Saturday, July 29, 2017

Rumba S,C,D; John Tyson; Three Brothers cont'd; Cinnamon and apple sauce

Girl from Guantanamo



Dance through life



John Tyson Vignettes

Carroll College art professor

b. 1930 - d. 1982

(a brief review on a dear friend:)

John Tyson and Wis Guthrie at Carroll College
Many years - we say again - before Dee came to Wisconsin
from Maryland I had a friend, now deceased,
named John Tyson, who was an art professor
at Carroll College. It was not university then.

John and I were fans of Jose Feliciano.
We liked, really grooved on his singing of Little Red Rooster.
I bought that now ecclesiastic rooster bird featured below
in memory of John and that song.
John has been written up in the raccoon previously.

This article appeared in a forerunner of The Sewer Raccoon News, a pioneering effort of this editor using a mimeo machine - remember them? - a periodical called Vulcan Weathervanes. It was called that because in 1981 when this article ran, yours truly was playing with F-I-R-E.

Playing with oxyacetelene fire, making and selling weathervanes. (And other firey engagements.)

A long-term friend, now deceased, was John Tyson. We should make that 
J-O-H-N   T-Y-S-O-N
one of the best friends this fire-player ever had.
Until shortly before his untimely death at age 52- of a heart attack - John was an art professor at Carroll College. He inspired me. I learned to weld because of him, and I learned to let my sculptures and other metal products rust because of his own rusty work. One day we took one of his large rusting steel mobiles and hung it in a tree at his farm and punctured multiple holes in it with a .22 caliber rifle.
At the Milwaukee Lake Front annual art festival he was juried permission to show, and he took ONE (1) pot, what he considered his best. He set it on the hood of his rusty pick-up. All the other artists had their customary partitions and tables loaded with saleable merchandise, but John Tyson took only his best effort, and sat in his folding chair next to the truck.

When drinking Harvey's Bristol Cream once in my living room, he accidentally spilled a little. A smigeon. Calling him on it scoldingly, he looked at me and took his glass and emptied it on the carpet, totally. We exchanged a long direct gaze, and then nearly ruptured our spleens with laugher. Over time, but too little, John Tyson taught me a lot.
The day he died he saw me passing on the road and waved.

The above ceramic dish molded in John's hands
holds the water of a just-watered houseplant.  Here his 
hastily Sharpie-scribbled black signature
is bone dry in the NW light of our bank of Odd Fellows windows.

Tyson pot 1968; KD cat 2016



Three Brothers, Bayview WI
2414 S. St Clair St


Milun Radicevic,  3 Bros. founder

Photo by Zoe Middleton

Our son Leland Dix at the Three Brothers with Zoe 

photo by Zoe Middleton


A favorite midnight snack

very simple fare
but cinnamon is contained
in our late mother Ruth's
Japanese bee hive keeper