Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Love note to my sculpture studio.

Tonight is the empty kind of night. It's cold. The cement is wet. Even the wind feels wet. Is that a minivan approaching or is that the wind?

This studio was where I spent countless afternoons, evenings, and late, late nights. There was country music. There was Spanish music. There were dust, buckets, stools and dusty desk rollers. There was wax, there was clay, there was plaster. There were nude models, and Lifesavers on hot liquid bronze. There was never a ruler. Why was there never a ruler?

"Watch," Andrew the T.A. said, the first time he showed us welding. "It's kind of like magic."

Then there was that time. It was a few past midnight when we stood close and glued each other's pieces. We held them together and laughed. We teased. We ate. We worked and we didn't sleep. I loved your smell of the furnace, the crucible, the burning metal, the chipped wood. Then there was the time we smuggled wine into the gallery. It felt like forever. Yes, we were together for one whole year.

Good-bye, Pendleton 113. I will miss you.

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