Topics | Art and Creativity | The Sun Magazine #51

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Art and Creativity

Fiction

Ninety Nine Big ’Uns

Henry Huggins was one of the best liars in the county. He was a short, stocky, red-faced man with squinty eyes and a waxed handle-bar mustache. He wore bib overalls and a dirty broadbrim hat pulled down so far it bent the tops of his ears over. He read nickel Westerns and sat around the general store telling elaborate lies.

By Charles M. Francum February 1977
Photography

Photographs By Stephen March

“Only the love for this splendorous being can give freedom to a warrior’s spirit; and freedom is joy, efficiency, and abandon in the face of any odds. That is the last lesson. It is always left for the very last moment, for the moment of ultimate solitude when a man faces his death and his aloneness. Only then does it make sense.”

By Stephen March February 1977
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Journal

I have noticed that there are those who give spontaneously, unself-consciously. There are also those who have the same ability, but become distracted and brought down by the shadow of their own personalities, and a wavering results. In that instant of wavering, the gift melts. A state of listening grace evolves from instinctive setting aside of self.

By Betsy Campbell Blackwell December 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Spectrum/A Community Access Guide

Dance: Back To The Roots

In 1969, you could study dance in Chapel Hill either at Bounds Studio, or in a physical education class. A glance at the listing of dance classes in this section shows how that’s changed.

By Alma Blount November 1976
Photography

Drawings By L.S. Gilliam

Most Chapel Hill acquaintances have known only my student work (’64-’68) and the past year’s oil paintings of the University campus. I hope these drawings demonstrate a wider range of interests than that indicated by a limited knowledge of my work.

By L.S. Gilliam September 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Deposed King

I live now like a deposed king, which is to say, with a slight air of once-proud nobility I cling to as I cling to the rags and tatters of my existence because it’s all I’ve got left.

By Norm Moser July 1976