The Sculptor

Thank you dear Mich for the honour to post on your beautifully encouraging blog: I can think of no other piece more apt to start with to share to keep to the essence of what you treasure in life, and convey so wonderfully in your writing:

‘Set in stone, a life dreamed up from dust.
Into the sun we drift along, hearts splashed upon as brushstrokes touch a canvas.

In our haste to chase the day, with glimpses of our time, the picture still forms in us, to lead where we belong

And randomly in moments, we sense from all we are, that by our steps we follow

We, more of stone then brush-washed hue, demand a sculptors artistry our existence imbue, so formlessness compose.’

Creative Commons License ~IW~

Zimbabwe Sculptor - by Belinda Borradaile: +- A2 - Poster paint on cardboard.

‘Zimbabwe Sculptor’ – by Idiot Writer +- A2 – Poster paint on cardboard.

Two of my ‘loves’: Painting and Sculpting – the latter of which I have not done in  some time due to practicality and lack of materials. I have vivid memories of sitting sculpting a small piece of soapstone spared me by the wonderful Stone Sculptors in Zimbabwe…and at times I would just sit and paint them on a spare piece of cardboard.

There is something unique in  chiseling away with a screw driver and a hammer to reveal something wonderful beneath the surface, to polish and shine up with oils and fire – so in contrast to the adding to’ or building up of most artworks.

It is somehow very freeing and liberating to have all surplus removed to form something stunning.

For now – we write.

~IW~ From – Idiot Writing



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