Ben Frost makes cool art.
- When Warren Ellis blogs about blogging its worth paying attention.
- Fraidycat 1.1 is here. It allows you to follow people on sites like Twitter, Instagram, Github and more without an account.
- Bill Ratcliffe on Flickr. Damn
- Gatsby is another open source, free platform for building websites and apps.
- Venkatesh Rao has some characteristically insightful things to say about the the text renaissance in online media.
- Artist in the World is an enormous collection of photographs by André Smits showing artists, from behind in their studios. It’s mesmerizing.
Jeronimus Dekker’s Tales from Weirdland is a “Sentient Youtube channel”. I’ll be honest, I don’t know much at all about it. What I do know is that I am obsessed with the associated Tales from Weirdland tumblr blog. It’s a regular stream of ephemera that feels like it was curated specifically for me. If you like to browse images of fantastical concept art, animation, illustration, and photography then this is a place you will love. Its really beautiful.
I love tumblr. My dash has been on a pretty amazing hot streak lately:
- Here’s a complete rework of Anakin Skywalker’s tragic character arc . This is a tour de force of tumblr discourse. I would watch the fuck out of this.
- The evolution of clown species. Tumblr is back on it’s glorious bullshit.
- Here’s a long tumblr group imporv that tells the story of a Roomba with a knife taped to it becomes humanity’s honored representative to a galactic UN. I know, right!?
Foolish Questions: Art Spiegelman’s review of Screwball!: The Cartoonists That Made the Funnies Funny by Paul C. Tumey is a wonderful long-read. The review itself was fascinating and informative. I never knew Rube Goldberg was an actual person.
Nate Dimeo is a national treasure. His podcast, The Memory Palace is one of the most consistently wonderful ways to spend ones time and attention. Each episode is a perfect, and precisely cut gem carrying a bit of forgotten history forward through time with meticulous care, and genuine artistry. Its difficult to pick a selection of recommendations, but here are a few that I always think of first:
DiMeo was named Artist in Residence at the Metropolitan Museum of art in New York City from 2016 to 2017. During that time he produced eight stories inpired by the collection there. On November 7th of 2016, he read Walt Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ in it’s entirety. Its not hyperbole to say that The Memory Palace is podcasting elevated to art.
Memory Palace episodes are ususally 10 to 15 miuntes, short for podcast but less of a time commitment as well. They are well researched, reliably spellbinding, and each one ends with 12 seconds of silence allowing the listener a generous space to emerge from the story before the short sign off. Every episode is beautiful and informative. In case its not already obvious, I can’t recommend it enough. If you do nothing else this year please listen to one episode. I really think you’ll be happy you did.
There is a subreddit where people are using Google to translate the dialogue of Star Wars movies into Chinese, and then back to a English. Then they are actually dubbing them onto the scenes. The dubbing is pretty well done. Here are a few stills that will show you the comedy genius of this idea.
The Tumblr link mentions something similar for Lord of the Rings which I am now off to find!
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This wonderful poem by Danusha Laméris seems a good way to start the week:
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead–you first,” “I like your hat.”
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