Kathy Forer on mon 19 apr 04
On Apr 17, 2004, at 7:08 PM, k. sam miller wrote:
> I rejoice in the beauty of nature (i.e. creation). I rejoice in the=20=
> beauty
> of art (produced BY creations who have been blessed with abilities=20
> that are
> but a shadow of their Maker's).
I must be the slowest reader in the world, especially literature in=20
translation, I'm still reading Jos=E9 Saramago's "The Cave." One might=20=
say I'm savoring it. A dog-eared -- pristine books are not mine --=20
passage in it is particularly apt:
It is said that a long time ago a god decided to make a man out =
of
the clay from the earth that he had previously created, and =
then, in
order that the man should have breath and life, he blew into his
nostrils. The whisper put around by certain stubborn, negative
spirits, when they do not dare to say so out loud, is that after
this supreme act of creation, the god never again practiced the =
arts
of pottery, a roundabout way of denouncing him for, quite =
simply,
having downed tools. Given its evident importance, this is too
serious a matter to be treated in simplistic terms, it requires
thought, complete impartiality and a great deal of objectivity. =
It
is a historical fact that from that memorable day onward, the =
work
of modeling in clay ceased to be the exclusive attribute of the
creator and passed to the incipient skills of his creatures, =
who,
needless to say, are not equipped with sufficient life-giving =
puff.
As a result, fire was given responsibility for all the =
subsidiary
operations that can, through color, sheen or even sound, endow
whatever emerges from the kilns with a reasonable semblance of =
life.
However, this would be to judge by appearances. Fire can do a =
great
deal, as no one can deny, but it cannot do everything, it has
serious limitations and even some grave defects, for example, a =
form
of insatiable bulimia which causes it to devour and reduce to =
ashes
everything it finds in its path. Returning, however, to the =
matter
in hand, to the pottery and its workings, we all know that if =
you
put wet clay in a kiln it will have exploded in less time than =
it
takes to say so. Fire lays down one irrevocable condition if we =
want
it to do what we expect of it, the clay must be as dry as =
possible
when it is placed in the kiln. And this is where we humbly =
return to
that business about breathing into the nostrils, and here we =
will
have to recognize how very unjust and imprudent we were to take =
up
and adopt as our own the heretical idea that the said god turned =
his
back on his own work. Yes, it is true, that no one ever saw him
again, but he left us what was perhaps the best part of himself, =
the
breath, the puff of air, the breeze, the soft wind, the zephyr, =
the
very things that are now gently entering the nostrils of the six
clay dolls that Cipriano Algor and his daughter have, with real
care, just placed on one of the drying shelves. That god, a =
writer
as well as a potter, knew how to write straight on crooked =
lines,
for, not being here himself to do the blowing, he has sent =
someone
to do the job for him, so that the still fragile life of these =
clay
figures will not be extinguished tomorrow in the blind and =
brutal
embrace of the fire. When we say tomorrow, that is, of course, =
just
a manner of speaking, because if it is true that, in the =
beginning,
one puff of air was enough for the man to gain breath and life, =
many
more will be necessary before the jesters, clowns, bearded
Assyrians, mandarins, Eskimos, and nurses, those who are here =
now
and those who will later form serried ranks on these same =
shelves,
gradually lose, by evaporation, the water without which they =
would
never have become what they are, and can thus go safely into the
kiln in order to be transformed into what they will be.
=95 ISBN: 0156028794
PD:kef
kforer.com
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