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

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Chkslie D’Andkea Khank Devecis James Dx ' gan John FALLf)Ni Meyer ( ioLDSTElN WiLLlAM KaPOUSOUZ STEPHEN MaNIATTY HeNHyXeUNZER Walter Roberts Max Singer Adolph Willis BASKETBALL Despite the setbacks to which the athletic teams of Art Schools are spei ial heirs, the M.S.A. basketball team has had a season which holds more promise than its achievements would indicate. Of the three major ames played, it has won one and lost two. It was defeated by the well-organized Y.M.( ' .. . Senators, a team which has been together for .several years, by a close margin. It met defeat at the hands of the Massachusetts State Junior Champions, whose playing clearly showed why they were champions. In the last game the team defeated the Maplewood Five of Malden, composed of former high .school stars. . t the beginning of the season (’oach Scott had but four veterans answering his call. The fact that much of the new material is comixi.sed of lower cla.ssmen is an encouraging fact ; the leavening of these men with .several years ahead of them will enable future M.S.. . basketball teams to play noteworthy basketball. Frank Devecis, ’,‘J4 ORCHESTRA Music and Art join hands to fulfill the cherished plan of Dean Wilder, ami once more an orchestra has been organized. riie M.S.A. orchestra, organized with the assistance of Jean Jacob and under the direction of Lawrence K. llayford, R.Mus., a graduate of the College of Music of Boston University in 1!).‘5;2, made its initial bow at the Christmas festival, and its formal debut on February at a joint concert by the M.S.A. Chorus and Orchestra. Lawhe.nce K. Haykord The Personnel Includes: l.si Violins Jean Jacob Stanley W. Cook Eugenia Concordia Eleanor Dow Flute Christina Meade Cornel Walter Hlessington Piano Mailiokie E. Carr 2nd I ' iolins Mary Shaw Jean . ' shaw ' Cello Mary J. Hill Clarinet Everett Nash Mellophone Walter Roberts Percussion Richard E. Priest

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“Children playing at kings and (pieens are one tiling. Harharic people.s dancing for good liarve.sts or good hunt- ing are another. Neither constitutes drama. The ritual dance is presentational, hut not repre.sentational . Drama begins when an ordered succession of actions, with appropriate words, considre to represent experience real or imagi- nary, and impersonation is added to action. Theatre begins when there is a recognized place for drama.” T. W. Stev ' ENs; The Theatre, From Athens to Broadway 27

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MONOLOGUE 1’la( k: li-7 ' l iMp;: !):0.) on a Tuesday morning ( ' iiAHA( TKUs: I’rsa Major, (’anis Major, and an invisible and indefinite numher of little piteliers with large pietnres. (Caiti.s Major is wandering aliout between the easels looking for unguarded [jieces of charcoal. I ' r.sa Major stands in the middle of the room gazing intently in the general direction of the door. The little pitchers lurk in a state of suspended animatioti l ehind their portfolios with their ears all a-quivcr.) Tr.sa Major; (in a tone of linrt snrpri.se to ernitty-lianded new arrival) “Why, Phoehe, are you come so .soon? Where are your Iterries, chihi?” (in- credulously) Down.stairs! Oh, naughty, naughty! (resignedly) Well, don’t run through the corridors (turning around, his hands thrust deep in his pock- ets). Bring them u[), bring them up. — No, I (ion’t like it; it doesn ' t amu.se me. Tear a piece off the Itottom and tack it on the top. Kind a more amusing atti- tude for the man. liring up .some more. — Yes, they had a very wonderful |)erformance of “Hamlet ” once. Hamlet was left out. (iet that? Where ' s the hor.se, the beautiful white horse? W hat do you mean by leaving out the hor.se? Huh? Huh? That f)ush, yes, I know that l)u.sh, — device No. ()748. I even know the number. I’ve l)een .seeing it ever since I was knee high to a lame duek. It’s always down in front like the Harvard student in armour while Sarah Beridiardt was up in back saying, “ lark .Vntoine, Mark .Vntoine” to a l)eautiful man. (bady in yellow shivers like the stage-.struck Harvard student as her attempt is cast on the table). — What’s that man doing? “Here, Maria, take the sandwiches.” No! What’s the matter with yon? He’s su|)posed to be making love to her! Stand on your head, daughter, stand on your head! Shut your eyes and look at it! Here I give you a perfectly beautiful subject with a [)erfectly beautiful white horse, and a faery’s daughter leaning forward and making sweet moan to a knight; and you give me a farmer who’s been eating ramrod .sou|)! (raising voice) Shut up, the old man’s talking! What the — , what the — , I mean what the dickens! Always .say “the dickens”. How do they get that way? ( ' ome here, Minook, don’t flirt with the girls. You know, I like dogs; they’re intelligent. Here I go all the way to Europe and bring back beautiful photographs to show you when I could have them up in my own studio, and you don’t ever look at them. Two or three hundred years ago I used to spend all my spare time in the (’orcoran .Vrt (iallery. I come uj) here and try to teach you something — the trouble is I do too much for you. Here, look at this, come up all of you. No, don’t look at that, you’ll get indigestion. I think this is the most beautiful, most con- summate piece of art in the world. Get down on your knees, you savages, and worship. Tones, tones, now give me tones like that. There goes the bell. Cio, get your water, mes enfants. Oh, liello mon cher, come in. Martha Burnham, ’85