DOI article:
John Weichsel, Artists and Others
DOI article:Katharine N. Rhoades, Beyond the Wind [poem]
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.31335#0027
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ears; for awakening the creative springs of the people’s souls, so that a fertile
soil may come into being for the artists’ racial growth and bloom. But, what
is racial? How may the long-lost racial growth be redeemed? Here is the
great riddle of art and of life. And yet, while looming high, it is not insur-
mountable. We know that it is wholly contained and fully revealable in the
manifestations of freed individuality. Here, therefore, lies the road, for
artists and others.
The small group of insurgents now active notwithstanding professional
derision and popular callousness have, so far, wrangled and struggled for a
seemingly unintelligible outcome. But their battle cry is: The right of indi-
vidual vision. In this they voice the sentiments of all those who see an ulti-
mate victory of true art in an awakening of the art-instinct from its long sleep
for an era of truly universal art-life.
John Weichsel.
BEYOND THE WIND
A sudden wide expanse of thundering sky—
Tremendous—full of wind—
Lake water rained on far below us—green and grey—
And straight across—beyond the rounded beating storm,
Beyond the wind
Beyond the rain
Beyond the lake
Lifted a mountain!
I feel it all again—the wonderful whiteness there—free—
Free from the storm.
The flowing line where sky burned gold and mountain turned at the
peak—
And behind us the crowding clouds—black and sweeping—
Over our castles of stone.
The rain falling heavily—in sheets—drenching us,
Surrounding us—
Ominous—explosive—
The atmosphere tense and terrible!
I am there again, on the peak.
I seem to see the rocks, to smell the coming rain,
To feel the wind, to know the wetness,
To hear our voices—
And yet the hour has gone
Throbbing, throbbing—into the night!
Katharine N. Rhoades.
17
soil may come into being for the artists’ racial growth and bloom. But, what
is racial? How may the long-lost racial growth be redeemed? Here is the
great riddle of art and of life. And yet, while looming high, it is not insur-
mountable. We know that it is wholly contained and fully revealable in the
manifestations of freed individuality. Here, therefore, lies the road, for
artists and others.
The small group of insurgents now active notwithstanding professional
derision and popular callousness have, so far, wrangled and struggled for a
seemingly unintelligible outcome. But their battle cry is: The right of indi-
vidual vision. In this they voice the sentiments of all those who see an ulti-
mate victory of true art in an awakening of the art-instinct from its long sleep
for an era of truly universal art-life.
John Weichsel.
BEYOND THE WIND
A sudden wide expanse of thundering sky—
Tremendous—full of wind—
Lake water rained on far below us—green and grey—
And straight across—beyond the rounded beating storm,
Beyond the wind
Beyond the rain
Beyond the lake
Lifted a mountain!
I feel it all again—the wonderful whiteness there—free—
Free from the storm.
The flowing line where sky burned gold and mountain turned at the
peak—
And behind us the crowding clouds—black and sweeping—
Over our castles of stone.
The rain falling heavily—in sheets—drenching us,
Surrounding us—
Ominous—explosive—
The atmosphere tense and terrible!
I am there again, on the peak.
I seem to see the rocks, to smell the coming rain,
To feel the wind, to know the wetness,
To hear our voices—
And yet the hour has gone
Throbbing, throbbing—into the night!
Katharine N. Rhoades.
17
