Gush
Sculpture preparation sketch

 

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sculpture preparation sketches

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Gush

Said the artist:
Come midnight my hand were cut,
My tongue was lost,
The love of humans has eluded me,
My soul was in an airless tempest,
In a whirlpool with no sea,
My spirit was tired.

I was in search of whatever rest,
Peace for my mind,
And I waited.

And there, in the vision of meditation,
I behold my lost hand
Growing, it's fingers
Will soon unfold
And I can hear my words
Talking
To me and to people.

Said the thinker:
There comes a time when what was made is gone, what was said is silent, the inner and outer atmosphere in which you acted becomes strange
The horror and tempest in your country, your homeland and the home of your father are about to snatch your soul forever, and you're carried away, hopeless, to a safety in a strange land. Perhaps in the heights of Tibet, perhaps in the wilderness of India, perhaps in the monasteries in the ends of the earth.
The soul that lost its hand\tongue searches for Nirvana in the east, seeks the silence beyond life. For that, it must give up doing: give up living in the world as it's perceived by Judaism.
But the belly that knows is stronger than the brain that thinks. The hand regrows from the internal world, its fingers become like an ear, ready to detect the noise outside, combining "we shall do" and "we shall hear".


2008
Dimension: 40X45cm
Material: Ceramic
 



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