AUTHOR’s NOTE: I discovered so much about myself, and made so many life-long friends through my explorations as an active member of McBride's 'artistic and theatrical community.' Frankly, the 'thrill of performing' still resonates fifty-plus years later! Gratefully, many of these friendships are still vibrant, including my long-standing relationship with Steve Schwartz '69. And so, I feel compelled to share Steve's work with you. You can view this tribute rendition of The Colonnade as a digital magazine by visiting rganahl Enjoy!
One could argue (as only a Mick can), that McBride’s excellence in the arts was overshadowed by its academic reputation, its athletic spirit, and the aroused passions at its Friday night dances. However, beneath these often-celebrated traditions, an ardent community of ‘major learners’ dedicated to the arts flourished.
Largely hidden, often working late into the night at the print shop in the brothers’ basement, the school’s theatre ‘cage’ or on its ‘theatrical’ stage, this artistic community celebrated art, music, theatre, photography, speech, debate, writing, and journalism with wild enthusiasm and little regard for boundaries.
Thankfully, this ‘anything goes’ spirit of artistic experimentation was largely supported, even encouraged, by our schoolmates, parents, faculty, and the administration…it was always SRO at McBride!
Each class had its standouts, and some of them built impressive livelihoods in their respective artistic fields. For the class of ’69, Steve ‘Schultz’ Schwartz was particularly unique. His artistic creations were irreverent and spontaneous, and singularly captured the free-wheeling spirit of the 60’s!
Re-capture Steve’s cheeky spirit, and engage with this tribute rendition of The Colonnade-1967. A special thanks to McBride’s Michael Gorges ’71 for his McBride Mick artwork, and the McBride Alumni Club for archiving McBride's Yearbooks. Later, Steve shares his creative process. Enjoy!
As Steve and I developed this project, he shared his memories of creating his art:
"Looking at the screenshots, my first instinct is to wince at my lack of skill and basic craftsmanship. Lots of parlor tricks on display. Then I remember I was, what ... fifteen? Sixteen?
I guess if folks remember these with a smile or at least mildly positively then who am I to say thee nay? Especially since they were published ... and I certainly had no lack of nerve or ego pushing these things, or myself, forward back in the day.
It's unlikely that I will remember much about any one drawing. I doubt that I ever put any thought into any of them; more than likely every drawing was an impulsive "that might be funny". Most of them I never even roughed in in pencil ... at some point I discovered india ink and various crow quill nibs, and would just start drawing, to see what I could make the pen do. Didn't even know enough to draw at a larger size for reproduction, or even that there were special papers specifically for ink drawing ... I just drew exact size on regular bond typewriter paper. Which would contract and buckle, because it wasn't made for ink drawing ... but again, who knew? I was thrilled with the idea that my drawings could be printed; and if I didn't do them properly for reproduction, well our faculty advisory never corrected me, so there you have it.
I have often thought and occasionally said that the thing about McBride that I, and probably most if not all of us, had -- and didn't know, realize or appreciate at the time -- was that it was a petri dish of creativity, for just trying stuff and seeing what happened. I have probably spent the rest of my life trying to unconsciously recreate that safe space environment of trying stuff; and if it worked, do it again only more so; if it didn't work, move on. Or do it again anyway, just for the hell of it. I suppose that so much of it was woefully lacking in the basic craftsmanship department probably didn't matter ... we learn craftsmanship. Failure was not an option mostly because we didn't know what failure looked like, so we weren't afraid of it.
But don't ask me why I drew a Roman in what I thought was a toga as a lion tamer. No idea, other than it was a ridiculous juxtaposition, probably even more so in whatever context the illo was. The photographer makes somewhat more sense: probably a pole vault joke; and I knew enough film chemistry from hanging out in the darkroom to know that the available film was slow, so our friends the photographers always wanted their subjects to be still. As long as I was defying the law of gravity I might as well have the flash powder defy it as well. I could have done that drawing just for the dottage of the flash powder, to see what that might turn into. Who knows?"
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