He was an artisan, made famous by his sculpting in particular. He was said to be a prophet of the aesthetic, for there was no rock or stone or wood he could not turn into a thing of beauty. What was even more curious about his work was that it seemed as if his hands sculpted life into his media.
He worshipped beauty, and it was his quest to sculpt what to him was divine. Men from far and wide came to commission him to sculpt their Gods and Goddesses and he obliged. Even the leaders of the land came to him with expensive gifts so that he’d sculpt them. His perception of beauty earned him many powerful enemies. He earned a price over his head for rejecting many commissions.
Eventually, the artisan took his tools and climbed a mountain to live the rest of his days alone with his art. He was set out to create the embodiment of beauty, and in his loneliness, he fashioned it to be a woman. When there was nothing more to perfect, he kissed the lips of the statue, happy that his life’s work was done. Then he walked away and was never heard of again.
To this day, Galatea waits on the mountain, covered in ivy and wildflowers.
-October 22, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment