Listening to Poetry

Listening to a poem can change everything. As you’ve read before on the Core Blog, James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake seems much less incomprehensible when Joyce is reading it. But what about poetry, so focused on the language and word play, frequently taking at least three readings to understand fully? Yeah, listening to those read can be truly beautiful as well. Poetry has as much a relationship with sound as it does with language. Knowing this, the Poetry Foundation has created a podcast of Donald Hall’s list of Essential American Poets reading their own poems. This episode contains three poems by E.E. Cummings who reads them slowly in his melodic voice. I mean, who doesn’t want to hear the genius himself say “if freedom is a breakfast food”? We at Core just love that kind of stuff.

So start your break off right with something calming and educational, and let us know if you think the poem has greater meaning after hearing it read. We think so, but we always love hearing your opinion.

Frank Hurley: Color Photographs of the Antarctic in 1915

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James Francis "Frank" Hurley (1885 - 1962)

Color photography has been around far longer than often assumed. Attempts had been made as early as the 1840s and in the mid 19th century several techniques were developed, although no affordable methods were readily available until the mid 20th century. One early technique was the Paget process, most memorably used by Australian photographer James Francis "Frank" Hurley. Hurley visited the Antarctic six times between 1911 and 1932 but most memorable was the disastrous Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-17 led by Sir Ernest Shackleton. Photography was hard enough in the 1910s, but in the Antarctic it was rendered even more difficult. Hurley wrote in his diary on August 30, 1915:

Dark room work rendered extremely difficult by the low temperatures, it being -13 (-25 degrees Celsius) outside. Washing plates is a most troublesome operation, as the tank must be kept warm or the plates become an enclosure in an ice block.

Although Hurley took over 400 photographs, but many of the plates had to be smashed when the ship, fittingly named Endurance, became trapped in the ice and the adventurers were forced to make their way north in lifeboats. Fortunately, a select 120 were chosen to survive the perilous adventure.

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The "Endurance" under full sail, held up in the Weddell Sea.

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The bosun of the "Endurance" mending a net.

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"Endurance" in Antarctica - the pink glow of the rising sun shining on a pressure ridge

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Glimpse of the Ship through Hummocks

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New Fortuna Glacier

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The chick of the Wanderer Albatross

Hurley was not only skilled with color. Most of the photographs from his career were the standard black and white.

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More photos from Frank Hurley's Antarctic adventures can be viewed at New South Wales State Library's site.

Core on the Metro

This photo (courtesy Prof. Hamill) shows the Core expedition to NYC in December 2013 to see a puppet-show performance of Plato's Republic. Which is the kind of thing Core people do for fun. Core.

Core in NY

Earliest Human DNA Brings Forth New Mysteries

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Recently, DNA has been extracted from a 400,000 year old femur discovered at an archaeological site in Spain. The DNA is the oldest yet published and its findings have surprised researchers because it was found to be more closely linked to the Denisovans, rather than Neanderthals as would be expected.

The fossil was excavated in the 1990s from a deep cave in a well-studied site in northern Spain called Sima de los Huesos (‘pit of bones’). This femur and the remains of more than two dozen other hominins found at the site have previously been attributed either to early forms of Neanderthals, who lived in Europe until about 30,000 years ago, or to Homo heidelbergensis, a loosely defined hominin population that gave rise to Neanderthals in Europe and possibly humans in Africa.

But a closer link to Neanderthals than to Denisovans was not what was discovered by the team led by Svante Pääbo, a molecular geneticist at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany.

The team sequenced most of the femur’s mitochondrial genome, which is made up of DNA from the cell’s energy-producing structures and passed down the maternal line. The resulting phylogenetic analysis ­— which shows branches in evolutionary history — placed the DNA closer to that of Denisovans than to Neanderthals or modern humans. “This really raises more questions than it answers,” Pääbo says.

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However, it is important to remember that, unlike nuclear DNA which is contains material from both parents, mitochondrial DNA is only passed down maternally so these findings do not necessarily mean that these homonins were more closely related to the Denisovans, who are believed to have lived in southwestern Siberia thousands of years later. With this in mind, the unexpected link is still surprising and creates new questions. Pääbo speculates:

previously published full nuclear genomes of Neanderthals and Denisovans suggest that the two had a common ancestor that lived up to 700,000 years ago. He suggests that the Sima de los Huesos hominins could represent a founder population that once lived all over Eurasia and gave rise to the two groups. Both may have then carried the mitochondrial sequence seen in the caves. But these mitochondrial lineages go extinct whenever a female does not give birth to a daughter, so the Neanderthals could have simply lost that sequence while it lived on in Denisovan women.

A research uninvolved with this particular study, Chris Stringer, a palaeontologist at London's Natural History Museum, has a different, but equally intriguing, interpretation:

He thinks that the newly decoded mitochondrial genome may have come from another distinct group of hominins. Not far from the caves, researchers have discovered hominin bones from about 800,000 years ago that have been attributed to an archaic hominin called Homo antecessor, thought to be a European descendant of Homo erectus. Stringer proposes that this species interbred with a population that was ancestral to both Denisovans and Sima de los Huesos hominins, introducing the newly decoded mitochondrial lineage to both populations.

This scenario, Stringer says, explains another oddity thrown up by the sequencing of ancient hominin DNA. As part of a widely discussed and soon-to-be-released analysis of high-quality Denisovan and Neanderthal nuclear genomes, Pääbo’s team suggests that Denisovans seem to have interbred with a mysterious hominin group.

If Pääb's team can uncover nuclear DNA from the bone (a daunting task) then we may have answers to these new mysteries. Read the full article at Scientific American.

The Genius of Mozart

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Over two hundred years since his death, Mozart is remembered as - among other things - the greatest child prodigy the world has ever seen. David Shenk writes:

Standing above all other giftedness legends, of course, [is] that of the mystifying boy genius Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, alleged to be an instant master performer at age three and a brilliant composer at age five. His breathtaking musical gifts were said to have sprouted from nowhere, and his own father promoted him as the 'miracle which God let be born in Salzburg.

But was the genius of Mozart a gift bestowed upon him by the divine or pure chance? Or was it the product of the efforts of a hardworking musician father and a boy with an enthusiasm for music?

The reality about Mozart turns out to be far more interesting and far less mysterious. His early achievements -- while very impressive, to be sure -- actually make good sense considering his extraordinary upbringing. And his later undeniable genius turns out to be a wonderful advertisement for the power of process. Mozart was bathed in music from well before his birth, and his childhood was quite unlike any other. His father, Leopold Mozart, was an intensely ambitious Austrian musician, composer, and teacher who had gained wide acclaim with the publication of the instruction book ... Treatise on the Fundamental Principles of Violin Playing. For a while, Leopold had dreamed of being a great composer himself. But on becoming a father, he began to shift his ambitions away from his own unsatisfying career and onto his children -- perhaps, in part, because his career had already hit a ceiling: he was vice-kapellmeister (assistant music director); the top spot would be unavailable for the foreseeable future....

Then came Wolfgang. Four and a half years younger than his sister, the tiny boy got everything Nannerl got -- only much earlier and even more intensively. Literally from his infancy, he was the classic younger sibling soaking up his big sister's singular passion. As soon as he was able, he sat beside her at the harpsichord and mimicked notes that she played. Wolfgang's first pings and plucks were just that. But with a fast-developing ear, deep curiosity and a tidal wave of family know-how, he was able to click into an accelerated process of development.

As Wolfgang became fascinated with playing music, his father became fascinated with his toddler son's fascination -- and was soon instructing him with an intensity that far eclipsed his efforts with Nannerl. Not only did Leopold openly give preferred attention to Wolfgang over his daughter; he also made a career-altering decision to more or less shrug off his official duties in order to build an even more promising career for his son. This was not a quixotic adventure. Leopold's calculated decision made reasonable financial sense ... Wolfgang's youth made him a potentially lucrative attraction. ... From the age of three, then, Wolfgang had an entire family driving him to excel with a powerful blend of instruction, encouragement, and constant practice. He was expected to be the pride and financial engine of the family, and he did not disappoint. In his performances from London to Mannheim between the ages of six and eight, he drew good receipts and high praise from noble patrons. ...

Still, like his sister, the young Mozart was never a truly great adult-level instrumentalist. He was highly advanced for his age, but not compared with skillful adult performers. The tiny Mozart dazzled royalty and was at the time unusual for his early abilities. But today many young children exposed to Suzuki and other rigorous musical programs play as well as the young Mozart did -- and some play even better. Inside the world of these intensive, child-centered programs, such achievements are now straightforwardly regarded by parents and teachers for what they are: the combined consequence of early exposure, exceptional instruction, constant practice, family nurturance, and a child's intense will to learn. Like a brilliant soufflé, all of these ingredients must be present in just the right quantity and mixed with just the right timing and flair. Almost anything can go wrong. The process is far from predictable and never in anyone's complete control.

Child musical prodigies certainly aren't unheard of these days and people are quick to drool over a "new Mozart". We should remember, however, that often times these children show extraordinary ability as performers that we will never be able to compare to those of Mozart. It's quite likely that in playing abilities they are quite ahead of the Austrian legend but we will never know since he died long before the dawn of audio recording. What we do know, however, is that he was a prolific composer who poured out countless pieces before reaching maturity and, after, did not slow down but rather was able to propel the development of music. While many children may well be able to play like Mozart, few, if any, will show Mozart's innate knack for composing.

Read the original article here.

 

 

Vermeer & his photo-realism

Related to CC201's study of Rembrandt is the mysterious work of Johannes Vermeer, another painter of the Dutch Golden Age. His photo-realism has been a topic of debate - how did he achieve it? Vanity Fair offers some recent speculation. Here is a sample:

Despite occasional speculation over the years that an optical device somehow enabled Vermeer to paint his pictures, the art-history establishment has remained adamant in its romantic conviction: maybe he was inspired somehow by lens-projected images, but his only exceptional tool for making art was his astounding eye, his otherworldly genius.

Left, Tim Jenison, with part of the optical apparatus he created above him, at work in his San Antonio studio. Right, Vermeer’s The Music Lesson, the painting Jenison chose to re-create.

Left, Tim Jenison, with part of the optical apparatus he created above him, at work in his San Antonio studio. Right, Vermeer’s The Music Lesson, the painting Jenison chose to re-create.

At the beginning of this century, however, two experts of high standing begged to differ. Why, for instance, did Vermeer paint things in the foreground and shiny highlights on objects slightly out of focus? Because, they say, he was looking at them through a lens. By itself, Vermeer’s Camera: Uncovering the Truth Behind the Masterpieces, by a London architecture professor named Philip Steadman, might have stirred a minor academic fuss. But a mainstream controversy was provoked—conferences, headlines, outrage, name-calling—because a second, more sweeping and provocative argument was made by one of the most famous living painters, David Hockney. Hockney argued in Secret Knowledge: Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of Old Masters that not only Vermeer but many great painters from the 15th century onward must have secretly used lens-and-mirror contraptions to achieve their photo-realistic effects.
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The crux of the resistance to the idea that Vermeer invented and used an optical device, beyond technical and historiographic issues, is that it diminishes our sense of Vermeer’s genius. But great artists in every age use clever new tools and technologies. You could give all the digital contraptions Alfonso Cuarón used on Gravity to a hack director and he’d make a crappy movie. Pro Tools software doesn’t turn a mediocre musician into a great one, but great ones depend on it. Chuck Close bases paintings on photographs and uses a mechanical lift to move his enormous canvases around as he works on them. As Jenison says of the history of art, “perspective is an algorithm, a ‘device’” invented in the 15th century to paint more realistic illusions.

For the full article, visit Vanity Fair.

Reviewing the Old Testament


Ridley Scott is known for creating epic films. Gladiator, Blade Runner, Alien. His films leave the viewers exhausted after dragging them through hours of emotional barbed wire. Try watching Rutger Hauer's death without feeling empty inside. You, like him, will die, and everything will be lost. It's very sad.
Thank goodness Scott's new project won't be so....Oh wait. The story of Moses? We'll get the tissues.
This seems like a big project too. Just look at some rumors about the cast list in this short article. Christian Bale? John Turtorro. As the article says, that's a pretty white cast for a movie set in Egypt. Ah well; we're getting used to racial inaccuracies in cinema. It happens. We suppose all you can do in the end is listen to Prince of Egypt songs. Not so bad really.
Here's one
and here
and in case you haven't cried in a while

Fun Fact for Saturday


All of us at the Core office have our little thing that is just sooooo annoying we can't even stand it. For some of us, it's the inherent sexism behind a guy holding a door open for a girl; for some it's using who instead of whom, and for some it's someone not having read The Iliad. To Dr. George Walken, the annoyance is a little more wide-spread. In a new paper, Walken claims that the translation of the first word of "Beowulf", frequently translated as an exclamation like "Listen!" or "Indeed!" or "Attend" should instead be understood as: “How we have heard of the might of the kings” as this article states.
Perhaps previous translators should have perhaps considered the translation of that first word within the context of the rest of the sentence.
But anyway! enjoy your Saturday.

Notes from the November 2013 EnCore Book Club: Frankenstein

Big turn-out this month: EnCore book club members met to discuss the much-beloved Gothic novel Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus, written by Mary Shelley.

The discussion began with the novel's framing device. The story begins with an exchange of letters between Captain Robert Walton and his sister. The captain, on an expedition to the North Pole, meets with Victor Frankenstein, a broken man on a journey to destroy a creature he brought to life using unspeakable secrets of science. The rest should be familiar to many readers/horror fans. These opening letters are a Gothic device meant to give a veneer of plausibility to otherwise extraordinary events.

Attendees discussed the Romantic influences at work in the story: the majesty of nature and its terrifying power, the consequences of stepping beyond the bounds of human ability, and the inevitable comeuppance that will follow he who does not know his limits.

"Why do we like the Gothic? Why do we like scary things?" "Cos our lives don't have danger anymore." "Have you SEEN the MBTA?"

We also discussed why we enjoy works that make us afraid, make us feel revulsion, make us weep. Is it because we no longer fear for our lives on a regular basis, and we are searching for a stimulus? What is more fearful: explicit gore, or what our imagination produces? The violence in Frankenstein is much more muted than that which 21st century horror films often provide for us. Is what we're afraid of so different from what terrorized the Victorians?

We can all agree that what is truly terrifying is not the creature's crimes, but rather Victor's inability to empathize with the living being he has created. The creature has feelings, language, can walk...who is truly the inhuman one?

In his attempt to stop death, Victor succeeds in producing life, but what a life.

"There is a serious birth control message in this book."

Hilarious, but true: the novel clearly warns against producing life in non-Christian-sanctioned ways, and the Bride of Frankenstein never comes to be due to Victor's fear the two monsters will choose to populate the world with horrid spawn. Clearly, Victorian men know best how to control women's bodies.

The themes of dehumanization and defilement are manifold. Perhaps this explains why, in the incredibly popular UK National Theatre stage adaptation of the play, directed by Danny Boyle, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller alternating in the scientist/monster roles, Elizabeth, Victor's bride-to-be, is not only murdered by the creature, but is also raped. He defiles and destroys her as completely as Victor desecrates and destroys his second creation.

Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller alternating roles in Frankenstein.

In the end, it is hard to say who exactly is the monster. It must be no coincidence most people erroneously believe the creature's name is Frankenstein.

Sorry you missed out on the discussion? Join us at our next meeting: on December 4th, we will be meeting in the Core office to discuss J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. If you are of age, BYOB, and there will be free food for all!

Memorable Quotes from the evening:

"Who has done that? Who has put organs together to make a live thing?" "I have!"

[In discussing the onstage violence in King Lear] "When your eye is being plucked out, I'm sure you'd be smelling his hand and thinking 'That  guy uses Dial.'"

Best line of the evening? Core's new motto, in light of Victor's attempt to have a more, shall we say, complete education:

"Read the books. Come to class. Don't destroy mankind."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Political Vonnegut


Good morning, scholars! How're you feeling? Has the second round of midterms got you down? Finals seeming close? Excited to go home for Thanksgiving? We are. You're doing well? Haven't given up yet we see. Good. Let's talk about war.
To be more specific, Kurt Vonnegut's short yet humorous, in the sick way only Vonnegut can be, essay on War-Preparation Addicts. In his own words: I now wish to call attention to another form of addiction, which has not been previously identified. It is more like gambling than drinking, since the people afflicted are ravenous for situations that will cause their bodies to release exciting chemicals into their bloodstreams. I am persuaded that there are among us people who are tragically hooked on preparations for war.
It has been an incredibly bloody century. Well, over a century now. Two world wars, a cold war, Vietnam, Korea, Cuba, Iraq, Afghanistan. And those are just the ones that affect the US. Ask a Rwandan how their 1900s went and you'll get a whole different list. The whole world seems to be fighting, blowing each other up.
Which of course has very little to do with Vonnegut's essay. It's just necessary to get you in the mood for this:
And please understand that the addiction I have identified is to preparations for war. I repeat: to preparations for war, addiction to the thrills of de-mothballing battleships and inventing weapons systems against which there cannot possibly be a defense, supposedly, and urging the citizenry to hate this part of humanity or that one, and knocking over little governments that might aid and abet an enemy someday, and so on. I am not talking about an addiction to war itself, which is a very different matter. A compulsive preparer for war wants to go to big-time war no more than an alcoholic stockbroker wants to pass out with his head in a toilet In the Port Authority bus terminal.
Yeah, obviously this essay was written during the Cold War, a time when the arms race, the space race, the race to be the country with the biggest, the most, the baddest bombs was the number one focus of governments the world over, but we at Core think that it's always bad to forget the warnings and grievances of the past. It seems apt to recall the frustrations of some of the brightest American minds when it comes to governments that didn't seem much interested with the needs of their people. Governments with their own, unfathomable agenda. Perhaps we still can relate to that.
But whether this makes you chuckle or frown, cry or laugh, you have to admit, Vonnegut is a great writer; it's about time someone published his newspaper work. So which ever way you're leaning, you'll still enjoy the read. Let us know your thoughts below and have a great day!