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

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The E. A. A. Convention New York, — great! Time granted by school, — marvelous ! Family permission, — best yet ! That ' s what comes of being a “teacher-trainer’’ ; now will you other classmen look down on us with indif- ference and disdain ? N ' e may not be far removed from animal trainers, but we have our good points and our good times ; wait and read. Being eligible to join the Eastern Arts Association, and attending its convention is one of the high-lights of our profes- sional careers, especially when that con- vention is held in New York, with head- quarters at the Pennsylvania Hotel. (3ut of a possible nine in oflr class, only four succeeded in making the trip. Our class president did nobly. From what we hear of his tours through Brook- lyn and Coney Island at -?- A. M. and his hikes and swims at Bear Mountain, we judge he was much too busy to miss anything or anybody. The convention itself was most en- lightening, as well as enjoyable. It made us feel quite proud to see our own Mr. Farnum among the celebrities, and made us feel quite at home, or maybe, at school, to see Miss Phillips and ' 1 “other Mother, Miss Whittier, there too. If anyone felt lost, her cheery smile was reassuring. Dr. ’aughn was also pres- ent for two days. The discovery that she was going to be there saved the stay-at- h imes a dreaded quizz. It would be impossible to recall all that we heard at the convention. Perhaps just the impressions or thoughts which still seem to linger in our minds because of their newness or value will be sufficient. It is quite unnecessary to say that we heard many exceptionally fine speakers; men of power in industry, art, and edu- cation. It should be mentioned, also, that we heard women too. of C(iual excellence in their lines of endeavor. Supplementing the lectures were ex- cursions to different exhibitions of art work in tbe schools and colleges of New York, the Art Centre, the Metropolitan Museum, and the Museum of Natural History. None of us could possibly visit all the exhibits that were open to the E. A. A. Convention members, but we were given a certain amount of free time on our programs in which we could select what we most wished to see, and we were taken to those places by bus. If there is one thing that I took away with me (besides free samples) it was a much broader and more optimistic idea of the modern trend in art. especially as regards art education in the public schools. I do not mean that all the “ists” and “isms are accepted blindly, but they are recognized in so far as they seem to tie up definitely with modern life and activity. A child that is brought up in the noisy, restless, speedy, grasping at- mosphere of today cannot help but be a part of that life, and it will be reflected in his creative work. To discourage evi- dences of skyscrapers, airplanes, jazz, and unrest, is to make him live one life and depict another, and to do this is dam- aging to both. The problem is to allow the symbols or evidences of the age to come from him as he feels them to be, then, by training, show him how to make those things with which he is familiar, beautiful. This is where the study of an- cient and classic art should come in to aid the student in his judgment of what is best for art ' s sake, and for the sake of utility and appropriateness. It is bring- ing art up to the times and making it serve us in our life, instead of making it something apart. That is what I gathered from the lec- tures, but the exhibitions told another very interesting and si,gnificant story. They showed, for the most part, a well- organized system for carrying on the fundamental principles of art in design, crafts, painting, sculpture, and drawing. However, there was one very important exhibition in the Museum of Natural History which seemed to me to contradict much of what the lectures had led me to believe. Here, the work was extreme in every respect, in drawing, proportion, color, modernism, cubism and every other “ism. It was not pleasing or encour- aging to me, but perhaps I am conserv- ative in my views ; 1 come from a con- servative city. There may have been some purpose behind it ; perhaps it was an ex- periment. It lotJked like the doom of , rt to me. It might be compared to the work of some t)f the most independent of the Independents who exhibit at The Barn on Joy Street. I am interested to know how this e.xhibition affected the teachers who saw it. •At the Get-To.gether luncheon at the Pennsylvania Hotel the third day of the convention, we saw another interesting and very different type of exhibition. -Students from the - rt Centre were pres- ent, and during the course of events, one of the men at the head table was invited to name any subject he wished and these students would do their best to portray it in twenty minutes. At the end of the twenty minutes, they marched in, lK)lding their paintings, still dripping, before them. This was a very stimulating and wholesome exhibition. The subject was “Spring, ( it was fair and warm that day ) and there was no difficulty in discoverin.g .Spring in their work. These children were a talented group ranging from seven to eighteen years, and their work was more than in- spirational. The final event of the convention was the annual banquet and dance, and a beautiful affair it was. The grand ball- room of the hotel was decorated with flags, flowers for each member with their place cards at the tables, exegnsite evening gowns which reflected the training and tastes of the wearers, and an orchestra that almost made you forget your name. Now we are all home, have recovered our names, lost our money, and found inspiration. All we want is to go back again, — but how? Of course, the con- vention did not occupy our entire time in New York. W hat a kick we get to be able to say of a certain show which has just come to Boston. Oh. yes. I saw that when it was playing in New York. There ' s nothing like it ! I think, however, we all agreed that we ' d prefer to live in Boston and visit in New York. Now we ' ve seen the town and had time to recuperate, when do we go again? Trgixi. Starbird. Sculptural Decorations for The Netv School Tliose of our descendents who are privileged to witness the new art school in the full glory of its completion should be especially interested in the sculptural decorations now being executed by stu- dents of the old, original M. S. A. under the direction of Mr. Porter. The decorative scheme being used was designed by Mr. Porter and may be divided into two parts. -Surmounting the higher buttresses of the central tower are six colossal heads typifying six attributes of art. From left to right as one faces the tower they are as follows : Truth, with level eyes and seemingly from the .same mold as Beauty, who bal- ances ber on the far side of the tower, c.xcept that Beauty is of a more stylized form ; Power, a man of dominant mien and impressive intellectual force ; Inspiration, with broodin.g eyes and winged brow; Mysticism, a bead from the Orient, the mother of mysticism, a striking cobra suggests tbe sinister and lower form of imagination; Humor, a faun-like and joyous head with a touch of the whimsical and even the malicious. The second part of the decorative scheme consists of a group of gargoyle- like figures crowning the lower range of buttres-ses that surround the building. These figures are whimsical portraits of the gentlemen of the faculty. Each clutches in his hands a symbol in keep- ing with his personal tastes or abilities. - For example. Mr. Dallin holds an Indian mask, Mr. -Andrew a skull, Mr. Hoadley a swastika, and Mr. Farnum the fasces of authority. design utilizing a winged globe is being used to contrast and balance these grotesques. Early in the year a series of seated figures symbolizing the major activities of the school was designed and e.xecuted in one-quarter scale. These studies repre- sented sculpture, architecture, painting, design, drama, and knowledge. It was found, however, that the supporting but- tresses would be too small to accommodate these figures, and it is now planned to employ them in the interior decoration of the building. -Among the students whose work is to be perpetuated for tbe admiration of future inhabitants of M. S. A. are the following : Paul Winters, Eleanor Wilder, Helene Dauphinee, Eda Earle. Robert -Amendola, and Stephen A ' oeobowski of the modeling department ; John Phelps. Jeanne Harper, Roger Wolcott, Parker Lord, and Paul Quinn, members of the -Sophomore class ; Ernest Halberstadt, a Freshman; and Dorothy Thurlow and Lillian Burgoyne, alumnae. 6

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monument. In this sylvan atmosphere they again assembled for the camera, grouping themselves with accustomed ease. W ' hen they had rested, the Guide led off up the path which dipped and rose, turned a hit, and in its circuitous way, brought them finally, single file, to the crest of the hill where is the Holiest Ground. On this ridge in magnificent solitude is the last resting place of the great ones, the Emersons, Thoreaus, Hawthornes, Alcotts. Before the Em- erson lot the little caravan halted. Be- yond the tiny square the land dropped sharply off to the valley below. Here one might gaze for miles, the strength of the wind in his face; here one might sleep for an aeon, its susurrus his slumber song. Through the tall trees the wind spoke to them now, in its strong, fierce way, wrapping their bod- ies in coolness, touching them with a sudden, clean cold. It sang in their ears of the great ones, and the Guide answered hack in words. The pilgrim band moved on. The path led down in an erratic course which took them past the lovely, laurel- covered place where rests Thoreau, and by tlie other two, so that they found the old friends, as in life, gathered together. Back in the sunny street, they felt the difference, less of the wind, and more of mortal folk. They marched along in jovial haste, atuned once more to present century life, . t the center, they made a final visit to the fountain and assembled on the friendly seats about a tall old Concord elm to ' wait the bus. Here there was some miscalcula- tion and the bus came not. They waited quietly, glad of a chance to rest, while the Guide went forth on foot to find their errant steed. The tag-end of a lost parade approached and disband- ed, loosing half a hundred Boy Scouts in the ,s([uare. The Guide returned with a perple.xed look and no news. The pilgrims were amused. It was pleasant in the sun, let the bus delay; Imt then it came! The driver offered an excuse and they scrambled in. Bump- ily they trundled over the rough road to Walden Pond where they poured out again before a flourishing wayside stand. The Guide led off through the wood. They missed the path, but they could not lose the way. The Cairn was like a beacon burning. Straight on they came, in a snake-line line undulating over the rolling ground. A shout from the dis- coverers broke the line. From the crest of a little rise, they descended around the Cairn like a primitive tribe. Weather, and the sad work of unknow- ing hands had laid it low. Its original spire-like (piality was gone. In un- beautiful array, it scpiatted comfortably iu a leafy clearing, where, from its spire it must have gazed upon the lake. Still, it was dear to them. Even in its placidity was something of Thoreau. It marked the place where he had lived, and learned. Its content was his con- tent. It knew the things he knew. It looked on the same scenes; it dwelt in the same place. Had it been so they could, the pilgrims would have fallen to work and with their own hands re- stored it to its former shape. Gladly they would have raised its spire again, given it grace, but time for them was short. Much had they seen and done, and there was more to do. They went down to the pond and scanned its shores. They dipped their fingers at its edge and tried to imagine the echo of the loon across its surface. And very fervently a little few, with a peb- ble in each hand, because other devout souls before them had gleaned the shore at that point of sizeable stones, returned to the Cairn and deposited their gifts as all good followers should. So the Cairn grew, and so it grows, generously fed with small fry now where boulders were before. Reluctantly they left. The woods were sweet that afternoon. Their city noses sniffed the air in bliss. They lost the path again and this time it stayed lost. The road could not call them as the Cairn could. They plunged through the underbrush tearing their stockings, whipping their faces on back-swinging l)ranches. The sun, looking down, saw them, a scattered herd of little creat- ures. stumbling along, calling to each other, stopping to crush the dry sweet- fern in their hands, pinning it to their coats, sniffing it joyously. The sun smiled, and when they regained the road with their shoes full of pebbles and twigs, they felt their skins burning and looked anxiously at their noses in the glass at the front of the bus. So they rode on to Lexington, con- scious of the sun’s work but happy. Over endless rises they climbed past fair farms and spreading country homes. Even as their city feet had felt the change, so did the bus, for it was city- l red too. Accustomed to the even pavements, it wrestled valiantly with country hills which threatened defeat, and gradually it gained, but for a time they feared for its good lungs. It had a sorry time. Once up on even ground, they sped along with ease, and found themselves in time, in I-exington. At the old Tavern, they clustered around the Guide before the door. He told them, in his quiet wajq what things they would see. and what had held him most. Then they went in, the better prepared for the experience. In the first room, was a woman whose task it was to enlighten visitors as to the contents of the place. The lady knew her task. Her swift tongue told them all. Their poor heads jerked spasmodically, now to the shutters, now to the old Dutch tiles over the fire- place, back to the pictures on the wall, rested for a moment while the history of these was recounted, and then ro- tated agilely as they read the inscrip- tion on the banner which encompassed the room at the top. This last, which had been used on the occasion of La- fayette’s second visit to America in 1824. brought prickles of appreciation to their spines. Welcome, Lafayette, to the birthplace of American liberty.” They were allowed to go where they would, so long as they kept moving. In the next room they found an end- less assortment of colonial accessories, lanterns, candle molds, tools, arms, etc. They passed through a tiny room which had been someone’s study, into an annex in which were kept the most valuable relics. Here, they saw, behind glass doors, the drum which beat the stirring call at the battle of Here, too, were diaries and other let- ters in fine colonial script, which the more ambitious gamely tried to read. There were old uniforms, elaborately embroidered vests, and a three- cornered hat. This room held them the longest although it had more of a museum atmosphere than the room be- fore. At last they went on, through a bedroom with an old chintz-covered, canopied four-poster in which John Hancock, according to the label, did not sleep. Upstairs were other bed- rooms and a kind of attic in which they found a large loom, spinning gear, and several wooden cradles, some of such unusual size that they wondered if ba- bies of old were larger than in their later day. There was a need now to hurry; the Boston Elevated Bus was Boston bound; their day would soon be done. They went directly to the Green. In a sea of grass stood the Minute Alan, guarding the emblems of the first Thir- teen. A stiff breez flung them out and the sun sparkled on their folds. Like jewels they flashed against the white and the green. The pilgrims scuttled under the rope and came up inside the circle of flags. On the walk before the Minute Alan thej ' stopped and read the inscription on the base. They noticed especially the familiar old American names which appeared there, and also the church at the left expressing in its simple spire, the faith of their fore- fathers. .-A stranger joined the group, and went away the richer for his stay- ing. Children came past, playing at tag between the flag sticks. The sun was slipping lower. With a last gaze at the festive little Green, the pilgrims turned their backs on a memorable day; but hovering above the common- place to which they would return was the magic path of memory, and even as it ended, the journey was re-begun. Concord Revisited Alusic in the tall trees. Wind among the boughs. Like the sound of high seas Crashing from steep prows. Alusic in the high trees. Country fields ' laid wide. Like the silent smooth seas. When the gray gulls glide. Alusic in the high trees. The tempest roars, is gone. Space reminiscent breathes Great ,s])irits passing on. H. L. E. 5

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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