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

Text from Pages 1 - 72 of the 1946 volume:

Once again our nation has been highly instrumental in ending a World conflict. We have witnessed in this nation a material contribution and an aginations. One element of special interest to you and to me is the demonstration, during the War, of the intrinsic value of art or the use of visual methods in communicating ideas. Greater knowl- edge has been given to more people and an understanding of a more com- plete range of subjects has been made possible through techniques such as motion pictures, photography, me- chanical and exploded drawings, paintings of the fine art category and even comic strips. We are a part of a visual minded generation. Now, as never before, social eco- nomical problems are challenging American ingenuity, education, indus- try and democracy. The visual tech- niques and art stimulation growing out of our War experiences can con- tinue and be highly instrumental in solving our many problems. The Administration and the Fapulty of the Massachusetts School of Art are fully cognizant of the challenges which lie ahead. Our service to you has been and will continue to be the outgrowth of a desire to provide the best possible training. organizational unity which have far surpassed our most complete Im- For four years you have been together here, as a unit, able, through the strength of your numbers, to face, bravely and confidently, the world ' s attitude toward art. Now you are to go out Individually to face that same attitude, and you will miss, somewhat, that strength of numbers, for It is Inevitable, that, sooner or later, you will stumble over that always existing, serious obstacle known under its own loudly proclaimed identification as the practical man. You will find that this practical man will pop out at you In many circum- stances to Insist that this Is his world and that you are In it only through sufferance. In adjusting yourself to this situation you must be careful not to do two things; you must not allow your- self to be overwhelmed by his arguments, so as to lose sight of your objectives and you must not shrink from all contact with him and retire to sulk In an Ivory tower. The practical man can get along without you, you cannot get along without him, yet to a large extent his destiny is In your hand. Because this sounds para- dox leal I would like to make It clear. If we could Isolate a group of practical men and insulate them completely from art and all Influence of art and return In something like a thousand years to see how they fared, we would find that they had survived, but were doomed to a static existence under a relentless dictatorship of unimaginative day by day necessities. And if we could, then, suddenly reln- ate the Influence of art Into that group, so that here a man would start to dream a little, and there one would lift his head In song and another to write poetry and still another put on canvas the mystery of the light in the sky and on the earth about him and catch some- thing of the spirit of longing and wonderment In his fellow ' s faces; then the quality of living would start to bubble up and Imagination would range ahead to point out possibilities for the practical man to develop. But lest the knowledge of this power Impress you overmuch with the sense of your own Importance, re- member, that If you reversed the experiment; that Is, Isolated a group of artists from all contact with the practical man, and went back In something less than a thousand years, you would fall to find them — - they would be extinct. So much does actual living de- pend upon practicality. The practical man Is both your friend and your enemy and you must learn to realize his Importance to you and that his very Indifference and antagonism make an abrasive upon which to keep your sensitivities keen. It requires a certain roughness to produce a refined surface. And yet for your own peace of mind you must be able to answer his taunts as to the futility of art; not so much to refute his arguments as to keep your own resolutions clear. It is true. Indeed, that In times of Im- pending catastrophe — such as war — people seem to turn away from art but It Is also true that they turn toward the things which have been fostered by art. Is patriotism, for Instance a practical thing? How was It built up, if not by song and story and pictured symbols into a powerful and moving force which leads men to perform beyond their common habits. It Is true, again, that the birth rate of great artists Is extremely low, but It is equally true that the mortality rate of great art is much lower. For somehow the world has learned to pro- tect Its masterpieces and in times of war displays the utmost concern and consideration as to their safekeep- ing because men know that art contains the Ingredients of civilization, so that. If all else Is destroyed. In these pictures, all compact, are contained nobility of state- ment, breadth of vision, elements of law and order with which to build anew. Let he who will, cry Impractical at the artist. We accept the term. No doubt art Is Impractical, but It works on practical things, shaping and nourishing them, as water does the land, and the question is not which Is the more Important — the practical or the Imprac- tical — the water or the land — but how weak either one would be without the other — and how dreary. Without the practical man the artist would be help- less, but without the artist the world would be hopeless. Cincinnatus, relinquishing the duties of acting President to turn again to his teaching . . . white-haired with a benign look and a glinting wit . . . deceptively soft spoken, his words are sometimes edged . . . tolerant and sapient, philosophic always and wide- minded, he administers encouragement and sympathy, or a goad to spur, in just the right dosage. He expends time and attention on each one of us as though our innumerable difficulties were of con- sequence. His is a remarkable otherness. In the different world into which we will soon be assimilated we will remember Mr. Phllbrick saying that art is not distilled from art, that ugliness is essential for balance, and that life, even as it is, is good. Have you ever lain awake on a late February night when a thaw has come suddenly? There is a promise of rain. Outside, the leaf-mold is deep, and damp to its very core, and in the shells of foot prints pressed into the mud, the leaves are black and oily. Everything sweats. Tipped against the street light, tree branches raise a mesh, rosy where the buds hide dormant. The world around is a sponge saturated to its limit. It oozes, it bubbles. The soft crackle of expanding, bursting moisture breathes in at your window. Down below, the street is a broken mirror dropped beside the salt marsh. Behind its fence the meadow lies waiting in the night. Then a car rackets along from town, over the brow of the hill and past the dark blot of the sea and the land. As that car shatters the peace of the meadow, so concern shatters the eternal waiting within, rattling brash and noisy down your mind. Like that car, it is as soon and as simply gone. You are tied to the world inescapably, but just at this moment time is noth- ing. There are no train tickets, collected each day, chopped four times and stuck in the back of the next seat, visible reminder that another day of your last year is gone. No more two-day packs of cigarettes that refuse to stretch to a week and make bearable life on the allowance plan. No, no time. Instead the dateless memories that are a habit in your life come back — they seem to have had no beginning and should have no end. You think of the secrets told to seven or eight individually, you laugh at how the elements of the class dispose themselves on any subject, you squirm at the balance between work done and undone. Then you remember the warm black glue of etching ink and the unholy smell of egg-oil-emulsion tempera, the acid stains, ink smears, and stiffened dungarees. The mess of it followed by the blessed cleanness should never end. Tonight they won ' t, so you roll over and sleep. LYDIA MONGAN President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Margaret Oberti Sally Brine Helen Hatzilambrou Eleanor O ' Shea Banded together by a brace of easels, the D.P. ' s brandish their palette knives (apologies to Irving) with erring skill, sometimes brought to rein only by Mr. Philbrick ' s quizzical expression or well-chosen quip. They sit and stand pale but strong, shadowed behind the bizarresque of their own canvasses. If painting has a double entendre, they achieve it, tor conversation pieces and color effect are running mates, perhaps to the sacrifice of the latter after a week end. They help each other, like each other and shout each other down . . . ' til at an impasse. They are a class of sorts. As ' to the future, no overstatement — anything can happen! Nancy Noyes [A. Dorothy Bellefleur The girl with the El Greco face and the key to the School Store. Who else could look saintly passing out strontium yellow chromate? • Eleanor O ' Shea With a voice like silk jersey . . . delicately and In well seasoned femininity she strolls, paints and chats. ' ■ f:. Elko Matsubara Diminutive and re- strained, she still is so adept at the spoken word she will never let the D.P ' s. R.I.P. Elko and Dot share a genuine enthusi- asm for Music particular- ized in Chopin. • Barbara Phelps A woman apart who has al- ways been and will be her own self magnificently. With- out fanfare, Barb makes com- ment on the subject at hand, never falling to be worthwhile. • Robert Stevenson Stevie disentangles his legs to stand 6 ' ... a tall thin bottle of dry, dry ale with a burnt orange head . . . earnest, aware, with finely pointed sensibilities and a wit properly un- prim . . . the power be- hind the D.P ' s. and the only male In the class (B.Z., that is) . . . and may we say — a painter. • Ruth Fitzgerald She is bisector par excel- lence of the human phy- siognomy. However, that is only an idlosyncracy of Ruth ' s when she makes one of her beautifully polished drawings. • Helen Gulnan Puckish transplant from Ro- chester, she has the unbeliev- able strength of an Ivy vine. She has the power to per- meate; what Is more, she can render the Ubangi (female), O D and May Stevens In turn without grinding her gears. V • Lydia Mongan Charm and poise and grace . . . deft line and subtle color , . . equipped with an incom- parable parlor trick, she squeezes her mobile features into a lemon-face . . . liquid, laughing and sympathetic . . . these are Lydia. • Mary Resnick Tall, with a beautiful face behind blue - rimmed glasses — friendly, sensi- tive, modest without rea- son . . . unerring instinct for color . . . watercolqrs that we all can feel, but only Mary can paint . . . and that red, red beanie. • Irving Zusman Strong, silent, studious, serious, solid . , . but Oh you kid! • Elizabeth Sanborn Well balanced . . . Like any woman she works hard to hide her efficient, capable and practical sides . . . thus showing real intelligence! The do- decahedron personality, she is a happy, healthy houri. onions • Nancy Noyes Hamburger and sauted In perfume at the Oxford Street Apartment . . . the waveringly sung love ballads that reduced us to howling wrecks . . . then ' the clothes, the de- signs, the fantastic, trem- ulous line drawings. • May Stevens Wittingly charming, candid, complex; listen to her talk — for two or three years — and you will know the girl. V ' t . t. ' • Constance Durland Volatile, dark, warm and yet a terrific technician . . . such an amazing way to strike a balance . . . Kitten with the claws . . . what will she be when she grows up? Hey Crunk? As the wheel goes round so we go. We ' ve struggled to evolve completely and having done so, arrive at the beginning once more. This time how- ever the goal Is not a diploma. What It Is, only the Individual may say. We ' ve reluctantly aban- doned our delusions of grandeur. No longer are we trying to reform the public ' s taste. Instead we shall capitalize upon It as we compete with pre- vailing conditions. Realists, yes — cynics, no. In- disputable facts have barged In on our compla- cency and left us with one leg to stand on. The prop we lost was one of starry-eyed Idealism. The one left Is made up of practical skills and Ideas wrapped up In four ply Strathmore. RozzI Strong • Nancy McKenna Smart ideas and practical skills go hand In hand with a pair of smil- ing blue eyes and a sense of hu- mor to match ... a friendly grin and an Infectious laugh and an In- satiable taste for a cup of coffee at rest period . . . which combina- tion makes our gal Nancy. • Andre Paquette Andy ' s quite a guy ... he likes coffee, and he likes his airbrush and he likes his wom- en and we like him. He knows the art racket through and through. Self - confidence without conceit . . . Indepen- dent and as hard as nails . . . tries to cover up a kind heart. • Rosamond Strong Harlequin glasses . . . bangs . . . the Voice plus dramatic verve. Expounder of Kittry Pint and lover of singing com- mercials which come forth at VERY odd moments! Keen mind . . . literature . . . music, especially Gilbert and Sullivan . . . a rare and wonderful gal. • Mary McCabe Vivaciousness, emphasized by a pert nose, curly black hair and a tongue that moves with rapid-fire speed. Willing doer of any odd job . . . sympa- thetic and helpful. If vt • Marlon Donovan Self possessed and reserved young lady one minute ... a silly child with an Irish humor the next . . . Feets is an interesting paradox . . . serious and sedate — yet gay and trifling . . . she likes coffee, too. • Jean Brooks Ouija boards, astrology and spir- itual goings on, a gay good morn- ing and spontaneous dance steps . . . terrific designs passed in with an apologetic remark, and . . . let ' s have a cigarette ... all add up to Beanie who is an enigmatic sprite. • Marion Mentz Well groomed . . . poised pos- sessor of an unerring sense of taste touched with the exotic . . . able to laugh at herself and ap- preciate others — lucky Marion. rv • Dorothy Deane Dotty ' s New England soul and artist ' s heart make an unbeat- able partnership, and she uses them to good advantage in producing designs subtly modern with a traditional technique. Like the Ipswich clams from her home town, she is unpretentious and quiet on the surface, with a salty wit and wisdom when she opens up at unexpected mo- ments. Calm, cool, collected . . . belled by Let ' s do something exciting drawled In a voice slow and smooth as molasses . . . tiny waist, thick glossy hair, and big baggy pocketbooks — originals of course . . . Add a touch of whimsy and you have Marie. • Margery Luty Here ' s our sophisticate from Harper ' s Bazaar with a flair for Chinese dragons and Chinese fashions, and a knack of always knowing the right comeback. She ' s a connoisseur of the U. S. Marine Corps and can wield an effective line, both in drawing and other- wise. • Marilyn Werby We ' ve formed the I Appre- ciate Wormy club in recog- nition of her biting sarcasm, frankness and good humor . . . her sophisticated Ma- donna face, and her work often witty, often otherwise, but always original. • Charles Walkup Charlie started brightening our formerly strickly feminine class in September, and has been doing it ever since. One man song and dance team . . . unique way of putting words to-gether. • Gloria Levaggi Never without earrings or her quick wit that creeps in at odd moments . . . or that something that some- body else always forgets ... or that snack at rest period. Gloria is a hard worker and a loyal friend. nineteen ©■ Into our hands have passed the reins — to us has been entrusted the guidance of the youth of today — the future citizens of tomorrow. It is our responsi- bility to develop in them the power to express their lives more fully, more richly. It is our responsibility to awaken in them the ideals, spirit, aspirations, giving significance and purpose to their being. To us has been given the privilege and honor of work- ing with that material more precious than gold — the human personality. Aristotle has said: Those who teach well are more to be honored than even their parents, for these only give life, those the art of living well. This is our trust. We are proud — we are grateful. To our teachers who have equipped us for this task we are deeply Indebted. Their words and phil- osophies will be our guldeposts In our walk through life. Florinda Conforti • Barbara Chase The Indefinable something that adds lustre to a sparkling per- sonality . . . talented, versatile, modern as a Pall Mall . . . soul of a poet . . . President of the Stu- dent Association . . . our All- American Girl . . . Bobi is one of our favorite people. • Dorothy Nelson Household furnishings . . . Dick . . . menus ... oh, yes, and school make up the conversational trends of this re- cently married girl of Scandinavian heritage. She haunts A6 and does her lesson plans on the side . . . rare re- marks on anything in general. • Jim Kearney Serious painter and lover of the FINE arts (Paul Klee, Jim?) . . . our giant 1 ' ' i Casanova hisself . . . man of brawn and owner of Seven League Foots. • David Berger Manager of the School Store and Info Man on artists ' materials . . . subtle humor, but that RED wall, Dave! Earn- est endeavors In the field of painting . . . life saver of the Senior T. T. ' s. • Margaret Oberti Our Class President. She leads, not shouting her powers But In a calm, purposeful way Quietly directs and leads, as dawn the coming day. • Carmen Clemente 6 tt. ... eyes ot blue . . . that is when they are open . . . Carmen floated through approximately twenty years at Mass. Art, and finally ended up In the class of ' 46. We were glad to have him. • Betty McCrealy Quiet in a gentle way, Her work Is always done. Her manner calm, her laugh ter gay. She ' s steady as the sun. • Florinda Conforti She ' s small, she ' s pert. She ' s quiet but alert — Another Teacher Trainer. Florinda of the deep brown eyes Looking at our world — weary wise. • Carol Peeling Clothes, clothes, and MORE clothes, just whipped up last night! Elec- tric personality carried out by the clatter of those high heels. Where are you going NOW? m-- 4 • Helen Hatiilambrou Pocket-book edition, bound in chartreuse and blu-grey, she looks at the world thru rose-rimmed glasses, quite striking with her midnight black hair and bangs . . . those swish, unique dresses. A philosophic think- er . the owner of an envied accent . . . our Hotshot, conqueror of the Ivory and black keys. • Paul LIcht The perpetual Mass. Art student, Paul spends his weekdays bouncing through the halls of M. S. A. — or maybe It ' s the halls that bounce . . . result of his weekends In New York? • Robert Filbln Tall, dignified, our musically minded art student. Bob ' s personality is hard to de- fine, but It is there in spurts of wisdom on teaching and housekeeping. r 1 ' r%T ° ’Z To ' ' � ' ' ■ ' Vv r. ' ' ' ■f i Ue {fifuU° ' ' « r r:C - - ° ;t;arep - - r;„ « “ ' ' ' tr-e � ' ° ' ' H“ ' « ' ' ° ' ' ' ’’S ' ' ' ” “ ' ' “ ' s Ccr-V O X -We4«. SOUTHERN SUMMER Heat lightning flashes across a sultry sky And summer has come to the southland. Summer . . . The morning sun comes up like fire And burns a pathway through the sky. The grass withers . . . the trees droop . . . And every living thing becomes dry; Human bodies, human minds . . . Dry as dust. Comes a wind from the gulf . . . The corn rattles like old bones . . . The sugar cane sighs . . . A green tidal wave . . . moving. Yet Immovable. The farmer looks towards the sky For a dark cloud, Hopefully . . . But no sign. The wind blows on; One day . . . two days . . . three days . . . And on . . . Until one begins to curse the wind. Wish that it had never come. If we don ' t have rain We can ' t save the corn . . . If we don ' t have rain There won ' t be much sugar this year . . . If we don ' t have rain . . . The mournful dirge begins. (V ere A Cof ® spe® f 3 ' ' no ' ee i , o‘ CV ' 3 ® When suddenly as it has come The sighing wind dies . . . And an ominous blackness Spreads out over the sky Blotting out the sun. All eyes lift skyward Expectantly . . . And then . . . the rain begins to fall; At first gently . . . then faster, faster, faster. Until the air is silver. The earth greedily devours the droplets As they fall, And as if nurtured by the rain Human hearts and minds are filled With an overflowing joyousness. Robert Filbin JUNE TEMPEST Icy blu-white hills Blend along the horizon. Leaves of near-by trees Slip into a coat of lacquer As myriads of perpendicular silver threads Enclose them. A hint of thunder in his blu-grey cloak Slinks along the western horizon While lightning lures him on, Subtly fluttering her eyelids Or accenting the negative land- scape With startling, angular movements Wading to the climax of the summer love. Barbara Ann Chase Through Kenmore and two years at M.S.A. we arrive at the station bestowed on us by tradition as Dignified Juniors . Since tradition is to be respected but not neces- sarily followed, we must confess we are not — ah — Digni- fied . We are — contrast! — individuals, theatricalists, philosophers, appreciators, specialists, and jazz fiends. These qualities were gained by perseverance and spirit during the years just left. The experience of being in our school while it scrambled back on its feet after the toss the war gave, can never be overshadowed or forgotten — we are grateful . . . Our future is our fortune! Look at the opportunities: fields opened by war-time science — reconstruction possi- bilities, — contributing in the peace and security we hope will come — and Bless Us! the Veterans . . . It ' s no wonder we are not dignified. class of President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Helene Rones Eleanor Davis Alice Coolidge Anne Coggin In the rosy light of last year ' s attitudes, our Sophomore year was to have been an experience through which we would become veritable para- gons of sophistication and worldly glamour, sud- denly Imbued with great amounts of savoir falre. Our Ideas would be the newest, our vision the greatest, and our conversation the deepest: we were soon to be the grand masters of life and art. And now, the year has come and has nearly gone, and we are chastened. Whatever bit of finish we and our work have acquired is but the natural result of a year ' s practice, for we have found little time for superficialities. To our sur- prise, we have discovered that success is consti- tuted by a great deal more than a theory, and an idea by more than a thought. We began to see our values, literal and figurative, in a clearer light, with more attention to the subtler relationships. We knew, too, that this was our year of decision — our time to make the stroke a little bolder. To teach, to design, or to paint was the question of the moment. We worried a little, and thought a little, investigated a little, and changed our minds a little. We did what we considered right, and now we can only hope a little. So we have done for two of our years, and so we shall do for the two re- maining — our best, and then a bit of hoping. We have come to the crossroads: what we make or do now is in our own hands. Dorothy Weafer President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Vincent Sinclair John Robinson Aldora Roach Donna Brown (jO.deuoi. Dream my dear And you shall hear The angels whisper In your ear Sweet words — to-night. Smile my child And so my arms Shall keep your dreams From any harm Or hurt — this night. Slumber on And with the dawn You shall forget That dreams are gone So soon — with night. Sleep my sweet And I shall weep That soon you ' ll find I cannot keep You safe — at night. Marion Dowling LULLABY Sleep my sweet And I shall keep My arms about you Deep dark — of night. It all started that day, now so long past, when hoards of high school seniors tramped through the hallowed halls of Massachusetts ' famous art school. We were greeted and told that this day might be the beginning of a wonderful career. Although all who were here that day are not here now, those of us who made it are truly grateful for that blessing. Our first impression left us rather bewildered for we found so many new peo ple and new things . . . new ways of traveling . . . and all that homework! It took us a few weeks to get used to it. After the harrowing experiences of freshman week were over, however, we settled down to becoming a studious and talented class. We outnumbered all the other classes, even at the beginning of the year, and, since there is safety in numbers, we held our own. Gradually our numbers have increased. First a handful, then more and more veterans came to join us in our struggles. They have, as everyone knows, added a great deal to the success of our work, and they have proven that we really needed them all along. We all think it is grand to have them here. Since we are almost Sophomores now, we can look back and smile at those first weeks here, and think — pity the poor children who will enter M.S.A. next semester! MARY COOPER The Ostrich feathered Becomes quite weathered Just stretching his neck. I wish he would find in the sand A Remington Rand Or a rubber band — for me. Something new and different was added in February of 1946 to M. S. A. ' s student body; Veterans of World War II. There were those fortunate enough to step right back into their original courses starting where they left off several years ago. The special course for Vets, however, is an innovation created for those having had no previous training, or who, although returners, could not enter their old course in mid-year. It is an interesting and varied program enabling us to gain the feel of the mediums, and our subjects include oil painting, water color, modeling, design and color study. We are taking advantage of the G. I. Bill of Rights for various reasons. For some of the older Vets, it is the chance of a life time for that dream to come true. Others of us found ourselves in the army, and with it came the urgent desire for further education. For all of us it is a thrill to be free to follow our urges once again. We have all learned the value of education and in a spirit of they shall not have died in vain we are the living — carrying on. LOUIS CALNEK In April of 1943 President Rey- nolds took a leave of absence in order to work overseas with the Red Cross. He served with the American Red Cross as Club Director attached to Services to the Armed Forces, and later as Field Representative for Civilian War Relief attached to Allied Military Government. He re- turned to us in November 1945. Since then his unfailing diligence and attention to every possible op- portunity that might advance the school have cheered our prospects greatly. Welcome back, Mr. Rey- nolds. In those first confused days when school life lacked a little in coher- ency, Miss Murray ' s interpretations of the problem of orientation set the mark. Highly-geared efficiency, precision planning and a natural bent for or- ganization made smooth the way for our school activities. Dean Murray ' s educational back- ground was founded at Radcliffe and Harvard. She has served as Dean at Cambridge High and Latin Schools, as member of the Board of Examiners for College Entrance and of the Massachusetts Advisory Board of Education. • Mr. Allen Confidential talks with philosophi- cal overtones, psychological un- dertones . . . Chinese art, ancient . . . plastic design, modern . . . shrewd business man and progres- sive teacher. • Mr. Thompson Tommie ' s rectangular wrinkles crease brow and temples in reced- ing waves. Is it hope, despair or just plain bemusement that leaves his forehead corrugated? • Mr. Kupferman Psychology firmly applied is Mr. Kupferman ' s Leitmotif. As far as the class is concerned, the re- sponses to this are varied, but the commonest is, I didn ' t know I had that in me! • Mr. Brown With sly humor and in the most practical way, Mr. Brown points out our architectonic weaknesses and broadens our appreciation of Architecture. • Mr. Cain Exponent of the laws of per- spective . . . lines, vanishing points and tracing paper . . . always most courteous and considerate. r o • Mr. Hoadley Good humored ... an authority on dynamic symmetry . . . ma- gician extraordinary . . . Mr. Hoadley has an Inexhaustible fund of information on every conceiv- able subject. • Miss Nye A woman of MUCH atomic energy, she struggles to guide the right kind of art education for the too near future. • Mr. Jones Life is strange, Jeremy said. As compared to what? said the spider. • Mr. Gavin For judicious discussion and a rea- sonable approach Mr. Gavin is the man. Tnen, too, he has a nice, fresh sense of humor and the pow- er to express it. • Miss Munsterberg In The Summing Up by Somer- set Maugham there is a sentence that begins to express a feeling close to Miss Munsterberg ' s heart. Tradition is a guide and not a jailer. • Miss Phillips Master of all crafts and pottery — with all those different kinds of clay . . . Miss Phillips, herself, be- ing a porcelain figurine. • Mr. Porter His opinions are cast in the finest bronze . . , full bodied, brown,, strong, enduring and just as mutable. • Mr. O ' Donnell A remarkable figure, he wields his wit with a flourish — outrageous criticisms heavy with satire and literary allusion. • Mr. Phllbrick The unanimous opinion of those who have begun to know him ap- pears on our Dedication page. • Miss Kendrick Brilliant personality . . . devotee of Bach . . . another recent ad- dition to the faculty. • Mrs. Whittet Our patient librarian, ever ready with deft first-aid tor faints and feints, and cut fingers and sundry problems. O fiddle-dee-dee. f • Mrs, Green Smartly dressed newcomer . . . constantly exhorting us to dress for class . . . relater of weekly bul- letins from the fashion world. • Miss Lennon Ever vivacious and enthusiastic . . . working under her direction puts new sparkle and incentive into your art-life. ® Mr. Demetropolis Efficient as an I.B.M. product yet tolerant of human failings peculiar to Art students. ® Miss Sheehan There is a good rate of interest on the exchange between English and Art, We have something to share. • Mr. Corsini Blessed, or at least backed by a storeroom stocked like The Old Curiosity Shop with bottles, ducks and an odd squash or two . . . Mr. Corsini whiles away bleak winter hours setting up still-lifes so we can break them down again. p p p To Mr. Thompson for his practical knowledge that culled a yearbook out of our ideas and for his wisdom that showed us how, without ever letting us lean too much. To Mr. O ' Donnell for his taste and connoisseurship that kept us away from the unimaginative and the unsound. To Mr. Philbrick for his kindness and cooperation and for his in- spiration. To Miss Sheehan for her guiding rein on literary matters. To Nancy Noyes and Rosamond Strong for aiding and abetting the Year Book Staff. To Andy Paquette, Life-Saver of the Year Book Staff. To all the classes and all the students because so many have contributed in some way to the making of this book. We have tried to make an annual that would mean something not only to the seniors, but to every individual here at M. S. A. We have tried to make a book that would interest everybody from the greenest freshman to the most exacting graduate — who expects a lot of His Class Yearbook. This has been one of our first actual, and certainly our most tangible, creative ventures. It is a good feeling to create something that will be used today and looked back on tomorrow. We hope that those who see this book will feel the same pleasure we have felt in creating it. May Stevens Editor. Nancy McKenna Art. Lydia Mongan Literary. Jean Brooks Publicity. 163 DARTMOUTH ST quality- CH LU S to cn 9 o o 5 i;! LJ —I o ox CO cc: LJ I — HRTFIELDS COLOR • SHOP ARTIST’S-MATERIALS nmicmy prints palntlnqs reproductions picture frcimlnq 155 STUART STREET, BOSTOM � AaNY a.MA S. MW I 0l0� 6l 5 1’ • 35 HIGH STREET • BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS • PHONE afhii’X we ify eewroer ' Y 2 607 t O T A I RUtAIR CIMINT FltX-O-TATE DRAFTING MATIRIAIS SIGN WRITERS ' SURRIIES PICTURE FRAMING ■ ZIP-A-TONI CONTAK SHADING FILM CRAFTINT DOURIE-TONE ROARD SCS££H