A truly excellent short documentary from 53 years ago (in Russian). Highly recommended viewing. It features a bald man who perplexes a young woman with various follies. The original title is “Physics at Half Past Nine”. Tsentrnauchfilm, 1971. Scriptwriter and director: S. Raytburt. Raytburt, incidentally, received an award at the Venice International Film Festival for “The Development of Reflex Activity in Ontogeny”. It’s a shame that almost all his films are unavailable online.
Arkhip Kuindzhi (1842, Mariupol). In Russia and Ukraine, this name is probably known to everyone, but outside these countries, almost no one knows him. Meanwhile, he left a very interesting mark in history.
I remember “Moonlit Night on the Dnieper” well in the Russian Museum in St. Petersburg. It should be noted immediately that the painting has darkened significantly over time. It creates a complex impression — the colors seem almost luminescent (but they’re not). Printed reproductions, photographs, and online images fail to convey the magic of this painting. Anyone who has been to the museum and seen it with their own eyes will confirm this 🙂 What also deserves special attention is how Kuindzhi showcased the painting. The canvas was displayed in a darkened room, with walls draped in dark fabric, and it was impossible to approach the painting closely. Light was directed onto the work in such a way that it reflected off the canvas at a certain angle, making the thickest areas of paint gleam as if they were burning from within. It created the impression that the viewer was not looking at a painting but through a window.
It is curious how Kuindzhi depicts moonlit nights in other nocturnes. He does not paint the moon itself. It is located outside the canvas — behind the viewer. Although the moon itself is not visible, the light makes it clear that it is a full moon. Kuindzhi aimed to convey how moonlight reflects off different surfaces, and he succeeded in doing so.
In 1882, at the peak of his success and popularity, Arkhip secluded himself in his studio and did not allow any visitors. His further creative life became a mystery to everyone. Admirers and critics began to believe that Kuindzhi had exhausted himself. But he continued to create; he simply did not want to show his works to people. The artist’s seclusion ended in 1901, almost twenty years later, when Kuindzhi reminded everyone of his existence. He showed his students and friends four paintings, and later, other works became known as well.
I remind you that such posts are grouped under the tag #artrauflikes, and on beinginamerica.com in the “Art Rauf Likes” section, all 57 (as of now) are available (unlike on Facebook, which forgets (ignores) almost half). Very likely the posts are available on raufaliev.com as well — the migration is in progress.
Ans Debije (Netherlands). Her still life technique is impressive: from a distance, they look hyper-realistic, but up close, it’s pure impressionism. The way materials are conveyed is amazing—just one spot or brushstroke, and you can immediately tell if it’s plastic, glass, or metal. She has hundreds, maybe even thousands, of small works, and they are all simple and beautiful. Choosing the best is difficult. Check out her website — https://www.ansdebije.nl/. Brilliant!
Today I’m showcasing a very unique artist, Michael Taylor. His works remind me a bit of Lucian Freud (I should write about him separately sometime). Both artists hail from the British school. Among the paintings included, there is “Boy with an Apple,” commissioned by director Wes Anderson for his film “The Grand Budapest Hotel.” The fictional story of the portrait played a crucial role in the plot of the film, serving as a MacGuffin—a pivotal item around which the action is built. Notice that the paintings are simultaneously photorealistic and not realistic at all. This is what is known as “controlled distortion.” Very unusual and very cool.
Published a new article on Hybrismart.com. It’s about building a monitoring system for e-commerce business metrics. Things like order volume, SLA compliance for business processes, tracking the creation of new database items, etc. Come read it.
Zhaoming Wu. Predominantly paints faceless ladies adorned in complex drapery and set against contrasting light, yet he does so enchantingly that it’s hard to look away and not examine each work in detail. He also creates impressive charcoal portraits. He has a Facebook page and offers lessons. He lives in San Francisco. I remind you that similar posts are published several times a week on my blog, and there are already no fewer than 50. You can find them on beinginamerica.com by searching for a tag or in the “Art Rauf Likes” section.
There, Viktor discusses how over thousands of years, at least two scientific disciplines—astronomy and medicine—were systematically developed in Egypt. In another segment, the host asks Viktor what he would do if he had a time machine. Viktor answered that he would like to hear how the speech of a king sounded (because we do not understand how the speech of the ancient Egyptians sounded, although we are familiar with their writing).
And here’s what I thought. Indeed, given a time machine, what could we bring back from the past that would be truly useful in the present? Obviously, 100% of Egyptian astronomy is useless to us from a scientific standpoint. But it’s a different story with medicine.
The fact is that the discovery of drugs is now largely done by trial and error (scientifically called “high-throughput screening” or HTS). HTS is a process of automated testing of a large number of chemical compounds for activity against a specific biological target (often a molecule, frequently a protein). The “hits” are then analyzed, followed by many more tests on organisms, where 99% are filtered out for various reasons. And there is hope that eventually, this will lead to a working drug.
Thus, in ancient medicine, things were simpler ethics-wise, and they immediately tested on humans. Take a poisonous mushroom and feed it to the sick in the hope of curing them. If the patient died, but (hypothetically) his hair grew, then it would make sense to give half the dose to someone who needed hair. Oh, he died too. So, next time we give a quarter.
So, it is generally useful for modern medicine to look back at ancient books.
One notable example is the development of artemisinin, a drug against malaria, inspired by an ancient Chinese text. Under the leadership of Tu Youyou, the team analyzed about 2000 ancient recipes and based on 640 selected prescriptions, they produced 380 extracts, which were tested on animals. In 1971, one of these, artemisinin, showed good antimalarial properties. It was manufactured from the plant Artemisia annua, following a recipe from the third part of Ge Hong’s book “Zhouhou Beiji Fang” (“Emergency Prescriptions at an Elbow’s Reach”), dating back to AD 340. Tu Youyou and her team isolated artemisinin from the plant, which proved to be very effective against malaria. This discovery earned Tu Youyou the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 2015.
About Egypt, look it up. Viktor Solkin is very knowledgeable.
There, Viktor discusses how, over the course of thousands of years, at least two scientific disciplines — astronomy and medicine — systematically evolved in Egypt. And in another segment, the host asks Viktor what he would do if he had a time machine. Viktor answered that he would like to hear how the speech of a king sounded (because we do not know what the speech of the ancient Egyptians sounded like, though we are familiar with their writing).
And it got me thinking. Indeed, given a time machine, what could we bring back from the past that would actually be useful today? Clearly, 100% of Egyptian astronomy is scientifically useless to us now. But it’s a different story with medicine.
The fact is that the discovery of drugs nowadays largely occurs through a trial-and-error method (scientifically called “high-throughput screening” or HTS). HTS is a process of automated testing of a large number of chemical compounds for activity against a specific biological target (often a molecule, frequently a protein). Subsequently, “hits” are analyzed followed by many more tests on organisms, where 99% are filtered out for various reasons, in hopes that this eventually leads to a functioning drug.
In ancient medicine, ethical considerations were simpler, and they tested directly on humans. Let’s take a poisonous mushroom and feed it to the sick in hopes of curing them. If the patient died but, hypothetically, grew hair, then that mushroom should be given, but in half the dosage, to someone who needs hair growth. Oh, he died too. Next time, we give a quarter.
Thus, it’s generally beneficial for modern medicine to look into ancient books.
One notable example is the development of artemisinin, an anti-malarial drug, inspired by an ancient Chinese text. Led by Tu Youyou, the team analyzed about 2000 ancient recipes and from 640 selected prescriptions, they produced 380 extracts tested on animals. In 1971, one of these, artemisinin, was found to have good anti-malarial properties. It was derived from sweet wormwood (Artemisia annua), based on a recipe from the third part of Ge Hong’s book “Zhouhou Beiji Fang” (“Emergency Formulae at an Elbow’s Length”), dated to AD 340. Tu Youyou and her team isolated artemisinin from the wormwood, which proved to be very effective against malaria. This discovery earned Tu Youyou the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 2015.
And about Egypt, do watch. Viktor Solkin is very knowledgeable.
Hi, I'm Rauf Aliev. 