Everything you can imagine is real. –Pablo Picasso
Writing Prompt page 102: What is revealed on my white canvas? What would be chipped away from a huge block of marble if I were a persevering, talented sculptor?
In my mind’s eyes there is a big block of marble in front of me and I am laying out the tools of this trade. This trade that I don’t know. This trade who’s tools I am not familiar with. But what I do know is the job ahead of me is to take the block of marble and to cut it down, sculpt it, make it look less like what it is today and more like what it will be when I am done.
The cutting away.
If I took the tools in hand would I, could I, make the sculpture look like me as I am today? Would I start by rounding it’s edges? Giving it curves? Giving it wideness where there could be more narrowness? Giving it hard edges where they could be softer? Would I add the knicks and dents that I feel in my person as I walk around in the body I inhabit this day?
If I took the tools in hand would I, could I, chisel the stone into a resemblance of the person I see myself to be in my future. In my dreams perhaps. Would she have warmth in her eyes where today mine offer chill? Would she have muscles where today I have none? Would she be softer, kinder, sweeter? Would her final form be one that proved and puts on the display the power of a woman who knows how to live with all of her emotions? The good…joy, happiness, elation, grace, ecstasy. The bad…anger, sorrow, fear, lust, and jealousy.
I’d actually settle for the former as we work towards the latter. Both versions are valuable. Both add rather than take away to this world. Both belong here…have a right to be here…are in their right time and place.
Today…this very day…I pick up the tools and say yes, to making a sculpture as I am this day. Stepping back. Seeing the flaws. The impossibilities. The foibles. The imperfections. And seeing what is there, the starting point, and deciding that it is good. She is good.