Sculpture Stories

Pygmalion hid himself from the lustful nature of women littering Cyprus… …and instead carved a virgin in ivory to match his expectations of a woman. ~oOo~ He outlined her form with a copper chisel and a steady mind, but when it came time for the details, his inner desires crept from the crevices. The most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen was taking shape before him. As he tenderly cupped her freshly chiseled face, h...

In the lobby, there was a map where alumni from out of town placed thumbtacks to indicate how far they had come to the reunion. Only a handful were out of the state. With his stuck in San Francisco, Jerry thought he had a good chance to win. When he saw a woman put a tack in the same area, he was intrigued and moved toward her. He didn’t recognize her when she turned around. Attractive and well-dressed in a conservative s...

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...

Except for her hypnotic performance, everything around him was fading. Spotlights dimmed. Shapes blurred. His senses were commandeered by the ferocious throb threatening to burst his strained Burberry flat fronts. Somewhere at the other end of the main gallery, his wife would be mingling amongst semi-circled acolytes accessorized with flutes of half-drunk Lyme Bay, joining in buzzed homage to the controversially explicit...

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...