Monday, March 7, 2011


A bitterly cold morning but at least the sun came out to play and no new snow lay on the ground. Another day in the studio where elements of the sculpture fall into place while others fall to waste. The sun goes the snow comes, the snow comes the sun shines and then sometimes both at once.

A simple routine of walking down the familiar path to and from the studio; home to eat and sleep to the studio to work. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of myself and think how strange it is. There is a place where I can understand what is being said. The familiar faces I see every day will one day be only a memory. Where saying "hello" will not be saying "buna". That I am not a local.

But as I was working in the studio today a kind older gentleman came to the door. I assumed him to be a curious wanderer until he produced a pair of pliers with a broken handle, the fracture nicely dressed for a weld; I quickly laid a puddle of molten medal in the seam. It was one of the few times I have been able to say you're welcome, although maybe I should have said thank you....

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