Today, I was reading about dissonances and decided to see if there are any compositions where dissonances are deliberately used as the main material. And I stumbled upon György Ligeti’s Atmosphères.
Listen, it’s very unusual and hardly resembles music at all. He used something called micropolyphony, creating dense webs of chromatic notes moving at different speeds and at various distances from each other.
If you feel like you don’t understand such music and don’t find this assembly of sounds beautiful, imagine instead of an orchestra playing it with solemn faces, a Stanley Kubrick film, for example. Suddenly, everything falls into place.
About a week ago, when I watched The Shining, the first thing I texted a friend was, “Notice that there’s no music in the film,” to which he replied that there is, but it’s so well made and integrated that you don’t notice it. Actually, The Shining has a very cool soundtrack, very well-selected.
So, specifically, this composition Atmosphères (as well as parts of Lux Aeterna, Requiem, and Aventures) was used by Kubrick in his 2001: A Space Odyssey. Another piece, Lontano, was used in The Shining. And Musica ricercata was used in Eyes Wide Shut. By the way, Musica ricercata is quite good; I’ll drop a link in the comments.
I’ve closed another gestalt with the iconic Hitchcock noir—watched the movie “Vertigo” (Vertigo) by Alfred Hitchcock from 1958.
Initially, this film did not inspire much enthusiasm among either viewers or critics. It didn’t become the director’s highest-grossing or most famous film and at the Oscars, it only received two nominations in technical categories—for best sound and best art direction. However, over time its influence and significance greatly increased, and the film itself gained a multitude of interpretations—from Freudian to postmodern. Eventually, it sort of came to be considered the best film of all time and the best detective movie.
Here, Hitchcock flips expectations by killing the main heroine in the first half of the movie and the detective reveal is not at the end, but in the middle—in Madeleine’s letter. The producers argued with Hitchcock over this, but he insisted: the audience needs to know more than Scottie. It’s necessary to create suspense.
Last week, I finally got around to watching Kubrick’s “The Shining” (1980). Turns out, I hadn’t watched it back then either. So, I’m catching up!
If, like me, you’ve missed out on either of these two—make sure you find the time!
John Falter’s father once told his son that he would never become an artist until he published a cover for The Saturday Evening Post. John Falter did it 122 times.
For me, the difference between an illustration and a full-fledged painting is like the difference between a TV series and a film. Think about how such illustrations were created in the first half of the 20th century. Just imagine: all these works were done in just a couple of weeks, maybe three. There wasn’t much more time—after all, they were illustrating current events. He would create a large drawing, around 30×40 inches, which was then photographed and converted to CMYK. The artist had to understand well what would inevitably be lost in this process and what, on the contrary, might “pop”—primarily in terms of color and contrast. There was no post-correction on a computer because computers simply didn’t exist. In short, working as a magazine illustrator was a unique profession.
And these weren’t just illustrations for stories—they were also illustrations as stories. An artist can convey a lot through details, the style of the drawing—essentially, through what’s “between the lines.” If you look closely, his paintings are full of such messages.
Similar posts are grouped under the tag #artrauflikes, and on beinginamerica.com in the “Art Rauf Likes” section, you can find all 143 (unlike Facebook, which forgets—or rather, ignores—almost half of them).
Thank you to everyone who showed concern, called, and texted from the morning to check if we were all alright. Thankfully, we are fine.
The plane was carrying athletes returning from a training camp in Wichita for top junior, intermediate, and novice figure skaters, coming back from the World Championship. Yes, some of them were known to Nadya and Masha, and a few were close friends. In total, 14 people related to the ice-skating community perished, and tragically, all 64 people on board died.
Six members of the US figure skating team on that ill-fated flight were affiliated with the Boston Figure Skating Club. Skater Spencer Lane, his mother Molly, skater Gina Han and her mother Jean, as well as coaches Evgenia Shishkova and Vadim Naumov were on board. Nadya and Masha were also closely acquainted with sisters Everly and Alidia Livingston, aged 11 and 14 respectively, and knew Inna Volyanskaya well. It is very, very sad news.
A similar tragedy occurred in 1961 when a plane carrying 18 members of the US figure skating team to the World Championships in Prague crashed during an attempt to land in Brussels. All 73 people onboard died, including the 16-year-old “Queen of American Ice,” Laurence Owen, along with her mother and coach Maribel Vinson-Owen and her older sister Maribel Owen.
Names of the deceased will be released. In the US, there is an unwritten ethical rule that the relatives of deceased individuals are notified first, followed by the media after some time.
Look at how interestingly the glass has cracked. The crack goes in a circle. Usually, on glass, cracks tend to spread towards the nearest edge because that’s where the stress can be minimal. However, in this case, it seems that the crack stopped before reaching the edge of the glass, which is quite unusual.
Unfortunately, this is already the third glass with a similar crack; in the other two, the crack indeed completed the circle. The dishwasher, which torments the glass with its temperature, is to blame for everything. The second photo shows how it was originally
Today, I am showcasing the paintings of German artist Torsten Wolber. He studied graphic design and illustration and worked as a teacher for nearly 30 years before dedicating himself entirely to oil painting in 2020. His Facebook and Instagram pages are filled with useful videos, and he offers courses, sharing his experience in every way he can (see comments)
His works blend classical portraiture, Impressionism, and expressive realism, creating a unique and instantly recognizable style.
I’ve been reading how others write about artists—what a bore! Birth dates, schools attended, influences, genres… Either it’s completely unnecessary or it’s all evident from the paintings themselves. Just show the art—no need for all the fluff. So here you go—look, enjoy.
I’ll leave links to his Facebook and Instagram in the comments.
Posts like this are grouped under #artrauflikes, and you can find all 142 of them in the “Art Rauf Likes” section on beinginamerica.com—unlike Facebook, which conveniently forgets (or ignores) almost half of them.
I finished “Theodora”. It’s a three-hour opera in a production by the Royal Opera House. About Christian saints and martyrs Theodora and Didymus, who lived in the 4th century in what’s now modern Syria. On stage – prostitutes, pole dances, a bomb, essentially, the full package.
And yes, originally it’s not an opera, but an oratorio, meaning originally on stage there is a chorus that sings for three hours, and nothing else happens. In the production, however, the oratorio is decked out like an opera, plus a bit more.
In short. The plot. Briefly. Valens, the Roman envoy, forces everyone to worship Roman gods, and threatens to execute those who refuse. Theodora, a Christian, does not comply. Her lover, Didymus, secretly converted to Christianity, tries to save her by disguising himself in her dress. In the end, Theodora surrenders to the enemies to save Didymus, and both die as martyrs for their faith. Afterwards, they were canonized by Christians in gratitude.
The oratorio is in English. That’s unusual in itself. Well.. in English. “Vouchsafe, dread Sir, a gracious ear. Lowly the matron bow’d, and bore away the prize…”. English from three hundred years ago. I understood “Carmen” in French with subtitles better. But no matter, there are translations you can hold in your hand and glance at one-eyed, plus everything happens veeery slowly there.
So, what we have here. A classic plot on a religious theme. In Katie Mitchell’s production, they decided to break all norms at once, making the oratorio into an opera and also setting it in modern times. It turned out pretty cool, actually.
Katie Mitchell situates the action in, as they called in an Alicante publication, a “Putin-like” embassy in Antioch, where rooms function as a brothel. This is the first theatre piece to involve an intimacy coordinator for sex and violence scenes (Ita O’Brien).
Valens, the Roman envoy in Antioch, wears a red sweater. He hasn’t heard of the #MeToo movement, hence the brothel accommodates “comfort women” for him and his bodyguards. They in red lingerie dance on poles in the red room (kind of a striptease; Holly Weston and Kelly Vee).
Next, we are introduced to Septimius, Valens’ head of security. His task is to ensure that all citizens publicly worship Roman gods as a sign of loyalty. Otherwise – death.
Here comes Didymus, one of the bodyguards. Didymus used to believe in Roman gods but secretly converted to Christianity. He’s in love with the Christian Theodora, the head of the household staff at the embassy.
Theodora plans an assassination attempt on Valens with a homemade explosive. They actually assemble it on stage with duct tape and some stuff.
Septimius uncovers the conspiracy and defuses the bomb. Theodora’s punishment – she becomes a “comfort woman”. For this, they dress her up as Marilyn Monroe. Oh, actually, it seems more like Louise Brooks, but never mind, they look alike.
Then the drama continues with an escape, Didymus saves Theodora, then the other way around. But ultimately, as in all operas, things end up not very well, but specifically in Mitchell’s production, good prevails over evil.
The role of Didymus is played by Jakub Józef Orliński. He has a beautiful scene where he changes into heels and a shimmering dress, in which he continues to perform until the end of the opera.
Jakub has a rather unusual voice. He is a countertenor. It’s the highest male voice. After castrati fell out of favor – quite rare. Google it, his voice is very beautiful. I’ll leave a few links in the comments.
One of the scenes towards the end reminds me of the café scene from “Pulp Fiction”.
The first performance of “Theodora” was in London, at the Royal Theatre in Covent Garden in 1750, and this production 272 years later comes from there too. Quite symbolic. True, back then it flopped – almost no audience. But now, it’s a classic.
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I was thinking this morning about how to explain what a programmer’s job interview is like. I think I came up with a great analogy. It’s as if, when hiring a cook for a cafeteria, they were asked to describe the process of protein denaturation in a chicken egg at the molecular level. When hiring a salesperson, it would be essential to know how a reduction in the refinancing rate would affect aggregate demand in the long term.
You can’t just hire a welder. He needs to know how many valence electrons are in an iron atom and be able to derive the equation for the chemical reaction during welding.
A plumber must definitely know Bernoulli’s law and be able to calculate the water flow through a pipe using the Navier-Stokes equation.
Undoubtedly, you can’t just hire a hairdresser—you need one who can explain in detail how disulfide bonds work in the structure of hair and why, on a molecular level, a perm is a crime against keratin.
A carpenter should be asked about the ideal number of hammer strikes per minute to secure a nail considering the thickness of the wood. Even if he cannot name the exact number, he must demonstrate a thought process in the right direction (towards the interviewers).
Of course, once a programmer is hired, the very first task will involve reversing a string without using built-in functions. By recursion. Right after writing a module where two 100-digit numbers are added without using the addition operation. And the result is displayed in the console, formatted like a diamond. And certainly, a Java programmer will be using volatile, transient, strictfp at least every other day.
You should hire someone whose eyes sparkle with passion, or if not, someone who, like a tank, confidently plows through to a solution. Someone who understands exactly where to hit the code with a sledgehammer to make it work and keeps duct tape in their pocket in case that doesn’t help. Someone capable of fixing a bug and explaining to the client why the bug is a “feature” and not a mistake. Someone who says “that’s an interesting problem, I’ll think about it” instead of “it’s impossible”, and is already Googling how to do it. Someone who writes patches with such inspiration that they look like part of the architecture. And most importantly — you should hire someone who isn’t afraid to ask during the interview: “Why do I need to solve problems reversing strings, when in real life I have reverse()? Like in Python s[::-1] or ”.join(reversed(s)).”
Hi, I'm Rauf Aliev. 