Al Gore got stuck on a scissor lift. Studio execs fell asleep at a screening. And everybody hated the title. The amazing true story of the most improbable — and important — film of our time.
Ultimately, I am more of a tourist than a time-traveler. After all, no digital collection can fully reveal what the past was really like. There will always be mysteries left unexplained.
Thomas Thwaites first considered becoming an animal on a spring day in 2013. He was walking Noggin, his nieces’ Irish terrier, along the Thames when he found himself taking stock of his life. Thwaites was then thirty-three. A few years earlier, he’d launched his career as an artist and designer with a clever project: constructing a toaster from scratch, mining the iron and making the plastic himself. Along the way, he catalogued the environmental devastation caused by humanity’s determination to toast en masse—a vast crime against nature committed in the name of breakfast. Thwaites’s toaster was acquired by the Victoria & Albert Museum for its permanent collection. Although the toaster never actually made toast—a few crucial components proved too difficult to build—it was, in all other respects, a success.
As a second generation immigrant, the way I pronounce my name is different to how my parents say it. But it’s my choice, and I refuse to feel guilty about it.
As you probably know, Jeremy Corbyn, the embattled leader of the Labour Party, is a vegetarian: or if you read the Daily Mail, a “teetotal vegetarian”. It’s taken for granted that Corbyn’s dietary choices are indicative of his politics and beliefs just as his beard is an outward and visible sign of his inward and invisible weirdness. In Ludwig Feuerbach’s phrasing, Der Mensch ist, was er isst.