È Stato Creato

It’s so…dark. Where am I? What am I? Do I actually exist? Am I alive? Could I be dead? I guess if I was dead, that proves I existed. What if I’m just dreaming? I hear something. It’s getting closer. What is that sound? I don’t recognize it. I wonder what it could be? Is it something, someone, like me? Is it friendly? I wonder if it could tell me what I am? Who I am?

I struggle to open the door into the studio. My hands have gone numb from the years of abuse they’ve taken but, that is the cost of doing what I do. And I’d pay it a hundredfold to do it for just a little while longer. This will be my last and final piece. I fear my hands will be of no use to me before long. This will be my legacy. My David. My Venus de Milo. My Pietà. After entering through the door, Victor eyes his perfect piece of marble. His mind going through each and every step of the sculpting process before he even starts. He picks up his mallet and his favorite chisel. “So it begins.”

Victor starts the slow methodic process that made him fall in love with art to begin with. The process of chipping away at, what would be, his final piece. A little here. A little there. Never taking away too much as to prevent removing something that he wouldn’t be able to put back. This is what his life was ment for, and he knew it. The life of an artisan was often lonely, and quiet and full of judgments but, Victor didn’t care. He loved to be alone, he enjoyed the quiet and he thrives on being judged.

Seconds turned to minutes, turned to hours, turned to days, to months. Victor was in no hurry to finish this last piece. He had to make sure it was perfect in every way. Every detail. Every piece. Perfect.

Starting from the bottom of the sculpture slowly making his way up. The base was complete. He was able to add in the most minute details. He wanted to show that the person the sculpture was depicting had no easy life. A life of punishment and hard labor. A life that had to do whatever he had to do in order to provide a life for himself and for his family. Just as many people have to do.

I no longer feel in pain. I feel, what I could only describe as, lighter. I no longer fear that thing that started to hurt me all that time ago. I actually have begun to enjoy it. The sound it makes. Something that is high pitched and melodic as it bangs away and takes pieces away from me. It has become a constant that I no longer fear is going away. Finally, no longer alone or afraid. I actually think it is helping me. I only wish I’d be able to thank it.

I wonder how long I’ve been in this place. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to leave. Will I ever be free? Maybe at some point. Maybe I’ll be able to see and thank the thing that, I’m beginning to believe, is actually a friend maybe? I don’t think it’s intention was to hurt me. I think, perhaps, it is trying to help me.

I believe I could possibly be about 75% of the way through. I’ve got the base up to the bottom of his chest done. Starting tomorrow, I’ll go back and add in some smaller details before I begin to focus on his head. I’m honestly still unsure about how to make him look but, like all the best artist, I’ll let the marble talk to me and go wherever my chisel takes me.

It’s been nearly a year. Thousands of hours spent, steadily and consistently taking pieces of the statue away. No wrong moves show that Victor isn’t only a hobbyist, but one of, if not the best, modern day sculptist. A person that is not only able to make a beautiful statue but, be able to tell a story that shows through the statue. A story so detailed that you’d feel as if the person he depicts was real. That the person really lived the life that is coming through the piece.

I’ve learned that it, is not an it. It is a he and his name is Victor. Why does that sound familiar? Why does it sound as if I’ve heard that name before? Now that I think about it, I feel like I’ve heard this voice before? The sound is getting louder. He must be getting closer. I still wonder if I’ll ever be able to see him. To thank him for freeing me from…wherever this is.

Well, my friend, our time is coming to an end. Now that I’m starting on the head, I truly believe it won’t be long. I’ve already chipped away the bulk of the marble and have a pretty close to final shape for your head but now I need to add in the details and, most importantly, finish your story. I do suppose I should think of what to call you?

The sound is right there. I feel as if I could reach out a grab him. I’m so close to being free. I’m beginning to hear sound of the outside world. Noises passing by making a louder, deeper, not as pleasent version of the song Victor makes. Children laughing and playing. Birds singing and trees rustling. I can’t wait to be able to see it. To see him.

As Victor begins to finish the statue, he begins to chisel out the eyes. Perfect in every single way. He adds in so much detail that you can see the sadness and stress from the life he, the statue, lived. You can almost see the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. They are in Victors.

I’m seeing light! I’m beginning to see outside! What is this sense I’m having? Why does everything look familiar? Why do I feel as if I’ve seen this all before? That can’t be possible, can it? Have I?

And with one final strike, Victor takes a step back and admires his final piece. The piece that will take him from locally known, to a world renowned artist. The likes of which no one has seen before.

Now, what will I call you? How about… Stesso Vita.

The mallet and chisel fall from Victors hands as he collapses

It’s so…dark. Where am I? What am I? Do I actually exist? Am I alive? Could I be dead? I guess if I was dead…

THE END