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Samson House: North Elevation
No full textArchitect blueprint of the north elevation of the Samson House.https://docs.rwu.edu/baker_plans/1183/thumbnail.jp
Samson House: Sketch of Rebuilt House
No full textPen and Ink sketch of the design for the re-erected Samson House in Little Compton, Rhode Island.https://docs.rwu.edu/baker_plans/1180/thumbnail.jp
Samson House 026: Brownell House Interior
No full textBrownell House interiorhttps://docs.rwu.edu/baker_images/1933/thumbnail.jp
Samson House 016: Brownell House possibly bake oven
No full textBrownell House interior. This photograph is not labelled but is possibly the bake oven.https://docs.rwu.edu/baker_images/1928/thumbnail.jp
Samson House 038: End Chimney Dig at Brownell House
No full textPhotograph showing the end chimney dig and hearth at the Brownell House.https://docs.rwu.edu/baker_images/1939/thumbnail.jp
Only the Universe Really Knows
Get PDFHi! I\u27m Hannah DeFeo. I am a freshman Legal Studies and Creative Writing major, with a minor in Political Science. Ever since I was able to write, I have always had a passion for poetry. Most of the poetry I write is about the people I love and the places I\u27ve been, but I have only recently become passionate about sharing my poetry with others. One day, I hope to publish my work and share my words and personal narratives with anybody who feels inspired by them
Event Horizon
Get PDFI am a Providence-based artist, writer, and Roger Williams University graduate. In my work I try to embrace what William Wordsworth calls “the light of common day” — It’s impossible to make it through life unscathed or undistracted by the rush of daily obligations, insecurities and aspirations. Yet, in the quieter hours, I find myself thinking about how we are only here, in ourselves, this space, this moment, so briefly — it is, indeed, all we ever have until we go wherever it is we go next. But, until then, I’d like to live everything — to hear the bass of the car radio in my chest, the roll of laughter in conversation, to smell the sun on the sidewalk, or to see the way it hits my window in morning... In this way, I think, the gray of passing days can still be viewed with childlike wonder, yet with the sobering retrospect that things go forward — that the new becomes familiar, but beauty is there if you look, and memory is the stardust that shoots out of the blackhole that is grief. And we take this weight, and we get on. I make art and I write because I need to. James Baldwin said it best in Sonny\u27s Blues, For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn\u27t any other tale to tell, it\u27s the only light we\u27ve got in all this darkness
