“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Through an arrangement with my mother, Stella Butts, Miss Bowman loaned me the money to attend commercial art school in New York City from 1939 to 1941. [...]

10. I gave up my commitment to commercial art in 1953, when I was 34 years old. [...] This was the last commercial work I was to do for some time; I finally understood that I was simply more interested in painting pictures than in doing anything else. [...]

[...] You insisted upon using your abilities, and tried for years to fit them into the commercial pattern, where they were accepted financially and socially, and in terms of your self-image. [...]

[...] Commercials on television bring a new barrage, so that (amused) you can go from the hay fever season to the flu season without missing any personal medications.

[...] A psychic depression often results, one that is deepened by the Christmas music and the commercial displays, by the religious reminders that the species is made in God’s image, and by the other reminders that the body so given is seemingly incapable of caring for itself and is a natural prey to disease and disaster.

[...] You would not take your art to the marketplace after you left commercial work, because then, in a manner of speaking now, understand, you considered that the act of a prostitute, for your “feminine feelings” that you felt produced the painting would then be sold for the sake of “the male’s role as provider and bringer of power.”

[...] You would not take your art to the marketplace after you left commercial work, because then, in a manner of speaking, now, understand, you considered that the act of a prostitute — for your “feminine feelings” that you felt produced the paintings would then be sold for the sake of “the male’s role as provider and bringer of power.”

[...] A part of you, however, does strongly resent the material benefits that you did derive from your early commercial work. [...]

[...] Not so, I said — after all, I worked at commercial art four years full time at one stretch, and part time a number of other times. [...]

[...] Pu²³⁸, a high-quality isotope consumed in commercial nuclear reactors, has a half-life of about 88 years. [...]

[...] You early went into commercial work, where your love of painting could be sheltered beneath the Average Joe’s love of money. [...]

[...] Your desire to paint, per se, did not emerge full blown when you were a young man, and one probable self is happily engaged in commercial artwork. [...]

You felt that commercial art would work financially, because it belonged to the times, yet even then the comic book market, you felt, was falling beneath you as the public’s ideas changed, and (Mickey) Spillane’s comic strip fell beneath censure. [...]

[...] Instead of fresh (so-called)commercial tomatoes, however, use canned ones for him. [...]

[...] The gallery is commercial. [...]

[...] A connection with a commercial venture. [...]

When you worked in an art department, even though you knew you were doing “commercial work,” society referred to you as an artist. [...]

[...] The fact is that you decided to use your minds in certain ways that you felt were not approved of in your society—and that pattern goes way back for both of you; when you, for example, decided to bow out of a career in commercial art.

[...] As we discussed the dream I began to make connections on my own about my early days in NY City with Ralph Ramstad, as well as about commercial art, my parents, doing illustration, and so forth. [...]

To some extent you even gave commercials, for wherever you went you spoke of the superior powers of a people to the north. [...]

[...] To some extent you felt you had to prove your worth as a conventional male, in—if you will forgive me—the narrowest of parochial terms, though you were possessed of abilities that were considered conventionally male only if they could be suitably laundered: art turned into commercial work, and other creative abilities, such as your writing, that at one time could have turned into several fields—the writing of Westerns, even. [...]

[...] Indeed, I often saw the former with a clearer vision, but my early training and work as a commercial artist, beginning in New York City in 1939, conditioned me to believe that the artist was supposed to deal only with what he could “see” objectively.