Sculpting Stories

I looked at her, with tears flowing down … Seeing her with another man hand in hand … I cannot hold my tears … I cannot see her like this … I cannot let her leave me … I cannot let her leave me! But … I need to … I want her to be happy, and I should do this …   I owe that to her completely even though I had a shitty childhood … Even though I hated myself …   I want to take care of her, I want her to smile, I want her to b...

Another wonderful day in grad school.  I was on my way back to my empty apartment, with papers to grade and some homework to do.   After I crossed the intersection, with just a few hundred feet to go to my place, I passed an old Quonset hut.  It looked pretty plain and unassuming.  I had heard it was owned by the art department but knew nothing else about it.  I had never, in all my weeks of passing the place, seen anyone...

Friday December 9th 1910 A little after 2pm. Paris I step outside into the alleyway. Lifting my head to the dark and cloudy sky, the now heavy snow hits me in the face like tiny needles. It confirms my awareness. The wind forming a sideways funnel of icy flakes in the alley feels good. I was burning up in there, not so much from the stove, but from watching her. The recent turn of events makes me question my sanity. I wal...

Friday December 9th 1910 A little after 6am. Somewhere in Paris... Don't know why I waited until last night to go down to the clay mill. I've known for days that I was low on clay and would need it by today. It's not like I dread digging it and hauling it to my studio or even preparing it. I enjoy it. Just haven’t felt like getting out after hours the past few weeks. I probably made it to bed around 1am last night. Had to...