Out of the academy and into the agora, Americans are thinking and questioning in ways that would make Socrates smile.

Modern art was elitist, so Komar and Melamid asked people what they wanted. Then they painted it — by the numbers.

The Attic reads and reviews this curious collection of curious (and insightful) maps.

Once just a pack of Ivy League smartasses, the Harvard Lampoon is now the stepping stone to comedy careers.

When the Depression cut off Appalachia, women on horseback brought books into dark hollows.

Twenty years ago, after decades of protest, this Puerto Rican island ejected the U.S. Navy and restored peace. And paradise perhaps.

Classical was a bore until Leonard Bernstein aired his “Young People’s Concerts.” (As seen in “Maestro.”)

Women couldn’t run 26 miles. Impossible. Then women jumped into the pack in Boston, and ran and ran. . .

In April 1923, the national pastime welcomed a stadium, a legend, and the first field of dreams.

Blending Bach with Biggie, "Black Violin" challenges every tired old touchstone.

“Gentle on My Mind” made him famous but John Hartford’s heart was always on the Mississippi.

On the verge of Infinite Jest, DFW took a cruise. His witty, acerbic, heartfelt account bore all the brilliance of his novels.

When America used “science” to back white supremacy, Franz Boas and his students battled the B.S.

Children’s TV was a wasteland. Then Joan Ganz Cooney took us all to “Sesame Street.”

Photography was losing its focus when Ansel Adams and friends founded Group f/64. And blew us all away.

Long before AI and Chat GPT, Wendell Berry asked a question we should all ponder.