Newark School of Fine and Industrial Art - Fawcett Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

Page 27 text:

COSTUME DESIGN “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.” What a furore that saying has always created! But today we freely assert that the woman who is well-dressed has a right to be vain. She must have taste and discrimi- nation, combined with an expert knowledge of color and design. The costume of today demands a highly-developed, selective ability. Materials, colors, and accessories must be so combined as to create a perfect ensemble. A knowledge of color and design as ap- plied to dress should be acquired by every woman as a highly im- portant part of her education. In line of professional costuming, the ability to portray an idea is of the greatest aid in working out a design. Sketching, rendering in color, and working in various mediums are a part of the training of the well-equipped professional dress-creator.

Page 26 text:

THE MAN WHO HEARD THE BLACKBIRD’ A Folk Story OD ELIM of the woods was both solitary and silent, and for all that was known about him, he might have been the wisest or the most foolish of men. Never a word was he known to waste in talk, as though he was saving all his thoughts for some reason or no reason at all—and as he had no faults, his friend Duric of the Bogs, who had as much curiosity as a cat and just as much patience, tried to find out if he had any virtues. Felim lived on the ridge of a hill in a house that was neither large nor small, but it had one door, four windows and a spacious hearth and that's plenty for any- one who knows the difference between too much and enough. There were no pic- tures on the walls, or distractions of any kind, because when you looked through the four windows you saw pictures greater than man ever painted and every day they changed, so that you never grew tired of looking at them. Now Duric loved Felim and the house as well and whenever he felt lonesome, and that was often, he used to call on his friend and through the dint of diligence he learned just enough to make him wish he could learn more. Felim, he dis- covered, not only knew the birds of the forest by their color, but by their songs as well. But there was one bird that he could only see and this was the bird of all birds that he wanted to hear. As far as Felim knew, no one ever had heard this songster. The name of the bird was Felim's secret and to find out the bird's name was the task that Duric set out to accomplish. Effort after effort was made by Duric to wring the secret from Felim and he was about to give up in despair, when it occurred to him that while there's life there's hope and he so old that he not only forgot his own age, but the age of Felim as well. So after a great stretch of years, he made another journey to the house on the hill, full of recent news and expectancy and found Felim seated by the hearth where faggote blazed and tried to engage him in conversation. “Patriac, the shepherd saint who banished the snakes, is dead,” said Duric. But Felim did not speak or show sign of joy or sorrow. “Oilean-Ur was discovered by a navigator out of Genoa,” said Duric. Felim kept gazing into the fire. “There was an unheard of upheaval and great slaughterings in the western world. Monarchs fell from their thrones and nations were torn asunder,” said Duric, rising like a man full of knowledge. Felim did not budge or move his lips. Duric walked towards the door, swung on his heel and said, “Felim of the woods,” said he, “the man who heard the blackbird was killed in the unholy war. Felim gazed in amazement at Duric for a moment, then dropped his head like one who could never speak again. Frances Ledwidge, the Irish poet who was killed in the world war. “Oilean-Ur” means America. Patriac is the old way of spelling St. Patrick. Seumas O'Brien.

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TEXTILES Техше Design in preparation for commercial work FAWCETT BATIKS When Batiks hang upon the wall When all about the smoke doth blow, And Dick, the sheik, doth shine his nail, And coughing drowns Pop Davey's saw, And Hilda lingers in the hall, And tears that flowing downward go, And wax comes hardened white in pail; And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When brush is dipt and silk is spread, When dye be mixed and in the bowl- Then sprightly boils the hot bees-wax Then blighting rings the fire-drill bell, DeWitt! Ding it! From whom! A warning note! Dang it! A tragic note! While Mrs. Brown doth stir the pot. For Tailor then doth spill the pot! E. L. Martin (After Bill Shakespeare's Winter )