Here’s an amazing TV commercial for Levi’s Jeans starring…. Walt Whitman!

Yes, that’s his actual voice reading the 1888 poem America in this video poem/commercial.  Here’s another video poem for Whitman’s Pioneers from Leaves of Grass..this time read by actor Will Greer. (These pieces are directed by M. Blash of the ad agency Wieden & Kennedy).

Aja Gabel comments:

When I watch the commercials, I am convinced that I am the mistress of my own fate. I’m just not sure if I’m okay with that fate being sold to me for $40 a pair by a man who worked nearly his entire life to eschew the mainstream. If Whitman wore jeans, he wore them because they were the clothes of the rebellious, not because they were the affordable uniform of the pretty.

I’m actually all for corporations co-opting public domain images and sounds and stories. It’s good to have a lifeline to previous eras, good to see a contemporary rendering of an early poem. Perhaps it would be better if videographers did these kinds of reworking outside of ads  (so we don’t have to spend so much time guessing at the video’s hidden agenda).  What next – Emily Dickinson being used to sell deodorant?

Charles Dickens on electronic communication:

O, what a thing it is, in a time of danger and in the presence of death, the shining of a face upon a face! I have heard it broached that orders should be given in great new ships by electric telegraph. I admire machinery as much is any man, and am as thankful to it as any man can be for what it does for us. But it will never be a substitute for the face of a man, with his soul in it, encouraging another man to be brave and true. Never try it for that. It will break down like a straw.

(“The Wreck of the Golden Mary, 1856).

You may not know about Fred Ross, but he is chairman of the Art Renewal Center, a leading online museum that stores high quality paintings. It is a treasure trove for people looking for public domain paintings.

Here’s his take on Bouguereau:

In October 1977, I walked into the Clark Museum, Williamstown, Mass. to see their thirty Renoirs, and after leaving the Renoir galleries walked out into a major hall, at the end of which was a painting that grabbed me body and soul. It was a life-size painting of four water nymphs playfully dragging a mythological satyr into a lake against his will. Frozen in place, gawking with my mouth agape, cold chills careening up and down my spine; I was virtually gripped as if by a spell that had been cast. It was so alive, so beautiful and so compelling. Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes of soaking up wave after wave of artistic and spiritual ecstasy, I started to take back control of my consciousness…..my mind started racing with unanswered questions. My first thought was “I haven’t felt this way about a work of art since I stood before Michelangelo’s David. Then I thought, “This must be one of the greatest old master paintings every produced. But no name or country or time would come to mind. Italian High Renaissance, 17th Century Dutch, Carravaggio, Fragonard, Ingres, Prud’hon … back further perhaps … Raphael, Botticelli, Leonardo, no! No! NO! Not one of those names or times felt anything like what I was looking at.

Then I approached the painting more closely, and saw the name mispronouncing it as Bouguereau at the bottom, and the date 1873 — 1873?

How was that possible? I’d learned that the greatest artists at that time were, Manet, Corot, Courbet, and Renoir … that the techniques and greatness of the Old Masters had died out, and that nobody knew how to do anything remotely this great by the 1870’s.

Years of undergraduate courses and another sixty credits post graduate in art, attaining my master’s degree from Columbia University, and I had never heard that name. Who was he? Was he important? How could he not be important? Anyone who could have done this must surely be deserving of the highest accolades in the art world.

…

Before I saw Bouguereau’s Nymphs and Satyr, I thought that the methods and techniques of the great Old Masters had somehow been lost over time accidentally. It never had occurred to me for two seconds, that people would actually have deliberately destroyed all of the institutions and methods by which the knowledge could be gained of how to create great works of art. This is one of mankind’s greatest achievements … one of the defining characteristics of advanced civilization … a skill that makes us so unique, so sophisticated and so special. We are talking about the great arts of drawing, painting and sculpture, through which it’s possible to express our shared humanity, including all of the universal, profound, complex and subtle emotions of what that means: our hopes and dreams, our fears and fantasies, our jealousy, and joys, our grief, loneliness, expectation, insecurity, intrigue, and compassion,

This is what art is really for; whether in theatre, in music, in literature, in sculpture, or in painting. Not the modernist cry of, “art for art’s sake,” or the modernist’s belief that it is the duty of the artist to be honest and “prove that the canvas is flat”. Any three-year-old knows that the canvas is flat! It is making the canvas come to life with reality and meaning that is the accomplishment. And these skills and humanistic values became precisely what the theories of modernism decided to attack and label as uncreative, confining and sentimental. They called great skill obsession with technique and worthless. They called story telling and the use of universal symbols as boring and repetitive. Realizing this we see that modernism didn’t attack academic art. It attacked art itself. All art was without value, because the essence of what art is, the communication of our common humanity, was banished. And all this destruction was supported by journalistic art criticism, which was also held hostage by the same insanity. No longer was art allowed to use any of the parameters by which we can seek universal concepts and communicate with each other. Art was to only be about art and to be continuously novel for the sake of novelty. Not only did this create “empty art” it created quick and easily available products for sale at high prices. Now there is a huge establishment invested both philosophically and financially in this dead-end art…in such “work” as canvases using excrement and empty rooms with the light blinking on and off. In case any of you think I’m making that up, just such a room was the winner of the most prestigious award given out each year in Great Britain, the Turner Prize.

Let’s go back now to look at what a collector looks for before making an acquisition. The answer is that every collector is different and has different motivation from every other collector. For me, I look for works that deal with some of the most compelling moments during life, and then harmonize this theme with superlative technique making the canvas come to life. Normally the best way to do this is with illustration or storytelling of some degree.

(Ross later reports that Degas and Monet, when asked to give their opinion about which artist would be considered the greatest French  artist of the 19th century, said Bouguereau. (This reminds me of Marilyn Von Savant’s guess in a column that a century from now Norman Rockwell would be considered the greatest American artist–a daring prediction indeed).  Another fan is Mardescortesbaja who tries to explain the appeal of the aesthetic:

And so one has the utter strangeness of Bouguereau — decidedly corporeal figures hovering above the ground, mythological figures with the sex appeal of naughty photographic postcards, because they seem to represent actual naked men and women with unimpeachable authority.  Some people find Bouguereau’s nudes pornographic, and on one level they are.  Bouguereau has used his virtuosic technique to portray these naked men and women as though they were real people recorded by a camera, not visions transmitted through an artistic sensibility.  They have that hint of indecency, of violation, that always attaches in some measure to photographs of naked people.

This not something to object to — it’s what makes Bouguereau cool, exciting, new, radical.  It’s why his paintings are still alive for people today, objects that rivet the attention, whatever judgment the mind may be passing on them as works of art.  How much more complicated, courageous, inventive, witty was Bouguereau’s response to the photograph than that of the modernist rebels who simply walked away from it, turned to abstraction in defiance of the photograph’s power.

That power has not diminished over time — indeed much of our conception of the world we live in today is determined, overdetermined, by the photograph.  Which is why on some level Bouguereau speaks to us more deeply than the abstractionists do.  Bouguereau draws us into that same dialogue with the photograph that he himself conducted, and in transcending its power — by seeming to carry it farther than it can ever actually go, even in the age of Photoshop — he places it in a truer perspective than the modernists could ever have conceived.

A distinguished museum director has observed how difficult it is to hang Bouguereau in a modern museum — discerning a disconnect not only between Bouguereau and 20th-Century modernism but also between Bouguereau and the great high-art tradition his work seems to inhabit.  That is precisely because Bouguereau’s work strove for a transcendent synthesis of painting and photography — something no art before him could have done and no institutionally-sanctioned art after him has chosen to do.  His work is thus profoundly modern, more genuinely modern in some ways than the work of the 20th-Century abstractionists.  It may be, in fact, that Bouguereau is so modern, so radical, that for some time to come he will need a room all to himself.

The Nymphs and Satyr painting is something we talked about in high school art history class as “bad art”, so clearly Fred Ross is onto something. A painting is a spectacle. I recalled that last year when I walked into an amazing display of John Singer-Sargent murals at the Boston museum.  I was particularly struck by the provocative sensuality of Atlas and the Hesperides (which is probably NSFW though it’s in public view in Boston). Sargent is a first rate artist of great subtlety (see this painting if you don’t believe me), but he knew how to grab attention in a public place. Maybe visual displays of mythological poses imbue us not only with a sense of Platonic beauty but also how individuals from history can be conjured up by  skilled hands. Today, unfortunately, eye-catching things seem to be commonplace, mainly the result of Internet sharing and thousands (if not millions) of amateur photographers capturing beautiful moments from life. Prior to photography, painting instructed as well as beautified.

I collect public domain paintings for my ebook projects. (see my tips on how to find public domain paintings–). I look for thematically interesting paintings, and although I’ve wanted to include a  Bouguereau, many of his paintings are either too lavish, too famous or not appropriate as an illustration to a story. Here are some places I go to browse for interesting paintings:

• Mardescortesbaja has some good finds from 19th and 20th century art, as well as lots of intelligent analysis about 20th century mediums like comics and film. A feast for the eyes!
• Good Art, an inactive blog by Brian Yoder.
• Olechko, a blog dedicated to artwork and photos of a Ukrainian friend, Ohla Pryymak. She also hangs out with a lot of Ukrainian artists and takes photos of artwork by artists she enjoys(I’m sure there are several thousand other art blogs out there. Take your pick). Ironically although I knew Ohla fairly well while teaching in Ukraine, I never for a moment suspected she was an artist. (Here’s a photo of her and me at her family’s dacha–how can you not be a painter when you live in surroundings like that?!) She likes taking photos of everyday life in Ukraine: the streets, the people, the objects.
• some art lovers chat about what is the greatest painting of all time 
• All Art has a good small gallery.

Gosh, I have made a post about paintings without giving any kind of illustration. Alas. Here are some paintings  by Ohla. Because I’m too lazy to reduce image size, I’m only including one painting above the fold. Press Read the Rest of this Entry under the pomegranate to see the other drawings  (including one of Lviv, the most beautiful city in the world)

Randomly came across this painting by Phillip H. Calderon (Died 1937). A commenter says: “In this typical family scene, so popular with the Victorians, young Hamlet rides on the back of Yorick, with Gertrude sitting near by. Can we imagine that the woman holding the child is the wife of Polonius with her baby Ophelia?”

(Philip H. Calderon. The Young Lord Hamlet, 1868.)

Gosh, I’ve been reading some great stuff recently.

1. Truth Book by Joy Castro. Poetic memoir about her turbulent childhood. Written by college friend. I’ll post a review later.
2. Solomon Scandals (unpublished) by David Rothman. Unpublished political intrigue novel by Teleread editor.
3. Information Architecture for the WWW by Peter Morville and Louis Rosenfeld. Earlier editions were great; I am enjoying this version as well.
4. Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. My reading was rudely interrupted by the breaking of my ebookwise ebook reader. I want an ebook device…and I want it bad!
5. If on a Winter’s Day a Traveler by Italo Calvino. Second time. As delightful as I remembered it.
6. Chinese Ghost Stories for Adults by P’u Sung-Ling (tr. Tom Ma). Great lusty stories.
7. What Video Games have to teach us about learning and literacy by James Paul Gee. Interestingly, this famous book has a lot of insights into reading as well.
8. Memoirs of the Great and the Good by Alistair Cooke. Can’t get enough of these droll portrait essays. Love the one about Wodehouse!
9. Flowering Tree and other Oral Tales of India by A.K. Ramanujan Great lusty stories (in India)

Now let me throw a few other things out.

I was ecstatic to hear that NYU Press was publishing a new series of Sanskrit Literature in Translation books (I heard it via literary saloon) . Amazingly though, almost none of the titles from the series (called Clay Sanskrit Library series) has been reviewed anywhere. I know it’s obscure, but not that obscure! (It’s not as if we’re talking about Malayam literature or Albanian literature!). Not complete review, not amazon.com, not anywhere. So I wrote to NYU for review copies, and I’ll certainly be posting some reviews of these titles soon.

Also, public domain-wise, I’ve been picking up some great recommendations. No, I haven’t started reading yet. Can’t remember if I already blogged about Our Nig by Harriet Wilson. This was the earliest recorded novel by an African-American randomly discovered by Henry Louis Gates.

From ficbot, I learned a little about John Kendrick Bangs, a little known but widely praised experimental writer from the 19th writer who was always doing these narrative tricks. His book A Houseboat on the River Styx apparently started a whole new literary genre, Bangsian fantasy which takes place almost entirely in the afterlife. I might try it sometime.

From Michael Blowhard, I have some Chesterton recommendations, including Man who was Thursday. Writers like Chesterton and Bangs or Max Beerbohm aren’t considered first tier writers, but the Project Gutenberg revolution widens our view of what constitutes notability (and causes us to reassess many works easily passed over). Consider the case of Lafcadio Hearn whose reputation I predict will only increase with time.

Here’s another piece by Cory Doctorow on the publishing industry and google. Familiar stuff to those already aquainted with his writings on copyright, but he finishes the essay with a point about the social aspects of books:

This pincer movement is gradually squeezing books out of the lives of much of the traditional audience for books: people don’t need books to meet each other anymore, and books aren’t the best way to kill time anymore.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the number of retail outlets for books has also dwindled away. Mall and main-street bookstores have all but vanished; drug-stores and grocery stories have eliminated or downsized their book sections. What that means is that the only time you come across a book these days is when you go looking for one: when you specifically plan a trip to a big-box bookseller or a distant specialty store. That’s fine: people who are already interested in buying books can go to a giant Borders or login to Amazon and get more selection than every before.

This raises a question: how or why would ebooks have this same social aspect (aside from bookclubs, which so far haven’t really glommed onto ebooks)? Blogs and wikis can serve as a kind of intermediary discourse between author and audience (and Thoutreader has also tried to interleave ebook text with public commentaries). But let’s be honest. Usually a work receives renewed public attention only after it is first adapted into a movie or some silly Flash cartoon.

Perhaps we should ignore the social questions and simply focus on clandestine just-in-time entertainment possibilities ebooks can offer. Whenever I pick up a public domain work, I sometimes wonder, “Am I the only person on the planet who has even heard of this work?” Reading long forgotten classics turns attention away from today and towards a world that will never again be. Everyone has their own reasons for reading, but for me, it provides a way to discover new modes of living and compare the human predicament in different time periods. Now that living authors are venturing into virtual gaming worlds , it is only a matter of time before classic authors are recreated into game characters and their imaginary worlds are finally realized by fans many centuries later.

(Originally published on teleread ).

Many readers have heard of Frank Stockton’s famous story, The Lady or the Tiger. But very few have heard of the sequel which I am reprinting in full here. The Discourager of Hesitancy
(A continuation of “The Lady, or the Tiger?”)

It was nearly a year after the occurrence of that event in the arena of the semibarbaric king known as the incident of the lady or the tiger, that there came to the palace of this monarch a deputation of five strangers from a far country. These men, of venerable and dignified aspect and demeanour, were received by a high officer of the court, and to him they made known their errand.

“Most noble officer,” said the speaker of the deputation, “it so happened that one of our countrymen was present here, in your capital city, on that momentous occasion when a young man who had dared to aspire to the hand of your king’s daughter had been placed in the arena, in the midst of the assembled multitude, and ordered to open one of two doors, not knowing whether a ferocious tiger would spring out upon him, or a beauteous lady would advance, ready to become his bride. Our fellow citizen who was then present was a man of supersensitive feelings, and at the moment when the youth was about to open the door he was so fearful lest he should behold a horrible spectacle that his nerves failed him, and he fled precipitately from the arena, and, mounting his camel, rode homeward as fast as he could go.”

“We were all very much interested in the story which our countrymen told us, and we were extremely sorry that he did not wait to see the end of the affair. We hoped, however, that in a few weeks some traveller from your city would come among us and bring us further news, but up to that day when we left our country no such traveller had arrived. As last it was determined that the only thing to be done was to send a deputation to this country, and to ask the question: ‘Which came out of the open door, the lady or the tiger?’”

When the high officer had heard the mission of this most respectable deputation, he led the five strangers into an inner room, where they were seated upon soft cushions, and where he ordered coffee, pipes, sherbet, and other semibarbaric refreshments to be served to them. Then, taking his seat before them, he thus addressed the visitors.

“Most noble strangers, before answering the question you have come so far to ask, I will relate to you an incident which occurred not very long after that to which you have referred. It is well known in all regions hereabout that our great king is very fond of the presence of beautiful women about his court. All the ladies in waiting upon the queen and royal family are most lovely maidens, brought here from every part of the kingdom. The fame of this concourse of beauty, unequalled in any other royal court, has spread far and wide, and had it not been for the equally wide spread fame of the systems of impetuous justice adopted by our king, many foreigners would doubtless have visited our court.”

“But not very long ago there arrived here from a distant land a prince of distinguished appearance and undoubted rank. To such a one, of course, a royal audience was granted, and our king met him very graciously, and begged him to make known the object of his visit. Thereupon the prince informed his Royal Highness that, having heard of the superior beauty of the ladies of his court, he had come to ask permission to make one of them his wife.”

“When our king heard this bold announcement, his face reddened, he turned uneasily on his throne, and we were all in dread lest some quick words of furious condemnation should leap from out his quivering lips. But by a mighty effort he controlled himself, and after a moment’s silence he turned to the prince and said: ‘Your request is granted. Tomorrow at noon you shall wed one of the fairest damsels of our court.’ Then turning to his officers he said: ‘Give orders that everything be prepared for a wedding in the palace at high noon tomorrow. Convey this royal prince to suitable apartments. Send to him tailors, bootmakers, hatters, jewellers, armorers, men of every craft whose services he may need. Whatever he asks, provide. And let all be ready for the ceremony tomorrow.’”

” ‘But, your Majesty,’ exclaimed the prince, ‘before we make these preparations, I would like -’

” ‘Say no more!’ roared the king. ‘My royal orders have been given, and nothing more is needed to be said. You asked a boon. I granted it, and I will hear no more on the subject. Farewell, my prince, until tomorrow noon.’”

“At this the king arose and left the audience chamber, while the prince was hurried away to the apartments selected for him. Here came to him tailors, hatters, jewellers, and every one who was needed to fit him out in grand attire for the wedding. But the mind of the prince was much troubled and perplexed.”

” ‘I do nut understand,’ he said to his attendants, ‘this precipitancy of action. When am I to see the ladies, that I may choose among them? I wish opportunity, not only to gaze upon their forms and faces, but to become acquainted with their relative intellectual development.’”

” ‘We can tell you nothing,’ was the answer. ‘What our king thinks right, that will he do. More than this we know not.’”

” ‘His Majesty’s notions seem to be very peculiar,’ said the prince, ‘and, so far as I can see, they do not at all agree with mine.’”

“At that moment an attendant whom the prince had not noticed came and stood beside him. This was a broad shouldered man of cheery aspect, who carried, its hilt in his right hand, and its broad back resting on his broad arm, an enormous cimeter, the upturned edge of which was keen and bright as any razor. Holding this formidable weapon as tenderly as though it had been a sleeping infant, this man drew closer to the prince and bowed.”

” ‘Who are you?’ exclaimed his Highness, starting back at the sight of the frightful weapon.’”

” ‘I,’ said the other, with a courteous smile, ‘am the Discourager of Hesitancy. When the king makes known his wishes to any one, a subject or visitor, whose disposition in some little points may be supposed not wholly to coincide with that of his Majesty, I am appointed to attend him closely, that, should he think of pausing in the path of obedience to the royal will, he may look at me, and proceed.’”

“The prince looked at him, and proceeded to be measured for a coat.”

“The tailors and shoemakers and hatters worked all night, and the next morning, when everything was ready, and the hour of noon was drawing nigh, the prince again anxiously inquired of his attendants when he might expect to be introduced to the ladies.”

” ‘The king will attend to that,’ they said. ‘We know nothing of the matter.’”

” ‘Your Highness,’ aid the Discourager of Hesitancy, approaching with a courtly bow, ‘will observe the excellent quality of this edge.’ And drawing a hair from his head, he dropped it upon the upturned edge of his cimeter, upon which it was cut in two at the moment of touching.”

“The prince glanced, and turned upon his heel.”

“Now came officers to conduct him to the grand hall of the palace, in which the ceremony was to be performed. Here the prince found the king seated upon his throne, with his nobles, his courtiers, and his officers standing about him in magnificent array. The prince was led to a position in front of the king, to whom he made obeisance, and then said:

” ‘Your majesty, before I proceed further -’

“At this moment an attendant, who had approached with a long scarf of delicate silk, wound it about the lower part of the prince’s face so quickly and adroitly that he was obliged to cease speaking. Then, with wonderful dexterity, the rest of the scarf was wound around the prince’s head, so that he was completely blindfolded. Thereupon the attendant quickly made openings in the scarf over the mouth and ears, so that the prince might breathe and hear, and fastening the ends of the scarf securely, he retired.”

“The first impulse of the prince was to snatch the silken folds from his head and face, but, as he raised his hands to do so, he heard beside him the voice of the Discourager of Hesitancy, who gently whispered: ‘I am here your Highness.’ And, with a shudder, the arms of the prince fell down by his side.”

“Now before him he heard the voice of a priest, who had begun the marriage service in use in that semi-barbaric country. At his side he could hear a delicate rustle, which seemed to proceed from fabrics of soft silk. Gently putting forth his hand, he felt folds of such silk close behind him. Then came the voice of the priest requesting him to take the hand of the lady by his side; and reaching forth his right hand, the prince received within it another hand, so small, so soft, so delicately fashioned, and so delightful to the touch, that a thrill went through his being. Then, as was the custom of the country, the priest first asked the lady would she have this man to be her husband; to which the answer gently came, in the sweetest voice he had ever heard: ‘I will.”‘

“Then ran raptures rampant through the prince’s blood. The touch, the tone, enchanted him. All the ladies of that court were beautiful, the Discourager was behind him, and through his parted scarf he boldly answered: ‘Yes, I will.’”

“Whereupon the priest pronounced them man and wife.”

“Now the prince heard a little bustle about him, the long scarf was rapidly unrolled from his head, and he turned, with a start, to gaze upon his bride. To his utter amazement, there was no one there. He stood alone. Unable on the instant to ask a question or say a word, he gazed blankly about him.”

“Then the king arose from his throne, and came down, and took him by the hand.”

” ‘Where is my wife gasped the prince.’”

” ‘She is here,’ said the king, leading him to a curtained doorway at the side of the hall.”

” ‘The curtains were drawn aside, and the prince, entering, found himself in a long apartment, near the opposite wall of which stood a line of forty ladies, all dressed in rich attire, and each one apparently more beautiful than the rest.’”

“Waving his hand toward the line, the king said to the prince: “There is your bride! Approach, and lead her forth! But, remember this: that if you attempt to take away one of the unmarried damsels of our court, your execution will be instantaneous. Now, delay no longer. Step up and take your bride.’”

“The prince, as in a dream, walked slowly along the line of ladies, and then walked slowly back again. Nothing could he see about any one of them to indicate that she was more of a bride than the others. Their dresses were all similar, they all blushed, they all looked up and then looked down. They all had charming little hands. Not one spoke a word. Not one lifted a finger to make a sign. It was evident that the orders given them had been very strict.”

” ‘Why this delay?’ roared the king. ‘If I had been married this day to one so fair as the lady who wedded you, I should not wait one second to claim her.’”

“The bewildered prince walked again up and down the line. And this time there was a slight change in the countenances of two of the ladies. One of the fairest gently smiled as he passed her. Another, just as beautiful, slightly frowned.”

” ‘Now,’ said the prince to himself, ‘I am sure that it is one of those two ladies whom I have married. But which? One smiled. And would not any woman smile when she saw in such a case, her husband coming toward her? Then again, on the other hand, would not any woman from when she saw her husband come toward her and fail to claim her? Would she not knit her lovely brows? Would she not inwardly say ‘It is I! Don’t you know it? Don’t you feel it? Come!’ But if this woman had not been married, would she not frown when she saw the man looking at her? Would she not say inwardly, “Don’t stop at me! It is the next but one It is two ladies above. Go on!” Then again, the one who married me did not see my face. Would she not now smile if she thought me comely? But if I wedded the one who frowned, she could restrain her disapprobation if she did not like me? Smiles invite the approach of true love. A frown is a reproach to a tardy advance. A smile -”

” ‘Now, hear me!’ loudly cried the king. ‘In ten seconds, if you do not take the lady we have given you, she who has just been made your bride shall be made your widow.’”

“And, as the last word was uttered, the Discourager of? Hesitancy stepped close behind the prince and whispered: ‘I am here!’”

“Now the prince could not hesitate an instant; he stepped forward and took one of the two ladies by the hand.”

“Loud rang the bells, loud cheered the people, and the king came forward to congratulate the prince. He had taken his lawful bride.”

” ‘Now, then,” said the officer to the deputation of five strangers from a far country, “when you can decide among yourselves which lady the prince chose, the one who smiled or the one who frowned, then I will tell you which came out of the open door, the lady or the tiger!”

At the latest accounts the five strangers had not yet decided.

Frank Stockton (1834-1902)
as appeared in ‘The Lady or the Tiger and other stories by Frank Stockton’ Tom Doherty Associates, Inc., New York, 1992.

Series of articles on the public domain. Will read and comment later.

Brevity has another issue of creative nonfiction out. This is one of my fave litmags, and yet I hate reading it on a PC. Dinty Moore specializes in short forms, and today I bought his Accidental Buddhist.

BTW, if you’re ever in the mood for a wonderful gift present for a somewhat literary friend, buy Three Minutes or Less: Life Lessons from America’s Greatest Writers, by Pen Faulkner Foundation. Each chapter is a 2 or 3 page story told by a respected American writer. Right now on Amazon.com for $2!

Houston-born jazz singer Sippie Wallace’s 1927 song, Flood Water Blues (Real Media) was about the Mississippi River flood of 1927. Bluesy, heartbreaking, certainly worth remembering on this day. In the meantime, Terry Teachout wonders aloud about the safety of jazz archives in New Orleans:

A question to anyone in the New Orleans area who is familiar with the situation on the ground: is anything known about the condition of the Hogan Archive at Tulane University? This is one of the most important collections of primary-source jazz documentation in the world, and I’m starting to get questions about it from scholars. Has it survived the flood, and if so, in what condition?

For those wanting to remember New Orleans pre-flood, it might be interesting to revisit Heidi Dylan’s amazon.com list of New Orleans-themed novels. Feel free to recommend your own books re: New Orleans (ebooks or print).

Public domain works? Well, there’s Kate Chopin’s works (with Awakening being her best loved work). She lived most of her life in New Orleans but spent the latter portion of her life in St. Louis. Surprisingly, Lafcadio Hearn (who is probably best known for his public domain ghost stories, especially Kwaidan) spent a portion of his life living in and writing about New Orleans. Amazingly, his collection of New Orleans writings called Inventing New Orleans has never been scanned by Project Gutenburg, but have no fear–with the help of WorldCat, Interlibrary Loan and my trusty scanner, I personally will see that it is done pronto! (A short Hearn piece about New Orleans Superstitions is available here. See also his New Orleans story, Chita). Update: Other public domain works: Old Creole Days by George W. Cable. Cable is a 19th century Louisiana novelist with many novels in the public domain.

In other public domain (but non-ebook news), here’s a site devoted to public domain movie torrents. Were it not for Sonny Bono Act, works from 1930 would be available (and in the 1920s, New Orleans was a hotbed for jazz creativity). As a thought experiment, imagine being able to download as a torrent file several gigs worth of 1920s public domain New Orleans jazz –legally! I spent last night listening to Louie Armstrong/Jelly Roll Morton, and looking at the list of New Orleans musicians on the redhot jazz site. Gosh, it’s easy to see just how much we’re missing in the American public domain. See King Oliver Creole Jazz Band for instance.

(posted originally at Teleread).

A few months ago I compiled a list of resources for finding public domain paintings.

The best source of high quality public domain paintings seems to be Art Resource Center. Just fantastic. Here’s some beautiful nudes by Guillaume Seignac, a French painter who died in 1924. (and very little exists on the web about this man).