September has been a great month for art shows in and near Cambridge. I’d especially like to call out an amazing exhibit of the work of ceramicist Isaac Scott called ” Mouros” which will be at Lucy Lacoste Gallery, 25 Main Street in Concord, Mass, through October 14.

Scott, now of Philadelphia, is a brilliant young sculptor and photographer whose photos of the 2020 riots in Philadelphia following the death of George Floyd were published by the New Yorker Magazine– earning him the National Magazine Award for Feature Photographer of the Year in 2021. He is also a fabulous sculptor/ceramicist.

Not long ago, Scott told me at the Lacoste opening, he visited a friend in Lisbon, knowing little about that city or Portugal. Taking tours of the city, he learned about its Moorish roots, legends of ghostly ancestors, and of the slave trade that originated in Lisbon the 1400s. Descended from slaves himself, he was fascinated by the stories he heard, and, when he returned to the US, crafted a series of ceramic heads, called “Mouros,” which, in the LaCoste exhibit, he pairs with photos he took of Lisbon and its surroundings.

“The exhibition powerfully brings to light the origination of the slave trade, references the African diaspora; and brings us back full circle to the present day with references to graffiti and hip-hop culture,” said Gallery Owner Lucy Lacoste..

One pairing includes a Mauro bust with a remarkable close-up photo of pigeons–whose ubiquity and flights all over the world seemed to parallel with the travels of Portuguese and other slave ships, Scott said.

“Pombo (Pigeon), 2023

Lacoste added, “In my over 30 years of being a gallerist, I’ve rarely seen an artist whose work is more exciting.  Here the artist pushes the boundaries of contemporary art by creating a dialogue between the two mediums of ceramics and photography to tell the culturally relevant story of the slave trade. “

Isaac Scott received his MFA from Temple University in 2021 under Roberto Lugo. Introduced to Lucy Lacoste in 2022, Scott was included in a well-received group show at the Gallery that year in which he showed his #Philadelphia Series, sculpture inspired by the 2020 Riots in Philadelphia, the city where he lives, after the death of George Floyd.

At Lucy Lacoste Gallery, 25 Main Street, Concord, Mass., through October 14, 2023.

–Anita M. Harris
Anita Harris is a writer and photographer who resides in Cambridge, Mass.
New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, also in Cambridge.

“

I was a Covid Virgin…until three weeks ago.

For more than three years, I’d masked, vaxed, boosted, quarantined. I once walked out of a New Hampshire restaurant where the owner refused to require masks despite a national mandate. (True confession: I also called him an idiot) I fended off Covidiots on Fresh Pond by running with a pool noodle across my shoulders, reminded folks of a $300 fine for non-maskers in Cambridge–and got cursed out for it.

I took Covid precautions very seriously: in the early days, my friend Jim Gewirtzman had died of Covid; a therapist I know got seriously impaired by brain fog and exhaustion– until finally, she had to retire. A 32-year old friend lost his mentor to Covid, then came down with it himself. Three years later, he has episodes of exhaustion and memory loss. Millions more died or can no longer work as a result of this wily virus.

Still, by this summer, President Biden had declared the pandemic over, most folks were no longer masking or bothering to schedule booster shots. An anti-vax acquaintance told me masks did not work and mocked me for wearing one; he said he believed in herd immunity. (Under that theory, used by Sweden early in the pandemic, the weak die of the illness and the rest survive; more recent evidence has shown that with so many quickly-developing virus mutations, that strategy did not–and will not end the pandemic.)

The last Sunday afternoon in August, when I hopped into Trader Joe’s to buy some wine for a picnic with my writers group. I realized I’d left my mask in the car but figured I’d only be inside for a few minutes. Three days later, after the picnic, I started sneezing but thought it was allergies. The next day, congestion built in my chest and sinuses; I decided to test just for the heck of it. Bam. Positive.

It would be 17 days until I tested negative –17 days of confusion, of not knowing how to protect myself and others due to conflicting information, uninformed medical guidance, and a lackadaisical attitude among friends and in the general public. This more than three years into Covid–and, with infections and hospitalizations rising in Cambridge and elswhere, still counting.

First, I called my doctor for Paxlovid.–the medicine said to help prevent serious illness and hospitalization. She said she’d put in a prescription and that I should ask someone pick it up for me but, living solo, I had to go myself.
Next morning, when I got to CVS at 9:30; I was the only one wearing in a mask. The pharmacy windows were shuttered, though they were supposed to open at 9; for some reason, I was told, the pharmacist had gone to the wrong CVS..not very reassuring for those seeking careful treatment. He would be there in ten minutes, a manager assured me.

Coughing into my surgical mask (I now know I should have used a more protective N95 or KN 95) I walked around the store checking for bargains, then went to the pharmacy window, waiting in line for it to open. Concerned that I might be infectious, I told people not to come near me and used my mobile phone in attempts to reach the manager to ask if there were some way they could contact me when my prescription had been filled. But each time I asked to speak the manager, the call was dropped: this happened not once, but four times. Still in line at 10:15, with no pharmacist available, I called another CVS; was told they couldn’t transfer the prescription and in any case I wasn’t to come inside.

Eventually, a CVS manager appeared near the growing pharmacy line. Alternating coughs and conversation, I explained that I was contagious and should go home; she agreed to call when the prescription was ready so I drove the mile-and-a-half back to my house. As soon as I got there, of course, she called, so I drove back, when I got to the pharmacy counter, the tech said the prescription was not ready, it would be 15 or 20 minutes…I protested, slamming my hand on the counter. The pharma tech said he would expedite it; so I hung around…probably spewing germs through my mask…for another 15 minutes. Before I left, I suggested to a clerk that someone might want to sanitize the coupon dispenser and the box of hair dye that I had touched.

Back home, I swallowed the first three Paxlovid pills as instructed and headed for the couch, where I spent most of that day coughing, sneezing and trying to work. My chest congestion deepened, making it painful to cough. As directed by the Centers for Disease Control, I spent the next few days pretty much in isolation.

Except that my cleaning person was scheduled to come on day three. I suggested postponing but she and her helper insisted they would be fine. I opened all of the windows and, when they arrived, offered masks, but the cleaners refused to wear them. “It’s not like in the past,” one said. ” Now, it’s like the flu; it’s curable; when you have the flu, you go to work.” (I wondered about going to work with the flu, and later thought perhaps I should have paid them not to come.

A neighbor also chose to visit–having already had Covid, she brought her own tea and was comfortable with our sitting on the balcony, so long as I was masked.

At some point I managed to find a number to call to report my positive test–but have no idea if that would count, or, as I was one of very few to do so, would make any difference at all.

I felt better on Day 4, and on Day 5 felt well enough to walk outside, wearing a mask. Two cousins from Chicago came by on their way to Cape Cod; we walked (only I was masked) to Fresh Pond and then for supper, outdoors, in Harvard Square. CDC guidelines said that after isolating for five days, it was unlikely that I was still contagious, so it would be fine to go out, masked, just in case. I’m not sure it was smart of me to walk 14K steps, because on Day 6, my congestion deepened, and, disappointingly, I tested positive. A friend on Facebook said he’d had something called “Covid rebound” after Paxlovid; I didn’t know what to do.

Meanwhile, First Lady Jill Biden had tested positive, but was negative after just three days. A friend who drove in to Boston from Provincetown for one night told me he’d picked up the virus—but had a light case, and within a few days was off on a trip to the opera, in New York.

But I kept testing positive and feeling miserable, for the next five days. Dr. Google said you are likely most contagious two days before and after symptoms…CDC said it was OK to go out masked after isolating for 5 days if you’ve had no fever for 24 hours…the only time I had a temperature over 98 was on day two–so I did.

On Day 6, at Henrietta’s Kitchen, no one masked. At an art opening on Day 8, no one masked. Over the next few days, behind my mask, I was coughing and sneezing, my chest was still congested, and I felt awful.

After testing positive on Sunday, Day 9, I wondered if I was having that Covid rebound, which in Covid recurs in some folks who take Paxlovid (evidently, the drug slows the growth of the virus, but doesn’t always wipe it out). I called the doctor to ask what I should do. The nurse on call said she wasn’t familiar with the latest protocols; she suggested that I stay inside, “better safe than sorry”–and that I contact my doctor the next day to request a chest x-ray.

On Day 10, the doc said my symptoms were not due to Covid rebound, which takes longer to present. They were likely caused by allergies, exacerbated by Covid. She told me to take certain over the counter pills and nasal spray, both of which made me woozy.

For five more days, I felt congested, tired, with no energy to write. A friend who called told me, “You sound like you’re under water.” I put on a mask and went to the library (no one masked); and to an art opening (only one other person masked). Finally, on Day 17, I tested negative.

On Day 20–three weeks in, I was feeling better; though still congested and tired. I found a story on NPR that suggested the label “medium” Covid. It’s different from “long Covid,” which is used to describe Covid symptoms that go on for more than a month. In “medium Covid,” the reporter suggested, symptoms last for weeks, and those who have it “are caught in a gray area of recovery with little support.” Yup, I thought.

I walked my 4k steps on the river (where, usually, I run). And, having tested negative, went unmasked to a party on the anti-vax/masker’s porch. There, a former dentist whose mother had died of Covid insisted that masks and Paxlovid do not work. A woman who had contracted Covid the same weekend I did said she’d isolated for the five days and was fine after that.

The next morning, a coffee pal at Henrietta’s who consults to international pharma companies told me he did not know if he’d ever had Covid but insisted that there’s no reason to wear a mask. (He also proclaimed that US policy of shutting down stores and schools was misguided because the disease supposedly only kills old people–and more young people have died of suicide due to isolation than have died of Covid). The bartender said that despite the current uptick in cases, he will not wear a protective mask: “If you wear a mask, people think you are sick and stay away.”

Given the vehemence and mockery with which many anti-maskers expressed their views, I wondered if I were overdoing the masking thing–and emailed to ask a renowned scientist friend who was involved in inventing the vaccines what he thought.

He responded:
I don’t think anyone knows for sure. I think it works some , but not perfectly.  But one should wear k 95 ideally. Or kn 95. But it’s important to fit correctly. I always wear them in crowds or crowded places. 

That settled it for me. I wrote back:

I’m concerned that there’s is so much misinformation and people are being so careless…even reckless!  And ridiculing others for taking precautions.

He wrote:
I’m not sure any conclusive studies have been done. Also terrible and repeatedly inconsistent and contradictory info from the World Health Organization and the Centers for Disease Control. That said, I see no harm and I think there is definitely possible good. 

So–supposedly I’m immune from Covid for three months. After that, I’ll get the latest booster (out this week) and mask in crowded spaces. I’m grateful for the vaccines, the boosters, and the medicines that have helped get this nasty illness under control. Though I was laid low for three weeks, I am very grateful not have been laid even lower–like, in a grave.

I remain concerned that after all this time, no one seems sure about what works and what does not. But given the contradictory guidance, guesswork, and nonchalance about an illness that seems to affect each of us differently, I ask, “Why not mask and vax? What do you have to lose?

–Anita M. Harris

Anita Harris is a writer, photographer and communications consultant in Cambridge, Mass. Earlier in her career, she covered health, science and technology for the “MacNeil-Lehrer Report” (now the “NewsHour” of PBS), served as public affairs director for the Harvard School of Public Health.

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, also in Cambridge, Mass.

On June 12, I had the privilege of introducing the zoom happy hour for classmates who attended the 51st reunion of my graduating class. I touched on some of the incidents I wrote about in my 2015 book, Ithaca Diaries, which is about our four years 1966-1970. Sometimes, I call the book “Gidget Goes to the Revolution” which, in a way, sums up my college experience. But 51 years later, I thought it would be important to reflect on the past as it relates to the present and future–rather a handful for a 10-minute talk–but I think I managed to do it. Here’s a link to the video; the script, which I did not follow exactly, is inserted below.

Hi, I’m so glad to see everyone here, and especially that we’re all still here after this difficult year. I know that some of us are disappointed not to be in Ithaca—but the good part is that friends from far away can be with us.  One such friend said he would join in if I provided free drinks…which I am…in my living room.  CHEERS!

51^st ANNIVERSARY OF GRADUATION 1970
 I’m sure you know that this is the 51^st anniversary week of our crazy graduation. With those three walkouts, and the demonstration on stage where Morris Bishop, the distinguished historian and leader of the processional hit someone over the head with the baton he was carrying… Many people think that it was Dave Burack—my gov instructor—who got hit over the head …Burack swears it was his roommate…In any case, the demonstrators got hauled off stage and into a cop car…The bear at the top of the mace got bent and has never been the same—nor, I think,  have we.

 I remember that really well…which is amazing because people were  passing a JOINT when we were standing in the graduation processional…and I was definitely stoned.

I WROTE ABOUT THAT IN MY BOOK, ITHACA DIARIES which is based on the journals I kept as an undergraduate: it starts with me arriving at Cornell freshman year carrying the pink suitcase my uncle leon gave me for my bat mitzvah—goes through draft card burnings, demonstrations against the war,  the straight takeover,  MY LOVE LIFE, WHAT WAS I THINKING Kent State…and  ends on graduation day….when, to my amazement,  I even led a demonstration.

I WAS ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT ITHACA DIARIES LAST YEAR, AT OUR FIFTIETH but with the pandemic that really didn’t work out. So this year, Sally and Kathy asked me to introduce the social hour– they told me several times to be brief and to keep in mind that this is supposed to be a HAPPY hour. So I’m not going to reminisce a whole lot…I will just move the story ahead a little, wax a bit historical and philosophical, and then we’ll breakout out the drinks.  I mean..join the breakout sessions.

                                                                                    *

SINCE ITHACA DIARIES CAME OUT, I”VE BEEN WORKING ON TWO SEQUELS.

THE FIRST SEQUEL IS ABOUT MY FIRST YEAR OUT OF CORNELL— and I imagine that many of us went through similar experiences.   After all the turmoil on campus, and changes in the late sixties, I had no idea what to do with myself. (And of course, I was an English major…need I say more?) But as a fledgling feminist, I wanted to prove that I could do things: that anything a guy could do, I could do, too.  I got a bunch of short-term jobs.

WEST VIRGINIA First I got a job with the ILR School that took me traveling around the country to several hospitals,; in West Birginia, I had my first look at coal miners with black lung disease.

I WORKED IN A  POLITICAL CAMPAIGN  where one of the pols spent his days pretending to read the newspaper while staring at my legs…

THEN I WENT ON A ROAD TRIP cross country with two Brits I didn’t know, whose names I found on a bulletin board. They were both named John John, John, and I  drove cross country in a big black buick =–u drive it—and picked up every derelict and druggie, all the way from Miami to San Francisco.

AFTER THAT, I WORKED WITH DISADVANTAGED TEENS IN THE PHILADELPHIA GHETTO…AND FINALLY, I WOUND UP IN HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.  

That’s where the first sequel, which I’m CALLING PHILADELPHIA STORIES  ENDS.

HARRISBURG

SO, THEN, THE SEQUEL TO THE SEQUEL:  HARRISBURG
IT TURNED OUT THAT THREE OF OUR CLASSMATES, ED ZUCKERMAN, FRED SOLOWEY, AND VINCENT BLOCKER, WERE ALSO IN HARRISBURG, EACH FOR HIS OWN REASONS. WE AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE ENDED UP STARTING A NEWSPAPER THERE, IN CONNECTION TO A MAJOR POLITICAL TRIAL— IT WAS THE TRIAL OF THE HARRISBURG 8., WHICH HAD AN INTERESTING CORNELL CONNECTION. 

HARRISBURG 8 TRIAL
BERRIGAN: You may remember Dan Berrigan the anti war Priest, and poet who was deputy director of  Cornell United religious work. Anyway, while Dan Berrigan was in prison, Nixon’s FBI Director J EDGAR HOOVER ACCUSED DANIEL’s brother  Philip , who was also in prison, of conspiring to kidnap Henry Kissinger and blow up underground heating tunnels in Washington DC.  Also accused were  former ILR Professor Eqbal Ahmad, and six others—mostly nuns and priests. I’m not kidding, I’m not kidding.

So, Ed, Fred, Vincent and I started a newspaper called the Harrisburg Independent Press—or—HIP- around the trial of the Harrisburg 8. That was how I became a journalist, the paper was amazing.

And, for the last few years I’ve been working on a book on my experiences at HIP.

A FEW WEEKS AGO, I WAS WORKING ON THE CONCLUSION. And I started wondering what the heck am I doing, why am I time traveling, going back into the past all the time?  

ONE REASON IS PERSONAL : AS WITH Ithaca diaries, I needed to understand on a personal level, just what had gone down, to get things straight in my head, this was such a formative period, in order to figure out what to do next.  

BUT ANOTHER REASON IS HISTORICAL/SOCIETAL.

WHEN I FIRST STARTED WORKING ON THE HARRISBURG BOOK, TRUMP WAS JUST COMING INTO OFFICE, AND I FELT THE COUNTRY WAS DIVIDED, much as it was in the late 60s and early 70s.  I thought it might be interesting to draw some parallels between the present day divisiveness along the lines of  race, poverty, ethnicity, and corruption… and what was going on back then, under the Nixon administration, with race relations, the Vietnam War, dirty tricks and such.

SPIRALS: BROKEN PATTERNS:
 Then I thought about my first book, it’s called Broken patterns, and it’s about our generation of professional women in relation to our own mothers and grandmothers. It describes a spiral pattern in history—a spiral pattern that I think holds true for Individuals as well.

WHAT DO I MEANBY SPIRALS?  HERE I’d LIKE TO PONTIFICATE, A BIT, IF YOU WILL INDULGE ME…

Many of us—myself included—tend to think about progress in a linear way. That is, that to progress, we move forward in a straightforward path toward a goal.  But the older I get, the more I see that life sort of emerges in a series of starts and stops—that we get just so far, in moving toward a goal—maybe we reach it; maybe we get blocked… and then, as a society or as individuals, we tend to pull back to reassess, to reintegrate our own pasts, our country’s past, in order to move forward, once again.  

TODAY A TURNING POINT IN A SPIRAL
I think that now as a society we’re at a turning point in a spiral that’s kind of similar to where we were. 50 years ago. Now, as then, society is divided. Many have moved toward equality but others have been left behind.   As you know, there are issues of race, poverty, war, environment, how government should work, what kind of nation we want to be.  BUT despite all of the disruptions, the divisiveness, the protests,  the violence, I feel heartened that many of us are looking back historically, to understand how we got to this place so that we can regroup to find new ways of doing things.  I know that I’m painting with a rather broad brush—but I believe that==or I HOPE that– retreating a bit to reassess, will allow us move forward as individuals, and as a society, once again. END PONTIFICATION

COMING TOGETHER FOR OUR 51^st
 In the same way, coming together for our 50th, or 51^st reunion, gives us the chance to look back, to heal, to understand, to figure out where we’re at in order to find new ways to move forward in our own lives. I’m hoping that in our social… er happy hour, we’ll have a chance to catch up, figure out where we’ve been, where we are now, and  what adventures come  next as we enter this new phase in our lives.  TOAST WITH GLASS

One quick reminder—please use chat to catch up/share info or addresses with anyone you want to stay in touch with after the social.  

I’m totally pleased to report that I’ve received my second covid shot–Pfizer, at Fenway Park–and, despite a very sore arm, I want to offer thanks and kudos to CIC-health for a well-run and pleasant experience.

As I’ve written in the past, I spent 10 years as a client at CIC Cambridge, which offers shared office space to many startups in an environment that is uplifting, educational and supportive. I found the same at Fenway, which, I am embarrassed to admit, I had, before this week, visited only once in all the years I’ve lived in Cambridge.

I was able to park for free in a space with no meter across from Entrance A, on Jersey Street; someone called out on a loudspeaker not to come to the entrance until 15 minutes before the appointment time. So I waited for a few minutes, then showed my email confirmation to a pleasant fellow managing the door.

Inside, I picked up a new mask to replace my own, answered a few questions about my health status, and then got in line.

.While waiting, I took photos–which an assistant said was fine, as long as I didn’t show any faces. I found the covid advice amidst the ads for hotdogs and such amusing; likewise, red sox on the signs.

• 

• 

,

Within ten minutes, I reached the front of the line and was directed to a desk where, it turned out, shifts were changing and a tech was advising another administrator, a doctor, how to work the computer system.

While waiting, I snappped photos of techs filling syringes at a station where spectators ordinarily buy beer.

Then, after asking a few questions and confirming my ID, the doc gave me the shot (it stung a bit) and told me he was glad I had come. I said I was, too, and also that HE had.

Next –into a waiting area.

• 

After hanging out for the required 15 minutes, I got a few more shots (haha) and resolved to come back for better ones on a nicer day.

• 

• 

Heading back to Cambridge, I gave silent thanks to CIC and the team that had made what might have been a nerve wracking experience into a rather pleasant way to spend an hour or less. I’m greatful to be moving into what I hope will soon be a post-covid,”Go Sox ” world. Who knows–maybe I’ll even get to a game!

Anita M. Harris is a writer and communications consultant based on Cambridge, MA.

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, also in Cambridge.

###

Concord’s LaCoste Gallery has hit the ball out of the park yet again–this time with a remarkable and timely show by Massachusetts ceramicist Paul Briggs. The show, “Intuitive Responses: Poetic Justice in Clay,” centers on six sculptures, each inspired by a a specific poem written a noted black poet. The poets are: Maya Angelou, Lucille Clifton, Langston Hughes, Audrey Lorde, Harryette Mullen and Sonia Sanchez.

The works, part of Briggs’ “Cell Personae” series, are built and glazed to resemble prison bars and chains–but, as Briggs explained at an opening on February 13, 2021, they shows that despite oppression, the human spirit prevails.

Briggs writes in his artist’s statement:
The poetry series came about as a way to look for hope and strength during these difficult times and their impact on people of color. It is my work toward finding courage in light of my ongoing work concerning legal violence and incarceration, the disproportionate number of people impacted by the pandemic, and the awakening the siege on the capital brought about as we witnessed the different manner in which people protesting under the banner of Black Lives Matter received versus those flying banners of white supremacy. What became clear was the degree to which black poetry included so much pain and power.”

At first, I found the work intense and powerful, yet off -putting—I mean, who wants to look at what seem to be iron bars and cages in the midst of a covid pandemic? But when Briggs explained more about what the works showed, they became, for me, profound and freeing. One of my favorites, “I’ve Known Rivers,” was inspired by a poem in which Langston Hughes relates history and flowing water to the depth of the soul. Brigg’s sculpture appears to be an iron-bar frame, locked in place by knotted chains–but the knots seem to give way to graceful flowing arcs which escape the bars–forming a waterfall-like structure that cannot be constrained.

Another work, Brigg’s “Caged Bird, “, which includes sculptures of two birds behind bars, references the Maya Angelou poem of the same name. It’s final paragraph reads:

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

A link to the photos of the sculptures and their poetic inspirations follows the main writeup at https://www.lucylacoste.com/exhibitions/paul-s-briggs

According to Lucy Lacoste, the gallery founder and owner,

Briggs has said that ceramics are, for him, a way to philosophize concretely.” In this seemingly contradictory phrase, we already get a sense of his work, in which deep structures of thought and feeling find material equivalents. Briggs’ series Cell Personae exemplifies this approach. It is his personal response to the “other” pandemic raging through America – the mass incarceration of Black people, which is itself an act of grand-scale criminality. The works amount to a firm, resolved protest against this ongoing tragedy. Each is rectilinear, evoking the confining dimensions of a jail cell, and contains within it a nest of serpentine forms. They could be taken as symbolizing the psychic energy of imprisoned individuals – complex thoughts and emotional torment – or perhaps, more optimistically, the inevitability of eventual change. The works are remarkable for re-scripting the basic vocabulary of ceramics (slab construction and coils); Briggs brings to these familiar techniques a wholly new, compressed and clear meaning, of great relevance in this year of reckoning with issues of race in America.

The exhibit, at 25 Main Street, Concord MA, will run Monday-Saturday 12-5 through March 13, 2021.

–Anita M. Harris is a writer, photographer and communications consultant based in Cambridge, MA.
New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, also in Cambridge.