Featured Artist Bios:
Theodora “Whispering Ted” Lorraine, daughter of the affluent Bishop family, received an education enjoyed by few women in this young state. Declared eccentric in polite society, Theodora insists on a male moniker and often wears men’s clothing to “even the gap.” However, as a Silent partner of The Luna House in Lewiston and silent manager of her Husband’s general store, Ted controls more of the confluence than many would admit.
Editor’s Note: Theodora Lorraine at the height of her influence in 1926, was believed to not only run two of the prominent businesses in Lewiston, but to have also been a major player in the rum running business rife in the Lewiston at the time.
Lustin Depraved: This gentle giant was abandoned by whatever creature bore him unto this earth. Poor farmers found him beneath a sycamore, wailing against a cold wind. His eyes possessed curious yellow rings around his pupils, feeding ever-changing colors.
The farm’s modest acreage began to yield enormous harvests. As the boy grew, their profits multiplied, and thus they welcomed his presence as a great omen. The farmers bought more land, hired hands, and made a name in the valley.
But soon they noticed peculiarities in Lustin’s behavior. For one, they found it nigh impossible to wean the boy. He obsessed over the teat. His nurse was first to notice his joy, his lips and eyes entwined with her. It wasn’t the milk, but the sensation.
A hand pulled him from the bushes when he was seven, engaged in adult acts with a girl three years older. They scolded and beat him. But they soon noticed that though he screamed in agony, he never once slipped from the post. He took it, gladly.
He sang to girls, kissed them, then reached under their skirts. He made up stories, swore by false promises, lived alternate egos, and sought physical bliss. Consumed by reckless, unfulfilled desires, Lustin ran from the farm.
Madame M. found him adrift in a mountain city brimming with potent sexual appetites. His perversion, his field-born passion for the embrace of every woman, and his unquenchable desire to please secured him a box in her brothel.
In 1952, Edith Windsor is preparing for her debutante ball with cotillion classes. She enjoys Tupperware parties (to fill her hope chest!) and helping poor orphans through church fundraisers. She dislikes people who have no breeding and pet hair on her clothing. She writes songs, lyrics, and hybrid texts. She will sing the jingle for Brylcreem, but only if you ask her.
I am here, and I am Esmerelda Rose, a traveling gypsy, from Spain. Esmerelda is my name. My mother called me her little flower. I bring flowers to life for weary travelers with divination, poetry, and a little magic–the magic–the magic of love, language–beauty That is the fragrance I hope to impart to you, visitor, weary traveler–to all those who enter my tent.