The Comet - May 2021

JAIME’S TATTOO GARDEN PAGE 16

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

everything will be fine

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THIS issue editor: Ron Evans publishing assistant: Sarah Sims contributors: Cory Calhoun, Sarah Sims, Kristen Acesta, Dan McConnell Nick Carlo, Loni Mckenzie thecometmagazine@gmail.com

crossword............................PAGE 7 sex toy patents..................PAGE 9 starheadboy.......................PAGE 10 A weekday hike..................PAGE 12 served hot.........................PAGE 14 mf pottery.........................PAGE 16 charity nelson...................PAGE 19 how bizarre.........................PAGE 24 star bitch............................PAGE 27 Brain DUMP...........................PAGE 28 funny pages.........................PAGE 30

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COMET HEADQUARTERS Happy Apple Blossom! Or it should have been anyway. As I write this the sun is shining, the wind is blowing, everyone is sneezing and the hint of Apple Blossom weather is in the air. Of course, this year we will have to wait until June for the scent of greasy corn dogs and piroshkis intoxicatingly wafting over a sea of souped up cars revving across town. It will be interesting to see a summer version (albeit pared down) of the century-old festival. Here’s hoping the phases will be on our side...

Speaking of phases, I hope you read Erica X Eisen’s eye-opening essay “The Mark of The Beast” on page 22. I found it both maddening and somehow reassuring that very little is new concerning conspiracy theories and vaccines.

I hear from people all the time that they refuse to take “the Mark” because they are certain Bill Gates slipped in a microchip or maybe even something to kill us as to thin the population. If the latter was true, what makes these anti-vaxxers so sure THEY are the ones that will be here after us sheeple have died off? Wouldn’t it be in Gates’s interest (or any of the powers that be) to put something in the vaccine to PROTECT us chumps that are going along with the master plan? Protect us from something more dangerous coming soon? A more deadly virus? Chemtrails? A new Kardashians spin off? And on the off-chance any of those theories are right, well...most of my favorite people are already (or plan on getting) vaccinated, and come hell or high water, I think I’d rather end up wherever they go. We sheep like to stick together.

Anyhoo, The Comet is growing in distribution and coverage and we hope to reach into the Methow Valley soon on both fronts. If you are in that area and would like to help facilitate that, reach out to us, there may be a reward in it for you. Or there may not. Depends on how many records I buy this month.

I also want to invite our readers to check out the Holly & Ron Show podcast.

I know...just what the world needs, another podcast. But if you like this mag you will like the show (R-rated, because why not?) more than likely. Random chats about random things, often at least tied to local stories or doings. For those who don’t know, my cohost Holly Thorpe cofounded this here newspaper with me. Then one day, she left to get a pack of smokes and never came back. But she IS back with a mostly weekly show, so look for it where you you listen to podcasts. The video version is available at The Comet’s Facebook page as well.

Well, hang in there my friends. We have a long ways to go before “normal” but aside from a few missteps (looking at YOU Republic...) we seem to be mostly inching our way out of this horse shit. As predicted by most experts we will likely see some counties going back to Phase 2 for at least a bit longer. These are the growing pains of recovery from a pandemic that history books will be teaching about for 100 years. But we will all...wait, is that a chemtrail up there?

Happy Trails, Ron Evans Editor of The Comet

Holly and I recording a drunken podcast “live” at Fire in Pybus.

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TBD, ????????? ??, 20???

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CORY CALHOUN'S PUZZLE CORNER Crosswords & more made exclusively for The Comet

THE 2ND META CROSSWORD CONTEST of 2021!

Enter for a chance to win a cool mystery prize by solving 2021's 2nd meta crossword! HOW TO ENTER: 1. Solve the crossword below. 2. Solve its meta puzzle (instructions at tinyurl.com/corymetas). 3. Email just the meta puzzle answer for the hint (don't send the solved grid!) to cscxwords@gmail.com by 12am PT, May 24, 2021.

(One submission per entrant, please.) We'll randomly pick a winner from the correct entries, and announce the winner and puzzle answers in the next issue. Good luck!

"COUNTING BY THREES"

ACROSS 1. Over-actors 5. Craggy peak 8. Strategy 14. Wind quintet instrument 15. Labyrinth's end?

16. Fairy king from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" 17. "Right on target!"

19. Part of MOMA 20. Certain to-do lists for binge watchers 22. Flamenco cheer 23. Blood-bank quantity 24. Quarry 27. Embargoes 29. Vicious of the Sex Pistols 30. ___ Sutra 31. Oscar Isaac's "Star Wars" sequels role 34. Spinal-column supporters 37. Comforts 41. Comeback 42. Light-switch activator, sometimes 44. Slalom segment 45. They may be inflated 46. Script conclusion?

48. Sushi seaweed 52. Catty remark?

HINT: The meta answer is a 6-letter American company.

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ANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

>>> For solving instructions, visit tinyurl.com/coryanacrostics <<<

CLUES:

ANSWERS:

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"___ Got a Secret" 9

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Type of phone 14

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Squabble Zero

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DOWN 1. Schmooze 2. Granadan grandmother 3. Like certain chocolate cakes 4. Women's lifestyle magazine since 1979 5. Relationship 6. Transparent quartzes 7. Furnish with new gear 8. Oscar winner Marisa 9. Roughly 10. Transfer 11. Cross the line, perhaps 12. Suffix with "super" or "poster"

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18. ___-mo 21. Fully anesthetized 25. "How ___ Your Mother" 26. Zap 28. Starchy sack-fillers 30. Newsstand 32. Tolkien beast 33. It can be shocking 35. Sprawl 36. Biden before and Harris now, for short 37. "Excuse me ..."

38. Guru 39. Studded ring?

40. Like the late Jamal Khashoggi 43. Pitch on paper 47. It may purr if treated properly 49. Julia's "Seinfeld" role 50. Reveals 51. Ersatz 53. Nitrous ___ (laughing gas) 54. Choir platform 55. Courtyards 56. Hawaii's Mauna ___ 59. Quatrain rhyme scheme 60. Former name of Ally Financial 61. Broadcast inits.

62. China's Chou En-___

SOLUTION TO LAST EDITION'S CROSSWORD Q U A S A R

U L T I M A

O N A B E T

W C R Y H A L A D E L O V E P I I S M

QUOTE: 1

53. Like first, second, or third, descriptively 57. "___ Miserables" 58. Approaching the terminal after landing, in aviation lingo 61. Covers 63. Italian dessert made with espresso 64. Flaunt 65. "Wheel of Fortune" request 66. Give ___ to (approve) 67. "Love Yourself" singer Justin 68. Raiding grp.

69. Prefix with –zoic

T H A E R I R R E D C O A N P T T U X R E E N S O N

H U R E T A S R L L D A O M M I N D A O T D E O D

A S T E N I O N I N G T K A R C I E R N R E G E D V I S I I N I N C G E E O N A S P E S L V I A E S T

J O L L Y R O G E R

T A I O B S N E S L I E E N S A F T N

Z O M A B S I H E

E M B O D Y

R E A R E D

SOLUTIONS TO LAST EDITION'S ANAGRAM CHALLENGE Theme of new words: Types of music. TAMALE - A = METAL, LOCUS - C = SOUL, MOLE - L = EMO, BLOUSE - O = BLUES, PSOCID - P = DISCO, ASKS - S = SKA, CORKY - Y = ROCK. Leftover letters A, C, L, O, P, S, and Y anagram into CALYPSO.

I CRAVE FEEDBACK! Thoughts? Suggestions? Lemme have it. CSCXWORDS@GMAIL.COM

32 34 book series, 1978-2017 36 What she is in Italy?

EMAIL @ >

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devices for promoting marital accord sex-toy patent illustrations by ron evans

I

’m a sucker for patent illustrations.

Blueprints, minute calculations and exploded diagrams with architect-like thoroughness and precision. These are truly under-appreciated works of art all on their own but I especially love a quirky invention to go along with it. Sure, an early typewriter is an elegant and complex piece of machinery that demands and deserves its own set of hand drawn blueprints. But a detailed chart of an automatic back-scratching apparatus from 1905 is even more fun. The notion of something a bit silly being paid the same amount of detail as any ‘true’ innovation of modern technology is something I find deeply enjoyable. Enter: Sex Toy Patents.

I could have worded that a number of ways. I chose that way.

Now, historians debate as to when sex toys were first invented proper, but let’s be honest - cave people were likely shoving things into other things as soon as they discovered that sex could be at least somewhat simulated. While there are enduring tales of Cleopatra wanking it with a gourd filled with angry bees - aka the first vibrator - sadly there’s no evidence this ever happened. Clever idea though right? Although, PETA might have something to say about it. Still, by the time of the Great Pyramids, sex toys were certainly a thing. But it wasn’t until 1790 that our increasingly competitive modern trade and commerce world decided it

needed a Patent Office. The very first recorded patent was a fairly mundane one, issued to Samuel Hopkins for a method of producing potash (potassium carbonate).

Thus, an entire subgenre of art was born. We all know that quite a few famous artists made a living doing “grunt” work before making it on their own merit.

Frank Frazetta ghost-inked several syndicated cartoon strips. Before becoming the ‘Painter of Light’, Thomas Kinkade painted backgrounds to low-budget sci-fi and fantasy animations like Ralph Bakshi’s (Fritz The Cat, American Pop) Fire And Ice. God knows how many famous illustrators or architects were side-hustling in the patent illustration racket.

Anyway, that’s enough rambling. I now present to you some selections from the patent archives of inventions that were initially touted as ‘devices to promote marital accord.’ I almost included the description for each device but, not only is it funnier without them, I trust you will do just fine on the guessing. And while...I know this article will have a few pickup locations tucking their stacks of Comet magazines under the counter, we as a society have clearly come a long way.

I could have worded that a number of ways. I chose that way. C

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starheadboy: Burien artist gets reflective

by ron evans

I

first discovered Burien artist Starheadboy’s work at a showing at Collapse Gallery in Wenatchee in 2019. I was an immediate fan and over the past couple of years I have followed his output (which is nonstop) on social media and the work is always inspired and inspiring.

His style is distinct and consistent but he still manages to keep you guessing a bit as to what will be coming next. I reached out for a chat about these influences, his techniques, work-ethic and even a little philosophy. Born in Seattle, Starheadboy grew up in the suburbs south of the city.

He’s been drawing since he was a young kid, soaking up influences in the counterculture scene that surrounded him.

“Skateboarding changed my life in my early teens, then underground punk rock music and shows expanded my world further. I expressed all the experience in my drawings. I was scared of painting for some reason and didn’t start until my 21st birthday. I bought a bunch of paint and canvases and I became addicted immediately. The colors, pushing around the paint - I started devoting up to eight hours a day to it and became a self proclaimed hermit.

I built a big body of work pretty quickly and started showing. I was also making hand pressed block prints and stickers.

The stickers started going up around town.

The shows led to collaborations with other artists, doing murals, and live painting with bands. When I moved to Seattle and started going on long walks, the street art stickers followed me. Right now I have this connection to the fine art community, crafty art community, comic based art and street art.”

What are your preferred mediums of choice?

My preferred mediums right now are a trifecta of pen on paper in sketchbooks, acrylic paint on canvas, and digital drawing on an iPad. Who were some of your earlier influences and whose work keeps you jazzed these days?

My influences started out with Warner Bros. cartoons growing up. l loved them.

Bugs Bunny, Wile E. Coyote (my parents thought it was funny that I felt sympathy for Wile E. when he got hurt). Then Marvel Comics, especially Daredevil and The X-men. Late 1980’s skateboarding culture took my mind - the graphics, music - it took over. The street exposure of skateboarding introduced me to punk rock. I loved all of it. Salvador Dali’s works were the first paintings to really hit me. My

grandpa had a print of his and it was intriguing. Graffiti - Keith Haring, Basquiat, Egon Schiele, and Emily Carr. These days, it’s so much and so many. I love so many artists through social media. Everyone is putting out so much incredible work.

Your style is very unique and distinct, talk about how you developed the look of your paintings that -to me- seem to live somewhere between naturalistic illustration and Saturday morning cartoons?

There was a point in my mid-twenties where I was doing cartoony type work and also really darker, more expressive paintings. I thought I’d have to pick one or the other for some reason. I even ended up destroying some sketchbooks of the cartoon work. I quickly realized that I needed both sides and I fully embrace both now. I never get “artist block”; if I am a little burned out on the comic graphic characters, I just move to a series of animals or even landscapes and vice versa.

Do you hope to convey any kind of overall message with your art, or do you just start creating and see what happens?

I think if I have an overall message it is basically just reflective of my life. An imperfect being navigating the surreal expe-

rience of life. The stories that I am most attached to revolve around antiheroes and flawed characters. Most of my themes now are a push toward not punishing ourselves so much with the inner voice.

On the topic of messages, talk about your recent videos of spoken word on social media - they seem very Zen and contemplative yet non-preachy with a ‘shoot from the hip’ sort of vibe.

The new videos came out of my own desire to connect with the creators of work I like. I like to see their thoughts and ideas.

Usually I’ll be out on a walk and an idea will float through my mind and I know someone out there will benefit from it too.

I am definitely a flawed human making my way through all of this, but the little pieces that come through that make things make sense, I want to get that out there for others.

Are you much of a pre-planner in terms of sketching or thumbnails before putting paint to the canvas?

I used to just dive into every piece. I was doing a lot of live painting with bands and it helped so much to be really spontaneous.

In the last couple of years I’ve been drawing things out in pencil first and spending more time honing ideas and images before

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the more permanent lines are painted.

Judging from the amount of new works you post online I feel like I know the answer to this - are you pretty much working every day? And is this your full time job or is there supplemental income keeping the art alive?

I am definitely working all the time, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like a very strange dream. I quit a job in an art store in 2010, then just let my work carry me until around 2015. I ran into this existential crisis where each day I felt I was just stuck in quicksand. I couldn’t move forward and needed to be shocked out of my routines.

I took a warehouse labor job and worked that until the pandemic happened. I left there a year ago for fear of personal safety.

I’ve been back to fully focusing on my artwork, it’s been really incredible.

Do you ever produce comics or long form narrative works?

I have in the past and I loved it. I drew a daily comic called “Perfect Abernathy” for around a year and a half; it was mainly autobiographical. Directly after that, I drew a weekly comic called “Woonsocket”. I really loved that one, the main character didn’t talk very much. All the other strange characters would talk to him. I’ve

started different comics here and there. I love the feel of getting into the narrative of panel comics. I start to see everything around me as material. I miss drawing the comics, I’m hoping the feel of them comes back soon.

What’s the art community like in Burien?

I feel like the art community in all the suburbs around Seattle are growing. Kent, Burien, White Center. People are making great things happen everywhere. When I was growing up, Seattle was the cultural hub. Going there seemed to be the only way to see art and live music.

Has the Covid shutdowns affected your creative flow one way or another?

When the pandemic started, there was definitely some fear of the unknown, especially for personal safety. But I feel like the lockdowns were right in my wheelhouse. I’m used to working on my art, living in sketch pads, drawing and writing.

I didn’t need to find anything to occupy my time, I already have it. My creative output grew with all the new time on my hands. I’m used to staying up until 4:00 am in solitude working as the rest of my family is sleeping. I ramped up my introverted side during the pandy, started

moving all my artwork online and didn’t have to hang or take down shows. I was hanging around three shows a month, I’d been doing that for years and as grateful as I am for all of them, it really took a toll.

Coming out of the pandy, I am focused on showing in only a couple of places; I’d rather spend my time creating at home and putting it online. It feels really good.

Over the years, I’ve had multiple studios that were connected to monthly art walks and an average of two to three shows a month around town. The Seattle area has an amazing artist community and it is so awesome to have an excuse to get together with friends. I’m so grateful for my time especially at the studio space shows, the most recently being The Greenwood Collective in Seattle. The opening night is really just a rad party with friends. Connecting with new people through this whole journey has been so incredible.

Do you have a dream project or collaboration if money and logic were not roadblocks?

A dream project, which I am actively working on, is having a collaboration or even just having work present in some of the cities around the Oregon Coast. Especially Cannon Beach and Astoria. I’ve worked Cannon Beach into the storyline

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of the Burrito Unicorns. I have the landmark “Haystack Rock” in lots of my paintings and designs. Our family would camp along the Oregon Coast when I was growing up and it made a lasting impression.

I’d like to do anything down there from a mural, a show (hopefully multiple) to just having merch in one of the tourist stores.

I am putting as many designs up as I can on my Threadless shop, I signed a contract with them last month to have a design tested in the Spencer’s stores. Threadless is doing a lot of partnerships with different retail, I’d love to see more of my designs get distributed.

Where can people follow your shenanigans online?

My shop is at Starheadboy.Threadless. com. People can follow me on Instagram, I add to that on a daily basis. Facebook, YouTube, Patreon, I have links on my website starheadboy.com. I also have all kinds of work from stickers to paintings available at etsy.com/shop/starheadboy

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A weekday hike by nick carlo

I

t is a beautiful summer’s day in the lovely foothills of the Cascade Mountains. I step onto the trail, like so many times before. The clay dust, mixed with the pollen of the season, wafts up to greet my nose with a sneeze pushed on by the sudden warmth of the Sun. The sky is clear but for a few streamers of cirrus clouds that streak across the stratos. I start the climb.

Near my ankles, tufts of yarrow line my path. I ask if I may take a nibble: a bitter astringency. A dynamic herb, with variable actions, yarrow has long been a staple of the indigenous medicine cabinet. The energy of yarrow is generally considered to be one of boundary protection. As such one of the herb’s primary uses is a topical application to external wounds. However, if ingested it also helps to stem cases of internal bleeding.

Additionally, it is frequently taken in cases of fever as it is a natural antiseptic and analgesic.

As I move along, with the feeling of protection from my furry friend, I notice a strange variety of ball head water-leaf, a tasty green, akin to spinach if boiled down well enough. Am I welcome to harvest? I listen for a response. It’s hard to tell. Perhaps another day. Vetches seem to slither across the sloped earth, tasting the air with a flick of their petaled tongue.

I make my way up the hillside, the ponderosa and lodgepole pines become ever more sparse, making way for the gnarled twists of juniper and sagebrush.

Great spurts of spurge show off the full potential of water efficient succulents in this fairly arid terrain.

Even at this height, the Arrowleaf Balsamroot flourishes its bright sunflowers across the hillside. Between the bunches of spear-like leaves, varieties of Biscuit-

PHOTO BY SARAH SIMS

root intersperse themselves across the ecosystem. The Balsam and Biscuitroots too have a rich history of indigious usage. The roots can be dried, cooked and ground down into a type of flour that would last through the winter when other botanical foodstuffs can become scarce.

Additionally these roots have strong antiviral properties, making them a survivalist staple in this near desert landscape.

As I near the end of my hike, my eyes turn to the airy expanse rising around me. Pairs of crows catch updraughts along the hillside in a way that makes me think that even crows, as urban as they are, still enjoy playing in the freedom of the open sky. Higher up however, adolescent bald eagles, still donning their speckled brown plumage, proudly glide, keeping watch over the valley.

At this point the full experience of this valley hillside is open to me. The wind is strong up at this height. A lone ponderosa stands tall. The running slopes are watercolored with lupines each a different color than the last. The hill sways in an ethereal mist of floral blues and violets, punctuated by the bright starry yellows of the Arrowleaf resonating, storing, and reflecting the flood of Solar energy, raining down upon the valley. A small town sits, down and embanked on the snowmelt-swollen river, like the rocky center of an ancient lake bed. All around it, as if marking out the formerly submerged nutrient rich soil, acres and acres of fruit trees now flood the valley.

To the north, mysterious rock formations jut ominously out of the hillside and beyond them the high peaks of the cascades look down on my perch, their icy caps shimmering as they slowly melt into the waters sparkling just a short hike down the hill. C

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Add to your artist tool kit as we discuss goal setting, making a living as an artist, showing your work, and more.

This event is FREE thanks to funding from the Ellensburg Arts Commission.

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8 questions: katlyn hubner & Rich Stevens

by ron evans

“Served Hot” is coming to Wenatchee for a First Friday opening at Collapse Contemporary Art Gallery. Born from a mutual fascination with the sensuality so often attached to gleaming plastic facades, “Served Hot” is the premier collaborative exhibition of Seattle based artists Katlyn Hubner and Rich Stevens. Employing Barbie dolls as surrogates for humans, Hubner’s work explores archetypal

relationships and the ties that bind with vibrant pop colors that demand their audience’s attention. Harnessing and innovating processes and mediums; Stevens creates a vast range of sparkling consumer-ready art products that defy their handmade origins. Hot colors, hot eats, and hot situations await all visitors. We asked both of the artists 8 Questions.

Katlyn Hubner

Rich stevens

Favorite Artist: Jenny Saville Favorite Band: St. Vincent Favorite Movie: Mandy Favorite Book: a man’s search for meaning by viktor frankl Favorite Quote: “buy the ticket, take the ride.” hunter s. Thompson Your Dream Collaborator: can’t really say I have one since I seem to not paint well with others but there are many people I’d like to hang in their studio with and see their ways One Item You Can’t Live Without: ranch dressing. Hidden valley to be exact. there is no other ranch Favorite Destination: being under water PHOTO BY by PJ Reptilehouse

favorite artist: Caravaggio favorite band: Van halen favorite movie: Brain Candy favorite book: the Doors of Perception by Aldous huxley favorite quote: “An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.” Charles Bukowski dream collaborator: Michael Reeder (reederone) item you can’t live without: glasses favorite destination: Aberdeen, Scotland SERVED HOT OPENS FRIDAY, MAY 7 AT 4PM AT COLLAPSE GALLERY 115 S. WENATCHEE AVE.

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KATLYN HUBNER

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RICH STEVENS

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lumps of clay: the craft of mf pottery

BY RON EVANS

M

ijanou Fortney is a potter and art teacher based in Leavenworth.

She’s the owner and sole employee of MF Pottery, and stationed in a one hundred year old renovated barn at Tierra Learning Center, she produces goods of all sorts out of clay. The polished curves and bold geometry of her pottery portrays a certain confidence and understanding of the craft. And it took her a long time to get where she is.

“It took me a long time to get where I am.”

Told you.

She moved around a lot in her 20s and 30s. Everywhere she lived (ME, CA, MT, UT, WA) she would either find a ceramic studio that was open to the public or take a class at a community college or university, (MSU, College of the Redwoods, USU).

“Between having other jobs and starting a family I always found time to practice throwing pots, experimenting with shapes and forms and learning about surface design and glazing. I learned the production side of pottery while working at Fire Hole Pottery in Bozeman, MT. I started there as an apprentice mopping the floors and packing up pots as they were unloaded from the kiln and by the end of the two plus years I was glazing and making various slab forms. Everything came together when my family moved to Leavenworth. Shortly after we arrived, an opportunity to revive a dormant pottery studio in the “art barn” at Tierra Learning Center arose. I opened the studio to the public and at first I offered beginner pottery classes and open studio access to people who had previous experience.

When I felt like my own work was solid

enough I began to sell pots at the Leavenworth Farmer’s Market. Through word of mouth and community connections I started doing wholesale orders for local businesses. Seven years later I am still learning the trade and trying to grow my business.”

Was it a winding road to arrive at pottery? Were there interests in other art/ craft styles along the way?

I have dabbled with many art forms and mediums for fun but working with clay has been my main thing and the only one I have ever made money doing. I have always loved drawing. My notebooks from high school and college always had more drawings than words. I usually bring a sketchbook and markers around with me.

A few years ago I learned the basics of screenprinting from my friend and artist Kaspar Heinrici. He and his wife Ali came to Leavenworth for a month long Tierra Arts residency. Collaborating with other artists that specialize in different mediums brings me joy and keeps the creativity flowing. During the pandemic I have been experimenting with watercoloring and painting.

What is it that speaks most to you about the process of ceramics?

I studied Anthropology in college and have always been intrigued by the ancestry and continuing evolution of the craft of ceramics. I spend a lot of time thinking about how people have been creating pots all over the world for thousands of years, first as a necessity and then developing into an art. I like taking a lump of clay and turning it into something that someone will use everyday. I like when random people tell me they drink their coffee or tea out of an MF Pottery mug every morning.

Is there one singular part of that process you enjoy maybe a bit more (or less) than others?

There are so many steps in the process of making a pot. Each step requires a type of focus and intentionality. Some steps are more tedious than others. Throwing pots

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on the wheel and carving patterns and designs into the clay are two of my favorite parts of the process. There are times while working on large orders when I start to feel like a machine. In those moments I try to focus on the meditative qualities to the repetitiveness. Loading and unloading the kiln is another part of the process that I enjoy. It is fun finding a way to fit all the pots. It’s like tetris or bagging groceries.

The business and marketing side of the process is my least favorite. I don’t spend enough time working on it and get angsty when I sit down at a computer. I have a lot to learn still in this area.

When working on new ideas do you start with any sketching or plotting in 2D or do you just reach for the clay and see where it goes?

Both. When I sit down with a customer to talk about designs I sketch the idea on paper. When new ideas come to me I will draw them in my sketchbook. From there, I go from the drawing to the clay. It can take many attempts to get the right shape/ size for a new piece. I prototype and fail. I have made so many coffee cones that now have plants in them. I have learned to not get attached.

Are you making (selling) one item more than others?

Mugs. Always mugs, with mountains or bicycles or fish or a logo from a local business. The ‘resist’ mug is still a bestseller.

this summer as well.

I recently saw one of your teapots in Salt Creek Apothecary in Wenatchee.

Is crafting a teapot by hand as tricky as it seems it would be?

Teapots are the ultimate challenge for a potter. They take forever to make. They have so many parts that have to be attached and dried evenly. The teapots at Salt Creek Apothecary are all hand built.

Almost everything else I make is thrown on the wheel.

I have seen company logos and personalized graphics on some of your pottery.

Do you do custom/commissioned work often?

Yes I do custom orders all the time. My product line includes place settings, tea sets, vases, utensil holders, wine chillers, plant pots and other items.

Where do you sell your pieces?

I sell my pots online through instagram and my website and through word of mouth. If you want to buy something from a brick and mortar you can find my pottery at Sage Mountain Natural Foods, Argonaut Espresso Bar, Tumwater Bakery, 97 Rock House, WAHI yoga store, Yodelin, Dilly Dally Yarn Shop/Prey’s Fruit Barn, Salt Creek Apothecary, The Plant Ally, Infuse Organics. I will have a booth at the Leavenworth Farmer’s Market sometime

Do you ever produce works for fine art galleries?

No but maybe someday.

For fellow ceramicists (is that even the term) or tool nerds out there, what kind of clays, tools and other paraphernalia do you typically use?

The white clay I use most is a mix of stoneware and porcelain. It is easy to throw and smooth like butter. This clay is great for carving and creating texture on the piece. The glazes I use work well on the white clay body. I have recently been using a speckled stoneware clay too. The iron speckles show through the lighter color glazes. This clay is great for hand building pieces like teapots or plant hangers. This clay is quite gritty and it tears up

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my hands when I throw too much with it.

Some of my favorite tools are from Diamond Core tools. They make a variety of tools used to carve clay in order to create designs or add texture.

Have you hosted classes on pottery?

One of the great things about this craft is the community that it creates. Unlike with other art forms, most people don’t do pottery at home. They need a studio with the equipment and supplies to go to. Right away when I opened the studio and started teaching, the classes filled up. People who had taken a class in high school or college came in to work independently on their own projects. I have met and connected with so many people through my studio. I share the barn with Mountain Sprouts preschool. I have done a few projects with the kids including tile projects and pressing plants and other things from nature into the clay. I teach after school art classes and workshops to kids of all ages. Older kids can attend the open studio hours and work independently. I have been hosting and teaching participants from the TRAILS (Tierra’s Recreation Arts and Independent Life Skills) Program for the last five or six years (besides

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this past year). The participants are adults with developmental differences and they bring so much creativity to the studio. I don’t even have to teach them anymore, they come with their own ideas and I am there to guide them. My studio and practice has grown and evolved over the last seven years. With all of the interest in classes and studio time, I quickly outgrew the original studio space tucked in the back corner of the barn. Thankfully Mountain Sprouts, the preschool I share the barn with, needed more space too and the barn was remodeled in 2017 to expand the preschool program and the pottery studio. Classes and open studio have been on hold for the last year but in May

the studio will once again be open to the public. There will be classes, workshops, and open studio hours for kids and adults.

I’m looking forward to providing a creative outlet for people again. Creativity through art is such an important piece of mental health and it has been hard to not share my space with people. I have also very much enjoyed the solitude.

Where can people shop or follow your work online? www.mfpottery.com www.instagram.com/mf_pottery/ C

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Radical Medicine legends of washington

COMES TO LEMOLO

By Loni McKenzie

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’m a sucker for a good ‘overthrow the authority’ movement. Rebels, radicals, and activists who are sick of injustice, oppression and exploitation; these are my people. Except I’m shy, and don’t really like crowds. My rebel spirit is strong, it’s just kind of an introvert. Most of my radical, smash the patriarchy work takes place quietly, in the garden.

I’m a plant medicine maker, and keeper of medicinal gardens. Normal, everyday plants that support our bodies and spirits. Many of them I don’t even cultivate.

They grow themselves, wild around the edges of yards, gardens, paths and fields.

Eating, growing and using these plants makes me a little wild around the edges too, more willing to break rules that need broken and do what I want. I’ll bloom wherever I damn well please, thank you very much.

Despite all attempts at eradication, dandelions and their rebellious buddies are still here. Popping up and thriving, whether they’re welcome or not. Hanging out, doing their work, maintaining biodiversity and character amongst the homogenized, high maintenance yards and public spaces. They don’t make a big deal out of it, but they’ve made themselves clear. They do belong here.

Wild plants are a much-needed lesson in resilience. I’ve been intrigued by the idea of ‘you are what you eat.’ These

plants are scrappy enough to take root in an abandoned field, and tough enough to thrive without any human coddling. They don’t need us, but it turns out, we might need them. They could be exactly what we need to remember our radical roots.

Right now, I’m especially in love with bitter plants. When speaking of emotions, bitter isn’t too pleasant, walking hand in hand with resentment, disappointment and anger. Bitter plants though, are some of the sweethearts of plant medicine and have been used for millennia to balance the digestive and nervous systems. Good ol’ dandelion is the most common, reliable, easy to find and identify bitter. The whole plant is edible; leaves in salads, flowers fried up as fritters, roots roasted and brewed into tea. Each time I see one, popping up in a lawn where I know they’re not wanted*, waving its victory flag bloom, I take heart. We too are resilient. We too can overcome oppression and injustice. We too can be humble, persistent and scrappy revolutionaries. *Obviously don’t eat the ones that grow in THOSE lawns. You know, pesticides.

Loni McKenzie, LMP - Licensed massage therapist, structural integration specialist and flower essence practitioner at Mission Health & Wellness. c

For the months of May and June, Wenatchee artist Charity Nelson will be displaying her new collection at Lemolo titled, “Legends of Washington.”

These pieces feature some recognizable myths, cryptids, urban legends, and famous people hailing from Washington.

Each piece is done in Nelson’s unique form of mixed-media wood art, and includes every element; earth, air, fire and water.

Her chosen canvas is a plain slab of wood that she transforms into a one-of-akind piece of art, through dremeling, painting, and burning.

The show opens May 4th at Lemolo at 114 N. Wenatchee Ave. and will remain on display through June. Nelson will be adding or swapping out pieces over the weeks as well.

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THE DEFEAT OF YOUTH I. UNDER THE TREES. here had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes Of this and this occasion, sisterly In their resemblances, each effigy Crowned with the same bright hair above the nape’s White rounded firmness, and each body alert With such swift loveliness, that very rest Seemed a poised movement: ... phantoms that impressed But a faint influence and could bless or hurt No more than dreams. And these ghost things were she; For formless still, without identity, Not one she seemed, not clear, but many and dim.

One face among the legions of the street, Indifferent mystery, she was for him Something still uncreated, incomplete.

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II. Bright windy sunshine and the shadow of cloud Quicken the heavy summer to new birth Of life and motion on the drowsing earth; The huge elms stir, till all the air is loud With their awakening from the muffled sleep Of long hot days. And on the wavering line That marks the alternate ebb of shade and shine, Under the trees, a little group is deep In laughing talk. The shadow as it flows Across them dims the lustre of a rose, Quenches the bright clear gold of hair, the green Of a girl’s dress, and life seems faint. The light Swings back, and in the rose a fire is seen, Gold hair’s aflame and green grows emerald bright.

III. She leans, and there is laughter in the face She turns towards him; and it seems a door Suddenly opened on some desolate place With a burst of light and music. What before Was hidden shines in loveliness revealed.

Now first he sees her beautiful, and knows That he must love her; and the doom is sealed Of all his happiness and all the woes That shall be born of pregnant years hereafter.

The swift poise of a head, a flutter of laughter— And love flows in on him, its vastness pent Within his narrow life: the pain it brings, Boundless; for love is infinite discontent With the poor lonely life of transient things.

IV. Men see their god, an immanence divine, Smile through the curve of flesh or moulded clay, In bare ploughed lands that go sloping away To meet the sky in one clean exquisite line.

Out of the short-seen dawns of ecstasy They draw new beauty, whence new thoughts are born And in their turn conceive, as grains of corn Germ and create new life and endlessly Shall live creating. Out of earthly seeds Springs the aerial flower. One spirit proceeds

Through change, the same in body and in soul— The spirit of life and love that triumphs still In its slow struggle towards some far-off goal Through lust and death and the bitterness of will.

V. One spirit it is that stirs the fathomless deep Of human minds, that shakes the elms in storm, That sings in passionate music, or on warm Still evenings bosoms forth the tufted sleep Of thistle-seeds that wait a travelling wind.

One spirit shapes the subtle rhythms of thought And the long thundering seas; the soul is wrought Of one stuff with the body—matter and mind Woven together in so close a mesh That flowers may blossom into a song, that flesh May strangely teach the loveliest holiest things To watching spirits. Truth is brought to birth Not in some vacant heaven: its beauty springs From the dear bosom of material earth.

VI. IN THE HAY-LOFT. The darkness in the loft is sweet and warm With the stored hay ... darkness intensified By one bright shaft that enters through the wide Tall doors from under fringes of a storm Which makes the doomed sun brighter. On the hay, Perched mountain-high they sit, and silently Watch the motes dance and look at the dark sky And mark how heartbreakingly far away And yet how close and clear the distance seems, While all at hand is cloud—brightness of dreams Unrealisable, yet seen so clear, So only just beyond the dark. They wait, Scarce knowing what they wait for, half in fear; Expectance draws the curtain from their fate.

VII. The silence of the storm weighs heavily On their strained spirits: sometimes one will say Some trivial thing as though to ward away Mysterious powers, that imminently lie In wait, with the strong exorcising grace Of everyday’s futility. Desire Becomes upon a sudden a crystal fire, Defined and hard:—If he could kiss her face, Could kiss her hair! As if by chance, her hand Brushes on his ... Ah, can she understand?

Or is she pedestalled above the touch Of his desire? He wonders: dare he seek From her that little, that infinitely much?

And suddenly she kissed him on the cheek.

VIII. MOUNTAINS. A stronger gust catches the cloud and twists A spindle of rifted darkness through its heart, A gash in the damp grey, which, thrust apart, Reveals black depths a moment. Then the mists Shut down again; a white uneasy sea Heaves round the climbers and beneath their feet.

He strains on upwards through the wind and sleet, Poised, or swift moving, or laboriously Lifting his weight. And if he should let go, What would he find down there, down there below The curtain of the mist? What would he find Beyond the dim and stifling now and here, Beneath the unsettled turmoil of his mind?

Oh, there were nameless depths: he shrank with fear.

IX. The hills more glorious in their coat of snow Rise all around him, in the valleys run Bright streams, and there are lakes that catch the sun, And sunlit fields of emerald far below That seem alive with inward light. In smoke The far horizons fade; and there is peace On everything, a sense of blessed release From wilful strife. Like some prophetic cloak The spirit of the mountains has descended On all the world, and its unrest is ended.

Even the sea, glimpsed far away, seems still, Hushed to a silver peace its storm and strife.

Mountains of vision, calm above fate and will, You hold the promise of the freer life.

X. IN THE LITTLE ROOM. London unfurls its incense-coloured dusk Before the panes, rich but a while ago With the charred gold and the red ember-glow Of dying sunset. Houses quit the husk Of secrecy, which, through the day, returns A blank to all enquiry: but at nights The cheerfulness of fire and lamp invites The darkness inward, curious of what burns With such a coloured life when all is dead— The daylight world outside, with overhead White clouds, and where we walk, the blaze Of wet and sunlit streets, shops and the stream Of glittering traffic—all that the nights erase, Colour and speed, surviving but in dream.

XI. Outside the dusk, but in the little room All is alive with light, which brightly glints On curving cup or the stiff folds of chintz, Evoking its own whiteness. Shadows loom, Bulging and black, upon the walls, where hang Rich coloured plates of beauties that appeal Less to the sense of sight than to the feel, So moistly satin are their breasts. A pang, Almost of pain, runs through him when he sees Hanging, a homeless marvel, next to these, The silken breastplate of a mandarin, Centuries dead, which he had given her.

Exquisite miracle, when men could spin Jay’s wing and belly of the kingfisher!

XII. In silence and as though expectantly She crouches at his feet, while he caresses

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BY ALDOUS HUXLEY His light-drawn fingers with the touch of tresses Sleeked round her head, close-banded lustrously, Save where at nape and temple the smooth brown Sleaves out into a pale transparent mist Of hair and tangled light. So to exist, Poised ‘twixt the deep of thought where spirits drown Life in a void impalpable nothingness, And, on the other side, the pain and stress Of clamorous action and the gnawing fire Of will, focal upon a point of earth—even thus To sit, eternally without desire And yet self-known, were happiness for us.

XIII. She turns her head and in a flash of laughter Looks up at him: and helplessly he feels That life has circled with returning wheels Back to a starting-point. Before and after Merge in this instant, momently the same: For it was thus she leaned and laughing turned When, manifest, the spirit of beauty burned In her young body with an inward flame, And first he knew and loved her. In full tide Life halts within him, suddenly stupefied.

Sight blackness, lightning-struck; but blindly tender He draws her up to meet him, and she lies Close folded by his arms in glad surrender, Smiling, and with drooped head and half closed eyes.

XIV. “I give you all; would that I might give more.”

He sees the colour dawn across her cheeks And die again to white; marks as she speaks The trembling of her lips, as though she bore Some sudden pain and hardly mastered it.

Within his arms he feels her shuddering, Piteously trembling like some wild wood-thing Caught unawares. Compassion infinite Mounts up within him. Thus to hold and keep And comfort her distressed, lull her to sleep And gently kiss her brow and hair and eyes Seems love perfected—templed high and white Against the calm of golden autumn skies, And shining quenchlessly with vestal light.

XV. But passion ambushed by the aerial shrine Comes forth to dance, a hoofed obscenity, His satyr’s dance, with laughter in his eye, And cruelty along the scarlet line Of his bright smiling mouth. All uncontrolled, Love’s rebel servant, he delights to beat The maddening quick dry rhythm of goatish feet Even in the sanctuary, and makes bold To mime himself the godhead of the place.

He turns in terror from her trance-calmed face, From the white-lidded languor of her eyes, From lips that passion never shook before, But glad in the promise of her sacrifice:

“I give you all; would that I might give more.”

XVI. He is afraid, seeing her lie so still, So utterly his own; afraid lest she Should open wide her eyes and let him see The passionate conquest of her virgin will Shine there in triumph, starry-bright with tears.

He thrusts her from him: face and hair and breast, Hands he had touched, lips that his lips had pressed, Seem things deadly to be desired. He fears Lest she should body forth in palpable shame Those dreams and longings that his blood, aflame Through the hot dark of summer nights, had dreamed And longed. Must all his love, then, turn to this?

Was lust the end of what so pure had seemed?

He must escape, ah God! her touch, her kiss.

XVII. IN THE PARK. Laughing, “To-night,” I said to him, “the Park Has turned the garden of a symbolist.

Those old great trees that rise above the mist, Gold with the light of evening, and the dark Still water, where the dying sun evokes An echoed glory—here I recognize Those ancient gardens mirrored by the eyes Of poets that hate the world of common folks, Like you and me and that thin pious crowd, Which yonder sings its hymns, so humbly proud Of holiness. The garden of escape Lies here; a small green world, and still the bride Of quietness, although an imminent rape Roars ceaselessly about on every side.”

XVIII. I had forgotten what I had lightly said, And without speech, without a thought I went, Steeped in that golden quiet, all content To drink the transient beauty as it sped Out of eternal darkness into time To light and burn and know itself a fire; Yet doomed—ah, fate of the fulfilled desire!— To fade, a meteor, paying for the crime Of living glorious in the denser air Of our material earth. A strange despair, An agony, yet strangely, subtly sweet And tender as an unpassionate caress, Filled me ... Oh laughter! youth’s conceit Grown almost conscious of youth’s feebleness!

XIX. He spoke abrupt across my dream: “Dear Garden, A stranger to your magic peace, I stand Beyond your walls, lost in a fevered land Of stones and fire. Would that the gods would harden My soul against its torment, or would blind Those yearning glimpses of a life at rest In perfect beauty—glimpses at the best Through unpassed bars. And here, without, the wind

Of scattering passion blows: and women pass Glitter-eyed down putrid alleys where the glass Of some grimed window suddenly parades— Ah, sickening heart-beat of desire!—the grace Of bare and milk-warm flesh: the vision fades, And at the pane shows a blind tortured face.”

XX. SELF-TORMENT. The days pass by, empty of thought and will: His thought grows stagnant at its very springs, With every channel on the world of things Dammed up, and thus, by its long standing still, Poisons itself and sickens to decay.

All his high love for her, his fair desire, Loses its light; and a dull rancorous fire, Burning darkness and bitterness that prey Upon his heart are left. His spirit burns Sometimes with hatred, or the hatred turns To a fierce lust for her, more cruel than hate, Till he is weary wrestling with its force: And evermore she haunts him, early and late, As pitilessly as an old remorse.

XXI. Streets and the solitude of country places Were once his friends. But as a man born blind, Opening his eyes from lovely dreams, might find The world a desert and men’s larval faces So hateful, he would wish to seek again The darkness and his old chimeric sight Of beauties inward—so, that fresh delight, Vision of bright fields and angelic men, That love which made him all the world, is gone.

Hating and hated now, he stands alone, An island-point, measureless gulfs apart From other lives, from the old happiness Of being more than self, when heart to heart Gave all, yet grew the greater, not the less.

XXII. THE QUARRY IN THE WOOD. Swiftly deliberate, he seeks the place.

A small wind stirs, the copse is bright in the sun: Like quicksilver the shine and shadow run Across the leaves. A bramble whips his face, The tears spring fast, and through the rainbow mist He sees a world that wavers like the flame Of a blown candle. Tears of pain and shame, And lips that once had laughed and sung and kissed Trembling in the passion of his sobbing breath!

The world a candle shuddering to its death, And life a darkness, blind and utterly void Of any love or goodness: all deceit, This friendship and this God: all shams destroyed, And truth seen now.

Earth fails beneath his feet.

Originally published in 1918.

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THE MARK OF THE BEAST

Georgian Britain’s Anti-Vaxxer Movement

Erica X Eisen

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he ox-faced boy who stared out from the opening page of Dr William Rowley’s pamphlet possessed strangely elongated eyes, one bloodshot and one healthy. His right cheek was reddish, while the entire left side of his face was so massively swollen that it knocked the contours of the boy’s healthy features off kilter. Several pages later, a portrait of the Mange Girl, a child of perhaps four years of age, looks out pitifully to readers, the skin from her cheek to her hip covered with clusters of painful-looking sores. The conditions of these children — and (supposedly) of thousands of others across Britain — were not, the accompanying literature warned, symptoms of any natural human ailment. Rather, they were the results of the recently developed smallpox vaccine, which Rowley said exposed recipients to “the diseases of beasts, filthy in their very nature and appearance, in the face, eyes, ears, with blindness and deafness, spreading their baneful influence over the whole body.”

Rowley was a prominent figure in nineteenth-century England’s anti-vaccine movement, the earliest predecessor to today’s anti-vaxxers. Several years before Rowley published his vitriolic pamphlet, Edward Jenner’s discovery of a vaccine against smallpox had caused a public health revolution and birthed the field of immunology as a discipline — but it also came decades before germ theory

was known to scientists. As a result, even those who embraced Jenner’s vaccine lacked the conceptual framework needed to understand precisely how it worked.

This gap between evidence and explanation allowed doubts to suppurate and spread as clergy, members of parliament, workers, and even doctors voiced their opposition to the vaccine on religious, ethical, and scientific grounds. Jenner’s supporters saw it as their moral duty to advance the cause of a life-saving technology; their opponents felt an equally strong moral obligation to put a halt to vaccination at all costs. In the decades following Jenner’s discovery, this conflict would play out bitterly in newspapers, in artwork, and even in the streets as both sides battled for the body and soul of Britain.

Living as we do at a time when the sudden emergence of a new virus has drastically altered the normal patterns of life, it can be difficult to imagine an environment where epidemic disease was the norm. Prior to the advent of vaccination, smallpox was widespread, deadly, and all but untreatable given the state of medical knowledge at the time. Roughly one third of those who contracted smallpox did not survive; those who did often bore grim reminders of the disease for the rest of their lives. It could leave victims blind; it could reach down to their bones and render joints and limbs permanently deformed. And it left the vast majority of its victims’ faces scarred with the telltale pitted pockmarks, sometimes severely:

historian Matthew L. Newsome Kerr estimates that “probably one-fourth to onehalf of the population [of Britain] was visibly marked in some way by smallpox prior to 1800”.

Folk wisdom, meanwhile, had long observed that those who worked closely with livestock possessed a strange resistance to the disease even as it ravaged the communities around them. Jenner, a country doctor, decided to put this idea to a formal test. In 1798, he lanced a sore on milkmaid Sarah Nelmes’ hand and injected the resultant lymph into the arm of his gardener’s son, James Phipps. A week later, Jenner exposed the boy to smallpox to see if he would get sick: as Jenner had hypothesized, the boy remained healthy.

Just a year later, the first mass trials of the smallpox vaccine were already underway. (The preserved hide of Nelmes’ cow, Blossom, now resides in the library of St. George’s, a medical school in London.)

Jenner’s experiment had succeeded because the odd sores on Nelmes’ hand were symptoms of cowpox, a much less dangerous cousin of the smallpox virus that caused pustules on the hands but generally left its victims unharmed. The two pathogens were similar enough that exposure to cowpox effectively primed the body’s defenses against smallpox as well. Cowpox infections — and the immunity that came with them — were frequently transferred to dairy workers after they touched the udders of infected animals: indeed, the name Jenner chose

for this therapy, vaccination, derives ultimately from the Latin word for cow (vacca). And crucially, as Jenner demonstrated, cowpox could also be transferred by lancing a human’s sores and injecting the fluid into another person — the socalled “arm to arm” method, which guaranteed a virtually inexhaustible supply of the vaccine even in urban areas far from the nearest dairy meadow.

But Jenner would not have been able to explain the workings of his discovery if asked: at the time, it was thought that smallpox was transmitted via poisoned air, or miasma, and the precise mechanisms of immune response were still unknown to science. As growing numbers of people embraced the vaccine, opposition began to coalesce. For these skeptics, the very notion of injecting a substance that ultimately derived from a diseased animal into a healthy human seemed not merely absurd but a serious peril to public health. Rowley’s scaremongering pamphlet warned that those who received the vaccine risked developing “evil, blotches, ulcers, and mortification”, among other “beastly” diseases.

With the second edition of his pamphlet, a new illustration entered the menagerie of cowpox victims: Ann Davis, an elderly woman who upon receiving her dose had allegedly sprouted horns.

Others focused on the supposed cognitive effects of cowpox: Halket admitted that Rowley’s lurid accounts were perhaps far-fetched but nonetheless insisted that so-called “mental horns and cloven

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hoofs too frequently shoot out”, a metaphor for the “insurmountable stupidity [that] has been observed in some children from the time they were vaccinated, no symptom of which appeared prior to that time”. One of Jenner’s fiercest opponents, Benjamin Moseley, penned a tirade against the cowpox-derived vaccine in which he warned of its effects not only upon the body but also upon the mind: Who knows, besides, what ideas may rise, in the course of time, from a brutal fever having excited its incongruous impressions on the brain?

Who knows, also, but that the human character may undergo strange mutations from quadrupedan sympathy; and that some modern Pasiphaë may rival the fables of old?

Readers well versed in classics would have recognized this last line as a thinly veiled reference to bestiality: Pasiphaë, according to Greek myth, was the Cretan queen who gave birth to the Minotaur after having sex with a bull, driven to strange lust by a curse from Poseidon.

Rowley plays with a similar innuendo in his pamphlet when he wonders whether receiving the vaccine could violate the biblical injunction against lying with an animal. Cowpox would go on to become tightly linked to syphilis (which in the past had often been referred to as “pox”) in the popular imagination, with rumors circulating that cattle contracted cowpox through contact with syphilitic milkmaids. These concerns were not allayed by the poor sanitation and medical standards that sometimes characterized the public vaccination hospitals created to serve Britain’s urban poor: at such places, the vaccines made available to patients often came not directly from cows but from the pustules of vaccinated children in the area, who may or may not have received a thorough medical check before being lanced for their “donation”.

As a result, parents were not wholly unjustified in their fears that an injection meant to ward off one deadly disease might simply lead to their child being infected with another one.

The satirist James Gillray channeled these popular anxieties about the monstrous aspects of the vaccine in his 1802 cartoon The Cow Pock—or—the Wonderful Effects of the New Inoculation!

At the center, Jenner is seen delivering a rather vicious gouge to a woman’s arm with his lancet as all around her the previous vaccine recipients undergo horrible transformations: miniature cows erupt from boils and climb out of mouths, while women sprout horns and give birth to calves on the spot. That same year, Charles Williams published an antivaccine engraving in which doctors (all of whom have sprouted tails and horns) are arrayed before the maw of a cow-like monster covered in suppurating pustules.

A £10,000 check protruding from a back pocket identifies one of these chimerical doctors as Jenner, who had received a cash reward from the government in recognition of his contributions to medicine.

Only now he is transformed from medic into mercenary, shoveling babies with his colleagues into the beast’s gaping jaws and waiting for them to be excreted with horns. In the distance, anti-vaccine doctors bearing the weapons of truth approach to do battle with the creature and the doctors who feed it.

Particularly in the early days, some objected to the vaccine on religious grounds, arguing that vaccination was a hubristic attempt to evade divine punishment. Similar arguments had been made surrounding the earlier technique of variolation, in which healthy people were deliberately exposed to the smallpox virus with the goal of bringing on a mild case of the disease that would nevertheless confer immunity. In 1721, when the Massachusetts Bay Colony was struck by a severe smallpox outbreak, Puritan leaders fiercely debated (and ultimately decided in favor of) the permissibility of variolation, which the preacher Cotton Mather argued had been put into humankind’s hands by God. A century later, theological debates about preventative medicine raged on: “The Small Pox is a visitation from God”, Rowley wrote, “but the Cow Pox is produced by presumptuous man: the former was what heaven ordained, the latter is, perhaps, a daring violation of our holy religion”.

“Methuselah and his antediluvian contemporaries were not vaccinated which fully accounts for their coming to such a sudden and untimely end”, Halket noted caustically “The Creator stamped on man the divine image, but Jenner placed on

him the mark of the beast”. Cartoonists frequently depicted the cowpox-derived vaccine as a golden calf that would be the downfall of modern society at the hands of those who foolishly embraced its worship.

But while skepticism towards the vaccine was present from the beginning, the vitriol of the attacks against the cowpox method and its proponents would vastly expand in the mid-1800s, when parliament passed multiple laws making vaccination compulsory, providing free vaccination for the poor, and creating a system of punishments for those who failed to get the shot. These new measures made the question of vaccination impossible to ignore — and many saw such laws as an unacceptable abrogation of their personal liberties by the state. In popular writing, vaccines were compared to tattoos or brands (particularly owing to the scar left by the injection), and those who resisted getting them histrionically compared themselves to fugitive slaves.

Across Britain, anti-vaccination societies organized mutual aid funds to defray the fines incurred by their members for refusing to vaccinate their children; if working-class vaccine objectors had their property seized as punishment, sympathizers would loudly protest at the auction, sometimes even assaulting the auctioneer. Contemporary newspapers described effigies of Jenner or public vaccine authorities being burned; in Leicester, a hotbed of resistance to the cowpox method, an anti-vaccine carnival drew as many as 100,000 demonstrators and prompted a parliamentary commission to review the vaccination laws.

But proponents of using cowpox didn’t take all of this sitting down. As many were quick to point out, a number of the leading voices in the anti-vaccination movement had a major financial interest in stopping Jenner’s discovery from catching on. Indeed, both Moseley and Rowley had previously practiced variolation, which prior to Jenner had been considered the best way to prevent a serious case of smallpox. But the technique was riskier than vaccination — both to the patient and to those around them, who were likely to get infected by the convalescing patient. Once among the most common medical procedures in Britain, vari-

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olation was under serious threat from its new competitor even before parliament banned it completely in the mid-1800s.

As such, when doctors like Moseley were penning screeds against the smallpox vaccine, they weren’t just trying to defend their readers — they were also trying to defend their stream of income.

Precisely this point was made by Isaac Cruikshank in an 1808 satirical print that depicts Jenner and his colleagues banishing variolators from the land. The latter group, hefting massive bloody knives over their shoulders, openly proclaim their desire to spread the disease further as they walk past the corpses of smallpox victims. At the far right of the cartoon, a milkmaid pipes up: “Surley [sic] the disorder of the cow is preferable to that of the ass.”

Jenner himself would make similar accusations when he decided to defend his ideas and his honor in print, pseudonymously publishing a rebuttal to Rowley, the cover of which was emblazoned with its own version of the ox-faced boy.

Jenner’s words for those who attack the cowpox method in order to protect their own financial interests are scathing; nevertheless, he writes, “I trust that the good sense of the people of England will feel the injury, and know how to repel it as they ought.” Two hundred years later, however, attempts to discredit the safety and reliability of vaccination — whether against measles or against COVID — persist. The arguments made by today’s anti-vaxxers often echo those put forth by their nineteenth-century antecedents: claims of inefficacy, allegations of ghastly side effects, appeals to religion.

Jenner seems likely to have assumed that the benefits of vaccination would be so self-evident that they would shut down all debate. That many continue to assail the safety and reliability of the method he pioneered, not only decades but centuries later, is something that, in all likelihood, the doctor never could have imagined.

This article was originally published in The Public Domain Review under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0. If you wish to reuse it please see: https://publicdomainreview.org/legal/

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may 2021

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How Bizarre: linda godfrey’s ‘monsters among us’

by ron evans

W

isconsin’s Linda Godfrey has been writing about monsters, legends and cryptids for over a decade now and she’s become one of the most well known experts on these mysterious critters of... mystery. Appearing on all the big kooky shows like Coast To Coast AM regularly, I always enjoyed her genuine nature concerning this quirky offshoot of naturalistic investigation. I especially liked that she takes her work seriously but didn’t take herself too seriously. A rarity in the paranormal world. I got to chat with Linda about her interests in spooky things, her books, cartooning and all kinds of monsters.

So what got you interested in studying and reporting on strange creatures?

Well you know, I’ve always liked these kinds of things and my dad was into sci fi. He always had all the paperbacks with aliens on the covers. And I was the only girl I knew who ever got in trouble in school for reading Mad Magazine inside my math book. I just liked that kind of thing - and I loved cartooning. I actually have an art education degree and I really wanted to be a cartoonist. To worm my way into the cartoon department, I got a job at this newspaper. And one of my first assignments was this creature the locals

were claiming to see that looked to them like a werewolf out on a particular road outside of town. And I thought, huh, that’s really strange. I thought it was probably a joke or a hoax at first. But when I poked around a little, I found that our county animal control officer had a manilla file folder, which he showed me, that was labeled “werewolf.” He was collecting all the names and contact information of people who called him and were saying, “I saw this thing...I don’t know what it was. But if there was such a thing as a werewolf, this would be it.” Now when you’ve got a county official with a manila file folder in his office, marked “werewolves”... there’s just no going back from that. I had to write the story - the story came out - it went national within weeks.

And this was back in 1990, before we had the internet. It went out on AP, and then Inside Edition came out and I was on the radio everywhere - all of a sudden - and it just never stopped. Even 10 years later.

I said wow, everybody’s still crazy interested in this. Maybe I should write it all down in something. So I wrote my first book on Wisconsin, The Poison Widow, and the publisher said, “well...what else have you got?” I said...would you believe werewolves?

Having a journalistic background, do you ever find it tricky to straddle a good balance between journalistic responsibility, and maybe just indulging in the love for the lore of these reports?

I don’t embellish - I don’t believe it’s necessary. You know, the things that these people are reporting are quite interesting in themselves. And rather than embellish their story, what I do is I dig deeper into the area, the geography, the geology, the human cultural artifacts that might surround this area, and look for deeper roots to the story. So that is what I think brings the extra value to my books, and what helps people to maybe see the stories in some sort of stream of reality. Not that I know what that reality is necessarily. But the other thing I also try to do is to keep my reporter hat on. I play my own devil’s advocate. For instance, early on I noticed that there always seemed to be a freshwater source very close to most of these dog man sightings or mammals, or whatever you want to call them. And I thought, well, you know, it’s true that the Native Americans in the area have told me that they believed that the Spirit Creatures would come out of fresh springs from the water, and that these were sacred areas. And so you would find the connection with the creatures and the water for sacred purpos-

es. But then I thought, well, they are also appearing to be large, wolf-like predators.

Wolves eat mostly protein, quite a lot of protein. And in order to digest protein, you have to have a lot of water. And also the waterways provide lots of cover for small game. And so, they’re also a food source to any sort of predators. So right there, you’ve got three different ways to interpret that one consistent observation of the water.

So what do you think these dog men are? Because even Hollywood isn’t terribly consistent with what a werewolf is. Do they get bit by a haunted dog? Is it a curse by a witch? A parasite from cleaning a cat-box? What is the true legend that you believe these things are?

Well, concerning being bitten and turning into one...the consensus is pretty much that it came about back in the 1930s in the early werewolf movies, you know, the Lon Chaney Jr. era. It doesn’t really have a long historic background to it. But what I finally come down to after all these years is that people may not always be seeing the same thing when they see some sort of large unknown canine.

There are some that look more humanoid than others. Most of the ones that are re-

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ported are said to just look like oversized timberwolves running on their hind legs.

They’re completely canine, they may be larger, they may look a little different than yours. They’re shaggy. And they have this sort of uncanny means of connecting with the witnesses which people find really frightening and freaky. But other than that, it’s not like they have part human faces or heads. They don’t look like Lon Chaney, having just spotted fur. They have big, long snouts, and pointed ears on top of their heads and they walk on their toe pads, most importantly, because that is really, really difficult for a human to duplicate. It’s just a completely different leg structure. I can’t rule out that there are different origins for all of them.

You helped write Weird Wisconsin and Weird Michigan, part of “Weird U.S.” series spearheaded by Mark Moran and Mark Scarman. Curious how this came about, do they just go look for people that know about all the weird shit in any given place?

Yeah, I think that’s basically what they do. Because at the time that they contacted me, I actually had written The Beast of Bray Road. I’ve been collecting weird things for 10 years from the newspaper that I worked at - things that were too weird for the newspaper. And so I was putting these stories out. And I had a coauthor for the Weird Wisconsin book, Richard Hendricks, who had a site called Weird Wisconsin. And so they contacted both of us and asked if we would co-author the Weird Wisconsin book. I said I would like dibs on all the states shaped like mittens. So they graciously allowed me to write Weird Michigan as well. And that was just wild fun. One of my favorite legends of all is The Michigan Dog Man. And by the time I wrote Weird Michigan, I was well into the unknown upright canine research so that was probably number one. That and the Bigfoot. Lots and lots of Bigfoot sightings in Michigan.

And then the other thing that is close to my heart that I really, really love about Michigan are the super funky, visionary artists that you see. Wisconsin and Michigan are both particularly rich in junk artists that go out and collect old rusty junk

and then solder it back into fantastic creatures. Oh, Michigan also has the famous melonheads legend. Around Saugatuck and the south western part of the Lower Peninsula, you find the melonheads and they’re supposed to reside at this old wonderful mansion that used to be kind of a sanatorium for deformed children.

And then of course, one day the children escaped and they have run wild in the woods ever since and still kind of haunt the place.

And then in Wisconsin, we have the little people called the Haunchies that live not too far from Milwaukee just kind of on the outskirts of a big lake on a road called, believe it or not, Mystic Lane. They’re supposed to guard their little place where they live with a regular sized person driving a big black truck and carrying a rifle, who comes out to shoot anybody who gets too close. And if he misses then all the Haunchies come out of the corner with little miniature rakes and shovels and hoes and try to beat the person to death. So that’s the legend.

Bigfoot, werewolves, melonheads... whatever we’re talking about, people don’t believe in a thing until they do.

My dad’s a lifelong hunter and he would never give the notion of Bigfoot the time of day, but a few years ago he saw something in the woods that left him at least open to the idea. Do you find it hard to open people’s minds when it comes to this stuff?

Oh, yes. There are a lot of people who are very, very closed to the idea. You know, and they’ll say outright, I don’t believe it, unless I can see it, taste it, feel it, smell it, or hear it. But think of something as simple as a dog whistle - how there are areas that we can’t hear sound waves - that we can’t hear what other animals and instruments that we’ve invented can detect.

So we know right away, there are tons of things that we can’t hear that nonetheless, exist.

You write in your book Monsters Among Us about something called the Hell Mouth. What the hell is a Hell Mouth?

Well, I’m enough of a nerd to be sort

of a Buffy/Angel Josh Whedon fan, and they use that term hell mouth. I probably got indoctrinated with it from watching those. But it exists elsewhere too. And, you know, right from the very earliest tales of different worldwide religions, you have ideas that down in the earth is this separate place, this different place, that’s either full of fire or full of rivers. So, the word hell would not have been used universally, but that idea of this place that was just sort of a limbo or its own place where things that you don’t wanna meet live. And the idea of this underground, unknown realm that we can get to or that things can come up from has persisted.

Archaeologists are continually finding new places. I saw on the news just the other day where they had found this complete, huge subterranean city under another known city area. So yeah and many even think these places may have inspired the idea of a hell, or what it could be like.

The idea that there are monsters in hell and the fire, that varies from culture to culture. But it’s still an overall very common idea among humanity.

Right over the hill from us near Ellensburg is the Manastash Ridge where the famous legend of Mel’s Hole (alleged to be a bottomless pit that was later taken over by the military - a classic legend from the Art Bell show) hails from. Do you know if this hole is thought to be a hell mouth?

I’ve heard of that story but I’m not terribly familiar with any of the details about that one.

With these cryptid creatures, do you feel that we’re dealing with flesh and blood critters? Or do you at least entertain the idea of a more supernatural, maybe even spiritual origin for some of these cases?

Yes, and yes. Which, I know, isn’t a very satisfying answer. But I can make cases based on people’s encounters and reports for either one. When I’m just trying to think well, how can you explain the fact that so many of these cryptids are obviously large and heavy enough to leave footprints and they can leave behind hairs, perhaps some type of scat sample

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- it certainly seems like a real living creature, and you know that these are solid forms. On the other hand, there are lots of good witnesses saying they felt that they had seen the creatures go invisible or followed tracks that just stopped in the middle of a field and ended and there was no place for anything to have gone. It had just ended. In a snowfield where something would have had to have shown where it went if it was a normal creature, and often in association with weird lights and with UFOs. And I thought, well, I can’t keep ignoring this sort of report, just because it doesn’t fit into my own preconceptions.

Sometimes a creature seems completely real, and flesh and blood and then it can sort of slide away or some people have witnessed them turning into balls of light, which sounds completely cuckoo, but you have these kinds of reports from all over the world.

Let’s talk about Hag Writers.

Well, this is something that modern psychologists related to the phenomenon of sleep paralysis, which is - when we are in deep sleep, our bodies naturally go into sort of a quieted state where our muscles aren’t reacting to what we’re seeing in our dream so that if we’re dreaming about punching somebody in the nose, we aren’t actually punching anybody in bed with us. However, there is a newer school of thought that says no, these are not hallucinations. That it’s not sleep paralysis. There’s something else we don’t understand. And yet it’s a very universal thing that the old hag writer term refers to waking up in the middle of the night and you’re unable to move. And something that looks like a very frightening person, either female or male, is usually sitting on the person’s chest preventing them from breathing. And they feel like they’re going to suffocate and usually with great difficulty are able to wake up and then it goes away. But it’s not always an old crotchety looking human...sometimes it’s a creature.

Follow Godfrey’s ongoing investigations or purchase her books at lindagodfrey.com C

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may 2021

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Well here we are. And here you are.

Aries - Fuck it.

Taurus - Oh, good for you.

Gemini - Fuck it.

Cancer - Fuck it.

Leo - Fuck it.

Virgo - Fuck it, with flare.

Libra - Fuck it.

Scorpio - Fuck it.

Sagittarius - Fuck it.

Capricorn - Fuck it.

Aquarius - Fuck it.

Pisces - Fuck it.

march 2021

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may 2021

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brain dump: pot brownies make poop

by KRISTEN ACESTA

D

igestion is such a wildly interesting process of the body. Did you know that there are more neurotransmitters in your gut than in your brain? It puts the term “gut instinct” into a bigger picture.

Like maybe our psyche isn’t housed in that cranial mass we have all come to love so much. And what is our psyche anyways?

Our intestinal cells have a turn over every three days or so. Think about that.

In the timeframe of a week, one practically has a brand new set of human sausage casings floating around in our inside spaces.

Speaking of sausage, if you are on the same page as me, while eating salami you probably wonder if pigs get “leaky gut.”

You know, that term in alternative medicine that describes what your digestion normally does, which is absorb things we eat. Nevertheless, back to that pig, its intestinal casing, and its permeability. If a pig DID have leaky gut, do you think it would change the cooking temperature of its perfectly cured sausage? Do other animals get human afflictions, especially conditions coined up in the last decade?

Digestion is also interesting because it houses more obvious symptomology for its human host to observe. Take my patient the other day, who came in quite enlightened. “How long does it take to fully digest something?” She asks.

Good question. Each person is different, of course, but on average it takes 30 minutes to 4 hours for food to pass through the stomach, and upwards of 5 hours to pass through the small intestine. It then moves on to the colon which compacts the material and allows for water reabsorption (along with some other things) and can take 24-72 hours to pass through.

“That makes sense doc” she proclaims. “You see last week I ate too many pot brownies. The only other food in my house was a bunch of red beets. So those got eaten too. It took about an hour and a half before I started feeling, well, high.”

Interesting isn’t it? So this patient

has stomach motility of 90 minutes. We know this because the stomach is responsible for initial cleavage of large proteins, and only really absorbs some glucose and other simple sugars, as well as some aminos. So basically the small stuff that is already in its basic/simple form (i.e. not complex carbohydrates, and not proteins). If she had optimal acid production in her stomach (most people don’t) creating a pH of roughly 1.5-3, then perhaps she would start to be high before gastric emptying, otherwise her first intoxicated moment would be once it hits the small intestine.

“Yeah, I was more stoned than I wanted to be, but it seemed to dissipate after 6 hours.” That also makes sense, because that’s about the duration of having pot brownies in the small intestines, at least as far as healthy intestines goes.

“I still felt a bit foggy the next day, until I started noticing all the beets coming out.”

Beets are also a helpful digestive tracking marker. Well, beets and apparently pot brownies. Having complete bowel evacuation within a 1-2 day period is optimal. Otherwise we start reabsorbing everything our poop is holding onto.

In worst case scenarios this can create what’s termed a “megacolon”, which means you are literally full of shit, but pathologically so.

That foggy brain that so many complain of could be you reabsorbing your Friday whiskey binge fest, pot charcuterie, or other toxic substances that get to hang out in our colon for potentially too long. Curious if you are reintoxicating yourself because your digestion is poor?

Next time you are doing yourself some damage, eat a cup of red beets alongside and watch the ride.

Dr. Kristen Acesta, ND, RH Naturopathic physician and registered herbalist at Mission Health & Wellness, co-owner of Salt Creek Apothecary becomeyourmission.org saltcreekapothecary.com

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may 2021

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THE FUNNY PAGES Comics by Dan McConnell

COMICS AND NOVELTIES

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by ron evans

may 2021

rayguns

Rayguns. One of the coolest (and cruelest) devices in the scifi world and an item that still seems to largely be tied to the eras of its invention (Victorian) and of its widespread popularity (1940s and 1950s) which has mostly kept them retro, steampunk or googie with that glorious mid century modern Space Age flare.

It seems that the raygun was a literary invention (though some claim there were earlier examples) of H.G. Wells as most historians believe they first appeared in Wells’ 1898 classic The War Of The Worlds as the terrifying, and incredibly effective, Heat-Ray. According to The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction the actual word “raygun” was first used by Victor Rousseau in 1917, in a passage from The Messiah of the Cylinder.

And while for now, the world seems to be safe from a real life death ray, many Tesla researchers claim the prolific scientist was onto one of his own over 100 years ago.

Some of those more fringe experts even say it’s possible that Tesla caused the mysterious Tunguska explosion in Siberia in 1908 whilst he was testing his death ray many miles away. A neat thought but...probably not accurate.

Still, one has to wonder where we are concerning the reality of a gun that separates our much-needed flesh from our bones. The saying is whatever technology we the people know about and have access to, the military has had for 10 years. The real rub is, if they had one of these “where the hell did that guy just go!” type of rayguns - they could be using them all the time, we’d never know because...he gone.

Fun thoughts!

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