February 2016 - Page 9 of 12 - Open Culture archive | Open Culture February 2016 - Page 9 of 12 - Open Culture



Iggy Pop Reads Walt Whitman in Collaborations With Electronic Artists Alva Noto and Tarwater

whitman pop

Image of Iggy Pop by Patrick McAlpine, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

I don’t know why no one thought of this ages ago: an album of Walt Whitman’s poet­ry, set to moody, atmos­pher­ic elec­tron­ic music and read by for­mer Stooge and cur­rent Amer­i­can badass Iggy Pop. It makes per­fect sense. Though Pop may lack Whitman’s ver­bal excess­es, pre­fer­ring more Spar­tan punk rock state­ments, he per­fect­ly embodies—in a very lit­er­al way—Whitman’s fear­less, sex­u­al­ly-charged “bar­bar­ic yawp.” And both artists are very much Amer­i­can orig­i­nals: large­ly self-taught Whit­man cast aside 19th-cen­tu­ry deco­rum and for­mal con­straints to write wild­ly expres­sive verse that cel­e­brat­ed the body, the indi­vid­ual, and Amer­i­can indus­tri­al noise; self-taught Pop cast aside 20th cen­tu­ry rock for­mal­ism to cre­ate dan­ger­ous­ly expres­sive music that cel­e­brat­ed… well, you get the idea.

I don’t know if he would have writ­ten “Now I wan­na be your dog,” but in con­trast to “the pop­u­lar, well-edu­cat­ed poets of the time, those sen­si­tive noble­men,” Whit­man wrote—says Pop in his own dis­tinc­tive paraphrase—“Fuc% as$.” 

You know, I think he had some­thing like Elvis. Like Elvis ahead of his time, one of the first man­ic Amer­i­can pop­ulists. You know you’re look­ing at pic­tures of him, and he was obvi­ous­ly some­one who was very much involved with his own phys­i­cal appear­ance. His poet­ry is always about motion and rush­ing ahead, and crazy love and blood push­ing through the body. He would have been the per­fect gang­ster rap­per. Whit­man says, even the most beau­ti­ful face is not as beau­ti­ful as the body. And to say that in the mid­dle of the 19th cen­tu­ry is out­ra­geous. It’s a slap in the face. 

Of the many rock and roll inter­preters of lit­er­ary greats we’ve fea­tured on this site, I’d say Iggy Pop’s read­ing of, and com­men­tary on, Whit­man may be my favorite.

Unfor­tu­nate­ly, we can only bring you a short excerpt, above, from Pop’s col­lab­o­ra­tion with instru­men­tal duo Tar­wa­ter and Ger­man elec­tron­ic artist Alva Noto (who recent­ly scored Ale­jan­dro Iñárritu’s The Revenant with Yel­low Mag­ic Orchestra’s Ryuichi Sakamo­to). This two-minute sam­ple comes from a 2014 album these artists made togeth­er called Kinder Adams—Children of Adam, which fea­tures sev­er­al abridged ren­di­tions in Ger­man of Whitman’s most famous book, Leaves of Grass by var­i­ous voice actors, then a com­plete read­ing by Pop, set to a throb­bing, haunt­ing score.

Now, Pop, Alva Noto, and Tar­wa­ter have come togeth­er again to revis­it Whit­man with a sev­en-track EP sim­ply titled Leaves of Grass. Like the ear­ly, self-pub­lished first edi­tion of Whitman’s book, this work will only reach a few hands. “Released on Morr Music with no dig­i­tal ver­sion planned,” reports Fact Mag, “Leaves of Grass is only avail­able in a lim­it­ed vinyl edi­tion of just 500 copies, com­plete with embossed art­work.” You can pur­chase a copy of this arti­fact here (act fast), or—if you pre­fer your more tra­di­tion­al Iggy Pop with­out the lit­er­a­ture, moody, post-rock sound­scapes, and rar­efied formats—wait for his new album in March with Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, sure to hit dig­i­tal out­lets near you. Whether or not he’s read­ing Whit­man, he’s always chan­nel­ing the poet­’s ener­gy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Iggy Pop Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s Clas­sic Hor­ror Sto­ry, “The Tell-Tale Heart”

Tom Waits Reads Two Charles Bukows­ki Poems, “The Laugh­ing Heart” and “Nir­vana”

Walt Whitman’s Poem “A Noise­less Patient Spi­der” Brought to Life in Three Ani­ma­tions

Orson Welles Reads From America’s Great­est Poem, Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” (1953)

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

Claymation Film Recreates Historic Chess Match Immortalized in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey

Fans of Stan­ley Kubrick­’s 2001: A Space Odyssey will remem­ber the scene: On a long jour­ney through space, astro­naut Frank Poole plays a casu­al game of chess with the HAL 9000 super­com­put­er … and los­es deci­sive­ly. No doubt about it. Watch it down below.

Pas­sion­ate about chess and noto­ri­ous­ly obsessed with detail, Kubrick based the scene on a chess match that took place in 1910, pit­ting the Ger­man chess­mas­ter Willi Schlage against a fel­low named A. Roesch. Whether Kubrick was per­son­al­ly famil­iar with the match, or sim­ply found it by perus­ing Irv­ing Chernev’s book The 1000 Best Short Games of Chess (p. 148), it’s not entire­ly clear. But what we do know is that Kubrick­’s scene immor­tal­ized the Schlage — Roesch match played all of those years ago. And it inspired ani­ma­tor Ric­car­do Cro­cetta to recre­ate that 1910 match in the fine clay­ma­tion above. The notes accom­pa­ny­ing Cro­cetta’s film on YouTube record all of the orig­i­nal moves. Appar­ent­ly the ones fea­tured in 2001 come after black­’s 13th move.

Game: 1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 Nf6 5. Qe2 b5 6. Bb3 Be7 7. c3 O‑O 8. O‑O d5 9. exd5 Nxd5 10. Nxe5 Nf4 11. Qe4 Nxe5 12. Qxa8 Qd3 13. Bd1 Bh3 14. Qxa6 Bxg2 15. Re1 Qf3 16. Bxf3 Nxf3#

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Wis­dom & Advice of Mau­rice Ash­ley, the First African-Amer­i­can Chess Grand­mas­ter

Vladimir Nabokov’s Hand-Drawn Sketch­es of Mind-Bend­ing Chess Prob­lems

Watch Bill Gates Lose a Chess Match in 79 Sec­onds to the New World Chess Cham­pi­on Mag­nus Carlsen

Mar­cel Duchamp, Chess Enthu­si­ast, Cre­at­ed an Art Deco Chess Set That’s Now Avail­able via 3D Print­er

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

Priceless 145-Year-Old Martin Guitar Accidentally Gets Smashed to Smithereens in Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight

Quentin Taran­ti­no has always had a way of get­ting on the wrong side of var­i­ous groups. Most recent­ly he angered the gui­tar-heads of the world when, to their shock and dis­may, it came out that, under the auteur’s watch on the set of his lat­est pic­ture, the post-Civ­il War inten­si­fied West­ern The Hate­ful Eight, a price­less 145-year-old six-string met its bru­tal end. “In the scene in ques­tion,” writes Van­i­ty Fair’s Rachel Han­dler, Kurt Rus­sell, “as boun­ty hunter John ‘The Hang­man’ Ruth, snatch­es the gui­tar from the hands of Jen­nifer Jason Leigh’s Daisy Domer­gue and hurls it against the wall, as one does.” That gui­tar — “an invalu­able his­tor­i­cal arti­fact,” Han­dler explains — came on loan from Pennsylvania’s Mar­tin Gui­tar Muse­um (and its like­ly irked direc­tor Dick Boak).

Even if you don’t play the gui­tar your­self, you’ve prob­a­bly heard of the Mar­tin brand name. Estab­lished in 1833 in New York as the cab­i­net-mak­ing C.F. Mar­tin & Com­pa­ny, they went on to intro­duce some of the inno­va­tions that have come to define the acoustic gui­tar as we know it today, from X‑bracing in the 1850s to met­al strings, replac­ing tra­di­tion­al catgut, in the ear­ly 1900s. The ill-fat­ed spec­i­men lost to the hands of Kurt Rus­sell — who, accord­ing to the pro­duc­tion’s offi­cial sto­ry, nev­er got the memo about cut­ting and swap­ping out a repli­ca before the smash — which the Mar­tin Gui­tar Muse­um orig­i­nal­ly acquired (and insured) for about $40,000, came out of the Mar­tin work­shop in the 1870s.

Nat­u­ral­ly, the far­ther back you go in gui­tar-mak­ing his­to­ry, the few­er gui­tars made at the time still exist. You can still go out and buy a ser­vice­able gui­tar from the end of the 19th cen­tu­ry with­out com­plete­ly wip­ing out your sav­ings, but you’d be hard pressed to find a Mar­tin made a few decades ear­li­er — such as the one smashed in The Hate­ful Eight — at any price at all; less than ten may exist any­where. But Mar­t­in’s sol­id stan­dard of crafts­man­ship ensured that their instru­ment would hold up over the 140 or so years until a film­mak­er want­ed to use it as a prop in his peri­od piece, where it still, aes­thet­i­cal­ly as well as son­i­cal­ly, fit right in. Still, no gui­tar could hold up against the vicious­ness of a char­ac­ter like The Hang­man as envi­sioned by Taran­ti­no — nor against the ded­i­ca­tion of a direc­tor like Taran­ti­no who, always in search of a per­fect­ly vis­cer­al moment, sim­ply can’t bear to cut.

Well, at least he was­n’t using the last playable Stradi­var­ius gui­tar in the world. The Mar­tin Muse­um retained the pres­ence of mind to ask for their gui­tar’s pieces back, and though they could­n’t put the his­tor­i­cal instru­ment back togeth­er again, maybe they’ll find a place to dis­play the frag­ments them­selves. That way, both gui­tar-heads and cinephiles could pay their respects.

via Geek.com

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Musi­cian Plays the Last Stradi­var­ius Gui­tar in the World, the “Sabionari” Made in 1679

Dave Grohl Shows How He Plays the Gui­tar As If It Were a Drum Kit

How Fend­er Gui­tars Are Made, Then (1959) and Nowa­days (2012)

The Sto­ry of the Gui­tar: The Com­plete Three-Part Doc­u­men­tary

The Real Val­ue of a Gui­tar

Eric Clap­ton Tries Out Gui­tars at Home and Talks About the Bea­t­les, Cream, and His Musi­cal Roots

Gui­tar Sto­ries: Mark Knopfler on the Six Gui­tars That Shaped His Career

Bri­an May’s Home­made Gui­tar, Made From Old Tables, Bike and Motor­cy­cle Parts & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, 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.

Take a Virtual Tour of Hieronymus Bosch’s Bewildering Masterpiece The Garden of Earthly Delights

Bosch 1

Art his­to­ri­ans have argued about the mean­ing of The Gar­den of Earth­ly DelightsHierony­mus Bosch’s enor­mous­ly sized, lav­ish­ly detailed, and com­pelling­ly grotesque late 14th- or ear­ly 15th-cen­tu­ry triptych—more or less since the painter’s death. What does it real­ly say about the appear­ance and fall of man on Earth that it seems to depict? How seri­ous­ly or iron­i­cal­ly does it say it? Does it offer us a warn­ing against temp­ta­tion, or a cel­e­bra­tion of temp­ta­tion? Does it take a reli­gious or anti-reli­gious stance? And what’s with all those creepy ani­mals and bizarre pseu­do-sex acts? “In spite of all the inge­nious, eru­dite and in part extreme­ly use­ful research devot­ed to the task,” said schol­ar Erwin Panof­sky, “I can­not help feel­ing that the real secret of his mag­nif­i­cent night­mares and day­dreams has still to be dis­closed.”

Bosch 2

Panof­sky said that in the 1950s, by which era he summed up the accu­mu­lat­ed efforts to decode Bosch as hav­ing “bored a few holes through the door of the locked room; but some­how we do not seem to have dis­cov­ered the key.” Now you can at least try your own hand at knock­ing on the door with this “inter­ac­tive doc­u­men­tary” of The Gar­den of Ear­ly Delights, which allows you to explore the paint­ing in depth, read­ing and hear­ing what sto­ries we know of the many images night­mar­ish­ly and often hilar­i­ous­ly pre­sent­ed with­in, while you zoom far clos­er than you could while even stand­ing before the real thing at the Pra­do.

(Assum­ing you could suc­cess­ful­ly elbow your way past all the tour groups.)  “The vis­i­tor of the inter­ac­tive doc­u­men­tary will get a bet­ter under­stand­ing of what it was like to live in the Late Mid­dle Ages,” says the offi­cial descrip­tion, which also assures us we can “come back after a vis­it and pick up the book again from the shelf to fur­ther explore.”

Bosch 3

The project comes as part of a larg­er “trans­me­dia tryp­tich,” which also con­sists of the tra­di­tion­al doc­u­men­tary film Hierony­mus Bosch, Touched by the Dev­il (whose trail­er you can see below) and a “vir­tu­al real­i­ty doc­u­men­tary” called Hierony­mus Bosch, the Eyes of the Owl. I find that last title espe­cial­ly appro­pri­ate, since I’ve long enjoyed Bosch’s recur­ring owls and appre­ci­ate the abil­i­ty this high­ly zoomable Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights offers me to count them one by one. Spend some time roam­ing Bosch’s vision’s par­adise, bac­cha­nal, and damna­tion and, whether you take the guid­ed tour through them or not, you’ll find much to stare at in sheer fas­ci­na­tion — and, as often as not, dis­be­lief.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dutch Book From 1692 Doc­u­ments Every Col­or Under the Sun: A Pre-Pan­tone Guide to Col­ors

300+ Etch­ings by Rem­brandt Now Free Online, Thanks to the Mor­gan Library & Muse­um

Rijksmu­se­um Dig­i­tizes & Makes Free Online 210,000 Works of Art, Mas­ter­pieces Includ­ed!

16th-Cen­tu­ry Ams­ter­dam Stun­ning­ly Visu­al­ized with 3D Ani­ma­tion

Mas­ter of Light: A Close Look at the Paint­ings of Johannes Ver­meer Nar­rat­ed by Meryl Streep

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, 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.

Musician Plays the Last Stradivarius Guitar in the World, the “Sabionari” Made in 1679

Last night, while the home team lost the big game on TVs at a local dive bar, my noisy rock band opened for a cham­ber pop ensem­ble. Elec­tric gui­tars and feed­back gave way to clas­si­cal acoustics, vio­lin, piano, accor­dion, and even a saw. It was an inter­est­ing cul­tur­al jux­ta­po­si­tion in an evening of cul­tur­al jux­ta­po­si­tions. The sports and music did­n’t gel, but an odd sym­me­try emerged from the two bands’ con­trast­ing styles, to a degree. The instru­ment above, on the oth­er hand, would have fit right in with the sec­ond act, whose old world charm would sure­ly find a place for a 1679 guitar—one craft­ed by the leg­endary mas­ter luthi­er Anto­nio Stradi­vari, no less.

If you know noth­ing at all about music or musi­cal instru­ments, you know the name Stradi­vari and the vio­lins that bear his name. They are such cov­et­ed, valu­able objects they some­times appear as the tar­get of crime capers in the movies and on tele­vi­sion. This Stradi­var­ius gui­tar, called the “Sabionari,” is even rar­er than the vio­lins. The Stradi­vari fam­i­ly, writes For­got­ten Gui­tar, “pro­duced over 1000 instru­ments, of which 960 were vio­lins.” Yet, “a small num­ber of gui­tars were also craft­ed, and as of today only one remains playable.” High­ly playable, you’ll observe in these videos, thanks to the restora­tion by luthiers Daniel Sinier, Fran­coise de Rid­der, and Loren­zo Frig­nani.

In the clip just above, Baroque con­cert gui­tarist Rolf Lisl­e­vand plays San­ti­a­go de Mur­ci­a’s “Taran­tela” on the restored gui­tar, whose sonorous ring­ing tim­bre recalls anoth­er Baroque instru­ment, the harp­si­chord.

So unique and unusu­al is the ten-string Stradi­var­ius Sabionari that it has its own web­site, where you’ll find many detailed, close-up pho­tos of the ele­gant design as well as more music, like the piece above, Ange­lo Michele Bar­tolot­ti’s Suite in G Minor as per­formed by clas­si­cal gui­tarist Krish­na­sol Jiménez, who, along with Lisl­e­vand, has been entrust­ed with the instru­ment for many live per­for­mances. Owned by a pri­vate col­lec­tor, the Sabionari went on dis­play last year in Basel and very often appears at lec­tures on restora­tion and con­ser­va­tion of clas­si­cal instru­ments, as well as in per­for­mances around Europe. The Sabionari.com web­mas­ter has not kept the “Events” page up to date, unfor­tu­nate­ly, but you should scroll through it regard­less. You’ll find there many more videos of the gui­tar in action (like that below of gui­tarist Ugo Nas­truc­ci impro­vis­ing), links to exhibits, descrip­tions of the chal­leng­ing­ly long neck and Baroque tun­ing, and a sense of just how much the Sabionari gets around for such a rare, antique instru­ment.

via For­got­ten Gui­tar

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Musi­cians Play Bach on the Octo­bass, the Gar­gan­tu­an String Instru­ment Invent­ed in 1850

Why Vio­lins Have F‑Holes: The Sci­ence & His­to­ry of a Remark­able Renais­sance Design

What Does a $45 Mil­lion Vio­la Sound Like? Vio­list David Aaron Car­pen­ter Gives You a Pre­view

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

Watch Star Trek Continues: The Critically-Acclaimed, Fan-Made Sequel to the Original TV Series

Despite its lega­cy and influ­ence, the orig­i­nal Star Trek ran three sea­sons (or 79 episodes in total) before NBC can­celed the show in June, 1969. Only in syn­di­ca­tion did Star Trek achieve cult sta­tus, and did its grow­ing num­ber of fans start to won­der: What if Star Trek had con­tin­ued? How would the sto­ry have played out? Enter Star Trek Con­tin­ues, a crit­i­cal­ly-acclaimed, fan-pro­duced web­series cre­at­ed by direc­tor and actor Vic Mignogna.

If you ask the son of Gene Rod­den­ber­ry, the cre­ator of the orig­i­nal TV series, Star Trek Con­tin­ues has man­aged to cre­ate a bona fide sequel. “I do have to say … I’m pret­ty damn sure my dad would con­sid­er this canon. The fact that you do sto­ries that mean some­thing, that have depth, that make us all think a lit­tle bit… I real­ly think he would applaud you guys.”

The Wall Street Jour­nal adds to this:

[Star Trek Con­tin­ues] comes fright­en­ing­ly close to repli­cat­ing the orig­i­nal series, in the sets, make-up and hair­styles, cos­tumes and music… The art direc­tion pre­cise­ly cap­tures the Day-Glo visu­als of ear­ly col­or TV. Most remark­able is Mr. Mignogna; no actor play­ing, for instance, James Bond has imi­tat­ed Sean Con­nery out­right, but Mr. Mignogna comes so scar­i­ly close to the dynam­ic, stac­ca­to ener­gy of William Shat­ner that we keep for­get­ting we’re look­ing at anoth­er actor.

Thanks to fund­ing raised by two Kick­starter cam­paigns, you can now watch 5 episodes. Click play and watch the episodes on a Youtube playlist above, from start to fin­ish. Or watch them on the offi­cial Star Trek Con­tin­ues web­site, where, among oth­er things, you can take a 360 vir­tu­al tour of the set. You can also make a dona­tion, which will help sup­port the 6th episode due out in May, and anoth­er 7 episodes beyond that.

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:

How Isaac Asi­mov Went from Star Trek Crit­ic to Star Trek­Fan & Advi­sor

Nichelle Nichols Explains How Mar­tin Luther King Con­vinced Her to Stay on Star Trek

The Com­plete Star Wars “Fil­mu­men­tary”: A 6‑Hour, Fan-Made Star Wars Doc­u­men­tary, with Behind-the-Scenes Footage & Com­men­tary

Hard­ware Wars: The Moth­er of All Star Wars Fan Films (and the Most Prof­itable Short Film Ever Made)

Star Wars Uncut: The Epic Fan Film

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 39 ) |

Hear Strung Out in Heaven, a Gorgeous Tribute to David Bowie by Amanda Palmer & Jherek Bischoff’s, Made with Help from Neil Gaiman

Strung Out in Heaven

The last four weeks have seen thou­sands of trib­utes to rock­er David Bowie.

Strung Out In Heav­en: A Bowie String Quar­tet Trib­ute by Aman­da Palmer and her The­atre is Evil col­lab­o­ra­tor, pop poly­math Jherek Bischoff, is both gor­geous and ambi­tious.

It came togeth­er quick­ly. Bischoff arranged the album’s five tracks and spent three and a half hours record­ing the strings (Ser­e­na McK­in­ney and Alyssa Park​ on vio­lin, Ben Ullery​ on vio­la, and Jacob Braun on cel­lo).

Mean­while new moth­er Palmer lined up three days worth of babysit­ting in order to dive back into the stu­dio. She also tapped some famous friends, who con­tributed in small­er ways.

The record­ing, coor­di­na­tion, guest appear­ances… and babysit­ting were financed by a stock­pile from Palmer’s 7000-some sup­port­ers on the crowd­fund­ing site Patre­on.

It doesn’t sound like a whip out.

Here’s Palmer’s hus­band, author Neil Gaiman, count­ing down to lift-off on “Space Odd­i­ty:

And writer/director John Cameron Mitchell, who record­ed the “Heroes” call and response on an iPhone in his apart­ment…

…and chan­neled Hed­wig for the Ger­man ver­sion:

Gaiman ques­tioned Palmer’s choice to lead with the title track of Bowie’s final album, but as she told New Musi­cal Express, a lot of fresh­ly mint­ed mil­len­ni­al Bowie fans among her Patre­on sup­port­ers list­ed “Black­star” as a favorite. Singer Anna Calvi duets and plays gui­tar on this stripped down ver­sion:

Each tune is matched to a Bowie-cen­tric image by a visu­al artist. On Palmer’s Patre­on blog,“Blackstar” artist, ele­men­tary school teacher, and can­cer sur­vivor Cas­san­dra Long writes about dis­cussing Bowie’s death with a room­ful of kinder­garten­ers. Palmer plans to pro­vide a sim­i­lar plat­form to the oth­er par­tic­i­pat­ing artists in the days to come.

The fin­ished prod­uct is both pro­fes­sion­al and a labor of love.

Music is the bind­ing agent of our mun­dane lives. It cements the moments in which we wash the dish­es, type the resumes, go to the funer­als, have the babies. The stronger the agent, the tougher the mem­o­ry, and Bowie was NASA-grade epoxy to a sprawl­ing span of freaked-out kids over three gen­er­a­tions. He bond­ed us to our weird selves…Bowie worked on music up to the end to give us a part­ing gift. So this is how we, as musi­cians, mourn: keep­ing Bowie con­stant­ly in our ears and brains. 

 — Aman­da Palmer

The com­plete track­list is below. You can lis­ten for free, but an ante-up will help Palmer cov­er 9¢ in licens­ing fees every time one of the songs is streamed. Any left­over pro­ceeds from sales through March 5th will be donat­ed to Tufts Med­ical Cen­ter’s can­cer research wing in mem­o­ry of David Bowie.

Strung Out in Heav­en:

01 “Black­star”  fea­tur­ing Anna Calvi

02 “Space Odd­i­ty” fea­tur­ing Neil Gaiman

03 “Ash­es to Ash­es”

04 “Heroes” fea­tur­ing John Cameron Mitchell

05 Helden” fea­tur­ing  John Cameron Mitchell

06 “Life on Mars?”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Gives Grad­u­a­tion Speech At Berklee Col­lege of Music: “Music Has Been My Door­way of Per­cep­tion” (1999)

David Bowie (RIP) Sings “Changes” in His Last Live Per­for­mance, 2006

Aman­da Palmer Ani­mates & Nar­rates Hus­band Neil Gaiman’s Uncon­scious Mus­ings

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

Walk Inside a Surrealist Salvador Dalí Painting with This 360º Virtual Reality Video


Click on the arrows to get the full 360 degree expe­ri­ence.

I felt as impressed as every­one else did when I saw my first 360-degree video, the tech­nol­o­gy that allows view­ers to “look” in any direc­tion they wish. But most of the 360-degree videos that became pop­u­lar ear­ly sim­ply demon­strat­ed the con­cept, and as much aston­ish­ment as the expe­ri­ence of the con­cept alone can gen­er­ate, even more excite­ment came from think­ing about the tech­nol­o­gy’s poten­tial. It has­n’t tak­en long for 360-degree videos to look beyond vir­tu­al real­i­ty — indeed, to look all the way to vir­tu­al sur­re­al­i­ty, as envi­sioned by per­haps the best-known sur­re­al­ist of them all, Sal­vador Dalí.

“Dreams of Dalí,” the 36o-degree video above, drops you into the world of Dalí’s 1935 can­vas Archae­o­log­i­cal Rem­i­nis­cence of Millet’s ‘Angelus,’  an homage to an ear­li­er work (Jean-François Millet’s paint­ing, “The Angelus”) which enjoyed enor­mous pop­u­lar­i­ty dur­ing Dalí’s youth. This ear­li­er work, notes the Dalí’ Muse­um, was “repro­duced on every­thing from prints and post­cards to every­day objects like teacups and inkwells. The late 19th cen­tu­ry paint­ing depicts a peas­ant cou­ple stand­ing in a field with their heads bowed in prayer. For many it was a sen­ti­men­tal work, but for Dalí’ it was trou­bling, with lay­ers of hid­den mean­ing, which he explored through day­dreams and fan­tasies.”

As the artist him­self put it, “I sur­ren­dered myself to a brief fan­ta­sy dur­ing which I imag­ined sculp­tures of the two fig­ures in Millet’s ‘Angelus’ carved out of the high­est rocks.” His for­mi­da­ble imag­i­na­tion con­vert­ed that mid-19th-cen­tu­ry image of rur­al hard­ship and piety into the moon­lit desert land­scape through which “Dreams of Dalí” flies you. Cre­at­ed for “Dis­ney and Dalí: Archi­tects of the Imag­i­na­tion,” an exhib­it at St. Peters­burg, Flori­da’s Dalí Muse­um on the friend­ship and col­lab­o­ra­tion between those two vision­ary 20th-cen­tu­ry world-cre­ators (see Des­ti­no, the short film Dalí and Dis­ney col­lab­o­rat­ed on), the video not only gives the paint­ing a third spa­tial dimen­sion, but a detailed son­ic one fea­tur­ing the god­like voice of Dalí him­self.

If you make use of the arrows that appear in the video’s upper-left cor­ner or click and drag (or, on smart­phones, press and drag with your fin­ger) with­in the frame, you can turn the “cam­era” in any direc­tion. Pay close enough atten­tion, and you’ll spot more than a few touch­es not includ­ed in the orig­i­nal paint­ing that will nonethe­less delight fans of the Dalí sen­si­bil­i­ty, not all of which you can catch on your first flight through. But as much as the expe­ri­ence may feel like a dream — and it counts as one of the few works to real­ly mer­it the term “dream­like” — it won’t van­ish as soon as you emerge from it; you can have at it again and again, see­ing some­thing new and sur­pris­ing each time.

via The Cre­ator’s Project

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sal­vador Dalí & Walt Disney’s Des­ti­no: See the Col­lab­o­ra­tive Film, Orig­i­nal Sto­ry­boards & Ink Draw­ings

Sal­vador Dalí Goes to Hol­ly­wood & Cre­ates Wild Dream Sequences for Hitch­cock & Vin­cente Min­nel­li

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

The Seashell and the Cler­gy­man: The World’s First Sur­re­al­ist Film

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

A Soft Self-Por­trait of Sal­vador Dali, Nar­rat­ed by the Great Orson Welles

A Tour Inside Sal­vador Dalí’s Labyrinthine Span­ish Home

Sal­vador Dalí Illus­trates Don Quixote: Two Spaniards with Unique World Views

Sal­vador Dalí’s Haunt­ing 1975 Illus­tra­tions for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juli­et

Sal­vador Dalí Illus­trates Shakespeare’s Mac­beth

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, 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.

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