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

Page 20 text:

DON’T BELIEVE IT I turn out paintings day by day Whose value one must doubt; But if they have one spot that’s good, A frame will bring it out. Included in my repertoire Is many a clever notion. But who cares that for craftsmanship So long’s I have emotion! Oh color subtleties, beware! From cadmiums to umber. My major joy I find in you. All swathed in a penumbra. Some day I’ll teach a lot of kids And cheer if they’re excessive. I’ll let them paint just any way And make the trend progressive I’ll wrap a turban ’round my head And draw birds’ wings with chalk. And with dynamic symmetry I’ll show folks how to walk. Now instrumental in my art Will always be this thought: That I have learned in four years’ time To draw a freehand dot. Goodbye, Mass. Art, adieu, adieu; We join the worldly mobs. We’ll all be happy pretty soon. But first, please find us jobs. ARTHUR COPPLESTONE

Page 19 text:

Hadar was very much astonished, though you never would have guessed it. He looked just as though a coffee bean jinni was no novelty to him. “I wish to go to the festival at Hijaz on a beautiful white horse.” You never will believe this. I can’t believe it, and I was there. (Oh, hidden, of course, behind a gum tree.) Yema began to grow whiter and whiter. At first Hadar thought he must have eaten too much of the sweet grass, but then his tail began to grow. A long and beautiful tail it was, and quite an improvement, too. Strangest of all, Hadar gasped to see, right there on Yema’s shoulders were two little wings. They looked suspiciously like ostrich feathers, but Hadar didn’t mind. He liked ostriches well enough. As for the strange little man, he was gone. Hadar removed the coffee bean from his mouth and polished it. Then he put it in his upper left-hand inside pocket and mounted his beautiful horse. With a happy shout they were off. Yema’s nose pointed straight to Hijaz. And Hadar’s hand lovingly clutched his upper left-hand inside pocket. He was a very hap py boy. And Yema was a very blissful ex-mule. RUTH K. DOHERTY ??? I wonder As I’m torn asunder By this and that And under The spell of all this talk Of art and education. If someone hasn’t made A blunder In letting me study Here — I wonder. GERTRUDE MAXIM

Page 21 text:

500th ANNIVERSARY OF PRINTING As I crossed the lobby of the Hotel Stotler and made my way up the stairs, Mr. Palmstrom’s compelling words still echoed in my ears: This is a really great event; none of you can afford to miss it.” He was referring to the exhibit occasioned by the five hundredth anniversary of Gutenberg’s development of movable types, and as I followed the arrows which led me to the Georgian Room, I felt a tremor of anticipation. I strode through the entrance and headed for the far wall, for there is something contrary in my nature which makes me want to look at exhibits backwards — just as some people must peek at the last page of a book before they can proceed to enjoy the story. But I hadn’t reckoned with that most celebrated of printed books, the “Gutenberg Bible.” A rare replica, it rested on a small table and compelled every passerby with all the authority and effectiveness of a red light to stop and look. This first important printed book resulted only after Gutenberg had spent almost twenty years in patiently making improvements on early experiments with movable type. What sat isfaction in seeing his invention spread throughout a hun- gry, awakened Europe — setting powerful new forces in motion! Be- cause of his genius we have books, newspapers, and magazines; we are educated, inspired, and entertained. With a lingering, almost reverent look, I left the Gutenberg Bible” and found myself standing before a model of the Stephen Daye