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

Page 10 text:

T he Plumbline The Green Moon by ' era, the Vers Libre Versifier I peek through the knot-hole In iny daddy ' s wooden leg And wonder why They built the shore So close to the ocean And why they cut the sleeves Off daddy’s vest And dug up Fido ' s bones To make a sewer. Famous Failures The man who opened a Gift Shop in Edinburgh. Nature Oh see the leaves upon the tree That is where they ought to be Whether they be foul or fair Papa did not put them there. S. H. Utopia Realized New School Promises Much in Way of Improvements Many new features contributing to the comfort and enjoyment of the stu- dents will be incorporated in the new school, according to O. I. Inmiigate. superintendent of constrnction in an exclusive interview with the Plumber. ■‘We hope to give the students a better break, said Fumigate, and in- troduce conveniences that will tend to brighten their few leisure moments. For example, the stair treads will be finished in overstuffed leather enabling students to sit on the stairs for longer intervals than are possible at present. The wooden and iron treads now em- ploved become irksome after a period of half an hour or so and students be- come tired out from walking about iu search of a comfortable seat. With these new leather stairs bigger and better rest periods will be possilile. Another novelty will be the new drinking fountains. These will come in assorted flavors and have special musical attachments that play har- monious and uplifting tunes when the handle is turned. Think how inspiring it will be to inhale a lemon and lime to the air of ' That ' s My Weakness Now,’ or perhaps a chocolate malted while the fountain plays ‘I Can ' t Ciive You . nything but Love, Baby’.’’ Having learned these pertinent and hitherto unrevealed facts about the new building, the Plumber sought expert opinion on the character of the build- ing site. He succeeded in obtaining the following statement from Epamin- ondous Formaldehyde. Royal Blue Line driver and an authority on sites. Said Formaldehyde, In the pursuance of professional duties, I recently passed the future location of your new school and I must say that I’ve never seen a better dump.’’ Assemblies You Should July 18 Not Miss Gordon MacTavisb Reynolds, noted traveler, author of Westward Whole, Across Salt Lake in a Prairie Schooner, etc., will lecture on Our National Won- ders — Blonde and Brunette. August 3 kl. Walker Burbank, chief electrician of M. S. A., will talk on How I Put Transformers in the Northern Lights or Midnight Frolics with .Aurora Bore- alis.” Ave Atque Vale The current spasm represents the last appearance of the Plumbline. This is our curtain speech, our swan song. If some of you have gleaned an occa- sional chuckle from this page, a mo- mentary glow of pleasure perhaps, then we have not plumbed in vain. K. H. B. — The Plumber. An Intervietv With Rabbi Dr. Harry Levi Young lady to see you. Dr. Levi.” I ' ll he down in a moment, came the voice so familiar to hundreds of radio fans. I was thankful for the moment which gave me ample time to observe my sur- roundings. The very simplicity of the room seemed to tell of the greatness of the man, h ' mself. The Rabbi began, in his calm and re- served manner, to speak of his work at Temple Israel, work which well qualifies him as an exceptionally interesting speak- er for our commencement exercises. The majority of people,” he said, think of -Art only as a painting which is hung in a museum. They do not make it a part of their lives.” T)r. Levi has organized classes at the Temple in which people, both adults and children, may study painting, sculpture, wood carving, drama, and music. These students are being given a chance to under- stand and appreciate -Art. to become more intimate with it, to express themseh ' es, and to develop their talents. Their organizer and director spoke with pride of the fine showing whicli some of these people made in a recent exhibition at 40 Joy Street. Many prominent men have spoken at their class meetings, including our own Mr. Farnum. The Rabbi siKike of the absence of plastic art in the synagogues. “The early. Orthodox Jews did not rea- lize that there might he painting in the Synagogue other than a representation ot the image of (jod. A ou see, the second Hebrew Commandment, ‘Thou shalt have no other God before thee, led them to dis- approve of all plastic .Art. Therefore there are no early Jewish painters of repute. Our people in the past have done more in drama and music than in painting. Tixlay we know that there is a place in the Temple for .Art, and that it need not take the form of a representation of God.” Dr. Levi has appointed an .Art Board, composed of men who have had definite art training and who are competent to judge all art work done for the Temple. I asked the Rabbi the subject of his talk for Commencement. I do not plan my talks, ' ’ he told me, “but it will probably have something to do with the relation of .Art to our daily The Bridgewater Murals This year the project of painting mural decorations for Bridgewater Normal School is being completed. I ' or the past two years, members of the Senior Drawing and Painting classes have been carrying on the work under the super- vision of Mr. .Andrew. For the subject of the murals Air. .Andrew planned a unified series of panels embodying the idea of general education. Each of tlie five panels expresses a land- mark in the history of education. Classi- cal, Medieval, and Hebrew education are depicte d. The central panel pictures Horace Mann, the founder of the Bridge- water Normal School, and his first grad- uating class of three girls. In the fifth panel, the first public school in .America, which was maintained in Dedham, is shown. There was also space in tlie auditorium for ten small panels, and these. Air. .An- drew planned to be painted in gray mono- chrome, and to represent the Nine Aluses. The tenth panel will represent the figures of Painting and .Architecture, leaving space for an inscription. (This tablet, IK) doubt, will give honor where honor is due — to Air. Farnum, as director of the project for the school, and to Air. .Andrew, supervisor of the work. It will also give the name of each student whose work is represented in the decorations.) The decorations progressed so well the first year, and last year, that there were only five of the small panels left for this year ' s class to undertake. Erato, the Muse of Lyric Poetry, is by .Arthur Corsini : the Aluse of History is by Ed- ward Alenges : the Aluse of Religious Poetry by Rachel Clapp; and Calliope, the Aluse of Epic Poetry, by Lincoln Levinson. To Ralph .Shepherd was in- trusted the Inscription Panel. The painting of these murals has given an opportunity not often open to the art ' student. This opportunity being recog- nized and appreciated, the project was undertaken seriously, and each panel rep- resents the finest and most sincere work of which each student is capable. Appreciation To those e.xtra people, who have had such a large part in the making of The ' Vignette this year, and who have done their chores ' ’ so cheerfully, we want to express our ap])reciation. Their work has been as important as that of the regular staff, and the staff is grate- ful to them for the fine spirit with whicli they have contributed. Air. Porter and Mr. Brewster have given us splendid articles, and Air. Brewster has been very kind in loaning us interesting cuts. We have tried to maintain a certain standard, and if ne have succeeded at all. it has been through Air. Jamison’s unfailing willingness to help. • He has kept us from e.xcesses and encouraged our best efforts. We are deeply grate- ful for this year of work with him. 8

Page 9 text:

Thoreau Out of the eartli as a tree or stone, Hale from its tempests of wind and of rain. Warmed to the heart by the life-giving sun. Rugged as soil, he came. Winds rushing by in the firs, over fields, ' rinkling the smoothness of water still; Winds rushing by took his face in their span. Shaping it to their will. Silences, circling all earth in their hold. Gripping the land when the air was dim ! Silences after the voices of fields Made a vast stillness in him. Spacing of trees, the bending of grass. The wonder life hid to careless eye: These caught his vision. He held as the pond The trees, the infinite skv. H. L. F. Fate “Poppycock! Waring ' s crisp, clipped accents broke in upon the speaker ' s measured tones. Munsell thus addressed, smiled tol- erantly at the interruption. He was by nature a tolerant soul, a distinguished scholar, a professor of philosophy, a recognized leader in his field. He glanced speculatively about the little group gathered in a corner of the club lounge. It was a small but dis- tinguished assemblage. There was Steele the great industrialist. Thayer the physicist, Obermann the author, and lastly Waring. Waring, whose name was one to conjure with in the field of science, whose experiments and research had gained him international fame. His cold grey eyes now rested on Munsell as impersonally and search- ingly as they customarily regarded protoplasms through a high-powered microscope. Munsell met their gaze with a slow, humorous smile. “You deny then the existence of Fate as a distinct factor, a personal force in life?’’ “Absolutely ! To believe in Fate, mv dear Munsell, is to attribute things to chance, to accidental occurrence. Such a belief cannot be reconciled with the tenets of science. We scientists know that life is governed by the operation of natural, fundamental laws. Fate has no place in a rational scheme of things, in an ordered universe such as ours. I repeat my assertion that a belief in Fate as a governing factor in life is poppy- cock. There is no such thing as Fate!” Waring ' s challenging glance swept the group a moment and then as no one replied he arose, and nodding a brief good-night, left the room. As he stepped out to his waiting car ' aring noticed that rain had begun to fall and that the pavements were already shin- ing wet. It would be slow driving in the city traffic but once outside he could gain time. He ground to a stop at a red light, and glanced impatiently at the dash clock, fretting at the mo- mentary delay. He disliked to have his orderly plans upset by small an- noyances, particularly when a matter of importance was involved. Tonight the final computations on his new for- mula must be revised so that in the morning all might be readj ' for tin final stage of his great experiment. Already it was practically completed. He had worked long and zealously, and now the outcome was no longer in doubt. It needed but a final checking over. Tomorrow it would be com- pleted, and he. Waring, would be in possession of the answer to that long sought enigma, the secret of life. Many before him had sought for it in vain, but he would succeed where they had failed. Everything was in readiness, and he alone possessed the key to un- lock the hidden chamber. Waring smiled grimly. Yes, he had guarded the experiment well and no one in the world suspected that he was on the verge of the stupendous revelation. W’ell, the world would find out after tomorrow, and what acclaim, what tre- mendous power would be his. He would have the world literallj ' in the hollow of his hand. He had now reached the outskirts of the city, and in obedience to his touch the powerful car leaped forward in a burst of speed. Waring noted with satisfaction the deep-throated roar of the motor, vibrant like a thing alive. Some poet one time had written of, “The cool impassioned beauty of a great machine.” Waring liked that jjhrase. How ai)plicable to life itself. For after all life was like a cool, im- passioned machine, governed by cer- tain laws, just as a machine operated upon certain laws of physics. It was all so ordered and scientific when one really saw clearly, and et incurable, fanciful dreamers like old Munsell talked about the influence of Fate, of how human beings were directed by chance. It was just a weak e.xcuse for failure, this attributing things to an obscure power called Fate. Well he. Waring, needed no such excuse, he would not fail through the interference of Fate. Life was not like that, it was a thing of order and law, test tubes and retorts, and tomorrow he would have the iiroof. He drove his foot triumphantly down upon the throttle and the car roared up the steep hill. To the right beyond the wooded guard rail the hill dropped sharply to the floor of a deep rock- ravine. Waring ' s eyes followed the fence curving up into the darkness like a white snake. Then his glance dropped to the dash clock. Five minutes and he would he home. Two glaring lights swept toward him around the curve ahead. Two lights that rapidly became four lights en- twined. and then a holocaust of light, writhing steel — and twisted flame. I- ' o-- an instant it flared in the night and then all became lost in the deeper blackness of the valley two hundred feet below. K. H. B. High-lights in the Yearns Assemblies I feel a bit like O. O. Meintire when he began reviewing the Stage of Life. As he so aptly says, “These are only my ideas, those of a common layman, no critic ' s words of wisdom.” Knowing Tomi as well as we do, made Mrs. Tomita ' s talk on Japan, just before Christmas, most interesting. Her little human, intimate glimpses told us more of Japan than any number of instructive articles. Mrs. Tomita made us see Japan as a neighbor and not as a strangely alien nation, as far from us in thought as in miles and customs. In striking contrast to the December 12 Assembly, came that of January 9, given by the girls from the Costume Course, who spent eight thrilling weeks amongst lace and furbelows, movie stars and ce- lebrities, to the tune of sewing machines and arrogant fitters in Xew York. All the girls were enthusiastic over their ex- perience and all brought home something new. Of course, of all the assemblies. Gordon Reynolds ' on February 13 gave me the most pleasure, because I could follow him in retrospect to almost all the places he visited. (9f course, being a man, he out- rode and out-walked me. He got the real spirit of Western joy in life out there and brought it back to us. On March 20, Ted Bradley gave us a very enjoyable hour with himself and his pupils of the dance. Ted utilizes his type wisely in the dashing, romantic type of dance. Even better than his Hungarian number was his Indian solo. If you have really seen the American Indian in one of his ritual ' dances, you can more readily appreciate the artistry of Ted’s interpreta- tion. It was virile, and vital, and truly sincere. A cheerful soul is Mr. Whiting, of the Herald: he tells humorous hits on him- self and others with a straight face but twinkling eye. His intimate glimpses of some of our political leaders, and of poli- tics in general, held us clapping for more even after twelve o ' clock. — the real test! On April 3. our own Elmer Hall came in and gave us, not oidy an interesting and amusing talk, but some sane advice and in- side information about the theatre and the problems that confront its people. Despite the wet climax, following the submarine story, it was a most success- ful morning. We are still hoping that Mr. Minot felt no offence at being greeted on his late arrival by a burst of song entitled, most aptly, “Oh. M ' here is John? His list of hasty reviews made us wish he could have stayed over-time, but even literary edi- tors get hungry and he left us on the crest of interest crying for more. f)ur . ssembly with the Xoyes School of Rhythm representatives proved highly entertaining. .Some of our members have visited the Xoyes School and tried a few capers for themselves. They report a good time, and that we may easily believe. Signing off, Peggy Flexxer. 7

Page 11 text:

EDITCCI AL DORIS WHITTAKER, Editor Editorial Staff Class Editors M. Root K. Gillette N. Smith D. Hunter E. Durgin K. Barton M. Oliver L. Gifford Sandburg People vs. Ford Hall” 5 :30 P. M. A cool, unhurried walk across the Common, the lack of haste soon to be regretted, for after standing in line over an hour the doors finally opened, admitted a horde of people who were fortunate enough to gain a seat, and he, who had but recently sauntered across the Common — was confronted with these words, which seemed to leer and gloat from the placard upon which the dreaded letters were all too evident: •‘.STANDING ROOM ONLY I At last, inside the immortal gates, “Silver collection, please,” the self-conscious Art student laid his ipiarter to rest amongst the numerous dimes dep rsited hy his more brazen brethren. He had regained only partial conscious- ness when a paper was thrust in his hands and he was asked to lift his voice with the rest of the multitude and carol forth sweet moan with a voice for many years a topic for discussion amongst his fellows. Added to this, numerous elbows prodding him under the seventh rib (note Pre- Rephaelite description), and in other and sundry locations on the anatomy, was not at all conducive to the proper control of the larynx. However, the scribe moved his lips in the accepted fashion, — and those assembled held their rage in check. The Bedlam increased until it became, to the uninitiated ear, a jumbled, chaotic cacophony of sound : “W ' a-ay down up- on the Su-wan-eeee rivuh !’’ “Silver col- lection. please! “My! Isn ' t it close in here? “Close? Yeh ! All we need is a little olive oil an ' a fancy label ! “Say ! would ya ' kindly — “Silver col- lection. please! “No. madam, there are no seats! “ ' hich one of them is Sand- burg? “Yes? No? Why? “I won- der how hot it really is? And ever and anon, ringing triumphantly above the assorted clamor came the insistent tenor, “Silver collection, please !“ Even Jingle Bells did little to re- lieve the oppressing heat. One thought of “Frigidaire ' ’ and Coue and wondered how it would feel to pass out and be carried feet-first through those hard-won doors, bevond which was good air, — fresh air — CCDOL AIR! “No! Don ' t think! Makes your head feel queer ! Bad stuff — stifling! Carry on! Sandburg ' ll soon be here !’’ .- t last, a gray-haired, homely man stumbled awkwardly to the center of the stage. From all outward appearances he was a rather colorless person, save for the manner in which he aff ected his hair. This was Sandburg. It seemed almost impossible to see in this man the champion of free verse, the soldier, edi- tor, correspondent, biographer, vagabond, and poet. Sandburg, after listening uncomfort- ably to the chairman who, with pompous abdomen and frock coat much in evidence, stood imploring the people to recognize both his and Sandburg ' s greatness, rose, and in a dry, inimicable manner, began to acquaint his super-heated audience with his subject. He proceeded to read some thirty-eight original definitions of poetry. “Poetry, drawled Sandburg, “is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. “Or, he continued, deliberately, “poetry is a synthesis of hyacinths — and biscuits ! In defining poetry, Sandburg explained that the plow was once an effective poetic symbol, but it is now being replaced by a tractor. He claimed that it is as use- less for modern poetry to affect a classi- cal guise as it is for a ' aldorf roll to masquerade as the loaf that the raven brought Elijah. Both the old and the new have their place. — the ri( ht place. Chariot races were quite the thing at Antioch, but one never sees a chariot on Newhury Street. The poet read selections from his latest publication. Good Morning America, in which he says, Behold the proverbs of a people, a nation : There ' s one born every minute ! Keep off the grass ! Watch your step ! Don ' t park here ! Keep your shirt on ! Ten cents apiece, three for a quarter! A man of infinite variety ; he then produced a guitar and crooned a reper- toire of American folk-songs, “songs, he explained, “of the people. All too soon, he concluded and the Forum began. It was immediately sug- gested, and the suggestion was applauded right lustily, that Sandburg continue, and the Forum be dispensed with. Unhap- pily. this motion was not carried, but Sandburg ' s imperturbable nature and dry humor showed to tremendous advantage in the F ' orum that followed. His calm self-restraint wa s an armor against both the subtle and obvious insults fired at him, and his caustic wit proved an effec- tive lance. When asked if he had a new Lincoln anecdote, he replied that Lincoln once entertained a number of the fashionable set at the White House, one, a woman of exceptional girth, who promptly sat and spread herself upon Lincoln ' s new beaver hat. Some minutes later the pon- derous creature arose, and Lincoln, look- ing ruefully at the remains, addressed her in this fashion, “I could have told you. Madam, before you sat down, that it wouldn’t fit you!” The impression that one first received of this biographer of Lincoln, was now quite definitely conveyed. Through his intense and sincere study he seems to have absorbed the very spirit of the Emancipator, this other queer man, Sand- burg. Paul Quixn. Around the Galleries M’ith a sudden strong noise, the sun rose out of China, the temple bells were ringing in my ears, and a grinning croco- dile leered at me from the corner of the room. No. all this commotion was not due to the after-effects of the night be- fore. It was merely an intoxicating il- lusion aroused by the pictures of India and Palestine, by Ruth Coleman. They were on exhibition at the ’ose, and were uni(|ue. unusual, quite different. In fact. I liked them awfully. They were done in flat areas of water color on soft, porous paper which gave them the effect of block prints. They were a striking example of design and color, and the picturesque subjects made them quite unforgettable. “On the Shore of Galilee was a de- sign in blues and grey-purple of a Biblical shepherd strolling thru the wilderness with his shepherd ' s pipe and his dog be- side him. A humorous donkey with a pale purple hide amiably carries a young Israelite in “Jerusalem Boy on Donkey.” “Hindu Women Water Carriers” has in the foreground a number of Burmah girls such as the one in Kipling ' s verse. Their faces are the original sun-tan hue. and their petticoats are the traditional yellow and green with red and blue stripes. Each carries a green water jar poised upon her hip. The temple bells are no joke. You can really hear them now. Miss Coleman ought to do the designs for a new edition of Kipling, for her sketches exhale that same powerful feeling of the atmosphere of India that we find in “Kim and the “Jungle Books.” This collection was in the small room at the ' ose. The display in the main gallery was almost as good. The two exhibitions made a League of Nations as 9