An Art Museum in the Postmodern World

Nude Descending a Staircase

An Art Museum in the Postmodern World -- A Parody-Poem on Marcel Duchamp

The following poem is modeling Ginsberg's "Supermarket in California," a poem we read earlier in this class. It's done to parody the Dadaism of Marcel Duchamp. Instead of the supermarket, it takes place in the Duchamp section of a modern art museum. And instead of walking with Walt Whitman I am walking with Kenyon Cox, an academic classicist artist. So instead of decrying the lost America of Walt Whitman I am decrying the lost America of Kenyon Cox and grand art. 



Fountain

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Kenyon Cox, for I walked into the Philadelphia Museum of Art in the Duchamp section with a headache self-conscious looking at the "Nude Descending a Staircase."

In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went through the Duchamp section, dreaming nightmares of art!

What? "Fountain"? What? "Sink stopper"? Companies of intellectuals watching at night! Aisles full of professionals! -- and you, Norman Rockwell, what are you doing down by the "Dart Object"?

I saw you, Kenyon Cox, childless, lonely old antique, turning the "Bicycle Wheel" and eyeing the "Comb."

I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the meaning of art? What prices were these? And who is Rose Selavy?

Why are you sneezing, Rose Selavy?

I wandered in and out of the stacks of readymades following you, and followed in my imagination by a Dadaist.

We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary nightmare viewing Duchamp, possessing every readymade already at home, and never passing the cashier for that.



Where are we going, Kenyon Cox? The doors are closing. Which way does the brush point tonight?

(I touch the "Bottle Rack" and dream of our odyssey in the Duchamp section and feel absurd.)

Will we walk all night through art that doesn't lift? The figures add shade to shade, lights out in the artists, we'll both be lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love, home to our grand reaching?

Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Duchamp quit poling the ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of postmodernism?

Global Popular Culture and the Beatles

A couple weeks ago I went to a lecture called "America through the Beatles." The lecture is a quick summary of a Humanities class by that same name. The main thesis of the lecture was the following:

"The Beatles took American music and American style, synthesized it and transformed it and sent it back to America for its consumption. Thus the British invasion--at least as manifest by the Beatles--is perhaps a misnomer since it was really America which "invaded" the Beatles first." 

I thought it was interesting to learn how the Beatles listened to American blues, country, western, and rock-and-roll music. Inspired by this music, and by American movies, they set about to write their own.

Having lived in Denmark for most of my life (55% of my life there, 45% in the USA) I understand how American culture via American music and film is a big influence in Scandinavia -- often succesful artists become succesful by imitating American trends, or better yet, by combining American trends with local Danish cultural and historical underpinnings. I think this is more a product of an American-dominant globalization than it is a product of an American fascination per se -- since America is often criticized and disliked politically.

Globalized popular culture, however, is strongly dominated by the American music industry and by Hollywood. Why? Because popular culture, as we know it today, started in America. It's Coney Island gone global! It's the American middle class merging upper culture and lower culture on a worldwide scale. It started in America so it is dominated by America. The Beatles is just one example of this--buying into the popular culture produced by America and using this as the source of their own music. Most merchandise today may be "made in China" -- but most popular culture of music and film is, directly or indirectly, "made in the USA."

One of my favorite Beatles songs

Blowing in the Wind with the Good Vibrations of the Wizard of Oz

The following comes from another class paper where we were told to listen to three NPR clips (from this site) of different American musical pieces. I chose "Blowing in the Wind" by Bob Dylan, "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys and the music film "Wizard of Oz."

The nominated winner:

(my favorite of the three musical pieces)



Listen to Paul, Peter and Mary singing "Blowing in the Wind"



Bob Dylan

"Blowing in the Wind" was originally written by Bob Dylan and became the foremost anti-war protest song of the 1960's. Listening to the NPR clip, I found it interesting that the song was originally based on a negro spiritual from the Civil War era. That gives the song an added layer of meaning as it connects the anti-war protests of the 1960's to the strivings of African-Americans during and after the Civil War to overcome the culture of slavery and discrimination. Both are linked together as struggles to more completely fulfill the American promise of freedom: freedom for African-Americans and freedom from the injustices of war. With this basis in a negro spiritual it is only fitting that the song was performed right before Martin Luther King's "I have a Dream" speech, recalling the struggles of an earlier era and emphasizing the connection between the end of slavery and the civil rights movement.

Peter, Paul and Mary popularized
the song in 1963

Listening to the clip also made me realize how postmodern the song really is. The repeated statement that "the answer is blowing in the wind" has no specific interpretation readily readable from the song. Bob Dylan himself was cryptic about what this meant, saying only that the answers are not found in any book, TV show or discussion group, but in the wind. Whether it meant that the answers were obvious, or not obvious at all, or something else entirely is not clear from the song. This ambiguity or open-endedness is a very postmodern characteristic. By positing a number of questions and then answering them the song also uses a call-response mechanism typical of postmodernism.

I agree with the statement in the clip that Dylan was right not to give the song a specific interpretation because it is precisely this ambiguity that climaxes the song and makes it aesthetically pleasing to me. Had an absolute answer been given to the questions posed, the song would not have caused me to wonder and reflect on those questions as it currently does. That wondering and reflection is the whole meaning of the song to me. I also like the song because the imagery of the wind, while emphasizing the ambiguity of the answer, also leads us back to nature rather than to the established order of civilization for the answers to our condition.

These guys had good vibrations...

The Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations" is the next song clip I listened to. I like this song a lot because of the multiple instruments used to underscore the presence of "vibrations." The clip points out several different instruments used: the organ, the cello, bass, drums, an electro-theremin invented by Paul Tanner, and a harmonica. This multi-vocal or multi-instrumental attribute (itself a postmodern trait) emphasizes the vibratory nature of the song and makes it more playfully romantic than it would have been had only one or two instruments been used. I like the ability of the Beach Boys to use several instruments in making such playful and fun recordings.

I was surprised that Brian Wilson originally wanted to title the song "Good Vibes." I think the change to "Good vibrations" makes the song much better. The word "vibrations" makes the song more active to me than just using "vibes." When performed, "vibrations" is a more vibratory word because there are more syllables than in "vibes." It underscores the vibratory and playful nature of the song better.

Off to see the Wizard!

Finally, I listened to a clip about the Wizard of Oz movie. I found it interesting that putting in "Somewhere over the Rainbow" at the beginning of the movie was such a controversial or novel move. I like the insertion of that song at the beginning because it defines for us who Dorothy is and thereby sets up the rest of the story line for us to follow. I also like how different musical themes are used and repeated for the different characters in the movie and how these themes are repeatedly used to underscore the development of these characters. Seeing this development is enjoyable because as we learn about the development of others we learn about ourselves.

I like the theme of an escape from reality found in the movie. Having grown up watching the Wizard of Oz, I had never thought much about how it reflected conditions or emotions of the people following the Great Depression. Just as Dorothy was escaping from the cares of Kansas, people were trying to escape from the daily life of the depression and second World War. The film is a message of hope and assurance to those seeking escape: hope that everything will be alright as long as we follow our individual "yellow brick road" and an assurance that the answers are found within rather than by escaping. The heart we are looking for is already in us, the way to get home is in the yellow slippers we already have. In this way, the movie assures us that in spite of temporary lapses, if we live up to who we really are as individuals and as a society, we will continue to realize and fulfill the American Dream.

What Art Means - Most and Least Wanted

In class several weeks ago, we heard about a painting called "America's Most Wanted." This painting (to the side) is part of a project of "Most Wanted Paintings" and "Least Wanted Paintings" made by Russian emigrant artists Vitaly Komar and Alex Melamid. "America's Most Wanted" and "America's Least Wanted" were exhibited at the Alternative Museum in New York.

America's Most Wanted is certainly American--it portrays George Washington, majestic mountains, animals, clear water and the sky. It is not a favorite painting of mine but it does capture my attention and represents the type of artwork I enjoy. It reminds me of the Hudson River School, my favorite American school of art, where grand paintings of nature were depicted, with even the leaves of every tree being painted in detail. Grand, majestic, beautiful, concerned with nature, inspiring -- this is what art means to me, first and foremost. Such depictions inspire me and make me appreciate what is beautiful.

On the other hand, we also have "America's Least Wanted" painting. This is the kind of abstract art that depicts nothing in particular and which either means something deeply symbolic or can mean whatever it may to whoever is looking at it. While we are currently learning about abstract art in my Humanities class and I can sometimes appreciate the way artists seek to depict something internal and mental rather than something external -- it is still not the kind of art that I want hung up in my own house. It may inspire me to reflect upon something but often the confusing shapes and colors are more distractive to me than they are inspirational. The beauties of nature, the beauties of landscape paintings, are much more inspiring to me than are contorted images and shapes on a canvas. I want to look outwards, out at beauty that uplifts and inspires me. I don't want to look inwards at images that may disturb be or reveal something mentally disturbing about myself or society.

I am with Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt Whitman in nature - not with the abstract art of modernism. I am one of those who believe American art has lost something better and more beautiful found in the Romantic art period. Not that we haven't gained additional insights from Freudian pscyhology-inspired artwork; not that modern art does not help us reflect about important things as well. But you would never find me enjoy a museum of exclusively modern art nearly as much as I would a museum of exclusively romantic paintings. We need models - beauty - to lift us, inspire us, make us look ahead and beyond ourselves to something better, something to strive towards. Not just something depicting our mental psyche.

Komar and Melamid - you've proved it again: I AM American!

Dixon

The following is a paper on one of the lesser known paintings of Maynard Dixon, a late 19th to early 20th century regionalist painter. The painting is held by the BYU Museum of Art.

Destination Nowhere, by Dixon

Maynard Dixon (1875-1946) is best known as a painter of the American West. His paintings of the western landscape, western people, and the Native Americans were what originally established him as an artist. Like many other artists at the time, however, he was significantly influenced by the Great Depression in turning towards a more social realist style. Destination to Nowhere, painted in 1941, is one of those paintings. Depicting two solitary individuals walking through a barren desert with nothing hopeful in front of them, the painting represents a merger of Dixon's regionalist and social realist styles and a poignant social realist description and critique of the Depression era.

Born in California into a Virginian aristocratic family, Dixon started his career illustrating books and magazines with Western themes (Wikipedia). He studied for a while at the California School of Design but was largely self-taught. Drawn by the simplicity of the rural West, Dixon became well known for his regionalist landscape paintings of the West and depictions of Native Americans which were largely based on his own observations. These paintings, particularly those of the Native Americans, were more romanticized tributes than realistic depictions. His return to the West to paint Native Americans following the ending of his first marriage shows the comfort and solitude he found in the West.

Dixon's regionalist style of painting

The Depression significantly influenced Dixon as he turned away from mere regionalism towards a more modern and social realist style. Because of the Depression, Maynard and his second wife, photographer Dorothea Lange, were forced to give up their homes, board their children, and live in their studios to make ends meet. Working conditions at the nearby Boulder Dam construction site, the maritime strike in San Francisco, and his wife's social realist photography were all influential in turning Dixon towards a broader American perspective and a social realist critique (McKay). As Dixon said, "The depression woke me up to the fact that I had a part in all this, as an artist" (Hagerty 206). As a result, Dixon painted a series of paintings depicting strikes, displaced workers and those adversely affected by the Depression.

Destination to Nowhere is one of these Depression-era paintings, depicting the loneliness and insecurity faced by American society by means of two men walking together through a barren desert. Their ragged jeans and hats reveal them as working class people. The bedrolls they are carrying show that they are on a long journey and suggest that they are out looking for work with no more possessions than what they are carrying with them. That they are seen from behind their backs, their faces not visible, suggest that their specific identity is unimportant. The non-importance of their identity represents the hopelessness and insignificance they feel as poor people in the job market following the Depression. It also identifies them, and the theme of the painting, with the larger American populace rather than with specific people.

The first thing that catches my attention about the painting is the wide open sky in front of the two men. The sky covers about three-fourths of the painting and the major part of the bodies of the two men are situated against the background of the sky. This gives one the sense that they are walking toward the empty sky, representing a walk into the emptiness of an uncertain future. Had the painting promised hope and future fulfillment, there would have been something looming instead of the empty sky--a mountain, a temple, or the sun. But no such attainable ideal is presented. The style is modern precisely in that it does not express a distant ideal but a present reality. It is social realism in that this reality has to do with the harsh societal conditions of the time. There is no visible target or goal, merely an open-ended landscape--just as many during the Depression felt there was no hope or end in sight to the problems they were facing. The slightly rising altitude of distant mountains in the left and right side of the painting draws further attention to the center of the painting, emphasizing the wide open area they are walking into. The endlessness of the vista represents the endlessness of the journey they are on to find work and rise out of the poverty--and the seeming endlessness of the Great Depression. The shortness of the men's shadows show that the walk is taking place at mid-day, showing that the two men still have a long ways to go until they can rest with the night.

The postures of the two men emphasize the loneliness of the situation. Their faces and feet are not turned towards each other but towards the landscape in front of them. Had they faced each other or had the one person put his arm on the other's shoulder, this could have been a painting of friendship and cooperation in the midst of hopelessness and despair. Instead, their facing the terrain in front of them gives one the sense that these are not friends but two lonely individuals who decided to walk together in the search for better opportunities and better lives. As soon as they have found their opportunity, they are likely to separate. This, in turn, serves as a valuable commentary and social realist critique of a society where excessive individualism encourages people seeking their own individual success without cooperating with others. Americans have become too selfish and individualistic in their pursuit of the American Dream and they need to overcome that excessive individualism to overcome societal challenges. In this way, not only is this a "destination to nowhere" in geographical terms but in societal terms--if society continues along an excessively individual road without regard to the collective welfare it will get to nowhere. This is an implicit critique that the excessive individualism and greed of bankers and speculators is what led to the Great Depression in the first place. Collective cooperation is needed in the face of excessive individualism to fully solve the problems of the Depression and to get anywhere rather than nowhere.

Forgotten Man, another Dixon Depression Era painting

While a social realist critique of society, the painting also draws upon Dixon's earlier regionalist style in the natural background of the picture. It is a Western landscape, a desert with mountains in the background. The use of the desert as an image supports the feelings of loneliness and insecurity of the time. The dry, barren land represents the economic conditions of the Great Depression, the hot desert the harshness of society. The use of bland red, brown and grey colors rather than more vivid or lively colors signify the blandness of the time. Using the Western landscape as the background in a painting otherwise involved with a social realist critique represents a merger of the two styles of regionalism and social realism by Dixon.

At first glance, I did not like the painting very much. It is bland and there is nothing grand or beautiful about it. But after taking a deeper look I find it more interesting than I did at first. It effectively symbolizes the emotions of hopelessness and insecurity faced by people during the Great Depression and reminds me that similar conditions are still faced by some today.
　
Sources　
Hagerty, Donald J. The Art and Life of Maynard Dixon. New York: Gibss Smith, 1993.
McKay, Jayne. Maynard Dixon: the artist, the poet, and the man.

Wikipedia. Maynard Dixon.

Yellow Wallpapers

The Yellow Wallpaper was written by Charlotte Perkins Gilman and published in 1892. It is quite a strange, creeping story. Written in the first person, it is the story of a woman who is mentally sick and whose physician husband has confined her to the upstairs bedroom in a mansion rented over the summer. She is forbidden from working and is only rarely allowed to have visits. She is also forbidden from writing, though she continues to write down her journal entries -- these entries are what tells us the story. Her doctor husband says she has a "temporary nervous depression--a slight hysterical tendency."

Over time, with nothing else to do, the woman becomes obsessed with the pattern and color of the yellow wallpaper in the room. In the end, she comes to believe that there is a woman held captive behind the patterns of the wallpaper--and eventually finds out that she is that woman. She has a total mental break-down and ends up creeping around in her own room, locked so that she cannot leave. "For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow. But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way." The story ends with her husband finding the key, coming in, then fainting at the weird sight of his creepy wife before him!

Quite an interesting story. Reading more about it on the trusted site Wikipedia, one finds that Charlotte Gilman actually wrote this story from her own experience. She had a mental breakdown and her doctor, Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, put her on a similar rest cure, forbidding her from painting or writing and allowing her only two hours of stimulation a day. Almost giving up after three months with this rest cure, Gilman decided to work again and eventually overcame her condition. She then wrote this story as a response to her situation and sent it in to Dr. Mitchell - but never received a response. Dr. Mitchell, apparently, never did change his methods...

I personally like this story a lot because of the mental insanity presented. It makes one stop to think about the mental capabilities of humans - and the possibilities of mental disease. Most of us think we live a "normal" life in a "normal" world but among us are those who suffer from some kind of mental illness or another - and we may not always know about it. Perhaps we're even partially to blame for giving these people a similar kind of "rest treatment." After all, mental illnesses are rarely openly talked about, the subject is taboo and if you've been clinically diagnosed as having some kind of mental disease, you're probably not likely to go around and tell everyone about it. Just as the woman in the Yellow Wallpaper was given this rest cure by her husband, so we may be giving each other the rest cure culturally by avoiding talking about certain subjects. And mental illness is just one of them.

But, what subjects, really, should we even openly talk about? America and the world, in general, has moved towards greater openness for many decades now - the progressive movement, the 20's, the 60's, the civil rights movement, the sexual revolution, feminism - have resurrected many topics from the tombs of taboos to public discussion. Feminism is another interpretation of The Yellow Wallpaper - while it is a story of mental disease, it is also a story of the repression of women by men inasmuch as the woman's husband is the one prescribing the rest cure and keeping her confined. Society has gotten better as we have become more open about such subjects. But are there limits?

Openness is good but --

Not if it leaves you out on the cold...

America has successfully rid itself of many yellow wallpapers - but are we going to far? Pushing our limits? Instead of just letting the old yellow wallpaper go, are we breaking down the wall itself? Pushing all limits until we find ourselves in the cold because we have too much freedom and no more shelter? Is it really a good thing to let the whole world know, via facebook, messenger or whatever, our most private thoughts and the intimate details of our relationships? Have we gone too far?
Or are there more yellow wallpapers to tear down still?

Daisy Miller: Meet Mazy Diller

The following is a modern rewriting and abbreviation of the original "Daisy Miller" story written by Henry James in 1878. Whereas the original story contrasts the upper class condition of Mr. Winterbourne to the newly rich condition of a flirtatious Daisy Miller, the following contrasts modern American feminism with Utah Mormon culture.  

Mazy Diller: A Study

    At the town of Provo, in Utah, there is a fairly well renowned university located, Brigham Young University. Attracting some 30,000 students throughout the year, there are currently far fewer students due to the time, it being the month of June. Ronald Summer was one of the few students who stayed in school this time of year. He had come from the state of Oklahoma to study and lived with his aunt, Mrs. Summer, in the tree streets close to campus. While he was a mid-Westerner by nature and custom, he had an old attachment for this metropolis of Mormonism; he had lived here for two years as a young teenage boy and was now back for college. Twenty-two years old and a returned missionary for his faith, he had been encouraged by his mother to go study at BYU to find a good Mormon girl to marry.
    At this moment, Ronald was tending to the needs of his aunt. She was usually very sick and when she had health she would either do her genealogy or try to convert the old man across the street from Presbyterianism to the Mormon Church. Occasionally, she would sew some clothes for that old man, Mr. Diller, and as she had a few items to return but did not feel disposed to leave the house in her current condition, she asked Ronald to return the clothes.
    Ronald walked across the street and knocked at the old man’s door which was presently opened by somebody unexpected: a young woman. She was his own age, dressed in tight black shorts and a yellow t-shirt. Her hair was blonde and her eyes signaled straight-forwardness and energy; she was strikingly, admirably beautiful.
    “What do you want?” asked the girl in a slightly impatient, yet not demeaning, tone of voice. “How hot she is!” thought Ronald, composed himself and replied, “Is Mr. Diller available?”
    “Yes he is. Just one moment,” said the girl and went back into the house to find Mr. Diller. Disappointed in himself for having let her go so quickly, Ronald soon found himself facing Mr. Diller at the door.
    “Yes?”
    “I am Mrs. Summer’s nephew. She asked me to bring you these,” said Ronald, pointing to the stack of clothes in his arms. Mr. Diller received the clothes, graciously, while Ronald tried to find an excuse to somehow see the beautiful girl again. Finally, he had an idea, telling Mr. Diller, “My aunt would be glad to help fix more clothes if you have the need.”
    “That’s very kind of your aunt. Why don’t you come inside while I look?”
    Feeling victorious, Ronald walked inside, closing the door behind him. He took off his shoes in the entrance room and looked around the living room while Mr. Diller went upstairs to look for more clothes. The living room was slightly dark; the only light it received was from the sun through the windows on the sides. Behind the living room, however, was a kitchen room lighted up and in the front of the kitchen room was a wooden table whereby the blonde girl was sitting, typing away on her laptop. She glanced up at him, with that beautiful mysterious smile, and then continued typing. It was clear to Ronald that her short glance, and occupation with the laptop, was not due to shyness; no, she seemed too independent a spirit for that to be the case. It was rather a firm commitment to the process of writing that propelled her to look up for just a brief amount of time.
    “Are you family to Mr. Diller?” Ronald asked, attempting to start a conversation.
    “Yes, I’m his granddaughter,” said the girl, without looking up.
    “What is your name?” he asked, trying to start a conversation again.
    “Just a moment, let me finish this up first,” she said. Her delayed answer to such a simple question seemed curious to Ronald. It seemed to reflect a firm independence of mind, an unrelenting commitment to finish first one’s own work before engaging with others.
    Another quiet minute went by until the girl seemed done with her present work. “I’m Mazy. Mazy Diller,” she said matter-of-factly. “What’s your name?”
    It turned into more conversation than Ronald had hoped for. He soon found out that Mazy did not live with her grandfather, but in an apartment at Wyview. She visited her grandfather in the weekend, however, apparently to fulfill a familiar duty and help him feel less lonely. She was originally from Virginia but had come to BYU for school. “I thought I’d try something different,” she said, with emphasis on he word ’different.’ She was majoring in accounting and preparing to apply to various business schools for graduate study. An economics major himself, Ronald found they shared some of the same interests and a discussion on the problems and solutions of the current financial crisis soon ensued—only to be interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Diller with a new stack of clothes for the fixing.
    “Well, I hope to see you on campus, it would be fun to continue this discussion,” Ronald told the girl and then got up his courage as he was about to ask her out. But she pre-empted him. “Yes, why don’t we meet at Olive Garden?” she asked with that same mysterious smile on her lips, a smile Ronald couldn’t quite tell the meaning of. Though not expecting to be the one asked out, Ronald assented and Mazy and he exchanged their contact information and planned a time to meet.
    Biding farewell to Mazy and Mr. Diller, Ronald went out with the new stack of clothes in his arms and said to himself that here was truly an independent girl.

His aunt, however, seemed less impressed. “The girl, yes,” said Mrs. Summer. “I have observed her. And kept out of her way.”
    He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Mazy was not very highly considered by his aunt. “It seems you do not approve of her,” he said.
    “She is not a member,” Mrs. Summer declared. “And she is hardly likely to ever become one.”
    “Why is that so?” said the young man.
    “She comes from a very politically progressive family,” she said, with a negative emphasis on the word ‘progressive.’ “Her parents never married; in fact they live like hippies. I hear she is very feminist and that her role model is Hillary Clinton. I don’t think she likes the Church either.”
    “But she is a student at BYU. She has signed the Honor Code.”
    “Perhaps so, but she does not seem like a person of honor to me.”
    “She is very pretty.”
    “She may be pretty, but mark my word, nothing good will come from a girl like her.”

Something good did come, however, in Ronald’s estimation. The first date with Mazy went well and it soon led to a second, which led to a third and then a fourth. He found that he liked her independent mind, her ability to speak and think for herself. He could listen to her for hours, looking into her bright blue eyes, admiring her beautiful blonde hair. He enjoyed her laughter when they watched funny movies together, her freshness and courage in trying all the tougher rides at the Lagoon, without pause; it was simply a thrill to experience life together with her.
    He also found, however, that his aunt was at least partially right. She did not seem a huge fan of the Church and openly accused the Utah culture for being too patriarchal and male-dominant. It did not shake Ronald too much, though it did cause him to wonder at times. But then he remembered her better parts, her beauty, and her compellingly attractive and independent personality - in spite of potential disagreements there did not seem to be any major reasons for stopping the process of getting to know her more.
    While Mrs. Summer was still suspicious, she seemed to reluctantly accept Ronald’s interest in Mazy. In fact, Ronald even had the two meet at his aunt’s house. True to form and to her faith, Mrs. Summer invited Mazy to come attend their local Mormon congregation. “If you want to know my nephew better, you should know more about our faith.” Mazy accepted without reluctance and they arranged for Ronald to accompany her to church the following Sunday.

“It’s called a testimony meeting. Anyone who wants to can get up and bear their testimony, or witness, of their faith,” Ronald explained to Mazy.
    What he did not expect, however, was for Mazy to take that as a challenge to walk up herself and bear her own kind of testimony. As Mazy approached the stand, Mrs. Summer gave Ronald a reproving look as if to say, “What is she doing up there?”
    Having arrived at the stand, Mazy started talking. “I am just a visitor but I would like to bear my witness of faith as well. I believe in Jesus Christ and in his love for us, especially in the example he has set for us to follow. Sometimes we do not follow that example very well, however.”
    “So far, so good” said Mrs. Summer, as though expecting things to get worse.
    “What many Christians tend to forget, however, is that Jesus spoke less about commandments and more about helping out the poor. Jesus Christ was ahead of his time, a true progressive. He set an example for us to follow in taking care of our poor and in his estimation of women. Women were equals among his disciples and…”
    Mrs. Summer stood up and made her way to the stand while Mazy continued her speech. Ronald sensed a potential confrontation looming. It did not look good.
    “Just as Jesus despised the male-dominant society of his day, putting Mary Magdalene and Martha in his inner circle of friends and disciples, so should we follow the teaching of love, compassion, tolerance and equality that Jesus exemplified—and work for a better world, a world of equality where women and men can stand as equals in the church and in our culture. As long as male dominance reigns in the churches and in the nation we are missing a very important part of the teachings of Jesus. ”
    Almost as soon as Mazy had finished her speech, Mrs. Summer stood at the podium to bear her testimony. Ronald prayed she wouldn’t say anything too offensive to Mazy but alas, he knew his aunt too well.
    “Dear brothers and sisters, I want to bear to you my testimony today of the importance of the Priesthood in my life. I have always appreciated the worthiness of my deceased husband and of all the other men in my family who have honorably held and exercised the Priesthood. I know that the Priesthood was restored from God through Joseph Smith and that we will be blessed as we submit ourselves to our Priesthood leadership. We live in a nation where morals are crumbling and the family is crumbling. What we need most of all today is a true understanding of the place of the family in society; of honor and respect to those whom honor and respect are due. A woman should never think herself superior to her husband for as Paul said, the head of the woman is the husband and the head of the husband is Christ. I know that when we keep sacred the order of the family we will be blessed and will prosper, but when we do not, we will experience the judgments of God upon this nation.”
    By now, Mazy was sitting down next to Ronald again. She looked him into the eyes with a stare of reproof whispering, perhaps a bit too loud, “I hope you don’t believe that.”
    “I wouldn’t say it quite the way my aunt put it, but I do believe in the Priesthood and in the traditional family,” Ronald said but wondered afterwards if it had been right of him to say that. Mazy seemed upset about the answer and turning her head away from Ronald she said “your aunt is a slave to your culture.”
    “And you are a feminazi!” whispered the aunt confrontationally as she arrived to sit back down on the aisle together with Ronald and Mazy. At this, Mazy stood up and walked out of the room. Ronald was just about to follow her, but Mrs. Summer stopped him. “Forget about her, she’s too far out. Besides, testimony meeting isn’t done yet. You should be reverent and stay till it’s over.”
   
That Sunday turned out the last time Ronald had any kind of serious contact with Mazy. Mazy was dismissive of him every time he contacted her by phone or by the door, all she did was express disappointment of the “Mormon culture” and how Ronald was no different. “I should have known,” she said one time.
    “Will you give me just one more chance?” asked Ronald.
    “I can’t. I’m done with this repressive culture and I’m done with you. As long as you believe in that repressive ‘Priesthood’ of yours I have nothing to do with you.”
    There was nothing to do. Disappointed and depressed, Ronald let her go. Nothing seemed to matter much anymore for a while. Instead of spending time with Mazy, Ronald now stayed more at home with his aunt, helping her sew Mr. Diller’s clothes. One day he spoke of her to his aunt—said it was on his conscience that he had done her injustice.
    “I am sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. Summer. “What kind of injustice that could be?”
    Ronald made no reply.

A few weeks afterwards, Mazy went back to Virginia for further graduate study while Ronald stayed in Provo, whence there continue to come the most contradictory accounts of his motives of sojourn: a report that he is “studying” hard—an intimation that he is much interested in a very clever theologically foreign lady.