Sculpture. I still do it.

I was beset with a bad case of sloth this last winter. It has been hard to put a handle on it, in that I am usually a ball of fire, a cool fire some might say, but still I used to have motion that was detectable. As a result of this affliction, I spent an inordinate amount of time away from what might be referred to as work.

Now this is not thought of as a bad thing for someone my age, but I still have inclinations of being someone in the art world. Plus, there are still a few souls out there that think I am someone, an artist of merit so they would say. These are galleries and the big buyer from the east.

Turns out, I had contracted some maladies, maladies that I think were valid. I have one of those metal hips that was recalled and mine started to render pain. In addition, other joints like my trick knees and discolored ankles also took on some meaningful discomfort, all of this generating a malaise of sorts. I became sloth like.



But after a real nice, and large injection of cortisone into my knee, a 30 day round of antibiotics for Lymes disease, and acceptance that a two pound hunk of titanium will have some lingering twinges and spring, I rebounded to be the jackass I am today, that would be an artist, a legend in my own mind.

So fitting to a person of sound mind, I have again made sculpture and feeling better for it. This one is called Ann Louise named after my charming wife, the person I sleep with. It is larger than previous works of the same name. Most interestingly, I deliberately made it to look like a young Ann Herzog Wright by using a photo I took many years ago while running wild in Death Valley. She was an innocent thing, a child I suppose, a bit of a nymph and only now have I attempted to bring a bit of that back. I feel comfortable for it and the sloth is gone like the hot wind drifting over the desserts of our wild west.