Pratt Institute - Prattonia Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 21 text:

William L. Longyear James Brooks Charles H. Burger, Jr. Walter Civardi Marguerite Drewry Herschel Levit Missed the elevator? A tragedy—he’ll be late. But no! With the quick decision and grim determination peculiar to his species he leaps for the stairs and vanishes upwards; leaving in his wake a confusion of bent T-squares, Mondrian reproductions, and ruffled Home Econ- omists. The courageous adventurer who dares pursue this littered trail will find himself on the fifth floor, amongst a breathless, but intent, tribe which the world has come to call “Advertising Designer.” Pause a moment, inhale, and observe the potted greenery with leaves trailing lazily; the soft cushions; the shining crystal cases with their intriguing arrangements of merchandise. Note the exhibit dealing with reproductive process 103 (no, ma’am, this has nothing to do with biology!). Peaceful, is it not? Yet, within these confines, hours become minutes and minutes, seconds. Brains labor feverishly; hands strain at ties and starched white collars; production is at the—(ouch)— maximum. Consider this strange paradox of art and industry—this “advertis- ing designer.” Listen: “Caslon Italic, Futura Medium? Girder! Ah-h-h —bouncing Playbill.” What strange language is this? Note its under- current of tension; the texture of the sound. On your way down to the fourth floor, watch for the inimitable abstract forms flooding the paper in room X. Bold blacks, reds, and yellows, plus delicate shadings of terra cotta. Sensational! One side, please. Mr. Mercury coming in with the stats. Look at that—one magnified dust particle, one lettuce-leaf montage, three quin- tuple exposures, and twelve superimposed, reverse-positive negatives. There is a Forum today? Go, by all means. In the dimly lit interior of Memorial Hall the taint outline of rich, gently swaying velvet drapes may be discerned. A virtuoso crouches over the dark mass of the piano—left, front. Offstage, an ethereal soprano pours out her dedication (particularly illustrative of the Baroque Period), “Lullaby and goodnight, thy red eyes close t-i-i-i-ght. Sleep, sleep, sleep.” What bliss to linger in this cultural atmosphere, but the lights are up. How like a dream have passed the hours. Gone, like a substance which never existed, is the audience. Load the portfolios, men; seal them with rubber cement and cover them tenderly with acetate. The field awaits. John C. Nichols Eugen H. Petersen Cornelia Smollin Walter Steinhilber and Blanche Berkoff Mary Isabel Bosserman William H. Kries