When I was last at Arthur’s Studio his table hosted an army of half formed figures in clay. Each one I examined offered a face or limb of exquisite detail emerging from the clay lumps and blobs. The beauty of the protrusions was devastating. “Have you ever finished one of these?” I marveled. “Never!” crowed Arthur, “Finish and Die!” Being accustomed to his outbursts, I smiled, preparing my debate, but became distracted by his arrangement of the figures.
A goodly number of hands and arms had gathered in a semicircle near a corner of the table all stretching toward and almost touching a central lump of mud. Though it was much larger than they, it held no detail I could discern. I couldn’t decide if the arms were attacking or worshiping the lump. Their desire to lay hold was palpable. From here my eye was drawn to another gathering near the center of the table.
This is the beginning. To read the rest go to my artist's statement.