Vulnerability

My sculpture of Samson came about without any specific intent in the beginning. I began by creating a pained male figure, contemplating something within his hands. I wanted him to look powerful, yet alone. I finished building the figure before I was to discover what he was to become.

I was inspired by 17th century baroque sculptures. Their faces and forms have an expressive, almost mannerist quality. An obvious example of this would be Bernini’s quixotic sculpture, The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Her supremely expressive visage conveys an almost palpable sense of immense pleasure.

The Spanish also sculpted many expressive and vivid portraits. Life size figures with a level of realism that is seldom displayed in sculpture.

Realism isn’t always a goal of mine, but I do wish to create a countenance that stirs empathy. I wanted this figure to have flesh that seemed tangible. So I gave him a pale forehead, one that looked feverish, lurid eyes and full hanging lips. I wanted the viewer to feel that if they reached out and held their hands to his cheek he would feel it and respond to the warmth of their fingertips.

I was somehow reminded of the story of Samson and Delilah. I had a vague recollection of the story which was taught to me growing up as a Biblical lesson. Samson, I remembered, was given the gift of immense strength so that he may serve the Lord. His power would remain if he did not cut his hair, and therefore he must keep the source of his strength a secret. He was foolishly seduced by Delilah, and for this woman he disobeyed God and told her this sacred secret. He was punished greatly for his disobedience. Samson had a great gift bestowed upon him, and threw it away because of his lust. As a young girl I suppose this made sense, but as an adult I tried to imagine why Samson would give up such a gift.

To brush up on this tale, a few friends and I held kind of a Bible study and worked together to divine the meaning. (Truly it was the most entertaining Bible study I had ever attended.) In the version we read I think that Samson was married to Delilah. Samson was murdering the Philistine people for God, and as you might expect, the Philistines wanted Samson dead. Delilah was given money to betray Samson. She threatened to distrust his love if he did not reveal the secret to his powers. He lied and said, "If anyone ties me with seven fresh thongs that have not been dried, I will become as weak as any other man." That night he was attacked in this manner. This happened several more times, and each time Delilah said that if he truly loved her he would tell the truth. Samson, who was obviously desperately in love with this woman, eventually revealed the truth to her. He was then attacked, his hair was cut, his hands were bound and had his eyes gouged out.

In the story, Samson knew that Delilah had betrayed him before he ever gave up his secret. Samson willful sacrificed himself to a woman who would see him killed. He let her bind him and destroy him so that he might prove his love for her. He must have had an immense desire to share his secret, at any cost.

Samson effectively wields this scissors himself, makes himself bleed, creates his own demise for the pleasure of another. I don't view his character as foolish, or wicked but as a man whose desperation, loneliness and devotion are his greatest weaknesses.

Famous Blue Raincoat

Leonard Cohen has long been a source of inspiration for me. His words and his voice have a richness that only comes from years of effort and layers of meaning and sound. One of my favorite songs that he has written is Famous Blue Raincoat.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&v=7pXBisteRms&NR=1

It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake --

She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear --

Sincerely, L. Cohen

For me, it is not the melody that strikes me so much about Leonard Cohen’s songs as much as particular lyrics and the way they are sung, always slowly and with sincerity.

One common theme in my art is the idea of social boundaries. Things that hold us back. Psychological and social pressures that are as strong and implacable as iron.

In Famous Blue Raincoat he sings nostalgically of a woman whom he once knew, that has resurfaced in his life. He is thinking of her at four in the morning. She has aged and worn, like everyone does, but still holds the same life. It is not this woman, but how he speaks of his own wife which interests me. He sings, “And you treated my woman to a flake of your life, And when she came back she was nobody's wife.” They are melancholy lyrics. It is no wonder he is thinking of this woman so early in the morning. He has had presumably years to affect and influence his own wife, and this woman changes her in a single night, or day or maybe an instance. Later in the song he sings the words, “Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes, I thought it was there for good so I never tried.” I think it is remarkable, the idea of a man realizing this alteration in his woman, this new freedom. Freedom from what? From trouble? From restraint? I can’t really tell. It is interesting that he would feel gratitude and relief even though the change would be a great sacrifice. What has changed? Nothing had changed in the way of titles or roles. She was granted absolution from some sort of mental responsibility, and he lost something even more abstract.

I relate to this song. Most of you know that I require a certain level of freedom. I need the liberty to work and to think. I sometimes feel like I want to abandon all life, to run away from my job, and from family, from friends and responsibility. I want to climb and run and hide high up in the mountains like Zarathustra, in the hope that I would have the time to discover some kind of knowledge, something unique and incredible to share with the world. But of course, those kinds of ideas are not hidden up in mountains. They can only be forged from life’s experiences, from human interaction. Besides I likely would end up like Zarathustra, running through crowds shouting out riddles that no other soul would comprehend.

For what it is worth, I am grateful for the sacrifices that others have made for me. I am fortunate that I am sometimes allowed time for mental emancipation and the ability to create. That small flake of freedom means the world to me.