They want to know about their spirituality; what they can doto upflift their spirituality. They welcome the challenges. We'll notify you here with news about. Turn on desktop notifications for breaking stories about interest? Comments 0. These postcards were sold at Lily Dale in the early s and feature scenes like picnics, gatherings, and buildings from the Lily Dale area. It is important to note that most of the postcards in this collection were made from a specific type of printing process known as Albertype.
The Albertype Company is based in Brooklyn, N. The Sunflower Pagoda at the Lily Dale Assembly was run by Evielena Bach, who sold books, took subscriptions to Spiritualist publications, and sold supplies such as stationery, postcards, ice cream, candy, soft drinks, novelties, and cigars.
Her husband, William Bach, built the building in Wittemann, published postcards along with other items such as souvenir books and pamphlets from around the late s to the early s, using a process invented by photographer Joseph Albert.
Albertype was unique because it employed a collotype coating on glass plates. This processing permitted high-speed mass production of photographs for the first time. Prior to this, a copper plate was used instead of glass. Another advantage that Albertype photos have is that although the paper may yellow over time, the inks, unlike normal photographs, do not fade.
The company would have photographs taken by its own agents and would also arrange to utilize photographs taken by others. Thus, Albertype postcards provide a valuable documentation of buildings and locations that may or may not exist anymore. The collection consists of over 50 postcards representing the places and events of Lily Dale in the early s. Most of the postcards are albertypes, a type of photomechanical reproduction.
Maybe that was my problem. After the reading, I stepped back into the summer heat, my complimentary CD in hand, and wandered the grounds in a melancholy fugue.
I felt embarrassed for seeing a medium, and then I felt ashamed of that embarrassment because it seemed elitist. I had no way of knowing whether her views on mediumship would have changed, or even how she would have framed what this belief meant to her. Above all, I felt lonely.
It was lonely to lack the comfort that would come from thinking my mother had crossed over to communicate with me. Things would be better and easier if only I could believe. When I drove away from Lily Dale that day, I reentered not just the realm of the living, but the world of writing. In the week to come at the Chautauqua Institution, my workshop students and I would discuss story structure, character, plot, and creation.
To be experienced as truth. Now, as Body of Stars finally enters the world, I view novel writing as an act of belief. This process demands faith not only in a fictional universe, but in the wildly unlikely possibility that the manuscript will ever amount to anything. To draft the first words of a novel with the hope that it might one day find a readership can seem as fantastical as speaking to spirits.
In fiction, I can make the art of predicting the future a tangible reality, and in the process, I can discover visceral emotional truths. In fiction, I can conjure my dead mother if I wish. What is she saying? In the room I hear nothing, but in my imagination she is right there. I craft her like words on a page. I believe in her as I believed in my own writing during those years I labored over my novel and its landscape of impossibilities—a novel that only now, after much effort and hope and faith, exists as a physical object I can hold in my hands.
As something in which to believe. Created by Grove Atlantic and Electric Literature. Via Dutton Books. By Laura Maylene Walter. Next Article 17 new books to read outside in the sunshine.
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