“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The negative mention in the data is interesting, and has several connections, both here and in the rest of Seth’s data. Jane and I did not think of negative in connection with the word no, for instance, but in relation to pictures or visual images. On page two of his letter Wendell tells about a friend who works for the Neilson TV survey people—having to do with pictures. But also, negative, meaning pictures, is called to mind because Wendell’s letter deals with a group of artists who worked together in a studio, drawing comic strips, in 1941-3. In addition I personally have a studio here in the apartment, and the envelope used as object was kept in this studio. These references about studios, pictures, and the object crop up again later in the data also.

(“A photograph. Ruburt here thinks of the photographs taken in your studio, of him.” The picture data begins to emerge again. Seth here mentions some test photos I took of Jane in my studio here last week. Studio is the link here with Wendell’s letter, and hence the envelope object. In his letter Wendell specifically mentions the studio we artists shared back in 1941-3.

(“The photograph connection is strong [pause] but I do not believe the item is this precisely.” [Pause.] Seth tried to help Jane discriminate here, as he often does. Tonight’s object of course is not a picture or photo, but an envelope that contained a letter about people who make pictures. Also, I was taking pictures of Jane last week, as explained. Thus it can be seen how all such related data, even though separated by much time, comes together in these session experiments. This particular chain of association was not anticipated by me when I picked the Crowley envelope as object for tonight. The two studio settings—the studio I worked in with Wendell Crowley in 1941-3, and my present studio, are separated by as much as 23 years.

(I was painting in my studio, took a break, and went down to our front mailbox and picked up the mail. [...] From my studio I could look down at Jane and the others, but I did not tell her the mail had arrived. [...] The thought had crossed my mind that by deliberately waving the card at her from my second-floor studio window, I could almost make that part of that dream come true.

(My back was beginning to bother me this morning, at around 11:00, so I sat in my chair, in the studio, and closing my eyes began to use the induction technique that Jane had used on me in our previous sessions. [...]

(It was rather quiet in the studio, though I could hear Jane’s typewriter, but through the closed doors the sound was muffled and rather steady, and the rest of the house was quiet. [...]

[...] Finally, when Jane was talking to me in the studio at about 10:45, I had such a severe attack of cramps in the back I could not stand.

[...] We believe this data is reinforced by the “high ledge shape” data given later, and that it refers to my studio, wherein the page of manuscript used as object was written. Jane uses the studio in the mornings while I am working outside. [...] The studio is actually a glass-enclosed back porch, second story, converted to year-round use.

(“The color purple,” Jane said this is speculation: She wears a certain purple sweater her mother made for her on days when the studio is chilly in the mornings. She wears no other sweater in the studio; it is, also, too large to wear publicly. [...]

[...] As stated, the manuscript page used as object was written by Jane in the studio at the back of the apartment. The studio is a second-floor converted porch with two sides made up of five windows each. [...]

[...] Both of us then watched him begin to very cautiously stalk back through the apartment toward the studio. [...] The studio was dark. Yet Willy spent at least five minutes making a careful survey of the studio; he remained in a very jumpy mood until just before the session began.

[...] I was working in the middle room of our apartment; my studio is thus on my left, the living room on my right. [...] Looking back into the empty studio, he raced into the living room, jumped up on a bookcase beneath a window and hid behind a curtain.

[...] You may go to your opening if you prefer, visit Mark’s studio, or merely take a walk. [...]

[...] Bill is in the process, incidentally, of moving out of his parents’ home and into a studio and apartment in downtown Elmira, where he is going to live and at the same time maintain an art gallery. [...]

(“The habit of squirreling away” is a good reference to my father, in whose photographic studio my brother Loren took the pictures he refers to in the test letter. The studio is in part of my father’s cellar; the rest of the cellar is stuffed and cluttered with odds and ends my father has accumulated over the years. [...]

(“A studio.” Refers to my father’s photographic studio.

[...] A studio. [...]

[...] The setting of the dream was the same—my studio—as the dream of August 20, mentioned on page 69. In the first dream I had found myself outside the studio windows, but not falling. In the second dream I had refused to leave the safety of the studio, which is on the second floor, for fear of falling. [...]

[...] Rob had been working in his studio and gone to bed around 11:00 P.M. He was vaguely aware of class leaving (at 12:30).

[...] The next instant he found himself fully awake and conscious in his studio.

[...] After a moment I realized that I wasn’t supposed to be in the studio, that I had just gone to bed and should be in the living room. [...]

[...] My body is continuing to “let down;” Rob is in his studio...

(Again, the session was held in the studio. [...]

[...] She had been smoking and the air in the studio wasn’t fresh, so we opened the doors leading to the rest of the apartment. [...]

[...] We aired out the studio regardless of the outside temperature. [...]

(I went into my studio to get my car keys, etc. [...]

[...] Some of the passages of that book, I understood as I left my studio, described what I had just experienced. [...]

[...] I felt somewhat better all over this AM....mentally more ambitious or something and moved to back patio studio. [...]

[...] I looked down on her as she sunned herself, my viewpoint being the back row of the studio windows on the second story. [...]

[...] Jane moved almost constantly while posing unwittingly, and I had to work very rapidly while at the same time being careful she didn’t look up at the studio windows on the second floor and see what I was doing.

(“The impression now of looking down, from a high position…” This is an excellent description of my position in the second-story studio, looking quite straight down as I sketched Jane on the lawn. [...]

[...] First, we’d moved back to 458 W. Water — which I seem to do several times a week — and looking out my old studio windows, I saw my father cutting hair like a barber out in the driveway in front of the garage. I invited him to come up and take over the studio for a barbershop. [...]

[...] As you do not know what happens in the television studio before you observe a program, however, so you do not know what happens in the creative framework of reality before you experience physical events. We will call that vast “unconscious” mental and universal studio Framework 2.

The inner mechanisms that happen prior to your experience will take place in the vast mental studio of Framework 2. There, all the details will be arranged, the seemingly chance encounters, for example, the unexplained coincidences that might have to occur before a given physical event takes place.

[...] As we sat talking in Jane’s studio she eventually said that Seth was around. [...]

[...] The next morning, I arose with the thought that all our stewing was after all academic—Jane’s symptoms would prevent us from being on the show to begin with —we couldn’t see her physically negotiating airports, taxis, hotels, studios, New York City, etc.)

(This is the first session held in the back-room studio, where we were free from a lot of regular and potential distractions. [...]

[...] Precisely at the point where he feels pressed enough to practically and symbolically invade your working studio with intimacy in mind, and spontaneous intimacy at that—that is the point that you quickly begin an emotional and physical retreat.

(“He can always work back here in the studio on mornings and all day Fridays. [...]

[...] He also wanted to borrow my studio for an hour to make up a chart for one of his medical displays. He thought he might miss the beginning of the session while working in the studio, but the informality of the idea seemed good. [...]

(As session time arrived John was still busy in my studio. [...]

(Now John had finished his chart in the studio. [...]

Rob spent the next Saturday afternoon in his studio, as usual, painting and doing other artwork. [...]

Still, I thought I’d better tell Rob, so I went back to the studio. [...]

Rob laughed and went into the studio for one.