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PhCEnix
University of Tennessee
The Phoenix examines the visual arts this quarter. With our society becoming more
visually-oriented, much of the influential work can be traced to the campuses,
including UT. Many art students here have continued to win awards for their work.
Commercial galleries are flourishing, even in Knoxville, so there appears to be a
decent public demand for art. We have interviewed several artists who share their
perspective of their particular creative medium. We also present a look at the
photography and filmmaking courses dispersed throughout various departments
of UT. The instructors for these courses indicate a strong student interest in
photography, yet there is no coordination of these courses for a student
who wishes to specialize in photography. However, in the area of film
making there is a University Committee on Film Studies. The
committee proposes an interdepartmental program of Film
Studies, but the University lacks the funds to implement
it. The Phoenix hopes the Film Studies program
and some sort of photography program
will be established soon.
Cover by Steven Lavaggi
art
PHOENIX PROFILE: Maxi Chan-Ron Wynn interviews Maxi, a
graphic communications senior from Hong Kong, with his
comments on the differences between Western and oriental art.
PHOENIX PROFILE: Dr. Richard Kelly, Dr. B. J. Leggett-Two
prominent UT English professors discuss how they became
successful wa tercolor artists; by Connie Jones.
Prints & Paintings- Prints by Carol Wheat, Steve Rechichar,
Jonathan Long and David Carpenter; paintings by Mike Fann, Ted
Rose, Susan Harrill and Ron Milhoan.
Browsing in the Local Galleries-Eric Forsbergh surveys
four of Knoxville's largest art galleries.
PHOENIX PROFILE: Bob Cothran- The UT Theatre's set designer
discusses the metaphors in his sets and the problems inherent
in creating attractive posters; by Chris Grabenstein.
photography
6
14
16
21
23
Photojournalism- Photographs by former UT student Michael
O'Brien, now a photographer for The Miami News,
highlight an article by Bill Sims.
2
Photographs- by Jonathan Daniel, Dolly Berthelot, Ronnie
Berthelot, Harry Weill, Steven Lavaggi and Peter Andreae.
8
Computer Graphics- Scientists at Ferris Hall discuss
their computer program which brings out obscure details in
photographs; by Kathleen King Proffitt.
The Camera in the Classroom- Instructors of several photography
and film classes explain the work done in their courses and
their views on academic photography at UT; by Susan Betts.
The Sinking Creek Film Celebration- A close look at this five-day
festival of lectures, workshops and top-rate experimental films
held at Vanderbilt University; by Max Heine.
creative writing
Sunday Afternoon TV- Tune in for the "Wild World of Sports'
Special Report on Protective Coverings;" fiction by Pat Gray.
Poetry- by Carl Savage, Valere Menefee, Kathy Proffitt, Eric
Forsbergh, H. Ernest Lewald, Quentin Powers, Susan Betts, Marla
Puziss, Pat Gray, Pamela Criner, Sandy Sneed and M. E. Morrow.
T o nigh t- Tonight's not like just any night when it's
Saturday and you're going steady and parked at Lady of the Lake;
fiction by Zack Binkley.
24
30
33
12
26
34
Prints & Paintings, p. 16.
Photojournalism, p. 2.
Computer Graphics, p. 24.
Fiction, p. 12.
1
The photos of the Miami Rescue
Mission accompanying this article were
taken by award-winning photographer
Michael O'Brien, a UT graduate in
philosophy now working for The Miami
News. They were recently published in a
photo essay by the News.
In the pews, looking at the sign that
says "] esus Never Fails," is the old wino
Wesley.
"I want to shake it .. .I want to but I
got a craving for it. If I take one drink,"
he whispers, "I gotta have more."
Then the tears begin, big and heavy.
" ... get blackouts .. .I do things I can't
remember afterward," he says. "God I
wish I had a drink ... "
"These men know the reality of
hell," the mission director says.
Michael
O'Brien
walks
quietly
through the old Miami Rescue Mission.
He enters the reality of these old men
from Skid Row, waiting, anticipating
situations that will add symbolism to his
photos. He raises his camera from time
to time and takes a few frames. The
only sound is the slow clicking of his
camera's shutter in the dim light of the
room filled with bunk beds and tired,
sick men.
Even though he seems to work slowly
and unobtrusively, he is making
hundreds of quick decisions that make
him
one
of
the
outstanding
photojournalists in the country-which
lens, subject angle and motion, shutter
speed and depth of field. He moves
slowly around the rooms, adjusting his
aperture, focusing, and placing the
elements of each picture the way he
wants.
Michael knows how to get the most
out of each situation. He has superb
technical
knowledge.
But
more
importan t, he feels for his subject.
Michael works with his camera to
understand people's lives, to share their
problems in new perspectives with the
mass audience of today's newspapers.
Photojournalism has come to power
in our visually-oriented society. This
power of the photographer to sum up
the news, to take us places we will never
go, to even bring about significant social
change has grown dramatically since its
inception in the late 1800's. The New
York Tribune published the first
by Bill Sims
half-tone reproduction of photographs
for its mass audience in 1897. Among
the first subjects featured were those
depicting the housing conditions of New
York's poor.
Fro m
the
very
beginning,
photojournalism was used, in the words
of Dorthea Lange, to "say something
about the despised, the defeated, the
alienated ... About the crippled, the
helpless, the rootless ...About duress
and trouble ... About the last ditch."
Today,
everywhere
we
turn-newspapers, television, magazines,
billboards, posters and other media-we
receive
the
message
of
the
photojournalist. We, as the audience,
know what a good picture is. Our tastes
have developed to the point where it is
easy to discriminate between good and
bad photos without consciously taking
into consideration such aspects as
balance, contrast and subject matter. We
are simply stimulated by the good,
neutral to the bad.
Photojournalism takes us out of our
own environment to make us tourists in
the lives of others. Michael guides his
audience through other's lives by
carefully selecting the elements and
photos by Michael O'Brien
3
symbols he allows the audience to see in
each photo. He does this by means of
several techniques, such as using a wide
angle or short focal length lens-which
brings more area into a photo-as
opposed to a telephoto lens which has
limited optical field. He can throw the
foreground and/ or background of a
photo out of focus by controlling the
ratio between shutter speed and
aperture setting. He is aware of subtle
changes in lighting. By manipulating
these controls, Michael is able to obtain
the precise photograph he desires.
The
culmination
of all these
techniques is perspective. Photographic
perspective
as
opposed
to
the
perspective of the human eye is quite
different.
The
photographer must
develop the sensitivity to see as through
the camera lens (optically) rather than
using his own broad field of vision.
For example, in a classroom we can
simultaneously see the professor, our
classmates and people throwing frisbees
4
outside the classroom because of this
field of vision. However, the optical
view of the camera is a restricted
rectangle.
Perspective can be changed by using
lens
of different
focal
lengths,
employing light for emphasis or
contrast, and by controlling the depth
of field. This is a creative effort on the
part of the photographer, who must see
the subject through his own eyes as it
will appear through a camera lens and in
the final prin t.
While a student at UT, Michael said,
"You have to have harmony between
your form and content. But I guess the
main
thing
is
trying
to
be
honest ... never
making
anything
contrived. If something is posed or
contrived, the viewer is never going to
believe it."
Michael's pictures are not contrived.
The impact of his photography, like all
good photojournalism, speaks for itself.
•
.....
"
-··"'1116or SH
· ·trOhl. SP.M. tjf 12. ~.......
grophic orts
from a fusion of American and Chinese traditions; he does not want to imitate American
Artists perceive things through many
art. He views the differences between American
and Chinese art as ones of emphasis on
eyes-the eyes of sensation, awareness and
experience. Maxi Tsoi Nam Chan, a graphic
subjects. Chinese art, he says, revolves around
communications senior from Hong Kong, brings nature. Contrary to American art, it does not
a wealth of experiences to the visual media.
involve much representation of individuals
During the past school year, Chan's work
and it does not emphasize technology or sex. He
was exhibited in the University Center, the
also feels Chinese art may require more
Sequoyah Library, the UT International House, discipline, but American art gives one more
the Dogwood Arts Festival and the Tennessee
freedom to choose a subject.
Valley Unitarian Church. Chan also has had
"I believe the basic difference between
work on display in a few Knoxville art
oriental and western art is that the Chinese ,
galleries.
with 50,000 symbolic characters, represent
His striking representation of the
abstractions of images," he says. "This
mythical Phoenix bird highlighted the fall
permits Chinese paintings to stand separate
quarter Phoenix cover. He is currently doing
from literature. Western art seems to be
some freelance work through an advertising
supported by words explaining its meaning.
agency for Union Carbide. Chan recently won
This dependency lessens the force of the work
the Lutheran Brotherhood National Art Award; of art. Art should stand alone beside literature,
he also became one of 35 finalists for a
science and mathematics."
Chan's style can be called traditional
National Benedictine Art Award. He
since he specializes in Chinese landscapes.
has also received a full scholarship to
He likes nature as a subject, but does not
the School of Visual Arts in New York.
He speaks easily of his heritage,
utilize particular colors to show contrasts.
pointing to an early love of the mountains as
Other visual media he chooses include waterhis impetus for an art career. His desire to
color, photography and Chinese calligraphy.
get closer to nature and become a subtle
"I treat all media and subject matters
owner of it became a basis for his art.
the same," he says. "I often combine
Chan participated in various art and
photography with other media."
design programs in high school, winning
Chan likes going to school and he has
numerous awards. Following graduation, he
made friends easily. He also likes the
had a year of professional design work in the
professors in the art department. He said
Hong Kong Festival Office. Prior to his arrival
they provide a lot of academic freedom and
at UT he was working as a designer at H. K.
are willing to engage in serious discussion.
Marklin, one of the Far East's biggest
Chan is a skilled, hard-working
agencies.
commercial designer and artist. He has an
"I ~on't compromise my art for the sake
interest in every aspect of the visual media
of money," he says in reference to his
and plans a major work which will utilize his
commercial design work. "I won't change a
wide spectrum of knowledge. Meanwhile,
thing when I've finished the design. If the
you can see his work at the University Center,
client doesn't like it, then they can give it
International House or even an occasional
back to me."
cover of the Phoenix .•
Chan wants to create his own unique style
by Ron Wynn
Photo by John DeKalb
6
Maxi Chan, Chinese landscape
Maxi Chan, poster for Union Carbide
Maxi Chan, poster for the Phoenix
7
phot09(Oph~
8
Ronnie Berthelot
Jonathan Daniel
9
Peter Andreae
Harry Weill
10
Steven Lavaggi
11
fiction
"Hi there. Rob Roberts here at
intermission on wild world of Sports
with something I know will be of
interest to all you sports fans. Today
we're bringing you a special "mini-white
paper," as it were, on something that
concerns us all: protective coverings.
Now, I'm not talking about the kind of
by Pat Gray
protective coverings that wear out in a
few years, or even in a few months after
purchase. Nosiree, I'm talking about the
ones with the lifetime guarantees. And
here to illustrate just what I'm talking
about are two giants of the sports
world,
Will
Cheviot
and
David
Chambray. These boys are here to tell
us the advantages and disadvantages of
their respective brands of protective
coverings. We won't mention the brand
names, but
you'll recognize the
Sunday Afternoon TV
12
coverings as soon as you see them on
your color screen.
"Now, as you can see, will here has
the ever-popular golden fawn covering.
Would you mind pivoting here in front
of the camera so the folks at home can
get a good look? Folks, can you see how
snugly it fits across will's muscular
chest? That's a major area of impact for
this internationally known athlete.
Thanks, Will, and now let's take a
look ... "
"Hey, Rob, yours is pretty much like
mine."
"What's that, Will?"
"I say, your covering, it's pretty
much like mine. Is that shade golden
fawn?"
"Well, actually, Will, it's called fawn
beige, I think. But let's move on over to
Dave
and take
a look at his
copper-chestnut covering. Sports fans,
just take a look there as Dave pivots to
give you the full, three-dimensional
effect. Note how well it fits without
sagging and how it hugs those muscular
thighs and calves of his that are so well
known to the sports world. Thanks,
Dave. Dave, I know copper-chestnut just
isn't as popular as the fawn hue, but
how do you like it? That's the main
thing."
"You must be talking about this
country."
"Beg pardon?"
"Y ou
must
be
talking about
copper-chestnut not being as popular in
this country, because I know for a fact
that it's more popular in the rest of the
world."
"He's righ t, Rob."
"All right, fellows, I won't argue with
you. Let's get down to brass tacks. Just
how long have you had these coverings?
will."
"Almost forty years."
"No! You're putting me on. Nothing
lasts that long."
"Would I kid you in front of 40
million p e op Ie?"
"And you, Dave, how long have you
had yours?"
"Forty-five years this spring, Rob."
"Fellows
that's incredible, just
incredible. Can we get a close-up of the
textures, here? Good. That's perfect.
What you're seeing at home, folks, is
will Cheviot's covering there on the left
and Dave Chambray'S on the right.
People don't usually come right out and
say it, but I think most people agree
that the golden fawn is a little better
quality covering."
"Well, actually, Rob, both coverings
are made of the same thing: interlacing
bundles of fibrous and elastic material."
"How do they hold up, then? Let's
compare that, if we can get our
mini-cam to focus on some of the stress
points. Yes ...well ... the fawn covering
does appear to have more wrinkles and
crevices at points of stress. In fact, the
copper-chestnut
has
almost
none. But let's move on now to what
our viewers really want to know, and
that is, just what should today's
consumer look for in protective
coverings? Dave?"
"Rob, first off, you want something
that will protect you-something that
don't get torn or cut easy. Then you
want something that'll keep you warm
when it's cold and cool when it's hot.
You want something that breathes
without abasorbing chemicals that
might slow you down or hurt your
performance. "
"And I take it both you boys think
your protective coverings d9 just that."
"That's right."
"Right on."
"Okay, tell me this then. If you had
to go out and buy a new one tomorrow,
would you buy the same brand? Will?"
"Well, Rob, as you may know,
protective coverings are like a lot of
things manufactured nowadays. The
same company makes the internal
works. But then, they issue the product
in different colors and under different
labels."
"Yeh, like Panasonic makes Penney's
brand of stereo receiver, or Whirlpool
makes
some
Sears'
Kenmore
appliances."
"Or the major oil companies selling
gas to the independent dealers, who sell
it under a different name."
"Okay, okay, fellows, I get the point,
but are you telling me there's virtually
no difference in protective coverings?
Dave?"
"That's right, man. You told it right
that time."
"Well, there is a difference in color at
least. What accounts for that difference,
Dave Chambray?"
"Gottcha, Rob. I been reading up on
that one. It's something in the dye
process called melanin. The more
melanin, the darker the color. Melanin is
in the cytoplasm of melanocytes. If the
protective covering is subject to a lot of
irritation, stress, or sunlight, the number
of melanocytes increases to give you
more protection."
"That's an excellent answer, Dave,
but now let me ask you a real toughie.
Lotta people say the protective covering
makes the man. Do you agree?"
"You kidding? How could a covering
make all that complicated stuff inside?
It's not magic; it's just a covering."
"Okay, but you're not going to try to
pretend that the covering doesn't have
any impact on the inside, are you?
Everybody knows certain types of
people have certain coverings that
determine how they act."
"Just a minute here, Rob, are you
trying to say that certain types of
coverings
have certain personality
characteristics associated with them?"
"Aw, come on, will, you're supposed
to be on my side. You and I both have
fawn coverings. We think alike."
"Look, before you guys get into it,
just let me finish what I started to say
about the outside affecting the inside.
People force the inside to change
because of the things they say about the
covering, how they react to it and what
they expect of it. But the covering by
itself doesn't affect the internal works.
How could it? It'sjust'a mass of fibrous
and elastic tissue."
"Folks, I'm sorry, but our time is up.
Thank you very much, will Cheviot and
Dave Chambray, for being with us."
"wild World of Sports' Special
Report on Protective Coverings was
brought to you courtesy of the Cosmic
Curiosity Shop, Ten-Ten-Ten South
Main. Stop in and browse. You'll be
glad you did." •
13
art
~m~~~~~g Dr. Richard Kelly,
• Dr. B. J. Leggett
by Connie Jones
Dr. Richard Kelly
Dr. B.]. Leggett
14
media and found them unsatisfactory.
All the brushes and paraphernalia of oil
painting annoyed Kelly, and he disliked
UT's English department includes two painters having to wait for an area of the painting
whose works have acquired local recognition.
to dry before he could retouch it.
Dr. Richard Kelly, whose areas of specialization
Leggett and Kelly both tried acrylics ,
are Victorian literature and the writing
but they used the paint in a very
of poetry, and Dr. B. J. Leggett, specializdiluted form , which produced effects
ing in modern literature and poetry, both
similar to watercolor.
work in watercolor. Neither sees a relationship
Leggett does not see any connection
between their creative or critical work
between his professional ~ork and his
in literature and their painting; Kelly
painting except, he said, that he knew
described his painting as "a vacation from
from experience in teaching that
the written word."
students like to create as well as
Leggett has had some formal training in art,
criticize. Leggett believes that in
having taken a studio course in college,
literature he is better at critizing
several courses in the last five years at
rather than creating; his knowledge of
Crossroads Gallery, and a drawing course from
literature has made him very critical
Jim Gray, a professional painter. "I think
of his creative writing. "I'm less
that the person most helpful to me (in my
inhibited in painting because I'm more
painting) is Jim Gray; he's really unselfish
naive," he said.
in working with amateur painters and will give
Leggett and Kelly primarily paint
you all his secrets," Leggett said.
landscapes such as old buildings, wooded scenes
Kelly began painting two years ago with no
and lake shores. Rechenbach Gallery and
formal training. "I was drawing with some
Beads & Feathers sell Kelly's works; he also
nephews from New York, and it seemed imposoffers them for sale in sidewalk art shows.
sible; then I drew something that I thought
Leggett's works are sold at Rechenbach
wasn't half bad- it inspired me to try,"
Gallery, The Carriage House, and in sidewalk
Kelly said. Carl Sublett of the art department
art shows.
and Leggett have influenced Kelly's
Both professors describe themselves as
works. The techniques of Andrew Wyeth are of
amateur painters. "I do it for pleasure,"
great interest to both Leggett and Kelly,
Leggett said. "I have no real theory or
who try to gain similar effects in their
conception of painting in the way that I do
works.
literature-I'm conten t to steal from other
Kelly prefers watercolor because of its simpli- artists' techniques and innovations."
city and the transparent colors, while Leggett
Kelly has a similar attitude toward his art .
prefers it because of the ease of obtaining
"I don't ever feel my work is serious art in
interesting effects. Kelly found watercolor a
the sense, say, Carl Sublett would feel about
complex medium at first becase it cannot be
his art. I do it for pocket money,
corrected. "My first ones were total
entertainment. It's something I enjoy to do
embarrassments, but people made nice comments and other people enjoy hanging on their
even when the art was dreadful," Kelly said.
walls." •
Kelly has kept a few of his early paintings
to remind him of the "deadly labors of
the past," he said.
Kelly and Leggett have tried other
Photos by Ron Han
Dr. B. ]. Leggett
Dr. Richard Kelly
15
art
Steve Rechichar, intaglio
16
David Carpenter, photographic intaglio
17
Ron Milhoan
Ted Rose
18
Mike Fann
Susan Harrill
19
Carol Wheat, lithograph
20
art
by Eric Forsbergh
With major galleries now open, the
visual arts are on the upswing in
Knoxville. A drive down Kingston Pike
presents several of these galleries
displaying a wide variety of media
ranging from grand-scale paintings made
during the American Revolution to
intricate
glasswork
finished
only
recently by local artists.
The Dulin Gallery, on Kingston Pike,
is the best-known. The only non-profit
gallery, it is supported by contributions
from several of Knoxville's banks,
businesses, and well-known citizens.
There is a 50 cents admission charge for
adults, with both children and students
admitted free. Dulin lacks becoming a
full-fledged museum only because it
does not have a constant temperature
control.
The large house and surrounding
six-acre estate were offered by the
Hanson Lee Dulin family, and are now
leased from Mrs. Clifford Folger of
Washington D.C. The gallery opened in
1962. The large house has nine rooms
for displays and exhibits. The grounds
are spacious and well-kept, with a large
back lawn on which pieces of sculpture
are permanently on display. The gallery
plans the construction of a new building
with improved facilities.
Another aspect of the Dulin Gallery's
activity is the classes in art history, art
appreciation, watercolor, mixed media,
oil painting and crafts such as
quilt-making and weaving. Classes are
taught all year, with special summer
sessions for school-age children. Some
of the teachers are UT staff or local high
~chool staff. There are also tours for
high school students.
Rechenbach's Gallery is the largest
and most diversified of the commercial
Knoxville galleries. It holds an art
supply shop, a print department, a long
gallery hall and a classroom studio.
Located just off Kingston Pike, the
gallery was started in 1968 by Tom
Rechenbach, and is now managed by
Nancy Davis.
About 12 shows, mostly the work of
local artists, are exhibited each year.
However, in the past six months, they
have exhibited the works of Jason
Williams from Memphis and Margot
Sebelist from Hendersonville, Tenn. In
the summer, when business is less active,
they sponsor lesser-known Knoxville
artists to give them more exposure.
Art classes are offered in oil, water
color, pastel, mixed media, pottery,
weaving and portrait painting. The
mixed media classes are designed for
children
to
explore the various
expressions of art. The watercolor class
is given by Dr. William Loy, a UT
professor.
George
Rothery'S
Gallery
on
Kingston Pike is another of the galleries
which specializes in local watercolors
and oils done in the traditional style by
contemporary painters. Approximately
six exhibits a year are given, mostly of
watercolors and oils in the style of
Andrew Weyth. Watercolors of the
woods, farms and fields of East
Tennessee by Pauline Warden of
Concord are typical of Rothery's
exhibits.
Her
show
opened
in
conjunction with the beginning of the
Dogwood Arts Festival and ran for the
entire festival. Two UT professors, Carl
Sublett and Walter Stevens, have had
shows at Rothery'S. Hugh Bailey, an
artist with UT Publications Service
Bureau, often exhibits watercolors and
pottery here.
The gallery does matting and framing,
and sidelines in unusual decorative
wallpaper. Another facet of the gallery
is its collection of old etchings and
engravings.
Alpha Gallery, near Westown Mall is
Knoxville's newest gallery, as well as the
most advanced in design and concept.
The manager-owners of the gallery, Joe
Companiotte and Mick Dickerson,
explain that they are trying to reach for
the idea of a New York gallery, in which
local artists are represented through
only one gallery.
Many of the artists who sell to
Knoxville specifically through Alpha
Gallery are either UT art professors or
UT art graduates, such as F. Clark
Stewart with prints and collage, Phil
Livingston with wood constructions,
Morna McGoldrig with watercolor, and
Whitney Leland, whose medium is
acrylic. To broaden the scope of the
gallery, the owners are attempting to
bring in exhibits from other parts of the
country, and set up shows outside
Knoxville for local artists.
Most of the art is contemporary, and
much of it abstract. Alpha Gallery sells
not only two-dimensional art, but also
macrame,
glasswork
and pottery.
•
21
N
N
Bob Cothran
Bob Cothran
art/ theatre
by Chris Grabenstein
Bob Cothran sits behind his model-filled
desk munching Krystal french fries and
quickly injesting a bowl of chili smothered
in oyster crackers.
He is wearing his paint-speckled, navyblue work suit. An ink-.freckled T-shirt peeps
through the collar. His skillful hands are
covered with splatters of a day's work.
Around his cluttered office are detailed
models of his set creations. The walls are
covered with a bold display of his
brilliantly colorful theatre posters.
As the UT Theatre's ~et designer speaks,
his words are accen ted by the expressions
of a wrinkled brow. "The primary job of a
set designer is to plan the shape and size of
a space in which a given play will seem to
happen naturally. The first concern of a
designer is a matter of sheer space itself,"
Cothran says as he attacks the
cracker-covered chili.
Over in one corner of the office, a scale
replica of Cothran's Mikado set lies tilted
on its side. With Cothran, the art of a set
design often transcends the mundane chore
of constructing a functional playing space.
If the play is not simply a pleasurable piece
of amusement, the metaphorical possibilities
for Cothran's set design are unlimited.
"If the play has some depth to it, I read
about the piece and discuss it with all who
are associated with the production, until I
come up with a simple, often childishsounding, metaphor for the quality of the
play's world."
Cothran looks for an ordinary, rudimentary image to express the specific quality
of a play. He imposes that metaphor on
his design and then proceeds to disguise
it, making the obvious subtle.
Cothran stretches back from the
chili, taking a minute to think. "You erase
it until there is only a lingering echo of the
original metaphor. You have to cover it up
carefully so only an undercurrent remains."
In the production of Everyman there were
two metaphors working in Cothran's set.
They were simple, yet poignant. The set
began as an oval with doors open to the
outside. In these doorways, Cothran placed
richly decorated reminders of the joys of
life. The tavern and the kitchen as well as
the study filled the openings with the
infinite delight oflife. But as the play went
on, those doorways of splendor began to
close.
';As the doors closed, the set began to look
like the bottom of a dry well. We took awa y
all the pretties and a little drum of ston e
remained. It became a tomb with no exit."
Bob Cothran is also the designer of the
popular posters that publicize the UT
Theatre's upcoming productions. The posters
that fill his wall in mural fashion
are collectors' pieces. Most of them have
been stolen by avid admirers.
Cothran accepts the fact that his posters
will be snatched. The constant swiping of his
art is flattering, yet it makes him
wonder about the nature of advertising.
"Advertisers must accept the responsibility
that what they are creating will compose the
visual world for many people. Some
advertising is trashy and irresponsible, yet
advertising is intrinsically necessary
for a society. I've always taken it as my
responsibility to make my advertising
tasteful and attractive. But when you do
make attractive posters, they are taken down
before they have served thei~ function."
Cothran has to be at a meeting at two. He
quickly finishes his lunch. Pouring sugar
into two cups of coffee, he talks briefly of his
future. His plans include "big things."
Below his office, a saw whines in the
scene shop. Cothran hurriedly
takes the first swallow of coffee. He has
to get back to work . •
Photo by Ron Harr
23
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by Kathleen King Proffitt
The room is an interface between art and technology. A
Mona Lisa printed of letters and symbols grins patiently at a
Michelangelo; both of them are apparently the creation of a
computer programmer disciple of Andy Warhol. A thin man is
gently cursing the cheap paper which the printer has shredded.
Whistler's Mother rocks unceasingly to the rhythm of the
super-duper PDP-ll/40 computer (complete with disk drive
and video monitors). The video terminal displays
slowly-changing messages like a futuristic UPI teletype or a
game of "Pong" gone haywire.
The sheer efficiency of the place inspires awe. The engineers
look like advertising men, yet they speak of space flights to
Jupiter, robots, machine learning and of changing dark,
out-of-focus photographs into clearly-defined pictures. They
are real-time ;lctors in a continuing chapter of science
non-fiction. They are the engineers in the computer image
processing laboratory of Ferris Hall.
A program written by Barry Fittes brings out obscure details
in photographs; the processed picture on the right is more
clearly defined.
24
The research is the brain child of Dr. R. C. Gonzales,
associate professor of Electrical Engineering and faculty
member of the department of computer science. Dan
Thompson, a doctoral student, and Barry Fittes, who is
working for his Masters Degree, write programs involving
Fourier transformations and statistical manipulations. At times
they seem to speak a foreign language, one known only to
themselves and the machine.
Fittes has written a program which can use data from a
hardware sampling unit built by Thompson to produce
pictures on a printout. Anyone who can sit still for four
seconds can have a picture of himself processed and printed by
the machine.
Amateur photography is not the goal here, however, for
Fittes works under a NASA grant developing algorithms to
manipulate pictures. "They want to have TV cameras
there-that's the robot's eyes," says Fittes, referring to image
processing for remote manipulation by robots. If there were a
robot on Jupiter and a light in the spacepod blew, the video
image would be substantially altered and neither the robot nor
the engineer on earth could "see" well enough to manipulate
the controls.
Fittes stares into space. "What I'm trying to do is bring out
data that's hidden in the shadows. A controller, with a joy
stick (video level adjustment lever) with four degrees of
freedom, hopefully in a real-time situation, could monitor the
image as it's coming in from the camera and could also
monitor the processed image."
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The program itself is remarkably efficient. It can bring out
darkened sections of pictures and it can sharpen images.
Similar programs have been used for X-rays, so that an
abnormality may be more easily detected. The pictures of the
moon's surface were processed by a similar technique. "It's
nifty to take a picture that's kind of crummy," says Fittes,
"and get something out of it that looks kind of good."
Part of the research hinges on the work done by Gonzalez.
He has developed a method for specifying probability density
functions (PDFs) which yield a histogram of a picture. A
histogram of a picture is, roughly, a mathematical description
of the intensity of blackness. With Gonzalez' program, one
could specify the degree of black and white desired by altering
the PD F. One could take a lousy picture and turn it into a
respectable image.
A picture of Gonzalez appears on the monitor, the result of
a program by Fittes which feeds in digital data continuously to
the monitor while the computer idles. Thompson keys in a
new picture, a murky, noisy mess, which he says contains a set
of dark figures. With such a set, it is possible to use
mathematical manipulations to bring out the picture, to
sharpen the image. "I've got some pretty geometric figures,"
says Thompson. "You can filter out high frequencies, which
tends to eliminate noise and smooth out the picture; or, you
can Hlter out low frequencies, which tends to sharpen the
edges."
A white-on-black grid appears on the screen. Thompson
explains that he prefers simple geometric shapes because their
Fourier transformations are easier to recognize. His current
research is concerned with bringing out information hidden in
black regions. Although the work is done on a theoretical
level, there are many applications for the space program,
which has had problems with the pictures transmitted from
outer space. The reason for the difficulty is that the human
eye requires atmosphere to diffuse light and reduce contrast,
but the pictures in space are taken in a vacuum and human
beings have a hard time discerning details.
The work is far from being completed. Thompson says,
"Most pictures that you process-the transforms are lousy, lots
of noise, but go to simple geometric shapes and you get some
really pretty patterns. You could get off just on the patterns."
At that moment, the monitor is displaying electric patterns
which move in sensuous visual rhythms.
"Our system is not fully set up for elaborate color
processing," says Fittes, "but we have some interesting
preliminary results." He punches buttons on the terminal. A
multi-colored face of Gonzalez appears on the monitor and the
hues move erratically, like a technicolor sand dune being swept
by the desert winds. "One man's beauty is another man's
noise," he says .•
• Itlllt _ _ _
.IE ••
..... :-.:t../HH _ _
b
•• )(1 . . . . . . .
....
....
.....
One aspect of computer image processing is the translation of
photographic information into visually recognizable output.
This print-out is a computer version of a photo of Dr.
Gonzalez's son.
25
poetr'y
the sky was drained of color.
the streets rumbled with the approach of steel armies.
the cafes heaved vacuous yawns.
old men scratched empty heads and remembered.
no cycles raced.
the streets ached under the pressure of steel armies.
steel men rumbled in the tank bellies. their eyes were sharp.
their lips were parted, murmuring.
they rocked in the metallic womb, sucking their minds
dry for reasons, forgetting why.
soft women hugged their skirts in silence.
they tore away pieces of themselves to chew on.
they licked their fingers. they licked their eyes.
no prayers came to mind.
steel armies drained the sky of color.
-Pamela Criner
Cilarms to Soothe
These hours bring the yellow sounds of trumpets.
I am wrapped in the physics of musicA plaster of mustard is packed and slapped
On my hands. From the coils of my jacket,
In the halls of delirium, I cry,
"It's only Spring fever, Doctor, nothing
Needing curing." The nurses smile and they nod
And someone brings me baskets of flowers.
These hours hold the white sounds of pianos.
I am saved by a knight with an armour
Of notes. He holds my hands and keeps them well.
He sets my fingers counting. In the house
Of verse I am the child and the master
Coming home hungry. Sweet convalescenceThese hours bloom like faces in his presence.
-Kathleen King Proffitt
26
Enemy
Circles are the enemy circles and cycles.
Circled from birth,
the round head emerges
membraned and bloody
from the cycle of the womb.
The moon, our circle;
its cycle our communion.
The half-moon of Adam has been plucked out,
the whole moon embedded in Evethe wrench of the gut
the circle of blood on the sheet.
We are slave to rhythm,
second nature to turning.
No circling can exorcise
the roundness of breasts,
the curving of flesh,
the deepening gray of the eyes' perimeter.
Our protests, rotund ripples,
circulars from the cycle of the mind.
-Sandy Sneed
Ima~es
Ima~es
There 's a s.o ng for the sound
That is you making your life
In the best new cupboard.
You with your carpenter's hands
will make the place right
As it must be, noiseless and subtle.
There's a song for the night
which stirs suddenly to wide awake,
Some radio clicking alive on time.
You must not be alarmed.
The so ng will re turn
Or is the same each time you learn it
And you will go on believing you sane,
Imagining poetry out of air
Or ignoring your imaginary life.
- QA,entin Powers
Voya~es
Rivers flow along the nerves ,
Merge to meet
An inland sea
Like a green dream of water.
At night, in the boat we built
Of paper,
Sealed with words,
We drift past towns where I grew up.
Their lost lights gleam from shore:
Bedrooms and
Empty stores.
You take the tiller ; I'll hold
The ropes dragged tau t by wind
And sail. We
Tack to starboard,
Searching for the lost continent.
in Reverse
His image brilliance- letters gilded on
A leather spine, a crimson, cream and rust
Explosion-fragile featherings to dust.
A naked pattern black on white is drawn
By circled rubber tracks where he has gone
In muted shades of gray. Our questions hushed,
We come in autumn color, gain his trust,
To know his secret life, his view of dawn
And watch the lonely woman's trembling hand
Within the garden. She by chrome wheeled chair
And golden wedding band is circled tight,
Recircled, yet she turns but for the man;
For love, her self is sacrificed-her bare
Unspoken choice a freedom without flight.
-Susan Betts
Law of the Excluded Middle
I write poems while moss
Grows on my teeth
While sitting bulges my thighs
While egg yolks adhere to breakfast plates.
Only poets read poems.
The rest pay their dues
In romantic lit class
And graduate to
Saturday Review acrostics
Featuring an occasional ode ,
Which they scrape from memory
Like chewing gum
From a theater seat.
I, too, scrape romantic lit
From theater seats ,
But with much less satisfaction
In the eventual result.
(By God, in an acrostic ,
If the word fits ,
You know it.)
I would stop writing
Except that
Images keep rushin g in
Like hungry cats
Whiskering hot milk.
- Marla Puziss
- Pat Gray
27
Lau~llin~~ He Disappeared
(untitled)
Standing still like a stalactite
I slash my protozoan skin to open a hundred rosy secrets
that flow patiently
dividing my life blood into rivulets
that have one source and must return
to the eternal pool of knowledge
dried up by so many years of self-delusion.
Knees, the Gorgon's knot of bone,
dissected by da Vinci,
recorded in his little books.
He'd opened these folders oflegs,
spread out the veins.
Tendons fanned out
like the wing feathers of a shot bird
upon his pages.
He balled up muscled bodies
and stretched them, taffy, out
for illustration to his backward explanations.
He left behind tanks and helicopters,
a troop of parachutes
to defend the books.
And shrieking
"Would you presume to gain my mind?"
leapt back into the curtains.
If only you would dip your waxen finger
into the silent flow of what's the holy river of my mind
carrying its seeds of self-destruction.
A rainy afternoon would do to hold warm hands and feel. ..
feel the mingling of rain drops with our never-to-be-seen other selves
in search of what was labelled love
flowing now freely down the drain ofloneliness.
Impotence is a harsh word for
not giving the right answer to the obvious.
Can a touch, a glance, a spilling over of emotion
not serve as
Eloquent tongues to justify the weak, the beautiful, the hopeless
in whose dreams blossom the illusions of oneness with the all through you?
You? A crea tion burning brigh t like a christmas tree on fire
While the presents underneath wait patiently to
be saved for the expected opening:
boxes filled with crumbs to be parcelled out sagely and at intervals
so that the sentimental heart will pump a trickle of white blood.
Oh, to have died young while facing a clear sky, serene and simply
like a ring
that is returnable to its righ tfu! owner.
-H. Ernest Lewald
28
-Eric Forsbergh
(untitled)
there was just that one small light on the back stairs
down the hall
you sat two steps below me
looking past the light.
I asked you once
and after such a silence
you said your thoughts
were on the points of your body
where they touched the stair.
I Witll Tilem
come and sit by me here
while I die
and we will discuss my passing,
you and I.
often, in a gasp, have I called,
when there were none to answer
none at all
yet I lay and listened
to the men across the street
talk of how they'd get themselves women
-the first ones they should meet.
and I thought they were right
to be so ambitious
and think themselves so up to the task
When all there was that was really left
was a touch of the silky hand
that would mold them one and all.
so they ventured forth
and took their courage out
and polished it and shined it clean
holstered it and called it manhood.
I applauded them!
I realized with them
that ignoble truth: that all that is worth
grasping
is worth fondling only for a time.
and then, I with them, we let our notions go
and wander through the evening streets
where music is the marque for activity
and the language is the movement.
they start it again
and each conquest is what they would like to see
stretched out on this morbid bed
cornered and fighting for a taste of life.
-Carl W. Savage
the elbow ribs hip foot
the calf of one leg
... you thinking of the touching space
I of the time
and the spaces not touched ...
you told me then
that life was not continuous
it seemed you'd caught my thoughts
and so I said
"talking to you is like talking to myself"
but you weren't even listening
-M.E. Morrow
Poem
There is always the question of where you went.
A year has passed since I said goodbye
fitfully, in the living room
beside the place where the white couch
usually sits. A year has passed but the question rankles,
remembering.
There is just too much; geraniums mix with lilies
in my mind. I recall my allergy to white roses
or sorrow-I am not sure.
The goodbye that I dared not say at Easter
bothers me. Later, I said it face to face
after the answering smile had fled. Grandmother!
Soft ferns and flowered china
are all I rememb er
and there is so much yet that I need to know.
- Valere B. Menefee
29
photogroph'y
by Susan Betts
The
CQmelQ
in the CIQssloom
A su,vey of photog,aphy cou,ses
Kip Howard
Ed McCord
30
"I'd like to see a department of
photography and cinematography on
campus in the worst way," said Dr. G.
Michael Clark, associate professor of
~eological sciences, and instructor of
that department's photography course.
His words are echoed by other
photography instructors across campus.
However, UT does offer a surprising
number of photography courses in
several different colleges. Most are
oriented to the specific needs of the
particular discipline within which they
are taught, but many are equally
concerned with students from outside
that particular field.
The college of liberal arts offers
photography courses in the geography,
geological sciences, and art departments.
The geography course, Remote Sensing,
taught by Dr. John B. Rehder,
emphasizes
the
application
of
photography to geography, and the
interpretation of photographs, from the
ground and air, utilizing information
from electronic sensors and thermal
scanners.
Geological Photography, taught by
Clark, is a practical course in lab and
field techniques. Simple aspects of
exposure, development, and printing are
taught, and students learn to create
actual maps from photographs.
The art department offers several
courses. Intermediate Design is a
filmmaking class instituted by Dr.
Phillip Livingston five years ago to teach
experimentation with the super-8 movie
camera. Filmmaking offers the student
an opportunity to structure a visual
experience and to discover the logic of
the medium. "Filmmaking is a way to
manipulate reality," Livingston said,
"particularly the relationships between
time and space, to make new worlds."
He assumes one learns by doing, so he
hands his students a camera and a roll of
film, and sends them out to create a
personal statement on topics such as
spring, Knoxville and happiness. A
public showing of the best films ends
the class each quarter.
For many students, one quarter is not
long enough; advanced design is a course
for those wishing to go on. Additional
courses in both cinematography and
photography are listed in the 1975
catalogue. However, Livingston said
they had not been taught in several
T. Crabtree
David Schuennann
31
years, and the art department office said
they are not listed as courses the
department is equipped to teach.
TV Film News is one of two
photography classes in the College of
Communications. It is an introduction
to the medium for broadcasting
students, who learn to shoot short films
and the basic techniques of producing
them. Irving G. Simpson, who teaches
the course, said, "We teach simple, basic
production-shooting
and
editing
film-the feeling being that if one can
work with this and get a decent story,
one can work with anything. After all,
we are not in the film production
business," Students do not actually
shoot
news
stories
because the
department is not set up to cover them,
but they use 16mm film to do the kind
of things that would fit into television
news and special interest films.
Press Photography, taught by Dr.
James
Kalshoven,
IS
the
other
photography
course
offered
in
Communications.
The
course has
em p hasized
black
and
white
photography as an editorial medium. It
has been retitled Basic Photography and
will continue to teach the principles of
flash, development, processing, and
printing using three types of cameras:
the 35mm camera, the 2~ reflex camera
and the large Crown Graphic camera.
Kalshoven teaches technical skills
first. "Photography requires more skill
than a person realizes," he said, "and
with technical skill comes a sense of
creativity." Unlike many schools, UT
furnishes its students with cameras,
darkroom chemicals and facilities.
The Communications College plans to
expand the program over the next
several years. The advanced courses will
color,
exhibition,
feature
cover
photography and photojournalism.
The School of Architecture offers the
most
comprehensive
photography
classes on campus. One measure of their
success IS the great number of
non-architecture students enrolled in
the
courses.
Despite
its
title,
Architectural Photography does not
concentrate on buildings, though certain
buildings, such as McClung Tower, the
Hyatt Regency and the Kingston Pike
Hamilton Bank are usually included in
32
assignments. Allen Olsen and Vojo
Narancic, both assistant professors of
architecture, teach the course.
Olsen sees the class as an exercise in
the use of the camera, to communicate
architectural issues. "Photography is
essentially seeing the world in another
way, the perception of a set of issues,"
he said. Photography explores the
implication of the environment on
people by freezing time and motion, by
capturing contrasts between living
conditions and facial expressions.
Principles
of
compOSltIon
are
stressed, but the technical aspects of
black and white photography are
important, and students also experiment
with darkroom techniques that do not
involve the camera. To stress the value
of the camera as an architectural tool,
Olsen's assignments are problem-solving
in nature. The student is asked to
photograph a two-dimensional model
with as little distortion as possible, to
photograph awkward interiors such as
the well of Estabrook Hall, and to
communicate the character of the
subject.
N arancic . focused his first classes on
buildings, but found this handicapped
students.
N ow
he
approaches
photography as philosophy; a way to
look at life and record it in two
dimensions. Technique is important; he
stresses the necessity of working on the
photograph, and class discussions are
devoted to sharing experiences and
ideas. To comment with a personal
point of view, to be creative and
convincing,
requires
observation,
analysis, and the making of technical
choices
m
angles,
lighting,
and
composition.
Typical assignments include focusing
on detail, interior shots, capturing a
feeling such as happiness, and depicting
people. Narancic gives his students a
base in photography from which they
can go in any direction, including
architectural photography.
William J. Lauer, assistant dean of the
School of Architecture, who now
teaches the color photography course,
developed
the
first
architectural
photography
course
approximately
seven years ago. Lauer assumes his
students will have taken the black and
white photography course and learned
the basic techniques of printing and
processing. He teaches b<!sic processing
of color negative and positive film, the
use of color infared film and the
techniques of color key posterization
materials. These involve making color
prints from black and white negatives
and the use of color transparent
materials.
Photography and film have places as
research tools for architecture students
and there is a demand for more courses.
Lauer sees one answer to this demand in
the pooling of different resources on
campus to build a photography
department.
In fact, all persons involved in
photography on campus agree that
something more is needed. "I think we
have a lot of expertise in artistic and
scientific photography on campus that
didn't exist ten years ago, and we need a
real coming together of the minds,
perhaps evening seminars, as a catalyst
for a professional department," said
Clark.
Such plans are in the making-at least
for filmmaking. Livingston is a member
of the University Committee on Film
Studies, which is chaired by Dr. Ralph
Norman. While the official report has
not been prepared yet, the committee
has developed a program of Film
Studies, similar to a cultural studies
program.
"It's a nice program on paper," said
Livingston, "and we are all very
enthusiastic." The plans, which cannot
be implemented due to the budget
crunch, call for an interdepartmental,
interdisciplinary
approach
with
participants from speech and theater,
English, art and any other interested
department. The committee hopes to
balance critlclSm and theory with
filmmaking experience. The program
will .be in the spirit of liberal arts and is
not intended to provide professional
competence in filmmaking. Meanwhile,
UT still has much to offer an interested
student in many areas of photography
and filmmaking .•
filmmaking
the
Slnklnq
CR€€k
~Ilm
C€l€BRatlon
by Max Heine
For the past few summers, in early June. numerous
filmmakers, film theorists, professors and other film buffs have
gathered in a big city for five days of lectures and workshops
on filmmaking, as well as screening some of the best new
freelance films produced in the country. New York? San
Francisco? No, all this happens in Nashville at the Sinking
Creek Film Celebration.
At this year's Celebration, June 4-8, three workshops will be
conducted by Stan Woodward, media specialist from the
Sou th Carolina Arts Commission, and his film teaching staff.
The workshops will be: Make Your Own Movie-Super 8
production, animation or narrative; Filmprobe-becoming a
better film critic, uses of film in education; and Meet the
Filmpeople-informal discussions with program guests. The
eleven guests will be filmmakers and teachers from New York,
Texas, Georgia.. Massachusetts, Montreal, Florida and Virglnia.
General awards totaling $1,000 will be given for the most
creative work in these three categories: young ftlmmaker,
college ftlmmaker and independent filmmaker. Special awards
totaling $950 will also be given.
T his is th e third year Sinking Creek has been held at
Vanderbilt. Before that, it was held at Tusclum College in
Greeneville, T enn., w here it was founded in 1970 by Mary
Jane Coleman, who is still the director. Funding for
Sinking Creek has come mostly from the National Endowment
for the Arts, but also from The Tennessee Arts Commission,
Vanderbilt University, the Greeneville Arts Guild and
Tusculum College.
Over 800 films have been entered since the beginning. The
1974 competition attracted 215 films from 32 states. Many
notable filmmakers, such as Frank Mouris, have entered films.
Mouris entered Frank Film in 1972 and it went on to win
an Academy Award. Frank Film is a dazzling visual
bombardment of thousands of animated cut-outs which
Mouris saved for many years. It took him over six years to
make the film.
Frank Film was one of 14 films Mary Jane Coleman showed
in April when she made a presentation at the Knoxville-Knox
County Public Library Freelance Film Institute. The two-day
institute also included lectures and films on film terminology,
animation, and fictional documentaries. The focus of the
institute was the screening of local freelance films, mostly
from lIT and Knoxville College students.
Coleman returned here on May 8 to preview nine films
entered in the upcoming celebration She said then that 130
films were already submitted and that 200 were expected.
There will be 50-60 films screened in June.
One of the most unusual films in her preview was A First
Fig, a computer-animated film which showed various
geometric shapes put through swirling three-dimensional
transformations. Another film humorously animated still
photographs done by Edward Muybridge in the 19th century,
who was experimenting with photography and movement
before the motion picture was invented. Judging from the
filins at the preview, Sinking Creek should be an outstanding
collection o f the newest experimental films . •
33
fiction
()kay Jackson, that's it. The last straw. Maybe four laps
around the field will clear up your head enough for you to be
able to play some ball this afternoon. Now hit it! I mean I
want you to keep running until your tongue drags. Get your
ass in gear. Don't you stand there grinning at me boy, RUN!"
The coach 's last word finally sank into Tim's head and he
came to with a jerk. It wasn't until he had rounded right field
and had passed Tip in center field that he found out why he
was running and why the coach had hollered at him.
"Hey T.J. What the hell's wrong with you letting an easy
grounder get past you like that? Man, your ass is really in a
sling with the coach now."
Tim grinned at Tip and kept running. How could the coach
or even Tip understand what was going on? Tim wasn't so sure
himself. All he knew was that he couldn't wait for tonight to
come. The coach or Tip or school or baseball or nothing else
really mattered because tonight was only a few hours away.
"Tonight, tonight ... tonight's not just any night ... " Tim
chuckled as the words to that drippy song slipped into his
head while he started his second lap around the field. "Are
those the words?" he thought. "Who cares? Tonight is almost
here and I wouldn't trade places with anyone in the world."
''TONIGHT, TONIGHT ... TONIGHT'S NOT LIKE ANY
NIGHT."
Harold turned and stared at Tim as he passed. "What the
hell you got to sing about? Man, you wouldn't catch me
singing if the coach was as pissed at me as he is at you right
now," Harold shouted as Tim passed. Tim jerked his middle
finger out at Harold and just laughed and kept running. "Poor
01' Harold," Tim thought, "he'll never know what it's like.
He's never even been out with a girl. Especially a girl like
Mendy."
Tim and Mendy had been going together for almost a year
now. The.y had known each other for four years-ever since
the seventh grade. Tim would never forget that day in the
seventh grade when he walked into his homeroom for the first
time, looked around and decided he didn't know anyone. Most
of the kids from his elementary school went to the junior high
across town, in the city school system. But Tim's mother
wanted him to go to Westphal Junior and Senior High School
because it was so nearby and in the county school system. Tim
wanted to go to school across town, but his mother told him
that someday he would thank her for keeping him from "those
colored children, who carry knives with them to school."
But _when Tim walked into his homeroom on that first day
of school, colored kids and knives didn't matter to him. What
mattered was that he didn't know anyone in the whole room.
Tim was sort of shy anyway. In elementary school he had
always gotten an "S+" for satisfactory manners and conduct.
What the teacher didn't know was that he was just plain scared
to talk to anyone ... especially to teachers and girls. Boys were
easy enough to get along with as long as you could play
baseball and football. You didn't have to do much talking
except to grunt or keep up the infield chatter before each
pitch:
"Hum -baby-you-the-one -rock-and-fire-that-ol'pi 11- in - the r e - com e - now - you - the - 0 n e -h urn -b ab yhum-hum-hum-STRIKE! "
Girls were a different matter though. Tim had always
wondered what you could do with them. He'd never had much
contact with girls, being an only child and all. He never would
forget how embarrassed he was when he had come home with
his first grade class picture and his mother had asked him who
that cute little girl was that was sitting next to him in the
picture. Tim had turned red and said, "I hate girls!" His
mother had laughed and grabbed a pen. On the back of his
first class photo, inscribed for eternity, were the words, "I
hate girls." And there for a while, he did hate girls.
While sitting in the wooden desks in his seventh grade
homeroom Tim glanced around the room, this time more
closely than when he had first come in. That's when he saw
Mendy for the first time. She was laughing and talking and
everyone seemed to be listening ... she was just so vivacious.
Tim felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a line drive.
Tim had eventually gotten into the swing of things in junior
high. This wasn't too surprising as he was a fairly handsome
boy. Athletic type. He was good at sports, which was a sure
route to popularity at Westphal Junior High. By the time he
was in the ninth grade, he was going to plenty of parties,
sometimes with a girl. His mother would drive when he took a
girl to a party, and this would embarrass him no end. She
would always say something, no matter how many times Tim
would warn her, about the girl and Tim. "Oh Timmy, what a
·- - - - - - - - 1 ()1I1"llt-by Zack Binkley
34
cute little girl Carrie is. Don't you two make such a precious
little couple!" She'd say it right there in front of the girl!
Even though Tim had gone to parties with-girls on occasion,
and felt as much at ease around girls as a boy that age could,
he never had been able to approach Mendy. She had, of
course, become the most popular girl in school-she was in all
of the good clubs and was a cheerleader. Tim didn't know why
he couldn't feel at ease around Mendy; he just knew that he
couldn't. It wasn't her popularity because if that was the case
the two would be naturals. Tim was a very popular boy.
Besides being captain of the football team, he was also
crowned the King of Westphal Junior High's Pioneer Night.
Even when Mendy was crowned the Queen, Tim couldn't say
much more than "Congratulations."
I
im had run his. last lap around the field but he didn't feel
the least bit winded. He felt too good to be winded. But he
was still excited when the coach told everyone to head for the
showers. After all, he didn't want to use up all his strength
before tonight ... and tonight was practically here. He didn't
even go to the showers with the rest of the guys like always. It
was a rule that you had to go to the showers after practice.
Tim had never questioned the rule before, and he didn't now.
It's just that going to the showers this afternoon would mess
up his schedule. So once Tim saw the coach disappear into his
office in the gym, Tim made a fast break for his car. Even
though he was in such a hurry to get away from the coach and
go home to get ready for tonight, Tim had to stop and wipe
some dust off his car. Man, was he proud of that car. He had
gotten it from his grandmother after she had gotten too old to
drive it. His grandfather had bought it brand new back in
1953. Years later when Tim got the car, it still only had
25,000 miles on it because his grandfather had died soon after
he bought it and since then his grandmother had driven it only
to the cemetery.
All week long Tim had worked super-hard on the car getting
it ready for tonight. He had washed it and Simonized it and
ajaxed the tires real well. He had the inside of the car in
especially good shape, not only vacuuming it and cleaning the
windows and polishing the chrome; but also he had used half a
can of his mother's lemon-scented Pledge wax on the seats
until the whole car smelled like lemons and, when you sat
down on the seats, you almost slipped off them onto the floor.
Tim watched the late afternoon sun gleam on the hood of the
car and wiped away some more dust with his sleeve. Patting
the slick seats he said, "Glad you look good because you're
going to have a real workout tonight, baby."
On the ride home Tim started thinking about how strange
the last year had been-just as he had been thinking about it all
week during practice, English, math, and history. It was about
this time last year that he and Mendy had gotten
together-right after he had hit two home runs to win the big
game against Whitley High. Funny how it happened, too. Tim
had finished his shower and was walking out of the locker
room with Tip and Sherlin to go to the Plentyburger and
celebrate when he saw Mendy standing next to his car in the
parking lot.
"Oh Timmy, I absolutely can't believe how far you hit
those balls in the game. I bet you must be pretty strong to do
something like that. Everybody said that those must have been
the longest balls ever hit in a Westphal High game. Here,
you've got a hair sticking out in back, let me fix it for you."
Mendy had reached up and patted a couple of hairs down on
Tim's cowlick. Tim was even grinning about it right now, just
thinking about it. He'd never forget how she fixed those little
hairs and especially the feel of her little right breast brushing
against his arm. He could feel it now.
"I guess you boys are going to go running around now,
aren't you? I guess you wouldn't have time to take me over to
George's for a cherry-vanilla Sprite, would you Timmy?" Tim
had muttered something at his feet when Tip frogged him on
the arm and said, "Catch you later at the Quickie, all right?"
Two weeks later Mendy and Tim were going steady.
Tim pulled his car into the driveway and noticed that his
mother's car wasn't there. Everything was going according to
schedule. His mother had stopped at the nursing home to visit
Aunt Adelaide. He had the whole house to himself with two
hours to prepare himself for tonight... "TONIGHT,
TONIGHT ...TONIGHT'S NOT GOING TO BE JUST LIKE
ANY NIGHT ... " Sometimes you just have to sing.
Tim walked in the house through the kitchen door and
immediately went to the refrigerator and pulled out a quart of
milk and began slugging it down right out of the carton. His
mother had left a note saying dinner was in the oven. Tim
reached in and grabbed the plate and began to eat without
re-warming the food. He had other thi!lgs on his mind. Like
the last time he saw Mendy today at school. He had walked
her to her sixth period class before going to practice. Just
before he left her, she had stood up on her tiptoes (Tim loved
it when she did that) and whispered into his ear, "Timmy, it's
going to bejust like we planned. I love you Timmy." And then
she blew a little puff of warm breath into his ear, giggled, and
walked into class.
"I love you, she said. It's going to be just like we planned,
~he said. Wooooooooooeeeeee!" Tim bellowed, jumping up
from his chair and knocking some cold peas onto the floor.
He glided back into his bedroom and went to his closet. He
knew what he was going to wear. He had very carefully
35
avoided wearing his powder-blue cashmere knit shirt all week
so it would be ready for tonight. Mendy especially liked the
shirt. She said she liked the way it made his muscles look so
big and the way it made his eyes look so blue. Tim had also
saved his favorite socks for tonight and his best pair of
underwear-the blue silk ones that Uncle Irv had given him for
Christmas. Everything was go.
Tim walked down the hall to the bathroom and stared at
himself in the mirror. "Damn, I wish I didn't have that pimple
right there on my chin. All week long my face has been in
pretty good shape and then I wake up this morning with a
brand-damn-new pimple on my chin." Then be broke into
another big grin. "Heh, heh. After tonight I won't have to
worry so much about pimples anymore. No more pimples or
cold showers or wondering. Heh, heh. Man, is my life going to
be easier. No more worrying about looking up girl's skirts in
class and almost getting caught. Won't have to do that
anymore after tonight. Won't need it. No more hiding
Playboys in my room and worrying about Mother finding
them. I'll give them all to Tip. Won't need any of that stuff
anymore after tonight. No more Mr. X-ray eyes either. After
tonight, won't have to wonder anymore - I'll know it all then.
Heh, heh. Then Tim squeezed the pimple, wiped his chin, and
said to the mirror, "You big stud, you."
last week, just a week ago from tonight, had been the big
breakthrough. Things had started out normally for a Friday
night date. Tim and Mendy had gone to the 7 :30 movie over at
the shopping center. But instead of going to George's for a
cherry-vanilla Sprite, Mendy said, "Timmy, I don't really feel
like getting a Sprite tonight." She laid her head on Tim's
shoulder, looking out at the lights and traffic and said, "Why
don't we just go straight over to Green-eyes tonight, Okay?"
This caught Tim by surprise. Even though girls in the movies
or in Playboys always seemed eager to make out, he never
thought that real girls wanted to. Even Mendy. Though they
had kissed on the first date- that night after he had hit the
homers to whip Whitley 6 to 5 - he still thought that girls
didn't want to do it. Especially Mendy. Sure, she would go
over to Green-eyes for a little while after George's. But it was
always only for a little while before Mendy had to be home at
11:30. And sure, Mendy would french-kiss and nibble on
Tim's ear and every once in a while ... every once in a while
after a party where everyone had been making out or after
Tim had done especially well in a ball game, Mendy would let
him put his hand on her bra. Sometimes inside of her blouse.
But nothing else. Tim had tried once when Mendy had worn a
short shirt and they were at Green-eyes and her skirt had kind
of gotten hiked-up and he tried ...but she got mad and ' made
him take her right home. It was a long time before Tim tried
that again.
So Tim drove straight to Green-eyes that night. It was a
fairly long drive- out to the south side of town and over to
Elder's Ridge. Tim didn't know why it was called Green-eyes
except that all of the guys said that on certain nights when the
moon was just right you could look over to the east through
some pine trees and see something that looked like green-eyes
staring back at you. Tim had never seen it though. B~t all of the
36
way over to Green-eyes Mendy had just sat real close to Tim
and not said a word. Tim didn't talk either because he was
trying to figure out what was going on. So they listened to the
radio.
Tim pulled past the other cars and into their favorite spot at
Green-eyes. Mendy was even more affectionate than after a
Natalie Wood and Tab Hunter movie, and before long Tim
tried again. Once again Mendy made him stop. But this time
instead of telling him to take her home, she pressed up against
him and said, "Timmy, do you love me? I mean do you really
love me more than anything else in the whole world?" Tim,
being in the shape he was in at the moment, could do no more
than say that he loved her a whole lot, a lot more than
anything he could think of. Later he wished he had said it like
Tab had said it to Natalie, but at the time he had a hard time
just getting his tongue unglued from the roof of his mouth.
"Timmy, did you know that Steve and Debbie did it last
week? Promise you won't tell anyone, now promise." Tim
promised. "Deb bie spent the night with me last Saturday night
and told me that they'd gone all the way and that it made her
love Steve more than she ever had before and that he loved her
more than ever too. Now, Timmy, you know that Debbie isn't
fast or anything. You know she wouldn't be my best friend if
she didn't have a good reputation. Do you have any less
respect for her now that you know that she did it with Steve?"
It took Tim a second to reply. "So 01' Debbie Mcmahan had
done it with Steve! WOW! 01' Steve had done it with Debbie!"
he thought.
"No, I don't think anything like that about Debbie."
"Well Debbie said she was glad she hadn't waited until they
were married to do it. She said that she and Steve weren't
going to do it all the time or anything because they don't want
to have a baby or anything. But she said they were going to get
married someday and that now they could have a good
honeymoon and all." Mendy put her head back on Tim's
shoulder and stared out at the darkness and said softly,
"Timmy, do you think we'll ever get married?"
Tim had never thought of that. Good grief, getting married
was something that older cousins did. He'd never thought of it
for himself. But he knew that a lot of professional ballplayers
got married and it didn't seem to hurt them much. And
anyway, what was Mendy leading up to? "Sure, I guess we'll
get married someday. Maybe after we graduate. They have
married students apartments at college. I guess we probably
will."
Mendy raised her head and kissed Tim on the ear and
whispered, "Do you want to do it?"
Tim felt like he had just been hit by a 200 pound linebacker
on an end sweep-but just after he had crossed the goal line
with the winning touchdown. "Do I? will I? When? Right
now?"
"Oh Timmy, you're so cute and I love you so much. But
not tonight. Everything has to be just right. I want to be super
pretty for you and I want everything to be romantic. I don't
want to do it here. Why don't we go up to the Lady of the
Lake next weekend and do it there. Oh Timmy, it'll be so
romantic. Nobody'll be there except you and me. That's where
Deb bie said they did it and she said they were all alone there.
Tell me you love me, Timmy."
lie
thought it would never come. But here it was, less than
an hour before he was to pick up Mendy. Tim had been extra
careful not to nick himself when he shaved. Tim didn't shave
very often. In fact he had been saving his beard for ten days so
that he could have a fresh shave tonight. After a long hot
shower he put on plenty of "Hawaiian Surf" aftershave as well
as a good splattering of the matching "Hawaiian Surf"
cologne. And before he knew it, it was time to go. After
checking himself out in the mirror for the fifth time and
deciding he looked properly spiffy, Tim left the house and
hopped into the '53 Chevy.
At precisely 7 o'clock Tim rang the doorbell at Mendy's
house. As usual, Mendy'S father answered the door. "Well
hello Tim, how's the boy?" "Fine, Mr. Jeffries, how're you?"
" Can't complain, can't complain. How many homers you
going to hit off that Renfro boy Monday? I hear he's got
himself a good fastball and a wicked curve too. If I were you
I'd watch out for that curve."
"Yessir, I will." Tim usually tried to talk baseball more with
Mr. Jeffries. He always thought it didn't hurt to have a girl's
father like you. But he felt a little strange talking to him
tonight ... thinking about what he was going to do to his
daughter tonight and all. Luckily, Mendy was ready on time
and there she was and GOOD GRIEF did she look good.
" Where you kids going tonight?"
" Oh Daddy, we're just going to the show. Don't worry,
we'll be home early."
" All right. But don't you keep that boy out too late, he's
got to go up against that Renfro boy Monday. You kids have
fun ."
Tim couldn't keep his eyes off Mendy as they were walking
to the car. She was wearing something new- some kind of
silky , flowery thing that looked so soft and clung ... clung to
everything. The yellows and greens in the dress complemented
Mendy's newly-acquired, first-of-the-spring tan; and her blonde
hair, much longer now than when Tim had first seen her that
day in junior high, curled and fluffed in the right places. When
Tim opened the door for Mendy to get into the car, she
smelled the lemon fragrance and told Tim how sweet he was.
" And the seats are so slippery too." She looked at Tim and
giggled.
It's a long drive to the Lady of the Lake. Even further than
to Green-eyes. It was way out in the county and up a little
mountain road. So Tim and Mendy had plenty of time to talk
and look at the springtime countryside in the light of the
setting sun. Mendy sat closer than usual to Tim-so close that
at times he had a hard time steering. They talked about
anything and everything but it, though they would sometimes
exchange knowing glances, and perhaps they giggled more than
usual. Tim thought it was strange that they didn't talk about
it. He felt that maybe they should, because he was beginning
to get more than just a little bit nervous. During lapses in the
conversation his mind would start rambling at a mile-a-minute
clip with all sorts of thoughts. "Well big boy, you're fixing to
enter the big leagues now ...what if I don't do it right or what
if my zipper gets stuck or what if we get caught or what if she
thinks I'm too small and starts laughing or ... oh my God what
if IT won't work? Oh hell, settle down. You're the big stud,
it'll work. Hell, it's GOT to work. It's the first time, I know
it'll work. Is she as nervous as I am? Why should she be; She
doesn't have to worry about anything working. I don 't think
she does anyway. Now take it easy big man, hum-baby-youthe - 0 n e -jus t - roc k - and - fi r e - t hat -0 I' - p ill-in -the r ehum .... "
The mountain road had turned into a gravel road and Tim
knew they were just Ilbout there. Looking up ahead to the left
through the trees he could see the Lady. Ah, the good 01' Lady
of the Lake. She wasn't like Green-eyes at all because you
could actually see her-some limestone rocks and twisted, dead
trees that looked like a grand lady in flowing robes when the
moon hit her.
"Steve and Debbie were right; this is romantic and no one
else is here." Tim tried to sound as nonchalant as he could. He
felt it was the man's job to keep everything steady and
smooth. He felt like ' a strong front would keep Mendy from
being nervous. But actually he didn't have the foggiest notion
of where to start. He had looked through all of his old
Playboys, and though the magazines advised him it was his job
to get things started, nowhere did they tell him how to start.
Should they start off as always with him nibbling on her ear or
should he go right in for the kill?
"Umm," Mendy said. She had a different look in her eyes
from what Tim had ever seen before. More dreamy than ever.
She reached over and started to unbutton his blue cashmere
knit shirt which matched his eyes. "Do you really love me
Timmy?" She was practically cooing. "Tell me you love me
Timmy and that we'll always be together Timmy. Oh Timmy I
love you so much." By this time she had his shirt unbuttoned
and as Tim started to reply, he leaned forward sO ,she could
take off his shirt. His elbow hit the horn and f~r what seemed
like hours "UHROOOOOOOOOGA" echoed through the
darkness. Mendy ha.d bolted straight upright and Tim felt his
hair stand on end. At least it was dark and Mendy couldn't see
him shaking his head while his face turned scarlet. They
glanced at each other and after a moment both giggled
nervously. "Sorry," ,Tim said.
Regaining his composure, Tim took off his shirt. "Mendy,
you just don't know how much all of this means to me and all.
I love you so much that it hurts. More than the highest
mountain and deeper than the deepest dell. Nobody could love
you more." Good 01' Tab Hunter, Tim thought. Mendy kissed
him on the ear and leaned back against the passenger side
door. Just as her back touched the door, she slipped on the
lemon-scented Pledge-waxed seats and bumped her head on
the door handle. Her dress had glided up t~ her waist, and
Tim, stunned at the revelation, took a minut e to react. But
only for a moment. Like a running back with good instincts,
Tim plunged through the hole for a first down. Even tangling
his foot up with the clutch didn't stop him. Soon garments
were flying and knees and elbows were being scraped on the
dash. Tonight had come.
lim propped hi~self up ag~U:st the do or thinking though ts
that only come after the pressure is off for the first time. He
looked over at Mendy and smiled. She smiled back and said "I
love you Tim."
"I love you, Mendy." And just like that tonight was over.
Tim began to wonder what tomorrow would bring. •
37
editors
EDITOR
Max Heine
MANAGING EDITOR
Susan Betts
NON -FICTION
Eric Forsbergh
FICTION
Martin Covert
POETRY
Marla Puziss
ART
phil Rose
PHOTOGRAPHY
Ron Harr
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
Connie Jones
(c) copyright 1975, by the University of
Tennessee.
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contributors.
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