Early last year I wrote a two-part series on the evolution of the King James Bible. For over three hundred years, from its publication in 1611 until the mid-twentieth century, the King James Bible, or Authorised Version, was the most widely-read bible among English-speaking Protestants.
Recently a video popped up in my Facebook newsfeed. It was the story of Jamie Livingston, a New York-based filmmaker who, from March 1979 until his death on October 25th 1997, took a polaroid photograph each day. Taken together, these candid photographs chart the mundane and poignant story of a life lived in New York City just before the digital revolution.
The original website is a bit clunky to navigate, and to be honest I haven’t spent much time there, but the video is like a visit to an exhibition of Livingston’s work. He took the ordinary and showed its beauty, and to me that is one of the most wonderful things an artist can do.
Check out the video and let me know what you think.
Recently my Dad gave me a real treat: he took me out to see The Imperial Russian Ballet’s ‘Festival of Russian Ballet’ at the Whanganui Opera House. With the tag-line ‘if you only see one ballet in a lifetime, make it ‘A Festival of Russian Ballet’, they were certainly confident in what they had to offer, and over the course of the three-hour performance they delivered. Continue reading “Local Culture: A Festival of Russian Ballet”→
In 1895, Irish novelist, essayist, and playwright Oscar Wilde was riding high on the success of his latest play, ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ and his relationship with young aristocrat Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie). But the good times were not to last. Douglas’ furious father, the Marquis of Queensberry, left a calling-card at Wilde’s club inscribed ‘for Oscar Wilde, posing somdomite’ [sic]. Continue reading “Poems You Should Know: The Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde”→
Born at the close of the 19th century, Hemingway embodied, for good or ill, a type of masculinity seldom encountered in the West today. He was born and raised in Oak Park, Illinois, into a conservative middle-class family. His musician mother, Grace, endeavoured to teach him the cello, but his physician father, Clarence, seems to have been more influential, spending their family vacations teaching his son how to camp, hunt, fish, and generally love and thrive in the great outdoors. In high school he was involved in a number of sports, but also excelled in English and wrote for his school paper. Continue reading “Author Profile: Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)”→
The Culture Project has always been about starting at the very beginning, and nowhere is this more the case for me than in Philosophy, a subject which has been studied for millennia by people of tremendous genius, and about which I know practically nothing. In the grand tradition, then, of posting literally all I know about a particular subject, here is my brief explanation of the four core areas of Western philosophy, as studied for thousands of years by people much smarter than me.
Born in Derbyshire, England, Louise Ingram Rayner (1832-1924) was a watercolourist who, throughout the summers of the 1870s and 1880s, travelled throughout England painting exquisite cityscapes. I encountered her work through the Female Artists in History Facebook page, which I’ve blogged about before, and am always happy when one of her beautiful pictures of Victorian England appears in my newsfeed. For me, they capture views that are at once familiar (many Victorian buildings are still standing in England today), and foreign, with a gentle touch which admittedly disguises some of the uglier realities of Victorian life.
Mid-twentieth century poet James K. Baxter was a complicated man with a certain prophetic bent. A number of his poems, like this one, challenged contemporary social assumptions. In ‘The Maori Jesus’, the Christ is depicted as a somewhat down-and-out member of New Zealand’s indigenous people who pays a heavy price for living outside comfortable White social norms. For me as a Christian, Baxter captures something in this poem which is too easily forgotten in our ‘nice’ White, middle class religion.