theatlantic:

In Defense of Instagram Selfies from Crimea

The Daily Mail was positively apoplectic. “Shocking pictures show people in Crimea taking SELFIES with Russian masked gunmen as Ukraine teeters on the brink of war,” the British tabloid yelped over the weekend. Did you catch that? SELFIES!
Others were equally astonished. “Welcome to the 21st century, where you take Instagram selfies with the guys invading your country,” a Twitter user marveled.
Putting aside one of the explanations for this stream of selfies—a substantial pro-Moscow, ethnic Russian population on the peninsula—it’s actually quite fitting that amateur and professional photographers are experimenting with new technology this week to document Russia’s occupation of the Ukrainian peninsula. A century and a half ago, Crimea served as the breeding ground for modern war photography.
Read more. [Image: Roger Fenton/anna_yurtaeva]


Speechless.

theatlantic:

In Defense of Instagram Selfies from Crimea

The Daily Mail was positively apoplectic. “Shocking pictures show people in Crimea taking SELFIES with Russian masked gunmen as Ukraine teeters on the brink of war,” the British tabloid yelped over the weekend. Did you catch that? SELFIES!

Others were equally astonished. “Welcome to the 21st century, where you take Instagram selfies with the guys invading your country,” a Twitter user marveled.

Putting aside one of the explanations for this stream of selfies—a substantial pro-Moscow, ethnic Russian population on the peninsula—it’s actually quite fitting that amateur and professional photographers are experimenting with new technology this week to document Russia’s occupation of the Ukrainian peninsula. A century and a half ago, Crimea served as the breeding ground for modern war photography.

Read more. [Image: Roger Fenton/anna_yurtaeva]

Speechless.

fuckyeahvintage-retro:

Alfred Hitchcock at the Cannes Film Festival, 1963 © Francois Gragnon

futurejournalismproject:

Beethoven, Original Punk
Via The Atlantic:

The popular image of [Beethoven] is one of heroism, severity, and backs aching for the lash as musical commandments are delivered from on high. Few works in the history of art are as bracingly intense as a goodly chunk of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, for instance, to say nothing of the late-period string quartets, music that, frankly, the 19th century wasn’t ready for. The opening four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony might as well be a stand-in for the four elements of earth, air, fire, and water, such is their uncompromising primacy. Beethoven’s work, as people tend to think of it, is music that just keeps coming at you, an ever-advancing sea that no coast can withstand.
Most of the time, that is. But there was also the occasion when Beethoven, in the midst of a personal—and odd—life crisis, opted to create a work to please madcaps, jesters, and wiseasses alike.
I’m talking about the Eighth Symphony. It’s arguably Beethoven’s most overlooked, coming as it does before the world-beating Ninth, and clocking in at a rapid 26 minutes. It was the last symphony from Beethoven’s middle period, receiving its premiere 200 years ago on February 24, 1814, in Vienna. And it is absolutely bonkers, mad, brave, cheekily pugnacious, punchy, and akin to what Lear’s Fool, Samuel Beckett, and a young Mozart might have come up with if those three ever got together to have a musical bash.

Beethoven’s 8th, 200 years old today.
Read on about his infatuation with a newly created technology called the metronome, deafness and his frustration with his brother’s love affair.

futurejournalismproject:

Beethoven, Original Punk

Via The Atlantic:

The popular image of [Beethoven] is one of heroism, severity, and backs aching for the lash as musical commandments are delivered from on high. Few works in the history of art are as bracingly intense as a goodly chunk of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, for instance, to say nothing of the late-period string quartets, music that, frankly, the 19th century wasn’t ready for. The opening four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony might as well be a stand-in for the four elements of earth, air, fire, and water, such is their uncompromising primacy. Beethoven’s work, as people tend to think of it, is music that just keeps coming at you, an ever-advancing sea that no coast can withstand.

Most of the time, that is. But there was also the occasion when Beethoven, in the midst of a personal—and odd—life crisis, opted to create a work to please madcaps, jesters, and wiseasses alike.

I’m talking about the Eighth Symphony. It’s arguably Beethoven’s most overlooked, coming as it does before the world-beating Ninth, and clocking in at a rapid 26 minutes. It was the last symphony from Beethoven’s middle period, receiving its premiere 200 years ago on February 24, 1814, in Vienna. And it is absolutely bonkers, mad, brave, cheekily pugnacious, punchy, and akin to what Lear’s Fool, Samuel Beckett, and a young Mozart might have come up with if those three ever got together to have a musical bash.

Beethoven’s 8th, 200 years old today.

Read on about his infatuation with a newly created technology called the metronome, deafness and his frustration with his brother’s love affair.

humansofnewyork:

"I’m trying to figure out what direction I should be moving in.""What direction are you currently moving in?""I’m not sure I’m moving."

humansofnewyork:

"I’m trying to figure out what direction I should be moving in."
"What direction are you currently moving in?"
"I’m not sure I’m moving."

humansofnewyork:

"What do you want to be when you grow up?""Can I go down the hill now?"

humansofnewyork:

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Can I go down the hill now?"

wild-earth:

Are crows the ultimate problem solvers? - Inside the Animal Mind: Episode 2 - BBC Two

This is the most amazing example of animal genius I have ever seen, and I’ve seen a few. I’m genuinely shocked right now. Wow. You can’t not be amazed by this.

vicemag:

What It Means to Be a Slut in 2013
Tonight is Slut Night in London – follow the VICE live blog, hosted by Bertie Brandes, here.
Now that I’m feigning adulthood, I truly thought the word slut was behind me. If I wake up next to someone different than the person I remember making out with the night before in some bar’s bathroom, I’m OK with it. It’s my decision and I’ve managed to surround myself with people who happen to be OK with it, too, so that the remnant guilt doesn’t make me feel hungover for days afterward. Yet, I find that the word slut is thrown around more carelessly than ever these days. Member of the European Parliament Godfrey Bloom called a room full of women “sluts” recently (earning him a booting from UK Independence Party), UK tabloids still think it’s OK to use it in their headlines, and I’m pretty sure I overheard my neighbor call her dog a slut the other day.
It’s 2013 and though some people are still using the term to shame one another, other, much better people, are attempting to address this, be it with hashtags, neologisms, or simply by running around London half naked.Still, the word is as slippery as a used condom. Everyone has a different conception of what constitutes a slut these days, which makes it really hard to know when to be offended. To save confusion, here’s a brief guide to what certain breeds of people mean when they use the word slut in 2013.

WHEN ELDERLY RACISTS CALL YOU A SLUTEtymologically, slut comes from the word slattern, meaning “untidy” or “unclean.” This is what old people usually in the UK mean when they call you a slut. To use it in a sentence: “I find cigarette butts in my dishwasher ‘cause I live with a bunch of sluts,” or, “I have the detritus of a Domino’s Pizza crust in my belly button because I’m a filthy slut.” This is basically what Godfrey Bloom says he meant when he called a bunch of women sluts at that UK Independence Party (UKIP) conference, after they admitted—in mocking reference to a previous speech he’d made about the slobs who pass for women these days—that they didn’t “clean behind the fridge.” So it’s still misogynistic, but in a different way. Fair enough, Godfrey, but I’m keeping that pizza crust there just in case I get hungry later.WHEN TEENAGER GIRLS CALL YOU A SLUTIf there’s one thing I learned by attending an all-girls’ school, it’s that everyone’s a slut, to the point where the word becomes virtually redundant. The head teacher’s a slut. Your best friend’s a slut. The school cat that belongs to the caretaker is a slut. Whether or not you actually gave a guy a blowjob on the ferry ride back from that tenth-grade trip to France, you will get called a slut by any teenage girl who is insecure about her appearance and ability to navigate another human body, which is, oh, all of them, ever. You will also probably call another girl a slut at some point, because she was allowed to wear Steve Madden heels and a Victoria’s Secret thong and your mom wouldn’t let you have those, because she thought dressing you like that would make you look too slutty.
Continue

vicemag:

What It Means to Be a Slut in 2013

Tonight is Slut Night in London – follow the VICE live blog, hosted by Bertie Brandes, here.

Now that I’m feigning adulthood, I truly thought the word slut was behind me. If I wake up next to someone different than the person I remember making out with the night before in some bar’s bathroom, I’m OK with it. It’s my decision and I’ve managed to surround myself with people who happen to be OK with it, too, so that the remnant guilt doesn’t make me feel hungover for days afterward. Yet, I find that the word slut is thrown around more carelessly than ever these days. Member of the European Parliament Godfrey Bloom called a room full of women “sluts” recently (earning him a booting from UK Independence Party), UK tabloids still think it’s OK to use it in their headlines, and I’m pretty sure I overheard my neighbor call her dog a slut the other day.

It’s 2013 and though some people are still using the term to shame one another, other, much better people, are attempting to address this, be it with hashtags, neologisms, or simply by running around London half naked.

Still, the word is as slippery as a used condom. Everyone has a different conception of what constitutes a slut these days, which makes it really hard to know when to be offended. To save confusion, here’s a brief guide to what certain breeds of people mean when they use the word slut in 2013.

WHEN ELDERLY RACISTS CALL YOU A SLUT
Etymologically, slut comes from the word slattern, meaning “untidy” or “unclean.” This is what old people usually in the UK mean when they call you a slut. To use it in a sentence: “I find cigarette butts in my dishwasher ‘cause I live with a bunch of sluts,” or, “I have the detritus of a Domino’s Pizza crust in my belly button because I’m a filthy slut.” This is basically what Godfrey Bloom says he meant when he called a bunch of women sluts at that UK Independence Party (UKIP) conference, after they admitted—in mocking reference to a previous speech he’d made about the slobs who pass for women these days—that they didn’t “clean behind the fridge.” So it’s still misogynistic, but in a different way. Fair enough, Godfrey, but I’m keeping that pizza crust there just in case I get hungry later.

WHEN TEENAGER GIRLS CALL YOU A SLUT
If there’s one thing I learned by attending an all-girls’ school, it’s that everyone’s a slut, to the point where the word becomes virtually redundant. The head teacher’s a slut. Your best friend’s a slut. The school cat that belongs to the caretaker is a slut. Whether or not you actually gave a guy a blowjob on the ferry ride back from that tenth-grade trip to France, you will get called a slut by any teenage girl who is insecure about her appearance and ability to navigate another human body, which is, oh, all of them, ever. You will also probably call another girl a slut at some point, because she was allowed to wear Steve Madden heels and a Victoria’s Secret thong and your mom wouldn’t let you have those, because she thought dressing you like that would make you look too slutty.

Continue

vicemag:

Getting Tattooed in an Underground Shop in Cairo
Getting a proper tattoo in Cairo is near impossible. I know, because I just got one. From my personal experience, the only tattoos I ever saw in Egypt were the crosses Coptic Christians proudly wore on their hands as tradition, or the homemade, stick-and-poke tattoos young kids give each other. Anything beyond that isn’t accepted—or exactly legal. Neon-lit tattoo parlors don’t exist in Egypt.
I’ve been traveling to Cairo at least once a year since I was a child, but when I visited in 2007, I noticed a new trend: more and more young Egyptians had tattoos. They were detailed and well crafted, tattoos with the quality I could get in New York City. I was laying on the beach in Sharm el-Sheik, a vacation city in southern Sinai, when some of my friends exposed their skin and surprised me with their great tattoos. I asked a few of them where they got them, and every single one told me the same thing: an Irishman living in Cairo named Al Hurley had opened a tattoo shop.

Tattooing has always been a part of Egyptian culture. Some of the earliest documentation of tattooing comes from the ancient Egyptians. The women used to get fertility symbols and other intricately detailed tattoos across their abdomens. As these patterns expanded during pregnancy, they would form even more symbolically interesting and beautiful patterns. Bedouin women still tattoo their faces until current day. The Coptic Christians started tattooing their wrist with a cross as a symbol of their identity, a tribute to their community, and to use as protection from evil. In a predominately Muslim country, a tattooed cross is still a symbol of pride. Beyond that, graphic tattoos with detailed designed, the kind that showcase “individuality” are still uncommon in Egypt. The majority of Egyptians will still preach that tattoos are (forbidden in the Muslim religion) or only for thugs and goons, but that’s all changing, according to Al. Egyptians are getting brave, with bigger and more exposed tattoos.
To get to Al’s tattoo shop, you have to know someone. He doesn’t exactly take walk-ins and you won’t even get a response if someone doesn’t vouch for you. After a customer of his introduced us, Al agreed to speak with me via email first. After a few exchanges, he gave me his address and I took a cab to a modest apartment building in Maadi, a southwestern neighborhood in Cairo. Once there, the doorman immediately asked me in Arabic if I was I was looking for Al. I suppose I looked the type.
The tattoo shop sits on top of the building, overlooking Maadi’s prison—one of the largest and most famous in Cairo. Al’s got a buzzed haircut and bright blue eyes. In expected tattoo-artist fashion, the majority of his body is covered in ink. He’s a brilliant guy with many opinions about Egyptian politics but he won’t share them. He says it’s not his country and that he has no real right to meddle into Egyptian affairs. He’s an Irishman who was living in England, and when his father died, he took a trip to Cairo where his mother lived. He only stayed because more people kept getting tattoos. In his nine years, he’s seen a lot of interesting things: An American businessman in Cairo once requested a collapsing image of the Twin Towers as a sleeve, because he believed 9/11 was a conspiracy.
When I sat down in his shop to get maktub, the Arabic word for “written” tattooed on my shoulder, Al told me even stranger stories that, at his request, I had to keep out, but maybe he’ll tell you himself if you’re ever in Cairo. I was just psyched Al even agreed to speak to me. This was the first interview he’s ever allowed since he’s been in Egypt.

VICE: When was your first tattoo?Al Hurley: I did my first tattoo when I was probably around 14 years old. Small hand pokes, little homemade tattoos. I always had an interest in art, was always drawing. My first professional tattoo I got done when I was 18, and ever since then I’ve been hooked on it.
When did you start tattooing people?I started in 2000. I got into it totally by mistake. A friend of mine was getting tattooed and I was asking a bunch of questions, and the tattoo artist, Michele Prezioso, offered to train me. He said if I was able to get money in the next two days, he said he’d get me the equipment and get me started. So I got he idea in my head and borrowed the money. I ended up getting the money together and picked up the equipment on Friday.
Continue

vicemag:

Getting Tattooed in an Underground Shop in Cairo

Getting a proper tattoo in Cairo is near impossible. I know, because I just got one. From my personal experience, the only tattoos I ever saw in Egypt were the crosses Coptic Christians proudly wore on their hands as tradition, or the homemade, stick-and-poke tattoos young kids give each other. Anything beyond that isn’t accepted—or exactly legal. Neon-lit tattoo parlors don’t exist in Egypt.

I’ve been traveling to Cairo at least once a year since I was a child, but when I visited in 2007, I noticed a new trend: more and more young Egyptians had tattoos. They were detailed and well crafted, tattoos with the quality I could get in New York City. I was laying on the beach in Sharm el-Sheik, a vacation city in southern Sinai, when some of my friends exposed their skin and surprised me with their great tattoos. I asked a few of them where they got them, and every single one told me the same thing: an Irishman living in Cairo named Al Hurley had opened a tattoo shop.

Tattooing has always been a part of Egyptian culture. Some of the earliest documentation of tattooing comes from the ancient Egyptians. The women used to get fertility symbols and other intricately detailed tattoos across their abdomens. As these patterns expanded during pregnancy, they would form even more symbolically interesting and beautiful patterns. Bedouin women still tattoo their faces until current day. The Coptic Christians started tattooing their wrist with a cross as a symbol of their identity, a tribute to their community, and to use as protection from evil. In a predominately Muslim country, a tattooed cross is still a symbol of pride. Beyond that, graphic tattoos with detailed designed, the kind that showcase “individuality” are still uncommon in Egypt. The majority of Egyptians will still preach that tattoos are (forbidden in the Muslim religion) or only for thugs and goons, but that’s all changing, according to Al. Egyptians are getting brave, with bigger and more exposed tattoos.

To get to Al’s tattoo shop, you have to know someone. He doesn’t exactly take walk-ins and you won’t even get a response if someone doesn’t vouch for you. After a customer of his introduced us, Al agreed to speak with me via email first. After a few exchanges, he gave me his address and I took a cab to a modest apartment building in Maadi, a southwestern neighborhood in Cairo. Once there, the doorman immediately asked me in Arabic if I was I was looking for Al. I suppose I looked the type.

The tattoo shop sits on top of the building, overlooking Maadi’s prison—one of the largest and most famous in Cairo. Al’s got a buzzed haircut and bright blue eyes. In expected tattoo-artist fashion, the majority of his body is covered in ink. He’s a brilliant guy with many opinions about Egyptian politics but he won’t share them. He says it’s not his country and that he has no real right to meddle into Egyptian affairs. He’s an Irishman who was living in England, and when his father died, he took a trip to Cairo where his mother lived. He only stayed because more people kept getting tattoos. In his nine years, he’s seen a lot of interesting things: An American businessman in Cairo once requested a collapsing image of the Twin Towers as a sleeve, because he believed 9/11 was a conspiracy.

When I sat down in his shop to get maktub, the Arabic word for “written” tattooed on my shoulder, Al told me even stranger stories that, at his request, I had to keep out, but maybe he’ll tell you himself if you’re ever in Cairo. I was just psyched Al even agreed to speak to me. This was the first interview he’s ever allowed since he’s been in Egypt.

VICE: When was your first tattoo?
Al Hurley: I did my first tattoo when I was probably around 14 years old. Small hand pokes, little homemade tattoos. I always had an interest in art, was always drawing. My first professional tattoo I got done when I was 18, and ever since then I’ve been hooked on it.

When did you start tattooing people?
I started in 2000. I got into it totally by mistake. A friend of mine was getting tattooed and I was asking a bunch of questions, and the tattoo artist, Michele Prezioso, offered to train me. He said if I was able to get money in the next two days, he said he’d get me the equipment and get me started. So I got he idea in my head and borrowed the money. I ended up getting the money together and picked up the equipment on Friday.

Continue

theatlantic:

The Surprising Economics of Mooncakes—An Infographic