“Edward Hopper’s art is highly provocative and often disturbing. His contemplative figures appear to be alienated from society and to occupy a world devoid of interaction and communication. They never smile or frown, and their attitudes and expressions suggest unapproachableness. These introspective figures convey an inner turmoil that can provide questions about relationships, the roles people play in society, and the meaning of life.”[i]

Edward Hopper
“Sketch for Hotel Lobby”
Conte crayon and graphite on paper
8 7/16″ x 10 15/16″
Josephine N. Hopper Bequest, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

When studying several of Hopper’s sketches for this painting, it becomes clear that he was really searching, working out the space and placement for the lobby and the people inhabiting that space. Five or six different figures were placed in various positions within the composition, including one, a desk clerk, who is hidden in the background behind a lamp in the office. Figures of both men and women are substituted for each other in order to achieve the balance that he desired.

D.W. Hardwick
“Study #2 from the Hotel Lobby”
Graphite on paper
6″ x 8″
Private Collection, Indianapolis, Indiana

For many years of my teaching career, we would visit the Indianapolis Museum of Art and draw directly from the objects in their collection. There are several works by Edward Hopper housed there, including “American Landscape,” “New York, New Haven and Hartford” and the “Hotel Lobby” from 1943. Especially important in this learning process is to discover the underlying architecture of any work of art, not just the surface illusions. Two such examples are shown above and below this paragraph. Drawings made on the spot in the museum and showing both space and movement and the tonal juxtapositions that occur in the original. They were completed by Darryl W. Hardwick during the summer session of 1976.

D.W. Hardwick
“Study #1 from the Hotel Lobby”
Graphite on paper
6″ x 8″
Private Collection, Indianapolis, Indiana

The poet Raymond Carver in his collection titled Ultramarine of 1987 took on a similar subject. Not directly written after this painting, the parallels however are so striking that one might do a double take. A quiet, perfectly still scene, with the various characters going about their daily routines. Structured and written to lead us into this particular space. Introspective, with the possibility of great turmoil.

“In the Lobby of the Hotel del Mayo”

“The girl in the lobby reading a leather-bound book.
The man in the lobby using a broom.
The boy in the lobby watering plants.
The desk clerk looking at his nails. The woman in the lobby writing a letter.
The old man in the lobby sleeping in his chair.
The fan in the lobby revolving slowly overhead.
Another hot Sunday afternoon.

Suddenly, the girl lays her finger between the pages of her book.
The man leans on his broom and looks.
The boy stops in his tracks.
The desk clerk raises his eyes and stares.
The woman quits writing.
The old man stirs and wakes up.
What is it?

Someone is running up from the harbor.
Someone who has the sun behind him.
Someone who is barechested.
Waving his arms.

It’s clear something terrible has happened.
The man is running straight for the hotel.
His lips are working themselves into a scream.

Everyone in the lobby will recall their terror.
Everyone will remember this moment for the rest of their lives.”[ii]

Edward Hopper
“Hotel Lobby”
Oil on canvas
32 1/4″ x 40 3/4″
Williams Ray Adams Memorial Collection, Indianapolis Museum of Art, Indianapolis, Indiana


[i] Warkel, Harriet G.; Paint to Paper: Edward Hopper’s Hotel Lobby; Indianapolis Museum of Art; Indianapolis, Indiana; 2008; p. 11.

[ii] Carver, Raymond; “In the Lobby of the Hotel del Mayo,” Ultramarine: Poems; Random House; New York, New York; 1987; pp. 75-76.


Jim Dine
“Untitled (Pliers)”
Graphite, charcoal and crayon on paper
25 5/8″ x 19 3/4″
Museum of Modern Art, New York

“I love the tools made for mechanics. I stop at the windows of hardware stores. If I could only find an excuse to buy many more of them than I have already bought on the pretense that I might have use for them! They are so beautiful, so simple and plain and straight to their meaning. There is no ‘Art’ about them, they have not been made beautiful, they are beautiful.”

“Someone has defined a work of art as a ‘thing beautifully done.’ I like it better if we cut away the adverb and preserve the word ‘done,’ and let it stand alone in its fullest meaning. Things are not done beautifully. The beauty is an integral part of their being done.”[i]

Jim Dine
“Untitled (Brace and Bit)”
Graphite, charcoal and crayon on paper
25 5/8″ x 19 3/4″
Museum of Modern Art, New York

A wrench, a brace or a pair of pliers, along with pencils and brushes, are all literal extensions of the human hand. Metaphorically, as artists we also speak of finding our own hand, or discovering one’s touch. Poets speak of finding their own voice. This is often a difficult process, which takes a lot of work. To accomplish this work, we use the tools that are near at hand.

This idea has echoes both across and beyond our borders. Whether it might be the great simplicity in a Shaker building or chair, or the profound Japanese insight into beauty, the tools that allow us to produce the hand-made object are of utmost importance.

In his great treatise on craftsmanship and the making of certain objects, Soetsu Yanagi wrote that: “They are made without obsessive consciousness of beauty; thus we catch a glimpse of what is meant by ‘no-mindedness,’ whereby all things become simplified, natural, and without contrivance.”[ii]

Similarly, Faith and Edward Demming Andrews have observed the work and the laws of the Shakers:   “All beauty that has not a foundation in use, soon grows distasteful, and needs continual replacement with something new. That which has in itself the highest use possesses the greatest beauty.”[iii]

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Dwelling House Interior, Hancock Shaker Village”
Color photograph
Hancock, Massachusetts

“The craftsmanship of the Shakers was an integral part of the life and thought of a humble but consecrated folk. They did not think of the work of their hands—in building, in joinery, in industrial pursuit of every kind—as an art, something special or exclusive, but rather as the right way of sustaining their church order, the ideal of a better society. For them the machine or tool was a ‘servant force.’ It was the purpose of work which was important. This led to a manner of work, which in turn gave a common character—an integrity, a harmony, a subtle but identifiable quality to all the labor of their hands.”[iv]

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Dwelling House Interior, Hancock Shaker Village”
Color photograph
Hancock, Massachusetts

And in the end, it is a reminder to all artists that “The thing shines, not the maker.…and therefore whatever is made is lovely.”[v]


[i] Henri, Robert; The Art Spirit, Basic Books, New York, New York; 2007; p. 53.

[ii] Yanagi, Soetsu; The Unknown Craftsman; Kodansha International; Tokyo, New York and London; 1972 & 1989; p. 203.

[iii] Andrews, Edward Deming, and Faith Andrews; Religion in Wood: A Book of Shaker Furniture; Indiana University Press; Bloomington and London; 1966; p. 15.

[iv] Andrews, Edward Deming, and Faith Andrews; Religion in Wood: A Book of Shaker Furniture; p. 14.

[v] Yanagi, Soetsu; The Unknown Craftsman; p. 200.


“His Bathrobe Pockets Stuffed with Notes”

“The early sixteenth-century Belgian painter called, for want of his real name, The Master of the Embroidered Leaf.

Those dead birds on the porch when I opened up the house after being away for three months.

Remember Haydn’s 104 symphonies. Not all of them were great. But there were 104 of them.”[i]

Albert Pinkham Ryder
“Dead Bird”
Oil on wood panel
4 3/8” x 10”
The Phillips Collection, Washington, DC.

This terrible but beautiful image of a dead bird has always been one of the most haunting paintings in the Phillips Collection in Washington, DC. Just over four inches high it is an important example of works of art that are intimate in size and grand in spirit. Their effect remains with the viewer long after stepping outside of the museum.

Raymond Carver used this technique on several occasions in his work, especially in his collection A New Path to the Waterfall. Small statements, snippets really, are concise and to the point. 16th Century illuminations, dead birds on the front porch, or an incident involving Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington all incorporate the painterly criteria of ‘economy of means.’ Compression.

Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Red and Pink Rocks with Teeth” at the Art Institute of Chicago, Jan Vermeer’s “Girl in the Red Hat” at the National Gallery in Washington and Ryder’s “Dead Bird” mentioned above are all small in size but powerful in scale. Why should this be? Perhaps it was the desire of certain figurative painters and Imagist poets for the significant detail: to rivet the universal with the particular. Or, the suggestion made several times by William Carlos Williams throughout his epic poem Patterson to “Say it! No ideas, but in things.”[ii]

Whether it was the search for an American idiom or a single image out of the mass of chaos, Williams would ask of us: “What common language to unravel?”[iii] For both the poet and the painter it would be the process of finding one’s own vision or voice coming out of “…a mass of detail to interrelate on a new ground…pulling the disparate together to clarify and compress.”[iv]

“Because the sun was behind them
their shadows came first and then
the birds themselves.”[v]

Susan Rothenberg
“Blue Bird Wings”
Oil on canvas
Private collection

To make an image or an object one’s own is to have a signature that comes out of the process of creating that image. Idiosyncratic imagery, like that in Ryder’s painting, has been the trademark of a certain few artists: as in the work of Musa McKim or Leonard Baskin or Susan Rothenberg; Raymond Carver or Kim Fuelling or Michael Ondaatje. These images will speak for themselves, as any real painting or drawing or poem will.

Leonard Baskin
“Dead Bird”
c. 1950’s
1” x 2”
Michelson Galleries, Northampton, Massachusetts

“Through the Boughs”

“Down below the window, on the deck, some ragged-looking birds gather at the feeder. The same birds, I think, that come every day to eat and quarrel. Time was, time was, they cry and strike at each other. It’s nearly time, yes. The sky stays dark all day, the wind is from the west and won’t stop blowing. . . . Give me your hand for a time. Hold on to mine. That’s right, yes. Squeeze hard. Time was we thought we had time on our side. Time was, time was, those ragged birds cry.”[vi]

Kim Fuelling
“Fallen Bird”
c. 1998
Graphite on paper
8” x 10”
Courtesy of the artist, Zionville, North Carolina

“Application for a Driving License”

“Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feathers
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.

I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.”[vii]

[i] Carver, Raymond; “His Bathrobe Pockets Stuffed with Notes;” A New Path to the Waterfall; The Atlantic Monthly Press; New York, New York; 1989; pp. 64-66.

[ii] Williams, William Carlos; Patterson; New Directions Publishing Corporation; New York, New York; 1992; p. 7.

[iii] Williams, William Carlos; Patterson; p. 9.

[iv] Williams, William Carlos; Patterson; p. 19.

[v] McKim, Musa; Alone With the Moon, Selected Writings; The Figures; Great Barrington, Massachusetts; 1994; p. 137.

[vi] Carver, Raymond; “Through the Boughs;” A New Path to the Waterfall; p. 120.

[vii] Ondaatje, Michael; “Application for a Driving License;” The Cinnamon Peeler; Vintage International; New York, New York; 1997; p. 14.


“The Calf Bearer”
c. 570 BC
65″ high
Acropolis Museum, Athens

It could have been a reference to an ancient or biblical theme, the good shepherd or the calf bearer. An image of a man carrying a calf or a sheep on his shoulders, having just rescued it, and returning it to the flock. Pablo Picasso used many such themes and ideas in his work, however, he usually denied it in reference to this particular piece. “The man could just as well be carrying a pig as a sheep! There is no symbolism in it. It is just something beautiful.”[i]

Pablo Picasso
“The Man with the Sheep”
222.5 x 78 x 78 cm
Musee Picasso, Paris

Shifting back and forth from serious to playful, perhaps he is being sly or evasive? Or surrealistic and poetic like his friend of more than forty years, Max Jacob? Picasso and Jacob met in 1901 and became fast friends. Jacob was the first Parisian to teach Picasso French. And, as an early art critic, he wrote enthusiastically about Picasso’s work. Jacob was also a painter, cubist/surrealist poet, bon vivant, homosexual and a Jew. As described by Roger Shattuck, the beginning of the 20th Century was an exhilerating time: “In its early demonstrations the avant-garde remained a true community, loyal to itself and to its time…. Painters, writers, and musicians lived and worked together and tried their hands at each other’s arts in an atmosphere of perpetual collaboration.”[ii]

“When you paint a picture, it completely changes with each brushtroke, turning like a cylinder, almost interminably. When it stops turning, it’s finished. My latest was a Tower of Babel made of lighted candles.”[iii]

Max Jacob was originally from Quimper in Brittany, France. A street, a bridge, a high school and even the courtyard of the house at 8, rue de Parc, in Quimper bear his name. The Musee des Beaux-Arts in Quimper even has a room dedicated to Jacob featuring his drawings, paintings, and manuscripts. It was there, during the summer of 1997 that I first learned about several details of his life. In Quimper and in Paris during the summer of 1994—the 50th anniversary of Jacob’s death, there was an exhibition documenting this almost lifelong friendship between Max Jacob and Pablo Picasso.

“All it takes is a five-year-old in pale overalls drawing in a coloring book for a door to open into the light, for the house to be built again and the ochre hillside covered with flowers.”[iv]

Pablo Picasso
“Study for The Man with the Sheep”
Pen and ink with washes on paper
51 1/8″ x 20″
Musee Picasso, Paris

Picasso claims to have completed “The Man with the Sheep” in a burst of spontaneous energy in just one day. It was first in plaster, with the legs a bit too thin to support the upper half, so he and an assistant hoisted it up with ropes, he finished what needed to be done, and then had it cast in bronze right away. However, there are several drawings made as studies for this piece from the previous year. Not only was the position of the sheep not to his liking, but the head of the figure went through several stages: a younger man, then an older one; a clean shaven figure, then a bearded one, and so on.

Pablo Picasso
“Studies for The Man with the Sheep”
Pen and ink on paper
Musee Picasso, Paris
Robert Capa
“Picasso in the Grands-Augustins studio, with ‘Man With a sheep’ plaster version”
B&W photograph
Musee Picasso, Paris

At the end he, Picasso, modelled the face of his friend Max Jacob onto this figure. When the piece had been cast, Picasso placed it at the top of the stairs to his studio on the rue des Grands-Augustins. Often SS Officers would climb just to the top of the stairs in surprise inspections and be met by the “Man Holding a Sheep.” They looked quickly around and returned down to the street, not realizing that Jacob had been looking down on them. Max Jacob had been arrested by the SS earlier, and was in the process of being shipped to Auschwitz, however, he died from bronchial pneumonia while in one of the deportation camps at Drancy, France.

“The Yellow Star Again”

“Are those beets your dog’s eating?”
“No, it’s a Jew who fell in the snow.”
“They could find some other place to faint instead of my sidewalk.”[v]


[i] Bernadac, Marie-Laure; Picasso Museum, Paris: The Masterpieces; Reunion des Musees Nationaux and Prestel; Paris and munich; 1991; p. 162.

[ii] Shattuck, Roger; The Banquet Years: The Origins of the Avant-Garde in France 1885 to World War I; Vintage Books, Random House; New York, New York; 1968; p. 28.

[iii] Kulik, William, editor and translater; The Selected Poems of Max Jacob; Oberlin College Press; Oberlin, Ohio; 1999; p. 57.

[iv] Kulik, William, editor and translater; The Selected Poems of Max Jacob; p. 129.

[v] Kulik, William, editor and translater; The Selected Poems of Max Jacob; p. 122.


“Here is the test of wisdom,
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.”[i]

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Le geant du Manio, c.6,000-4,000BC, Carnac, France”
Color photograph

Our students at the Pont-Aven School of Contemporary Art in 1995 and 1997 often asked us, having seen pre-historic sites for the first time: how did these people know that they could build something that would last over a thousand years? The site of the Alignements at Carnac in Brittany, France is possibly one or two thousand years older than Stonehenge and constructed by what we now know to be a pre-Druidic culture. Stone constructions known as dolmens are found throughout Brittany and in Carnac proper there are alignements of stones, as many as two or three thousand, always arranged on an east to west axis, which allows for each stone to annually throw its shadow on its neighbor at both sunrise and sunset during the summer solstice.

“That grosbois is oak, ash, elm,

beech, horsbeche & hornbeam
but of acorns tithe shall be paid
For every lamb a penny

time out of mind

one lira per sheep nel Tirolo
sale must be in place overt

not in a backe-room
& between sun-up & sun-down

dies solaris
ut pena ad paucos

metus ad omnes perveniat
of 2 rights the more ancient preferred
caveat emptor.”[ii]

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Newspaper Rock, c. 100BC-1500AD, Moab, Utah”
Color photograph

Following my teaching assignments in France in 1995 and 1997 we went on several family trips to Alaska and Canada and to the Four Corners area of the lower forty-eight. Near Moab, Utah there is the site known as Newspaper Rock, which contains dozens of images inscribed into the surface of the rock face over hundreds of years. There are examples of at least three successive Native American cultures, including Anasazi, Navajo and Ute. They are pictographs and petroglyhps: images full of meaning. Similar images seem to appear in several other cultures around the world. In Wrangell Bay, Alaska, there are stones containing petroglyphs which can be seen only at low tide. They are approximately 8,000 years old and carved by the ancesters of today’s Tlingit people.

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Petroglyph, c. 6,000BC, Wrangell Bay, Alaska”
Color photograph

“What do you think endures? . . . .”

“A great city is that which has the greatest men and women,
If it be a few ragged huts it is still the greatest city in the whole world.”

“Than this nothing has better served, it has served all,
Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek, and long ere the Greek,
Served in building the buildings that last longer than any, . . . .
Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi. . . .
Served the Albic temples in woods or on plains, with unhewn pillars and the druids. . . .
Served those who time out of mind made on the granite walls rough sketches of the sun, moon, stars, ships, ocean waves,

Richard Emery Nickolson
“Newspaper Rock, c. 100BC-1500AD, Moab, Utah”
Color photograph

Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths. . . .
Served the long distant Kelt. . . .
Served the making of helms for the galleys of pleasure and the making of those for war,
Served all great works on land and all great works on the sea,
For the medieval ages and before the medieval ages,
Served not the living only then as now, but served the dead.”[iii]

Time out of mind.


[i] Whitman, Walt; Selected Poems; Gramercy Books; New York, New York and Avenel, New Jersey; 1992; p. 153.

[ii] Pound, Ezra; The Cantos of Ezra Pound; New Directions Publishing Corporation; New York, New York; 1979; p. 769.

[iii] Whitman; Selected Poems; pp. 131-134.


There is this photograph, all stark, black & white. It is haunting, shocking and a bit punked out, but it was not taken by Robert Mapplethorpe. A young woman all shaggy, crazy, in a camisole with arms raised: a beautiful black & white study, but again, not by Robert Mapplethorpe and the subject is not Patti Smith. It is Georgia O’Keeffe as photographed by Alfred Stieglitz.

Alfred Stieglitz. “Portrait of Georgia O’Keeffe”
Gelatin silver print
23.5 cm x 15.4 cm
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Georgia O’Keeffe [i]
In many ways they set New York City and the art world on fire in the 1920’s. And would it be any different today? In 2010 Patti Smith published her autobiographical book Just Kids, wherein the feel of New York City and the ambience of the Chelsea Hotel are the background for many honest and lyrical memories of an otherwise decrepit downtown environment.

Smith has also written of other influences, amongst them: James Joyce, Arthur Rimbaud, Bob Dylan and Georgia O’Keeffe. In the art world, it seems like there is a parallel to the music world when it comes to the matter of a ‘folk tradition.’ Where one younger artist might hear of an old time tune or lyric and learn that song and then up-date it, adding a verse or two that applies to the current times. A thread that runs through the fabric of history. So Patti Smith has done exactly that in her poem/portrait of Georgia O’Keeffe.

georgia o’keeffe

“great lady painter
what she do now
she goes out with a stick
and kills snakes

georgia o’keeffe
all life still
cow skull
bull skull
no bull shit
pyrite pyrite
she’s no fool
started out pretty
pretty pretty girl

georgia o’keeffe
until she had her fill
painted desert
flower cactus
hawk and head mule
choral water color
red coral reef
been around forever

georgia o’keeffe
great lady painter
what she do now
go and beat the desert
stir dust bowl
go and beat the desert
snake skin skull
go and beat the desert
all life still”[ii]

Not to be outdone by the ‘punk’ music scene, Robbie Robertson’s solo studio albums following the breakup of The Band explored melancholy and meditative views of a variety of American cultural issues. He reflects upon the American West, the city of New Orleans and a variety of dream images including a long ago Georgia O’Keeffe. In a ‘talkin blues’ style these are modern musings, or even warnings, somewhat seductive and even dangerous.

“I remember the smell of burning leaves
And we were making love
She was like a young Georgia O’Keeffe
From another time
In an old abandoned railroad shack
One should never go
Where anything can happen….”[iii]


[i] Stieglitz, Alfred; Georgia O’Keeffe: A Portrait; The Metropolitan Museum of Art; New York, New York; 1978 & 1997; plate 9.

[ii] Smith, Patti; Early Work: 1970-1979; W. W. Norton & Company; New York & London; 1994; pp. 48-49.

[iii] Robertson, Robbie; “Day of Reckoning,” Storyville; audio recording GEFSD 24303; David Geffen Company; Ontario, Canada; 1991.


Lorenzo Ghiberti
“The Sacrifice of Isaac”
Gilt bronze
21″ x 17″
National Museum, Florence

“. . . God said to Abraham, ‘Kill me a son’
Abe says, ‘Man, you must be puttin’ me on’
God say, ‘No’ Abe say, ‘What?’
God say, ‘You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’, you better run’
Well, Abe says, ‘Where d’you want this killin’ done?’
God says, ‘Out on Highway 61’”[i]

It is one of the great Old Testament stories regarding Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Isaac in order to somehow and ultimately prove his faith. He struggled with this dearly. A very important depiction of this is the one above that Lorenzo Ghiberti used as the presentation piece for the commission of the bronze doors in the Basilica at Florence in 1401.

Another powerful image is an etching by Rembrandt in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. The processes of etching and drypoint not only illustrate the story but parallel the psychological struggle through physical struggle and manipulation of the medium. Rembrandt, always being a master of both the formal and the personal, combines these elements into a universal statement.

Rembrandt van Rijn
“The Sacrifice of Abraham”
Etching and drypoint
154 x 131 mm
The Art Institute of Chicago

We need only to come to the late 1960’s in America for several other critical examples. These years proved to be a shocking turning point in the lives of many people. Earlier civil rigths demonstrations had evolved into anti-war demonstrations. Meanwhile, a music and arts festival was held in a sleepy town in upstate New York in August 1969. But, by May of the next year, the Kent State Massacre had occurred.

John Filo
“Mary Vecchio cries over the body of one of the Kent State University students who had just been shot by Ohio National Guard soldiers on May 4, 1970”
B&W photograph
Courtesy of the Pulitzer Prize Foundation

Upon hearing of the massacre at Kent State and seeing this photograph for the first time, the singer songwriter Neil Young penned what would become an anthem performed by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young: “Ohio.”

“Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We’re finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.”[ii]

In 1978 Kent State University commissioned the sculptor George Segal to create a memorial to the people killed in the massacre. Segal chose as his theme the Old Testament story of Abraham and Isaac. Safe enough at the time. The piece was actually completed and about to be installed when the university had second thoughts. The sculpture was never installed and offered instead to the Princeton University Art Museum, where it now sits in the courtyard near the University Chapel.

The situation was offensive all the way around, but, it was most offensive because the Kent State officials did not want to be associated with the idea that one generation was willing to sacrifice another for the sake of a totally misguided involvement in a distant war.

George Segal
“Abraham and Isaac: In Memory of May 4, 1970, Kent State University”
The John B. Putnam Jr. Memorial Collection, Princeton University
Princeton, New Jersey

Although a very safe and more abstract memorial now occupies the spot of the Kent State Massacre, the question still remains, when and how will we ever learn to work to end war, rather than to invest in and profit from, the engagement in war?

“Now the roving gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61”[iii]


[i] Dylan, Bob; “Highway 61 Revisited,” Writings and Drawings; Alfred A. Knopf, Borzoi Books; New York, New York; 1973; pp. 196.

[ii] Young, Neil; “Ohio,” Live at Massey Hall, 1971; audio recording, BOOOMTPANG; Reprise Records; New York, New York; 2007.

[iii] Dylan, Bob; “Highway 61 Revisited,” Writings and Drawings; pp. 196.