color selections for the rest of the site will be based on this…

graphic translation of the stained glass window in Old Main

The Mountain and the tower

New Paltz Historical sign

Graphic Translation of one the projectile points from Professor Diamond’s  collection

sorry they are kind of small….it would let me post them any larger, you can see the larger image if you click on them! These are the headers for the top of each of the different sections of objects for the omeka sit thus far. Let me know what you think!

This crinkled paper lantern is a surviving symbol of one of New Paltz’s richest traditions; Lantern Nite. In 1934 this lantern was carried across a night coated New Paltz along with hundreds of others as part of the annual end of the year ritual. Lantern Nite was disappeared since then, but this lantern can still tell the stories of the magical night.

In its current flattened state, this lantern might not look like much. But in its prime its now faded paper and rusted wire frame would expand to become to beautiful traditional Maru paper lantern. The spherical skeleton is held between a thin circular wooden base and a wooden ring at the top, both painted black. There is a now mutilated wire handle attached to the top wooden ring and some splintering where the handle pierces the wood. A delicate teal paper covers the lanterns bones, erupting with a vibrant red floral pattern along its sides. But like they say, its the inside, not the out that counts. This philosophy rings true for the lantern. On the interior side of the base there is a metal holster for a candle, the light source that brings the lantern to life. There is still remnants of candle wax hardened to the wood, letting us know that this lantern served its purpose. Written neatly in pencil near the candle holder is “Lantern Nite 1934.” And beneath that in rougher scrawled text is the name E. Kniffen. The writing looks as if our lanterns owner signed the bottom when the lantern had already been opened. You can see them extending their hand down into the lantern, struggling to leave their mark, you can feel the presence.

Her name was Elaine Kniffen, and this lantern belonged to her. My question of who is the “E.Kniffen” that scrawled their name on the lanterns base had been answered. I found her because of an invitation made to look like a paint palette that was in the archive box along with the lantern. The invitation had the name Elaine Kniffen on the front. It is an invitation to join the Arts and Crafts club at the New Paltz Normal School, dated February 11, 1935. Elaine carried the lantern on Lantern Nite in 1934. She was a lantern bearer, a prestigious honor, and hers in the lantern that was kept. Hers was the lantern that was saved all these years in the archives of The New Paltz Library, hers is the name I will remember. Elaine left her mark here at New Paltz, I discovered that the schools still awards a merit scholarship in her name to students the show strong academic performance and contribute to the college community. I want to know the women that carried this lantern and changed her school for the better. I want her to know that she is remembered.

“Lantern Services, one of the mot impressive of all New Paltz customs.” This is a quote from the June 3rd 1937 issue of The Nepano; the school news paper of The New Paltz Normal School. I read through years of articles that begin the same way, praising the rich tradition that is Lantern Nite. As a student here at New Paltz today it surprised me that none of my classmates nor myself had ever even heard of Lantern Nite. I had to know more about this lost tradition, I had to bring it back to life.

Lantern Nite was dreamt up in 1929 by Susan Sposato, Winifred Barry, and Muriel Gregory, who were the presidents of the freshmen, junior and senior classes. Lantern Nite was a ceremony held at the end of each year that honored of all three classes (New Paltz didn’t have a four year program until 1938) promotion to the next grade and their academic progress over the past year. Lantern Nite was a campus wide event, honoring everyone from the seniors becoming alumni to the high schoolers entering their freshman year.

Lantern Nite services would begin with each class entering campus while singing their marching song. Then the Lantern Bearers would form the initials of their class and the students would sing their classes song. In 1930 the ceremony was improved with the addition of the students singing the Alma Mater and the Senior Serenade, and in 1931 faculty began participating in Lantern Nite. The Seniors would march in their caps and gowns, and the remaining students would wear the colors of their respective classes. In later years all participants would wear white as they carried their lanterns across the dark campus, illuminating they night with the celebratory voices and glowing lanterns.

All students were allowed to participate in Lantern Nite, but leading your class as a Lantern Bearer was an honor that had to be earned. Lantern Bearers were chosen by faculty members and class officers and then subject to approval by Dr. van den Berg. Each class is led by a specific number of students that represent the current ratio of men to women at the college. In 1937 twenty-five girls and eight boys from each class received the honor of being named a lantern bearer, but only the girls actually carried a lantern at the ceremony. Joining the selected lantern bearers were the officers of each class who were automatically included. Lantern Nite was a refined, highly practiced event that was part of an elaborate series of commencement week rituals. Each class would have rehearsals leading up to the event, and Lantern Bearers had to attend addition practice sessions.

The tradition of Lantern Nite was a “colorful exercise [that left] a lasting impression on all those who observe(d) it” (The Nepano). For decades Lantern Nite was a beautiful part of life here at New Paltz. Each year in mid June as the sun set over campus, students were preparing for Lantern Nite. I can imagine the scene in all of its grander. The classes excitedly huddled together wearing their designated attire. Whispering and practicing the Alma Mater, recounting their year here at school and getting ready to honor all that they had accomplished. They would hold their lanterns tightly in their hands, waiting to light the candle within and begin their procession around campus. Commemorating the lives that they have led in their time here.

Imagining a scene like this takes my breath away. So then why did the rich tradition of Lantern Nite get extinguished like a used candle? Along with Elaine’s lantern there was another lantern from 1987. I searched through issues of The Oracle, which became the school news paper in 1938, and I couldn’t find a single thing about Lantern Nite after that date. It seems that 1987 was the year that Lantern Night was laid to rest. I can’t understand how such a beautiful tradition that was so ingrained in the history of New Paltz was allowed to vanish. I for one want my chance to be a Lantern Bearer, and my research about Lantern Night has inspired me to revive the tradition. New Paltz students should know of this amazing ritual, and Elaine’s lantern should shine again.

Sources: The Nepano, established May 1933, published weekly by the students of the New Paltz Normal School

I was immediately shocked at how brief of the Wikipedia page is devoted to our fair New Paltz! And more disheartening still is that a good quarter of the page lists our various modes of transportation! New Paltz is home to one the oldest street in America, surely we have a little more history then that to tell.

There is a good amount of information given about the founding of New Paltz and historic Huguenot, but the story seems to fast forward quite suddenly after that. It jumps to modern demographics, politics, media appearances, etc. Although these are useful facts, I feel that the spirit and culture of New Paltz is terribly cut short. There is a short section on some of the cultural events that we host here in town, but there seems to be so much missing! How can this page not include everything that happened her in the 60’s for example, I mean we were almost the eternal home of Woodstock for heavens sake (although I’m sure it wouldn’t have been called Woodstock if it had taken place here). But that just goes to show and impact a seemingly small town like New Paltz can have on history. There needs to be more mention of the rich culture we have here. Some of New Paltz’s historical goings on may not have been the most upstanding or PC events but that is what makes New Paltz  unique. And it informs who we are a students here,

I did learn a few new things from the wikipedia page. Did you know New Paltz has a sister city,cause I didn’t; Its Niimi, Okayama, Japan. I also thought the section about New Paltz’s first Newspaper was interesting. But other then that, a lot of this was old news. 

As far as the Wikipedia page about the college, this was a little more juicy with history! I loves reading about all of the demonstrations and protests that took place on campus. There seems to have been some sort of political, student run action happening on this campus during every decade! New Paltz clearly was and still is full to the brim with free and independent thinkers who are not afraid to speak their minds. I also liked reading about all of the prominent people that have taught here or attended the school (minus Vinny from Jersey Shore of course). The page gets a little dull after that however, providing statistics and information on a few key buildings on campus. The Tripping fields don’t even get a mention!

P.S. I am ashamed of this…but I have never read our Alma Mater before this moment

It’s a lamp. Believe it or not, its a lamp. It has sat beside the floral printed arm chair in my Gramma’s living room for as long as I can possibly remember. I called her to brain storm objects to write about for this assignment, she suggested the lamp and told me about it. And although I have seen, touched, turned on, and pondered about this lamp the entirety of my short life my reaction was “Oh thats what that thing is?!?”

This lamp has had a long and eventful life. So long in fact, that it wasn’t even born a lamp! It was originally a saddle makers bench. The two clamp like protrusions at the top were used to hold the leather for the saddle as it was hand stitched. Often times the saddle maker or even a farrier would build the bench themselves. This one in particular doesn’t have a known origin or creator. But after it served its time as a saddle makers bench, it fell into the world of antiques. The bench was purchased by a Marianne Secore, referred to by her maiden name Miss. Mitchell. Miss. Mitchell worked at my Grandpa’s food distribution company, Nichols Distributing, as a secretary accountant. The bench was in her care for some time, and during that time her husband converted the bench to a lamp. The reason for which survives only within his mind I am afraid.

In1963, Miss. Mitchell gave the now electrically illuminated bench to to Gramma and Grampa as a Christmas gift. I would foresee that as being an odd gift to receive from your secretary, but they must have liked it in some strange way because it hasn’t left their house since. Despite the fact that its ancient clamps are now being held together with a rubber band. They must have loved that thing so much that when Miss. Mitchell died, my grandparents adopted several more of her antiques from her estate sale. Perhaps they thought the bench needed company that reminds it of its previous owners, they ones that gave it light.

(above: my uncle Nick at 10 at Nichols Distributing with Miss. Mitchell)

That bench has done something that no human being can. It has transformed from one thing to another. Taken on tasks that in its former life were unimaginable. And its transformation was not out of necessity, the bench did not become a lamp because it was obsolete. Although about 80% of saddles today are made by machine, 20% are still hand sewn. And many craftsmen from that 20% still work on a saddle makers bench just like this one. So why change it, why alter an object from its intended purpose? Maybe Mr. Secore just needed a lamp. Maybe he was trying to find a way to justify keeping the old thing. Or maybe he say that deep down, that bench was destined to be a lamp.

They say a picture says a thousand words…but this one seemed to have very little to say for quite some time. It was silent, sitting in a drawer, waiting for its moment to speak. I found this photo one day while I was rummaging through my Gramma’s boxes of photos looking for inspiration for an art project. I didn’t end up using it and I haven’t thought too much about it since that day. But this photo peaked my interest for this assignment, I had a sudden desire to end its silence.

I began to develop my own theories about this photo, and scoured it for information . My Gramma had written “Penny 1939” lightly in pencil on the back. This was my first clue, the baby in the photo must be her. My Gramma was born in 1939, so this picture must have been taken before she was a year old. The back of the photo also reveals that this is a Kodak print, a “Kodachrome Print” to be specific. The Kodak company was founded in 1889 in Rochester New York, where my Gramma has lived her entire life. And a Kodachrome is a color reversal film that was introduced by the company in 1935, becoming one of the first successful color materials used for both cinematography and still photography. Its amazing to me that this technology was fairly recent at the time the photo was taken. Ironically Kodachrome was prohibited in the United States in 1954, the same year my Gramma got married. This photo holds some of Kodak’s history inside it I think. It represents how much has changed; not only the technology but also the status of the company. When this photo was taken, the Kodak company were innovators, the front runners of the industry, and now they are struggling to keep up the changing times. Perhaps this parallels a fate that befalls many people as we grow older.

However, what truly intrigues me about this photo in not its association with Kodak. This photo is a window into a rarely discussed portion of my families history, and I had no idea about it until very recently. While studying this photo I naturally assumed that the women hoisting my Gramma up into the air must be her mother. Like most I have never met my Great Grandmother so I had no evidence to support my theory. But the joyousness of the scene and the love I saw in the women’s face seemed like an irrefutable claim to motherhood. But I was wrong, and when I learned the truth I watched the picture change before my eyes.

I asked my Gramma about this photo and she told me that the women holding her was not her mother, it was her nanny. It was certainly not uncommon for well off families like my Gramma’s to have nannies, so that did not shock me. Here’s what did…there are no pictures of my Gramma’s mother at all…anywhere. My Gramma’s biological mother has been intentionally erased from our families history. According to my Gramma she had an affair and despite the threat that she would never see her children again, ran off with the other man. Its amazing how an object as simple as a picture can show so much change. Somewhere between my Gramma’s birth and the moment captured in this photo, my families history changed forever. Just like the photo changes for me when I became privy to the truth of its story. What does that mean about my poor little photo? Is the love I say in it initially a falsehood? Does this photo mean betrayal and resentment in the eyes of someone else. I have had this photo for years, and now it means something so different then it once did. The meaning you feel for an object affects the entire way you preserve it. And when that meaning changes so does the object. The photo feels different between my fingers now, it looks different to my eyes that know so much. But my interest in the photo dramatically increased with the presence of this new mystery.

The thought of a mysterious Great Grandmother intrigued me. What kind of women was she and do I have any of her in me? But research is an amazing thing. My Gramma told me that years ago when I was young she found her mother and they began e-mailing. She won’t say much about it, in fact there is only one thing that stands out in my mind. My little brother has bright red hair, and for his entire life we had no idea where he got it from. As it turns out my mysterious biological Great Grandmother had bright red hair.

Jessi Putnam

“Fraying Red Threads”

Once I had a Winnie the Pooh Bear sweatshirt. It belonged to my Gramma. She gave it to me one summer as I was about to leave for my first overnight at camp. It was a navy blue crew neck with a rectangular picture on Pooh on the front. The picture was enormous, and on my small scrawny body it seemed to consume my entire chest. Pooh Bear was that particularly annoying type of photo appliqué that feels kind of rubbery, you know, the kind thats just a bit sticky all the time and you cant leave it in the dryer too long or it will melt. It was the kind of sweatshirt people would make fun of you for wearing at that age. It was the kind of sweatshirt that most kids would stuff in their overnight bag, leave it there, and then lie the next day and say that they wore it. But that night as I lay in my sleeping bag scared and homesick with sleep a distant possibility, that sweatshirt got me through. The cabin smelled terrible and I couldn’t seem to block out the noise or the lights or my fears. So I covered my face with Winnie the Pooh and buried myself deep into its folds. The sweatshirt smelled like lavender and mountain breeze laundry detergent…the sweatshirt smelled like my Gramma.

I kept Winnie for a while after that, but eventually a big hole grew at the elbow, and I grew too big as well. I went without a Gramma scented protection shield for some time. But my senior year of high school, the imminent threat of leaving for college was upon me, and I wanted a new Winnie for my older self. My Gramma took me to huge wooden chest in one of the spare bedrooms at her house. She opened the lid and the smell came wafting out. The lavender and mountain breeze detergent that always reminds me of her but because of allergies I could never wash my own clothes in. I peered into the chest at all the possibilities and she told me to pick one.

And there is was. I picked up the neatly folded bright red sweater and fell in love. It was a perfect fit, which is odd because I am over a foot taller then my Gramma. It was thick and baggy, falling loosely around my arms and torso. And it was soft with years of washing and wear and warm with more then fabric but also with memories. It has big metal buttons printed with snowflakes, and when you take the sweater out of the dryer you run the risk of searing your hand a bit on them. But the buttons are getting a little loose with age. They are holding on to their fraying red threads for dear life. I live in constant fear of the day I put on my sweater and a button has gone missing. But for some reason, despite the how long this sweater has been around, the extra button is still sewn to a seam along the bottom, so my fears are alleviated for the time being. According to the tag that is only hanging on by a few threads, the sweater is from a store called Northern Reflections. There are two loons embroidered on the top of the tag and the print is mostly in french. It reads “Farbique au Canada” with a small Canadian flag along side the text. Another tag lists out my sweaters washing instructions…”machine wash cool do not bleach tumble dry.” And below that is my sweaters contents…”70% cotton 25% acrylic 5% other fibre.

But none of that really matter to me, my sweater is made up of so much more. woven into its cable knits is my Gramma; the memories, love, and of course the smell. Sometimes I will just  hide my face in the sweater, absorbing its smell, its softness on my skin, and the nostalgia that rushes upon me every time I wear it. Like Pooh bear the first time I wore my red sweater did not go over very well with other kids. “Nice Gramma sweater” was the sarcastic remark of admittedly not one of my most favorite people in school. But it didn’t matter, I love that sweater. I love its sagging red fabric and fraying threads, its worn spots where years of elbows have leaned and its dangerously loose buttons. I love the smell of lavender and mountain breeze and I love wrapping it around me and feeling safe and at home. Now I fondly call it my “Gramma Sweater” and I plan on letting it keep me safe for a very long time.

Jessi Putnam: God Jar Pig

It seems to be an obvious fact that a child can’t choose their parents, we are born into the world by two people and there is no changing that. But unlike most, I had the rare opportunity to choose another parent to add to my family. Her name is Maureen, she started out as my neighbor and after school baby sitter and now she introduces me to people as her daughter. She is my mentor, my guru, my friend, and I would be a very different person if she hand’t entered my life.

I started going to her house every day after school in fourth grade, it was here I realized my passion for art, and it was then that Maureen became my teacher. As the only artist in my family, I claim that I became an artist through osmosis after all those afternoons at Maureen’s house. Our mutual affection for art placed my firmly under Maureen’s wing, she became what I called my “art mom”. She began taking me to galleries and cultural centers, teaching me techniques and giving me projects. But amidst all her lessons in art, Maureen was teaching me about something just as important…life.

Over the years she taught me how to read people, how to be confident, how to be strong, how to express myself, and how to have faith in the universe.Yes, the universe…here’s the concept; the universe is always working, guiding you in the right direction. Faith in the universe teaches you to never panic when things feel out of control, because you have to believe that there is a reason for it all, an end purpose that you’re moving towards. And all of the struggles that you encounter in life are conquerable because the universe is always unfolding as it should. When Maureen started teaching me about the universe, I didn’t think any of it applied to me. I didn’t have struggles, I didn’t need strength, and didn’t need faith that it would all work out…until I did.

Sophomore year of high school was the beginning of the hardest few years of my life. Everything in my world seemed to fall apart all at once and I couldn’t seem to carry all of the pieces. I lost my best friend when he went to college and decided he didn’t need me anymore. I lost my family when my parents told me they were getting divorced out of the blue. I lost my home when my parents couldn’t live with the memories anymore. And to deal with all this my outlet was running, but I lost that too when I got injured and underwent two consecutive knee surgeries. It was obvious to me now what I was in need of some serious faith in the universe.

Through all of this Maureen had been by my side; listening to me, taking me out of my house when I needed to get away, being my mom when mine was dealing with her own troubles, and continuing to teach me. It was during this crisis in my life that Maureen introduced me to The God Jar. It was a clay jar she kept in her dinning room with a stack of post-its beside it. She told me that when something in life seemed too much to bare, beyond your control, or impossible to to handle alone, you write it down on a post-it and put it in The God Jar. It was a way of taking the burden from your shoulders and handing it to the universe. Once your trouble is in the jar, the universe will take over, guiding you through the hardships.

I used Maureen’s God jar quite a bit over the years, and one day I found this blue piggy bank sitting on my front porch with a stack of post-its and a note. It said “your very own God Jar, use it wisely and often, Love Maureen”. And I do exactly that. My God Jar Pig, as I call it, sits on my desk here at school and it will follow me wherever this life takes me. Almost daily I write down my fears, goals, dreams, prayers, and anything else on my mind and put it in the pig. People ask me about my pig all the time and I tell them how it works. Some think its strange, some ask to try it, some want one of their own, and some ask me if it works. That I am not entirely sure of, but I know that when I drop a burdened post-it into my pig I feel my load being lightened and I have to believe that the universe is watching out for me even in the smallest of ways. Maureen and her teachings were there for me during some of the hardest times of my life, The God Jar was my bible and she was my church. And to be honest, I think she may have saved me. My God Jar Pig is a very special possession of mine because it is a constant reminder of Maureen and all that she has helped me through. But more importantly, it is a reminder of how she taught me to help myself.