Martha's Vineyard Arts & Ideas

91 Dukes County Ave

Oak Bluffs, Martha's Vineyard

ARTISTS FOR HUMANITY GROUP EXHIBITION

June 24 - July 16

Reception July 15, 3-4pm

FIBERS OF MY SOUL GROUP EXHIBITION

July 21 - October 8

Reception July 22 4-7pm

Adana Tillman, Amber Robles-Gordon, Andrea Grillo, Daryl Royster Alexander, Ella Mahoney, Jaleeca Yancy Maria-Lana Queen, Martha Mae Jones & Tessa Alexander

ART STROLLS

OAK BLUFFS ARTS DISTRICT 4-7PM

July 15

August 12

September 2

73 Circuit Ave

Oak Bluffs, Martha's Vineyard

JUNETEENTH CELEBRATION

June 16 - June 19

SIGNIFICANCE OF 5 GROUP EXHIBITION

June 24 - October 8

Anina Major, Basil Watson, Bryan Collier, Charly Palmer, Clarence James, Daryl Royster Alexander, Kip 'Kipkemoi' Henke, Maria-Lana

Queen, Marryam Moma, Robert Hauck, Shanneil Clarke & Stephanie Danforth

5TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION

August 5, 11am-5pm

Evening Reception

August 5, 6-9pm

www.know hereart.com

Artwork by Clarence James

UNTAMEABLE GALLERY

UNTAMEABLE GALLERY

UNTAMEABLE GALLERY

We’ve Moved to 10 S. Summer Street

We’ve Moved to 10 S. Summer Street

We’ve Moved to 10 S. Summer Street

Open for The Season!

Open for The Season!

Summer hours 10am - 6pm

Summer hours 10am - 6pm

Open for The Season!

Summer hours 10am - 6pm

Illustration By Amber Grey

Illustration By Amber Grey

Davis House Gallery

985 State Road - West Tisbury 508-693-4691 · www.allenwhiting.com

Gallery Open July 1 - September 3

Saturdays & Sundays from 1-6 pm AND By appointment

Publishers

Peter and Barbara Oberfest Editor

Connie Berry

Contributing Editor

Kate Feiffer

Design Director

Kristófer Rabasca

Art director / production manager

David Plath

Graphic / production design

Nicole Jackson

Proofreader

Irene Ziebarth

Ad sales

Jenna Lambert

Sharisse Scott-Rawlins adsales@mvtimes.com

Founding editor / publisher

Patrick Phillips

Contact

Martha’s Vineyard Arts & Ideas

The Martha’s Vineyard Times P.O. Box 518 30 Beach Road Vineyard Haven, MA 02568

MVArtsandIdeas.com

MVArtsandIdeas@mvtimes.com

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Martha’s Vineyard Arts & Ideas magazine is published by The Martha’s Vineyard Times, publishers of The Martha’s Vineyard Times, Edible Vineyard, the daily newsletter The Minute, Vineyard Visitor, and the websites MVTimes.com, EdibleVineyard.com and VineyardVisitor.com.

You can see the digital version of this magazine at mvartsandideas.com. A&I is available at newsstands, galleries, and bookstores, free of charge. Back issues are available for $10 each.

Please inquire at mvartsandideas@mvtimes.com about subscriptions by mail.

“Moonrise West Tisbury”

Some things we do at the MV Times can best be described as a labor of love, and Arts & Ideas is definitely a passion project. We didn’t publish this magazine in 2022, and we thought about it before bringing it back with a new editorial collaboration this year. We’re thrilled that we did, because you’ll find so much in these pages. Stories about artificial intelligence, Latinx illustrators of children’s books that have been banned or challenged, and Island artists who share their work and a peek into their studios, as well as their opinions and ideas fill this issue.

Rose Styron shares an excerpt from her memoir, “Beyond This Harbor: Adventurous Tales of the Heart,” Frank Bergon’s grammatical takedown of the second amendment first appeared in May in the Los Angeles Review of Books and appears here, our very own Islanders Write gets some attention, as well as Mathew Tombers, who gives us some insight about his

work as manager of Edgartown Books. We have a little music too, with a story that takes us through a history of protest songs. Photography makes its way into the pages as well, with Portraits on Purpose, a new feature that profiles people carving their own

destiny and making an impact on the world. We hope you enjoy reading Arts & Ideas 2023 as much as we enjoyed bringing it to you.

– Connie Berry

“One Potato, Dos Potatoes” from “La Madre Goose” illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal.

CONTENTS

FEATURES

13

AI + MV = Uh-Oh

By James Dale

What happens when artificial intelligence (AI) comes to Martha’s Vineyard? Will it impact journalists, artists, photographers, writers — will they disappear? AI and its close relatives, robots and drones, could do a lot of things, some good, some not good, some questionable.

18 A thriving Black art scene

By Jennifer Smith Turner

Are we in the midst of a Black artists’ renaissance on Martha’s Vineyard? There is some evidence pointing in that direction.

24 Angr y music with a purpose

By Ray Whitaker

Protest music comes in many forms, but has it disappeared? We take a look at Billie Holiday, John Lennon, Annie Lennox, John Fogerty, Barry McGuire, and more to examine how their music fit the times.

36 Highlighting L atinx illustrators

By Kate Feiffer

Featherstone hosted an exhibit, and guess what? Some of the books these artists contributed to have been banned or challenged.

ARTIST PROFILES

9 Beth Parker’s studio secrets

By Monina von Opel

Artist Beth Parker gives us insight into what life is like in her artist studio/living room. It’s filled with books, paintings, and … a hair dryer.

28

The way of wampum

By Lucas Thors

Friends and artists Donald Widdiss and Frank Rapoza share their unique journeys, and how they create beautiful works of art turning quahog shells into illustrations of history and creativity.

40 Why is Richard Limber annoyed?

By Connie Berry

He creates social statements out of colored ink and headlines — and sometimes closet doors and kayak paddles. Some may think Richard Limber’s art is “out there,” but he thinks it’s right where it’s supposed to be.

BOOKS AND WRITING

33 Buying the Vineyard House

By Rose Styron

An excerpt from Rose Styron’s memoir “Beyond This Harbor: Adventurous Tales of the Heart.” Find out how she and her family arrived on Vineyard shores.

45 Transitions

By Cindy Kane

The artist’s essay describes how her work has changed over the years as it has been impacted by events outside and within herself.

46 Guns & Grammar

By Frank Bergon

This masterful grammatical takedown of the Second Amendment first appeared in May in the Los Angeles Review of Books. We share it here, along with a Kate Feiffer illustration.

49 For Vineyard scribes

By Kate Feiffer

Islanders Write brings literary lights of August right to our shores. Join us for workshops, panel discussions focused on the art, the craft, and the business of writing.

PORTRAITS ON PURPOSE

7 Thoughts on individual responsibility

By Jazdia Livingston / Portrait

by

Robyn Twomey

17 Positive images created for young minds

By Kerri Grant / Portrait

by

Robyn Twomey

52 We don’t have to sacrifice art for life

By Monica L. Williams / Portrait by Robyn Twomey

ONE-PAGE PORTFOLIOS

6 Max Decker paints everyday life

By Gwyn McAllister

35 Gwen Marcus in the moment

By Gwyn McAllister

53 Bricque Garber’s ‘She’ series

By Gwyn McAllister

GALLERIES & STUDIOS

54 Some of our favorites

Galleries and studios to visit on Martha's Vineyard.

56 From my perch

Edgartown Bookstore manager Mathew Tombers captures the magic of a local bookstore in his essay on conversations with customers.

Everyday life

Max Decker paints a simple yet beautiful scene of home and family.

By Gwyn McAllister

Artist Max Decker tends to focus on scenes of everyday life — quiet domestic snapshots of his wife and kids engaging in simple acts, like reading or washing dishes. His paintings are less concerned with the action, or with the figures themselves, but rather are testaments to quiet country living.

“I'm interested in those moments that happen every day that you don't really stop to take in and appreciate how beautiful they are,” says Decker, who was born and raised on the Vineyard. After spending time living in Brooklyn, where he pursued music and fashion design, Decker moved back to the Island in 2016 to focus

Seated at the table, only partially visible, is a woman taking an afternoon break, relaxing over a cup of coffee.

“The narrative is almost secondary,” says Decker. “I respond mostly to the shapes and the colors and the composition. That's really what gives me that visceral impression that I want to capture.”

The figures in the scenes are always partially hidden, often in the shadows.

“They're distinctly not portraits,” says the artist. “It adds a little mystery to the scene. It's not so directly about the person. It's more about the environment.”

Decker paints from photographs which he snaps randomly

on capturing scenes from his much-simpler rural existence.

In a painting titled “Red Okra and Pie,” Decker has captured a view of family life. As well as the titular items, a simple wooden table holds a mug, a vase of zinnias (grown by the artist's wife in their backyard garden), and two candles. The latter were salvaged from the wreck of the boat The City of Columbus by a previous owner of Decker's 19th-century farmhouse.

throughout his day, anytime he sees something that inspires him.

“The three technical considerations that assist me in deciding what to paint are color, value (contrast), and level of detail,” says Decker. “That makes the process sound robotic, but this mental checklist isn’t really employed until I find myself drawn to a certain image for more human reasons.”

Decker hasn’t recently done many paintings that aren’t within 100 feet of his Aquinnah home, the surroundings of which sometimes make him feel he’s “living in a Wyeth painting.”

“The battle to keep the house together is ongoing,” he adds. However, with the light from the Aquinnah Lighthouse shining in the couple's bedroom at night and their kids enjoying simple games (often depicted in the paintings), Decker seems to be enjoying a pretty idyllic life — one he has chosen to share through his work.

“I'm interested in those moments that happen every day that you don't really stop to take in and appreciate how beautiful they are.”

"Red Okra and Pie," oil on canvas, 30 in. x 40 in.

Thoughts on individual responsibility

By Jazdia Livingston • Portrait by Robyn Twomey

Powerful people and organizations like to hide behind the concept of individual responsibility. The destruction of our environment is made to look like the result of individual choices, when really it is the result of the values and actions of corporations and governments. While we all bear a collective responsibility to protect our planet, the vast majority of us don’t have the individual power to make a meaningful difference, while those select few that do have that power are wasting it.

Who is more responsible for pollution: the consumer who buys milk in a plastic bottle and may or may not recycle it, or the corporation that chooses to sell milk in plastic bottles instead of returnable glass bottles? Who is more responsible, the commuter who takes a plane flight because it is cheaper and more comfortable than a train, or the government that chooses to subsidize air travel while ignoring railways?

Systemic change does not result from individual choices; it results from collective action. Saving our planet is cheaper than killing it, and a renewable, sustainable world is far more comfortable to live in than a dying one. The changes that we need are broad and systemic, but they are doable. We have to demand change at a systemic level, and not just ask the people with the least power to change their actions.

Jazdia is a Fulbright scholar and environmental justice activist pursuing a PhD in Ecology. After growing up on Martha’s Vineyard, she attended college at Caltech and University College London, before moving to Australia for a Fulbright scholarship at the University of Melbourne. Her work has included developing advanced imaging techniques for chronic bacterial infections and studying the microbiomes of coral symbionts to develop probiotics to support reef health in response to rising ocean temperatures.

Photographer Robyn Twomey’s Portraits on Purpose profiles people carving their own destiny in order to have a positive impact on the world. They are changemakers, cultural innovators, and sometimes troublemakers, but always good trouble. See pages 17 and 52.

Studio Secrets

By Monina von Opel

Photos by David Welch

With a bright smile Beth Parker waves me into her kitchen — it is like entering Ali Baba’s cave, only there are no heaps of gold and silver. Instead, I tiptoe around jewels for the mind: pyramids of books in corners or spilling off shelves vying for space with stacks of painted canvases casually leaning against any vertical surface. It’s a treasure trove in its own right begging to be explored. We wind our way carefully through several rooms. Every inch of wall space is covered with art. An etching by Parker’s grandfather, Peter Huntington, of birds on a branch, a Degas lithograph of Mary Cassatt at the Louvre, and a radiant childhood

portrait of Parker, by her mother, also a painter, Anne Easton Parker.

Then, suddenly, there I am, in her studio, the living room!

She seems eager to start painting but instead leads me to the sofa that establishes her studio boundary. Leaning forward, her hands lightly clasped, she gives me another encouraging smile.

What sparks you in the morning to get started? Is there a routine? What makes your creative persona blossom?

My routine: I lie in bed in the early morning and simply don’t want to move or get up. My husband (Donald Nitchie, the poet) calls it “positional depression." But then I'll start thinking about my painting.

Beth Parker’s living room doubles as her studio, stuffed with books, paintings, and color.

Beth Parker with one of her painting projects.

Parker's hair dryer and supplies at the ready.

That makes me want to get up. Nothing else does! The idea of painting catapults me out of bed. I think of all the things I want to change, the color I want to intensify, the shape I want to adjust, a stronger color perhaps that I am sure will make all the difference. Then, I look at it and think, well … maybe I did not remember this right — maybe it’s not so bad!

I’m a night painter, I garden, then take a nap and then paint late into the night. Knowing I have a new show coming up helps me focus.

What makes me blossom you ask? I consider painting a job … do the best work you can, destroy, restart, work at it, ignore that inner recording of doubt, that inner policeman, that yearning to be recognized,

“

The idea of painting catapults me out of bed. I think of all the things I want to change, the color I want to intensify, the shape I want to adjust, a stronger color perhaps that I am sure will make all the difference.”

to be reviewed in the NYT. Just do it, work, that's what gets me going.

What’s the secret to your studio, how do you organize it?

Badly! As you can see, my studio is in the corner of our living room. There, right behind me, three square feet, proof that you can take over any space. This is the room where it happens, you don’t have to have a designated studio, you just say,

this is my studio — this is the boundary!

Everything is within reach. All I need is a window and those two old lights, this paint-encrusted swivel chair, my sweatshirt and the table, my palette — perfect.

I stretch my own canvases, I stash rolls of canvas behind the curtain; I get strapping and plywood from building trash sites and Cottles. I collect bottle caps to hold premixed colors and keep them in take-out containers with the lid on to stop the paint

A work-in-progress.

from drying out. Then I’m always ready to go. Splattered flower pots prop up canvases during the priming. The dictionary, essential, helps me with my rapper lyrics. Old newspaper images cut out here and there stimulate my imagination. This looks disorganized but it’s not. My favorite pastels are cataloged on my computer so it’s easy to get the exact same ones when I reorder. I torture my brushes but always get a good supply straight from Blicks, a dozen at a time. I raid stores for old paintings and repaint them. And, last but not least: my hair dryer, it’s in constant use. My last one lasted 30 years, I loved it — it was as encrusted with paint as I am — then, one day it failed me. Sad. I work with acrylics, the hairdryer allows me to highlight, shade and repaint with no down time. My favorite tool.

All this in three square feet, so — really — not that bad!

Who are your favorite artists, living or dead? Why?

Max Ernst and Saul Steinberg. The vision, the execution, the images, the whole package — the colors. Both influenced me profoundly.

What music do you listen to? Or do you need total silence?

Always music. Now I listen to nothing but Brazilian rappers. Dj Onga and Tasha & Tracie are my current favorites. I listen to them over and over again — it’s good for learning a new language, I merge with the music. My first husband was Brazilian — so I can speak — clumsily.

How hard is it to finish something? How do you deal with that inner policeman?

It’s more fun to begin, so I start several things which I finish “by degree.” Bolaño, the writer, says: "always be working on multiple things at once." When working on more things at once you become more ruthless, less attached, braver about fixing or letting go completely.

Do books inspire you visually? What is on your nightstand now?

Books yesss! I love fantasy and science fiction. I hate reality — I am really, really reality averse! I like images of space ports, special effects, light magic, dazzling explosions. I also like fantasy westerns. I plow through them, a book a day. I buy stacks of used paperbacks and then feel guilty because the author probably never sees one penny. I probably should send the writer a painting as a thank you.

Which is your favorite painting in this house, yours or someone else’s and why?

Xavier Navarro, over there behind you. He used to live here, but then went back to Spain. He is a Catalan painter. I bought this painting when I first became a mom with two little ones and not much cash — it was a huge investment — I bought it over time. I just gave him several post-dated checks and told him to cash them one by one. What I love about Navarro's painting is the explosion of color and architecture, the painterly handling of forces. I like muscular splashes, seeming lack of control combined with utter control of line — looseness and lightness like the work of Ralph Steadman, the British painter.

I envy them — I would like to loosen up — but it’s not me.

Tools of the trade.

Pyramids of books line the room at Parker's home studio.

Back to color. What does color mean to you? What is your favorite color? All colors need each other — they bounce off each other — in the garden as well. One should have no fear of mixing. I don’t have a favorite color but I do return

to turquoise and pink — a lot! I love color, the combination of fields of color — it’s soothing. My mother always said that just knowing about the color turquoise made her happy. That’s how I feel — turquoise, pink and blue — how can you go wrong?

Do you like to draw? Whose drawings have inspired you most?

I used to draw, but less now. Still, all the paintings do start as drawings on canvas. I look at Steinberg’s drawings, he is such a genius. He kept going even when his hand was no longer steady. I have a lot of tremor in my left hand, and I am left-handed. But, he figured it out … one hand can steady the other, stabilize it. That works.

Last question: Name me three artists you would like to invite to dinner and why?

I will NEVER do that because I hate dinner parties — especially if those artists are already peacefully dead. Why bother them? Dinner with strangers or fawning admirers — how awful! Not for me!

With that, on my way out, I buy a small painting and Parker gives me a book, begging me to promise never to return it.

Monina von Opel spent the past 14 years curating the Permanent Art Collection at the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital.

The artist in her studio space.

Parker orders brushes by the dozen.

AI + MV = Uh-Oh

Artificial intelligence collides with a charming-but-quirky Island.

By James Dale

What if…

It’s Labor Day Weekend, the Vineyard Artisans Festival at the Ag Hall. Crowds of tourists and locals mill around the ceramics, quilting, jewelry, woodcraft, photography, and painting. But there’s an especially large and animated throng around one display — onlookers two, three, and four deep, riveted to a large oil canvas, mesmerized, murmuring.

“It’s powerful, as if you’re right there.”

“I’ve never seen the Gayhead Cliffs captured like this.”

“The ochres and oranges of clay are alive, literally alive.”

“The brushstrokes seem to carve out the sides of the earth.”

“The contrast of the white sand and water — my God…”

“There’s the tip of the lighthouse at the edge of the Island … the faint

light across the morning sky…”

“It’s just breathtaking.”

“ How much is it?”

“No price tag. It could go for thousands. Maybe more.”

“Who’s the artist?”

“Who did this?”

“There in the corner … the artist’s initials: A.I.”

This painting wasn’t painted by a painter, at least not a painter as we know painters.

AI-generated Aquinnah Cliffs with ocean.

DALL·E 2

AI can write novels or screenplays, create award-winning photographs, compose music in almost any style, and yes, paint a breathtaking landscape of Gay Head. AI cannot empathize, sympathize, or make love … so far.

It was created by A.I. — artificial intelligence. It doesn’t really exist, at least not yet, but it could.

A rtificial intelligence has suddenly become one of the most ominous forces on earth. So how might AI affect one small island off the coast of the world? Since no one knows for sure where AI will take us, this is not a scientific/technological study, but more a flight of conjecture, guesswork, and what if from experts, speculators, and the rest of us.

Okay, first, what is AI?

“Artificial intelligence is the simulation of intelligent human behavior by a machine,” so says Susan Epstein, professor of computer science at Hunter College, author of over 150 publications, expert in “complex problems that harness human expertise and exploit the power of modern machines,” and a summer Chilmark resident. Referring to her definition of AI, she adds, “and who’s the judge of what’s intelligent? That’s a good one.” Generative AI, the new subset of artificial intelligence (via chatbots like ChatGPT) gathers information and turns out “seemingly new, realistic content — text, images, or audio –for a wide variety of tasks,” per the Boston Consulting Group.

So what’s the big deal? We’ve had data, automation, and big data for a long time (in tech time, perhaps thirty years). They changed life, but mostly in ways that made it better or easier — the internet, smartphones, streaming video. They brought us access to things, but they didn’t achieve “the simulation of intelligent human behavior.” They didn’t create new things, or think, or do our jobs. That’s the big

deal — and maybe the scary part.

AI can write novels or screenplays, create award-winning photographs, compose music in almost any style, and yes, paint a breathtaking landscape of Gay Head. AI cannot empathize, sympathize, or make love … so far. But it can alter life as we know it, performing tasks — from the mundane to the sophisticated — previously done only by humans or human thought. Things involving commerce, the arts, science, entertainment, finance, and labor in places like New York, Paris, Silicon Valley, Abu Dhabi, Beijing, Moscow, and almost everywhere in between.

So what might it do to life on our Island? How will artificial intelligence impact a place that staunchly resists traffic lights, even at intersections ominously called Five Corners and The Triangle? A place that has no chain retail or restaurants (unless you count Dairy Queen, Stop & Shop, and gas stations)? A place most often reached by steamships (invented in 1807 by Robert Fulton), of which there aren’t enough. A place where skunks can spray their way through family picnics or fancy bistros, but are evidently a protected species? How will the futuristic power of artificial intelligence collide with a charming-but-quirky Island named for an explorer’s daughter who didn’t actually have a vineyard?

Jonah Lipsky, born and raised on the Vineyard, computer programmer and playwright, who is writing a play about AI entitled “Cut It Out,” says, “It occurred to me that the Vineyard might be slightly insulated from some forms of automation because it's a closed system in some ways.” An island, literally. He goes on, “But on the

other hand, maybe it will be just as susceptible to job losses and such because the Vineyard is driven by this seasonal tourist economy.”

So jobs like real estate agent, fisherman, chef, waiter, golf pro, traffic cop, lawyer, journalist, artist, photographer, or travel

agent might disappear, or at the least, shrink. AI and its close relatives, robots and drones, could do a lot of things, some good, some not good, some questionable. Drones could deliver blood and medicines to the hospital or directly to patients. Robots could not only stock supermarket shelves but,

AI-generated Aquinnah Cliffs.

AI-generated Aquinnah Cliffs with ocean, Kate Feiffer-style.

armed with generative AI, predict demand to know when to put which foods out and how much to charge. Machine learning could load ferries, utilizing geometry and logic to optimize every ship’s capacity. All that would be efficient but could eliminate a lot of jobs. Ironically, that might allevi-

The Vineyard has two newspapers (while most places are lucky to have one), so might AI replace reporters or even eliminate one or both papers? Might this article be written by ChatGPT? Couldn’t this all happen? Yes. And even the toughest select board can’t create zoning laws to bar AI from MV. How does AI do this nefarious stuff? Renee Richardson Gosline, senior lecturer in Management Science at MIT Sloan School of Management and head of Human-First AI Group at MIT's Initiative on the Digital Economy — and devoted Vineyard summer visitor — explains that AI “regresses to the mean,” or the mathematical average — that which is between extremes. “So if you are relatively mainstream, if you essentially want a continuation of what's already out there, then AI makes more efficient the replication of that.” It produces output that most people find acceptable most of the time. A pleasant vacation itinerary, a standard cover letter for a summer job, a list of popular beach novels, and some typical scenic photo spots. But it doesn’t stray from the mean.

Yes, a beautiful painting of the Gay Head Cliffs could be created by “regressing to the mean,” that is going to the trillions of bits of data and “scraping” the most popular images of cliffs, the most desired views, the sun rising or setting at the most favored times, a lighthouse — which is always a winner — and perhaps a flock of birds. But maybe an honest-to-God, painted by a human holding a brush in hand, oil painting or watercolor of Chappy or Stonewall Beach or Sengekontacket, displayed next to that “generated” art will be even more prized, more valuable. After all, it’s real. The same goes for handcarved bowls at the Chilmark Flea Market. And low-light photographs taken at dawn over Menemsha. And handcrafted, beadby-bead wampum bracelets at Aquinnah. Real things create their own market and demand and panache. Maybe the restored whaling captain’s house turned B & B, or the local secret recipe chowder, or the fishing trip with the old guy who knows where the stripers are, or the Flying Horses, or Illumination Night, or jumping off the bridge, or the porch in Chilmark where you might see undercover celebs chowing down on pizza, will set Martha’s Vineyard apart from a commoditized world. Diverging from the mean. Maybe Island life will thrive, not only in spite of, but because of AI.

ate some of the housing shortage … but that could also further polarize the Island’s economy. Robots could handle real estate open houses, or crack lobsters, or build homes. Chatbots could draft a summer rental contract, teach sailing, or even give Island poet laureates a run for their rhymes.

But is Martha’s Vineyard the “mean”? Maybe our being insulated, an island, is our salvation. John Sundman, self-described hardware/software/science tech writer who escaped to Martha’s Vineyard to become a truck driver, firefighter, and science fiction author, says, “...yes, on Martha's Vineyard we are insulated a bit from today's modern world over there in America.” And that might be a good thing. Could a place that is purposely different, purposely away from mainstream, an island literally and figuratively, create an alternative to AI by focusing on the uncommon denominators?

Or maybe it will be something in between. Susan Epstein has coined a term, “collaborative intelligence.” She says, “The idea is, there are things machines are good at and things people are good at. There’s no reason to make one of us do something others are better at, whether it’s multiplication or holding someone's hand.”

While some jobs might disappear, others might be created. There’s a whole new category referred to as prompt engineers, humans who can make AI work better.

How will the futuristic power of artificial intelligence collide with a charming-but-quirky Island named for an explorer’s daughter who didn’t actually have a vineyard?

AI-generated Aquinnah Cliffs with ocean, Thomas Hart Benton-style.

AI-generated Aquinnah Cliffs, van Gogh-style.

They feed specific criteria into a platform like ChatGPT to help it produce more usable output. So instead of a local tour guide having a rather generic website churned out by AI, with the help of a prompt engineer AI could help highlight specialized tours of Cottage City, or the captain’s houses of Edgartown, or the best hiking trails. The newspapers might have fewer reporters but more editors, acting as prompt engineers to assure accuracy in articles, to prevent a story that mistakenly refers to the Vineyard as Cape Cod or worse, Nantucket.

Some people refer to these prompters as “AI whisperers.” Humans who whisper to the machines to make them more accurate, more specific, less “scraping data” and perhaps more Vineyard-y. Maybe a whisperer could even give AI clues on how to manage that pesky skunk problem. One expert, Babson and MIT’s Tom Davenport, in a departure from his usual weighty work, suggested we use image recognition software to track the skunks’ routes, coupled with foods that encourage or discourage their trespasses. It

could work, assuming the whisperer didn’t have to get too close to the skunk.

Maybe life as we know it will change seismically. Or maybe not. Maybe, as Jonah Lipsky sees it, “Humans aren't evolutionarily adapted to live in sort of deconstructed communities.” So maybe we’ll resist, not

concert-going like Beach Road Weekend? So, who knows? John Sundman, the sci-fi guy, says, “My crystal ball is in the shop, getting repaired.”

Oh, by the way, that painting of the Cliffs at the Artisans Festival might have had the lighthouse on the wrong side of the Island, on the southeast corner, not the northeast, because the landscape had a gap that needed to be filled and lighthouses are always popular, so it dropped one in. After all, it’s what most people like most of the time. But it’s not real. It’s not Martha’s Vineyard.

just on the Vineyard, but everywhere. What else explains the resurgence of vinyl records in a digital music world? Or the popularity of minor league baseball games like the Sharks over the glitz and hype of major league venues? Or the rise of in-person

James Dale is a nonfiction writer who has co-authored books on topics from sports to business to medicine to politics, most recently the memoir “We’re Better Than This,” with the late Congressman Elijah Cummings. Jim also writes a column for the Martha’s Vineyard Times, Second Acts, about Islanders who have pursued major course changes in their lives.

DALL·E 2

Aquinnah Cliffs with ocean, another Thomas Hart Benton AI version.

Positive images created for young minds

By Kerri Grant • Portrait by Robyn Twomey

My career has allowed me to positively impact culture and society by featuring characters of color in lead roles. I’ve been a staff writer on “Doc McStuffins,” which features a Black girl who’s a doctor for her stuffed animals and toys; “Nella the Princess Knight,” a biracial princess/knight; “Elena of Avalor,” Disney’s first Latina princess; “Mira, Royal Detective,” Disney’s first Indian lead, and most recently I was the showrunner on Netflix’s “Ada Twist, Scientist,” which features an 8-year-old Black scientist. The representation cannot be overstated. The small percentage of Black female physicians at the time “Doc McStuffins” was created began a movement called “We Are Doc McStuffins,” inspired by the series. And I’ve heard stories about little boys wondering if they “can be doctors too” after watching the show. I’ve heard that people didn’t know there were Black scientists in the world, but hopefully having “Ada Twist, Scientist” as a presence in the world will help to expand that thinking and awareness. I am immensely grateful to have carved out this career where I’ve been blessed to be a part of imprinting these positive images on young minds.

Kerri was born in Jamaica and when she was 11 years old, settled in New York with her family, where being an immigrant and feeling like an outsider led to writing poetry in her journal. Kerri has won the Peabody Award, Humanitas Prize, NAACP Image Award, Sentinel Award, and NAMIC Award. She’s written for several animated shows and was most recently an executive producer on the Netflix show “Ada Twist, Scientist,” a co-production between Netflix, Chris Nee’s Laughing Wild, and the Obamas' Higher Ground Productions for

which she won an Emmy for Outstanding Preschool Series. Kerri earned a master’s degree in Mythological Studies from Pacifica Graduate Institute, is now a 10-time Emmy nominee and one-time winner, and lives in Los Angeles with her Black cat, Luna. She is a frequent visitor to Martha’s Vineyard, a place she calls her future home.

"Beauty Is More Than Skin Deep,"

acrylic on wood panel, 60 in. x 50 in.

CHARLY PALMER

A thriving Black art scene

Is there a Martha’s Vineyard Renaissance in the making?

By Jennifer Smith Turner

Martha’s Vineyard has a rich history of Black art that has been shaped by the experiences of our African American community over many decades. In the early 20th century, Martha's Vineyard became a popular summer destination for

African American families from Boston, New York, the Midwest, and all points across the country. These families brought with them a new wave of Black art, including literature, visual art, and theater. The Island became a hub for Black artists, writers, and intellectuals who were seeking a space to create and share their work.

A group of these artists who had studied at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston began to gather on Martha’s Vineyard. Among them were painters Lois Mailou Jones and Allan Rohan Crite, who would become two of the Island's most wellknown Black artists.

Jones, who first visited the Island in the

LOIS MAILOU JONES

"Turnell's Flying Horses II," watercolor, 19 in. x 24 in.

1930s, was drawn to the vibrant culture and scenery. She would return many times over the years to paint the Island's landscapes and people. Her work, which often depicted Black life and culture, earned her a reputation as one of the most important African American artists of the 20th century.

Crite, who was born and raised in Boston, began visiting in the 1940s. Like Jones, he was drawn to the Island's beauty and began to paint scenes of everyday life on the Island. A noted Black liturgical artist, his work often depicted Black people and communities, and he became known for his ability to capture the dignity and humanity of his subjects. He was honored by the Martha’s Vineyard African American Heritage Trail in 2018 when Grace Church, where a vibrant mural painted by Crite resides, became site number 28 on the trail.

One of the most notable figures in the history of Black art on Martha's Vineyard is Dorothy West. West was a writer and journalist who lived on the Island for many years. She was a member of the Harlem Renaissance and wrote several novels, including "The Living is Easy" and "The Wedding." West's work explored the experiences of African Americans in the early 20th century and helped to shape the literary landscape of the Island.

Today, Black art on Martha's Vineyard continues to thrive at what can be considered a record pace, and the same can be said about the explosion of Black art around the country. Much of this can be attributed to the impact that current social issues have had on how Black artists are showcased and sought after in today’s art environment. Ann Smith, executive director of Featherstone Center for the Arts, says, “Following the death of George Floyd and Black Lives Matter protests, in an attempt to exemplify inclusivity, social justice, and equity, cultural institutions, art galleries, and exhibit spaces across the globe are seeking to amplify the voices of historically underrepresented artists. Whether genuinely and authentically, there is an increased awareness and interest in Black art.”

Local art collector Sandy Grymes, board member of the Studio Museum in Harlem — one of the most renowned centers for

Black art in the country — is involved in art matters around the world. “At the moment, we are in an inclusion and equity phase in the art world,” Grymes says. “Fortunately, the door has opened at a moment when we have a cadre of experienced curators, museum professionals, and established artists able to step up, show work, and lead major arts institutions across the world.”

But to be certain, the talent and unique perspective that Black artists depict in their work stands on its own. That Black art is more accessible to the world and therefore now appreciated is a testament to new

visibility that has developed in the past few years. This led to record-setting prices for Black art at major auction houses. While perhaps at one time only, celebrated Black artist Jean-Michel Basquiat’s work sold at prices in the millions, now other Black artists such as Jacob Lawrence, Norman Lewis, Romare Bearden, Amy Sherald, and Kerry James Marshall’s paintings have sold in the same price range.

The Island is home to several galleries and art centers that showcase and sell the work of Black artists and, while the number continues to grow, more can be

ADANA TILLMAN

"Mekia and Baron," cotton, thread, beads, 48 in. x 48 in.

done. Valerie Francis, owner of Knowhere Gallery and Center of Knowhere Gallery, both in Oak Bluffs, shares, “Ralph and I launched Knowhere art gallery to change the world through art (as stated in our mission). The gallery is now five years old and since its inception we have expanded visibility and access to a more diverse group of artists. Inclusively, we are elevating African Americans, and artists from other backgrounds so as to reflect the diverse community which exists on and off the Island. The embrace we have received and appreciation expressed from visitors

of the gallery spaces affirms that we are making a significant difference.”

One such artist is Atlanta-based Charly Palmer, whose solo exhibits were highly successful at the gallery. Palmer’s work is in private and public collections, which include JP Morgan Chase, Microsoft, and Atlanta Life Insurance.

One of the longest-running art galleries on the Island is Cousen Rose Gallery. Owned and operated by Zita Cousens, the gallery opened in 1980. It is famous as a unique summer gathering place where art lovers come together to view the very

diverse collection of artists such as Glenn Tunstull, Ekua Holmes, and Joseph Holston that can be found within the quaint gingerbread-style gallery in Oak Bluffs. The artists’ opening receptions and book signings for local authors draw crowds comprised of collectors and others who may be introduced to an artist for the first time. Last year, the Martha’s Vineyard Museum acquired one of Tunstull’s oil paintings.

“As more people actually view Black art, the exposure has created more interest and, inevitably, more investing,” Cousens says. “This is not only true on the Island, but nationwide as well. Viewers have to be exposed to Black art to even consider making an investment. There was a lack of exposure in the past…As consumers become more knowledgeable about art, the interest in investing in art increases.”

Adrienne Childs, an independent scholar and art historian, is the adjunct curator at the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. She spends her summers on Martha’s Vineyard and was the curator for a wonderful exhibit last summer at Featherstone titled “Imagine: Celebrating Black Female Creativity.” According to Ann Smith, this exhibit was one of the best attended shows that also resulted in one of the highest sales records for Featherstone.

“I was shocked and astonished at how successful the exhibit turned out to be…Many said that they were moved by the work and loved the focus on Black women,” Childs says. “For those who visited, they were uplifted by the breadth of styles, skills, and imagery assembled in the show. There seemed to be a great demand for the art because the viewership was a record high for the gallery. Most of the works sold — and that was great for me, as well as the artists and the gallery.

“As more people actually view Black art, the exposure has created more interest and, inevitably, more investing. This is not only true on the Island, but nationwide as well.

—Gallery owner Zita Cousens

GLENN TUNSTULL

HARRY SEYMOUR

"Vineyard Haven Sunrise," oil, 18 in. x 36 in.

"Critical Race," mixed media, 16 in. x 20 in.

To know that people are going to live with the art and it will continue to impact them and their families is a wonderful thing. It’s how we grow the field and sow the love!”

I had the great honor of having several of my photographs (which also sold) included in the show, and I share Adrienne’s sentiment about the long-lasting effect of someone owning a piece of my art and enjoying it on the walls of their home.

In addition to galleries and special exhibitions that can be visited throughout the year on the Island, many outstanding artists own and manage their own space to

create and sell their art. One of the best known such artists is Harry Seymour. While he gained his footing in the local art scene at galleries such as Dragonfly, Carol Craven Gallery, and El-legance, he eventually decided to set up space in his home to create and show his art. Nestled in a lovely neighborhood in Oak Bluffs, byappointment-only visitors can tour Harry’s unique collection of paintings. He often marries his visual art with his poetry, using lyrical words and moving images to share messages on love, loss, and social justice.

Michael Johnson is another artist who

owns and manages his own art for show and sale in Vineyard Haven. His photographs hold an iconic place with anyone familiar with Martha’s Vineyard, particularly his image of the Polar Bears donning swim caps and joining in a circle in the waters off Inkwell Beach in the early morning hours. That image also holds a special place in the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture exhibit about Martha’s Vineyard.

There isn’t enough space to highlight all aspects of Black art that are burgeoning on the Island, or the number of venues where

"Esther, Runaway Slave," scratchboard/mixed media, 12 in. x 16 in.

HARRY SEYMOUR

the art can be viewed and purchased. The Martha’s Vineyard Museum has become a key player in showcasing beautiful historic and contemporary Black art. It was in their former venue in Edgartown that I first enjoyed an exhibit of Lois Mailou Jones’ work. In that space the work was almost hidden, but now with the expansive exhibit space in the museum’s Vineyard Haven location, all art exhibitions enjoy open air and space for viewing. In 2021 the museum offered “Work of the Soul,” featuring Lois Mailou Jones, Meta Warrick Fuller, Delilah Pierce, and Olive (Cutie) Bowles.

Other art venues such as Chris Morse’s Granary Gallery, Eisenhauer Gallery, and Louisa Gould Gallery, to name a few, have selectively curated artwork from wellknown Black artists including Elizabeth Catlett, Janice Frame, a long-time Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School teacher, and Martha Mae Jones.

When I began research for this article my point was to answer the question “What is the state of Black art on Mar tha's Vineyard?” Having done the research and obtained input and feedback from key players in our community, I am

struck with another thought. The early artists on our Island such as Dorothy West and Lois Mailou Jones, as well as the actors and writers who frequented Shearer Cottage, were members of the Harlem Renaissance. The Harlem Renaissance was viewed as a point in time in Harlem tied to the great migration, when Blacks from the south migrated north and Harlem was one of the stop-off places. And it was there that a community was born that nurtured artists as they supported one another and grew their craft.

When I look at what's happening on the Island, and in speaking to the people who have helped contribute content to this article, I'm wondering if there isn't another renaissance that is taking place that perhaps is the Martha's Vineyard Renaissance. It isn't that the art community is new; we have been doing this for a very long time. But certainly the number of players, the level of expertise, the key powerful roles that many hold both on the Island and around the country in the art world, the number of dollars that are now being invested in the purchase of Black art, all point to a supposition that we are creating the history of the future.

I doubt the artists, writers, and collectors during the Harlem Renaissance era thought they were leaving a legacy that we would forever refer to as the Harlem Renaissance. Just as I don't think all of us who are in the art world in one capacity or another on the Island today view what we're doing is the creation of a new movement. Time will tell. But I think others will look back at this point in time, look at the legacy and growth of Black art and artists, galleries, curators, and collectors and say that in the 2020s Martha's Vineyard became a mecca for Black art.

If there is one absolute challenge for this growth to successfully continue it is best stated by Ann Smith: “The challenge is to stay relevant and fresh and true to your own voice and community.”

Jennifer Smith Turner is a poet, novelist, and photographer as well as a member of the self-proclaimed Martha’s Vineyard Renaissance.

"To know that people are going to live with the art and it will continue to impact them and their families is a wonderful thing. It’s how we grow the field and sow the love!”

–Adrienne Childs

Handmade paper collage.

"Defiant Alliance," scratchboard/mixed media, 16 in. x 20 in.

HARRY SEYMOUR

PATRICIA LITTLEFIELD

Angry music with a purpose

Where has all the outrage gone? Long time ago.

By Ray Whitaker

You say you want a revolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

You tell me that it's evolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

But when you talk about destruction

Don't you know that you can count me out

(The Beatles’ “Revolution” from 1968)

It’d be easy to say that “protest music” began in the 1960s. It would also be convenient to cite the Vietnam War as the muse for many an artist who began to see and understand what was wrong with the United States’ involvement in the ongoing war in Southeast Asia.

But ease and convenience have no basis in reality. If you Google the history of protest music you might be shocked to know that something as seemingly harmless and beautiful as Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” (written as a poem by Friedrich Schiller in the summer of 1785) was a celebration of the brotherhood of man, and considered one of the very first sonic expressions of hope. John Lennon even referenced it in his anthemic “Imagine.” And there are other examples of pre-20th century songs of hope and purpose. But we’re going to look deep into the last centennial for the songs, not movements, that either poetically or blatantly called out an injustice or some cultural or interpersonal aberration.

The impetus for a piece like this one was the realization that songs of protest, as they once were, pretty much ring hollow these days. Maybe artists who decide to take up the mantle of some cause or moment of outrage (like the George Floyd incident or some other mind-f**king behavior by authorities) seem a bit too detached from the actual abuse of power. There’s no discernible feeling or connection to the subject matter being sung about that we can actually grasp. Call it cynicism, or maybe call it some old guy pining for the days of pot, patchouli, and passionate pop tuneage behind a message of outrage.

But there has to be something to the music of old if

the young ‘uns of today are attaching themselves to it. Just the other day, I heard some present-day pop princess duetting with Elton John on his 1971 song “Tiny Dancer.” Ok, not a protest song. But it does speak to the reality that a good song is a good song. It transcends time and trends.

And don’t even get me started about The Beatles. Talk about music that atomizes the confines of time and era. But we’ll get to them later on.

When deciding to write about defining protest songs, initially I wanted to avoid the obvious ones that have been held up on high for decades. You know the ones — where the impact of their initial message just seems like mere pageantry at this point. A great example of that is “We Shall Overcome.”

Incarnated from a 1901 hymn entitled "I'll Overcome Some Day," it was used formally, for the first time, as a protest song during a labor strike against American Tobacco in Charleston, S.C., during the 1940s. African American women rallied for a pay raise to .30 cents an hour, all the while singing “We Will Overcome.” Then in 1952 it was recorded by Laura Duncan as “We Shall Overcome.” It was then adopted as the hopeful call to action hymn for the Civil Rights Movement.

But if you truly want to find just one song that embodies the reason for discernible and actionable advancement for Civil Rights, it’s “Strange Fruit.” Originally written as “Bitter Fruit” — an anti-lynching protest poem, and then a song — by Abel Meeropol in 1937, it became the signature song for one of the most pained, emotive singers of all time, Billie Holiday.

Southern trees bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees…

We’ve all seen those reprehensible pictures of beaten and burned Black folks hanging from branches back in the earlier part of the 20th century. It’s almost incomprehensible, but it happened. We needed to know and understand that it happened. “Whitewashing” (pardon the expression) will do nothing to advance the recognition that Blacks and whites are exactly the same. Showing the pictures, reading the descriptions of the bodily desecration, and listening to a song like “Strange Fruit” — considered the first widely disseminated protest song — drives the point home much more than hopeful hymns of societal and psychological deliverance.

Of course, we could go back even further and include the songs and hymns that slaves would sing while literally in the midst of their servitude. A good lot of the tunes being sung were communication vehicles — calls to action, really. It’s been rumored that for the chief engineer on the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman, her favorite signaling tune was “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”

Whenever that tune was sung, it was allegedly a two-minute warning to let everyone within earshot know that the time to escape was at hand and to get ready for the journey.

And I suppose you could include spirituals in the protest song category. But, as most tunes of protest are about some past or present injustice — be it racial or sexual discrimination, unfair labor practices or something else — the writing of the tune and singing is done in relative safety, far away from the actual danger. Traditional protest songs are more observational. What the slaves were singing about was in real time. Their safety (and that of their kin) literally hung in the balance from the moment they woke up until they went to sleep. They were actually living a crime against humanity. So these devotional odes were akin to morse code. Their very lives depended on understanding what was being sung, and when to engage their plan of escape.

So spirituals deserve a very honorable mention here. But they don’t necessarily qualify as the traditional, disassociative “Isn’t that a shame and we should do something about it” protest song.

Then we had the war in Vietnam. This is where the rubber really hit the road when it came to expressing dissent in songs you couldn’t exactly dance to. Just about every genre of pop music addressed the United States’ involvement in the Vietnam War. But if you wanted to identify the very first song to express discountenance with our so-called “aid to anti-communist forces” in Southeast Asia, it would have to be Phil Ochs’ “Talking Vietnam Blues” in 1964 (some might argue it was “What Are You Fighting For,” a song he recorded a year earlier. But “Talking Vietnam Blues” was unequivocal in its condemnation). It’s almost a remonstrative chronology of our entanglement over there up to that point, as well as a general scoffing at the verbiage used by the government to mollify the American public about the goings-on in the country.

Then you had other folk luminaries of the era — Baez, Seeger, Guthrie — taking up the mantle and trying to take it a notch further. But, like so often happens, the message gets either watered down or lost in unintelligible ramblings or vocal histrionics.

Surprisingly, Bob Dylan really wasn’t a part of that crowd. He even liked to say he “didn’t write no protest songs,” which is true. Even “Only a Pawn in the Game,” about Medgar Evers, and “Hurricane” — the 8:33 opus detailing the railroading of boxer Rubin Carter — were more laments than dissents.

And then there was a tune that essentially acted as a bridge from the hyper-austerity of the folk world’s objections to the Vietnam War, to the rock and soul arenas: Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction.”

What makes “Eve of Destruction'' so worthy of being mentioned in the same piece as “Strange Fruit” is its bluntness.

But if you truly want to find just one song that embodies the reason for discernible and actionable advancement for Civil Rights, it’s “Strange Fruit.”

Just :20 seconds into the song, songwriter P.F. Sloan pulled absolutely no punches when it came to calling out the government on its constitutional hypocrisy by reminding everyone who was 17 years old and able to enlist in all branches of the military, that they were “old enough to kill, but not for votin’.” At the time the song was released in 1965, the voting age was 21. It wouldn’t be for another six years until President Nixon signed the 26th Amendment into law, lowering the voting age from 21 to 18. Still, the sentiment of the lyrics remained the same.

The other line that really drove home the point of much of the citizenry’s moral duplicity at the time was “Hate your next door neighbor, but don't forget to say grace." That lyric in particular illuminated the whole “do as I say, not as I do” mentality of a lot of American families back then. Looking deeper into situations like Vietnam, Civil Rights, and the spiritual health of our religious institutions wasn’t a real consideration for much of our population. Folks didn’t want to hear the kind of truths being sung about from a newcomer like Barry McGuire. In fact, because of its so-called controversial lyrics, some American radio stations claimed it was, here again, essentially an aid to the North Vietnamese and banned the song. That’s when you know a nerve has been hit.

It would be another four years until a song with the appropriate measure of anger would address the war in Southeast Asia. John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival penned a tune that spoke to the class disparity when it came to who got drafted or enlisted and went off to actually fight that war, and who did the same and actually didn’t. If you look at statistics of who made up the boots-on-the-ground troops in Vietnam, they mostly came from poor-to-middle class families — the ones who kept, and still keep, the infrastructure of this country humming. Once you start to climb into the ether of wealth and privilege (and subsequently influence), the military-aged sons and daughters of the Masters of Industry and influential politicians at the time could be stationed way out of harm’s way. Still, they can say they served during Vietnam, which sure looked impressive on a resume.

The prevailing tone of “Fortunate Son” is rage — THAT is what makes a protest song truly impactful. Calling out those in the entrenched power structure for their faux-patriotism, their standards of the double variety, their ambivalence, and their Teflon attitude is essentially the playbook of any song whose purpose is to wake up the body politic.

But wait — where are The Beatles in all this? Well, let’s back up a year to 1968 and take a look at their tune “Revolution.” The White Album version of that song, “Revolution 1,” was just way too mellow, coupled with the fact that Paul McCartney didn’t want to invite controversy — something John Lennon was not only used to, but flirted with quite often. But John wanted “Revolution” to be the band’s next single regardless. So they

re-recorded it with distorted guitars and a whole lot of angry vocals from Lennon. While it’s technically a protest tune and demonstrates upset toward “the institution,” “Revolution” is really more of John Lennon’s amazing wordplay on top of some raucous rock music. It wasn’t specific, it didn’t point fingers, and it neglected to make us feel pissed off. If there was any sort of “governor” on this track that essentially bridled John’s fury, it was Paul McCartney. He was hyper aware of how the world held The Beatles up in the rarefied air, and he didn’t want that put in jeopardy.

That said, John Lennon DID immerse himself in songs of directed indignation during the early years of his solo career. From the “Imagine” album, “Gimme Some Truth” is yet another example of his angry poetry. Only this time he calls out the many toadies of then President Nixon:

No short-haired, yellow-bellied, son of tricky Dicky Is gonna mother hubbard soft soap me

With just a pocketful of soap

Money for dope

Money for rope

Vietnam, Anti-Vietnam War Protestors, the beginning of the war on drugs, demonizing those who used marijuana, who just so happened to be Nixon’s biggest detractors — the protestors, Black folks, academics.

“Gimme Some Truth” was unapologetically angry and named Dick Nixon. Check.

Now, you might be wondering where the pro-woman anthems are. No “I Am Woman?” No “I Will Survive?” Well, Helen and Gloria, I respectfully submit the following for your consideration… There’s a song that was originally recorded by a group called The Persuaders back in the early 70s called “Thin Line Between

Love and Hate.” Written by Richard and Robert Poindexter, as well as Jackie Members, it’s a tune that you wouldn’t think would fit into an article like this one, but au contraire.

While The Persuaders’ original version is soulful and beautiful, it just doesn’t capture the necessary anger that the lyrics dictate. Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders resurrected it for their album “Learning to Crawl” from 1984. It was a respectful cover of the original version. But it wasn’t until 11 years later when Annie Lennox made it seethe with appropriate red-hot rage on her album “Medusa,” that the song became an anthem for disregarded and abused women everywhere.

It’s about a man coming home early in the morning just one too many times to his infinitely patient wife. She’s sweet, understanding, and dutiful to a thoughtless, obviously cheating husband. All is seemingly copacetic until the instrumental bridge of the song. He then finds himself lying in a hospital, “bandaged from foot to head.”

The song begins with what can only be described as a simmer, water beginning to boil on a stove. During the bridge it begins to boil, and you can literally “see” what she’s doing to this heartless man she calls her husband.

Consider

lyrics:

Too violent? Well, when you consider what way too many women have been through at the hands of men for time ad infinitum, a 4:53 narrative of necessary comeuppance is nothing in the scheme of it all. If nothing else, this very pro-woman empowerment tune should serve as a possible failsafe if someone finds themselves in an abusive, even life-threatening relationship with a man.

The coda to the song showcases Annie Lennox just repeatedly, painfully bellowing “Come on Baby Baby, you don’t give a damn about me…”

Anger. Again, that is what makes a song of protest powerful. It also has to be specific — brutally honest and not long-winded. If it just so happens to be catchy, all the better. The majority of the so-called anthems of the past 60-plus years — whether it’s been for civil rights, anti war, pro woman, gay rights, anti-gun — just don’t pack the necessary punch that songs like the ones I listed here do. Yes, Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come,” John Lennon’s “Imagine” and “Give Peace a Chance,” and “Freedom” from Richie Havens are all powerful and beautiful. But they just don’t instill indignation, rage, empowerment, or a call to action.

Dancing around a subject or equivocating for the sake of not offending the oversensitive will never affect positive, effective change. As George Carlin once reminded, “they’re just words.” Juxtaposed with genuine, applicable fury, that’s when a protest song might actually get folks to engage the cause in question.

As for songs from the 21st century that attempt to address our prevailing issues, as previously alluded to, it’s social media oversaturation, too much sheen, and not even a CliffNotes understanding of the severity of the problem at hand by the songwriter or artist involved that render them asystolic. Which is why we’re hearing newer, more flaccid versions of older tunes — anthemic or not. Again, there’s a tragic disconnect.

But going back to “Strange Fruit.” You might argue that Billie Holiday’s tragically appropriate rendering wasn’t exactly angry sounding. But there was a tangible mourning in her voice — a knowing devastation. It’s practically a funeral dirge. Couple that with the visuals she was singing of, and it just couldn’t be any more powerful.

Ray Whitaker is a contributing writer to The Martha's Vineyard Times. He has been in broadcasting for more than 30 years, many of them at MVYRadio. Since 2008 he's written, recorded, and produced specialty programs about The Beatles ("Just Four Guys"), as well as one about mental health and The Human Condition called "The Unemployable Man." He's presently affiliated with the California-based mellowrock.com.

Anger. Again, that is what makes a song of protest powerful. It also has to be specific — brutally honest and not long-winded.

The way of wampum

Donald Widdiss and Frank Rapoza

turn quahog shells into illustrations of history and creativity.

By Lucas Thors

Photos

by Robyn Twomey

A wampum moon sets over pristine white cliffs in this swordfish bill mosaic made by Frank Rapoza.

The pure white and deep purple hues of the quahog shell found in Martha’s Vineyard waters have been used in crafting for many thousands of years — the ancient practice continues today, as the descendants of the Island’s first inhabitants adopt their own interpretation of wampum.

There are also many non-native Island folks who are working with quahog shell and developing their individual relationship with the medium.

Arts & Ideas visited Donald Widdiss and Frank Rapoza at a tucked-away shop

in West Tisbury that the two often share to discuss their distinctive takes on working with quahog shells. Upon arriving, Widdiss and Rapoza were busy using the diamond grinder and shell snips to shape beads for Widdiss’ jewelry and tesserae for Rapoza’s mosaics. Widdiss took the snips, which looked like a small pair of sharp pliers, and methodically chipped away at a piece of quahog shell until a rectangular box began to take shape. He then placed the unfinished piece in front of a wheel with abrasive diamond shards and began to press gingerly. The two were willing to share their stories and insights on their unique crafts.

“I started working with shell back in the early 90s. I had a Native American art gallery in Oak Bluffs — we would mostly have Algonquin and Iroquois artists,” Widdiss said.

Widdiss, a Wampanoag Tribe of Gay Head elder, went to the Massachusetts College of Art in 1966 to study art illustration and graphic design, and eventually started making his own screen prints. He got married, had a child, and eventually ended up working in an administrative position for the Wampanoag Tribe of Gay Head (Aquinnah).

“That was a 180-degree turn from my

Frank Rapoza, left, and Donald Widdiss are two prominent craftspeople on the Island who use wampum (quahog shell) as their medium.

background,” Widdiss laughed, “but it had to get done. In the meantime, the tribe was dealing with issues of Native American Sovereignty, land rights, jurisdictional issues and such.”

In the 70s, the shell fishing industry was booming on the Vineyard, and Widdiss enjoyed going out on his boat to get quahogs. He saw that a number of local people were already working with the shell — Kate Taylor, Joan Le Lacheur, and others — and took it upon himself to develop his own style.

“I didn’t apprentice with anyone; I didn’t want to know how anyone else was doing it. I wanted to make it my own,” Widdiss said.

The first thing Widdiss began making was wampum bracelets, often giving them away to tribal elders and old friends, or trading them for more quahog shell. Eventually, folks in the tribal community began requesting the tubular beads that the word wampum specifically refers to.

(Wampum originally comes from the word “wampumpeag,” with “wampum” meaning white shell that’s drilled, and “peag” meaning purple.)

“I got a diamond drill, and began working in this style that is distinctive and beautiful, but it also gets you talking about what the beads are, and what the historical importance is,” Widdiss said. “It’s a very

specific meaning, but the term has become generic, and to the general public, it refers to some kind of jewelry or craft made out of quahog shell.”

In Wampanoag culture, wampum was (and in many cases still is) used for decoration or personal adornment, and was historically worn to denote status. Wampum was given as a sign of respect, a dowry, or woven into a belt to be used as a pneumonic device.

“Contracts and treaties were contained in the early wampum belts,” Widdiss said. “One of the earliest belts was an attempt to explain the relationship between natives and settlers. You have the Indigenous people and the Europeans on parallel paths, but never touching. But that’s not the way it worked out.”

Over the years, Widdiss said he has seen some people (including non-native crafters) honor and respect wampum by learning about its history and not trying to over-monetize and cheapen the craft.

“There are craftspeople, there are

artists, and there are opportunists. You can argue who falls into each one of those categories,” Widdiss said. “In my mind, if you don’t take the time to understand what a piece is, then it’s just a bauble.”

For Widdiss, working with wampum allows him to connect to his culture, history, and home, just as his mother did when working with the multicolored pastel clay of the Gay Head Cliffs.

“When she would lay that clay out on the table to make pottery when I was a boy, she would tell me that it makes her feel at home,” Widdiss said.

Frank Rapoza offers another take on working with quahog shell. Right out of high school, he apprenticed as a boat builder for the Concordia Company, a yacht boatyard in his hometown of South Dartmouth. Afterward, Rapoza moved to Mystic Seaport to become a shipwright, working on large vessels like the Shenandoah.

Rapoza became inspired to create complex wampum mosaic tiles around 20 years

“ One of the earliest belts was an attempt to explain the relationship between natives and settlers. You have the Indigenous people and the Europeans on parallel paths, but never touching. But that’s not the way it worked out.”

-Donald Widdiss

Pieces cut from the quahog shell before shaping them into wampum.

Donald Widdiss displays one of his wampum bracelets that he says are his bread and butter.

ago while living aboard a boat off Cuttyhunk. A caretaker on Nashawena Island, Manny Sarmento, was known for making a number of religious wampum mosaics for the Cuttyhunk Church. Rapoza decided to try it out. He didn’t ask anyone for help or advice — he purchased bushels of quahog shells and taught himself.

“At that point, I was making what some people call art. I don’t call it art, I call it wampum mosaics,” Rapoza said. “The

general public can decide whether what someone does is art or not.”

Over the years, Rapoza said he has made around 75 mosaics. He uses small pieces of quahog shell, crushed shell, abalone, semi-precious stones, and other materials arranged precisely to paint stunningly complex pictures. The first couple of panels Rapoza crafted allowed him to formulate his style and determine refinements.

“Right at the start, the mosaics didn’t have any rhyme or reason. They were all jagged and not flush at all. Now, I really have it down, and can do a sketch or have an image in my head of what I want a piece to look like in the end,” Rapoza said.

Rapoza’s first couple pieces took him forever. He would buy large amounts of quahog shell from a commercial fishing fleet in New Jersey so that he didn’t have to worry about running out. “I knew I was going to waste a lot of shells and a lot of time kind of learning and figuring out my process, so I would just buy a ton of them,” Rapoza said.

Rapoza walked over to a table that contained a number of mosaics. He pointed to one simpler design using only purple and white quahog shell.

“That was my first mosaic,” he laughed. “Looking back, it’s almost embarrassing. But my first show that I had, all my stuff sold, so I guess people liked it.”

Eventually, Rapoza started implementing other elements into his mosaics. He began crushing his leftover shell shards, running the dust through a screen, and mixing it with epoxy so he could paint with it. He also began inlaying swordfish bills with shell — a particularly unique craft that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else.

Nowadays, Rapoza’s work is almost entirely on a commission basis. People see his custom mosaics or inlayed swordfish bills and want to have one to commemorate a special event or honor a loved one.

“This one guy commissioned me to do

“At that point, I was making what some people call art. I don’t call it art, I call it wampum mosaics. The general public can decide whether what someone does is art or not. ”

–Frank Rapoza

Donald Widdiss wearing one of his wampum bracelets.

Finished works of Donald Widdiss

two swordfish bills for his sons,” Rapoza said. “He had seen a previous piece of mine that depicted a moon rising over the cliffs and wanted me to do the exact same scene, except each of the two moons were the phase of each of his son’s birthdays. I was really proud to do that.”

Another unique quality of Rapoza’s mosaics are his ebony wood frames. The deep, dark, and hard ebony wood for the frames comes from the shipwreck of the schooner Dolphin, which struck the

rocks off Cuttyhunk in 1854 on its way to Boston with a cargo of ebony logs. The logs were to be used to make parts for musical instruments, such as piano keys and windpipes for bagpipes.

“I think that’s a pretty cool aspect of what I do. You can’t really find wood like this anywhere else,” Rapoza said.

Although Rapoza doesn’t think he would ever take on an apprentice, he said he would like to see someone else start making similar mosaics, and witness another

fresh interpretation of the craft.

“I don’t want anyone looking over my shoulder while I’m working, and it’s tough to teach people this stuff,” Rapoza said. “But I would like to see another concept of this really unique thing.”

The work of Donald Widdiss and Frank Rapoza will be exhibited at a show at the Farm Neck Golf Club on Monday, August 21, from 4 to 7 pm.

Lucas Thors is a writer, poet, and Islander with a passion for his hometown. He is currently a reporter and associate editor at Bluedot Living.

"I didn’t apprentice with anyone; I didn’t want to know how anyone else was doing it. I wanted to make it my own.” –Donald

Widdiss

1. A tiny wampum bead crafted by Donald Widdiss.

2. A small, unworked wampum bead that will eventually be drilled and used for a necklace.

3. Frank Rapoza laying quahog shell pieces into his mosaic, the base of which is a swordfish bill.

4. Donald Widdiss cuts a piece of the quahog shell; the first step in crafting his wampum jewelry.

5. Donald Widdiss shapes a wampum bead from the quahog shell.

Human rights activist and poet Rose Styron has lived a life, as they say. A founding member of Amnesty International USA, Rose was also one of the first women to become a member of the Council on Foreign Relations. Married for more than fifty years, until his death in 2006, to Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award-winning novelist William Styron, she is the mother of Susanna, Paola (Polly), Tommy, and Alexandra (Al); grandmother to Tavish, Emma, Lilah, Lulu, Tommy, Gus, Huck, and Martha; and the friend of — well, here’s where I run into a space crunch. Rose’s friends include novelists, playwrights, poets, journalists, actors, crooners, and a bevy of other creators. They include U.S. presidents and politicians from abroad. They include human rights activists and jailed dissidents. They included my parents, Jules and Judy Feiffer, and I’m delighted to say they also include me.

At the age of 95, Rose Styron published a memoir. In “Beyond This Harbor: Adventurous Tales of The Heart” (Alfred A. Knopf), Rose tells the story of a remarkable life built around activism, literary happenings, and family, and the convergence of the three — which often happened on the front lawn of Styron’s Vineyard Haven home.

But how did the Styrons end up on the Vineyard, in their house overlooking Vineyard Haven Harbor? Read on to find out. MV Arts & Ideas is grateful to Rose for allowing us to publish this excerpt from her memoir. -Kate

Feiffer

A few years after our wedding, Bill and I and little Susanna visited Michael Carlisle and his Coffin grandmother on Nantucket. Bill’s editor Hiram Haydn called to say we should take the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard and visit him and his wife, Mary. We agreed to meet at the Vineyard Haven dock. When we arrived on the agreed-on afternoon, there was no Hiram. He’d forgotten our plan. As we stood puzzling, a blonde angry woman swooped past us, chasing the biggest black poodle I’d ever seen. “Gregory Zilborg!” she kept shouting. “Come back here!” In vain. She then spotted an older man (Harry

Levin, head of Russian studies at Harvard) on a wobbly bicycle heading down the street. “Harry! Go get Gregory!” the woman shouted, and he dutifully turned in chase.

The woman suddenly turned and spotted us, and we recognized each other. “What are you doing here?” she asked. It was Lillian Hellman, whom we had met at our wedding reception in Parioli. Hearing our plight, she insisted we come to her house, a short walk up the beach, and call Hiram from there.

Through the garden and onto a porch we trooped with Lil, followed by the large, breathless Gregory Zilborg (named for her psychiatrist). Dashiell Hammett was sitting in a rocker and he lifted Susanna onto his lap. By the time the Haydns arrived, we’d had tea and cookies and Lil had persuaded us “not to go to that vile island Nantucket ever again.” She instructed us to book two weeks the next summer at an old white-shingled house near hers, and we did. From 1960 until 1963, we Styrons rented for a summer month on Martha’s Vineyard—on the way to West Chop, in Katama (next to Walter Cronkite, whom we did not know then), and in Vineyard Haven. Vineyard Haven was our favorite spot, even though we were teased about being centered on Murderers’ Row, as the strip of Vineyard Sound land was known, where Lillian Hellman, Philip Rahv, Mary McCarthy, John Hersey, and Diana and Lionel Trilling spent social but often spiteful summers.

Around Labor Day 1963, after sending our three kids home to Connecticut with Bill while I closed down the house we had rented from the Philip Rahvs, I walked to town. My mission was to go to Carly Cronig’s real estate office to rent for the next summer. I arrived five or ten minutes before six o’clock closing time. The phone rang as I stood before Carly’s desk. He answered it, saying, “Oh, Mrs. Eels, I’m so sorry. Your husband died this morning? Of course you want to go back to Cleveland right away. Yes, I’ll be glad to see to it for you, yes, completely

Buying the Vineyard House

An excerpt from ‘Beyond This Harbor: Adventurous Tales of the Heart’

By Rose Styron

furnished,” or words to that effect.

Bill and I had never thought of buying a summer place on the Vineyard, but I heard myself say brightly, “Mr. Cronig, what will the price of the house be?” He replied on the spot: “Seventy-five thousand dollars.” Bill and I didn’t have that much in the bank, but I knew his new novel would be ready soon, and I decided I could call my mother in Baltimore and my brother in Bethesda to see if they would put the amount in the Styron account, to be reimbursed within a year or so. I told Carly we wanted to buy it, immediately! I had not consulted Bill. Carly replied, “If you can have the check ready at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, it’s yours.”

By 10:30 p.m., I was squared away with Bill and with my family. I reported to Carly, who reported to Agnes Eels, and I prepared a check—thrilled.

But at 8:00 a.m. the next day I received a phone call from the real estate broker, saying, “Oh, Mrs. Styron, I’m so sorry you didn’t get the house. My other client will pay twice as much, and of course, I have to get that for Mrs. Eels.”

Confused and saddened, I hung up. I called Agnes Eels to, again, express my condolences about her husband. And to say how sorry I was not to get the house. Silence for a moment on the other end. Then: “What do you mean you didn’t get it? We agreed last night!” Then, “This isn’t Agnes, it’s her sister-in-law. You better get over here with your check right away. Agnes has gone to the hairdresser to look proper for you at 9:00 a.m. Hurry!”

I went, pronto, check in hand. Both Mrs. Eelses greeted me, put my check on the mantelpiece, gave me two hugs and a glass of tomato juice.

“I’m so glad to have someone with young children buy our house,” Agnes Eels began. “Three generations of us have been happy here. You probably don’t know it, but your daughter Susanna [eight then] tried to ride her bike across our narrow seawall and fell off, down into the sand. We rescued her and she and my granddaughter Marianne are now playmates at the Yacht Club.” I had apparently walked on the little beach past her property to the club almost daily with our three kids. I realized I’d never even seen this house I was buying: A row of trees blocked it from beach sighting, but the lawn before them was wide and inviting, as was the raspberry patch at the seawall’s edge. Those trees soon blew down, in Hurricane Bob, and our view from the slightly sloping old lawn to the Sound is endlessly life-enhancing.

At about 9:15 that morning, as we three women were sitting contentedly, Carly entered behind us and, seeing me, said, “Oh, Mrs. Styron, I’m so sorry you didn’t get the house.”

Agnes stood and said, “What do you mean, Carly? We settled this last night. Of course Mrs. Styron got the house.”

Carly dug in his heels and said, “But, Mrs. Eels, I’m your agent and I’ve got twice as much for you—$150,000.”

Agnes didn’t believe him and asked how he managed to up the price after 11:00 p.m. He explained that when he saw last summer that her husband was ill, and heard he was declining during the winter, he brought his client to look in the windows. And then they managed to get in through the back door.

Agnes was furious, and I watched as Carly continued talking, saying that his client insisted that he wanted to buy the property if it ever came up for sale. Carly had called him when Mr. Eels died.

“Get out, Carly! No commission for you. The house is Mrs. Styron’s,” Agnes shouted. Then we learned that Carly’s client had hired a private jet from Washington and was on his way to the island. Carly was frantic. Agnes instructed him to use the kitchen phone and call the man and tell him the deal was off.

Carly obeyed. We could hear him whining to his client’s wife in D.C. that the sale was off, and yes, he knew how angry her husband would be, and, okay, he’d go to the airport to meet him. Now!

And off he went. His client was so angry that he echoed, “No cut for you, Mr. Cronig,” and added, “I’ll sue her!” In those days Massachusetts was one of the few states where an owner could be sued for “wrongful sale.”

Agnes Eels then said to me, “I know you can’t afford it, but I’ll block him through every court. You’ll probably have to rent our house next summer.” And we did, acquiring it in 1965, after the three state courts he petitioned at $25,000 each (lawyers, paperwork filings, whatever) turned him down. The house was ours! 60th anniversary on the horizon.

From “Beyond This Harbor: Adventurous Tales of the Heart” © 2023 by Rose Styron. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

EXCERPT: ‘BEYOND THIS HARBOR’

By the time the Haydns arrived, we’d had tea and cookies and Lil had persuaded us “not to go to that vile island Nantucket ever again.”

Bill Styron with Lillian Hellman on the dock in Vineyard Haven.

COURTESY ROSE STYRON

In the moment

Sculptor Gwen Marcus captures one of life’s sweetest pleasures.

By Gwyn McAllister

Internationally acclaimed sculptor Gwen Marcus describes her limited edition bronze piece “Sunshine” as a tribute to one of life's moments. The 17- by 10by 17-inch sculpture depicts a woman in a simple shift dress seated on a chair, leaning her head back to soak up the warmth of a sunny day.

“You almost feel like she's capturing the rays in her face,” says Marcus, who always works with live models in her creations. The model she chose for this piece is one of her favorites.

“She's one of the most 'beautiful inside' people that I know,” Marcus says. In a statement about the awardwinning sculpture Marcus writes, “Sunshine captures a delicious moment.

A woman pauses in what she is doing, takes off her shoes, makes herself comfortable, and gives her entire self to the sun.

The viewer

feels the warmth, enjoys the moment themselves, and understands that this sculpture is about the joy of life and kindness to self.”

Marcus, who splits her time between New York City and Cape Cod, has won a multitude of awards. She has exhibited in dozens of museums and galleries and her work can be found in corporate and private collections around the world. She has created a number of large-scale pieces for public indoor and outdoor spaces. A few years back, Marcus was commissioned by The Actors' Fund of America to create an Annual Lifetime Achievement Award.

Marcus works with the lost wax casting process. Unlike many sculptors, she insists on being involved in every step of the process — from creating the clay model, to making the wax mold, to finishing off the bronze cast and overseeing the patina process. Of the latter she says, “There is layer upon layer of different chemicals that are applied. You have to get just the right amount of one versus another so that you get the right, subtle look. It adds a little bit of vibration that makes the piece come alive.”

Of “Sunshine,” which can be found at the Louisa Gould Gallery in Vineyard Haven, Marcus says, “I love this piece. It radiates positivity and freshness and experiencing something in the moment. You just tilt your head back and feel it. You just appreciate the day.”

“Sunshine,” 17- by 10- by 17-inch bronze sculpture.

“A woman pauses in what she is doing, takes off her shoes, makes herself comfortable, and gives her entire self to the sun.”

Gwen Marcus

Featherstone show highlighted Latinx illustrators

And guess what? Some of their books have been banned.

By Kate Feiffer

Asunny “Florida Welcomes

You” sign greets drivers on Route 95 after they cross over the St. Mary’s River. Thirty minutes on, they’ll pass the “Entering Duval County” sign and drive into one of the hotspots in

the culture war over book banning.

Duval County is home to Jacksonville and boasts the 20th largest school district in the country. (Florida also claims the fourth, sixth, seventh, ninth, and tenth largest school districts, which is of significance to those of us concerned about

Governor Ron DeSantis’ policies.) In the waning months of 2022, reports started leaking out that nearly 200 books, most of which were on a list of diverse and inclusive books that had been purchased by the school district in 2021, had been removed from Duval County schools.

"Puerto Ricans Danced in Puerto Rican Places," oil on paper, 15.5 in. x 21 in.

ERIC VELASQUEZ

One of those books was “Roberto Clemente: Pride of Pittsburgh Pirates” by Jonah Winter, with illustrations by Raúl Colón. Published more than 15 years ago, the 40-page picture book tells the inspirational, and ultimately tragic, story of Puerto Rican-born baseball Hall-of-Famer Roberto Clemente and his career, humility, humanity, and the airplane crash that ended his life while he was en route to Nicaragua to deliver supplies to earthquake victims. The book does not sugarcoat the poverty Clemente was born into, or the racist slights he encountered while playing for the Pirates, but the book is neither about nor focused on racism.

To explain what the racism Clemente endured looked like, Winter wrote: “As much as fans loved him, the newspaper writers did not. When Roberto was in such

pain he couldn't play, they called him ‘lazy.’ They mocked his Spanish accent, and when Roberto got angry, the mainly white newsmen called him a Latino ‘hothead.’”

When news broke that “Pride of Pittsburgh Pirates,” along with a picture book about MLB player Hank Aaron, was on a banned books list — Florida’s Department of Education euphemistically claimed the books were not banned, but rather “under review.” Sports enthusiasts called foul, and joined the usual suspects in the fight against censorship. The national news media jumped on the story.

The book’s award-winning illustrator

Raúl Colón, whose work has been described as “beautifully euphoric” in Kirkus Reviews, was part of a group show featuring and celebrating the work of acclaimed and award-winning Latinx children’s book illustrators at Featherstone Center for the Arts in July. Colón, who grew up in New York City and Puerto Rico, said that while he wasn’t particularly surprised to learn the Clemente and Aaron books had been banned, he suspects that the uproar in the media blindsided DeSantis, whose administration passed what has been described by the Southern Illinoisan as “the strictest book legislation in the nation” and as

“ I just do the work that I think I should do, and hope that other people feel that it is a book they can relate to — that makes them feel seen.”

–Juana Martinez-Neal

"We Are Stories, We Are Two Languages," archival pigment print, 14 in. x 22.5 in.

Yuyi Morales

From "Roberto Clemente: Pride of the Pittsburgh Pirates."

“educational gag orders” by PEN America.

“Little did he realize that the law is so broad that books about famous people could also be banned,” said Colón, “So when he saw the book about Clemente and also a book about Hank Aaron had been banned, I don’t think he was too happy about that.”

DeSantis did some backpedaling and in a press conference explained the ban on the Clemente book as “a joke.”

None of this, of course, is funny.

Colón pointed out that the majority of books that are being contested and removed from school libraries don’t generate this kind of publicity, and those are the stories that can all too easily disappear. “They will remain banned because they aren’t about someone well-known or they are fictional,” he said. And indeed, the books about Clemente and Aaron have been returned to the shelves of Duval County libraries. “You can’t ban Clemente and Hank Aaron,” said Colón.

While the show at Featherstone, which was curated by Richard Michelson of Northampton-based R. Michelson Galleries, was focused on the work of Latinx illustrators and not banned books, a number of the illustrators whose work was shown have had books that have been challenged by school districts around the country.

Another of those artists is Juana Martinez-Neal. Her 2019 Caldecott honor book — the Caldecott being the most prestigious prize in children’s book illustration — “Alma and How She Got her Name” is the story of a young girl named Alma Sofia Esperanza José Pura Candela whose father tells her the stories of all the relatives she is named after. It’s hard to fathom what

anyone could possibly object to in this delightfully engaging story that encourages children to ask about their own family histories. Yet this book was included on the PEN America list of books removed from Duval County school libraries.

“I wish I knew exactly why Alma is part of the list, and maybe I’m wrong, but the only reason I could possibly find is that she has a name that has Spanish names in it. But I don’t know,” Martinez-Neal said when reached by phone. “I just do the work that I think I should do, and hope that other people feel that it is a book they can relate to — that makes them feel seen.”

It should be noted that Florida is not

alone in efforts to limit the books that children have exposure to through their school libraries. There has been an enormous uptick in books under so-called review during the past year alone, and according to PEN America, most of them happen to have “themes centered on race, history, sexual orientation, and gender.”

This show at Featherstone was a follow-up of sorts. Two summers ago, Featherstone collaborated with R. Michelson Galleries for the first time and mounted a show of award-winning Black children’s book illustrators. “It was an incredible success,” said Ann Smith, executive director of Featherstone. “The show exposed our community to books and illustrators and subject matter that many people had not explored before.”

“Both shows were a rare opportunity to see an extraordinary exhibition of illustrators,” said Michelson. “They are among the most celebrated contemporary American artists, with the hope of showing the many varied facets of their work; some directly commenting on their heritage, and others just creating wonderful art.”

The show at Featherstone Center for the Arts included the work of Lauren Castillo, Joe Cepeda, Raul Colón, Mike Curato, David Diaz, Frank Espada, Juana Martinez-Neal, Yuyi Morales, Edel Rodriguez, and Eric Velasquez. If you weren’t able to get there, it will next be on exhibit at the R. Michelson Galleries in Northampton, Mass., from Nov. 12, 2023 into January 2024.

Kate Feiffer is the author of 11 books for children, a contributing editor for this magazine, and the event producer for Islanders Write.

RAÚL COLÓN

Richard Limber, next to his murals at the beginning of his driveway.

Why is Richard Limber so annoyed?

Politics, social

By Connie Berry

The first thing you notice — and the last thing you notice — at Richard Limber's home studio is that everything is covered in paint. Everything. Snow shovels leaning against a shed, a

couple of kayak paddles, a large rubber glove that at first glance looks like a hand reaching out of a giant planter, even a semi-phallicshaped piece of concrete that sits at the bottom of his rustic front steps is covered in paint. I ask what his plans are for a large

straw bag that’s sitting outside in the yard. “Oh that,” he says, “I picked it up on the side of the road and I haven’t quite decided what to do with it.”

You’ve likely driven by Limber’s home studio on Circuit Ave. in Oak Bluffs dozens of times. You can’t miss it. There’s always a banner out front, created in his unique style, hanging from a tree that at the very least piques your curiosity. Limber decided to keep his studio open to visitors on Sundays all summer this year, but if you’re interested, he’d have no problem showing you around another day.

The house itself is a canvas for Limber. (He moved it piece by piece from West Tisbury a while back.) I ask what’s covering the walls in what looks like a living room. “Plaster,” he says, “that's plaster with a little bit of wax and titanium. Pretty cool, huh?” His refrigerator is covered in magic marker drawings of creatures from his imagination and from friends and family. I almost want to ask if I can draw on it too. There are shelves made from all different shapes and sizes of wood, filled with jars, fishing line, packing tape, cheese graters, a juicer, and some shears. Even the bathroom isn’t off limits, with drawings on nearly every inch of cabinet space. Every door in the house invites you to open it just by its decorative front. Come in, they seem to say, we’ll show you something you haven’t seen before. “Is there a name for the piece that's on the inside of that closet door?” I ask. “We can make one up,” Limber says. “Woman in the Closet.”

These days, Limber is elbow deep into creating mostly portraits, and they are by no means ordinary. When the war in Ukraine broke out, he painted a young woman’s portrait from a photograph in the New York Times. He added mortars cascading down around her in a sketch, and she popped up all over the Island in poster form, reminding the entire community what was happening in Eastern Europe.

Most of his portraits these days have a point to make — the late Congressman John Lewis in an ink portrait, his face a roadmap of his life, a portrait of George Floyd that you can identify immediately. One of the newer ink images contains

ailments, and corporate greed aside, Limber’s art has substance.

"Faces," acrylic, ink, and print on paper.

DENA PORTER

RICHARD LIMBER

three portraits, one of them clearly Vincent van Gogh.

Limber says the Island art scene is too tame, not enough risk-taking. He explained that he did some research on the internet and found that one of the primary reasons people like to come to Martha’s Vineyard is because of security — it’s a relatively secure, safe place. “We’re a nostalgia-based art community here,” Limber explains, “so the art doesn’t upset the apple cart. It’s going to ride along with it. Because people come here out of insecurity, they don’t want to be confronted, but you have to push the envelope in some way to be creative.”

One of his good friends is artist and teacher Doug Ashford, who counted Hans Haacke as a mentor. Limber was around the scene in the 70s that produced conceptual art by some of the most well-known, Manhattan-connected artists. These folks were sitting around the table talking about

how art can be much more than something beautiful to look at. The influence of the experience can be seen in Limber’s work.

“This group did social and political work in the realm of museums, subway systems, and putting art wherever,” Limber says. “Art can not only be beautiful, but it can be put in places it’s never been seen before. I was on the periphery of that and I saw that and I think it deeply affected me … this idea that you can take stuff and put it out on the street … it can be more effective in that way.”

Limber created a huge George Floyd banner, and Eugene Langston Jemison used it in Black Lives Matter protests all over the Island. He almost always has a banner out in front of his driveway that includes renditions of everyone from Putin to John Lewis to Rupert Murdoch. Limber says the Vineyard seems ripe for pushing the creative envelope in the art community,

“Just a small push,” Limber smiles,

“you don’t really know how much you can push the envelope until you do it.”

Limber goes down a rabbit hole when he reflects on banned books and the politics of Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis juxtaposed the censoring of the Disney-owned film

“The French Connection.”

“Envelopes can go two different ways,” Limber says. “You have DeSantis going after Disney because they’re talking about trans kids and getting rid of discrimination. Then there was an article in the NY

“Libyan Rebel,” water soluble crayon on paper.

Limber's work raises our awareness of devastating world events.

“We’re a nostalgia-based art community here, so the art doesn’t upset the apple cart. It’s going to ride along with it.”

PHOTOS: RICHARD LIMBER

Mona/Jacob Blake. iKEA print + a print (from an ink painting of Blake) with added spray paint.

Times about the Gene Hackman film, ‘The French Connection.’ Disney taking offensive words out of the movie doesn’t make sense. He plays a very flawed character, it’s who he is in the movie. They took whole scenes out so that it doesn’t

make sense now. We can’t use those words even if there is context. It’s a weird time we’re in right now.” Limber argues that if racism is in the context of the film, you’re taking something away if you omit scenes where racism is portrayed. “It wasn’t

because the director was racist; it was a very flawed character.”

We switch gears and start to talk about artificial intelligence in art, and Limber tells me he thinks a lot of visual art already looks like it was generated by AI. Then we’re back to talking about the Island and how economic forces lead to artists painting different versions of the same thing over and over again. He said he could be as commercial as the next guy when it comes to his artwork, but it’s clear he doesn’t think there’s any fun in that proposition.

“My education was a lot of sketching in museums and doing wacky sketches the guards enjoyed,” Limber says. “I have some traditional skills, and I’m able to render something quickly, knowing composition and color and their relationship to what you are doing. I take relatively traditional techniques and try to make it relevant. You’re not successful all the time. For me, it’s about mixing it up. Traditional with contemporary. You can render something and have life in it too.”

Limber says it has been a challenge on the Island to get his artwork into the mainstream, so much so that sometimes he wonders why he’s still here after all these years.

“Before, it was more unique and people didn’t judge you,” he says. “Decades ago, yes, you had to spend some money to get here, but the economy allowed for artists to survive and do their artwork. Now, it’s extreme wealth.” Limber thinks a minute then laughs, “Anyone else with half a brain would go do this someplace else, but I’m a stubborn person.”

Richard Limber’s studio is at 184R Circuit Ave., Oak Bluffs. He plans to be open through the rest of the summer, and if not, look him up and he’ll set something up with you.

Connie Berry is the managing editor of The Martha’s Vineyard Times, where she continues to write. She is also editor of this magazine, Arts & Ideas, Vineyard Visitor magazine, and co-editor of Edible Vineyard magazine. When she’s not working, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her family in their Vineyard Haven home.

"No Marks," inspired by a Jean-Luc Godard film still, mixed media backlit.

Richard describes how global politics and current events inspire his artwork.

Transitions

By Cindy Kane

In my beginnings as an artist, my earliest work was figurative. I used to paint on a black background and carve into the paint with large nails. The images were scrawled black silhouettes with a lot of scratchy lines in the background that resembled petroglyphs. I never used paint brushes in that time, I still feel close to that work, because it was unselfconscious and immediate and raw in a way that I have never been able to get back to.

Over the years, the figure as a subject has come and gone. But it's mostly been gone

as I structured my paintings and installations around environmental and political issues, concentrating on bird extinction and whales, and animal communities.

But after my family experienced a profound personal loss earlier this year, I did not feel connected to the work I had been making. My inner life was (and continues to be) so absorbed by acute grief that I needed to hone that personal landscape, not in a specific narrative way, but through a new kind of vulnerability that I wanted my work to contain.

The path to that place began by looking through photographs from my childhood. Through the process of looking at my child self, core words emerged like a mantra. Words like Focus, Hold, Hug, and Hope. These words shaped the primary themes of my emerging paintings, and brought me back to feeling closer to the earlier work I had felt disconnected from.

My painting process through all its meanderings and anxieties and problemsolving is part of my lifeline and helps to keep me afloat.

"Focus," acrylic, 48 in. x 48 in.

"Hug," acrylic, 48 in. x 48 in.

"Kneel," acrylic, 42 in. x 54 in.

PHOTOS: CINDY KANE

Guns & Grammar

By Frank Bergon

First in 2008 and again in 2022, United States Supreme Court justices assured us that their close textual reading of the Second Amendment revealed its original meaning: Americans have a nearly unlimited right to carry any kind of gun anywhere they please.

Textual interpretations of the Second Amendment depend on the grammatical link between “militia” and “the right” to bear arms as understood in colonial times. The challenge before us is this: How do we read a colonial English sentence?

As a result, these are the most studied 27 words in American legal history: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

The 1791 wording seems ambiguous.

But it isn’t. The Second Amendment is a perfectly formed sentence. We only have to understand its grammatical construction.

The conservative majority approach was led by Justice Antonin Scalia, who followed the principle that “only the written word is the law.” For the meaning of words, he consulted both the 1773 edition of Dr. Samuel Johnson’s A Dictionary of the English Language and Noah Webster’s 1828 American Dictionary of the English Language.

He correctly noted that the Second Amendment is a single sentence in two parts. So far so good. He argued that the two parts divide naturally into a “prefatory clause,” rambling harmlessly about a militia and a more important “operative clause” that unambiguously guarantees a right to have any gun at any time. And he wasn’t alone. Other judges and ideologues repeated Scalia’s reference to the first part

of the amendment as a “prefatory clause,” beginning a chain of grammatical misreadings. They’ve no excuse for it. It isn’t a prefatory clause. It isn’t an independent clause or even a dependent clause.

A clause in traditional grammar requires a subject and a predicate, a fact that was instilled in me by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet starting in the sixth grade. Of the six justices who attended a Catholic elementary or high school, not one has offered a correct grammatical reading of the amendment. Surely some must have spent as many hours as I did at the chalkboard, diagramming sentences into nouns, verbs, participial phrases, direct and indirect objects, dependent clauses, adverbial modifiers, and other parts of speech. I can picture Justice Scalia trying to wriggle his way out as Sister Kathleen Mary admonishes him for fabricating his own grammatical rules.

The point here isn’t a neglected grammatical technicality. The Heller decision rests solidly on Justice Scalia’s faulty grammatical analysis of the way the sentence’s two parts are linked. To Scalia’s claim that the well-regulated militia “clause” doesn’t “grammatically” limit the operative clause concerning the right of Americans to bear arms, Sister Kathleen Mary would have responded, “Wrong! The exact opposite is true grammatically.”

Once again: Who’s correct?

While diagramming sentences has grown less fashionable in literacy education, it remains an effective tool for revealing how a sentence’s construction determines its meaning. Let’s look at a diagram of the Second Amendment:

The top line of the diagram illustrates that the first part of the sentence is not a grammatical clause because the subject (militia) isn’t followed by a predicate. It’s

KATE FEIFFER

modified by a participial phrase. Looking past this grammatical distinction was the initial mistake in a string of grammatical falsehoods that distort the sentence’s meaning while failing what might be a sixthgrade grammar test. Rather than saying anything about the positive right to bear arms, the linkage only specifies a condition under which the right may not be infringed.

The first part of the sentence is a form borrowed from Latin called an ablative absolute. In Latin, this grammatical construction is widely used to define the time or cause for an action. It’s linked in meaning to the rest of the sentence but is otherwise grammatically independent or free-floating. A translated example of such a Latin sentence might be: The enemy being exposed, Caesar led the charge.

The diagrammed sentence looks like two separate statements, but the first gives the reason or moment for Caesar’s charge. It’s called absolute (absol tum) because it stands apart from the rest of the sentence. But it expresses the cause or occasion for the main action of the sentence, why or when Caesar led the charge.

The absolute is a powerful construction that can simultaneously combine the reason and time for an action. A study of Latin helps here but is not necessary. We can see how temporal and causal meanings overlap in an English sentence like The day being rainy, we stayed home. A sentence like this offers a dual understanding of when and why we stayed home (because and when the day was rainy).

To avoid a shouting match between the justices and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, let’s accept, for the moment, Scalia’s use of “prefatory clause” in a general lawyerly way. Even if he labels it incorrectly, he seems to acknowledge its grammatical function in saying it “announces a purpose.” He concedes that the right to

“bear arms” must serve the “stated purpose” (at least in part) of having a “well regulated militia.” His point is that the clause announces a purpose — but not the sole purpose — of the right to bear arms.

Here’s where he makes a grammatical error in how the two parts of the sentence are linked. The grammar of the sentence doesn’t announce a purpose for the right to bear arms. It announces when and why the right shall not be infringed. The diagrams above show that absolute constructions never modify the subject of the sentence but always the predicate. The Second Amendment doesn’t say we can’t own guns to go hunting or maybe even to defend ourselves when necessary, but the right for such purposes can be infringed, as already happens when we restrict the times of year that we can shoot elk or the kinds of guns we can own to do so. The Second Amendment uses the absolute construction borrowed from Latin to give us the reason and occasion for the main command of the sentence — when and why the right to keep and bear arms for a well-regulated militia shall not be infringed.

To those textualists and originalists

who complain that what’s pertinent here is the “plain meaning of the text as understood when written in English, not Latin,” we have to point out that several Founding Fathers had a classical education and frequently wrote with absolute constructions. James Madison, who wrote the Second Amendment, was an expert Latinist who learned the language at 12 and later translated many Latin orators. In a memorandum, Madison opened with an absolute, “The conversation being at an end, he took his leave with a cold formality, and I did not see him afterwards.” John Hancock followed suit more elaborately in a letter: “The enclosed Resolves of Congress being necessary for your Information, & Direction, & relative to the Department immediately under your Command, I do myself the Honor of transmitting the same.” The grammatical form was commonplace at the time, and most readers, even without formal training, would understand its use.

Absolute constructions also aren’t grammatical fossils irrelevant to current English. Today, we still use sentences that contain free-floating absolutes to modify verbs in just the same way that is done in the Second Amendment. These are

familiar phrases such as “All things being equal,” “Everything being considered,” “Weather permitting,” “God willing,” or “That being the case.” Here’s another example of an absolute construction defining the reason and occasion for an action: “The first draft of the Second Amendment being repetitive and clunky, James Madison revised it.”

Here’s Madison’s first draft:

The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; a well armed and well regulated militia being the best security of a free country: but no person religiously scrupulous of bearing arms shall be compelled to render military service in person.

In his revision, Madison created a more precise, elegant sentence, comprised of an absolute construction and an independent clause, to become the Second Amendment as we now know it. The grammar of the amendment is clear in both its original and current meaning. What becomes unclear are multiple legal and historical interpretations spawned by rephrasing it.

The words of the Second Amendment don’t guarantee citizens an individual right to gun ownership. They say nothing about a protected right to keep guns at home or in the street for selfdefense. In 1791, the grammar of the amendment would have been

understood to declare the limited circumstance for when and why the right to bear arms could not be infringed. And I’ll add here an originalist historical note to buttress this textualist reading: In colonial times, members of state militias were expected to supply their own weapons.

Chief Justice Roberts’s oftrepeated proverb that “the want of a horseshoe nail leads to loss of the kingdom” indicates how an initial mistake can create a disastrous chain of causation. Unfortunately, the want of a correct textual reading of the Second Amendment leads to the disastrous loss of its originalist meaning. As Sister Kathleen Mary might say: The Supreme Court has many powers, but altering English grammar isn’t one of them.

This essay was originally published in May in the Los Angeles Review of Books and is here revised for Martha’s Vineyard Arts & Ideas, along with a drawing by Kate Feiffer.

Frank Bergon has published 12 books, most recently a memoir, “The Toughest Kid We Knew: The Old Knew West: A Personal History.” He is currently writing a novel set in Chiapas, Mexico, during the recent Zapatista revolt.

A clause in traditional grammar requires a subject and a predicate, a fact that was instilled in me by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet starting in the sixth grade.

For Vineyard scribes

Islanders Write brings the literary lights of August right to our shores.

By Kate Feiffer

The Vineyard is catnip for creative types. The Island’s literary legacy alone is a veritable who’s who of notable writers. There’s W. Somerset Maugham, Dorothy West, James Thurber, John Hersey, Lillian Hellman — oh, how this spectacular list continues on and on to this day. There’s no official count of the number of writers who have visited, lived and vacationed on the Island, but whatever the number is, it is surely robust enough to fill up a ferry and leave many left waiting in the standby line.

It's fitting then that August has emerged as an extraordinary time for the literary arts on the Island. What better time is there for a summer book-fling? Readings and book signings are scheduled throughout the month at the Island’s libraries, galleries, and bookstores. The Martha’s Vineyard Book Festival takes place in Chilmark during the first weekend of August, and Islanders Write, which is brought to you by the MV Times and this magazine, will return to Featherstone Center for the Arts on August 20 and 21.

And, yes, there’s room for two literary-themed festivals on one Island during this particularly busy month. In part, because these events are quite different from each other.

The Martha’s Vineyard Book Festival showcases the country's leading authors for several days of author talks, panel discussions, and book signings. According to event organizer Suellen Lazarus, “Featured themes this year include poverty and incarceration, the Supreme Court, the political landscape, national security,

family and gender, and a search for solutions.” This year Kwame Alexander, Jessamine Chan, and Tracy Kidder are a few of the notable authors who will come to the Vineyard to speak at the book festival.

Islanders Write brings writers and publishing professionals together for panel discussions, writing workshops focused on the art, the craft, and the business of writing, author signings with an Edgartown Books pop-up, designated writing spaces, and schmoozing. What differentiates Islanders Write from every other writers’ festival worldwide

look at cartooning with two New Yorker cartoonists, covering the political divide, a pitch panel, a conversation about publishing with agents and editors, and workshops on plotting, escaping from imposter syndrome, meditation as muse, and a primer into digital marketing. And as always, the day will begin with a Wake Up and Write! Workshop.

Given the Vineyard’s ability to attract and nurture the talents of writers, some of the speakers at Islanders Write have received extraordinary honors — Pulitzer Prizes, Tony Awards, MacArthur Fellowships, and books surfing various bestseller lists. But not all the writers speaking at Islanders Write are well-known — yet. Event speakers include authors whose books took our breath away — writers to watch and read — and we want to know how they did it.

KATE FEIFFER

is that everyone who is a speaker or facilitates a workshop has a connection to Martha’s Vineyard. They are writers and publishing professionals that you bump into on the beach, and at the farmers and flea markets. They are the writers whose names tend to be familiar on the Island, perhaps you’ve even heard some gossip about some of them. (They will deny whatever it is you’ve heard.)

This summer at Islanders Write topics will include: writing across racial lines, who drives what — character and plot, a conversation with James Lapine and Rose Styron (whose new memoir is excerpted in this magazine), a behind-the-scenes

As of this writing the speakers at Islanders Write include Nancy Slonim Aronie, T. Elizabeth Bell, Geraldine Brooks, Emma Brodie, Callie Crossley, Nicole Galland, Susan Golumb, Hannah Halperin, Judith Hannan, John Hough, Jr., Paul Karasik, Peter Kramer, James Lapine, Mara Liasson, Bella Morais, Mathea Morais, Torrey Oberfest, Richard North Patterson, Misan Sagay, Walter Shapiro, Katherine Sherbrooke, Sherry Sidoti, Mick Stevens, Adriana Stimola, Rosemary Stimola, Rose Styron, Jennifer Smith Turner, Patricia Williams, and Gretchen Young.

The literary events mentioned in this article are free to attend. For more information about Islanders Write, go to islanderswrite. com. Kate Feiffer is the event producer for Islanders Write.

We don’t have to sacrifice art for life

By Monica L. Williams • Portrait by Robyn Twomey

Iask myself this question daily, “Is it possible for me to take care of myself and those I love while making great art and growing my career?” Yes. Absolutely. What if we shift how we perceive artists, artmaking, and artists' humanity? What if we replace the myth that artists must give up everything that makes us well. We lay to rest the idea of sacrifice for art, and in its place, we see ourselves as whole, essential, and contributing human beings. We require our social contracts and our business contracts to reflect our core beliefs. I started LoveHustle in 2013, an artist-led, multiplatform conversation about artists pursuing dreams while balancing life, love, family, relationships, and work. This

10-year examination of artists’ work/life balance, begins and ends with the conversations we have with ourselves.

Monica L. Williams is a conceptual performance artist and artistic leader who specializes in cross-sector collaborations. Her work has been presented live and virtually at various community-based organizations, festivals, off-Broadway theaters and major cultural institutions including the world famous Apollo Theater, John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater, TED Women Conference, Audible, and the National Black Arts Festival. She lives in Harlem, N.Y., and is a frequent visitor to the Island.

BRICQUE GARBER

Hearing voices

By Gwyn McAllister

It was while West Tisbury artist Bricque Garber was living in Greece that she began her most recent work, the “She” series. Garber and her partner Katherine Triantafillou spend six weeks every year settled into an ancestral farmhouse in a tiny Grecian village, where she focuses on her artwork while Triantafillou writes. “We go there for peace and quiet,” says the artist. “I try to spend every day working on my art.”

For the “She” series, Garber says she found inspiration in the struggles of women around the world. “Globally, women are really being pushed into the background in a way that I don't remember in my lifetime,” she says.

Garber almost always has a message to convey in her mixed-media pieces, which she refers to as “intuitive collage.”

The artist uses acrylic paint, torn handmade paper, small sections of patterned fabric, and bits with words or images ripped from magazines to create her colorful multimedia work. In her most recent series, Garber selected a variety of patterned handmade papers to create the women's clothing and painted over other scraps of paper for the background. She

added random bits of newsprint — mostly in Greek in this case. She uses the lettering simply as another design element. “I try to find magazines and newspapers written in foreign languages,” she says, “that way you don't get distracted by the words.”

The collage images in “She” represent either single figures or groups of women with a notable absence — they are missing their mouths. “Women have been silenced in the most horrible ways,” Garber says. “Women's voices are not being heard, especially in Afghanistan, but also here in the U.S. with the overturning of Roe v. Wade.”

“Women's voices are not being heard, especially in Afghanistan, but also here in the U.S. with the overturning of Roe v. Wade.”

Garber is represented by the Cousen Rose Gallery in Oak Bluffs, and for her large scale, multifigure piece from the “She" series, Garber chose to represent a multicultural mix.

“I really want to represent women as a whole,” she says. “The women in these pieces don't have mouths. It's all about women in general not having a voice.”

Focus on what’s missing and you’ll find the message in Bricque Garber’s work.

"She #35," paper collage, 12 in. x 18 in.

GALLERIES & STUDIOS

Want to check out more Island artists? Visit some of our favorites.

Aquinnah

Seaweed Art Gallery

Corinna Majno-Kaufman has learned to find the slippery silver lining in the seaweed most beachgoers avoid. Her art, created from fresh seaweed fished from the ocean, reveals timeless and everlasting natural beauty. The Seaweed Art Gallery is open most afternoons in Aquinnah. seaweedartist.com

Chilmark

Creekville Art & Antiques

This Menemsha Gallery on Basin Road boasts a fine Adolf Dehn collection, plus a large group of original lithographs by Thomas Hart Benton. And these are just a few of your favorite things you will find at the gallery. Open April through October. suziepachecoart.com/ creekville-art-and-antiques

Kara Taylor Gallery

Taylor spends part of the year in Cape Town, South Africa, and it influences her craft. The gallery on South Road offers new work every summer season, and typically remains open into early fall. Featuring oil, gold leaf paintings, mixedmedia work, and sculpture, it sometimes hosts pop-ups with other artists. karataylorart.com

Ruel Gallery

Vineyard Summer, Rule 1: Menemsha sunset, frappe from The Galley, Larson’s lobster rolls, and a visit to the Ruel Gallery. Colin Ruel and his wife Nettie Kent Ruel opened the Ruel Gallery to share their paintings, jewelry, and beach plum jelly. The spot has become a Menemsha meeting place for artists and art lovers, and is open most of the year. ruelgallery.com

Edgartown

The Cristina Gallery

Sail into the Cristina Gallery and navigate through their two floors of traditional art to find their not-so-secret “best-kept secret.” Buried between art

from more than 25 artists are antique maps from the 1500s and nautical charts from the 1800s. Enchanting to look at, but not recommended to replace your GPS for the sail out. christina.com

The Edgartown Art Gallery

The Edgartown Art Gallery is checked into The Charlotte Inn, but you don’t have to book a room to visit the pastels, watercolors, and oil paintings that hang here, many from the 1800s and 1900s. edgartownartgallery.com

Eisenhauer Gallery

The Eisenhauer Gallery is sharing art through sight and sound this summer. Exhibitions include a special show in August featuring Vineyard artist Janice Frame, and two Ghanaian artists — Theophillus Tetteh and Affen Segun. And on Thursday evenings, musicians perform live music outside the gallery. eisenhauergallery.com

Mikel Hunter Gallery

This Winter Street gallery offers unique and inspired items, both art and design, and fine art and apparel, making it an excellent place to browse. Open “by chance or appointment.” mikelhunter.com/fine-art

North Water Gallery

The North Water Gallery, conveniently located on North Water Street, displays traditional and contemporary fine art, including Vineyard-themed pieces. This summer, the gallery will be holding artist receptions, which include meet-andgreets. northwatergallery.com

Old Sculpin Gallery

Catboat Week, held every July, combines wind and water, and at Old Sculpin Gallery, color. The gallery is also open throughout the rest of summer and into September. It functions as a nonprofit organization to build a community space for Island artists to show and share their work. oldsculpingallery.org

Untamable Gallery

Artist Lucy Dahl is bringing edgy, funky, and naughty art to the otherwise pristine streets of Edgartown this summer at the Untamable Gallery on Dock Street. Dahl specializes in capturing what the naked eye cannot, taming the untamable. The gallery features a variety of art forms, from photographs to clothing, silverware, and note cards. untameablegallery.com

Winter Street Gallery

Winter Street Gallery welcomed this season with their “On Genres” show in June and July by taking a modern look at 17th century genres through painting, installations, sculptures, videos, and photographs from more than 10 artists. Then they finish the season with “Widow’s Walk,” which features another dozen artists. winterstreetgallery.com

Oak Bluffs

Alison Shaw Gallery

A hundred years ago, a small firehouse was built on Dukes County Avenue to hold Oak Bluffs Engine No. 4. Since 2006, the Alison Shaw Gallery, featuring the work of photographer Alison Shaw, has inhabited the space and fired up the Oak Bluffs Arts District. alisonshaw.com

Cousen Rose Gallery

Cousen Rose Gallery aims to bring art from around the world to Oak Bluffs. Weekly shows are celebrated with receptions and live music on Saturday evenings. cousenrose.com

Crossroads Gallery

The Crossroads Gallery, located on the singular Dukes County Avenue, is a showcase of Michael Blanchard’s Island photography and the struggles he, and other Islanders, have overcome. The gallery has become a meeting place for art and emotion, a crossroad of expression. Michael also sells a Vineyard-themed calendar, and this year the sales support Vineyard Committee on Hunger. blanchardphotomv.com

Featherstone Center for The Arts

Featherstone welcomes two guest curators this summer, and the work of artists who haven’t shown on the Island before. In July, Richard Michelson assembled a show of 10 Latinx children’s book illustrators. In August, Kara Taylor brings the work of 24 South African artists to the Island. Featherstone is open year-round. featherstoneart.org

Galaxy Gallery

Located on Dukes County Ave., in the heart of the Oak Bluffs Art District, Galaxy Gallery is open spring through fall with exhibits by “stellar” Island artists. The gallery is also part of the monthly summer Art Strolls. galaxygallerymv.org

Groovy Sue Gallery

As its name implies, the Groovy Sue Gallery, which houses the work of multi-media artist Suesan Stovall, is the grooviest gallery around. The gallery has a literary salon-meets-flea market feel to it and will be open by appointment and luck in July and August with an artist reception on August 20.

Harry Seymour Studio

An artist’s studio in Oak Bluffs where you’ll find pastel, scratchboard, and egg tempera paintings. Seymour’s work reflects his African American cultural experiences and his time on Martha’s Vineyard. Call for an appointment. 413-531-1084.

Knowhere Art Gallery

Knowhere Art Gallery and Center of Knowhere are easy to find if you know where you want to go. The gallery uses art as a vehicle, with a focus on humanity and a goal to change the world. This summer there will be group exhibitions, artist showcases, creative workshops, art strolls, and a film screening. knowhereart.com

Moore Studio

The Moore Family Gallery is more than just a family gallery. Andrew Moore and his children, Hannah and Gordon, are proof that artistic talent runs in blood. The gallery features paintings

by Andrew and Hannah, ceramics by Gordon, and limited edition Giclee prints. moorefamilygallery.com

Periwinkle Studio

Judith Drew Schebert’s artistic home showcases her block-printed clothing, oil paintings, and pastels. The artist’s work is inspired by the natural world, including aspects that are often overlooked. judithdrewschubert.com

Washington Ledesma Studio

Tucked on a side street in Oak Bluffs is the studio of ceramist and painter Washington Ledesma. His works are inspired by ancient cultures that lived during a time when there was more harmony among humans and nature. washingtonledesmamv.com

Vineyard Haven

51ART Gallery

What’s black and white and red all over? 51ART Gallery, where, behind the shoppe’s red door, Teresa Kruszewski displays her black-and-white photographs. theshoppewiththereddoor.com

Althea Designs

Althea Designs is stamping color onto the Vineyard Haven harborside with their folk-art block prints. Althea herself is available for one-on-one creative wellness workshops, and the studio is open by chance or appointment for shopping. altheadesigns.com

Blue Fathom Gallery

Blue Fathom Gallery has recently replaced Night Heron Gallery on Main Street in Vineyard Haven, and features art by several Island artists.

Louisa Gould Gallery

This summer, Lousia Gouild celebrates the 20th anniversary of her eponymously named Louisa Gould Gallery. Over the years, the gallery has shown over 300 artists, and this summer, 20 artists for 20 years will be shown in the “20/20” show. The gallery will also host a “Summertide” show and a special guest exhibit of African American painters. louisagould.com

Michael Johnson Photo Studio

Both vibrant color and black-and-white photography can be found at Johnson’s photo gallery on Main Street behind Claudia’s. His iconic photo “Joy” depicts the Polar Bear swimming group, with hands in the air in celebration at Inkwell Beach. michaeljimage.com

West Tisbury

Ashley Medowski Gallery

On Lambert’s Cove Road, this sweet spot offers everything from paintings to driftwood sculpture to sea glass jewelry. ashleymedowskigallery.com

The Davis House Gallery

A Vineyard summer actually begins when Allen Whiting opens his home and transforms his living room into The Davis House Gallery to show his newest work. The Davis House Gallery is open weekend afternoons throughout July and August. allenwhiting.com

Field Gallery

The Field Gallery is dancing through five separate shows and with new work by more than ten artists. Gallery receptions are now on Saturdays, from 4 to 6 pm, on August 12 and 26. fieldgallery.com

The Granary Gallery

Fridays will be fun this summer at the Granary Gallery, with five receptions and artist talks for 15 artists. The Granary Gallery, locally known as the Red Barn, is the largest and oldest art gallery on Martha’s Vineyard, with indoor and outdoor spaces featuring art from local and national names. granarygallery.com

Turpentine Gallery

Turpentine Gallery is opening with Mitch Gordon’s “Boundless” show this summer. The gallery itself was renovated with inspiration from Japanese architecture to create an art piece in itself. The show will explore the boundaries, and lack there-of, between ourselves, our Island, our sea, and our universe. turpentinegallery.art

From my perch

Capturing the magic of local bookstores.

By Mathew Tombers

Most days, you’ll find me perched behind the counter at the bookstore, checking out customers, answering questions, all while also attempting to do some paperwork, place orders, track down missing books, all the things a bookstore manager has to do as well as selling books.

It’s a great place to observe the day’s events, witnessing the potent mix of people and ideas. One of the many things I’ve enjoyed during my time in the bookstore is watching the coming together of people, some known to each other, some not, to discuss books and the ideas contained in them.

Bookstores don’t sell widgets — they sell ideas, adventures, looks into other possible lives, romance, triumph, tragedy, analysis of why things are the way they are, history, travel, poetry, love, flights of fancy, escapism, humor, cooking, grieving, and how to accomplish almost anything.

efforts in the U.S. to ban books. If it was bad in 1982, it is exponentially worse now.

When Banned Books Week was over, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to take them down. It’s now, I suspect, a semipermanent feature and a source of many a conversation.

From my perch, in direct line of sight of the display, I get involved in many of the interchanges ignited by our Banned Books wall. One of the most poignant was a couple from Florida who feel they are being pushed out of their home state by all the politics behind book banning. Native Floridians, they were not going — yet.

It’s a spot sparking all kinds of conversations, and it’s a topic many want to weigh in on. Teachers on summer break shared their school year woes with book bans. Middle-aged customers say, in bewilderment, “these were required reading when I was in high school.”

Their excitement, their laughter, and their sheer joy of reading filled the room and remains with me.

One of my favorite memories is sitting at my perch, watching a group of people who did not know each other discuss Erik Larson’s “The Splendid and the Vile'' during its first release in hardcover. Their conversation spread from that book to other nonfiction books they’d read and loved, sharing titles with each other, notes taken on smartphones for later use. Their excitement, their laughter, and their sheer joy of reading filled the room and remains with me.

Late last summer there was the annual Banned Books Week, an effort launched in 1982 by the American Library Association and Amnesty International, since joined by many others, including the American Booksellers Association and PEN America, to bring attention to the ongoing

Our Great Reads section is another door-opener for conversation. Just the other day, someone pulled the current hot seller “Happy Place” from its spot on the shelf, turned to me, and asked what I thought of it. Before I could answer, another customer swooped in, commenting she had just finished it and loved it.

I sat back and smiled.

These moments of dialogue capture the magic of a bookstore, sharing the good — or the bad — with someone else, offering up personal insights into the intellectual work of an author, creating a vibrancy that is wonderful.

Hard to imagine the same thing happening in a big box store.

Mathew Tombers is manager of Edgartown Books, and will host pop-up book signings at Islanders Write this year.

LIGHTHOUSE ROAD, AQUINNAH

Waterview beach house in Aquinnah just a hop skip and a jump to the calm and sandy waters of the North Shore. Traditional layout with the kitchen, living, dining room and full bath on the first floor. The living room comes with water views and a cozy fireplace, and multiple sliding doors that walk out to the wrap around porch. Upstairs the views are increasingly beautiful! Four bedrooms share a full bath, one of the bedrooms has a fireplace while two have sliding doors that walk out to water view balconies. The full walkout basement/garage offers plenty of room for a vehicle, extra storage or to set up a ping pong table. This bright and airy home is the perfect Aquinnah retreat. Exclusively offered please inquire.

508.645.2628 Chilmark

508.696.9999 West Tisbury