s sculp­ture halls, with a small upstairs gallery ded­i­cat­ed to an exhib­it. The exhi­bi­tion explains how researchers deter­mined the stat­ues’ col­ors, “the result of a wide array of ana­lyt­i­cal tech­niques, includ­ing 3D imag­ing and rig­or­ous art his­tor­i­cal research,” writes the Met. As Art­net notes, the “rich­ly col­ored ver­sion of the Met’s Archa­ic-peri­od Sphinx finial,” which you can see at the top of the post, “serves as the cen­ter­piece of the show” – one of the only pieces placed adja­cent to its orig­i­nal so that vis­i­tors can com­pare the two (using an Aug­ment­ed Real­i­ty app to do so; see video above).

Chro­ma: Ancient Sculp­ture in Col­or, which opened on July 5th, dis­abus­es us of old ideas about the blank white­ness of antiq­ui­ty, but that’s hard­ly its only intent. As it does today, col­or “helped con­vey mean­ing in antiq­ui­ty.” The col­ors of ancient stat­ues were not sim­ply dec­o­ra­tive sur­faces – they were inte­gral to the pre­sen­ta­tion of these works. Now, col­or can again be part of how we under­stand and appre­ci­ate clas­si­cal stat­u­ary. And the full accep­tance of poly­chromy in major col­lec­tions like the Met can begin to put to rest false notions about a clas­si­cal devo­tion to white­ness as some ide­al of per­fec­tion. Learn more about the 40 recon­struc­tions in the exhi­bi­tion at the Met here, and learn more about poly­chromy and ancient uses of col­or at the links below.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roman Stat­ues Weren’t White; They Were Once Paint­ed in Vivid, Bright Col­ors

How Ancient Greek Stat­ues Real­ly Looked: Research Reveals Their Bold, Bright Col­ors and Pat­terns

The Met Dig­i­tal­ly Restores the Col­ors of an Ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple, Using Pro­jec­tion Map­ping Tech­nol­o­gy

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

The Homes of 2020 Imagined in 1989: Wireless Audio Systems, Smart Heating, Windows That Turn Into TVs & More

Many trends in archi­tec­ture and home design have come and gone over the past thir­ty years, and some have not spread as far as they might have. The green archi­tec­tur­al move­ment in much of Asia, for exam­ple, in which sky­scrap­ers prac­ti­cal­ly drip with grow­ing things, has­n’t caught on in con­gest­ed cities in the West, and per­haps it nev­er will. Grant­ed, few urban areas have such con­cerns about air qual­i­ty as cities in Chi­na where green build­ings have tak­en hold recent­ly — where 2/3rds of the pop­u­la­tion is slat­ed to live in cities by 2050; and where a mas­sive pop­u­la­tion boom in the last twen­ty years has required four to five mil­lion new build­ings. But even if we don’t live in a bur­geon­ing city with an urgent man­date to reduce car­bon emis­sions for basic pub­lic health, it’s time for brand-new build­ing stan­dards every­where.

The cre­ators of the 1989 BBC episode of Tomor­row’s World had a sense of envi­ron­men­tal urgency, though it was­n’t first on their list of home improve­ments for the build­ings of 2020. After casu­al­ly won­der­ing whether the homes of the future will “pro­tect the envi­ron­ment,” pre­sen­ter Judith Hann turns things over to Chris­tine McNul­ty of the Applied Futures project, who sur­veyed peo­ple to learn “what peo­ple would want from their homes.” What will they want? “All the ben­e­fits of mod­ern tech­nol­o­gy” with few of the draw­backs, such as the unwieldy box­es and tan­gled wires that con­sti­tut­ed audio sys­tems of yore (archa­ic-look­ing here even by 1989 stan­dards).

We got what we want­ed: audio/visual sys­tems can inte­grate seam­less­ly into our homes, with blue­tooth and wire­less and unob­tru­sive com­po­nents. We are liv­ing in a gold­en age of con­sumer enter­tain­ment. We are also liv­ing in a glo­ri­ous time of home automa­tion, which co-host Howard Sta­ble­ford intro­duces in the next seg­ment. Sta­ble­ford shows how we will be able to walk from room to room and have lights turn off and on as we go, tech­nol­o­gy cur­rent­ly avail­able at your local big box store. Lat­er, David But­ton of Pilk­ing­ton Glass intro­duces futur­is­tic tech that could change win­dows or walls into a TV, some­thing we do not see in homes today and for which few con­sumers seem to clam­or.

Final­ly, in the last two seg­ments, we get to pro­jec­tions about ener­gy man­age­ment and smart heat­ing. “Homes are going to have to change,” says Sta­ble­ford, to meet what McNul­ty calls “enor­mous pres­sure to cut down on our burn­ing of fos­sil fuels.” Hann intro­duces build­ing mate­ri­als that could “bring heat­ing bills down to zero.” Sta­ble­ford returns to the idea of automa­tion for ener­gy effi­cient “smart heat­ing.” There is no men­tion of the need for cool­ing homes in a rapid­ly warm­ing world, espe­cial­ly in parts reach­ing aver­age tem­per­a­tures inhos­pitable to human life. 1989 had a pret­ty good read on what we would want in our indi­vid­ual homes, but it could not fore­see how those desires would over­run care for the one home we share.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Buck­min­ster Fuller, Isaac Asi­mov & Oth­er Futur­ists Make Pre­dic­tions About the 21st Cen­tu­ry in 1967: What They Got Right & Wrong

How Pre­vi­ous Decades Pre­dict­ed the Future: The 21st Cen­tu­ry as Imag­ined in the 1900s, 1950s, 1980s, and Oth­er Eras

In 1922, a Nov­el­ist Pre­dicts What the World Will Look Like in 2022: Wire­less Tele­phones, 8‑Hour Flights to Europe & More

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

“Downton Abbey” and the Allure of Historical Drama — Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #127

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We dis­cuss the appeal of this Julian-Fel­lowes-penned British his­tor­i­cal dra­ma in light of the new film. Is this real­ly “a new era” or just more of the same, and is that bad?

Your Pret­ty Much Pop host Mark Lin­sen­may­er is joined by return­ing guest Jon Lam­ore­aux (host of The Hus­tle music pod­cast), plus a cou­ple: for­mer news­cast­er Cor­rinne MacLeod (whom Mark SCANDOLOUSLY went on one date with at age 12) and her hus­band, the pho­tog­ra­ph­er Michael MacLeod.

We talk about the excel­lent cast­ing and how such a big cast gets jug­gled, the appeal of this par­tic­u­lar his­tor­i­cal set­ting, rev­o­lu­tions against the class sys­tem in the show, and the soapy plots. How can a film give us enough of such a big cast? We also touch on The Gild­ed Age, Bridger­ton, Howard’s End, Gos­ford Park, The Great, Poldark, and more.

A few rel­e­vant arti­cles we looked at include:

Hear more Pret­ty Much Pop, includ­ing recent episodes on Jack­ass, This Is Us, and The Expanse. Sup­port the show at patreon.com/prettymuchpop or by choos­ing a paid sub­scrip­tion through Apple Pod­casts. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

John Waters’ Comical & Inspiring Commencement Speech: “You Too Can Fail Upwards” (2022)

John Waters has­n’t made a movie in quite some time, but that does­n’t mean he’s gone qui­et. In fact he’s remained as vis­i­ble a cul­tur­al fig­ure as ever by work­ing in oth­er forms: writ­ing a new nov­el, act­ing on tele­vi­sion, deliv­er­ing com­mence­ment address­es. His ded­i­ca­tion to that last pur­suit is such that he even kept it up in 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic. That year he deliv­ered his com­mence­ment speech for New York’s School of Visu­al Arts not at Radio City Music Hall, as sched­uled, but in front of a green screen in Bal­ti­more — which, of course, only enriched the Waters­esque sen­si­bil­i­ty of the pro­ceed­ings.

Hav­ing been forced into the role of “vir­tu­al keynote speak­er,” Waters made up for it this year by deliv­er­ing, in per­son, a make-up com­mence­ment address for the SVA class­es of both 2020 and 2021. And he did it onstage at Radio City, a venue “known for fam­i­ly movies and the Rock­ettes. What the hell am I doing here?” As usu­al in this phase of his career, Waters express­es sur­prise to find him­self in the role of elder states­man.

“In 2020, the School of Visu­al Arts gave me an hon­orary degree for, I guess, caus­ing trou­ble,” he says. “This year, the Nation­al Film Reg­istry — yes, that’s part of the Library of Con­gress, the U.S. Gov­ern­ment, for god’s sake — select­ed my film Pink Flamin­gos, which New York mag­a­zine once called ‘beyond pornog­ra­phy,’ to its annu­al list of 25 cul­tur­al­ly his­toric films.”

Safe to say that, half a cen­tu­ry after its release, Waters’ most noto­ri­ous motion pic­ture does­n’t repel the estab­lish­ment as it once did. And indeed, here in the 2020s, how can an artist get trans­gres­sive at all? Waters has much encour­age­ment and advice for young peo­ple in search of new bound­aries to vio­late. “Out­sider old mas­ter paint­ings, nar­ra­tive abstract expres­sion­ism, impen­e­tra­ble pop, dec­o­ra­tive min­i­mal­ism, non-con­cep­tu­al­ism, video folk art, appro­pri­at­ed NFT”: these are just a few of the artis­tic ven­tures not yet attempt­ed that could turn their pop­u­lar­iz­ers into cul­tur­al phe­nom­e­na. “You too can fail upwards, if you try,” Waters insists, but you’ve got to do it with a sense of humor. “Mock your­self first. Then you can be as crazi­ly right­eous as you want.”

Relat­ed con­tent:

John Waters’ RISD Grad­u­a­tion Speech: Real Wealth Is Life With­out A*Holes

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

An Anti, Anti-Smok­ing Announce­ment from John Waters

David Lynch Gives Uncon­ven­tion­al Advice to Grad­u­ates in an Unusu­al Com­mence­ment Address

John Waters Talks About His Books and Role Mod­els in a Whim­si­cal Ani­mat­ed Video

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.


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