Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Short End Of The Stick by short end of the stick. .) Why do I always get the short end of the stick? I want my fair share! She's unhappy because she has the short end of the stick again. short end of the stick, to get/have the. Link to this page: ▲ short end of the stick ▼ ▲ short end of the stick ▼ All content on this website, including dictionary, thesaurus, literature, geography, and other reference data is for informational purposes only. This information should not be considered complete, up to date, and is not intended to be used in place of a visit, consultation, or advice of a legal, medical, or any other professional. The meaning and origin of the expression: The short end of the stick. What's the meaning of the phrase 'The short end of the stick'? To get the short end of the stick is to come off worst in a bargain or contest. What's the origin of the phrase 'The short end of the stick'? The expression 'the . end of the stick' comes in many forms. The majority of these refer to getting the worse or, occasionally, the better part of a bargain. They inserted adjectives which indicate the bad outcome are ' short' , 'crappy' or 'blunt ' (or their synonyms or antonyms). There is also the phrase 'getting the wrong end of the stick', which has a different meaning, that is, 'having the facts wrong' or simply 'being mistaken'. Taking the occurrence of these in search engines as a guide, the four forms rank in popularity of current usage like this: 1. Short/shorter/long. 2. Wrong/rough/right. 3. Shit/shitty/dirty/crap/crappy. 4. Butt/blunt/pointy/pointed/thick. Both meanings of the phrase, that is, bad bargain or wrong facts, originated with a negative connotation. The 'long end of the stick' and 'right end of the stick' were coined later as simple opposites of their respective original form. The 'worst end of a bargain' form of the expression is quite an old phrase and, in keeping with its medieval origins, originally referred to a staff, rather than a stick; for example, the phrase occurs in Nicolas Udall's Apophthegmes of Erasmus , 1542: As often as thei see theim selfes to haue the wurse ende of the staffe in their cause. The jump from staff to stick was made explicit soon afterwards, when John Heywood published his notable reference work, A Dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the Prouerbes in the Englishe tongue, 1562: "The worst end of the staff", we now say "wrong end of the stick". Heywood makes it eminently clear that, in the 16th century, 'the wrong end of the stick' meant the same as 'the worst end of the stick'. The meaning of that phrase didn't change, that is, people didn't start getting the wrong end of the stick in the sense of 'being mistaken', until the mid 19th century. The earliest use that I can find of the phrase in that context is in the British political magazine The New Monthly Magazine , 1850: "I am so stupid - I am so apt to take things up in a wrong light. In fact, I am always getting hold of the wrong end of the stick." 'The short end of the stick' is by far the most commonly used form of the phrase. That is rather odd, in that the ends of sticks can be dirty or pointy, they can even be iridescent or hirsute, but it is difficult to see how they can be short. This has spawned the suggestion that 'short' is simply a euphemism for 'shit' - after all sticks can be shitty and that form of the phrase is also commonplace. The date of 'the shit end of the stick' makes this theory at least plausible, in that the phrase was known in that form by the mid 19th century, as in this example from The Swell's Night Guide , 1846: Which of us had hold of the crappy (sh-ten) end of the stick? I can find no examples of 'the short end of the stick' with the current figurative meaning that pre-date that example. To take the case for the opposition to the 'short' equals 'shit' premise, it isn't difficult to find examples in print of people grasping 'the short end of the stick' that are clearly intended to be literal, that is, a real stick was involved. What a short end of a stick is still unclear to me, but it seems that others, in the 19th century at least, knew what it meant. The jury is still out. GALERIE ERIC KLINKHOFF. We buy and sell paintings by Kathleen Morris. For inquiries, please contact us . View from an Inner Window. Art and the artist. Inseparable yet separate, first one then apart, the most symbiotic of all relationships and the most mysterious. Looking at art provokes an irresistible curiosity to peer behind the curtain and catch the artist at work, surrounded by his muses, brush in hand. But what if these accompanying inspirations turned out to be demons and the process of creation a tortured struggle? Would we care? Would it change how we looked at the work of art? It may and it may not, but the tale of Kathleen Moir Morris falls somewhere between the two mythical scenarios, and is one of courage and perseverance in the face of adversity. In this case, knowing the artist is a way of deepening one’s appreciation of her art, and yet so little has been written about her. Her true legacy lies in her quiet canvases, paintings that are hard to find these day, for they rarely leave the hands of their collectors. There value is as much emotional as economic, imbued as they are with the genius and spirit of the artist. Kathleen Moir Morris (1893-1986) is best known as a member of ’s , where she became part of a tightly knit community of women painters who chose art as their career, an audacious move in days when artistic pursuits were primarily a male occupation. She hared her dedication with, among others, Nora Collyer, Emily Coonan, Prudence Heward, Mabel Lockerby, , Lilias Torrance Newton, Sarah Robertson, Anne Savage and Ethel Seath, studying with such great artists and teachers as and Maurice Cullen. Largely ignored by art historians, these women produced a magnificent body of work, as diverse as they were, and distinctly Canadian. They were contemporaries of the . However, unlike the Group of Seven, whose accomplishments are well documented, Morris and her colleagues faced numerous challenges that their male counterparts were spared. This is a topic unto itself, and already covered in Barbara Meadowcroft’s timely book, Painting Friends, The Beaver Hall Women Painters (Véhicule Press, 1999). The story of Kathleen Morris is more than one of battling society’s mores. She was born physically infirm, suffering from a congenital disorder of the nervous system. It affected her speech and movements, but rather than succumb to her handicap, she blossomed amid the love and encouragement of her family, and painted, to use a colloquialism, “her heart out”. The story is not unusual in itself. Mexican painter Frida Kahlo dealt with her crippling accident and its after effects by transforming the experience into an eviscerating and brutally personal visual diary, while Toulouse-Lautrec dragged his shattered body into the underworld of Paris, seeking in the semi-monde both creative inspiration and spiritual oblivion. Morris’s approach to her lot was one of acceptance rather than rebellion, and her nature, despite the physical limitations, took flight in the realm of art with all the ardour and joy of an unfettered being. She was the fourth child and only daughter of Eliza Howard Bell and Montague John Morrie, and according to all who know the family, the apple of her mother’s eye. Noticing her predilection for drawing, she arranged first for piano lessons as a way of helping Kathleen co-ordinate her movements. That unfaltering support of the entire Morris family was, without a doubt, a defining factor in the artist’s career. Whether it was because of Morris’s gentleness of spirit, or her evident talent, that support continued throughout her formative years with the Art Association of Montreal and on in her life. She had an uncanny ability to touch people, leaving long-lasting impressions on all she met, whether they be buyers or friends. One of those to cross paths with her was Toller Cranston, international figure skater and artist, born and raised on Montreal’s West Island. The Cranston and Morris families summered in the same enclave of Marshall’s Bay, near Arnprior, Ontario. “Whether or not it was true,” he recalled, “I believed that Kathleen Morris, with her genetic and artistic struggles, sensed in me a kindred spirit. That gave me strength and inspiration. She paid attention to me, artist to artist, although my world was the antithesis of hers. Mine was mystical, dark, exotic, decorative, fantastic, and not of this world, while Kathleen’s depicted rural life and the honesty of nature. Each of her paintings glowed in its sincerity.” What a marvelously encapsulated paean, reflecting both the artist and the person, and the interconnectedness between the two. Although Morris painted mainly landscapes and city scenes, her works were executed with an intimacy that found its way into the brush stroke and the palette, evoking something kindred to a gentle touch. Her dialogue with nature recalls another great Canadian woman painter, , who shared with Morris an independence of spirit and an understanding of the animal world. Both spent long hours sketching outdoors, listening to the trees and the murmur of clouds, solitary yet never alone. But what a different picture they must have made! Carr, stocky and determined, forging into the woods in her caravan-cum-studio, and Morris, fragile and twisted, struggling with her brushes. “I couldn’t walk miles, so I would be taken out to paint in a sleigh where I would be dropped off,” Morris recalled in a 1976 interview with Wini Rider of The Gazette. “The snow was so deep that the only place I could paint was in the tracks of the sleigh. I wore an old fur coat with an apron over it and a fur hat with earflaps. I was enough to frighten anything that came down the road.” The occasion of the article was Morris’s exhibition at the Walter Klinkhoff Gallery, an experience that left both the public and the then-elderly artist deeply moved. Although she had been widely acclaimed during her career, at 82, Morris felt forgotten by the changing art world. The bucolic scenes she painted were by now snapshots of a bygone era – carriages with their blanket-clad horses replaced by buses, graceful church spires dwarfed by geometric high-rises. Any yet. Looking at Morris’s paintings, once again gracing the walls of the same art gallery, one is taken by their simple beauty and quiet pictorial order. These are works of the highest caliber, executed with all the confidence and astuteness of a great painter, taking the viewer beyond their narrative content and into the realm of pure visuals. The cities of Montreal, , and Ottawa, as well as their regions, provided her with an endless source of inspiration, and she found in their quotidian rhythm a melody that guided her on her painterly explorations. From the first, deeply textured, nervous strokes of her early works, to the gentle swoops of colour and line in her more recent landscapes, Morris exhibited a unique style that set her apart from her contemporaries. Her art can be compared to the work of the Nabis, a group of mainly French painters active in the 1890s, whose works were influenced by Gauguin’s expressive use of colour and rhythmic pattern. Like them, Morris translated her surroundings in an intuitive manner, guided by colour more than form, the latter at the service of the former. It is this uncommon, at the time, approach to landscape – the Group of Seven painters were fascinated by form as much as light – that makes Morris’s works seem so fresh today. They resonate with courage, both personal and artistic, and place her in the same category as David Milne, whose own quiet introspection took him on a very different creative journey. While Picasso was changing the shape of art across the ocean, in Morris’s quiet canvases time stands still, frozen for a moment in the flutter of birds huddled on a snow-covered branch, and in the deep green of trees lining the horizon. “I love to paint animals,” Morris used to say, “I think cows are just beautiful but they’re awful to paint. They’ve got lumps and bumps.” These very lumps become patches of white and black in her paintings, coalescing into the form of a cow only to, once again, turn into an abstract play of light and dark as we step away from the canvas. Morris painted city scenes with the same reverence for both subject and the demands of her métier. Long strokes make for a grid of buildings, the edges fluid, overlapping the image as if wrapped in an invisible tremor that vibrates underneath the paint, forming the texture as it meanders across the canvas. She painted from sketches, in which she simplified the forms and applied colour in bold, thick patches. When translating the image to a much larger canvas, Morris thinned the paint and added more detail to the architectural elements, but ultimately her works remain fluid, as if still in the process of becoming. Writing about her 1939 solo exhibition, critic Robert Ayre found this approach “dispirited”. “I have the feeling that she stops too soon, that she doesn’t push far enough into her pictures.” Perhaps this very reticence is what makes Morris’s paintings so endearing to the viewer. The hover on that edge between reality and the unseen, allowing the eye to complete the image, allowing the one looking into the picture, as it were, to see into the heart of the artist. Morris painted that way she was, unassuming and yet very present. Her subject matter reflected her kinship with her surroundings and an appreciation of the simple life. She also felt deeply for the animal world, voicing her concerns publicly, as when she wrote to the press protesting the annual seal hunt. It is perhaps this combination of the emotional with the pictorial that makes the works of Kathleen Moir Morris so pleasing to the eye. That appeal has outlasted numerous art trends and continues to this day. There is a marvelous respite in looking at her paintings, a sensation rarely associated with contemporary, conceptual art that aims to provoke rather than please. But the pendulum swings, and a new generation of artist, whether in reaction to the public or because of their own need for a form of expression other than abstract, is returning to the figurative. Young artists on both sides of the ocean are once again studying the human form, rediscovering in the joy of painting what is closest to us, ourselves and our world, a new artistic challenge. The mind is ceding to the spirit, as it were, in art as elsewhere. For Kathleen Morris there was never a question of painting with anything other than her heart. Away from the proverbial “madding crowd”, at once condemned to and enamoured of her closest surroundings, she painted her own path into art history, and into the heart of anyone who wants to peek behind the curtain. Source: Kathleen Morris Retrospective Exhibition Catalogue, Galerie Walter Klinkhoff (2003). Kathleen Morris 1900-01-01 00:00:00 &emdash 1900-01-01 00:00:00 ) --> (b. 1893 - d. 1986) A painter of landscapes and lively street scenes, often animated by the presence of humans and animals, Kathleen Morris met with considerable success during her lengthy career as an artist. After studying under William Brymner and Maurice Cullen, Morris became a member of the Beaver Hall Hill Group and exhibited frequently in Quebec and Ontario with the Royal Canadian Academy, the Montreal Spring Shows and the Ontario Society of Artists. Except for a short stint in Ottawa (1922-29), she lived her entire life in Montreal, frequently depicting scenes of urban life in warm colours, with an eye for the humane, the charming and the joyful. Her work has been shown all over the world, in exhibits such as the British Empire Exhibition, Wembley, England (1924-25), the Exposition d'art canadien, Musée du Jeu de Paume, Paris, France (1927), at the British Empire Trade Exhibition, Buenos Aires, Argentina (1931), Pintura Canadense Contemporanea, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (1944), and many more. She was elected to the Royal Canadian Academy in 1929 and received honourable mention at the Second Willingdon Arts Competition. Her work can be found in the collections of the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria, the Art Gallery of Hamilton, Hart House at the , the Mackenzie King Museum, the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, the National Gallery of Canada, the National Archives of Canada, and the Canadian Legation in Paris. Past Exhibitions. Collector's Choice 7 October 2016 — 30 October 2016. Oeno Gallery. Be the first to know. News, features on artists, events and special offerings. Enter your email address. We respect your privacy. ©2021 Oeno Gallery. Design and Code by: design + awesome and Vaughan Group. 15 Blogging Tips for Students and Teachers. As I regularly help students and other teachers set up their blogs, I find myself giving lots of little tips that I have picked up on my own blogging journey. My list of tips keeps expanding and I thought it was timely to republish an updated version of this post. Many of these ideas have originally come from some of my blogging “mentors” such as Linda Yollis and Sue Waters. Here are 10 15 Blogging Tips for Students and Teachers. 1. Post frequency: Find a balance. Don’t post too often (ie. daily) otherwise you will not be able to generate much conversation through commenting and readers won’t be able to keep up. Post too infrequently (ie. monthly) and your readers might start to forget about you. I advise my students to post no more than once or twice a week, while three times a week works well for my class blog. Decide what works for you. 2. Reply to comments: I am often disappointed by student and adult bloggers who do not reply to their comments on their own blog. I feel that it is basic blogging etiquette to reply. Acknowledge your readers’ comments, interact with them and they will be encouraged to comment again. 3. Have an “About” page: The first thing I do when I visit a new blog is look at the About page. I am always disappointed when there isn’t one! Don’t keep your readers in the dark about who you are and what you’re blogging about. 4. Theme changes: Students love playing around with different themes when they first start blogging. I encourage them to explore for a week or so but then advice them to find a good theme and stick with it. Readers may be able to identify less with your blog if it looks different every time they visit it. 5. Fun widgets: Young bloggers love widgets! In my opinion, it is advisable to limit “fun” or “novelty” widgets. Too many widgets take away from the actual content of the blog posts and can slow down loading time! I suggest my students have no more than three “fun widgets” such as virtual pets, Christmas countdowns, jokes, tips, music clips etc. 6. Add a search box: Early on in the year, I teach my students how to use the search box on blogs to find content. I find it frustrating when blogs don’t have the search box. This simple tool allows readers to find what they’re looking for and means when your posts are no longer on the front page, they won’t be lost. 7. Subscribe via email: While I also use Google Reader and Twitter to keep track of blogs I like, I love having the ability to subscribe via email to my favourite blogs. Adding this feature could bring more regular visitors to your blog. 8. Add links to blog posts and comments: Links help your visitors gain a deeper understanding of what they’re reading. Links in blog posts can also be used to acknowledge or compliment others’ work. Links in blog comments can add extra information to a conversation. If you don’t know how to add a link to a blog comment, check out Linda Yollis’ excellent blog post and quick video. 9. Visit other blogs: You can’t expect many people to read and comment on your blog if you don’t read and comment on others’ blogs. You have to be part of the blogging community to get the most out of blogging. 10. End with a question: On my class blog and this blog I like to end with a question to stimulate and direct conversation in the comment section. My Grade Two bloggers are learning how to ask “broader” questions that will appeal to more readers (eg. if a child writes a post about a holiday to Noosa, instead of simply asking “have you ever been to Noosa?” they could ask readers to leave a comment and describe a holiday they have been on etc). 11. Don’t lose your comment: All my students now know how to select all (Control A) and copy (Control C) their comment before they hit “submit”. This allows them to paste (Control V) the comment if something goes wrong when they hit the “submit” button. This happens fairly frequently with young students due to the wrong spam word being entered etc. Read My grade two student Millie’s post about this tip here. 12. Left align your writing: I used to be guilty of centering all of my text until I realised this is not easy on the eye and not what professional writers do (always good to look to the professionals for guidance when in doubt). Style guides usually suggest that centered text is best for invitations, posters, headings etc. 13. Use paragraphs and sub-headings: As a writer, you need to do as much as you can to make your post easy to read. I am likely to stop reading something that doesn’t have any paragraph breaks. The more your writing is spaced out the better. Having key words or sub heading in bold/colour can also make your post easier on the eye. 14. Don’t copy and paste from MS Word: If you’ve been blogging for a while you may have experienced the dreaded consequence of copying and pasting text from Microsoft Word into a blog post. It is a big no no! Doing this can give you bad code which can ruin the layout of your blog. If you do want to copy and paste from Word you either need to paste the text into the HTML section of your editor or paste the text into Notepad (or the Mac equivalent) and then copy and paste that text into your post editor. If you want to read more about this, check out Sue Waters’ post here. 15. Stick with it: One of the biggest mistakes bloggers make is to give up too easily. Stick with it and reap the rewards!