Massachusetts College of Art and Design - Palette and Pen Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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The Center of Vision pepper and glass jugs. Again are victims talked at by gesticulating overseer. “IMake punishment fit wrong-doing,” he sing-song. He pull girl smock near ofi ' and finally get her ten feet from canvas. “Paint it from here,” he exasperate. “Don’t eat group with nose. What breakfast food you eat huh ?” he request another. I decide that too intimate topic of conversing and frown reproving. “Turn a handspring,” he rage “Drink a water. Out damn spot.” (I close ears shockingly and edge toward door.) “Why make Homer look like Ash can!” he glare. He tear what hair he capture on head and stamp round looking heavenward. I decide that nearer roof we get, worse they are. “Go get another eye ! take the air !” he bellow. I decide cool air is outside and rush to take same. Green guide grab coat tails and haul my person back. “This is Miss Flint room.” I take good look and shriek at sight of bodies standing without head on neck. I realize in wave that this is body store-room for heads in first floor work room. I tear away leave coat tails behind. With rush- ing down three flight of stairway and trips down other rest of them, I land on ground floor ; and under that I dash thru dark holes and bump on green boxes set upright with clanging, I fly half way in other underground torture chamber. Harmless looking man is pounding life out of unseen object. “I receive idea,” I hear him expatiate but rush back imagining all things. I find hall of entrance and see outer lightness, when pleasent but firm face confronts me standing. “How you wander in this place without knowing me ?” she question drasticly. “I know sufficient and wish to e.xit hastily,” I inform histonically. She gaze with no words thinkingly for instant. “No outsider wanders thru building unattached,” she informingly snuggest. “Outsider desiring life wouldn’t I” I ejaculate pertly and dash past out door. Sound of gong gives new impetus to my body and I land up sideway on pavement. After counting stars I rise and meander curvingly down street. L ntil now my fingertips contain to much shiver to use pen. Recently I be- come less like shimmy expert and think more straight. I have decision that your school is dippy place within four walls. IMy suspicion are based on evidence of circumstantiality and with all honorable respect to school I deduct that school may be harmless but not quite right inside skull. Hoping your are same, I decide to remain, Stude Dakta. Mr. Andrew to Students — Until the examination begins, I should advise you all to go off somewhere in a corner and look over your anatomy. 21

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The Final Touch “Getting handsomer not?” I long to go within to see accumulation of handsomeness. We continue to lend ears. “Cut out masses,” I hear said. “Her head and feet are entirely off. You must separate bone from flesh on long line. Cut off whole arm and push nose forward. Improved, isn’t it?” “Ancestral shadows,” roar I in whisper, “is this torture chamber?” “Life Room,” she gulp sardonically. I gallop madly to door six feet off down hall and am about to precipitate self thru when female’s voice floats forth in torrent. “Block it in ! Sharpen charcoal to wavering knife edge and cut out masses. Take that head off and start over again on other side. Block it out!” “If she teach horrors like that,” I expectorate with spine freeze up and down in turns. “How she come forth yet alive?” I listen exhuberantly for answer with eyes popped. Green one laugh. “Inmates too paralytic with fear.” She shudder convincingly. We enter big hall, I still glancing over backwards at murmurs. Man in front lectures with hands, face and self, as usual, to mob of three victims. Pieces of board in front have crazy color and crazy shape on. I shake head knowingly. “Come Sunnymong?” request man waving hands near chest? I advance, but advise that not my appelation. He take off small windows from bridge of nose and scratch head. Returns glass windows to face and looks at crazy piece of board. “Your gesture are wooden and your face a horror !” he hiss with chin pro- truding. I look in wrath at him. “It best face I got,” I vituperate proudly and stalk forth from room. We now meet sweet lady with grey hair. “That most unfortunate,” she soothe nicely. I feel better for just to see her and think place not perhaps so crazy as for- merly. Then other right honorable genial lady approaches, smiling at corner of mouth and eyes and wflth brisk step. I wish to tell her my suspicion trouble to once but feel retiring and cease. “She Whittier,” say Green One. “I think she look it,” I conciliate believingly. We stand on landing and thru door I see blue smocks around table eating and talking to lady. “They feed here?” I say askingly. “True,” reinform interpolater. “That is tea for Miss Cleaves, lecturer on superprevention.” I again feel school not quite right ’cause Japanese tea never dark red. W ' e journey again down dark hall by torture rooms and up metal stairs. Enter what I grasp for junk shop. Many ladies petticoat on wall behind red 20

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The Final Touch 1921 SPEAKS They’ll have the same old peg-board When our years at school are done, But no more will come a-“pegging in” The class of Twenty-one ; And it won’t be quite so simple Keeping tabs upon a friend On that other larger peg-board To which we transfer at the end. We’ll wonder what they’re doing, Have they met success or strife? Is this one still as serious? This one still laugh on life? We’d like to scan the peg-board. Find they’d come to school today And greet them, just in passing. In that careless Art School way; But we know that Time and Circumstance Prevent a friendly greeting. So we’ll trust the pages of this book To bring about a meeting. And here you’ll find them, every one. The clever, grave and gay. By magic come to look at you In the old familiar way. And as you view each pictured face It seems to bring them near. So just take a mental roll-call And each one will answer “Here !” 22