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writing-good-vibes · 1 year ago

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you know what they say about dead men

ever wondered why corey has daddy issues? look no further. another instalment of the road trip, at last, just in time for the one year ends anniversary !! divider by @/firefly-graphics

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x michael myers relationship, age difference, smut, unsafe kink practices, alcohol consumption, mentions of daddy issues, and mild mentions of unhappy/unstable childhood, implied child abuse and dysfunctional parental relationships.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

Wally Cunningham is dead; mangled in a motorcycle crash in 1999, leaving behind a wife and son. Corey had carried that with him since he was old enough to ask why he didn't have a daddy like the kids at school did.

Joan chose the details carefully, spinning a cautionary tale about how dangerous the world was, how his daddy wasn't smart enough to keep out of trouble, how it's so much better for Corey to stay at home, safe and sound, with her. To stay at home where she can look after him. And Corey believed her, for a while anyway. Why wouldn't he?

In a dirty dive bar in Florida, Corey is finishing his fourth beer of the night before ordering another one. Michael sits stoically beside him, his gaze focused impossibly on the mirror behind the bar from beneath the trucker hat pulled low over his eyes.

Beneath the sound of shouts and jeers and idle chatter, the AC unit rattles steadily, keeping only some of the balmy heat at bay. Corey sweats, curls sticking at his temples and an itch working it's way down his nape, but he he doesn't take his cord jacket off.

"Hey, Wally," someone shouts. It's not an uncommon name, especially for men of a certain age. There's probably a handful of Walters and Wallaces in this bar alone, right?

Still, Corey glances over his shoulder, taking a long swig from his new beer.

The man who shouted had just arrived, and in the time it took Corey to turn around, he's snaked his way through the throngs of patrons to a table in the corner. He claps an older man heartily on the shoulder as he sits down.

Corey's jaw drops, and he dribbles some of his beer down himself.

The older man -- and he does look old, these days -- is startlingly familiar. Corey would know him anywhere, he's seen him a thousand times over in his dreams. He still has a beard, though it has long since greyed. He's wearing a bandana tied over long, equally grey hair. A motorcycle jacket is slung over the back of his seat. Of course he has a motorcycle jacket.

Corey wipes the beer from his chin and tells himself to stop staring, but he can't help it. Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, besides the ones that live in his head, but there's no other explanation for what he's seeing. No explanation that he's got the guts to take.

Because Wally Cunningham is dead. He was mangled in a motorcycle accident in 1999, leaving behind his wife and son. Corey has carried that with him every day of his life. He dealt with the school yard teasing and pushed the grief of every empty father's day deep down. He managed just fine when he learnt to tie his own tie and how to shave on his own. He managed just fine when Momma married Ronald and they all played happy families for a while until the precarious honeymoon phase passed. Corey has managed just fine.

So why is Wally Cunningham sat in a dive bar in Florida, laughing and joking, like he hasn't been dead for more than 20 fucking years.

For a split second, something like elation passes through Corey. That's his dad. His dad who was an All-American man. Who fought in Vietnam. Who would of taught Corey how to ride a trike, and then a bike, and then maybe even a motorcycle when he got old enough. Who would have played catch with him in the yard and coached him to join the baseball team. Who would have made Momma loosen her grip. "You can't keep your eyes on him every second, Joan. Let the boy live," his dad would have said. His dad who had loved him and it was just a terrible, tragic accident that tore them apart.

But then those familiar, safe daydreams fade, like smoke on the breeze. Like they'd never existed at all. His dad is alive, and he hasn't seen Corey in over 20 fucking years.

Without thinking, Corey gets up, leaving Michael sat on his own at the bar. In his haste, desperate not to lose sight of the old man at the table in the corner, Corey forgets to put his beer down, and his knuckles clench white against the glass.

"Wally Cunningham?" his voice is pitifully hopefully. It feels like a betrayal.

Wally turns away from his friends, a congregation of similarly aged-looking bikers with bandanas and bruised knuckles, and looks up at Corey, scowling. "Who's asking, kid?"

Corey swallows thickly around the growing grief in his throat, "I'm Corey."

Wally raises an eyebrow. For a long, disgusting moment Corey can see that his name doesn't ring a bell. The dots aren't connecting.

Until they do. "Corey? God, haven't you grown." Wally looks him up and down, taking in the sight before him. Corey wasn't vain, especially not now, but he has to resist the urge to shrink under his father's narrowed eyes. His hair is a little shaggy since he hasn't got around to trimming it lately, his thrift-store jeans are forever the wrong size, and his tarnished silver belt buckle glints just barely under the smoke-hazy bar lights.

"Well, it's been 23 years." 23 years of mourning only to find that the coffin was empty all along.

Wally nods in muted agreement. "What are you doing here?"

Wally's reserved reaction feels like the single spark that starts a bonfire, drawing in oxygen while Corey struggles to breath. "I should be asking you that. Momma told me you were dead, she said that you died."

Wally has the guts to chuckle, "She did? That doesn't surprise me, she always was fucking nuts. Well, boy, I'm still kicking"

His friends laugh along, but otherwise stay out of it. When Corey thinks about this conversation later -- and he will be thinking about it later, turning it over and over obsessively until he does something stupid over it -- he'll wonder how many of them knew Wally had a son at all. If he ever mentioned the life he'd left behind in Illinois, or if he wiped the slate clean with each state line he crossed. Just like Corey did nowadays.

Corey shakes his head as he connects his own dots, "You're not dead. You're not -- you've been alive this whole time."

Wally tries to be warm, but it doesn't suit him, "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are we? I guess you must take after me, son."

Corey's deep scowl says otherwise; Wally can see Corey is very much Joan's boy. He always was. "You left us, me and Momma."

"Son, your mother told me to leave, so I did. That marriage was a mistake, it's a good job I left her when I did, or I don't know how it would have ended, but it'd wouldn't have been good, I can tell you that --"

"You left me!" Corey shouts, cringing when his voice breaks. "You didn't just walk out on Momma, you walked out on me, didn't you?" His fingers tighten even more around the beer bottle, just a little tighter and --

Suddenly, Corey feels a presence behind him. He knows it's Michael, knows his outrage must of have stirred him from his thoughts and led him over, eager -- if Michael could ever be described as eager -- to be close by in case Corey makes a scene.

Michael clamps a hand down on his shoulder, pulling him away from Wally by a couple of paces. The friends sat around his table shift uneasily in Michael's hulking, scarred presence, a fact Corey revels in as he leans back into Michael's touch. His fingers loosen on the beer bottle.

There's a tense moment of silence as the reality of this strange situation settles over them all. It reminds him of the tabloid shows Momma used to watch when he was little, the ones she shooed him out of the room for: Long lost son, meet absent father.

Finally, "This a friend of yours?" Wally gestures.

Friend. Corey's lip curls into a smirk, "He's my --"

What exactly is Michael? Boyfriend sounds too juvenile, and lover too tender. Daddy crosses his mind, as a sick little dig, or my old man. He doesn't think any of those would go down too well here, though. Partner is ambiguous, but too formal. Accomplice is fitting, very fitting, but he can't go around saying things like that in public. Cult leader is what it feels like sometimes, but a bit too grandiose for their current predicament.

"Yeah, this is Michael," Corey settles on. The pause he used to gather his thoughts was loud though, and something like doubt crosses Wally's face. But he was never fucking there, so he can go fuck himself if he thinks his opinion matters now. He can think what he likes, for all Corey cares -- and oh god, he cares, he cares so fucking much it makes him sick. Wally's probably right though, in one way or another.

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You left Illinois?" Wally tries again.

Illinois is so far behind them in the rear view mirror that it scares him sometimes, but Corey is headed West, and he isn't stopping -- for anything or anyone -- until he reaches the very end of the line. "We're just passing through," Corey shrugs.

They talk for a while, but Corey doesn't sit down at Wally's table. He doesn't accept a drink when someone goes for another round. He sneers instead of laughs when Wally's friends try to crack jokes. He stays stood in front of Michael, leaning just slightly against him when Michael takes his hand off his shoulder. Michael doesn't complain, doesn't move, just listens silently to the faux-casual conversation going on in front of him. Waiting.

Against his already-scarce better judgement, Corey does agree to stay in town for a few days and meet Wally again tomorrow. They have a lot of catching up to do.

Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, but still doesn't shake Wally's hand when he offers it, scared of what it might feel like. So, instead he smirks, a crooked gesture, and turns to leave, taking Michael with him.

The motel room is quiet and dim, the nicotine-stained bedside lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the pair while the corners of the room stay shrouded in darkness. A safe and secret place to hide away.

Corey talks and talks, half to himself and half to Michael, wanting to purge every little thought in his head until there's nothing left.

"I don't fucking need him, I never needed him! I never needed him. I don't fucking -- oh fuck -- i got by fine, didn't I? That fucking piece of shit, never fucking needed him. I wish he really was dead, dead in the fucking ground. We should -- that's what we should do, I'm gonna -- please -- And who does he think he is? Talking to me like he didn't fucking walk out on me, on his baby. Can you imagine leaving a baby all alone? Leaving me with Momma. And he didn't even care -- he never fucking cared! -- didn't care that she was gonna swallow me whole. And he knew, he fucking knew, how bad M-Momma was and he s-s-still left me. He ne-ever loved me, did he? Because you wouldn't leave someone like that if you loved them. He never... he never... Why didn't he love me?"

Corey's talk turns into tearful babbles even as he keeps rocking his hips down against Michael's upward thrusts, fucking himself past the point of stupid. Rage and grief gnawing such a deep, deep pit in his stomach that he wants it filled immediately. Wants to fill it with the type of pain-pleasure that Michael delivers without even trying. Wants to choke on it, hot and heavy and ruinous.

But who was Corey kidding? The gaping black hole inside him wasn't new, it hadn’t been gouged out by tonight’s revelations. No, no it had been there for as long as he could remember, and it was Wally who had carved it out, taking it with him when he left and leaving Corey wanting.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. I don't care -- I don't -- I don't fucking need anyone. 'Cause I've got you, right? No one ever gave a shit about me, but I'm still here. I - I don't need them. Don't need anyone. I fucking saved myself. No, no, you saved me. And it's just me and you and we're gonna -- it's gonna be -- You'll never leave me, right? Please don't leave me, please don't -- I wanna be with you. I wanna... You wouldn't leave me. No, no, no, not like him, you're not like him -- you're more of a man than he'll ever be, and you're a fucking monster... Oh, god -- FUCK -- Oh, you can keep me forever and ever and ever and --"

Michael pushes him down onto his back. Corey chokes on a gasp as the angle changes and Michael sets a new, more ruthless pace. Ploughing into him -- too hard and too fast and too much -- as Corey's mouth stops working, his grief-stricken rambles melting into moans.

This happens sometimes, Michael losing patience when Corey runs his mouth, but usually Corey has enough sense to know when shut up. Corey's on the edge and he knows that Michael knows that, knows it when a rough, scarred hand closes around his throat, pressing dangerously on either side of his windpipe.

Corey sucks in a breath until he can't anymore.

The motel room is quiet and dark, once Corey reaches over to shut off the lamp.

He's still sniffling quietly, his sweaty skin sticking to Michael's as he arranges the older man's arms around his shoulders. Michael keeps them there limply, silently, as Corey wraps himself around him.

Abandonment feels so much worse than grief ever had. Wally wasn't dead, he just never wanted Corey. Wally wasn't dead, Corey just wasn't good enough.

Corey's fingers clench. There's a knife on the nightstand, and in his duffle, and one tossed onto the floor along with his clothes. His fingers relax. There's a snub-nose .38 revolver in the glove compartment of their truck.

"He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?" Corey mutters, "Just like she did..." He blinks up at Michael through wet lashes.

Michael doesn't say anything.

He agrees, Corey decides, smiling.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x michael myers #cunningmyers #🔪🎃 happy ends anniversary 🎃🔪#a little bit proud of this one ??#i think if he gives himself time to think. corey definitely blames joan heavily for driving wally away #but in the moment he's so full of shock. and his whole world view has been destroyed. that he entirely blames wally #it's a tough one. him missing wally has been an open wound his whole life #everything he does comes back to who he is. and he has always been a little boy who misses his daddy.#(but joan's dead. she got what she deserved. wally on the other hand?)#wally cunningham hate club #joan cunningham hate club #hmmm i write corey as such a blabber mouth on this road trip. despite him being the least talkative guy in the world in canon lol #but michael doesn't talk ever. corey needs to fill the space or he's going to start splitting on michael #and he only really does it when he's upset or particularly pleased. so i still defend my dialogue choices as in character lol

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marisoft-paint-adventures · 2 years ago

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Pgs. 61-69

the existence of Colonel Sassacre is 1 of the more bizarre parts of early Homestuck. I guess 1 day Hussie really wanted to do a riff on Mark Twain of all people, except he’s some prankster god with a wizard hat.

yeah I don’t get Hussie’s thought processes a lot of times.

the text itself is kinda amusing, old English fuckery about japing people with “The Creepy-Crawlies” because you just really hate your aunt or some “gent” who-

wait what does that say?

listless- OH! that’s a slur! hi everybody!

Did You Know? Homestuck Has Slurs.

the uh... “discourse”???? around slurs in Homestuck sure is something because people like to fight tooth and nail for their existence in the comic, but in a way that is simply... odd.

most of these shitfests about derogatory language in media involve people who publicly advertise how fucking Cool they are because they Like Things That Are Offensive complaining about how the Liberal SJW Snowflake Democrat Tumblrite Triggered Buzzword Buzzwords are mad at words so they will Cancel Culture the media and they should something something Grow A Spine Man Up Go To The Real World something something.

but in Homestuck’s case you’ll have fans who really want to defend the slur usage as some sort of fight to preserve the work. the discussion of how Homestuck is preserved is a good one, but like

the slurs????

what are you losing with the slurs????????

sure, the language, much like anything else in the comic, is a part of this period piece the work exists as, a very much at the time sort of thing. it’s the late 2000s, Hussie hangs out in forums with edgelords, they’re also Some White Guy who grew up in The Slurs Part of America.

Homestuck Made This World actually goes into this pretty well:

Michael: Old internet history, there's a lot of bad and offensive stuff in there, and some of that comes through into the comic.

CMRN: It was mainstream humor, that's what's kinda weird about it, and that's something that's easy to forget now, right? Y'know there was a popular film in the early 2000s where Johnny Knoxville cons his way into the Special Olympics, and every prank TV show from Jackass to The Jamie Kennedy Experiment, everyone remembers that, people get into X, to uh- Gosh, what was the Ashton Kutcher one?

Michael: Uh, Punk'd.

CMRN: Uh, yeah, trucker hat, you're right. And that, right? So there was this kind of like general, just like, extremely virulent anti-disability, you know anti-disabled people, element to humor, which I don't really know that was such a prominent thing. Maybe it was at the point where, you know for example, certain forms of race based humor just didn't play anymore, so mainstream comedy had to find a place where it was acceptable to, you know, hate certain people essentially? I don't quite know one or another, but I actually associate Hussie quite often, of course the R-word was used constantly and regularly by basically everyone, I mean it was a huge kind of corner stone of both internet and real world meatspace culture. But for whatever reason, I have this, in mind, Hussie relationship to particularly that form of humor.

Michael: We are going to see what happens when the internet specifically drifts away from this, or not even drifts away, that's putting it too softly. Internet culture, sort of fan culture, is going to pivot away from that type of humor pretty hard. And we can so those tensions bubble up into the comic when we get to those points. Cause of course, you mention, you know, the R-word, it's used, not liberally, but regularly I think throughout kind of the opening acts of Homestuck. And it's one of those things that really jumps out to me looking back, because it did not jump out at me in 2008-2009, right?

CMRN: Yeah.

Michael: Like, I am not free from this, I was never like, y'know, above all of this. I too am a product of culture, and it is bizarre to kind of go back and notice things like that and be like "Oh yeah, we were just like, dropping that, and that was kind of messed up!"

CMRN: Yeah, I think one thing that is important is to even have like a short historical kind of memory about this kind of thing, because yeah, like I was just saying. The R-word and making fun of people with intellectual disabilities, just broadly, was a corner stone of comedy, I would say that maybe one third of jokes, period, from stand up to- I mean, this is obviously a little bit of hyperbole, it's not straight up a third, but if you look at sketch comedy from the time, from its mainstream to whatever obscure, you're gonna find a huge amount of that, that's a massive part of it. And it was just part of our comedy culture, I mean, that's a historical reality, and it's a historical reality that we live through. And I guess the beneficial thing, or the good thing, obviously there is no good thing about doing that, but the good thing of living in the moment that we do now, is that we seem to have, as a culture, completely gotten rid of that, or at least in parts of culture who were not interested in just trolling other people and purposefully offending other people. I think for the most part everyone, or people were in involved in cultural production have realized "Yeah that was- that was pretty bad. Like, why are we engaging in that." And that's heartening. But yeah, it was just a part of it. And I agree, while reading this kind of section that we read for episode one, it really sticks out when it shows up. But also, if you're reading Homestuck and you're like "Ah, that's kind of a bummer that that's showing up." Or "That's awful that that's showing up." The way it's just peppered in and used normally in conversation is the way it was used in 2008-2009 by many many people, obviously not everyone, obviously some people realized how bad that was, but I would say the majority of conversation. Certainly the people I went to high school with, and even when I was in college was when this was kind of moving out, and certainly when I got to college is when I was like "Oh, this, you shouldn't say this. This is bad."

but many arguments about how humor and language was back in that context is often used to absolve Hussie from any sort of blame. they didn’t mean to do it, it just seemed fun! what’s a little slur usage between online besties? however, you see, not everyone who lived in the 2000s was a massive bigot and/or liked dropping slurs. I can tell you that because I was there and I was not racist, actually. at the same time as 4chan and Something Awful users were spewing whatever you could find in the depths of the Wikipedia page for every racial slur in existence, you’d have high school to college campaigns, TV PSAs, informative pamphlets, and whatnot yelling in your face that you should probably not say slurs because slurs are kind of bad. it was “acceptable” in some areas to throw around an r-word, but there was certainly a pushback.

it’s not even like Hussie just suddenly stopped using these words afterwards, because they gladly repeat the r-word a million different times in a paragraph of commentary for Act 2 in its Topatoco book print, which was published in 2012.

I'd paste the entire thing word for word but:

I am not really comfortable considering how bad this gets.

it’d be easier to have the original panel itself for context.

so here’s a screencap instead:

bare in mind this was kept for the reprint by Viz Media in Book 1.

in other words, no, Hussie was not an innocent victim of the Big Internet Hivemind that decided that people should say slurs as a form of greeting, they were a human being who made a conscious choice to add these words to their work.

they don’t add anything, they’re only in the comic because that’s how Hussie spoke at the time and for some reason they couldn’t keep them out of their mouth.

and I’m serious on that last bit because some are thrown around from Rose and in the narration of Jade’s perspective and... no... they wouldn’t say that.

the goth girl who tries her hardest to look highbrow and the ray of sunshine herself would never utter such foul language that’s literally just Hussie speaking through them.

Dave would totally though he’s just that kind of guy.

on the other side of the coin I’ve seen fans recommend new readers to download the Homestuck Slur Replacement Project mod to make the experience more comfortable, that’s good.

but also a lot of them act like it’s just the slurs that make the comic a hard sell in terms of controversy, and

buddy,

there’s still a lot of fucking weird shit. the entire work is not suddenly completely accessible because you get rid of a bunch of r-words and an f-word. we’ve all seen the fucking content warnings people make for new readers, this comic is fucked.

what is a new reader gonna think when they go through the comic thinking nothing worse than some slurs will pop up and then this guy makes a grand fucking entrance.

yes I am singling Kankri out, fuck him.

but then, flipping back to the side I was originally talking about, I’ve seen those who decide that mods such as the Slur Replacement Project are cardinal fucking sins against Homestuck itself. and

why???

what does it matter that someone’s personal copy of Homestuck is slightly edited???

again, really interesting stuff could be discussed about how Homestuck was being consumed at the time and how it should be consumed now, but this is just petty.

basically in summary uhhh this video:

youtube

#homestuck liveblog #hs liveblog #hs reread #liveblog #reread #live read #liveread #homestuck #hs1 #hs #home22tuck #Act 1 #homestuck made this world #slur #Youtube

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ohc-and-the-music-tapes-archive · 2 years ago

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Art Notes column in Flagpole, 22 June 2005, describing Sunaura Taylor’s exhibition and mentioning Elephant 6 members.

[source]

transcript:

ART NOTES THREE SHOWS UNDER ONE ROOF

There were days in my childhood when rumors of the circus coming to town offered relief from the heat and stillness of summer. Instead of a circus this week, Athens has AthFest 2005. And in conjunction with AthFest, the Lyndon House Arts Center has art to turn your head. With three shows under one roof, there is something for everyone:

Headspinning: Discover “Headspinning: Inspiration from the Canvas to the Album Cover.” This exhibit offers the chance to see the art that inspired album covers. See the drawing from Randy Bewiey’s sketchbook that became the cover of Pylon’s Gyrate, and the trestles from the cover of R.E.M’s Murmur, and Chris Bilheimer’s many Polaroids that became covers for R.E.M., Green Day, Mendoza Line, Toadies and Ben Mize. There are works in the exhibit that hold much more interest than the familiar album cover, such as two of Terry Rowlett’s paintings. A tiny image on the cover of Five Eight’s The Good Nurse, Rowlett’s painting of a nurse holding flowers, standing in a serene Tuscan landscape, is actually large-scale. The detail of the painting is much more satisfying than the cover suggests. Rowlett’s painting on the cover of Kevin Kinney’s Sun Tangled Angel Revival is divided in half. In the painting, baby Jesus (with a cowboy hat) and Mary float above an old Chevy in a Jerusalem- meets-Arizona landscape. On the album cover, the virgin and child are on one side while the Chevy is on the other. On Elf Power's Creatures, Laura Carter's collage appears polished and seamless; but the original is delicate, vulnerable and obviously labored over by hand. A simple pencil drawing by Stephanie Dotson became the cover of the Phosphorescent album. This cover shows how something raw can be manipulated into a finished product. Other highlights from the exhibit include John Hawkins’ “A Young Professional,” from No Time by The Squalls; the R.A. Miller painting that became part of an Elf Power cover, Andy Cherewick’s painting found on the cover of Dream in Sound, and “Heckatie” by Jeff Owens found on a Drive-By Truckers cover. “Headspinning” will be up through Aug. 6.

Loved Ones and Marshmallows: Sunny Taylor has has developed a skillful approach to classical figure painting. Her paintings stand out as misplaced relics from Madrid's Prado Museum. Only recognizing the subjects of the paintings gives away the third millennium as the date of completion. “Robee and Julian,” is a double portrait which shows the two Athens residents who were Music Tapes wearing marching band jackets. A larger-than-life portrait of Jeff Mangum includes the drawings of little creatures always found on his pants; and, his loud laugh can be heard in the smile Taylor has painted on his face. The love the artist has for her subjects can be seen in these paintings, as well as in the portraits of her sister Astra. Two paintings have a slightly more powerful edge about them. Both “Jolly Jumper” and “Butterfly” are self-portraits painted from childhood photographs. These paintings show a bold melancholy, and an intense attention to detail. The lace on the gown of the baby in “Jolly Jumper” involves an incredible manipulation of paint. “Butterfly” combines the creature of freedom and flight with the look of a frustrated child. Michael Lachowski’s work consists of bold, gestural drawings and fashion photographs. Check out last week's Flagpole on-line at www.flagpole.com for more details on his work. This show runs through Aug. 6.

Golden Threads: The 50th Anniversary of the Chattahoochee Handweavers Guild is marked with the Biennial Southeast Regional Juried Show titled “Golden Threads: Connecting Innovation and Tradition.” The exhibit includes works as diverse as Pat Stettler’s wildly-patterned colorful fabric piece, to Linda Harshbarger’s delicate design and subtle colors. Aaron McIntosh from Smithville, TN, has created a fanciful composition with fiber in which an abstracted road, with dashed yellow lines, leads to a castle with smoke-stacks. Another unique piece is by Jeana Eve Klein from Boone, NC, titled “How to Build a Clique; it uses three dimensions to add interest to the figures and diagrams in the composition. Among the highlights of the exhibit are three large city-scapes by Elizabeth Barton, who is from Athens. The Chattahoochee Handweavers Guild has grown out of a group of five Atlanta women who, in 1955, shared an interest in weaving. The guild has remained flexible and has evolved into a contemporary entity. “Golden Threads” is up until July 15.

Endnotes: Bozeman Pottery has opened at 150 Barrow St. Hours to view the ceramics made from clay dug by Jim Bozeman himself are 1 p.m. to 6 p.m. Contact him at [email protected]. Clayton Street Gallery has re-opened with a fresh Perspective and a new gallery committee.

Beth Sale Email art news to [email protected].

#Sunaura Taylor #Elephant 6 #visual arts #Laura Carter #Julian Koster #Robbie Cucchiaro #Jeff Mangum #articles #2005

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