“A LONG DAY”
I find that it’s lazy folks who complain of sleep disorders. Chase cattle from the top of a horse all day, hoe cotton ‘til your blisters have blisters, spend a ten hour shift wrestling boulders into a rock crusher, get up at 4a.m. and ride 2 hours in the back of a pick-up truck – just to get to work, and tell me your sleep isn’t sweet! I know of what I speak.
I get that it’s work to pound computer keys all day and experience the mental stress of ‘executive decisions’ – yet, something is lacking. Assist me in putting my finger on it please. Is there a nobleness to be found in the piston like movement of a man with a shovel? Do you see, as I, a profound honesty in calloused hands – hands that couldn’t be made to appear clean if they were washed for and hour?
I now spend my days working with clay, my hands are soft and my studio is warm. However, I salute my brother in the back of the work truck getting ‘weathered on’, we are kin.