Sometimes art has a life and a will of its own

Sometimes, art has a life and a will of its own. This was never clearer to me than in my current monumental sculpting project, a sculpture originally intended as a robust, chunky stallion. At around 650 pounds of clay, it stands as a massive test of patience and perseverance. Yet, despite meticulous planning and determined effort, something kept feeling profoundly off. It resisted my intentions, fought my vision, and refused to become the stallion I imagined.

Today, after yet another round of adjustments and struggles, it finally became clear why the sculpture resisted me. Emerging from beneath my hands, guided by some unseen force, was Farzana, my beloved mare who defined the past twelve years of my life with her immense personality, spirit, and profound companionship.

Farzana was never meant to be this sculpture. She left us recently, and my heart still aches deeply at her loss. Yet here she was, appearing through the clay, undeniable in her powerful presence, asserting her essence just as she always did in life. I realized the sculpture wasn’t fighting me, it was Farzana’s unyielding spirit taking shape, determined to remind me that our connection, our bond, is timeless and beyond physical presence.

So now, what started as a tribute to strength and majesty in an imagined stallion has beautifully transformed into an authentic tribute to Farzana, a mare whose strength of character outshone anything I could have imagined. Art, it turns out, is wiser than the artist, it understands the heart better than our minds ever could.

Farzana has returned to me in the most unexpected way, through the very clay that honors her memory. And in sculpting her, I find my grief slowly reshaping itself into gratitude, each stroke healing as much as it creates.