Even though it isn't true anymore, one day I will publish a book of photographs of sculpture entitled "I only love women with hearts of stone".
I met la Jeune Tarentine in 2003 and was entranced as long as I could stay with her. Even with the evidence of chisel marks on the plinth and her slightly stylised facial features, it was hard to believe she was not about to take a breath and roll over languidly. She may be 99 years older than me, but she will stay heart-achingly lovely long after I am dust and and can no longer remember her.
No comments:
Post a Comment