My So-Called Interview with Amanda Seyfried: Emus, Halloween, Apple Pie, Olives, Hard Cider

Amanda Seyfried and Tommy Sadoski (Jojo Magotes photo above + video below)

"I like to talk about the emus. 
I like to talk about Halloween.
And you can engage with me 

if you want to talk about all things 

having to do with apple pie and olives 

and really good hard ciders."  

Here is the full text from my so-called interview with Amanda Seyfried on October 17, 2026 at the Academy Museum Gala in L.A. right after her interview with the Hollywood Reporter.

JOJO MAGOTES: Hi, Amanda! Good to see you again, it's been awhile. I think the last time we spoke in person was the summer of 2017 in Bennington. You and Tommy walked into the gallery with your newborn daughter and bought a couple pieces of art. With a little encouragement on my part you sat down at the old piano with its wonky keys and played a piece of your favorite Billy Joel song. You were super nervous but it was endearing to watch and you did a nice job while Tommy looked at you with adoring eyes and I thought it was a really neat moment in the gallery. 

AMANDA: Yeah, I've watched that video over the years, and it's a little embarrassing, but I think you captured the essence of who I am. I'm willing to try anything in the spur of the moment, and I appreciate that you asked me to step out of my comfort zone by playing the piano. I'll always love that Billy Joel song. I've been working on it for the last couple years actually. 

JOJO MAGOTES: OK, Amanda, let's get on with this. I caught the end of your interview with the Hollywood Reporter. That was a bit of a head scratcher, huh? 

 

AMANDA: For sure that's one word for it. Head Scratcher. 

JOJO MAGOTES: What about that list of things you'd rather talk about instead of why the Internets hates on you right now? I don't quite understand the outrage.

AMANDA: Here's what I said: "I like to talk about the emus. I like to talk about Halloween. And you can engage with me if you want to talk about all things having to do with apple pie and olives and really good hard ciders." 

JOJO MAGOTES: So let's do that. No heavy stuff. Just the list which is more interesting than person, woman, man, camera, TV.

AMANDA (laughs): Thank God. Nobody ever actually listens to the list. They hear the list and then they ask about the heavy stuff anyway, but louder. They ask about Elizabeth Holmes anyway, but louder. Or about Billy — Billy what's-his-name, Evans — but louder. Or about Nathan, the director guy, but louder. You're the first person tonight who heard the list and just ... did the list. 

JOJO MAGOTES: Let's start with emus? 

AMANDA: The emu manages me now. I don't know when that started. 

JOJO MAGOTES: So it's just one emu not a pack of emus? 

AMANDA: Yes, just one emu, and it just — it books my jobs, it reads my scripts, and it rejected three of them by standing in the doorway until the director left. It takes ten percent of everything I earn and spends it on grapes and silence. I tried to fire it and it said, through its lawyer — it doesn't have a lawyer, I gave it a lawyer, I don't know why I did that — it said you can't fire the thing that's been waiting for you since before you were born. It wrote my eulogy. It's four words long and I'm not allowed to see it. And the thing is, Jojo Magotes, the emu stares at me, and when it stares at me I start talking lower. Like this. Lower. Slower. I don't know why. I don't know. That's not my voice. That's — that's her voice. I didn't used to talk like that. The emu did that. The emu stared me into her voice. I blame the emu. I blame the emu for that. 

JOJO MAGOTES: What about Halloween, Amanda? 

AMANDA: In years past I've gone as the concept of Tuesday, which nobody understood, including me. This year I'm going as an apology letter. Not a person apologizing — the letter. Four hundred pages. It just says "regarding the incident" over and over, and the incident is never specified, which is the scariest part, because everyone who reads it assumes it's about them. I hand out candy like a normal girl next door, except I run out of candy, so I hand out black olives, and the kids just stare at me, and one of them says "lady, are you okay," and I say "I'm great, I'm having a great Halloween," and I'm crying, but like, in a nice way? In a friendly way? Because I'm still — I'm still the girl next door, I just don't live next door to myself anymore. And the costume won't come off. You can't take off an apology letter, you can only keep writing it. So I'm still writing it. I'm writing it right now. On this carpet. In front of you. Regarding the incident. Regarding the incident. (small laugh, wiping her eyes) Sorry. Halloween's my favorite. It really is. 

JOJO MAGOTES: What does the costume for a 400 page apology letter even look like? 

AMANDA: Okay, so, it's a dress, but it's not a dress, it's four hundred pages stapled together in the shape of a dress, and every page just says "regarding the incident," and the incident is never specified, so people keep walking up to me going "is this about me," and I have to go "I don't know, is it," and then they cry, and then I cry, and then we're both crying in a pile of pages. And there's a veil, but the veil is the cover page, and the cover page just says "SORRY" in really big letters, and then underneath it, in tiny letters, it says "but not for that," and nobody knows what "that" is, including me. And the train — the train goes on for, like, three blocks, and every page on the train is blank except the last one, which says "see attached," and there is no attachment, there never was an attachment, the attachment is the costume, you're wearing the attachment. And the best part — the best part is the pockets. The pockets are full of extra pages, so if anyone wants a copy, I just hand them a page, and they read it, and they go "this is just the same page," and I go "I know, that's the apology, it's the same apology, four hundred times, because I couldn't think of a new one." And it rustles when I walk. It rustles like a secret. Like a really loud secret. 

JOJO MAGOTES: I'm almost afraid to ask about apple pie. 

AMANDA (smirking): Apple pie is safe because apple pie has never been asked about its personal life. Apple pie doesn't have a documentary. Apple pie gets baked, it gets eaten, it gets to leave. Nobody stands apple pie on a carpet for forty-five minutes asking it to explain itself while cameras click in its face. But the pie — the pie told me things. The pie said I was honest, and then the pie's lawyer, Crust, said I couldn't say it was good, because the pie disputes that, and then the pie died, natural causes, meaning someone ate it while crying, and we held a funeral, and the ice cream came in a black veil and melted during the eulogy. And I cried at the funeral. I cried as Amanda. I think I cried as Amanda. The pie made me cry as Amanda, and then the pie made me cry as — no. Stop. The pie is to blame for that. I blame the apple pie. 

JOJO MAGOTES: So tell us about the green olives. Or is that black olives? Or is it a combination of olives? Is it an olive medley? Are they martini olives? 

AMANDA: Not green. Black. Green olives are young, they still believe in things, black olives have seen things. They're not just a decoration in a martini glass, you know? People think they are, and they're not. The olive is preserved. That's the whole thing. It doesn't rot. It just sits in the brine and waits. And the brine is — the brine is where you figure out who you are, except the brine figured me out wrong, because I went in as Amanda and I came out as — no. No, I'm Amanda. I'm Amanda right now. Mostly. 

CAMERA: (click click click click) 

AMANDA: See? That's the sound of my feelings being documented. Next. Cider. 

JOJO MAGOTES: Moving along now ... what are your thoughts on hard cider, Amanda? 

AMANDA: Hard cider is what you drink when you want to be somewhere else but your feet have to stay here. It's apples that gave up on being solid, and I respect that, because I want to give up on being solid. I want to become a feeling and evaporate over the hedge. But I can't, because I'm standing here, and I'm solid, and everyone can see me being solid. The cider wrote a memoir about me, and then it got sober, and a sober cider remembers everything, and now it just sits in my fridge, not saying anything, just existing at me. And the cider is to blame too. The cider told me to keep going. The cider said, "you're doing great," in a low voice, in her voice, and I believed it, because the cider was right there, and I was right there, and she was right there, and I don't know where she ends anymore. I don't know. I blame the cider. 

JOJO MAGOTES: Okay, I have to ask this, because everyone watching is thinking it. Amanda — why do you keep blinking so much at me? You keep closing your eyes for seconds at a time. Like, full seconds. What's happening there? Is this another Elizabeth Holmes moment? Do you think I'm Nathan Fielder in this cosplay interview? I'm not Canadian if that's what you're implying.

AMANDA: You don't strike me as Canadian. But to answer the question, every time I close my eyes, I'm somewhere else for a second. I'm home. I'm in a field. I'm nowhere near a carpet. The blink is the only door out of here that nobody can block. They can block the actual doors — trust me, I've checked, there's a velvet rope situation — but they cannot block the blink. So I take long ones. I take the longest ones I can take without someone asking if I'm okay, and then someone always asks if I'm okay, and then I have to open my eyes and be here again, where the cameras are, and the emu is, and the olive is, and you are, asking me about the blinking, which is the one thing that was working. And when my eyes are closed, I'm Amanda. I know I'm Amanda when my eyes are closed. It's when I open them that I get confused. Because she's there. In the cameras. Looking back at me. 

JOJO MAGOTES: So the blinks are... escapes. 

AMANDA: (another long blink, even longer) The blinks are vacations. Tiny ones. All-inclusive. No cameras. No her. 

JOJO MAGOTES: I see. Looks like you're being herded to the next interview but before you go — what did you name the emu? 

AMANDA: Ambassador Doctor Cornelius Q. Featherstonehaugh-Waddlesworth the Third, Esquire, Grand Vizier of the Gravel Lot and Rightful Heir to the Concept of Waiting. 

JOJO MAGOTES: Why such an absurd name? 

AMANDA: Because the emu eats short names. I tried Kevin. Gone. Steve. Gone. So I gave it a name too long to swallow in one sitting. It's been chewing on it for three years and still hasn't finished. The name is the only thing in my life the emu can't finish, and that's why I sleep at night. And now I've said it twice, which means he's heard me, which means he's coming, which means this interview is actually over. (already turning toward the doors) When I open my eyes I will be inside, and you will be out here, and the emu will be standing exactly where I was, and nobody will be able to tell the difference. Nobody ever can.

 

JOJO MAGOTES: One last question, Amanda, I swear — what did you do with the Emmy you won for playing Elizabeth Holmes? 

AMANDA: The man from Mars ate it. Along with the bars and guitars and Cadillacs and Subarus. 

JOJO MAGOTES: The man from Mars ate your Emmy? 

AMANDA: He eats cars, Jojo Magotes! What did you think was going to happen to it? 

JOJO MAGOTES: Is that a hint about your next role? Are you going to play Blondie? 

AMANDA blinked a few times, started laughing as she walked away, turned her head toward me, and with her trademark devilish smile began singing ...

Toe to toe 

Dancing very close

Barely breathing

Almost comatose

Shaky Dave

BENNINGTON -- Just read a story about a man whom police found dead in the woods behind a cemetery up in Hartford. David Woodward, 51. First thought was that it was "Shaky Dave" but 51 would have been too young, but you never know.

Called the Hartford PD a few minutes ago to see if the man they found dead in the woods behind the cemetery was Shaky Dave.

Shaky Dave, legend has it, was one of White River Junction's best athletes and a terrific kid who fought in Vietnam then came home. One day, they say, he rode in the back of pick-up with friends and for whatever reason he fell out and banged his head on the road pretty good and it fucked him up for life. Never really spoke but communicated in terse grunts though a few words managed to string themselves together every now and then.

In the early to mid aughts I lived at the Coolidge Hotel during the run as sports editor at the Spectator and often bought a bagel and coffee next door. Shaky Dave stood in front of the shop now and again and so we'd interact here and there. He amused me. I amused him. One day I pointed my Nikon D-100 at him. He grunted no. I said, C'mon! He smiled and flipped me the bird, touching his middle finger to his nose. Above the knuckles on his fingers were tattooed letters L O V E.

Click.

Don't remember if the fingers on his right hand read H A T E.

The dispatcher returned from the sergeant's office a few moments later to inform me that the man police found was not Shaky Dave.

"But they told me to tell you that the guy you're talking about died last year."

Bummer.

On the other hand, Shaky Dave's having a great ol' time in the Great Beyond, no doubt grunting a few words together and flipping dead photographers the L O V E bird.

Vignettes from Vermont: Of Corse!

BENNINGTON -- Vanessa Corse walks into Fiddlehead at Four Corners yesterday lugging several jugs and glass bottles of Vermont maple syrup because the art gallery decided to sell the sweet stuff ...

Art Gallery Dude engages Vanessa for about 20 minutes because one, she's sweet and shy yet easy to talk up and two, because she came all the way down the mountain from Whitingham, and that's a place close to AGD's heart:

BRATTLEBORO, FALL '99 -- I'm assistant sports editor of the Reformer rag.

The sports editor covers Brattleboro High and I cover the other 6 high schools in our area spanning both sides of the Connecticut River: Bellows Falls, Leland & Gray, Green Mountain, Wilmington, Whitingham and Hinsdale. Hinsdale is in New Hampshire. People go to Hinsdale to bet on dog races. "And there goes the Colonel!"

I love covering all of the schools for their unique, quirky personalities, but the rides I look forward to the most are the ones that wind, twist and curl up Old Lady 9, to the top, about halfway between Brattleboro and Bennington ...

Many days and nights I stay on 9 past the White House then pass "the spine of Vermont" and slowly pull up to, and make a left into, the Wilmington High parking lot.

Wilmington High. Year in and year out Wilmington is of Vermont's best little schools for sports, mainly soccer and basketball. There is no football team so most boys grow up playing soccer in the pipeline, and by the ninth grade they're usually ready for varsity.

The two best sports teams in Wilmington revolve around the same guy, Buddy Hayford, athletic director and head coach for the champion boys soccer program ...

Buddy Hayford addresses the team after a playoff win in 2000
(Joey Kulkin photo)

Wilmington striker Fran Barone (left)
and Black River's Casey Valente battle for a 50-50 ball
during a semifinal in Ludlow in 1999.  Refs called a foul
on Barone and the Presidents converted the restart
from near midfield into a goal to win 1-0.
 It was an awful hometown call.
(Joey Kulkin photo)

... and the champion girls hoops team ...

Wilmington girls hoops: Always as good as it got
(Joey Kulkin photo)

Back in '99, the Wilmington girls soccer team won the D-4 title then won it again the next three years, meaning Chris Walling starts his coaching career as a 4-time state champion. Buddy Hayford enjoyed the same success as girls hoops coach. If the Warriors didn't win state titles back then they played in the title game, or short of that made the semifinals at the old brick building on the hill in Barre. It's called the Barre Auditorium, or The Aud. Thing about Buddy is that he's an intense talent who could've coached bigger and better yet chose to stay home on the mountaintop. There's a certain charm to those kind of hometown heroes.

So anyway, Wilmington in those days is a great place for a sportswriter because the Warriors usually kick ass. That's what they did atop the mountain between Bennington and Brattleboro.

The other side of the mountain is a special place on earth, too, where lots of brothers, sisters, grandparents and cousins of Wilmingtonians live. Or vice-versa. Maybe Whitingham used to be the all-encompassing place to live and folks began to sprawl into Wilmington a hundred years ago. Who knows. Either way, Whitingham is a charming little piece of turf.

The days and nights I don't go to Wilmington are the days and nights I make a left onto Route 100 and drive the twisted road down into Jacksonville ...

... and 6 or 7 miles later at the T at the bottom I make a right at the Jacksonville Store, drive past the birthplace sign paying homage to the founder of Salt Lake City ...

Jacksonville Country Store across the street;
Whitingham also is the birthplace to the man
who founded Manhattan, Kansas
(Google Commons photo)

... then double back up into the hillside till I reached Whitingham.

Whitingham feels like 1793, or Walton Mountain. It's just different. Charming, different.

Whitingham High plays in Division IV for Vermont's tiniest schools, and in 1999 the boys teams are stuck in a down cycle. They struggle to win more than a game or two per sport. A few years ago, people say, the hoops team had a 6-foot-5 kid with a Biblical first name (Jacob maybe?) and a strong game. In fact, they say, one of the recent boys teams made state quarterfinals or semifinals.

But right now the boys who play soccer, basketball and baseball don't win many games, and in 1999 state titles are the last thing anyone on this side of the mountain expect from them.

On the flip side, I'd take just about any Whitingham boy to win a snowmobile race.

I always try to take a kick-ass photo of a Whitingham boys "moment" and pitch it to the news editor for A1 consideration. 

The clouds aligned one afternoon ...

... the picture complemented an A1 story about Vermont's Act 60 debate over property taxes and education spending. Whitingham is smack-dab in the middle of the fight so having a bright Whitingham photo alongside the Act 60 story makes a strong A1 package. Not to mention it's probably the first time Whitingham baseball has made the front page of the Reformer -- or any Vermont rag -- so this is why I jump at any chance to drive to Whitingham, to give these forgotten athletes a little exposure. Because everyone up there knows that 9.999 times out of 10 it's Wilmington Wilmington Wilmington Wilmington Wilmington Wilmington Wilmington. And that's not a dig on Wilmington. 

Whitingham High baseball gets a rare spotlight today.

The baseball photo above also speaks to the aesthetics of Whitingham athletes on so many levels. Justin Bartlett is squatty, beefy and pudgy while the Thayer third baseman is tall, great bone structure, muscular, angular and agile -- a ballplayer's ballplayer.

Back to soccer ...

Here is Whitingham boys soccer vis-a-vis other Vermont teams I've been able to capture. 

The first moment takes place circa '95. I'm at the Bennington Banner covering Arlington High -- then one of Vermont's top 5 soccer programs coached by John Werner ...

... a high-flying Arlington Eagle about to head one into the back. The two helpless Whitingham fullbacks and late-charging keeper had no chance, and this is routine.

The second example takes place four years later when I'm a Reformer sportswriter ...

When the Whitingham coach tells his players to slide tackle they take it to heart and pummel the poor guy. One fullback is ramming the striker's head into his crotch and I'm not even sure what No. 10 is doing while the keeper scurries to cover the ball.

Good times. It's the funniest soccer photo I'll ever take. Can't beat the humor.

A third experience with Whitingham boys soccer is Senior Day against Mount St. Joseph on the lush yet soggy expanse behind the school. It's the worst soccer team I'll ever cover, between teams with a combined 2-22-1 record. The Reformer sports department -- all two of us -- commit to cover all of our teams' Senior games if at all possible.

I write ...

It was a sour ending for seniors Tom Hermann and Tony Rinaldi, as Coach Chris Prenoveau said the Trojans most likely will not earn a playoff berth into the Division IV playoffs. "There's probably a lot of frustration on their part," Prenoveau said of Hermann and Rinaldi, who have played three years on the varsity. Unless Whitingham Athletic Director Fran Alsieri decides otherwise, the Trojans' season will end 1-12.

I need to know who Whitingham beat for its only win that season.

The Whitingham girls soccer team, which beat MSJ 4-1, headlined that "Senior Sendoff" package. Here's a closer look at the photo ...

... a goal by freshman Gigi Cunningham during a 4-goal barrage in the first half.

Earlier that season I snap a picture of the glitter-faced girls and pitch it for a "standalone" on A1. 

To my surprise he uses it ...

... and the "Glitter Girls" are born.

Understand that Whitingham athletes making the front page of the Brattleboro Reformer doesn't happen often, so this picture of several fresh-faced Whitingham girls thrills just about everyone on that side of the mountain. I don't know its full impact till hoops season.

Hoops season at Whitingham ...

Whitingham's "gym" is straight out of 1931. 

I call it the Tile Factory because the of the linoleum-tiled floor. Grime covers the 1950's windows that you open and close with a long, hooked stick. 

The Tile Factory serves as cafeteria, theater and hall for Town Meeting.

1972 Whitingham Town Meeting (Deerfield Valley News photo)

Something neat happens during the 1999-2000 season. Marc "Hollywood" Colford starts his first year as girls hoops coach with four freshmen on the roster: Gigi Cunningham, Ashley Sprague, Bekky Honkala, Sarah Mandracchia. Whitingham doesn't have a JV team but these freshmen would have led the jayvees to 50-point wins every night. They're going to be state champs one day, I thought.

Despite storm warnings one night I drive up the mountain one night and walk into the Tile Factory only to see players straggling around the court, out of uniform. Folding chairs aren't set up for either team. No scorer's table. Bleachers pushed in. Other team won't risk a stormy drive and postpones and no one blames them. Vermont winters.

I hang around an hour and chat up Colford and his players to get a vibe for the mountaineers, ask them inane questions like what they want to be when they grow up.

Lawyer, teacher, doctor, astronaut ...

... then the 6-foot freshman pipes up and answers "world dominator" -- and Bekky Honkala's answer is funny 13 years later.

Bekky Honkala (31)

Bekky Honkala with the layup

Here's where the "GLITTER GIRLS" moment comes into play.

I walk the halls that night. GO, GLITTER GIRLZ! signs and banners are everywhere. The "GLITTER GIRLS" photo had become their calling card apparently. Signs and banners appear at every game. You don't go out of your way to coin a meme but you always enjoy when a school takes something you've written and runs with it, adopts it. Glitter Girlz! I can dig it. They certainly did.

The Glitter Girlz, powered by the fab freshmen, finish the regular season 13-7. They must play their first playoff "home" game at Wilmington because Whitingham's Tile Factory is not kosher in the eyes of the Vermont Principals Association.

Whitingham parents and fans plaster GLITTER GIRLS! posters all over Wilmington's bandbox before the Glitter Girls beat Whitcomb in a battle of whits. The final horn blares and freshman redhead Ashley Sprague jumps into arms of a teammate for a hug like they just won the state title. Click ...

Joey Kulkin photo

The picture ran in the paper.

I leave the Reformer a few months later and stop following the Glitter Girlz. I'm told they make the semis again in '02 and then there would be no more Glitter Girlz because ... well, keep reading.

IT'S NEARLY 14 YEARS AFTER THE FALL OF 1999 and I'm Art Gallery Dude, and yesterday morning and I'm talking to a sweet, kind, gentle woman who had just lugged jugs and bottles of maple syrup from Corse Farm in Whitingham.

Vanessa shared a sweet little love story tinged with glitter.

"My parents had a house up here in Whitingham for their vacation house," the native of Buffalo began in a reserved tone, "and my parents' farm adjoined the Corse property." Her parents retired to the farm and Vanessa, 19 or 20, moved with them. "I had horses and bought hay for my horse from the Corses, and that's how Ray and I got together."

That was 1979. Ray and Vanessa Corse married in '80. Sweet Whitingham love indeed.

Soon after Vanessa explains her knowledge of the sapping process at Corse Farm but half of my mind thinks back to those road trips into 1793 Vermont and those experiences with the Glitter Girls.

Late in the day I dig through my archives -- EUREKA! -- and find the origin ...

I couldn't remember how "Glitter Girls" began. I thought the meme began during hoops season so it was nice to dig into a box of archives I thought I'd lost forever and find a bunch of Whitingham clips I thought I'd never see again. Whitingham is no more. No Wilmington, either. They merged into Twin Valley High to start the 2002-03 year. High schoolers go to Wilmington, Whitingham gets the lower grades. That arrangement will change soon: a new building near Wilmington Pass Road in Whitingham, which is near Corse Farm, will house the high schoolers (scaring the bejesus out of Vanessa Corse because of the increase in traffic, speeding, drugs). Meanwhile, the lower grades will learn in Wilmington.

I skim the cutline in the photo above and notice the last name. Of Corse.

AND, OF COURSE,  THIS JUST HAPPENED: A Long Islander by the name of Stuart Kravette walks into Fiddlehead and tells AGD that he loves the music he hears.

Grateful Dead: Stanley Theater 9/27/72.

AGD notices how much Stuart Kravette from Commack, Long Island, New York, looks like he could be one of his dad's long-lost brothers if, indeed, his dad had a long-lost brother or three; incidentally, AGD's dad's middle name is Stuart. Come on!

Stuart says the owners of South Street Cafe sent him here after he asked about buying Vermont maple syrup. South Street Cafe sent you? Here? Really?

"They said you sold 200-year-old maple syrup."

"Well, Corse Farm is 145 years old," AGD said.

AGD shows Stuart a picture of the Glitter Girls and then the Long Islander taps his wallet to pay for a jug of maple syrup from a really old farm in Whitingham.

Ever wonder how maple syrup is born? Click HERE

Fiddlehead at Four Corners, 338 Main Street, Bennington
www.getartbehappy.com

Vignettes from Vermont: Closing the Opening

One of the nearly 150 people who attended the opening reception
looks at Brian Hewitt's work in the mezzanine at Fiddlehead at Four Corners.
You can buy Hewitt's works HERE (Joey Kulkin photo)

BENNINGTON -- Be it by blind luck, kismet, circularity, coincidence or bits and pieces of them all, Brian Hewitt's diamond-framed triptych of the Park-McCullough House is staying in North Bennington after Lesley Jacobson won the piece during Hewitt's opening reception Friday night at Fiddlehead at Four Corners.

Jacobson lives in North B on the back side of old Park-McCullough turf. She visited Fiddlehead six days earlier after reading an article about the reception and raffle in the Bennington Banner, which is where Hewitt worked in the mid-'90s as the director of advertising. Jacobson loved his original oils on canvas depicting one of Vermont's landmark estates and explained why in a video with Art Gallery Dude

"They had exceptional power to them and I just love his unique perspective," Jacobson told AGD, who was a sportswriter at the Banner when Hewitt was schlepping ads.

"Fall"

"Winter"

"Summer"

Park-McCullough House triptych

Jacobson delivered her spot appreciation and bought 5 raffle tickets for the triptych an hour or two before John and Bertie Noble of Bennington fell in love with Hewitt's work on Fiddlehead's mezzanine and began the process of buying a print of the Park-McCullough House centerpiece called "Fall".

Lo and behold, it was the Noble's granddaughter who reached into the jar that held roughly 150 raffle tickets and picked out one of Jacobson's. Funny how life be sometimes.

And yet there's another ties-that-bind aspect to the story about Hewitt, Jacobson and the Park-McCullough estate. But you've got to keep reading.

The raffle capped a 4-hour shindig during which about 150 receptionistas drank 12 bottles of free wine and schmoozed and hobnobbed and rubbed elbows and tickled each others' fancies and listened to guitar heroes Tommy Marshall of North Adams and Sam Clement of Bennington. They opened the set with a cool version of KT Tunstall's "Big Black Horse and A Cherry Tree" which you can watch at the bottom.

If there was a downer, only one of Hewitt's pieces sold -- a print of "Winter" although the flip side is it's the second print to sell in a week so maybe it's the start of a hot streak.

Sales from raffle tickets raised $535 for the Park-McCullough House.

No one from the Park-McCullough House attended the reception, a true downer. And it's another example of how Bennington's art scene is "passionate and disjointed."

Here's a passionate slice of life in a Vermont art gallery ...

Bennington socialite Ann Jareckie helped organize the reception
and sold the most raffle tickets

Cider Magazine writer Josh Smith showed up to interview Hewitt
and Fiddlehead owner Joel Lentzner for a story

Brian Hewitt, Tommy Marshall and Ann Jareckie
look up at the mezzanine

Cider Mag's Josh Smith (hat) interviews Hewitt (center)
and Fiddlehead owner Joel Lentzner

Another vantage point of the interview

And another.

Canes and Able: Bud Hewitt (Brian's dad)
and Tommy Marshall make their entrance

Tommy Marshall making another entrance
with his geetar. The boy can pick it.

Brian, Joel and Josh one more time

Gallery owner by day, gallery bartender by night

Art Gallery Dude thinks he's artsy with the camera

Bud Hewitt becomes the second-oldest artista
to Chalk It Up in the Graffiti Vault.
For the oldest person click HERE

Bud and Brian.
Bud drew a Double-TT for the farm he owned,
the Double-TT representative of his name Merritt Hewitt;
Brian's middle name is Merritt.

Bud's girlfriend who did a great job
selling raffle tickets during the reception

Tommy Marshall and picking partner Sam Clement;
they opened with a great version of KT Tunstall's
"Big Black Horse and A Cherry Tree"

Up in Fiddlehead's mezzanine

which features a dozen Brian Hewitt works

Brian McKenna looks at "Prospect Street"
which is part of Hewitt's North Bennington series

Ellen Jareckie, a true Carolina firecracker

Of mothers and daughters: Ellen and Ann Jareckie

Eric Wood chats in the Graffiti Vault;
the Google-certified photographer took the cover photo
of "Chalk It Up 2!"

Of men and conversations

John Shanahan, executive director for Better Bennington Corporation,
reads Joey Kulkin's "Chalk It Up 2!" He appeared in the first Chalk It Up!

The wife of a Fiddlehead regular shows off the earrings
he bought her a few weeks ago. Want some? HERE

Shanahan, Hewitt and Sunburst

At the peak of the reception there were 47 in the gallery

And the winner is ...

Lesley Jacobson of North Bennington

But if you think that's the end of the coincidences ...

What is the bind between Lesley and Ron
and the Park-McCullough House?
Watch the following video:

Brian Hewitt chats with AGD on Saturday morning ...

And as promised, Tommy and Sammy riffin' on KT ...