Upon turning fifty, one does not stop and begin waiting.  Nor should one begin waiting at seventy, for what, eighty?  At ninety, then what?


I’ve produced a number of miniature sculpture models, some as mere sketches on paper, some as 3-dimensional pieces intended to be reproduced in stainless steel at 30-foot heights.


This summer I produced one, only at about six-feet to stand in my garden during all sorts of weather—not in metal but should serve also as a model for the larger 30-foot one.  It may appear as metal but its intended height would add a tremendous beauty and perspective.


Re-produced in steel to their actual 30-foot heights, they are intend to stand at the edge of the pavement next to streets in suburbs and small towns and even in cities and city parks, inspired initially by my urban designer intensions to give urban scale to these settings.


This last one was in my hands for over three weeks in actual time over a three-month period of carving and contemplation.  I produced all of it.  I created an abstract form, unique in beauty, with no other thing like it in the whole universe.


I can now claim that I’m a sculptor, intending to produce 10 more at this early stage of my creative efforts.  The one or two that I shall do this winter will be indoors, absent the natural beauty and water setting.


I’m not waiting.  For in the business of creating beauty, God enters and partners the inspired soul.


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