“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“A view of water.” Another reference to the Art Shop, and through this the object. In Elmira the Art Shop is located on West Water Street, which parallels the Chemung River through the heart of the city. The river can be seen from the back door of the Art Shop, and from the second-story workroom above where Tom makes his frames, etc. It was in this large upstairs room that Tom described his car troubles to Jane.

(“A miscellaneous list or group of names or designations. A string of numbers.” These can quite possibly refer to the pencil lists I am in the habit of making up, of materials I need at the Art Shop. I have the habit of making these lists for Jane especially with prices included. I almost always have a list when I go to the Art Shop, and so does Jane. I do not recall whether I had such a list on the day I bought the canvas which furnished tonight’s object, but the chances are that I did have. Very seldom do I make a trip there for just one object.

(“Something picked at random, as from a grab bag, you see.” This could refer to the way I picked the canvas which furnished the object. On that particular visit to the Art Shop I wasn’t looking for linen canvas, never having bought any there; indeed, thinking the shop didn’t stock it to begin with. I had bought other items, and was on my way out when I saw a piece of canvas tucked in a corner, quite wrinkled and obviously a remnant.

([The Gallaghers:] “One of the most interesting shops we stopped in was an Army-Navy type store in Greenwich Village. This shop specialized in unusual military type uniforms… jackets that buttoned up the side of the type that possibly an early western constable might wear. [...]

([The Gallaghers:] “In one antique shop, I [Peg] pointed out two antique crocks which were very much like two we have and like.”)

([The Gallaghers:] “Nothing significant that I remember… could be anything in a bookstore, fruit stand or any number of shops we visited.”)

[...] Marjorie Buck is the proprietor of The Art Shop, where I obtained the bill used as object. [...] Marjorie’s husband died—we do not know when—and Marjorie bought The Art Shop earlier this year. [...]

[...] The house of course obviously is at another location than our apartment, The Art Shop, etc. Later Note by RFB: Also, The Art Shop moves next year to an old house.

(Bear in mind that the connection between the artwork and tonight’s envelope object, the bill from The Art Shop, would be the pencils and paper stumps I bought at The Art Shop in order to do the art.

[...] She was in a cobbler’s shop—that’s where they make shoes.

[...] They had huge cowhides hanging up in a back room of the cobbler’s shop, and there were a lot of dried cowhides hanging up in another room, too. [...]

[...] She died at 17, there in the cobbler’s shop. [...]

[...] Since the object is a notice that the Art Shop is continuing in business, it is an invitation to continue trading there. Also Jane and I have been personally invited by the three new proprietors, whom we know, to continue doing business with the Art Shop. Additional note by Rob: Later, shop is moved to a house.

[...] In the lower right hand corner of page 1 of the object is a monogram consisting of the letters A and S, for Art Shop. [...]

[...] Also the A in the Art Shop monogram narrows somewhat but doesn’t come to a point. [...]

(The 78th envelope object was a shopping list I had written out earlier today for Jane, but which Jane did not see. [...]

[...] The envelope object was a shopping list I made out with the intention of giving it to Jane earlier today, but did not do so. [...]

[...] The object, the shopping list, represented quite a scramble on Jane’s part. [...]

[...] She was in a cobbler’s shop … It was 1748 in England. There were huge cowhides hanging up in the back room of the cobbler’s shop and dried cowhides hanging in another room. [...]

[...] The boy, Albert, was too young to take over the shop, and for a couple of years the village had no cobbler, and the boy was a fisherman. Then another cobbler came and Albert helped out in the shop again … He finally married. [...]

[...] Then I saw the whole thing very clearly, and I said, excited: “She died, at seventeen, there in the cobbler’s shop. [...]

Behind the shop was another room that served as a kitchen and, you might say, parlor. [...] An imbecilic boy sometimes did errands for Throckmorton about the shop. [...] Throckmorton had wanted a son to carry on his shop. [...]

[...] The stairs led downward to the shop.

[...] I am unable at present to tell you what Throckmorton’s shop actually dealt with.

[...] Shopping at Acme Supermarket.

[...] This session, the 361st, took place during our meeting in the coffee shop, called Rudd’s, of the Paramount.

[...] There was a constant stream of people passing our table in the coffee shop, but no one paid us any attention.

(I had to go food shopping this afternoon, and while I was out Kenneth Wrigley called from Dr. Sonsire’s office. [...]

[...] Jane said that while I was shopping today she’d dreamed or felt herself walking around the card table—not perfectly straight, but as though testing her weight upon her legs. [...]

You would not go shopping or do any chores you did not absolutely need to do. [...]

[...] When you feel like shopping or seeing people, then do so just as freely. [...]

[...] This is hard to specify, but he had the same feeling I have now about newspapers — the daily spreading out of ideas, and the kind of tremendous power behind that ability … I can see that corner of his shop/work area clearly in a half-light, illuminated by a candle in an enclosed mesh lantern sitting on a tabletop. [...] I know that Gutenberg is credited with this invention, and probably rightly so; but I also feel this as one of those discoveries that appeared in several places at once, and that my beefy fellow’s shop was in the general vicinity of Gutenberg’s — in Germany? [...]

[...] I then suggested we go shopping and run our other errands earlier in the day than usual, thinking the physical activity would help.

[...] She had to concentrate on each task in order to see it through, be it shopping, walking, etc. [...]

[...] A J and a C. A linen shop on a cobblestone street, with the numbers 2 1 5; or separately 1 2 and then 215 connected. [...]

[...] However, the next session, the 361st, was also quite unusual, and took place in the coffee shop of our hotel, the Paramount, at 235 West 46th Street. [...]

(After retiring at about 1 AM on July 20, 1969, on Sunday morning, after Jane & I had been to the Steak Shop for a few drinks...

[...] On December 21 last, Jane and I went Christmas shopping; we parted to get each other gifts, after making an appointment to meet at a certain restaurant downtown when our shopping was over. “A scramble” can apply to either or both slips, since when we went shopping on December 18 and 21 we found the stores very crowded. [...]

(For this evening’s envelope test I used two sales slips stemming from Christmas shopping Jane and I did. [...]

[...] Then when we went shopping we picked out my sport coat in a similar color, although I believe neither of us thought of any such connection at the time.

[...] A three-piece outfit… I pick up one two five here again and I believe our friend, the cat lover, enters the shop and that the ensemble is in the window… La Rue… I do not know, a street or does she rue entering the shop? [...]

[...] If he honestly does not feel up to it, then he is free to say so, and you shop alone. [...]

[...] You had visited your father in his shop of machines of some sort. [...]

[...] As a matter of fact, at that same time your brother Loren was looking out of your father’s shop, and he saw nothing.