School of Industrial Art - Evergreen Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Dg. through the eyes ot an artist ff X- 1 ,ff .4 . fb 5. 1 o 'Q i QU' r Pr' . v A g ' .tag 1 l .lf I A The artist is in many ways the apostle of beauty. He is able to see beauty everywhere and he tries to convey it to the world through his work. He is usually a complex personality - temperamental, perhaps - but only because at times he feels frustrated for he cannot share the beauty he sees. He is rich in ideas and dizzy with color. 'lio the artist, the city is a treasure house of inspiration. Reach section reflects the emotions of those who occupy it. lle sees the sombre buildings of the slums with their multi-colored inhabitants. lle sees the surface gaiety and laughter of Broadway. lliith a few strolqes ol his brush he captures the lush texture of l'arl4 Avenue. lle sees Central l'ark as an oasis from man's progress -- mother Nature untouched. 'l'hiough the eyes of an artist, the sun is not an average-size still' in our solar system, but the giver of lite, color and shade. lle sfillttls in silent awe as the barren trees are silhouetted against a promising sun, which slowly sinks into the earth. The artist can instantly recognive beauty in the flight of birds. lle sees the majesty of the sea as it slams against the cringing shore. lle laughs in remembrance of his own child- hood as the maternal ocean washes the face of lfarth. All has its place in the artist's world. XVrinl4les and folds are to be examined for rhythmic patterns .and graceful sculpture. Youth is the synonym of grace. Rain scrubs at the world to renew its color. A snowflake becomes a unique stencil. :X happy laugh is the gayest of colors. .-X rainbow is the artist's own palette. 'l'he artist sees beauty where the lavman sees nothing. lle sees it though it is not obvious or breathtaking. lle also feels the overpowering despair when what he creates is laughed at. 'lihis laughter is always the darkest of grays and blues . . . lle is both the adventurer and the organizer of experience. josnrinxn Nloscnnttax 5 -for f n O L ' I H D X 1 g ' rin' Ni A 1 - '15, t X., 5 ' 1- I 1' i .s N L - ,. S 9 o F - 4

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42 THE SKY The sky, Vast and Oppressing, Bears down upon my head, The greyness of the world. ij RQ f SNOW Snow Desolute and Sterile, grows with smoke stacks, Cold with Fear, Far in the city. Dwelling in my bosom, GERRY GOLDBERG A love fierce and compelling, Invoking cores of ferver- Dancing and flickering within me. Brightly burns my love: Humid beauty bursting, Yet imprisoned in my breast, Escapes in sweet streams. GERRY GOLDBERG NOW DEAD Mourn A TREE X for the hot ragged breath- now dead. Union of the soul-erupting all boundaries That sweetly ebbs-, separates-by air, light, Now dead. DALE DRUINIMOND A tree has fallen Somewhere in a woodg In a wood full of trees Some bad, some good. When its seed was planted Deep in its heart The gentle seedling In its curious persistence, grew The beauty of its innocence Nothing could change: Giving only love Expecting love, in exchange. Then suddenly-oh, who could have known? The fruit of our tree from its dear berth was torn. Knowing goodness It could not understand And kindness and lover were its only defense. But cruelty was born As in the mind of a child By the ignorant world Of darkness and scorn. Our sweet, tender sapling Its heart filled with tears Cried out to the heavens, Truth to hide my fears l The burden was heavy The branches strained But they fought on For their faith remained. A tree has fallen Somewhere in a wood, In a wood full of trees Some bad, some good. Darkness rolls in . . . But lol Sadness drifts out For approaching dawn Reveals a tiny sprout. Here is new life Our trees live again Now with understanding A better life will begin And the tree grows once more From the very same seed. ANGELA MARINO

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