#W. C. Tuttle

[bdfarrands]

Free eBook!

Henry Goes Prehistoric, W. C. Tuttle

Sheriff Henry Harrison Conroy—vaudevillian-turned-lawman—and his oddball deputies, Judge Van Treece and Oscar the giant Swede, are already considered the "Shame of Arizona." But when a gold-hunting prospector is murdered and a wagon plunges into the depths of Lobo Canyon, Henry finds himself chasing clues through bootleg booze, fossil-hunting professors, and political schemes. In a town where comedy and crime go hand in hand, justice may depend on who survives the hangover—and who remembers the night before.

Originally published in Short Stories (January 25, 1948), this screwball Western mystery blends slapstick humor with frontier grit in true W.C. Tuttle fashion.

[mytlumblr]

Board Meeting Minutes 1/20/09

Board Meeting Minutes 1/20/09 Potsdam Humane Society Board Meeting Minutes 1/20/09 Attendees: Scott Soules, Gymo Tom Compo, Gymo Pat Tubbs, Fund Raising Consultant Tracy Adle Jane Amelotte Bonnie Boyd Linda Caamano Cindy Dusharm (excused) Rob Jewett Irene Hargrave Helen Hollinger Adam Huckle (excused) Ruth Huckle (excused) Amber Lindsey Jackie Pinover Carrie Tuttle Lucille Waterson   Location: SUNY Potsdam   1. Informational session on Capital Plan began at 4:58 p.m. - Rug in Training Room; up for discussion. - Color for vinyl siding; requested color scheme from architect for approval by Board President. - Outside kennels; chain link proposed in between kennels; Board requested that architect consider solid panels between as alternative in bid. - Schedule: meeting with Village of Potsdam Planning Board on 2/5 at 7 p.m. Tom, Carrie and Bonnie will attend; planning for 3/5 approval by Village. - Some ways to save costs are to select vinyl siding over a composite board; gravel parking lot versus paved; 23 spaces versus 40 spaces. - Budget: $900k is current estimate; market is quite volatile and estimate will change. 2. Pat Tubbs Fund Raising Report - Handed out and asked Board to review 1/6 fund raising discussion - Reviewed immediate items from first planning session. Planning fund raising event on 2/2, at Potsdam Presbyterian Church at 7 p.m.; on 2/4 for General Community Presentation at 7 p.m. at Potsdam Middle School; on 2/14 possibly at Walmart; Hills Event; Thermometer update; Website update; progress report distribution; Bon Ton promo; Tastefully Simple Home party; Rooftop fundraiser; Makeover video; Grants; Clarkson class project; Empire Zone tax credit request; Elevator speech. 3. Anne’s Report - Some personnel issues are being addressed. - Ag & Mrkts provided Anne with a list of things that ACOs need and she is working on it. - Discussed issues with ACOs and Amish animal licensing issues. 4. Meeting Rules - Consider not giving committees 10 minutes; 2-5 minutes instead. - Following Robert’s Rules for meetings; Lucille will email these to Board members so they can review. 5. Jackie moved to approve meetings from last meeting; Helen seconded. Unanimously approved. 6. Reviewed action items from previous meeting - Letter has not been drafted regarding dental equipment; tabled as a lower priority may want to revisit at another date. - Advertising in Freetrader is occurring. - School education program is underway. - Compilation of PR packet for PHS is ongoing. - Linda and Bonnie were to meet to review volunteer list; will report on next meeting. - Motion made by Carrie to keep the liability insurance; Jane seconded motion. Unanimously approved. At least two members require the insurance for them to able to remain active Board members. 7. Committee Reports a. Board Development - Bonnie and Jane are working on recruiting members from Canton. - Jackie made a motion to approve edited PHS Vacation and Leave Time for Full Time Employees; Rob seconded the motion. Helen requested that Personnel committee develop a policy for part-time employees. b. Operations - Ron Kilgore has repaired all the damaged kennel doors; and began to address electrical issues; removing forced air unit, etc. - Floor drain issue is continuing to be an issue; Bronson plans to come back this week or when weather permits. - In reception area broken keyboard return has been replaced and made improvements to cord mess. - Received new mop bucket and food canister with rollers from anonymous donor. - Hacketts donated new 15 gallon wet/dry shop vac. - Still working on back kennel door, broken window in surgery room, weather tightening, some broken lighting, non-combustible dryer vent, leaking sink w/ pinholes c. Finance - $27,061.21, collected since Progress Reports went out. - W2s and 1099 will be in the mail to employees this week. - Quickbooks program is now up and running. - Irene sent out balance sheets and other cash flow reports; month of December was positive in terms of cash flow ($1171.72 to the positive). - Shelter personnel are being tra

[webionaire]

eacting to the White Publishing World: Zora Neale Hurston and Negro Stereotypes

Claudine Raynaud

Chapter

118 Accesses

1 Citations

Abstract

Hurston’s article in The Negro Digest ‘What White Publishers Won’t Print’1 (April 1950) bemoans the dearth of novels that depict Negro and other ethnic minority characters with emotions and rest content with the stereotypes of the ‘exceptional’ Negro and the ‘quaint’. Taken on its own account, it is a vindication of minority rights and argues for a true reflection of what American society was like in the 1950s. It is an appeal to fight racist ideology precisely by undoing racist and sex- ist stereotypes, such as the idea that the black American cannot love, but can only exhibit ‘the passion of sex’ (Hurston 1995, p. 953).2 In this text, Hurston does not limit herself to the depiction of black life. She is indignant about the way in which Jews, as well as other ethnic minorities, such as the Chinese, are maligned by authors supported by contemporary publishers. These texts, she argues, serve to glorify the image that the white Anglo-Saxon intellectual elite have of themselves, and promote. She advocates novels in the vein of the naturalist school embodied at the time by Nobel Prize novelist Sinclair Lewis and his best-selling Main Street (1920).3 When Hurston wrote that essay, her publishing years were over, the productive decade of the 1930s a thing of the past. She was aiming at placing her new work with white publish- ers who were working with the major modernist authors of the day. Her anti-communism was just as fierce as her desire to be true to the variety and the breadth of Negro experience.

Keywords

African American Culture

Racist Ideology

Black Life

Negro Life

Black Writer

These keywords were added by machine and not by the authors. This process is experimental and the keywords may be updated as the learning algorithm improves.

This is a preview of subscription content, log in via an institution.

Preview

Select bibliography

Boyd, Valerie (2003) A Life Wrapped in Rainbows: The Life of Zora Neale Hurston. London: Virago Press.

Google Scholar

Brown, Sterling A. (1930) ‘Our Literary Audience’. In Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Gene Andrew Janett (eds.), The New Negro: Readings on Race, Representation, and African American Culture, 1892–1938. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007, pp. 384–90.

Google Scholar

Caiby, Hazel (1991) Foreword to Seraph on theSuwanee. New York: HarperPerennial, pp. vii–xvi.

Google Scholar

Charles, John C. (2009) ‘Talk about the South: Unspeakable Things Unspoken in Zora Neale Hurston’s Seraph on the Suwanee’. Mississippi Quarterly (Winter/Spring). <http://findarticles.eom/p/articles/mi_hb3524/is_l-2_62/ai_n53293396/> (accessed May 15, 2012).

Google Scholar

Du Bois, W. E. B. (1926) ‘Review of Nigger Heaven’. Crisis, 33: 81–2.

Google Scholar

Harrison, Hubert A. (1922) ‘On a Certain Condescension in White Publishers’. In Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Gene Andrew Jarrett (eds.), The New Negro: Readings on Race, Representation, and African American Culture, 1892–1938. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007, pp. 373–4.

Google Scholar

Hedden, Worth Tuttle (1948) ‘Turpentine and Moonshine: Love Conquers Caste Between Florida Crackers and Aristocrats’. The New York Herald Tribune Weekly Book Review. October 10, p. 2.

Google Scholar

Hedden, Worth Tuttle (1949) The Other Room. New York: Paperback Rack Books, 2002.

Google Scholar

Hemenway, Robert (1977) Zora Neale Hurston: A Literary Biography. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Google Scholar

Hurston, Zora N. (1937) Their Eyes were Watching God. Urbana-Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1978.

Google Scholar

Hurston, Zora N. (1939) Moses, Man in the Mountain. In Zora Neale Hurston: Novels and Stories. New York: Library of America, 1995, pp. 337–593.

Google Scholar

Hurston, Zora N. (1942) Dust Tracks on a Road. An Autobiography. Urbana-Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1984.

Google Scholar

Hurston, Zora N. (1948) Seraph on the Suwanee. New York: HarperPerennial, 1991.

Google Scholar

Hutchinson, George (1995) The Harlem Renaissance in Black and White. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Google Scholar

Jackson, Lawrence (2007) ‘Bucklin Moon and Thomas Stanton in the 1940s: Crusaders for the Racial Left’. Southern Literary Journal, 40(1): 76–97.

Article

Google Scholar

Jackson, Lawrence (2011) The Indignant Generation: A Narrative History of African American Writers and Critics 1934–1960. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Google Scholar

Johnson, James Weldon (1928) “The Dilemma of the Negro Author”. In Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Gene Andrew Jarrett (eds.), The New Negro: Readings on Race, Representation, and African American Culture, 1892–1938. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007, pp. 378–82.

Google Scholar

Kaplan, Carla (ed.) (2002) Zora Neale Hurston: A Life in Letters. New York: Doubleday.

Google Scholar

Lewis, David Levering (1981) When Harlem Was in Vogue. New York: Knopf.

Google Scholar

Lewis, Ngahna Tamu (2004) ‘The Rhetoric of Mobility, the Politics of Consciousness: Julia Mood Peterkin and the Case of a White Black Writer’. African American Review, 38(4) (Winter): 589–608.

Article

Google Scholar

Lewis, Sinclair (1920) Main Street. New York: New American Library Signet Classic, 1964.

Google Scholar

Lewis, Sinclair (1930) ‘The American Fear of Literature’, October 17. <http:// www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1930/lewis-lecture. html> (accessed May 20, 2012).

McKay, Claude (1927) Home to Harlem. Kenmore, NY: Northeastern University Press, 1987.

Google Scholar

McKay, Claude (1937) A Long Way from Home. New York: Mariner Books, 1970.

Google Scholar

Moon, Bucklin (1943) The Darker Brother. New York: Doubleday.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1924) Green Thursday. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1998.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1927) Black April. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1998.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1928) Bright Skin. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1998.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1929) Scarlet Sister Mary. Philadelphia: The Blakiston Company.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1933) Roll, Jordan, Roll, with photographic sketches of the Gullah by Doris Ulmann. Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill.

Google Scholar

Peterkin, Julia Mood (1934) A Plantation Christmas. Whittier, NC: Cherokee Pub, 1978.

Google Scholar

Pfeiffer, Kathleen (2000) ‘Introduction’ to Carl Van Vechten, Nigger Heaven. Urbana and Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, pp. ix–xxxix.

Google Scholar

Rawlings, Marjorie Kinnan (1955) The Secret River. New York: Scribner’s.

Google Scholar

Raynaud, Claudine (1988) ‘Autobiography as a “Lying” Session: Zora Neale Hurston’s Dust Tracks on a Road’. In Joe Weixlmann and Houston A. Baker (eds.), Studies in Black American Literature: Black Feminist Criticism and Critical Theory, vol. III. Greenwood: Penkevill Publishing Company, pp. 110–38.

Google Scholar

Raynaud, Claudine (1992) ‘“Rubbing a Paragraph with a Soft Cloth?”: Muted Voices and Editorial Constraints in Zora Neale Hurston’s Dust Tracks on a Road’. In Julia Watson and Sidonie Smith (eds.), De/Colonizing Subject: Politics and Gender in Women’s Autobiography. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 34–64.

Google Scholar

Raynaud, Claudine (2013) ‘Modernism, Anthropology, Africanism and the Self: Hurston and Herskovits on/in Haiti’. In Kate Marsh and Fionnghuala Sweeney (eds.), Afromodernisms: Paris, Haiti and the Avant-Garde. Edinburgh and New York: Edinburgh University Press, pp. 103–25.

Chapter

Google Scholar

Robeson, Elizabeth (1995) ‘The Ambiguity of Julia Peterkin’. Journal of Southern History, 61(4) (Nov.): 761–86.

Article

Google Scholar

Schuyler, George S. (1929) ‘Negro Authors Must Eat’. In Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Gene Andrew Jarrett (eds.), The New Negro: Readings on Race, Representation, and African American Culture, 1892–1938. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007, pp. 376–8.

Google Scholar

Scribner, Charles, Jr. (1990) In the Company of Writers: A Life in Publishing. New York: Scribner and Sons.

Google Scholar

Trombold, John (1999) “The Minstrel Show Goes to the Great War: Zora Neale Hurston’s Mass Cultural Other”. MELUS, 24(1) (Spring): 85–107.

Article

Google Scholar

Van Vechten, Carl (1926) Nigger Heaven. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2000.

Google Scholar

Walker, Alice (ed.) (1979) I love myself when I am laughing… and then again when I look mean and impressive. New York: Feminist Press.

Google Scholar

West, James L. W. III (2010) “The Expansion of the National Book Trade System”. In Carl F. Kaestle and Janice Radway (eds.), The History of the Book in America 1880–1940. Vol. 4: Print in Motion: The Expansion of Publishing and Reading in the United States, 1880–1940. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, pp. 78–89.

Google Scholar

Wilson, Sondra Kathryn (ed.) (1999) The Crisis Reader: Stories, Poetry and Essays from the NAACP’s Crisis Magazine. New York: Random House.

Google Scholar

Wright, Richard (1940) Native Son. New York: HarperPerennial, 1998.

Google Scholar

Wright, Richard (1937) ‘Between Laughter and Tears’. New Masses, October 5: 22–3. <http://people.virginia.edu/~sfr/enam358/wrightrev.html> (accessed May 19, 2012).

Google Scholar

Wright, Ruth C. (1930) ‘Negro’s Authors’ Week: An Experiment’. In Sondra Kathryn Wilson (ed.), The Crisis Reader: Stories, Poetry and Essays from the NAACP’s Crisis Magazine. New York: Random House, 1999, pp. 341–4.

Google Scholar

Download references

Author information

Authors and Affiliations

Université Paul-Valéry Montpellier 3, France

Claudine Raynaud (Professor of English and American Studies)

Editor information

Editors and Affiliations

Aix-Marseille Université, France

Cécile Cottenet (Associate Professor) (Associate Professor)

Copyright information

© 2014 Claudine Raynaud

About this chapter

Cite this chapter

Raynaud, C. (2014). Reacting to the White Publishing World: Zora Neale Hurston and Negro Stereotypes. In: Cottenet, C. (eds) Race, Ethnicity and Publishing in America. Palgrave Macmillan, London. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137390523_6

Download citation

.RIS.ENW.BIB

DOI

https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137390523_6

Publisher Name

Palgrave Macmillan, London

Print ISBN

978-1-349-48265-8

Online ISBN

978-1-137-39052-3

eBook Packages

Palgrave Literature Collection

Literature, Cultural and Media Studies (R0)

Publish with us

Policies and ethics

Access via your institution

Chapter

USD 29.95

Price excludes VAT (USA)

Available as PDF

Read on any device

Instant download

Own it forever

Buy Chapte

[puutterings]

around, and writing letters

              He told her that I’m licked , and there’s a lot of men who can             he was so glad to be able to read the sad pull quicker and shoot faster than I can.             news that she could keep the money — it Me and Magpie have been puttering             would be hers , anyway.  

— OCR cross column misread, at W. C. Tuttle, “Alias Whispering White,” in Adventure 19:5 (December 3, 1918) : 74-86 (75)

from TOC description, page 1 “At last Magpie and Ike break into society — but rather precipitousy. To help in a worthy cause they go East where their coming-out attracts far more attention than that of the reigning débutante.”

—

W(ilbur). C(oleman). Tuttle (1883-1969) wikipedia mentioned for his “humorous Westerns” at wikipedia page on Adventure magazine.

further down — but he puts in quite a lot time puttering around, and writing letters. A few days after he gets that letter he borrows a burro to ride to Piperock.  

[books0977]

Singing River. W C. Tuttle. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1939. First edition. Original dust jacket.

Mystery and western novel of "Sad Sontag and his pal Swede Harrigan, seeing the sights of San Francisco, get innocently mixed up in the murder of Dan Reynolds, the Sheep King."

[rhianna]

Author:     Tuttle, W. C. (Wilbur C.), 1883-1969

Title    Bluffer's luck

Original Publication    Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1937.

[minayuri]

Dwight Frye’s Broadway Years (1922-1929)

Before Dwight was tragically typecast and only offered supporting roles and bit parts in Hollywood, he had a fulfilling career as a critically acclaimed stage actor. Dwight found success in Broadway portraying a variety of character roles for several types of plays in the Roaring Twenties up until the Great Depression.

Dwight was discovered by famed Broadway producer, Brock Pemberton and Dwight collaborated with him in several of his early plays. He had the opportunity to act alongside notable actors and actresses in this period, like his future Dracula co-star Bela Lugosi. 

SELECTED ROLES

-Six Characters in Search of an Author (Oct 30, 1922 - Feb 1923) as The Son w/ Florence Eldridge

Note: A revival for this play was in Feb 1924 for 17 performances and Dwight reprised his role.

-Rita Coventry (Feb 19, 1923 - Mar 1923) as Patrick Delaney

Note: This role gave him the honor of being placed in the Top 10 of 1922/23’s midseason performances.

-Sitting Pretty (Apr 08, 1924 - Jun 28, 1924) as Horace w/ Queenie Smith

Note: Dwight got to sing and dance in this musical comedy.

-So this is Politics (Strange Bedfellows) (Jun 16, 1924 - Oct 1924) as Willie Marsden

-Puppets (Mar 09, 1925 - Apr 1925) as Frank Mohacz w/ Fredric March, Miriam Hopkins, & C. Gordon Henry

Note: Here, he got to play a juicy part in a villainous role. Likewise with Rita Coventry, he showed off his talents as a pianist in this melodrama.

-A Man’s Man (Oct 13, 1925 - Jan 1926) as Melville Tuttle w/ Josephine Hutchinson & Robert Gleckler

Note: He portrayed the leading protagonist and used method acting for this play. The role of Melville Tuttle was Dwight’s personal favorite.

-The Goat Song (Jan 25, 1926 - Mar 1926) as Mirko w/ Lynn Fontanne, Edward G. Robinson, & Zita Johann

-Devil in the Cheese (Dec 29, 1926 - May 1927) as Dr. Pointell Jones w/ Fredric March & Bela Lugosi

Note: Bela and Dwight's first collaboration before 1931’s Dracula film.

-The Queen’s Husband (Jan 25, 1928 - May 1928) as Prince William

-Mima (Dec 12, 1928 - May 1929) as Alfons w/ Lenore Ulrich, Sidney Blackmer, & Alan Hale Sr.

Note: It could be seen as a presage to Dwight’s coming notoriety in horror film.

Dwight Frye’s biography, "Dwight Frye’s Last Laugh" details his stage career in stock theatre and in Broadway leading to his tenure in Hollywood. I truly recommend the book for anyone who is a fan of his work.

The three bottom photos L to R are from Sitting Pretty, A Man's Man, & Mima.

-The full list of his Broadway credits can be found here.-

[pulpsandcomics2]

Argosy   July 15, 1939     cover by Rudolph Belarski

Maximilian’s Men by Robert Carse

Thirty Days for Henry [Part 2 of 4] by W. C. Tuttle

Seven Footprints to Satan [Part 4 of 5] by A. Meritt

Plague Ship by Murray Leinster

Red Light—Green Light by Burton Peabody

The Man from Madrid [Part 6 of 6] by Walter Ripperger

[celestialmazer]

Julie Mehretu, Untitled 2, 1999. Private collection. Courtesy of White Cube. © Julie Mehretu

Julie Mehretu, Hineni (E. 3:4), 2018. Centre Pompidou, Paris, Musée national d’art moderne/Centre de création industrielle; gift of George Economou, 2019. © Julie Mehretu. Photography:Tom Powel Imaging

Julie Mehretu, Mind-Wind Field Drawings (quarantine studio, d.h.) #1, 2019-2020. Private collection, courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery New York/Paris. © Julie Mehretu. Photography courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery

Julie Mehretu, Mogamma (A Painting in Four Parts) Part 1, 2012. Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: White Cube, Ben Westoby

Julie Mehretu, Conjured Parts (eye), Ferguson, 2016. The Broad Art Foundation, Los Angeles. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Cathy Carver

Julie Mehretu, Migration Direction Map (large), 1996. Private collection. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Tom Powel Imaging

At home with artist Julie Mehretu

CAMILLE OKHIO - 25 MAR 2021

Julie Mehretu speaks with the joy and conviction of someone who has had the freedom to investigate all their interests. Curiosity has led her to the myriad topics, objects and moments that inform her work, among them cartography, archaeology, the birth of civilisation and mycology. Since the 1990s, her practice has expanded outwardly in all directions like a spider web. A lack of understanding and preconceived notions among reviewers have often led to her work being flattened – simplified so that it is easily digestible – but in reality, her work is far from a simplistic investigation of any one topic. It encompasses multitudes.

The artist’s recent paintings are mostly large scale, but her early works on paper (often created with multiple layers – one sheet of Mylar on top of another) are as small as a six-inch square. The works often comprise innumerable minuscule markings – tremendous force and knowledge communicated through delicate inkings and streaks. Their layers reveal, rather than obfuscate. And though Mehretu’s creative process springs from a desire to understand herself better, the work itself is in no way autobiographical. 

Born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on the tails of a continental rejection of colonialism, and raised there, then in Michigan, Mehretu has a flexible and full-hearted understanding of home. It is not one physical place, but many, all holding equal importance. On 25 March, Mehretu will present her first major retrospective at the Whitney Museum of American Art, with works spanning 1996 to 2019. The institution is an important one for Mehretu, as it played host to several pivotal shows in her youth.

Her exhibition has served as an impetus for Mehretu to look back at her already prolific career, observing and organising the thoughts, questions and answers she has put forth for over two decades. The six years it took to bring this exhibition together proved an incredibly valuable time of reflection, fatefully dovetailing with a year of quarantine. 

Wallpaper*: Where are you as we speak?

Julie Mehretu: I’m in my studio on 26th Street, right on the West Side Highway. I’ve worked here for 11 years.

W*: Are there any artists, writers or thinkers that have had a meaningful impact on you?

JM: I don’t know how to answer that because there are literally so many! It’s constantly changing. Right now, Kara Walker, David Hammons, William Pope.L, and younger artists like Jason Moran (who has made amazing work around abstraction). There are so many artists that have been informative and important to me: Frank Bowling, Jack Whitten, Caravaggio.

I also look at a lot of prehistoric work, from as far back as 60,000 years ago, as well as cave paintings from 6th century China and early prehistoric drawings in the caves of Australia. 

W*: What’s the most interesting thing you have read, watched or listened to recently?

JM: For the last few weeks I’ve been immersed in Steve McQueen films. I’ve been bingeing on lovers rock music. And a TV show that really moved me was [Michaela Cole’s] I May Destroy You. It’s difficult, but it was really well done and powerful. 

Ocean Vuong’s novel On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous is amazing. The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing is a really incredible book too – she studies this mushroom that became a delicacy in Japan in the 7th century. It started growing in deforested areas – it’s in these places destroyed by human beings that these mushrooms survive. [I find it interesting] that this mushroom grows on the edge of precarity and destruction. Like with Black folks, there is a constant aspect of insisting on yourself and reinventing yourself in the midst of constant effort of destruction. 

W*: What was the first piece of art you remember seeing? How did you feel about it?

JM: One of the first times I remember being moved by a work of art was looking through my mother’s Rembrandt book. We brought so few things back from Ethiopia and that was one of them. [Particularly] Rembrandt’s The Sacrifice of Isaac. That story is so intense. I was so moved by the light and the skin and the way the paint made light and skin. 

W*: Do you travel? If so, what does travel afford you, and what have you missed about it during Covid-19?

JM: I travel a lot, but I haven’t travelled this year. There has been this amazing sense of suspension and a pause in that. I miss travelling, but going to look at art, watching films, reading novels and listening to music is the way I travel now. For instance, I’ve been listening to Afro-Peruvian music and now I want to go to Peru.

Before I know it we will be back in this fast-paced, zooming-around environment – there is something I want to savour by staying here, now, in this time and absorbing as much as I can.

W*: You are said to have a vast collection of objects and images. Walk me through your collection – what areas, materials, makers and things have the largest presence and why?

JM: When you enter our home there is this long hallway. Framed along the wall we have around 20 fluorescent Daniel Joseph Martinez block-printed posters he made with words – almost poems. Our kids grew up reading those. One says ‘Sometimes I can’t breathe’ and another one says ‘Don’t work’, while some are really long.

We also have a great Paul Pfeiffer photograph of one from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse series. We have a group of Richard Tuttle etchings right over our dining table. We have an amazing David Hammons body print as well, and my kids’ work is all over the house.

W*: As the daughter of immigrants and an immigrant yourself – how do you conceptualise home and how do you create it?

JM: There were a lot of times I felt very transient – as a student and a young adult, going in and out of school and residency programmes. It always came back to music and food. There are certain flavours, foods, music, smells that you take wherever you go. Also as a mother, I’m building a home for my children. Home becomes something else because of them. They are the core of home now. 

W* How has motherhood affected your practice?

JM: I became much more productive when I had kids for several reasons – one is that I felt a lot of pressure to make [work] in the time I wasn’t with them, which of course is unsustainable. A large part of making is not making – thinking and searching. 

When I got to work I could get into it much more quickly. Kids grow and change so fast, you feel time is passing so you need to use it. I wasn’t going to stop working, that’s for sure. All women who are pushing in their lives make that choice. 

W*: What is your favourite myth and why does it hold importance for you?

JM: Right now I’m reading Greek myths to my ten-year-old. We’ve read them before, but he wanted to read them again. I still read to him at night even though he’s a voracious reader himself.

The myths I remember the most are myths I’ve come across in visual works. Titian’s Diana and Actaeon – I know that myth so well because of his painting. Bernini’s mesmerising sculpture of Apollo and Daphne I saw in Rome, where her body becomes a tree. The leaves are so delicately carved into the marble, it’s a work of incredible beauty. I’ve been considering this deconstructionist approach to mythology. Storytelling becomes this place to interrogate propositions, which is what I think mythology does.

W*: Have you experienced a flattening of your work?

JM: I’m always concerned with flattening and pigeonholing. That is something that happens to artists like us all the time. When I first was working and showing there was a bit of that happening with my work. It was put into the space of cartography or an architectural analysis of it. It was said to be autobiographical work.

The art world tries to consume. There is this desire to flatten and the desire for Black artists to be a reflection of their experience. I don’t think any artist is like that at all. In reality, none of us are flat. We all contain multitudes and are complicated – that has always been the core of the Black radical tradition.

[krispyweiss]

Album Review: Sierra Hull - 25 Trips

Beefing up her sound with drums, electric guitar and piano, but clinging to her bluegrass roots with assists from Molly Tuttle, Ron Block, Bryan Sutton, Stuart Duncan and others, Sierra Hull cuts a wide swath on 25 Trips.

“One of the things I most enjoyed about making this record was getting to show the wide variety of music I love,” the multi-instrumentalist said in a statement. “I don’t really know what category the album falls in, but I also think that matters less and less.”

Though the vinyl age is mostly a relic, 25 Trips has a clean line of demarcation in the form of the instrumental “The Last Minute.” It’s a fluttering tune that wings on mandolin, fiddle and Dobro and marks the end of the LP’s rootsier fare and a turn toward poppier offerings.

Before getting there, Hull - whose main instruments are mandolin and a voice that descended from a cloud nearby the one that dropped Alison Krauss to Earth - toys with Punch Brothers-like esoterica on the title track; borrows heavily from Tori Amos’ “Cornflake Girl” on “Middle of the Woods;” fashions a classic C&W daddy-daughter weeper on “Ceiling to the Floor;” and reaches her songwriting apex on “How Long,” which melds scathing lyrics with music that lopes along wearily before hopping a bullet train of banjo, mandolin and guitar solos.

Much as I love you, wanna help/some things you gotta do for yourself/how long is too late, too gone/how long, she sings before the transition.

The second half of 25 Trips is not at all disagreeable, but following the excellence up front, it pales in its radio-friendly presentation. The result is an album that would rarely be flipped if it was on a turntable, even if the proverbial second side contains nothing that could be called pure filler.

Grade card: Sierra Hull - 25 Trips - B-

5/20/20

[youngsparrow]

The Boarding House

Fog and rain, with the spluttering arclights shining like moons out of the drizzle and a mist; the rattle of wheels on cobbles, soughing of fog-horns down on San Francisco Bay; the far-off din of a cable car gong, and always the dismal patter of rain along the gutter.

A girl stopped at the entrance of a cheap boarding house, where a single electric bulb partly illuminated the faded sign. Her faded old raincoat glistened in the light, and her cheap felt hat leaked drops of water as she glanced up at the sign.

It was not because she was unfamiliar with that sign. Nan Whitlock had passed under it several times a day for a number of months, because it was her home. That is, it was the only home she had, and just now she was wondering how much longer she could call it home.

After a short period of reflection she went inside, passed the dining-room door and started up the stairs. Beneath the raincoat was a small parcel, and she quickly slipped it farther out of sight as a step sounded on the stairs above her.

It was Mrs. Emmett, the landlady, a short, chubby sort of woman, but with features prematurely hardened from forcing payments. Just now she narrowed her eyes and glanced upon Nan Whitlock as she partly blocked the stairs.

“I was just at your room, Miss Whitlock,” she said. “Unless you and Miss Allan pay for that room before breakfast to-morrow, I’ve a new inhabitant for the same.”

“Was—was Miss Allan there?” faltered Nan.

“She was not. I’m tired of promises, and I just heard that Miss Allan’s show closes to-morrow night.”

“Yes, I know that,” said Nan meekly.

“Oh, ye do? And I suppose I was to be left holding the sack, as they say, eh? Well, I’m not. I’ve had her trunk put in storage to-day, and she’ll not get it until the rent is all paid.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Emmett.”

“She’ll be sorry, too, I’m thinking. Oh, I don’t mean to be cross about it, but business is business. If I have to, I’ll attach your wages, my dear. With a fly-by-night like Madge Allan, all I can do is take her trunk. You tell her, will ye? And, of course, that means both of ye get out, unless the money is paid. Her with her fine clothes and fur coats, and a taxi at the door almost every night! And she can’t pay twenty dollars rent! Well, you two think it over, my dear. Unless I miss my guess, I’ll have a vacancy after breakfast.”

She stepped aside and walked grandly down the stairs, while Nan hurried on to her room, where she lighted the gas jets, threw off her wet coat and sat down rather heavily. Nan was not pretty, but she had an oval face, wistful gray eyes, and a wealth of wavy auburn hair. Twenty-two her last birthday, and out of a job again.

“Attach my wages,” she said, half aloud. “Fine chance. With it all in my pocket.”

Excerpt from Bluffer's luck (Author: W. C. Tuttle)

[seattlemysterybooks]

philsp

October 12, 1935 issue

Borden Chase, “Midnight Taxi” (Part 1 of 7)    

Frederick C. Painton, Test Flight     

Alfred George: Wonders of the World #41. Florida’s Singing Tower   

H. Bedford-Jones, “Bowie Knife” (Part 2 of 6)   

Howard R. Marsh, “The Tuba Pitcher"    

Joseph W. Skidmore: What’s in a Name?    

Stookie Allen: Men of Daring: Buffalo Jones     

W. C. Tuttle, “The Sheriff of Tonto Town” (Part 5 of 6; Henry Sontag)    

Betty Wood McNabb, “Tides"

H. H. Matteson, “Throw ’Em Down McClosky"    

J. W. Holden, “The Worst Earthquake"    

George Challis, “The Dew of Heaven” (Part 6 of 6; Ivor Kildare)   

Seattle Mystery Bookshop

[preyforthewicked]

14.

In July of 2010, I was accepted into the Young Writers Program at UVA. While visiting the States for summer vacation, I would spend three weeks among my peers participating in the intensive writing workshop. I was so freakin’ excited. I shared a dorm room with one of my best friends from middle school who was also a talented writer. 

This experience wasn’t free. In fact it was pretty expensive, especially considering my parents paid for it with savings and donor money. They weren’t paid a salary for the missionary work – our family was supported by the prayers and donations of our church, family, and friends. It was a big deal that my parents even considered letting me apply for this workshop. I’m so grateful I got the chance.

There were one hundred or so students and a handful of counselors. We stayed in residence halls left vacant by the college’s summer slump. I bunked with my friend, Emile, in Tuttle house, which was so old it has since been replaced with newer facilities. We had no A/C and it was July in southern Virginia - read: utterly sweltering. I would end each day taking the coldest shower the dials would allow me and then starfish on the sheets of my twin bed, casting envious gazes toward the fan at Emile’s bed blowing waves of air over her peacefully sleeping form. It was still warm air, to be sure, but it must have made a difference. It made me feel stupid for not considering that on my packing list.

Our days were full of adventures around town to local art museums and workshopping with our cohort. I had applied for the fiction cohort, as that was my interest, but got placed in creative nonfiction. The reason for this was unfathomable to me, but I didn’t complain. I gave it everything I had and enjoyed every moment. 

We were refused access to the Wi-Fi. It was policy, its intentions being to give us deeper immersion in the experience and be more present. This makes sense in the writing world, as it mimics some writers’ residencies where you are so isolated from the outside world all you have are your housemates to bounce ideas off of at the end of each day. It’s supposed to be good for the process, good for the art. With the uprising of social media and instant messaging, it also made sense; distractions such as constant internet chatter did not lend themselves to focused end products. 

I had anticipated having internet access for the sole purpose of being able to chat with David whenever I got the chance. I was used to talking with him almost every day and this felt like a gut-wrenching blow. I had no way of communicating across the 4,000 mile distance that, hey, I guess I’m going radio silent for three weeks, love you and see you when I come out the other side. 

I did not just roll over when my counselor told me there was no internet. Putting my technological skills to work, I did some digging on the UVA website and figured out how to use the credentials on my UVA student pass to login to the campus-wide Wi-Fi. I was so proud of myself for this achievement, of figuring out how to do this on my own even after I was told it was not possible. 

I signed into Skype chat with a big smile on my face.

David was keeping busy with the SVP (student volunteer program) he was running down in Peru for the summer. A handful of college aged kids had signed up to do what we were doing, just on a smaller scale – missionary work for a few months as opposed to years. They were there essentially as grunts to do whatever David needed them to, be it dig a hole to bury rubble in or paint walls. I had hung out with them every day before leaving for summer vacation and it was a lot of fun. They were vibrant people just a few years older than me and we got along quite well. They called me the honorary SVP since we did so much working together and enjoyed each other’s company. 

David supervised them from dawn until dusk, and so only had a chance for some private time (aka time he felt safe chatting with me) much later in the day when he was wiped out and readying for bed. Our schedules were similar in this way – I didn’t have much chance during the day to sign in because I was busy doing writerly things, naturally. So after my cold shower, I’d perch in bed and sign in to wind down with him.

I’m sure those first couple of days I prattled on and on about how much fun I was having and how convinced I was that being a serious writer was definitely in my future because all this writing wasn’t wearing me out one bit – in fact, it was invigorating me more than anything. Churning out all this creativity was simply begetting more. The well was infinite, I discovered. It helped too that I was around my peers; there is a certain energizing electricity in being around those like oneself, age-wise and otherwise.

A few days into the workshop, I had completed my showering ritual and sat cross-legged on my bed, booting up the heavy red brick that was my Gateway laptop. If I had any inkling what was coming, I wouldn’t have turned it on at all and simply gone to bed in attempt to avoid the inevitable.

David was caught in another one of his penitent tornadoes. I’ve no idea the catalyst – usually he seemed to think himself into the spiral all by his lonesome, no real trigger needed – and this time (not the first time) I couldn’t reverse it. He had done this exact dance on other occasions only to come crawling back days later, but somehow every time he danced like this, I was certain it was the last, and the devastation ripped at me again, the black hole threatening to suck all light from my life. 

We were done. (Again.) 

I couldn’t believe it. Here he was again, casting me out to sea without a life preserver. I had to go on through the rest of this workshop pretending like nothing had changed, that my heart had not once again been torn to pieces. My friend was in tune enough with my moods; if I acted too off, she would no doubt ask, and I was a terrible liar. What could I say? Oh, I’m just tired. What a laugh.

I did not sleep well that night.

My writings from the rest of the workshop took on a new and consistent tone. Here’s a snippet just to paint the picture:

She stood in the cracked, paint-peeling doorway, her eyes filling slowly with tears. His figure was a mere shadow as he slipped behind the steering wheel of his black Impala under the dim light of the street lamps lining the road. 

He had walked away without looking back. Without a proper goodbye.

Without her.

The car rumbled to life and purred steadily as it idled for a moment like a panther stalking its prey. Then he rolled out of the short driveway.

She hoped sadly from the porch that he’d look back at her, turn around and realize how he was leaving her. Realize what this would do to her. 

But he didn’t.

Dismayed, she walked back into the house with heavy footsteps. Just as the door clicked shut, he turned in his upholstered seat quickly, as if he had been forcing himself to stay facing forward.

She was gone.

He put the car in gear and drove away.

This writing is titled “Without a Goodbye.” I was consumed by my heartbreak. The “break up” playlist I had made the first time he broke things off remained on my iPod; it was all I listened to for the next few weeks. You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol was the worst song off that playlist, but in the best way. The lyrics, so raw and real, spoke to my brokenness. And it was off an album David had given me, just to drive the knife deeper.

Outside of my head, I pretended well that I wasn’t broken. But inside, I was overflowing chaotic despair. 

It wasn’t until late one night (isn’t it always?), after the workshop was over, on the cusp of July becoming August that David caught me on chat. The SVPs had left and perhaps that had reminded him how lonely he was. My parents were in the States, too, so he was truly all by himself down there.

I had just come home from a rock concert with my childhood best friend and Emile, and was electrified by it. The energy of the bass and guitar and vocals still thumped through my body like a second heartbeat. My throat was hoarse from singing my lungs out. When the ping of the chat sounded and his name glowed from my screen, I held my head a little higher. I felt suddenly and inexplicably powerful, full of self-respect and independence. Sure he had torn me apart weeks earlier, but I had not messaged him once. Somehow, despite all the almosts, I had resisted the temptation to break first, to show the weakness that was my devoted affection. I was indignant this time. I knew he might come back, and this time, I would get comfortable while I waited to watch him crawl up to my feet. 

And here he was. 

He did not apologize directly for how he’d behaved weeks earlier. In fact, he more or less glossed over what had happened, avoiding the topic and hoping to start fresh. He asked me how I was, how my summer was going. I would not be back in Peru for another three weeks and so had a good bit left of my vacation to look forward to.

He missed me and was looking forward to having me back on the same side of the equator as him. We didn’t get back together that night, necessarily, but we did start talking on the daily again. By the time the plane landed in Peru, vacation over, we were once more an us.

[art-now-israel]

Te, Dorit Kedar

"Emptiness, silence, is not nothingness, but fullness, your fullness. For the artist-priests who painted them, they represented acts of intense contemplation, attempts to comprehend the essential nature of the universe and to penetrate to the very core of individual existence. The author's commentaries and the translated poems accompanying the paintings are designed to work at the nonverbal level, stimulating readers to similar "transactions with the universe."" Holmes, S., W. and Horioka, C., Zen Art for Meditation, Vermont and Tokyo, Charles E. Tuttle, 1984, p. 1. The past is remembrance, the future is fantasy. The present is the passage between remembrance and fantasy. If we live devoid of memory or fantasy- we experience Void. In other words: an awareness entirely detached, able to fully experience Transience.

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Sculpture-Te/449262/1641299/view

[tinyhousecalling]

2 Small Homes w/ Additional 3rd Lot For Sale Next to Tuttle Creek Lake in KS $174,900

2 Small Homes w/ Additional 3rd Lot For Sale Next to Tuttle Creek Lake in KS $174,900

Each small home consists of one bedroom and one bathroom. Easy access to Garrison Beach and access to the community boat ramp!

2602 N Fork Canyon Rd, Olsburg, KS, 66520 $174,900

2 bed

1 bath

600 sq ft

0.82 acre lot

Build date 1968

Google Map

Property Listing Realtor: Dawn Schultz, Real Estate Expert Prestige Realty & Associates Related: c.1900 Small Move-In Ready Home in Garnett KS

About This…