Monday, January 02, 2006
What do I do out there that's really new? I make a block of sand and carve it. I make holes, I make shapes. None of it is new. Shapes come from here and there, all having been done before, designs dredged up from subcoscious memories.
But there is something there. Mercy saw it all those years ago. What transforms pedestrian sand into something that stops people in their tracks? Mercy knew it. I tried to ignore it, but I can't any more.
I've not done a sculpture since mid-September. I have the tools, I have the sand, I have the experience and the memories, but I no longer have the balance. The hidden love that held my own grains together is gone, bashed away, forced to run by a relentless attack. The only reason I'm still here is that the Holy Spirit keeps me from falling into utter self-destruction. I admire his spirit, his tenacity.
You have a lot to say. Your sculptures and photos speak to me, to others. You think it's not new, but the scriptures have been around for thousands of years. They are not new, but they speak anew to someone specifically at the time they need it. So it is with your work. It speaks His words, through your hands.