“Think Small” Shows Big Thoughts at the Visual Arts Alberta Gallery

I discovered the Visual Arts Alberta Gallery by mistake.

With just a few shows and sales under my belt in my intermittent career as an artist I found myself downtown one afternoon and noticed this Harcourt House building that claimed to have a gallery in it.  I thought, buoyed by a little success and positive response, I might as well do a cold call.  I climbed the stairs to the third floor, walked straight ahead into the VAA gallery, not realizing until much later that there was that other, bigger gallery across the hall.

Having decided that my little paintings could speak for themselves I pulled a couple of my Apellean Sketches out of my backpack for Sharon to look at.  She responded in the familiar but no less gratifying positive way I’d come to expect.  I asked how one got to hang stuff on the gallery walls.  By fortunate timing, one of the VAA’s member’s exhibits and sales was coming up.  I gave Sharon the modest membership fee and I was in and some of my paintings were on the wall.

But this outfit, now VAA/CARFAC, the Alberta arm of Canadian Artists’ Representation/Le Front des artistes canadians, the non-profit national voice of Canada’s professional visual artists, is no vanity gallery.  VAA/CARFAC actively lobbies for artists’ rights in Alberta, communicates provincial, national and international opportunities to members, provides professional development, workshops, lessons and outreach to the visual arts community of the province.

Of course, at the time I just figured it was neat to have a place to hang some stuff.

Since that first day, I’ve contributed to pretty much every members’ show at the VAA as well as having joint show at the gallery with Linda Daoust.  The calls for submissions the VAA regularly forwards to all members have led to a number of solo shows.

That’s my personal shout out to Visual Arts Alberta.

Now, lets talk about what’s happening in the Gallery until November 24.

Think Small is the current members’ exhibition and show.  I see it as an opportunity for artist members to give a little back to the Association in a win-win way.  Each time there’s one of these shows it’s an adventure for the artists.  This time we have to work within a size restriction (12 x 12 inches or less). Other times the restrictions have been thematic, as in Energize or dictated by a VAAA provided object as in Xposition (a small wooden cross) or VBay (brass platters).  These restrictions provide a wonderful opportunity for artists to expand their visions, to stretch their skills, to grow by working outside their comfort zones.  This is professional development at its most fundamental.

The artists set the price for their work themselves, agreeing to split any sales evenly with the Association.  The artists profit and VAA/CARFAC gains funding which all goes back to programs of benefit to the visual artists of Alberta.  And the buyer goes home with some great art made by an artist they very well may get to meet and chat with at the gallery.  And, believe me, there’s nothing quite like meeting and chatting with an artist whose work you admire.

Because VAA/CARFAC members range across the career range of visual artists, you’ll see work on the walls at Think Small from students just starting out right beside the work of grizzled established professionals.  This show is the place to find gems by artists on the cusp of their professional career as well as marvellous pieces by established artists.  At Think Small (and the other VAA Gallery shows) you can buy art, shop local, secure in the knowledge that every penny you spend benefits the artists. And, unlike what you’ll find at many charity art auctions, these are not works that the artist has had trouble selling and wants to be rid of.  Most of the works in Think Small were created specifically for Think Small.

On the afternoon of Hallowe’en, I spent an hour at the Gallery making brief notes on the works of every artist in the show — except my own, nasty lumpish things that they are.  Not every piece appeals to me, but I can certainly see grateful audiences for most. Not every piece shows a fully developed technique — but then, what artist’s technique is every fully developed before death? But every single piece gave me cause for interest, most have my admiration, and a goodly number make me wish I had far more wall space. Because of the remarkably reasonable prices, no one should feel a wish for deeper pockets.

It would be very simple for me to transcribe the brief notes I made as I stood in front of each work, but I don’t think I’ll do that here.  If there seems to be interest, perhaps I’ll post them separately.  Rather, I’ll give a bit of an overview of the range of works and media in the show. The ranges are tremendous.

For the plastic arts we see clay fired raku and various other ways, glazed and unglazed, representative, decorative and functional.  And then there are the majority of the works, the ones I am loath to call 2D. We see pastels (Shirley Adams’ lovely, painterly land/skyscapes), countless oil and acrylic pieces on every concievable ground, loads of beautiful watercoulours, a number of most interesting mixed media/collage pieces, digital art, various types of prints . . . the only thing I can find missing that was in previous members’ shows is an electolytically etched piece, and that’s just because I didn’t get around to making one this time.

As for what’s actually going on in the pieces:

Botanical/Floral pieces share with landscapes the numerically dominant position.  Some, like T. Michelle Leavitt-Djonlic’s watercolour roses are meticulous portraits, like classic botanical illustrations.  Others, such as Leona Olausen’s acrylics and Sharon Moore-Foster’s Tulips are approaching abstraction while remaining readily identifiable.  There are impressionistic lilies reminiscent of Monet by Lijun Theberge and Amy Loewan’s black ink pieces somehow hovering between old Japanese minimilist and ‘sixties design.

The landscapes are all identifiably Alberta, from Sophia Podrylula-Shaw’s bold and briliantly bright boreal forests with a Group of Seven flavour, through Laurie Bentz’ almost-abstract orange arial farmland landscapes to Patricia Coulters absolutely beautiful, economical Alberta landscapes in watercolour.

Greg Pyra offers pop art faux-fifties ads while Bernard Hippel presents colourfield pieces in terra cotta and jade.

The collage and print work I find to be generally very impressive. Wendy Gervais’ Road Trip pieces are very evocative as is Shane Golby’s “Notes from the Nightshift”, a beautiful multimedia composition in yellow, blue and black.  Wet pavement, streetlight light and shadow. Charalene Denton’s three prints, one in red and two in gold are wonderfully intriguing.

I must mention the many little pinback buttons also on display.  These are themselves unique art works from the hands of VAA/CARFAC members.

These comments are just a snapshot of the big things going on in Think Small.  That I haven’t specifically mentioned many of the artists is not in any way a reflection on their work.  I want to get this post up as quickly as possible in order to get as many people down to the show as my small effort can spur.

Think Small runs until November 24 at the VAA Gallery, 3rd floor, Harcourt House Arts Centre, 10215 112 Street, Edmonton, Alberta, T5K 1M7

A new image from the show is posted each day at the VAA Visuals Blog — but viewing images of art online is, at best, a supplement to, not a substitute for a visit to the real thing.

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A Monstrous Post about “Beautiful Monsters” at the Art Gallery of Alberta

These notes derive from my second visit to Beautiful Monsters/Beautés monstrueuses in the Ernest E. Poole Gallery at the Art Gallery of Alberta on Wednesday, October 17, 2012.  Most of what I note is my immediate response to each piece.  Sometimes it is the quality of the printing, sometimes the skill evinced by the engraving, etching or woodcutting, and only rarely the monstrousness of these beauties.  Usually I stood in awe.  On one or two occasions I was indifferent to a piece.  To be honest, while I understand the unifying theme of the show, I found far more beauty here than I did monstrosity — except after an oddly behaved visitor arrived.  Much seemed very familiar, but no less beautiful for that.  Certainly most of the pictures contain what would be termed monsters and seen as unfamiliar by many today, but for a viewer weaned on Dante, Mystery Plays, Milton and Science Fiction, or one with a tiny bit of knowldge of the history of Art, most of these images will seem like old friends.  I’m glad of the inclusion of depictions of war horses, but it seems a bit of shoe-horning to fit them in with monsters.

As the National Gallery has chosen to assemble only a small “List of Works” pamphlet rather than a full catalogue of the exhibit, I’ve provided links to online images of almost all of the works, many from the National Gallery’s web page.

I began my quiet afternoon visit by turning to the right as I entered the gallery to the two scenes from “The Harrowing of Hell” by Albrecht Dürer, a theme very familiar to my Mediaevalist side (sadly, toward the end of my visit an oddly behaved visitor made things very harrowing and Hellish).  In one print Adam and Eve are led out through the shattered Gates of Hell.  In the other Christ is leaning down to raise up the virtuous pagans.

Next is Dürer’s engraving of “The Knight, Death, and the Devil” a brilliant example of everything that is good about Dürer.  Amazing detail marked out with clear, confident economy of line. Notice the apparent velocity of the dog running below the horse’s hooves. And notice the background city/castle on the hill, misty with atmospheric perspective.

In “St. George on Foot”  Dürer makes good use of negative space in the infinite ocean behind George.

“Beast with Lamb’s Horns”  This woodcut illustrates The Book of Revelation.  The detail again is stunning and the boldness of the thicker lines gives a wholly different effect from the engravings.

“Samson Rending the Lion”  So many twentieth Century book illustrators went to school on Dürer!

“The Whore of Babylon” Again the Jabberwock of Revelation.

And now we depart from Dürer for a bit with “Inferno” by an unknown Italian.  This engraving lacks the elegance of Dürer.  It is very busy, reflecting the original fresco in Pisa which was heavily damaged by fire during World War II.

Jean Duvet’s “St. Michael Overwhelming the Dragon”  is sadly dark almost to muddiness.

“Envidia (Envy)” by Master L.D. reminds me of the illustrations by Harold Jones in a family favourite book of nursery rhymes called Lavender’s Blue by Kathleen Lines. There is something very distinctive about this piece.

Jacques Callot “Temptation of St. Anthony”
Oh, my! This is what the exhibition is about! Bosch, jabberwock, a stunning, flatulent etching!

“Descent into Hell”  School of Andrea Mantegna
Engraving but with boldness of a woodcut.  Quite tremendous with at least one bold perspective piece in the creature on the upper right.  Human face outline in the cracks in the Arch of Hell’s Gate.

“The Calumny of Apelles” c. 1496 Girolamo Mocetto
This engraving is of particular interest to me due to my own little connection to the great Ancient Greek painter Apelles.  The Calumny Apelles painted has not survived, but it was carefully described by Lucian and many artists have followed that description attempting to reproduce something like Apelles work.  Botticelli’s is perhaps the finest example.  As a footnote, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus also derives from a lost painting by Apelles, and so also distantly does a line in the film Picnic at Hanging Rock.  Apelles’ Calumny was an allegory, not a representation of any actual event.  The figures represent philosophical/psychological concepts such as suspicion, ignorance, innocence, penitence, truth, etc. The seated man with the ass ears — an allusion to Midas —  represents judgment.

Quite typical architectural perspective background with contrasting flat tableau of figures. The Judge of course has ass’s ears, as does Invidia (I don’t know why: there’s no mention of that in Lucian’s description).
Interesting the way three of the captions are worked into the architecture. Very different from Botticelli, but somehow reminiscent.

Antonio Fantuzi  “A Battle”
a little mushy and lazy in execution.  Far less skilled than some. faded ink, sadly.

Giovanni Jacopo Caraglio “Battle Scene”
shows much more skill than Fantuzi’s

Lucas Cranach the elder “4th Tournament”
is a tour de force wood cut.  So busy! So full! Yet so light and bright. Marvellous pyramidal composition.

Master M.Z. “The Tournament”
Much more medieval in figure, clumsy perspective and awkward figures.

Raffaello Schiaminossi’s “Caligula”
is disturbing in almost every way, from the jutting chin to the grotesquely populated helmet.

It was while looking at “Caligula” that I first noticed the oddly behaved visitor.  The Art Gallery of Alberta is usually a fairly calm and quiet place.  People certainly seem comfortable to have conversations, but generally voices are kept low and it’s possible to concentrate on the art without distraction.  But as I looked at this strange portrait of the third Emperor I couldn’t help but notice the expostulations coming from a gentleman who had come into the gallery.  He seemed to be stopping in front of each print for a moment and then shouting “I can’t believe it!” or “Oh, my God!”, or “How could anyone do something like that!” and so on.  Loudly. Very loudly.  Honestly, I’m not sure whether I was shocked more by the rude inconsideration or the apparently proud ignorance of late Renaissance art.

Jonas Suyderhoef’s “Portrait of Hendrick Golzius”
Certainly not idealized. Even the framing putos are flaccidly chubby and mealy.

The three miniatures:

Albrecht Altdorfer’s “Two Satyrs Fighting for a Nymph” ,
Hans Sebald Beham’s “Hercules Fighting against the Centaurs” , and
the anonymous Italian “Homage to Venus”
are charming gems despite the violence of two.

“St. Anthony Meeting the Satyr” by Herman Van Swanevelt
Hovers somewhere between Poussin and the Hudson River School.  Did Pauline Baynes think of this piece when Mr. Tumnus and Lucy met?

Charles Le Brun’s “Four Times of Day” Four pieces:

Dawn, Noon, Evening, and Night:  seems to leap off the pages. An economy of line which is simply stunning. Absolutely nothing extraneous.
engraving’s elegance with the bold character of a woodcut.

Agostino Musi’s “Procession of Silenus”  is largely a sculptural frieze on paper. The statue of Priapus (herm) on the horizon is a nice touch.

Philippe Galle’s “Triumph of Time”  is a very nice adaptation of Bruegel the Elder.

Giulio Bonasone’s “Pan and a Nymph with a Cornucopia, Standing by a Herm”
Sculptural. Not a wholly successful Composition.

Back to Dürer with “Hercules at the Crossroads”.  Marvellous confidence, strong pyramid composition. Beautifully detailed background and atmospheric perspective !!

Benedetto Montagna (not to be confused with Andrea Mantegna) “Woman and Satyr with Two Cupids”
Quite clumsy.

Giorgio Ghisi “The Judgement of Paris”
Marvellous, busy spiralling composition. such a metallic look!! Very mannered but very satisfying.

Dürer’s “Abduction of Proserpina on a Unicorn” 1516
A little less certainty in design and execution but so clearly Dürer.

Ludolf Backhuysen’s “Neptune and Amphitrite Drawn by a Sea Horse and a Unicorn” (Can’t find an online image) shows great confidence of line but seems to have suffered in the printing looking both blotchy and thin.

Hendrick Goltzius “Neptune and Amphitrite”  on the other hand:  High Mannerism in the figures, but somehow very charming in the faces and Neptune’s hand on her waist.

Giulio Carpioni’s “Water”
is a little muddied in the printing but nice work of line, composition, and figures.

Andrea Mantegna’s “Battle of the Sea Gods (left side)”  is quite exquisite.  Quite the skill.

Jacques Callot’s “Siren Between Two Ships”
What a heavenly piece!
Rocks in lower right and ship about to sail off the right edge, out of range, fading with atmospheric perspective. Other ship sailing in from the left.
Siren oddly blowing a shell-horn rather than singing.  All beautifully executed on a piece about three inches by 2.5!
Unlike Callot’s other piece in the show, the “Temptation of Anthony”, which was an epic of piled on detail, the “Siren” is minimalist, a startling economy of marks on the paper, a stunning, lyric piece.

Israhel van Meckenem (the younger)’s “St. Christopher”  is a beautiful piece, a beautiful composition, a fluid “S” linking Christopher, Christ, and the hermit on the shore.  Lovely homely details of fish, plants, birds, rocks and a ship.

Hans Holbein (The Younger) “Title-page Border with Saints Peter and Paul and the Symbols of the Four Evangelists”
A lovely title page. Very nice. But the text doesn’t strike me as Luther’s New Testament as the tag suggests.

Hieronymus Hopfer “Charles V, German Emperor”
is just scary, although nicely executed.

Carlo Cesi “Hercules Driving Out the Harpies”
A marvellous reproduction of  a fresco by Pietro Da Cortona in Pallazzo Barbarini

Nicolo Boldrini (after Titian) “The Laocoon Group as Monkeys”
WTF?! Interesting, but a little clumsy of line.  I’m sure Titian’s is better.

Two Medallions by Theodor de Bry, “Caritas”  and “Folly”  are exquisite little things.   Circular pieces with portrait in centre and frieze on black background around circumference forming ground for figures.

Hans Sebald Beham “Ornament with Two Genii Riding on Two Chimeras”  beautiful symmetrical composition left Genius facing us Right facing away as though it were a sculpture in the round.

Lucas van Leyden “Ornamental Panel with Two Sirens”
Beautiful sinuous piece!! Unfortunately, it was while I was admiring this piece that the oddly behaved visitor actually pushed his shoulder in front of me, almost shoving me, stuck his head up close to the picture and said loudly, apparently to me “What are those?! Have you ever seen anything like this!? I haven’t! Oh my goodness! What are those — oh, are those their heads!”

I shifted along to “A Cavalry Battle” by Hanns Lautensack
Well done but a little static, like they are posing (albeit with huge horses posing on top of some of the men).

Hendric Goltzius “Fighting Horses”  is a marvellous reproduction of what must be a marvellous study by Van der Straet.

As a bit of a footnote, I find the contrast between the English title, Beautiful Monsters, and the French title, Beautés monstrueuses (Monstrous Beauties) to nicely sum up a major tension in the show. Thank you, National Gallery of Canada, for such a richly poetic use of Canada’s two official languages!

Beautiful Monsters: Beasts and Fantastic Creatures in Early European Prints/Beautés monstrueuses: Bêtes et créatures fantastiques dans l’estampe européenne ancienne runs at the Art Gallery of Alberta until March 10, 2013.

Try to avoid the beautifully monstrous shouting man.

Update, September 20, 2013:

Beautiful Monsters comes next year to the Kamloops Art Gallery  in January and The Rooms in St. John’s, Newfoundland in September.  Rupert Thomson’s Secrecy would be a fine literary accompaniment to the show.

A (Nuclear) Blast from the Past: Lester del Rey’s “Nerves”

In 1942 Lester del Rey, a second-string Golden Age science fiction stalwart, published a story titled “Nerves”. In 1956 he published an expanded version as a novel with the same title. It is to the 1956 version I refer here.  Nerves is the story of an accident at a nuclear plant, the political machinations which helped cause it, and the struggle to control the disaster and save the injured. Almost all the science in Nerves is what is sometimes called “rubber science”: to be less polite, it’s made up and inaccurate, although often based on speculation and hopeful expectation of mid-twentieth century popular science. The writing is unremarkably workmanlike. One might expect that this little book of science fiction, with its poor fiction and worse science would be best forgotten, but . . .

I can’t help but feel a fascination with the thing, principally because of del Rey’s confidence in the power of technology to solve our problems and remake the world for modern humanity.  This idea of the improvability of Nature has become largely foreign to modern public discourse (although we in the West silently continue to take part in just such an idea as we painlessly adopt every new bit of technology).  I happily acknowledge (guiltily confess?) my strong nostalgia for the nuclear-powered, sky-scrapered, monorailed future metropolis that never was to be.  So, del Rey’s future in which nuclear plants’ prime function is to produce inconceivably useful and beneficial trans-uranic elements in the (non-existent) Islands of Stability while generating vast amounts of power as a cheap byproduct — this world stirs my naive childhood technocratic dreams of a future life made better through chemistry and physics.  And I can’t help feeling sympathetic to del Rey’s depiction of the Ludite mobs opposed to the nuclear industry as a bunch of ignorant fools wanting to destroy all the benefits of the magnificent modern world in order to return to the brutish pre-Atomic age.

Of course, we know better now, don’t we?

Of particular interest in this Post-Chernobyl, post-Fukushima age, is del Rey’s description of the heroic efforts to shut down the out of control reactor.  Certainly these heroes are to some extent typical two-fisted, square-jawed  pulp fiction American heroes. But, think about those who dove into the radioactive water in the shredded reactor at Chernobyl and the volunteer workers in Fukushima, fully aware that theirs was likely a suicide mission.  Perhaps del Rey’s most reassuring achievement in Nerves is the prediction that nuclear catastrophe would produce self-sacrificing heroes.

Del Rey also makes a sadly accurate prediction in describing the machinations of the Congressional fellow from Missouri, playing his constituent cotton farmers, the anti-nuclear lobby and the nuclear industry off against each other in order to stay in office, all by forcing the attempt to produce a potentially earth-destroying isotope, the production attempt which leads to the meltdown.

Nerves has many shortcomings for the modern reader, not least the solution to the problem of the nuclear accident — dump the radioactive crud into the river out back and presto! the world is saved.  But as an historical document demonstrating mid-century attitudes to technology I find it fascinating. Right now I have beside me a copy of the July 1978 issue of Analog magazine containing a “Science Fact” article by Ralph Hamil titled “Terraforming the Earth”.  Even into the last quarter of the twentieth century, just a few years before Chernobyl changed everything, there was serious discussion and planning for megaprojects to divert rivers across continents and “reshape the face of the globe to [humanity’s] liking.” How things have changed in a single generation.

A worthwhile cautionary tale, Nerves also warns both of the dangers of political interference in scientific research and of uninformed knee-jerk reactions to real or imagined threats from that research.  Certainly the thing was targeted at adolescent American boys like so much of the Science Fiction of the time and it induces near-constant eye-rolls.  But somehow bits of surprising progressivism slip in: a character with a disability; a number of female characters who are strong, competent professionals taking control of the situation and in command of all those two-fisted square-jawed heroic men; even a Japanese scientist (albeit with embarrassingly stereotypical dialect) as a part of the team in a story written only a few years after Pearl Harbour.

For all its flaws, and they are many, Nerves can be a remarkable trip back to the time before nuclear accidents were real history, before technology had in fact remade the world (for the worse), to a time when technology and hope for the future were to some degree synonymous.

Sadly, Nerves seems to be out of print at the moment.  Why not take a look in your local second-hand bookshop?

I also have a little something to say about del Rey’s The Eleventh Commandment.

Update, within a few hours of the original post:  I’ve just reread Ralph Hamil’s Analog piece “Terraforming the Earth”, Analog, July, 1978, pp. 46-65 for the first time since I was in high school and . . . Oh, my Goodness!  This is going to need a blog post of its own!  But how’s this for a taste?

Other proposed peaceful uses of atomic devices include the blasting of  harbours in Alaska and Madagascar, and underground reservoirs, and facilitation of oil, gas, and mine production.  But the missing element of general world sanity may long inhibit such uses.

Yes, the “absence of general world sanity” is what inhibits the use of nuclear devices to aid the extraction of hydrocarbons from Alberta’s oil/tar sands, something that was actually proposed at one point in history.

It was a very different world, indeed.

On “Midnight Sweatlodge” by Waubgeshig Rice

A short way into Waubgeshig Rice’s Midnight Sweatlodge I said to myself “This little book is a gem!” but now that I’ve finished reading and rereading it I say loudly “This big, grand book is deceptive in it’s tininess and it is not a single gem but a glistening, sparkling, icy string of brutally sharp-edged diamonds.  Outwardly, Midnight Sweatlodge has the appearance of a short novel, but it is actually a collection of short stories linked together by a frame narrative — the titular Sweatlodge.  Because I’ve been rereading Bradbury lately I couldn’t help think of The Martian Chronicles and The Illustrated Man, but Midnight Sweatlodge‘s frame is much more tightly bound to the stories than anything Bradbury threw together, and Rice’s stories are actually dense and challenging prose poems.  The poetry of Midnight Sweatlodge moves Rice’s novel/prose poem cycle into the company of The Decameron, the 1001 Nights and the Canterbury Tales.  Lest I seem to be giving absurdly high praise . . .  although I see Rice as serving at the same restaurant as Boccaccio, Scheherazade and Chaucer, those masters serve luxurious infinitely coursed banquets while Rice presents us with an exquisitely balanced and beautifully plated appetizer. I hope a banquet is in the future of his career. And that metaphor has certainly run its course . . .

Midnight Sweatlodge is four stories, three told within the blackness of the healing sweatlodge, the fourth told in the days and weeks after the ritual is abruptly ended. The frame which ties the stories together is the course of the ritual and the words of the elder attempting to guide the young people of his community toward healing.

The stories in order in absurd nutshells:  “Dust” is childhood (“I bet we’d trade everything to be there again”), land rights, confrontation, death.  “Solace” is adolescence, peer pressure, human potential, tragedy. “Bloodlines” is young adulthood, Urban Indian life, integration, extended family, expectations, racism. “Aasinaabe” is maturity, parenting, prophecy and apocalypse.

Rice’s descriptions of the Rez on an island in Georgian Bay, of the woods and the lake, of the dusty roads and the run-down, leaky houses is remarkably vivid.  I have vague memories of being a child in the back of a car driving on Manitoulin Island and more recent memories of driving through First Nations land here in Alberta: Rice has nailed the light, the air, the very feel of Rez landscapes with all their beauties and tragic uglinesses and the phenomenal determination of the people.

I made copious notes throughout but the text is so tightly interwoven with metaphor and internal references that it is impossible to get into details without including spoilers, which I won’t do.  But I will reveal that Midnight Sweatlodge with disarming economy and amazing power envelopes us in Treaties, warriorhood, parenting, childhood, love, abuse of spouses and substances, Rez life, urban life, work, play, ritual, rebirth, transformation, corruption, death and the potential end of the world — an attentive reading of the novel is an experience I imagine to be similar to an actual sweatlodge experience.

I invite everyone, particularly non-native readers, to join Waubgeshig Rice in the Midnight Sweatlodge for a transformation and an education.
Midnight Sweatlodge is published by Theytus Books and if you are literate you should buy it and read it.

Update November 29, 2014: By the way, Waubgeshig Rice’s first novel, Legacy, has been published.

Update March 8, 2015: It was a pleasure yesterday to receive an email announcing the completion of featuring the very smooth voice stylings of Rick Harp.  After a very successful Kickstarter campaign, this important new version of Waub’s first book will reach a new audience, and spread the magnificent storytelling even further.