Thanx to Soo Hostetler / Tom Tate / Philip Fass

pleased to attend / Elena Diane Curris Exhibition

Last evening, I had the pleasure of attending the opening of the 2024 Elena Diane Curris Biennial Design Exhibition the UNI Gallery of Art. Below is a two-part posting I uploaded to LinkedIn earlier this afternoon. Such a wonderful exhibition, as well as a pleasurable social event.

Elena Diane Curris Graphic Design Exhibit 2024

Curris Exhibition Opening

 

four persons who deserve wider recognition

In the last week of October, I will begin to teach my latest online course for Drake University, as part of their Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) course offerings. Titled ACCOMPLISHED BUT INSUFFICIENTLY PRAISED, over four weeks, with one presentation each week, I'll be sharing what I know about the lives of Four People Who Deserve to be More Widely Known. Looking forward to it.

there is no better book about human creativity

Douglas Fowler, S.J. Perelman. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1983, p. 83—

Continuing an ancient and honorable line of speculation into the nature of humor, Arthur Koestler has theorized [in The Act of Creation] that human laughter may be a sort of alternative satisfaction of “biological drives,” a substitute for “killing and copulating,” for planting antipersonnel bombs. The aggression implied in laughter—and laughter almost always involves ridicule, bringing low—is “sublimated, often unconscious,” but the mechanism of laughter surely involves a psychic effort to reduce or even imaginatively destroy its objects; and we can agree that a good part of the comic phenomenon might be understood as brutality without consequence.

•••

I discovered The Act of Creation, Arthur Koestler’s classic book on science, art and humor, as a college freshman in 1965. It had been published the year before. At nearly 500 pages, it is not an easy read. Or, it might be better to say that the text, as one moves through it, is immensely pleasurable, stirring and insightful. That is especially true of Part One. In Part Two, as Koestler cautions, the wording thickens somewhat and the content grows more technical. But you must not be put off by this. 

Over the years, I have owned six or seven copies of this book, and yet I have never read the entire text in sequence, page by page from beginning to end. I don’t think it works best for that. But most likely I’ve read every word, in session lengths and sequences that seemed appropriate at the time. Even today, I still go back to it, because its concepts are so illuminating, and the writing is so perfectly phrased. I have learned immeasurably, I don’t deny, from other educational opportunities, and from other published sources, but I continue to be convinced that, at a critical point in my life, Koestler’s book provided a “big picture” framework for those.  

The entire book is now available free online. If the book seems somewhat daunting, you might first read an essay I wrote in 1998. More recently, I produced a short video talk on the subject, which is also free online. Near the end of the video, I recall an incident that took place in my classroom, back in 1968, when I was a 7-12 art teacher in a public school. In subsequent years, as a university professor (and as a grapher design and writer) I made frequent use of Koestler's approach to innovation—and I still use it to this day.

the frustrations of small mistakes in video talks

Making online videos is apparently always a challenge. From my experience, the results are always uneven, largely because there are always mistakes. Some months ago, for example, I made what is presumably the best of my eighteen video talks—or at least the most popular one. The title is Art, Design and Gestalt Theory: The Film Version, and currently (although I do not promote it by pleading for viewers to “like and subscribe”) on the average it is being watched by someone, somewhere in the world, day and night, about once per hour. As good as it is, I still wince in response to its errors.

One that always bothers me is a scene in which I provide an example of the simultaneous contrast of color, in which a single color appears to be two noticeably different colors, when placed in different settings. The still shot reproduced above is the slide that I intended to use. It is a persuasive example of simultaneous contrast, because the field of background gray (behind the name Bing Crosby) conspicuously appears to be two distinctively different grays. This is the image I should have used, and everything would have been perfectly fine. Unfortunately, as I was editing the final version, I slightly adjusted the overall color balance—with the result that the contrast effect is far too subtle in the film.

Temple Grandin and the Ames Demonstrations

Good news travels slowly here. I recently ran across a book by Temple Grandin (widely-known authority on autism and animal science) published in 2018, titled Calling All Minds: How To Think and Create Like An Inventor (New York: Philomel Books). In other words, it has been in print for six years—but only now have I discovered that I am mentioned by name in its pages.

Grandin is world-famous, and I have long been interested in her work. Few people are as widely admired. Since 1984, she has been the recipient of 101 prestigious awards, including honorary doctorates from the leading universities, being chosen for Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People, inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Science, and named as one of the Top Best College Professors in the US.

That’s phenomenal. Given all that she’s achieved, how could she possibly even attend all those award ceremonies, and still remain productive? She is one year younger than I am. I cannot begin to imagine receiving so many awards—I would never have accomplished anything. Maybe I am fortunate that the less-than-prestigous awards I've received can be counted on one hand. And I don’t have extra digits.

My interest in Grandin reached its peak in 2010, with the release of a popular Hollywood film about her life, in which she was portrayed by actress Clare Danes. At the beginning of the film, we learn about a turn of events that occured while she was in high school. She saw an educational film about the then popular laboratory experiments of American artist and optical physiologist Adelbert (Del) Ames, Jr., usually referred to as the Ames Demonstrations. The best-known of these are the Ames Window (in which a rotating window-like cut-out appears not to rotate, but to sway back and forth), and the Ames Distorted Room (in which people’s sizes appear to change as they move around a cleverly misshapen room interior).

Since Grandin and I are nearly the same age, we were probably introduced to the Ames Demonstrations at around the same time. Her response was to try to figure out how to build an Ames Room. She succeeded. As an aspiring art student, with a familarity with perpective and anamorphosis, I too replicated an Ames Room, an Ames Window, and other demonstrations, then spent a substantial amount of my life researching and writing about his development as an artist. And indeed, today I continue to publish new findings.

Over the years, I published multiple articles on the Ames Demonstrations and their significance. In the text and bibliography of her book, Grandin refers to one of my articles, published in 1987, titled “The Life and Unusual Ideas of Adelbert Ames, Jr.” In the text, she even mentions me by name, for which I am grateful, because it is far more common for other authors to make blatant use of another author’s research, but neglect to credit it as a source.

In this case, there is a peripheral downside. While I have been credited, it was disappointing to find that I was also wrongly quoted. In my article, I had quoted a published statement by prominent Harvard psychologist Jerome Bruner, who had been married to Ames’s niece. Bruner and his wife’s uncle apparently had their quibbles, and, in his autobiography (1983), Bruner discounted the impact of Ames’s research with the following statement: “It was demonstration that he [Ames] was after, not experimental manipulation. And demonstration of a kind that, I think, speaks more to the artist’s wonder than to the scientist’s. In the end, he had little impact on psychology or philosophy, but he continues to facinate artists.”

In Grandin’s book, she doesn’t mention Bruner. She states instead that it was “Roy R. Behrens, Professor of Art at the University of Northern Iowa” who “concludes that much of Ames’s work has more appeal for the artist than for the scientist. As a visual thinker, I have to disagree.” But I myself did not disparage Ames’s work. I only quoted Bruner, as one view of a prominent scientist, which, in the original article, I then qualified with a lengthy footnote on writings by others who may or may not have agreed with Bruner’s dismissive assessment.

In the end it doesn’t especially matter of course. I continue to be greatly pleased to have been mentioned by someone whose achievements are exemplary, and whose work is so well known.

•••

NOTES
Temple Grandin has also written about her interest in the Ames Demonstrations in Temple Grandin and Margaret M. Scariano, Emergence: Labeled Autistic, New York: Warner Books, 1996.

More recently, I have produced a series of three online video talks (30 minutes each) which provide an overview of Del Ames, his life and his accomplishments. These to some extent are based on my published research articles, but they also include new, surprising information that I have found more recently. These can be accessed free online at <https://youtu.be/MAEjgatMkio>, <https://youtu.be/-8gaYm2FUI0>, and <https://youtu.be/mxOEx2JLQBA>. My articles on Ames include:

Roy R. Behrens, “The Life and Unusual Ideas of Adelbert Ames, Jr,” in Leonardo, vol 20 no 3 (1987), pp. 273-279.
______________, “Adelbert Ames and the Cockeyed Room,” in Print magazine, vol 48 no 2 (1994), pp. 92–97.
______________, “Eyed Awry: The Ingenuity of Del Ames,” in North American Review, vol 282 no 2 (1997), pp. 26-33.
______________, “The Artistic and Scientific Collaboration of Blanche Ames Ames and Adelbert Ames II,” in Leonardo, vol 31 (1998), pp. 47-54.
______________, “Adelbert Ames, Fritz Heider, and the Chair Demonstration,” in Gestalt Theory, vol 21 (1999),” pp. 184–190.
 

I have also provided Ames biographical articles for Encyclopedia of Perception, Grove Online Dictionary of Art, askArt, and Allgemeines Kunstlerlexikon.

the education of vision—before it's too late

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzYrUfsAvkZur5cBv6xlhSg

 

raw canvas / so many areas were left unfinished

Paul Cézanne, The Bathers

Donald M. Anderson, Elements of Design. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1961—

Toward the end of his career [Paul] Cézanne often found that raw canvas provided the proper tone for some passages. Max Weber, the distinguished American painter, relates that when Henri Rousseau, the primitive genius, saw such a passage in Cézanne’s The Bathers, he remarked, “Too bad he left so many places unfinished. I wish I had it in my studio, I could finish it nicely.”

Oops / John Sloan & Adelbert Ames, Jr. riposte

still image from online Ames video trilogy

Oops. Soon after posting that quote about the friendship of Adelbert Ames Jr. (born aristocrat) and artist and socialist John Sloan (born democrat), about how opposite they were, I ran across new information. Herbert Faulkner West’s account may have made it sound as if the social status of Ames, in comparison to Sloan, was completely one-sided. But soon after we found that Sloan had moved to Hanover NH in part because his cousin, John Sloan Dickey, was the president of Dartmouth College during the 1950s and 1960s. That may have tipped the scales a tad, although not completely.

John Sloan / simple, modest & absolutely no airs

John Sloan, Cover illustration (1914)

Herbert Faulkner West, John Sloan's Last Summer. Iowa City IA: Prairie Press, 1952—

I was talking one day with Adelbert Ames, Jr., of the Hanover Institute, researcher, painter and experimenter in color, whose background was about as dissimilar to Sloan’s as could be imagined—Ames who went to Andover and Harvard; Sloan who went for a while to Philadelphia public schools and then graduated to newspaper offices in the same city. One the born aristocrat; the other the born democrat. Yet both got on wonderfully together, and Mr. Ames said to me one day about Sloan: “You can see what a really great man is like—simple, modest, and absolutely no airs whatever.”

John Sloan (1891)

 

Writer Ruth Suckow / Cedar Falls Connection

The success of the Ruth Suckow Traveling Exhibition is non-stop. It continues to travel throughout the state, to libraries, history centers, and other public venues. It has now been booked for exhibits through all of 2025. That’s pretty amazing.

It is currently on exhibit at the Cedar Falls Public Library (Cedar Falls IA), where it will remain on view through Sunday, August 4. Above is a view of a detail of the installation from a video on the website of the Waterloo Courier. In addition, just two days from now, there will be a program (free and open to the public) titled Iowa Writer Ruth Suckow: The Cedar Falls Connection, on Monday (July 8) at 6 pm at the library in the upstairs meeting room.

cliff-hanging illusions as used in early films

Above Advertisement for a Hal Roach 1923 film comedy starring Harold Lloyd, called Safety Last. It shows him hanging precariously from a high-rise window ledge, with a distant busy street below. But in fact that’s not the case. As shown in the diagram below (from E.G. Lutz, The Motion Picture Cameraman), it is all an ingenious camera trick, albeit one that looks utterly real. 

Lloyd posed for various scenes like this, such a below, in which he seems to be suspended from the clockface on a building. When movement is added, both that of the actor and those on the street, it is even more convincing.

Comparable tricks were later used by American artist and optical physiologist Adelbert (Del) Ames II in developing the Ames Demonstrations in Perception, which we have discussed at length in a triad of online videos, titled The Man Who Made Distorted Rooms.

an expatriate artist in Paris with Gertrude Stein

just published more>>>

which [two] things belong together // grouping

Art, Design and Gestalt Theory: The Film Version

 

art, design, architecture / online published links

more>>>

 

Del Ames and Blanche Ames Ames / Vision & Art

Just posted: Reprint of an article by Margaret Fitzhugh Browne, originally published in 1922 in The Boston Transcript, about the art and vision research of Adelbert (Del) Ames, Jr., and Blanche Ames Ames.

Del Ames, Frank Lloyd Wright & Guggenheim

Guggenheim Museum under construction

The famous bungled robbery of the First National Bank in Northfield MN took place on September 7, 1876. The outlaw gang was headed by Jesse James and Cole Younger, who, as ardent Southerners, were infused with anger about the recent Civil War. 

They were especially resentful toward Union General Adelbert Ames (Reconstruction Governor of Mississippi), and his father-in-law, General Benjamin F. Butler (both greatly hated in the South). In postwar years, the James and Younger gang had learned that ex-Governor Ames had moved north to Minnesota, where he (and General Butler) had invested in a flour mill on the Cannon River, and were on the board of directors at the Northfield bank.

Nearly one hundred years later, in 1972, the Northfield Historical Society produced a publication about the city’s history, titled Nuggets from Rice County Southern Minnesota History, which featured articles about the bank robbery as well as the role the Ames family in the development of the town. That publication was edited by a Northfield architect and local historian named Robert Roy (Bob) Warn (1924-1977), who had been a student of Frank Lloyd Wright at Taliesen, near Spring Green WI, in the late 1940s or early 1950s.

In that publication, Warn briefly mentions that a son of General Ames was Adelbert Ames Jr. (aka Adelbert Ames II) (1880-1955). Initially trained as a lawyer, the younger Ames switched professions from law to art, to psychology and optics. During the 1940s, he became especially known for having devised about twenty illusion-based laboratory set-ups called the Ames Demonstrations in Perception, notably the Ames Distorted Room and the Rotating Trapezoid Window.

laboratory-sized Ames Room

In March 1947, as part of its bicentennial, Princeton University hosted a three-day conference on “Planning Man’s Physical Environment.” Invited as participants were seventy prominent speakers, among them leading architects, philosophers, and social psychologists [see photo below]. Adelbert (Del) Ames Jr. (of whom most were probably unaware) was among those featured, as was the famous (and typically outspoken) Frank Lloyd Wright, who gave a controversial speech. The two men met, during which Wright spoke admiringly of the Ames Demonstrations, which had been on exhibit at Princeton for three months.

Ames (5 from left) and Wright (2 from right), front row

Following the conference, Wright recommended Ames’ demonstrations to others, including George Nelson, the well-known industrial designer. In a letter to artist / educator Hoyt Sherman at Ohio State University, Ames wrote that “I had the most interesting and stimulating time at Princeton. Practically all the attending members went through the demonstrations and got a great kick out of them, and all wanted copies of any literature that we had on the matter.”

Back at Wright’s Wisconsin studio-school (as recalled by Northfield historian Warn), the architect “told us, his apprentices, of his meeting with Ames at Princeton University…and how the SR Guggenheim Museum, then being designed, was to be an institute for the celebration of the eye—an optical museum.”

It was Wright’s idea that the Ames Demonstrations should be a permanent part of the Guggenheim Museum, but that decision could only be made by Baroness Hilla von Rebay, who was the museum’s co-founder and first director. Solomon Guggenheim was 88 years old (he died the following year), and the baroness (as Ames documents attest) was “in full control of his art expenditures.” As one of Ames’ associates (John Pearson) noted in a memo after the Princeton event, “She [the baroness] is one of the strangest persons in the world, a psychopathic case, a mystic, a very troublesome person, a hero worshiper.” Whatever Wright’s ambitions, the best that he could hope for was a meeting between Ames, Rebay, and himself. But that meeting never took place. Later, a separate proposal was made (without Wright’s involvement) to exhibit the Ames Demonstrations at the Museum of Modern Art, by appealing to Rene d’Harnoncourt, the museum’s director, but that too did not come about.

•••

As a young graphic design teacher (c1970) who believed that art, design, and architecture should be informed by vision, I replicated some of the Ames Demonstrations for use in exhibits and classroom teaching, and began to publish articles on such subjects as Gestalt theory, anamorphosis, stereo vision, and camouflage. Over the years, my interest in Ames has continued intermittently. I visited Northfield, spoke at Dartmouth, and corresponded now and then with his associates and relatives (among his nephews was the writer George Plimpton). I also published articles on his demonstrations, his early collaboration with his sister (artist and suffragist Blanche Ames Ames), and the indebtedness of his work to anamorphic distortion in art, to disruptively-patterned ship camouflage (called “dazzle camouflage”), to aspects of Gestalt theory, and to the early experiments in cinema by Dudley Murphy (who worked as Ames’ laboratory assistant), Fernand Leger, Man Ray, and others.

In 2022, having strayed into producing online documentary talks, I made a three-part series of films (30 minutes each) about Ames’ life and influence, titled Ames and Anamorphosis: THE MAN WHO MADE DISTORTED ROOMS. These are accessible online, and free to share with others.

•••

Since the 1930s (almost a century has passed), interest in Del Ames and his demonstrations has risen and fallen, time after time, as society’s concerns have changed. At Harvard, Ames had studied with William James. Eventually, he became associated with Transactionalism, a spin-off of Pragmatism (inspired by John Dewey), in which it was asserted that human experience is not direct objective witnessing, but consists of an amalgam of sensory input, past experience, desires and expectations.

Del Ames may be due for revival again, if (to quote Peter Godfrey-Smith in the June 2024 issue of The New York Review of Books) “we have nothing like the simple, direct contact with the world around us that we suppose. Instead…our brains actively synthesize a picture of the world, continually guessing, extrapolating, and projecting.” And while our sensory input may constrain what we experience, “the constraint can be tenuous, and ordinary perception may be akin to a ‘controlled hallucination’…”

As Ames himself once put it: “The things we see are the mind’s best bet as to what is out front.”

hearing-aid / who now has heard of Leo Stein?

Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas

Jo Davidson, Between Sittings. New York: Dial Press, 1951, pp. 174-175—

To [sculpt] a head of Gertrude [Stein] was not enough—there was so much more to her than that. So I did a seated figure of her—a sort of modern Buddha.

I had known her since my first trip to France. She and her brother Leo had two adjoining studios. Doors had been cut through, connecting the two studios; and every Saturday afternoon, the studios were jammed with visitors of various nationalities, either gaping, in earnest discussions, or laughing at the Matisses and the Picassos. Gertrude would stand with her back to the fireplace, her hands clasped behind her back, watching the crowd like a Cambodian caryatid, wearing a smile of patience, looking as if she knew something that nobody else did.

In the other studio, Leo, tall and lean, with a red beard, would talk earnestly about esthetics to anyone who was prepared to listen. In the excitement of his conversation, he generally twisted a button of his listener's waistcoat until it became a straitjacket. One could not get a word in edgewise. All one could do was to wait patiently for him to let go of the button and then make an escape.

Years later I was walking along Fifth Avenue in New York when I ran into Leo Stein. He was no longer bearded, and was wearing a conspicuous hearing-aid. He greeted me effusively: “Remember when I used to talk and talk and never would listen. Now I want to hear and can’t.”

Leo and Gertrude Stein (kaput)

 

the anatomy of a conference / design education

download pdf

Earlier this week, I posted online this six-page pdf of a printed booklet that served as the schedule of events at a gathering that I was partly responsible for in 2005. It was a conference about design in relation to teaching—not only graphic design, but a more inclusive category, including, for example, industrial and architectural design. The conference title was THE BAUHAUS AND BEYOND 1919-2005: The Shape of Design Education.

Although this conference took place almost twenty years ago, it may be of value to current design faculty at art schools, colleges, universities, art centers, and museums. Conferences (whether online or in-person) can be inspiring events for both faculty and students. But they may as first appear to require too much effort on the part of those who organize them, or perhaps they aren’t affordable.

This booklet documents a conference that was one of three that were organized and hosted by members of the graphic design faculty and students at the University of Northern Iowa. In all three cases, the conferences were carried out with all but zero funding. A "call for proposals" poster was prepared, and sent out, months in advance, postage free, by distributing an email to prospective participants, with a pdf attached. Those who participated in the conference (whether presenters or attendees) were required to provide their own transportation, lodging and meals.

No honoraria or travel allowances were given for presenters, albeit with two exceptions, consisting of prominent speakers who had traveled in and were speaking elsewhere in the region, so that some costs could be shared between schools. The conference were purposely held on days of the week (Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday morning) when the departmental building spaces would most likely be available. Parking might also have been a problem (as is nearly always true for anything other than sports events), but that problem was avoided because campus parking was free and unrestricted on weekends.

Particular attention was given to making the conference schedule align with already-scheduled campus events, such as the annual student art exhibition, and an annual graphic design student portfolio review. Components were scheduled in such a way that participants might easily choose to be present for only the one full-day sequence of events, which took place on Saturday.

We used this method of sponsoring conferences on three occasions, over the span of three or four years. The approach worked reasonably well each time. Comparable information about the two other conferences will be posted here in the near future. Again, the full multi-page pdf can be downloaded here.

do portraits begin to resemble their subjects?

William Zorach, Art Is My Life: The autobiography of William Zorach. Cleveland OH: World Publishing, 1967, p 130—

There is a disconcerting thing about portraits. Someone does your portrait and you don't like it, your friends don't like it; everyone says it doesn't look like you. A few years go by and you look like that portrait and all your family and all your friends say, "What a good likeness." People, they say, begin to look like their dogs. Maybe this is somewhat the same thing.

what traveling with a wagon train was really like

Above Fred Stone was a famous Vaudeville performer, one of the best. He was also the best friend of Will Rogers. Among his many achievements, he played the Scarecrow in the 1902 stage production of the Wizard of Oz. He is shown above with David Montgomery, who was cast as the Tin Woodman.

•••

Fred Stone (in his autobiography), Rolling Stone. New York: Whittlesey House, 1945, pp. 3 and 5—

The day they were married, my father and mother hitched their team to a prairie schooner and joined the procession that was trailing out across Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, and Colorado…

We went into Garden City, Kansas—so called because there wasn’t a garden within a thousand miles—with a train of seventy-three prairie schooners. People were traveling together for protection from the Indians, for there were still Indian raids over the prairies, and buffalo, bear, and deer were plentiful. But though I saw lots of Indians at Garden City, they were all friendly, and the only marauders father had to contend with were the white men who tried to steal everything in those covered wagons, from the bedding to the wooden wheels. So when father stood on watch all night, with a shotgun in his hand, it was not because any redskin was going to bite the dust. It was because some of his fellow travelers were as apt as not to take his prairie schooner apart in the night if there was anything in it they fancied.

Ruth Suckow exhibition at Bettendorf IA Library

Good news! This is an installation view of the traveling exhibition about the life and work of Iowa novelist and short story writer Ruth Suckow (pronounced Soo-Co). It was organized and produced by Iowa writer Barbara Lounsberry (UNI professor emerita of literature), who is also the president of the Ruth Suckow Memorial Association. I was fortunate to be asked to design the exhibition panels, the banner and the shipping crate.

The above is how the exhibition looks, as currently installed at the Bettendorf Public Library in Bettendorf IA. Bravo! What a neat, professional way of setting it up. 

This is hardly its first exhibition. The initial traveling show took place in January of this year at a location near the extreme western edge of the state, and it has now proven so popular among Iowa libraries and history centers that it has been booked for more than a year in the future. With each display, there are also various public events, such as a presentation at the Bettendorf Library on Thursday, April 18, at 1:30 to 2:30 pm, titled Profound Realism: The Rediscovery of Ruth Suckow, featuring Michael and Hedy Hustedde. The exhibition is on display at Bettendorf from April 14 through May 12. 

Other libraries or history centers who would like to host the exhibition in the future will find information here.

Alan Watts / merely a philosophical entertainer?

from Art, Design and Gestalt Theory: The Film Version

Currently I am reading the autobiography of Alan Watts (1915-1973), the British-born philosopher (whom some have dismissed as a “philosophical entertainer”), who popularized Zen Buddhism and other aspects of Asian philosophy. To my dismay, I am not enjoying it.

That said, I remain indebted to his introduction to The Two Hands of God: The Myths of Polarity (NY: Braziller, 1963), which I first read secretly (since books were banned as “contraband”) while undergoing US Marine Corps infantry training. Back then, I was enamored by the resemblance between Watts’ essay and my own understanding of Gestalt theory (which had influenced him as well), which I had discovered as an undergraduate art student.

I wish his autobiography had been as precisely and sparingly phrased. But I would like to share the following passage, in which he bemoans his own education, and provides a list of components that he regards as more essential. Do not try this at home.

•••

Alan Watts, In My Own Way: An Autobiography, 1915-1965. NY: Pantheon Books, 1972, pp. 92-93–

[In an ideal education] I would have arranged for myself to be taught survival techniques for both natural and urban wildernesses. I would want to have been instructed in self hypnosis, in azkido (the esoteric and purely self-defensive style of judo), in elementary medicine, in sexual hygiene, in vegetable gardening, in astronomy, navigation, and sailing; in cookery and clothesmaking, in metalwork and carpentry, in drawing and painting, in printing and typography, in botany and biology, in optics and acoustics, in semantics and psychology, in mysticism and yoga, in electronics and mathematical fantasy, in drama and dancing, in singing and in playing an instrument by ear; in wandering, in advanced daydreaming, in prestidigitation, in techniques of escape from bondage, in disguise, in conversation with birds and beasts, in ventriloquism, and in classical Chinese.

Ruth Suckow / most promising writer of fiction

Ruth Suckow (pronounced soo-co) (1892-1960), an Iowa-born novelist and short story writer, was at one time expected to become one of the most accomplished writers of the Modern era. She was, in the words of literary critic H.L. Mencken, “the most promising young writer of fiction, man or woman, now visibly at work in America.” It was not a light endorsement, since Mencken also had high praise for James Joyce, Eugene O’Neill, and Theodore Dreiser.

She lived until 1960, having published nine novels in which she invariably tried to convey the experience of living in the American Midwest. From her awkward family name, her roots are undoubtedly German, which may be one of the reasons why Mencken was drawn to her writing. But as she herself recalled, “There was nothing German in our home except noodle soup, a tree and frosted cookies at Christmas, and brown-covered copies of Die Gartenlaube [a popular German magazine].”

In fact, her origins also go back to Puritan New England, to the “different drummer” proclivities of Unitarians and Transcendentalists. As she was growing up, her father was a Congregational minister in Iowa, in the course of which the family moved from one community to another. In her own lifetime, Suckow lived in at least sixteen Iowa communities, among them Hawarden (her birthplace), LeMars, Paullina, Algona, Fort Dodge, Des Moines, Grinnell, McGregor, Manchester, Earlville, Bettendorf, and Cedar Falls. At other times, she also lived in Greenwich Village in New York, and in California.

In recent decades, there has been a focused effort, by writers who admire her work, to restore at least some portion of Suckow’s literary prominence, to encourage a new awareness and appreciation of her work. As a result, in 1966, six years after Suckow’s death, the Ruth Suckow Memorial Association was established. In the years since, that organization has gathered annually to share their findings about her work, while also enabling a range of events.

Under the leadership of Iowa writer Barbara Lounsberry, who is currently the president of the RSMA, funding support was obtained from Humanities Iowa, for the design, production and distribution of a traveling exhibition, titled Ruth Suckow: An Exhibition about Her Life. The exhibit consists of eight full-color printed panels, each measuring 24 inches wide by 36 inches high. Using photographs, book covers, and critical excerpts, the exhibit tells the story of Suckow’s Iowa childhood, the sequence of her published work, and assessments of her accomplishments by various writers and scholars.

The exhibit was completed in 2023, and was first exhibited at the public library in Hawarden IA (where Suckow was born) from January 1 through 28, 2024. It has proven to be popular, and current requests to host it (for one month) at libraries, historical centers, or other non-profit locations in Iowa have now been scheduled through the middle of 2025. The following is an incomplete listing of exhibition dates and locations:

February 4 - March 3, 2024 at Burt Public Library
March 10 - April 7 at Orange City Public Library
April 14 - May 12 at Bettendorf Public Library
May 19 - June 16 at Urbandale Public Library
June 23 - August 4 at Cedar Falls Public Library
August 11 - September 8 at Polk City Public Library
September 15 - October 13 at Robey Memorial Library, Waukon
October 20 - December 1 at Ruth Suckow Public Library, Earlville
December 8, 2024 - January 5, 2025 at Kendall Young Library, Webster City
January 12 - February 9, 2025 at Drake Community Library, Grinnell
February 16 - March 16 at Manchester Public Library
March 23 - April 20 at LeMars Public Library
Also scheduled in 2025 for Atlantic, and Shenandoah libraries

To apply to host the exhibit in 2025 or later, go to the RSMA website at <ruthsuckow.org>.

i believe in the imaginative life and love to talk

© Mary Snyder Behrens

Above Mary Snyder Behrens, Edo Wan (1988). Textile collage with machine stitching. 38h x 45w. Private collection.

•••

These are the concluding words in Sherwood Anderson’s foreward to his autobiography, as published in Ray Lewis White, ed., Sherwood Anderson’s Memoirs: A Critical Edition, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969, p.29—

I am an imaginative man. I believe in the imaginative life, its importance and would like to write of that. My readers, therefore, those who go long with me, will have to be patient…

…I shall tell the tale as though you, the reader, were a personal friend. We are walking together, let’s say, on a country road. The road follows a stream and the day is pleasant. We are unhurried. We stop at times to sit on a rock beside the stream. We arise and walk again and I talk.

I keep talking, love to talk. I am telling you that this thing happened to me, that that thing happened.

Do you wish I would stop talking, let you talk? Why then, dear reader, go write your own book.

John Page / painter, printmaker and professor

site link

Just today, I have designed and posted a new website about the life and work of Iowa-based printmaker, painter and teacher John H. Page (1923-2018). I hope it will be of interest to those who know and admire his work—as well as to those who have never heard of him.

newly revised site map for ballast / camoupedia

At long last. We have finally succeeded in cleaning house on our website—or at least on the site directory. Essays, design and art portfolio, blog links, online video talks: all in one location.

she spent half her life in a pink chenille robe

Above Image sequence from a talk I once presented on the history of chair design, called Sitting Down with Frank Lloyd Wright.

•••

Richard Critchfield, Those Days: An American Album. New York: Dell, 1986, pp. 376—

In one corner of the dining room, by the hot-air register, was a big old Morris chair, where Betty, when she still worked at the bakery, would sit and fall asleep, she was so tired. Billy used to say, "Betty's spent half her waking life in a pink chenille robe." The stairwell to the attic was always loaded with things left there by somebody intending to take them up later: books, clothes, tennis rackets, skates, Tinker Toys, little trucks that always seemed to have a wheel missing. Like the road to hell, the stairs were paved with good intentions. 

we do not first see, we define first and then see

related online video talks

Walter Lippmann, Public Opinion. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1922, p. 81—

[In Art as Experience, John Dewey] gives an example of how differently an experienced layman and a chemist might define the word metal. "Smoothness, hardness, glossiness, and brilliancy, heavy weight for its size…the serviceable properties of capacity for being hammered and pulled without breaking, of being softened by heat and hardened by cold, of retaining the shape and form given, of resistance to pressure and decay, would be included" in the layman's definition. But the chemist would likely as not ignore these esthetic and utilitarian qualities, and define a metal as "any chemical element that enters into combination with oxygen so as to form a base."

For the most part we do not first see, and then define, we define first and then see. In the great blooming, buzzing confusion of the outer world we pick out what our culture has already defined for us, and we tend to perceive that which we have picked out in the form stereotyped for us by our culture.

regarding montages and vision

 

the extraordinary visions of Joseph Podlesnik

Above The photographs of Joseph Podlesnik are simply astonishing. A large selection are on sale through December 8, 2023, online here.

PBS gift / Frank Lloyd Wright and Mason City

I couldn't be more delighted to see that my recent book, titled Frank Lloyd Wright and Mason City: Architectural Heart of the Prairie, is currently being offered as a free donation bonus in the fundraising campaign on Iowa PBS. It is featured in two donation options online here and here. 

I think it's a pretty good overview of the influence of European and Japanese traditions on Wright's architectural style (and vice versa), as well as an explanation of why Mason City's architecture is of genuine significance. There is a shortage of serious writing about the importance of things that surround us.

a meeting of midwestern minds? one gets nasty

The lives of Wisconsin-born architect Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959) and Iowa-born artist Grant Wood (1891-1942) overlapped for a half-century. For a dozen or so of their mutual years, they were both celebrities within their respective professions. Surely, they were well aware of each other's work—but did the two men ever meet?

Wood was greatly interested in architecture, as is apparent in the subject matter of his paintings. But what did he think of Wright's architecture? And, in turn, what was Wright's opinion of the Regionalist paintings of Grant Wood and others? Based on evidence from the time, this essay surmises the answer.

the process by which creativity works / koestler

Roy R. Behrens, from the film narration in HOW TO WIN KINGS AND INFLUENCE CABBAGES: The Process by Which Creativity Works (2022), free to watch online on YouTube here—

As a college student, I was required to read for a humanities class Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon, Albert Camus’ The Stranger, and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit. Years later, I found out that, amusingly, all three of these literary titans had been drinking companions in postwar Paris, and that on one unforgettable evening in 1949 a greatly intoxicated Koestler (who was small and reputedly scrappy) had thrown a glass at Sartre and given Camus a black eye.

My favorite photograph of Koestler was made in the same year as that famous brawl by Dmitri Kessel for Life magazine [see above]. A double portrait of the Hungarian-born British writer and his magnificent boxer Sabby, it is memorable in part because of the uncanny resemblance between dog and master—boxer meets boxer, they seem deliberately to be imitating one another.

It is also, as might be said, a “self-exemplifying” image because that portrait is a superb example of what Koestler identified as the key ingredient throughout all creative activity: “The discovery of hidden similarities” or bisociation (perceiving things “in two self-consistent but incompatible frames of reference at the same time”).

newly published book on Blanche Ames Ames

Above I’ve been writing about the Ames family for more than 50 years. I myself don’t know of a family that is more colorful or complex. I refer to those descended from the marriage of Union General Adelbert Ames (Reconstruction governor of Mississippi) and Blanche Butler, who was the daughter of the notorious General Benjamin F. Butler.

One of their sons was Adelbert (Del) Ames, Jr., an artist and optical scientist who devised the well-known Ames Demonstrations in psychology (such as his Distorted Room). One of their daughters was an artist and equal rights proponent named Blanche Ames Ames. She has that double name because she married Harvard orchid expert Oakes Ames, whose ancestors had made their fortune providing shovels to those who went west to pan for gold or who worked on the Transcontinental Railroad.

Ames, Iowa, is named for a prominent family member. George Plimpton’s mother was an Ames, and it appears there is also a link to Aldrich Ames, the famous spy. My main interest has usually been the artist and scientist Del Ames, about whom I have published various essays over the years and, more recently, have produced a series of three short online videos.

But I’ve also always been intrigued by Del’s sister, Blanche, in part because he and she worked in tandem on art and science research in the years before the outbreak of World War I. In recent years, there have been various efforts to unearth and celebrate the achievements of Blanche Ames Ames, whose magnificent self-designed mansion is now Borderland State Park in Massachusetts, just south of Boston, a site that is well-worth the visit.

Last year, a 55-minute film was produced, titled Borderland: The Life and Times of Blanche Ames Ames. And now, most recently, a new book has just been published about the shared lives of Blanche Ames and her husband. Titled Blanche Ames Ames (1878-1969) and Oakes Ames (1874-1950): Cultivating That Mutual Ground (Eugene OR: Resource Publications), it was written by Elizabeth F. Fideler, a Harvard scholar who has published earlier books about aging, retirement and related concerns. Especially for those who are interested in the Ames family, women’s studies, and the chemistry of married life, it is a praiseworthy overview of the accomplishments of an amazing American woman.