I wonder, Who scans the news for word of another shooting? Who waits with bated breath for news of the injured, and tallies of the dead? Who steps out onto the lawn, well before town and city stir, to lower the flag.
This collection of photos demonstrates the variety of art and artistic displays in Rutland.
The first few photos were taken along West and Center Streets and showcase the murals and sculptures present there. The photos following those were taken at the local Farmers’ Market which is located in a plaza.
The next slides highlight some of the architecture of Rutland. Included in those photos are shots of the Center Street Alley, the Library, and the Court House.
Finally, the last few photos show the Chaffee Art Center exhibit. Recently, the Chaffee has put together an exhibition of local artists, such as Spaulding Dunbar, whose closeups and portraits are present in this collection of images, and Jen Rondinone, who painted the large upright image of rope against the side of a house.
CHARACTERS: ALEX: A young woman. She is wary of things and often feels the need to escape her troubles by venturing into the woods. She feels that since she cannot solve anything by being outside the woods where she feels comfortable, she might as well enjoy the freeing nature of the forrest, and not worry herself. She would rather live with something imperfect, than risk loosing the good aspects of it. HARPER: Is a young woman. Harper is more excitable and energetic. She is not comfortable in the woods. She feels that the troubles they are facing are easily solvable and believes that they should head back and face them. FELIX and ELLIE are two friends with whom they were hiking who got separated from them.
Jillian sat, lightly tapping her pencil against the wooden desk. The desk had begun to rot she noted, tilting her head slightly so she could get a better look at the dark mold that now crept along its underside. She paused for a moment, sucking in a breath before she swept her finger against the mold. It was fuzzy to the touch she noted, different than the mold she had spied on the leaves that morning. She wondered if there was some advantage to the textures, she couldn’t imagine what advantage there would be, but evolution crafted nature with such fine detail, that she imagined there had to be some advantage to a different texture of mold.
I remember the promise I made to you. Ellie began, only to stop, her pen hovering over the paper. Ink dribbled down it, landing first on the fine tipped point, and then crashing down onto the paper below, in a series of ugly blots. She cursed and put the pen back in the inkwell setting the paper aside.
She flipped over onto her back and stared up at ceiling. Her fan blew a light breeze over her that sent her papers flying. They scattered all over the room, and occasionally out the windows. How to write something, to someone you’ll never send it to. Would it be better or worse if someone was to receive it? Ellie pondered, pushing herself up. No matter, that wasn’t the case here anyways.