 And without further ado, we are going to get off the stage so that the things that you are here to see can begin, first of which is a speech by, excuse me, I said a speech and that's probably not the right word, but I do feel like it's a speech because it's Kelly. She's a wonderful and brilliant person. A keynote lecture by Dr. Kelly Jones. To tell you a little bit about Kelly, she's an art historian, a curator, associate professor of art history and archeology, director of undergraduate studies at Columbia University. Her research focuses on African-American and African diaspora artists, Latinx and Latin American artists. She was the curator of, co-curator of witness, art and civil rights in the 1960s, which was here at the Brooklyn Museum in 2014. I think Terry Carbone, her co-curator is here somewhere. And she was recently named a MacArthur Foundation Fellow in 2016. She's written two books, I Minded Living and Writing Contemporary Art and just recently released, like last week. South of Pico, African-American artists in Los Angeles in the 1960s and 1970s. And we're so, so honored to have you here today, Kelly. Please join us. Thank you all. Thanks to Rugeco, to Catherine, to Elizabeth Sackler, making this possible and Pasternak, all of you Brooklyn people, all of the artists first and foremost. So I am going to jump right in here. The title of my talk is called Swimming with EC, which is Elizabeth Catlett. So the talk is, as you would imagine, about Elizabeth Catlett. So here we go. And it's in a few parts. Hope this thing doesn't fall. Okay, T1 in 1971. Early in 1971, artist and gallerist Alonzo Davis found himself driving to Mexico and loading art into his van in Tijuana for a return trip to Los Angeles and to Brockman Gallery. He and his brother Dale Brockman Davis had opened the gallery barely four years earlier as a place to showcase works by African-American artists. After initially presenting group shows, they started offering solos in 1970. The majestic Elizabeth Catlett was most probably the first woman artist they presented in a one woman exhibition. With her reputation and accomplishments, this was certainly a catch for an upstart gallery showing many young and under known artists. The Brockman Gallery show was Elizabeth Catlett's first solo in the US in over two decades. A lot had changed and she presented early work at the Black Own Barnett Aidan Gallery in Washington, DC in 1947, but then a lot hadn't. African-Americans still fought for recognition in the art world, but actions in the 1960s and 70s were changing that. Still, such scattered exhibition histories plagued women artists even as the feminist decade of the 70s came into its own. This was the case with Betty Sarr whose star also began to shine brighter in this period to article after article, which commented on the older ages of successful women artists remarking on their perseverance. As with Sarr, the 1970s became Catlett's breakout decade, buoyed by the actions of the Black Arts Movement and carried by the tide of feminist activism, though Catlett herself was even a generation older than Sarr. While Catlett's return to exhibiting in the US and in the solo format began with Brockman Gallery in 1971, that wasn't the only show she had that year. In fact, an exhibition at Studio Museum in Harlem has dominated Catlett's narrative. Opening at the end of 71 and continuing into 72, it was an expansion of the Brockman show, similarly encompassing prints and sculpture. And if you look at the Studio Museum catalog, you see most of the work is actually from Brockman and was shipped from California. Catlett would have no less than eight solos in the US throughout 1975, along with other African-American focused exhibition spaces, Museum of the National Center of African-American Artists in Boston, Atlanta Center for Black Art, the support of her alma mater, Howard University, and the historically Black College and University Circuit, Fisk University, Southern University, Jackson State College was key. Yet we also find a strong link to the thriving California art scene of the period and to networks of women. Scripps College in Claremont, California was one site where Samela Lewis, a former student of Catlett's, taught and was the perch from which she created, thank you, all manner of exhibitions, films, and publications. Further north, another solo opened at Berkeley's Rainbow Sign Gallery where E.J. Montgomery was in charge. With all the effort it took to get these works to the US and on view after two decades, it's not surprising that Catlett set her prices at a point to encourage their sale. Indeed, all the pieces would remain in the US. It is undoubtedly from this moment that major works that have now come to narrate our understanding of the 60s and 70s entered the US and entered the art historical narrative, including the three earliest works by Catlett in We Wanted a Revolution, Homage to My Young Black Sisters of 68, Malcolm X, Speaks for Us of 69, and Target 1970. Though Catlett resided in Mexico for most of her adult life, in the late 60s inspired by black activism of the period, she began to focus the themes of her work on the African-American activist body. Although the artist has noted that she reserved her print production for the exploration of political themes and that her sculptural work was dedicated to investigating form, these decisions changed somewhat at that moment as she began to focus on events in her birthplace. In sculptures from this time, Catlett meshes her understanding of the needs of form with that of political efficacy, and as with Catlett's sculpture throughout her career, these ideas are narrated predominantly through the figure of the black woman. Homage to My Young Black Sisters is an excellent example of Catlett's genius in marshaling representational aims through figures that are highly abstracted. The verticality and strength of the body is emphasized by a fist shot straight up, the very pinnacle of the sculpture. As in the majority of Catlett's sculpted women, an abstracted skirt, broad hips, and ample breasts signify the femaleness of her content. Adept in an imagining figures in clay, stone, and wood, Homage is crafted from cedar, and as with most of her wood pieces, burnished to bring out the beauty of the grain, the sensuousness of the material. As Melanie Herzog has argued, the central opening in the piece signals fecundity, womb-like or egg-shaped, but also the core energy force of all beings. The political message of Catlett's work is borne by several sculptures of the black female form during this period, including the stunning political prisoner, now at the Schaumburg, whose torso becomes the flag of black liberation. Let me see that on the right. In this moment, in the 70s, Elizabeth Catlett stepped into her role as the reigning queen of the black arts movement. For Catlett, art in the late 20th century was about liberation, survival, and communication, using creative methods that, as she has noted, helped me make my message clearer. As she would do throughout her career, Catlett framed her audience as the everyday working class, the majority of hardworking people worldwide to whom artists were in service. Several works during this period explore the violence visited on black bodies, referencing current aspects of daily life and state suppression as people battled for civil and human rights that had become the law of the land. Target is a concise statement on this situation in which the artist crafts a black male head in bronze, the sight of a rifle hovering before his face. However, Catlett never relinquished her feminist perspective. For instance, the hand-colored lithograph, the torture of mothers from the same year views an incident akin to that of Target from literally inside the mind of a woman imagining the potential death of her son. In the line of cut, Malcolm X speaks for us, women and girls frame the radical's face providing a feminist context for his activism. Throughout her career, Catlett addressed such issues in her copious objects but also through her intellectual acuity that was on view in significant articles she published over the years. In writings from the 60s and 70s, we see Catlett, like so many others in this period, thinking about the role of black artists in their art. What should their priorities be? What part did form and content play? Catlett was also copacious in her understanding of what art could be. Writing in 1975, she proposed that art does not need revolution as its subject in order to be revolutionary. Up to now it has had little effect on political or social revolution. It will not create authentic social change but it can provoke thought and prepare us for change even helping in its achievement. For art can tell us what we do not see consciously, what we may not realize and that there are other ways of seeing things. Catlett reminded us that blackness was also part of the larger world, something she learned from residing in a place just outside US borders, something she came to know by adopting a home place and creating a family in Mexico. We thus recall not only the proximity of Mexico but also its significance in African American history as a place of refuge and imagination and as part of an important transnational network. As a bilingual and bicultural artist at the opening of the 60s, Catlett encouraged black artists to broaden our horizons. Along with reaching out to Latino populations and the feminist movement within the US, African Americans should seek common ground around the globe. And here she's, I'm quoting her again. Culture can be a beginning for our involvement with other peoples who share with us racial or national discrimination and exploitation by a common enemy. Today it is difficult to wrap ourselves in blackness ignoring the rest of exploited humanity for we are an integral part of it. Blackness is important as a part of this struggle. It is our part, but this struggle is not only of blacks in the US, Africa in the Caribbean, but of Chicanos and Puerto Ricans in the US and the peoples of Asia and Latin America exemplified at this moment by the Chileans in Vietnamese. And such a perspective was formed from living in Mexico for decades, seeing Mexico's socially available mural movement up close and understanding that it went hand in hand with a tradition of radical graphics. Mexico City, 1947. In a testament to the power of women and the tenacity and focus of willing a creative career into existence, in 1946, 47, Elizabeth Catlett accomplished the following. After less than a year in Mexico, she returned to Washington DC and got a divorce. She married for a second time to a feminist, Francesco Mora, eight years her junior. Gave birth to her first child, had a solo show in Washington DC's Barna Aidan Gallery and returned to Mexico. For much of the next decade, while her children were young, she focused on printmaking. Like another Betty, Betty Sarr, she found the print medium more user-friendly with babies underfoot. She also worked collectively finding support in the renowned Taller de Grafica Popular, popular graphic workshop, or TGP. From its founding in the 30s, like Mexico's more well-known mural movement, TGP had, as its goal, making art available to the country's citizens. As part of the nation's institutional revolution, TGP created things that supported people's lives, posters for literacy, fliers for workers, et cetera. The workshop attracted people from all over the world who came to participate and study, including Catlett in 1946. She found facilities to work and thrive with the sustenance of the collective in weekly meetings, critiques, shared projects, and mission. Through TGP, she learned the importance of political narrative joined with form. She discovered that she wanted to direct her art, quote, towards the main mass of people, unquote. Like Tsar, who moved to a broader assemblage practice once her children were older, Catlett returned to sculpture when her youngest son entered kindergarten. To her practice when her youngest son entered kindergarten. Yet Catlett's themes remain remarkably consistent over time. Celebrations of women, their power, their politics, their bodies, the bond with their children. Rarely created from models, her technique learned from art educator Victor Lohanfeld while in residence at Hampton University in the early 40s, involved imagining structure from inside her own body. How did this movement pose angle feel from the interiors of her own being? Catlett's sculpture from the 50s and 60s is replete with such elegant and vibrant figures. A bronze figure, 1961, a seated woman, 1962, and Muher, 1964, both in mahogany, all signal the embodiment of women with ample hips and bosoms. And Catlett's signature spiraling and draped skirt that emphasizes the lower regions but also gives the figures a gracious femininity. Clothing for Catlett here is mere suggestion, allowing her to focus on the contours of the body without creating a nude. For, given the vulnerability and exploitation of black bodies throughout history, nakedness continued to be a conflicted subject in the art of African-Americans. And that's one of the kind of amazing parts about her as she walks this line. I'm going to skip my little exploration of these two just showing the difference between an earlier piece 1940 with rounded figures in here, a later piece from 1956 about where you see a more angular view. So just to see how she brought those into being and actually seeing, actually that piece is from what, 1956, 1959, to show those things and then showing how this is really going back to what she started to do earlier, some for earliest work and you see on the left, Pensive from 1946 and Mother and Child, this is her earliest work, it was her thesis show work and we'll get back to that in a minute but just showing how she's starting with these scenes very, very early on. While imagining a body that bespeaks African-American history and heritage, the artist also thought about the people of her adopted home. They appear in both her own prints and those created with the collective of TGP and show up in sculpture too. If pieces such as figures, seated woman and mujer reference a black female body, others such as the seated reboso of 1957 and the bust reboso of 1968, both in limestone, developed an iconic Mexican and perhaps specifically indigenous feminine profile, these appear slightly more abstract than her other figures and with the shawl like reboso more clearly enveloping rather than emphasizing bodily curves. Draping though continues to play a significant role. Catlett returned to the US only once per decade during this period, visiting in 54 and again in 61, her commitment to raising three small children, the financial and other tests of transcontinental travel and eventually her responsibilities as a professor and chair of sculpture at the Escuela Nacional de Artes Plásticas at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma in Mexico made such trips an understandable challenge. But there was also Cold War politics. McCarthyism reached across the borders into Mexico and the Mexican government took a more conservative turn. Catlett was harassed by US authorities during the 50s. This built to a terrifying pitch in 1959 when one night, home alone with her children, she was spirited away to jail as a foreign agitator. Given the state of affairs, Catlett eventually became a Mexican citizen in 1962. However, she was then prevented from returning to the US for a decade labeled an undesirable alien in the country of her birth. In Mexico, Catlett had her first solo in 1962, a mix of sculpture and various media and prints that would continue to characterize her one-woman shows. Several years later, another exhibition featured more monumental works, the result of greater studio space afforded by her position as a university professor. Held in Mexico City's Museo del Arte Moleno in 1970, Experiencia Negra, or Black Experience, foregrounded a politicized black experience in images such as Malcolm X speaks for us, homage to the Panthers, as well as historical icons such as Phyllis Wheatley. For Catlett, the display demonstrated to a Mexican public the range of African-American experience, both historical and present day. She created what she understood as a total experience by having jazz played throughout the installation and attending the opening in the African finery. But the content and the emphasis of Experiencia Negra led to Catlett's many solos in the US in the first half of the 70s. She was finally let back into the land of her birth in 1971 for her New York Museum opening, but only after vigorous work on her behalf by the Studio Museum in Harlem, director Ed Spriggs, writer Elton Fax, and artist Romare Bearden, and when she had provided a detailed itinerary. As she would recount to critic Raquel de Bol in the pages of the Mexican Daily Excelsior, it's true from the legal point of view that I'm a Mexican citizen, but how will some counsel, some ambassador, some bureaucrat, some president be able to erase the color of my blood, erase my 20-some years of life as a black citizen of the United States where I went to segregated schools, where I traveled in the back of the bus reserved for blacks, where I sat in stations and theaters and restaurants in a section that said, Negroes only. Once she became a Mexican citizen, Catlett raised her political profile once again. In 1963, she traveled to Cuba as part of the Mexican delegation to the Congress of Women in the Americas. Inspired by Cuba's emergent socialism, she created the line of education in Cuba that you see on the screen, celebrating the island nation's commitment to racial and educational social equity. She organized the Comité Mexicano Profesional de Solidaridad con Angela Davis in 1969. Angela Davis' support committee, part of the worldwide movement adjecting against the militant thinkers unjust imprisonment. Along with creating and translating documents, Catlett made posters and flyers in the tradition of TGP. Catlett's monumental polychrome cedar political prisoner certainly speaks to her work on behalf of Angela Davis, who was freed in 1972. Washington, D.C., 1935. Born in 1915 and raised in the nation's capital, Elizabeth Catlett's activism had begun in high school when she took part in an anti-lynching campaign protesting in front of the Supreme Court building with a noose around her neck. As was the pattern with so many African-American artists in the first part of the 20th century, Catlett was admitted to the Carnegie Institute of Technology, now Carnegie Mellon University, for college, only to be rejected because of her race when she showed up at the entrance exam. Heading instead to a hometown institution of Howard University, Catlett entered what would be a mecca of the black artistic world of the moment, especially when it came to the training of young artists. James Herring had set up the art department in 1921 and opened the Howard University Art Gallery in 1930, the first such institution of its kind at a historically black college or university. James A. Porter, a graduate of the department, began teaching at Howard in 1927. In 1943, who had published Modern Negro Art, one of the first comprehensive studies of African-American artists. Elaine Locke, Illuminary of the Harlem Renaissance, who was also involved in many curatorial projects, had taught there since 1912. And then there was printmaker James Lissane Wells and designer and painter Lois Maylou-Jones. Elizabeth Catlett continued her activism in college, participating in actions against war and fascism as part of Howard's liberal club and with the National Student League. Graduating cum laude in 1935, Catlett moved to North Carolina where she did elementary and secondary school teaching in order to save money for graduate school. University of Iowa had a reputation for accepting African-American students. She recalls her warm welcome by others when she disembarked from the train in Iowa City in 1937, how they helped her navigate the terrain, including finding a place in a black rooming house since they were not allowed to live in campus dorms. Catlett eventually roomed with Margaret Walker, a student in creative writing whose poetry would shortly energize the Chicago Renaissance. Decades later, both Carnegie Mellon and University of Iowa would apologize to Catlett for their discriminatory practices, offering honorary degrees, buying and commissioning art, creating scholarships, and even a residence hall in her name. This is Catlett Hall at the bottom of the screen which will be opening at the University of Iowa in fall 17. UI played an important role in mapping American art at that moment. Modern and European abstract tendencies were championed by art department chair Lester Longman. It was also a site for the Public Works of Art Program, the precursor to the WPA, and the related regionalist style represented in the presence of Grant Wood who drew her to Iowa. In 1940, Catlett became the first person, let me repeat, in 1940, Catlett became the first person in the U.S. to receive the MFA degree. Okay. Okay. Okay. Incredible. Upon receiving her graduate degree, she headed to New Orleans where she assumed the chair of the art department of the historically black Dillard University. After her first teaching year, she spent the summer of 1941 in Chicago connecting with that milieu which would be known as the Chicago Renaissance. This movement inspired by social realist style and leftist politics shared a profound faith and the capacity of cultural work to leverage transformations in the social and political sphere on behalf of America's poor and working classes. Catlett extended her studies at working at the Art Institute of Chicago and did printmaking at the newly opened Southside Community Art Center, a fulcrum for the black arts community, including Margaret Burroughs, Elzier Corteur, Charles Siebrey, and painter Charles White, who she would marry later that year. Catlett returned to Dillard with White, and they would leave though at the end of the academic year after learning of a new mandate for summer teaching. However, it would not be unimaginable that they also found the teaching environment in the South so restrictive as to be untenable. One of Catlett's most visible students from her time at Dillard was Smela Lewis, a native of New Orleans. Lewis found in Catlett an uncompromising champion of black equity and artists. As Lewis would later write, for Dillard students, Elizabeth Catlett was a commanding and fascinating individual. She stood up to everybody and involved herself in affairs that were unpopular at that time for both blacks and women. She confronted police on brutality, bus drivers on segregating seating, and college administrators on curriculum. Indeed, as Catlett herself would frame it, an incident at Dillard would have significant impact on the art she would make going forward. Late in the fall of 1941, and here I quote, when a retrospected exhibition of Picasso's paintings, including the Guernica mural, came to New Orleans Delgado Art Museum, now the New Orleans Museum of Art, I decided to take the 130 young black men and women in my art history class to see it. But the museum was closed to us because it was in City Park, where blacks were not permitted. Though through a friend, I arranged a visit for us on Monday when the museum was closed and we were bused in. The students were excited and fascinated by the paintings. They ran from room to room, exclaiming, calling to one another, uninhibitedly enjoying these strange paintings with glowing color. No one was bored, no one had ever been to an art museum before, end quote. Indeed, Mellow Lewis was one of those students. Lewis would follow Catlett to Hampton University, where she was in residence in 1943, and they would work together, including on, they would collaborate over their lifetimes, including on the very first issue of Lewis's Black Artisan Art. No, her Black Artisan Art, which is a book, she was included in that, but also she was on the very first issue of Black Art and International Quarterly, first published in 1976, which you see here. And Lewis would write a monograph on Catlett in 84, publishing it under her own imprint, Handcraft Studios. Newlywood's Catlett and White landed in New York in the summer of 42, where they sublet the apartment of opera singer and actor, Kenneth Lee Spencer. His address at 409 Edgecomb Avenue thrust them into the heart of New York's creative world. Over the years, the building was home to the innovations of Duke Ellington, W.E.B. to Boys, others like Thurgood Marshall and Ralph Bunch, and of course, they came in contact with a community of painters like Charles Austin, Aaron Douglas, Norman Lewis, Jacob and Glen Dylan Lawrence, and writers such as Anne Petrie. As in Chicago, New York was the site of African-American leftist networks. From the 1920s to the 50s, Catlett jumped right in. She joined the Arts Committee of the National Negro Congress and devoted teaching time to serving at schools run by the Communist Party USA for working people, including the Greenwich Village Jefferson School and the Harlem's George Washington Carver School. In continuing to see black women, their beauty, intellects and bodies as a source of inspiration and as a major thematic through which to narrate an art practice and navigate the world, Catlett found incredible support in New York City at mid-century. Scholars Mary Helen Washington and Eric S. McDuffie have unpacked the discourse of black left feminism developing during that time, nurtured in part by the Communist Party and popular front circles. It was a standpoint that placed working class black women at the center of social struggle in ways that spoke to the intersectionality of race, class, gender, and ultimately transnational discourse. All of these thinkers were part of Elizabeth Catlett's New York Milia. Beginning with her days as an organizer with the Southern Use Congress in the 1940s and membership in the CPUSA, Esther Cooper Jackson was important in black leftist circles into the 80s as the managing editor of the journal Freedom Ways. Jackson included Catlett's 1961 article, The Negro People in American Art in the journal's inaugural issue. There were also among the numerous black women publicly and unceasingly harassed by McCarthyism and in ways that honorously involved women and their children. It was in her MSMA thesis in Sociology from Fisk in 1940 where Cooper Jackson initially presented her major thoughts on the role of black working women as vanguard whose position in the larger society was a true gauge of democracy. In The Negro Woman Domestic Worker, she focused on efforts of these workers to organize a union. This allowed her to examine pitiable working conditions for black women in the US. Included was a discussion of the horrors of the so-called Bronx slave market where girls are shipped up in car loads from the South to stand on corners waiting for work for 25 to 35 cents per hour as domestic day laborers. Cooper Jackson's thesis anticipated the work of Claudia Jones, the renowned CPUSA leader whose article and end to the neglect of the problems of The Negro Woman in 1949 had significant impact. Jones refashioned the Marxist-Leninist concept of super exploitation to account for black women's uniquely severe, persistent and dehumanizing forms of capitalist exploitation. In this political economy, black women's labor is assumed. It is there to service the entire society for the lowest return. However, as the triply oppressed by race, sex and class, black women were the true vanguards of world transformation. Journalism became an important site where black feminists could bring their ideas to the world. Marvell Cook was one such journalist, now perhaps best known for her exposés on the Bronx slave market where she went undercover as a maid for hire, getting her story from the women who waited on corners and potential employers alike. She was the first woman to write for the Amsterdam News, publishing on cultural topics, including visual art as well. Cook was also Catlett's downstairs neighbor at 409 Edgecomb and an early collector. Catlett and Cook would come together again to work on the free Angela Davis committee on which Cook held a prominent position. Though completed at Taillere Grafica Popular between 1946 and 47, the same year, of course, when she was doing all those other things that I mentioned, Catlett began her important Negro woman series in New York energized by an activism that was black and feminist. The work is epic in its historical breadth but accomplished through a series of line-up cuts hardly larger than eight by 10 inches. The serial format is reminiscent of that used by Jacob Lawrence for a 60 gouache panel, Migration of the Negro, 1940-41. Catlett's 15 line-up cuts also rely on text, beginning with the tightly framed portrait, I am the Negro woman. However, her first-person narrative creates a different mood from Lawrence's almost omniscient observer, engaging viewers as participants in a more intimate fashion. They picture for Catlett the working people who she willingly served with her practice. As with Lawrence's Migration, the Negro woman series has a specific order determined by text, and I'll run through it here. I am the Negro woman. I am the Negro woman. I have always worked hard in America, in the fields, in other folks' homes. I have given the world my songs. In Sojourner Truth, I fought through the rights of women as well as Negroes. In Harriet Tubman, I helped thousands to freedom. In Phyllis Wheatley, I proved intellectual equality in the midst of slavery. My role has been important in the struggle to organize the unorganized. I have studied in ever-increasing numbers. My reward has been bars between me and the rest of the land. I have special reservations, special houses, and a special fear for my loved ones. My right is of future equality with other Americans. Catlett's imaging of black female labor here is in direct dialogue with her friends, Esther Cooper Jackson and Mar-Vell Cook, as well as other black feminists who were a part of New York's radical communities in the 1940s. One of Catlett's first prints completed in Mexico, domestic worker that you see on the screen, 1946, engages this theme as well. Her sheroes are also present. Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Phyllis Wheatley, our figures Catlett would reimagine over the years and in a variety of media. Pieces such as Harriet 1975 and Madonna 1982 featured in We Wanted a Revolution are indicative of how Catlett conceived of some of her signature themes anew. Over the years, scholars have read the contemporary feminist movement in the US and rights movements at the end of the 20th century generally as building on the successes of the civil rights struggles of the 50s. However, more recent scholarship sees early 20th century black left feminism as setting the stage for the more visible feminist work of the 70s. Indeed, women like Cooper Jackson and Cook would continue to be active in the 1970s and beyond mentoring the second wave feminist generation through her sculpture in prints. Catlett would do the same. And I just want to end by explaining my title somewhat swimming with Elizabeth Catlett. Swimming was Catlett's sport. She talks about it a lot in her interviews. And I thought that was wonderful because she was trained as a lifeguard. You're talking about, this is early part of the 20th century. And it's good because it talks, I think about her jumping in the idea of the sensuality of the body and the water, feeling the power of the body. But also, we have to remember it was part of fighting segregation, right? Pools were segregated spaces, right? You couldn't just go in as a black person because you're naked with white people. That would be a problem, right? So she desegregated pools in North Carolina and in Iowa. And so I want to think about, as I go forward with this, turning this into an essay, to think about the body and its haptic power, thinking about people who've recently written about this, such as Tina Camp, and thinking about touch in Elizabeth Catlett's work and how that is what she allows us to do. So thank you.