Issue No. 5 │ April 2015

Excelsior ReView is produced by a committed staff of volunteers and highlights the creative and artistic talents of Excelsior’s worldwide as-sociation of students, alumni, exam takers, in-structors, professors, and staff. It is representa-tive of the diverse community that is Excelsior College.

Submissions are always being accepted. Guide-lines, information, and procedures are available at review.excelsior.edu.

Contributors

Issue 5April 2015

Ruth OlmstedEditor-in-Chief

Ron MilosManaging Editor

Larnice TetreaultDesign, Production

Bethany de BarrosAdministrator

Ross AcevedoPoetry Editor, Traffic Coordinator

Chris WestcottPoetry Editor

Susan WoernerFiction Editor

Chris JohnsonFiction Editor

Anne F. ConnorNon-Fiction Editor

Vaishali JahagirdarNon-Fiction Editor & Video

Stephen TytkoPhotography Editor

Mark KenyonPhotography Editor

Jason HughesArt Editor

David ShermanMusic Editor

Michele DutcherEditor-at-large, Communications

Art4 Ride to Salema

by Laura Eklund, Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Kentucky

11 Brud by Sandra Dutton, Faculty, Liberal Arts, New York

15 Summer Afternoon by Thomas Ask, Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

19 Winter Calm by Erin Morris, Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Arizona

27 Plein Air by Sandra Dutton, Faculty, Liberal Arts, New York

Non-Fiction7 Moving to Planet Claire With the B-52’s

by Amy Student, Faculty, New York

16 Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Photography by Michele Dutcher, Staff, New York

18 Reiterating Basic Leadership by Martin Vasquez, Alumnus, Veteran, Bachelor of Science in Liberal Arts, 2013, New York

23 What Do Writers See When They Look Inward? by Robert Galin, Alumnus, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies, 1984, Colorado

Photo6 Iceland Road

by Kayla May, Student, Bachelors in Nursing, New York

13 Ice by Alan Moorse, Staff, New York

17 Haleakala Sunrise by Charles Reichardt, Staff, New York

21 Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Photography by Michele Dutcher, Staff, New York

22 Iceland House by Kayla May, Student, Bachelors in Nursing, New York

Poem5 Sojourner

by Robert Galin, Alumnus, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies, 1984, Colorado

12 She by Tanya R. Whitney, Alumnus, Veteran, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Arts, 1988 Louisiana

On the CoverSummer Afternoon by Thomas Ask, page 15

Contributors

Disclaimer: any opinions expressed by the author(s) are solely their own and in no way reflect the policies of nor are they endorsed by Excelsior College.

Happenings and CommentsCongratulations to Wendy Trevor in her new position as Executive Director for the Excelsior Center for Excellence in Teaching, Learning and Assessment. Consolations to the Excelsior ReView staff for losing her guidance and thoughtfulness as Editor-in chief. Her replacement is Ruth Olmsted, School of Liberal Arts Program Director, who has already made considerable contributions.

“I love Excelsior ReView magazine. Its content distribution and appearance supersedes that of many other schools with similar publications. Not only does it bring us to the digital age with style, but with all of the other important attributes of the humanities that transcend time. Thanks so much for doing a great job!”

- Viondette Lopez Alumnus, Bachelor of Arts Liberal Studies, Virginia

Call for SubmissionsThe Excelsior ReView is accepting submissions for its next issue. Please read guidelines, requirements, and formats before sending material.

Inquiries may be directed to review@excelsior.edu.

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14 The Eros by Marck L. Beggs, Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Arkansas

20 Autism in a Boy Too Tall by Thomas Ask, Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

28 Jockeying a Horse Named Loser by Brett Stout, Student, South Carolina

30 Death by Video by Thomas Ask, Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

Video29 Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Video

by Michele Dutcher, Staff, New York

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Art

Ride to Salema by Laura Eklund Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Kentucky

I made the original sketch on a train ride from Lisbon, Portugal, to the Algarvae (Salema).

Dimensions: Size of original Art: 24"x 18" Medium: Oil on paper

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Poem

Sojourner by Robert Galin Alumnus, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies, 1984, Colorado

The sun leaves evidence of its existence-- A bright blue line sits on the mountain tops, there to meet the royal blue of twilight.Remnants of day move to one side as night takes its place, to be moved yet again for tomorrow.A shining star, not the North, is rising to join the lesser lights of its neighbors.The dark hue of night painstakingly reaches down its arms to the black rooftops of Earth, the pinnacles of land, the spires of this church.As the heavens descend, the outline of Earth blends with it, not totally lost as night matures.Human lights compete with nature’s for attention, yet, the natural light shines truer, for they will remain, beyond humanity, to light the night for sojourners yet to come.

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Photo

Iceland Road by Kayla May Student, Bachelors in Nursing, New York

This photo was taken from my cell phone in the world’s most beautiful kept secret... Iceland.

Camera: Cell Phone, Dimensions: 960 x 960, Horizontal Resolution: 96 dpi, Vertical Resolution: 96 dpi, Bit Depth: 24

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Non-Fiction

Moving to Planet Claire With the B-52’s by Amy Student Faculty, New York As I write this, I am listening to my B-52’s Pandora station and wondering how many people are actually doing the same. My hope is that everyone has at least one of their songs on their iPod, but that’s probably not true. B-52’s fans are far and few between. Some probably have bee-hives and red lips. Some probably live in their mothers base-ments at the age of 50. Some are probably just like me; young people just looking for a musical escape from the crap that goes on every day. Whatever they look like, I would love to invite them over to my house one day for a big party so that I could have some affirmation that I am not crazy. I want to know that there are other people in the world that believe in the power of the B-52’s.

The only person I know who likes the B-52’s is my dad, and I don’t even think he likes them that much. I never expected my football playing, Camaro driving, jock of a father to like a band as wacky as the B-52’s, but when he put the record on for the first time we instantly had something to connect us. I was 7 years old when I heard a song of theirs for the first time. “Planet Claire” had a way of making its way into nights of ping pong with my dad. He would share his albums with me, and I thought it was so cool that I was so young and knew what a vinyl record was. I wanted to know everything about them.

We had a collection of about 100, which I now know is not that many, but at the time it seemed like a whole new world to discover. I would sit on the floor of our basement for hours looking at the covers and wondering who all these awesome looking people were. I would tell my friends at school about the new songs I had heard, and would try to convince them to listen to them. My friends would humor me but quickly direct the conversation back to The Backstreet Boys or N’SYNC. It wasn’t like I didn’t like current music; I just didn’t feel like it said quite as much as the oldies.

The B-52’s have made me a music snob. I’m only interested in listening to music that ‘says’ something, even though most of their songs don’t seem to say much at all. Now, when I say that I like music that “says’ something, I mean that it is not just a bunch of terrible pick-up lines or a ballad expressing someone deep obsession with milkshakes. I like music that makes me feel an emotion, whether it be happy, sad or excited. I want to know that the person who is singing actually believes in the words coming out of their mouth, and that they want to get people excited about their music.

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The B-52’s got started in 1976 in Athens, Georgia. With a style stuck somewhere between new wave and 1960’s rock and roll they didn’t take off right away. It wasn’t until their first single, “Rock Lobster”, topped charts in 1978 that the band really be-came a success. Although most of their buzz was stuck underground, they still man-aged to pump out hit after hit until “Wild Planet” reached 18 on the Billboard 200. Even though their songs don’t make you think about life, they take you to a place where you don’t have to be part of the real world for a while. You get to be under water with a lobster, or on the road to your own Private Idaho. This band makes me feel like no matter where I am, a bee-hive and stirrup pants are acceptable, and that no matter what era my heart is in, I’ll still fit in.

I’ve never really lived up to any expectation of my parents, especially my dad. They don’t understand my passion for higher education and have never read anything that I have written. When I was in middle school my dad wanted nothing more than for me to play sports and be popular. I suffered through a few years of soccer, but was not much for the competitiveness. I eventually quit to pursue more “me” things, like drama club and band, but that did not change the passion my dad had for my sport-playing future. We were fighting every day, so I turned to music as an escape from all the yelling. The B-52’s reminded me not only that being wacky and out of the box is totally OK, but also that there is something that my father and I have in common. Even though neither one of us could see it, we were both members of the “Deadbeat Club” at heart.

All I ever wanted to do was escape to a faraway place. With my dad pushing me towards a life I wasn’t meant to lead, and a mother trying to “stay out of it”; being underwater with a rockin’ lobster sounded just like the place I needed to be. They have always been able to take me away from the hassle of everyday life and make me remember to have some fun. Even if my idea of fun wasn’t what my parents wanted for me, I was able to find a group of people who expressed believing in yourself as the only way to live. Secretly, I was hoping that my dad would remember the anthem of the B-52’s and get off my back, but it would be a long time before he would sing along with my “Song for a Future Generation.”

I didn’t want to accept that they were old news. My friends never let me forget just how far behind I was when it came to the Top 100, but I didn’t care. The B-52’s were brand new to me and spoke to something in me that longed to be in a different time. There has always been a bee-hive in my heart. My whole life I have wanted nothing more than to live in a different era. I know I wasn’t meant to be born in the 90’s, but maybe somewhere in the late 60’s. I have an old soul, and that has made it really

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hard for me to connect with the youngsters all around me. I believe in wholesome activities and making lifelong friendships. Although I’ve come to embrace technol-ogy, I still think there is nothing comparable to the sound of a record playing. The B-52’s retro sound brought out the sock-hopper in me. Even though the B-52’s were making music in the 80’s their style was still inspired by the do-wop times of the 60’s. Their music is easy to dance to and super fun. There is no violence or obscene language in any of their songs, which makes them nothing but a good time. Their generational displacement mimicked my own, which made me even more drawn to them. They were bringing 60’s glam to the poppy 80’s and not everyone was catch-ing on. Just like it took my parents a long time to accept my differences, the world also took its time accepting the B-52’s. We were both outcasts trying to bring back the beauty of the 60’s, the only difference was the B-52’s eventually became popular, while I was still stuck defending my social abnormalities.

The cover of their self-titled album featured all five of the band members. There were two women with giant hair, hair I always wanted, and three guys dressed in 1970’s chic. I wanted to be their friends so badly. They were obviously well-dressed and totally popular; they seemed like the perfect crowd to go dancing with or just to walk the halls of my square middle school. These people broke the mold, and I knew that I wanted to be part of their crowd. They made me think about my father’s own crowd in high school. Looking through his high school yearbook you see a bunch of bowl-cuts and perms, but nothing quite as crazy as the bee-hive that Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson were always rocking. My dad, however, was always sport-ing a bright red afro and tube socks. Now, I know that 70’s style was cruel, but he was obviously making no attempt to fit in, just like I had been doing all these years. Could he really be that surprised that I would follow in his off-beat footsteps? My dad was a popular guy who liked the B-52’s and had an afro, why did he think that I couldn’t do the same? I idolized the B-52’s because of their great style and sound. I wanted to be friends with them because they were the kinds of people my dad took after. If I could be like the B-52’s then just maybe my dad would see the merit in my kookiness. Maybe he would come to see that I had more to offer the world than just a good back swing. I hoped that being like the B52’s would bring him closer to me.

Even today I still cling to mine and my dad’s B-52 relationship. Whenever we work on things around the house together or are driving in the car I always make sure that the B-52’s are playing. I don’t just want him to love me; I want him to actually like me. By playing the B-52’s there is no reason why he shouldn’t. Our differences over the years have made it really difficult for either one of us to really open up to one an-

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other. We have no idea what the one thinks of the other. I hope deep down in my heart, that he thinks I’m as cool as the band that brings us together. I want him to know that even though I may not have taken the path he wanted for me, I’m still rocking, just to the beat of my own drum. I want him to be as happy for me as I am that we have come as far as we have and that we still have the B-52’s in common.

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Art

Brud by Sandra Dutton Faculty, Liberal Arts, New York

“Brud” was a local personality in Boothbay Harbor, Maine whom my husband and I befriended. He played spoons at all the local events and ran his own hotdog stand. This painting, which I donated to the town, now hangs in the Boothbay Harbor firehouse.

Size of original Art: 24"x 36", Medium: Acrylic on canvas

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Poem

She by Tanya R. Whitney Alumnus, Veteran, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Arts, 1988 Louisiana

A barrage of bullets and cannon ballsOne stands tall and continues to loadTaking her place among the battle wearyKeeping faith that theirs shall be glory

A misnamed headstone in a row of gravesOn either side, a uniform is worn to hideAs valiant and true to the cause, she fightsAlongside her brothers anonymous and secretly

A Great War now lingers, she answers the callIn whatever manner she might be neededThe trenches of France, gas warfare, and plagueDiligent in her duty even when death calls

The second Great War, too soon followsShe is needed in great numbers and far longerEvery branch of service, every job she can fillPrisoners of war and death she again must face

Korea, Vietnam, Grenada, PanamaOther places and other times she is thereQuietly doing her duty, with dignity and prideWaiting for the day she will be equal

Silver Stars, distinguished medals of valorShe can no longer be deniedNow she is needed in this new warTo patrol alongside her brothers outside the wire

From the American Revolution to the Middle EastShe has served and continues to serveUnafraid to do her duty, patriotic to the coreShe is…a Soldier, a Sailor, a Marine, an Airman

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Photo

Ice by Alan Moorse Staff, New York

Years ago I read about an injured photographer who was unable to leave home for nearly a year. As mobility returned, the photographer did amazingly creative studies of the backyard claiming it re-awakened the love of finding the right natural image and a new perspective on familiar scenes. With my first digital SLR, I began shooting in May 2013 around my house and yard. This is one of those images-an abstract image of ice and stones in a little watercourse that runs through our backyard in Wynantskill, NY

Camera: Canon EOS Rebel T3i, Focal Length: 179mm, F Stop: F/7.1, Lens: Canon EF-S55 - 250 mm, ISO: 800 Exposure: 1/1600 second

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Poem

The Eros by Marck L. Beggs Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Arkansas

How a 350-ton shipin the Merchant Marinesearned the name of this godremains a mystery to me.

A crew of six—five seamenand me, “college boy”— deliveredequipment and food to rigsall over the Gulf of Mexico.

Captain Lou weighed nearly 300 pounds,drank two fifths of Wild Turkeyper day, and sweated likea frat boy in a maternity ward.

He once ran into a barge,staring into the radar insteadof out the window. He once got lost,directionally, in the Mississippi river.

But he also once saved my life.Tied up against another ship, I thoughtI could make the jump between, butwent down like a shot seagull.

Drunk as he was, Captain Loutossed down a rope and pulledme up seconds before the shipsclanked together, heavy as iron whales.

That night, I sat outon the dock playing harmonicato a wild dolphin familyof exceptional musical taste.

They clucked and neighed at meunder a moon lording over the sea,king of a million jelly fishrising like alien globs.

Had I died that day,I like to think the dolphinswould have garbed me in seaweedfor the slow float down.

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Art

Summer Afternoon by Thomas Ask Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

Sail boat on a beautiful summer afternoon.

Size of original Art: 16" x 20" inches, Medium: Acrylic on canvas

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Non-Fiction

Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Photography by Michele Dutcher Staff, New York What is Google GLASS?

In addition to providing a voice-controlled ability to search online, make phone calls, send messages, receive directions and use numerous mobile apps, GLASS takes hands-free photos and video. And, though this wearable technology in its BETA stage does not offer zoom, filtering, scenario settings or instant editing as part of its hardware, it allows the wearer to instantly take a photo from a first person vantage point without the use of their hands. In other words, the person becomes the tripod.

As you can imagine, this opens a world of opportunity for what can be photographed and when, not just how. Once a picture has been taken, it can either be shared in-stantly with family and friends or sent to a Google+ account where photos and videos are stored. There it can be edited, deleted or shared as the GLASS wearer sees fit.

Google GLASS enjoyed an extensive BETA phase wherein explorers were hand-picked to “test” and provide feedback on this fairly new wearable technology. Cur-rently, this GLASS technology is moving toward industry-specific uses (health care, training/education, etc) with potential public use in a yet to be determined future. The BETA version of GLASS will not be sold in its original form but instead feed-back from its explorers will be used to develop new models and features for its most relevant uses.

In this issue, you’ll find photos on page 21 and a video on page 29 taken with Google GLASS during the early BETA phase.

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Photo

Haleakala Sunrise by Charles Reichardt Staff, New York

Haleakala Crater dominates the eastern half of the Island of Maui, and is usually shrouded in clouds due to its elevation. This photo was taken facing northeast, the direction from where the trade winds blow. Clouds accumulate on the northeast slopes of the mountain caused by humid tropical air that is forced to rise over the mountain, and then dump copious amounts of rain on the north-eastern slopes. Sunrise is the favorite viewing time on the mountain rather than sunset, since the view is not obstructed by the observatories to the west. The western slopes of the mountain are semi-arid. Also visible from the summit are the islands of Hawaii (big island), Molokai, Lanai, and on a clear day, Oahu. Haleakala is now an extinct volcano.

Camera: Canon EOS 70D, Focal Length: 91mm, F Stop: F/5.6, ISO: 4000, Shutter Speed: 1/40

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Non-Fiction

Reiterating Basic Leadership by Martin Vasquez Alumnus, Veteran, Bachelor of Science in Liberal Arts, 2013, New York

Staff Sergeant, E�6, Vasquez served in the United States Army incurring injuries in Afghanistan. He was awarded the Purple Heart among other medals. He is currently studying for the PhD in Business Leadership.

Leadership is a word that is taken for granted too often and for many people it’s broad in definition. The effectiveness of leadership begins with an individual’s character and a person’s ability to accept challenges that will build those traits that lead to great leader-ship. Perseverance and Resiliency is what drives a person to perfect those traits that allow others to follow when the traits are perfected. The real issue occurs when people are re-stricted of growth and ideas suppressed by organizational models that are not intended to expand on a person’s ability to lead.

This creates a negative factor that leads to toxicity within an organization. The control objectives of an organization can also be a failing point to achieve the maximum potential of an employee’s progression. There is nothing better than investing in those employees that endure numerous changes in management and the multicultural aspects of business.

To understand leadership you must be able to lead and not from a systematic standpoint, this will require you to empower subordinates and allow them to make mistakes that will lead to communicative guidance to achieve greater output. Secondly, it is important for leaders to think outside the box and create innovative methods to move away from organi-zational rhetoric and apply contemporary precedence to critical thinking. Finally, it is im-portant to communicate. Great leaders communicate their vision and goals, apply logical reasoning to real life situations, uses decisive actions in application to a general consensus, not just personal, display self-confidence, and shows enthusiasm in their leadership.

These qualities can change an atmosphere from stagnant to productive and removes the possibilities of a toxic environment. It is important to understand that not all leadership models within an organization are fail proof, many have flaws which require change. How-ever, individually we can make a bigger impact that can lead to changes in those models and create a more self-sufficient employee that is willing to take charge, instead of being told what to do.

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Art

Winter Calm by Erin Morris Faculty, School of Liberal Arts, Arizona

Snow covering a fallen tree.

Size of original Art: 22"x 30", Medium: Watercolor on Cold Press Paper

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Poem

Autism in a Boy Too Tall by Thomas Ask Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

Touch the lens, brush it free,Unfog the mist with kisses breeze,Encrusted jewel please shine free,Greet my eyes with a child’s pleas. Make more than cooling shadow.Have summer days and lazy play,Climb trees, make well-placed throws.Chase adventures far away. Now I watch as a boy too tallTo bury face in sobbing breastsLooks at walls I can’t seeReaching to mysterious quests.

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Photo

Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Photography by Michele Dutcher Staff, New York

These photos were taken with Google GLASS.

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Photo

Iceland House by Kayla May Student, Bachelors in Nursing, New York

This photo was taken from my cell phone in the world’s most beautiful kept secret... Iceland.

Camera: Cell Phone, Dimensions: 960 x 960, Horizontal Resolution: 96 dpi, Vertical Resolution: 96 dpi, Bit Depth: 24

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Non-Fiction

What Do Writers See When They Look Inward? by Robert Galin Alumnus, Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies, 1984, Colorado

In June 2014, I was a judge in the Norman Mailer High School and College Writing Awards, sponsored by the Norman Mailer Center and Writers Colony, and the Na-tional Council of Teachers of English. Many of the entries were intriguing; some stu-dents even had written publishable works. Most likely, their teachers had discussed Mailer to some extent, but it was clear that many of the students didn’t have a clear understanding of who Mailer was or, more importantly, the impact he had on 20th century literature, as well as journalism, film, and television. But it was Mailer’s inward look at his writing and his life that seems most intriguing. His pseudo-memoir, Advertisements for Myself, does what any good author’s writing memoir should explain their art and craft of writing, and reveals the writer’s personality.

Mailer, who died in 2007, is mostly known for his books The Naked and the Dead, The Executioner’s Song, The Prisoner of Sex, and a couple of others. He also had a profound effect on magazines such as The New Yorker and Esquire.

The Executioner’s Song, while ostensibly fiction, is an extension of what was then called literary journalism (now consumed by the category creative non-fiction), simi-larly practiced by Tom Wolfe, Joan Didion, Ken Kesey, Hunter S. Thompson, and even earlier authors like Jack London and Stephen Crane. Notice, too, that many of these authors started out as journalists or had strong connections to journalism in some form.

It has become fairly common for famous people, including writers, to publish au-tobiographies, or more accurately, memoirs. The most creative among them inte-grate their life details into a treatise or guide that appears to focus on writing rather than the more typical list of events, places, and lovers. Examples include Ray Brad-bury’s Zen in the Art of Writing, Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer, Gay Ta-lese’s A Writer’s Life, Stephen King’s On Writing, Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, and, of course, Norman Mailer’s Advertisements for Myself. Mailer published Advertise-ments in 1959, ten years after his first novel, The Naked and the Dead, and shortly after his third novel, The Deer Park. The work is an autobiography of Mailer’s nature as a writer; essentially, his public self.

Unlike many of the other writing memoirs, Advertisements is a compendium of various published works, and Mailer introduces each selection with an “advertise-

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ment” that explains its background, as well as his mental and physical states at the time of writing; seen, of course, with the clarity—or the reinterpretation—of time. The title might suggest that Mailer had a healthy ego, despite protestations otherwise throughout the book. His introductions represent a duality in his representations of himself; he denigrates many works published in the collection for the lack of quality, yet he praises them as insights into his character.

Even with the personal focus, the book also has some relevant insights into what a writer is and believes. In the preface, Mailer writes, “it was the first book I wrote that had a style I thought I might be able to call my own. It was forged out of a continuing recognition of how difficult it was to put words together when writing about oneself.”

Focusing on the art and practice of writing, he then intones that, “I began to learn how difficult it might be for a prose writer to move from the hegemony of the word to the resonance of the prose rhythm.” Never an understated person, or writer, Mailer then adds, “That can be a jump greater than a leap into poetry; maybe it is analogous to changing one’s religion.” As if the previous quotation is not clear about writers’ personalities, Mailer notes the vanity of writers, himself included: “The sour truth is that I am imprisoned with a perception which will settle for nothing less than making a revolution in the consciousness of our time.” And he adds later that, “Every Amer-ican writer who takes himself to be both major and macho must sooner or later give a faena” (the final passes by a matador to kill a bull) which borrows from the self-love of a Hemingway style. Hemingway, of course, was the epitome of the macho writer (and former journalist, not so coincidentally).

Despite claiming mild influence by Hemingway, Mailer also disparages the other’s work. Whether or not one agrees with Mailer’s analysis of Hemingway’s writing, his general points about style seem informative. One example:

“So he writes in the style of others looking for his own, and tends to love words more than rhythms. In his haste to dominate the world (rare is the young writer who is not a consummate prick) he tends to use words for their precision, their ability to define, their acrobatic action. His style often changes from scene to scene, from paragraph to paragraph. He knows little about creating mood and the essence of good style is that it sets a mood thick—as a theatrical piece, and then alters that mood, enlarges it, conducts it over to another mood.”

Mailer also rails against the literary world--to which he was certainly a part--which he describes as necrophilic because “they murder their writers, and then decorate their graves.” He says that while writers have been prevented from exhibiting their true po-tential because of weaknesses in the literary world, bad luck, and writers’ own personal

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barriers, that “for those of us who believe the most, have spent our years writing of fear, impotence, stupidity, ugliness, self-love, and apathy, and yet it has been our act of faith, our attempt to see—to see and to see hard, to smell, even to touch, yes to capture that nerve of Being on the honest life of our work, the honor of ourselves which permits us to say no better than we have seen.”

More recent writers, such as King and Lamott, probably fit into Mailer’s description. Both of these current authors speak of their problems with substance abuse and use it as a tool for their writing, often couched in humorous tones. In this sense, Mailer, Lamott, and King are different from Bradbury, who is concise, upbeat, and respectful of the reader, and Brande, who is downright bubbly about being a writer.

Mailer, in order to explain his role as one whose grave is tread upon (though not yet being dead), notes how mean critics can be. For his second work, A Barbary Shore, reviews were less than positive. Sterling North in Time magazine unkindly said, “I assume the success of The Naked and the Dead emboldened Norman Mailer to the point where he believed he could write and publish anything he wanted to in America and get away with it...When one has finished reading (by way of duty) this evil-smelling novel and dropped it gingerly into the garbage can, one has an overwhelming urge to take a hot bath with very strong soap.” After discussion of Barbary Shore reviews, Mailer admits that, “There are few insecurities like aesthetic insecurity...” Of course, he was writing this after gaining professional and economic security, if not artistic security.

Like many writers, during his early career, Mailer concentrated on short stories. “I used to start a story in the morning and if I didn’t finish it in the same day, I would give up, I would decide it wasn’t meant to be written.” At this early stage, Mailer was not writing to sell, but to salve that part of himself that yearned to write: “...I had been looking for therapy rather than art, I was working up my nerve to write...”

It is common for neophyte writers to copy the styles of the authors they already admire. Several novels affected Mailer so strongly that, later, while reading American novels, Mailer says, “My adolescent crush on the profession of the writer had been more than I could have guessed.” It is interesting to note that one of Stephen King’s ways of learning to write was to retype Hemingway so that he could learn the flow of sentences and use of language.

Since Mailer wrote Advertisements at a high point in his career, he was able to get “closure” of a sort. While writing The Deer Park, he says that, “…it would be close to say the book had come alive, and was invading my brain.” In this work he finally was able “to create an adventurer whom I could believe in, and as he came alive for me, the other parts of the book which had been stagnant for a year and more also came to life….”

review.excelsior.edu26 • Excelsior ReView April 2015

It is the task of authors to bare their souls through their writing. It appears to be the task of successful writers to do so by writing about writing, or at least about their writing, perhaps as explanations, not just their readers, but also to themselves--of why they are successful. After all, the image of the insecure artist is the one that stays with us, whether it’s Van Gogh, or Lamott--or Mailer.

review.excelsior.edu Excelsior ReView • 27April 2015

Art

Plein Air by Sandra Dutton Faculty, Liberal Arts, New York

I painted this in Wiscasset, Maine. Many artists paint on location, and that’s what I found more in-teresting than the scenery: the act of painting.

Size of original Art: 22"x 30", Medium: Acrylic on canvas

review.excelsior.edu28 • Excelsior ReView April 2015

Poem

Jockeying a Horse Named Loser by Brett Stout Student, South Carolina

Brett is a high school dropout and former construction worker turned college graduate and paramedic.

I now wear the remnants of past foreign warson the bottom of my shoe,

flashing starsfat manlittle boysleek and roundthe tiger’s eyegnawing teethcamouflaged,

now you can’t see mewhite laces rideon wings of rusted metalkamikaze soles,

I now wear the remnants of past foreign warson the bottom of my shoe,

mustard colored death maskpeering skullseleven kills stampedunderneath left hand sidenear the checkered flagsfor a race never ran,

ninety-degree diveshead first

into the Yellow Sea’s of Japanrusted metal on vacation200 feet below,

I now wear the remnants of past foreign warson the bottom of my shoe.

review.excelsior.edu Excelsior ReView • 29April 2015

Video

Google GLASS: Hands-Free First Person Video by Michele Dutcher Staff, New York

This video was taken with Google GLASS during a San Francisco trip.

Click Here to Play

review.excelsior.edu30 • Excelsior ReView April 2015

Poem

Death by Video by Thomas Ask Alumnus, Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, 2002, Pennsylvania

Drunken eyes seducing mindsFlashing fluorescence digging Synapses fire on and offon and offon and off Eyes blink only for waterGently cooling heated sightWashing across digital roughAs the synapses fire on and off Chant a dirge or scumble colorWhile watching forced slumber Noises zipping, busy, fuzzy dotsBlinking, blanching, watching plots Jam the mind in a keyboard crackWaiting on your electro-sausage. Synapses. fire. on. and. off.on. and. off.on. and. off.

Excelsior ReView showcases the artistic talents of the Excelsior’s creative community. We are always accepting submissions. Cutting edge pieces that experiment with form, narrative, and non-conventional subject matter as well as traditional literary and art subjects will be considered for online publication.

Please review guidelines, requirements, and formats at review.excelsior.edu before sending material to review@excelsior.edu

Read our current and past issues at review.excelsior.edu

Excelsior ReViewIssue No. 5 │ April 2015