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No man
can ever start anew completely;
he's everything he's ever done or said or failed to do. Each bit is added on, Altering the whole, But covering, not replacing what has gone before. A piece of unfired clay, he bears the marks and scars of all his years. Not just clay, though-- sculptor, too; he helps to mold himself: Objects, artist, audience. Sometimes, though, larger hands-- destiny, fate, karma, God-- take firmly hold and, wielding fierce events, risk fracture to hack and carve away some awkward, ugly bits. The final work cannot be seen until it's fired, and all fires cooled. Paul knew:
suffering and pain |
Copyright
© 1999 Terry Anderson |
