Bill +

[abknight@zzzzzz]

The fact that Art
has not dared to consider the
obvious...

Hey Clive, you funny guy, why, how has "Art" not dared?
And what is so obvious?  Doesn't "Art" do about everything
under the sun?

Just which sins are you impuning to my kind?  What have we
been so ignorant of.  I shudder to imagine it.

By the way, your work is sexy.  I think it's your mind.
You dare, on the face of wild stone, imprint illusions of
capture, of memory.  The stone is wild, yet my heart looks
for itself in its facets.  Like looking out at tree in the
morning sun dazing sharp shadows on every crest, and all
the while aching for a love impossibly remote.  It is
ultra romantic.  It is a suggestion of longing and memory.
 Of dreams so near but o so impossible.  The carved face
hails out even as it recedes into the natural chaos of
stone.  Calling yet receding.  I am blinded Nydia in the
woods, listening and listening to find my way*.

Bill

*
In a tensely dramatic scene inspired by a
nineteenth-century British novel, Nydia, a blind flower
seller, struggles forward to escape the dark volcanic ash
and debris of Mount Vesuvius as it erupts and buries the
ancient city of Pompeii. Clutching her staff and cupping
hand to ear, she strains for sounds of Glaucus (a nobleman
with whom she has fallen desperately in love) and his
fiancée Ione. Accustomed to darkness, blind Nydia uses her
acute hearing to find the two, leading them to safety at
the shore; but in the end, despairing of the impossibility
of her love, she drowns herself.
This modern historical fiction that harks back to the
setting of ancient times echoes Clive's method plundering
of the past in a way I find startling.
http://www.nga.gov/collection/sculpture/noflash/zone5-2.htm
Nydia is also the goddess of the dwelling or home.  In
today's parlance a nidus is a nest.

Bill