The Water Horses Sculpture
The Water Horses Sculpture
35 years in the making- Part one
35 years ago at the Saratoga training track, I dragged a blue tarp puffed with horse apples.
Calloused hands, impish grin, Bowie hair and aire. My future first husband appeared, offering to help.
Later,
he pulled the plaster casting of the sculpture “A Fallen Tear” out from inside his biker jacket.
I slid my skeleton horse drawing out from a paper bag.
We exchanged our art treasures, hoping the other would "get it".
His line cut sensual.
(wetting the oil clay with a brush. Smoothing.)
My ink weaved.
Our art clicked.
17 years of marriage,
we carry sketchbooks.
Clumps of oil clay shaped as horses damaged by our moves.
Yet, non-drying it holds our touch and debris.
Stroking, shaping our hopes—sketches and clay become
bronze sculptures.
Some clumps still wait to become metal.
We are artists and like art
we are in progress.
It has taken 35 years—
This would be a peak of human purpose: “Our art clicked.”