tailieunhanh - Slow Sculpture Theodore Sturgeon

Further, this current publication is dedicated to the work of those who have employed the methodologies espoused by Caviness. It is meant to address all whose critical methods have been denigrated, whose contributions, when theoretically grounded, have been refused for publication, or whose critical insights have been expunged by editors, peer reviewers, and publishers. For obvious reasons this remains a virtual community, whose members remain unaware of each other, but it may be cultivated as a conscious epistemic community whose members seek support from one another. In this vein, it is hoped that this e-publication will rekindle discussions about methodology. | SLOW SCULPTURE Volume XII The Complcic THEODORE STURGEON Slow Sculpture Theodore Sturgeon He didn t know who he was when she met him well not many people did. He was in the high orchard doing something under a pear tree. The land smelled of late summer and wind bronze it smelled bronze. He looked up at a compact girl in her mid-twenties at a fearless face and eyes the same color as her hair which was extraordinary because her hair was red-gold. She looked down at a leatherskinned man in his forties at a gold-leaf electroscope in his hand and felt she was an intruder. She said Oh in what was apparently the right way. Because he nodded once and said Hold this and there could then be no thought of intrusion. She kneeled down beside him and took the instrument holding it exactly where he positioned her hand. He moved away a little and struck a tuning fork against his kneecap. What s it doing He had a good voice the kind of voice strangers notice and listen to. She looked at the delicate leaves of gold in the glass shield of the electroscope. They re moving apart. He struck the tuning fork again and the leaves pressed away from one another. Much About forty-five degrees when you hit the fork. Good that s about the most we ll get. From a pocket of his bush jacket he drew a sack of chalk dust and dropped a small handful on the ground. I ll move now. You stay right there and tell me how much the leaves separate. He traveled around the pear tree in a zigzag course striking his tuning fork while she called out numbers ten degrees thirty five twenty nothing. Whenever the gold foil pressed apart to maximum forty degrees or more he dropped more chalk. When he was finished the tree was surrounded by a rough oval of white dots. He took out a notebook and diagramed them and the tree put away the book and took the electroscope out of her hands. Were you looking for something he asked her. No she said. Yes. He could smile. Though it did not last long she found the .