The Sculptor

The Sculptor

         When she finished meditating, Jenny McIntyre remained still in the sunlight as it streamed through the window and warmed her back. Today was going to be her special day, the day she would win the Inaugural Colin Reaks award for Australian Sculpture.
         She knew she would win it. She had been told with a tingle and flutter in the area of her solar plexus chakra during her morning meditation. This was the yellow chakra, her favourite colour and a colour she favoured when sculpting.
         Last night, in celebration of her assured victory, Michael had shared one of his oysters with her. Of course as a top sculptor, oysters weren't a part of her diet, but half of one was okay on a special occasion such as this. She would normally wait until the competition was over, but as he was leaving straight after dinner for three weeks she made an exception.

         Jenny had always known that she would be a top sculptor, she had known it in her heart from a young age. Today, in the course of the competition, she would satisfy that knowledge with a piece of work that would expand and stretch her place in the annals of the art world.
         After all, this was the 22nd century and artists were now valued not just in Europe but here in Australia and right across the globe. No artist with real talent, from any of art’s disciplines, would have to go through what the painters Van Gough or Pollock had to in previous centuries, or even what Matka the sculptor endured in 2122.
         The populations' consciousness had expanded with each leap forward in technique and display. People felt the dynamism of The New Discipline and they were grateful to the artists for the beauty they brought forth.

         Sitting in her repose, Jenny reflected on the first time that she saw a modern sculptor at work.
         It was while she was with her parents who had been visiting some social climbing friends of theirs. Jenny had been five or six years old, when she’d stood fascinated as a man sculpted in a purpose built alcove within the entrance hall. Even though he hadn’t finished his creation, Jenny had been struck with wonder.
         There is no doubt the owners would have later installed lighting and magnifying mirrors, on the walls and roof, to truly bring the piece to life and reveal its subtle layers. Mirrors and lighting had been, and still are, all the rage amongst those who could afford them. One had to admit that they did enhance a sculpture’s appeal. The New Discipline did deserve more than a marble pedestal.
         Her mother had pulled her away from the creation and its maker with the words "don't bother the genius at work". Genius. The sound of that word had left its imprint with Jenny. Too young to fully grasp its meaning, she had equated it with the word genie (knowing all about them from her fairy tale books). This wasn't a bad analogy really. Sculptors and genie were both conjurers; magicians of sorts.
         The owners of the house, the Roses, had been making a statement about their place in the structure of society to the McIntyres. They had been able to afford an original with a purpose built display area to show it off.
         Jenny remembered her father in the car on the way home, saying to her mum that the Roses had "made it". To Jen’s young mind it was the artist who had "made it" and not the buyers. Jenny smiled now at the truth and irony of that thought.
         Anyway, at the time all she had known was that a genius was someone that adults deferred to, bowing in front of their creative prowess. It was then that Jenny had wanted to be a sculptor. She had wanted to have that power. More than that, she had known that she could also create fabulous works of beauty. The seed had been sown.

         From then til now; in preparation for moments such as today's inaugural competition; Jenny had studied The New Discipline. Her parents had been obliging. They hadn’t impeded her and they had given her encouragement now and then. They had wanted all of their children to choose their own path in life, even if sculpting had seemed to be an unsustainable lifestyle. They knew that only the truly talented would be able look back and say that they had "made it".
         Her parent’s faith in her was justified and they were proud that she pursued such a noble calling. Everyone knew it was modern sculpting that had helped to bring peace to the world. It was the study of The New Discipline that had taught everyone we were all the same on the inside. People's attention and desire for fighting and waging war, had been turned to an understanding of the oneness of humankind. More and more each piece, as it had been studied and displayed, opened up the realisation in everybody that they were connected to one another regardless of culture, economics or politics, until finally it dawned… All were One.
         The New Discipline, as it became known, had begun as a ripple in the global unconsciousness, a ripple that turned into a wave of thought and feeling. This wave cleansed the global mind of the old prejudices. Sculptors shaped a new paradigm, one that gave expression to people’s inner beauty. Works were produced that blew minds. No one had been left untouched; from the streets of New York to the plains of Kenya and everywhere in-between.
         When people in the sculpting community had realised that a new movement was under way, guilds were formed across the globe that were then linked together to create a global conduit, bringing forth and highlighting this momentous occasion in human affairs. It had been an international motion that was so simple and yet so profound.

         It was because art’s new discipline was so profound that Jenny wanted to make all of her work accessible to the public.
         While some of her contempories filled the demand of private collectors, people with the dollars to pay them and to build the display areas needed to showcase and capture the modern art form, Jenny felt it was a form of prostitution and a disservice to the originators of the discipline. She had even heard that the great Feceas had hired himself out as an artist in residence to the Millard family, the ring tone moguls, on a two-year tenure! Ooeewww, she thought, what was he thinking?!

         Today, Jenny would bring honour back to the art form. This was the day of competition for the Inaugural Colin Reaks Award for Australian Sculpture. Winning first prize was the highest achievement an artist could attain, and, traditionally, a launching platform enabling one to dive head first into the international world of The New Discipline.
         Jenny had spent her entire life training for this. She was always true to the ideals of the art form. She was conscientious and focused. She had nothing on her mind but the job at hand, able to block out the minutiae of life, relax and let the work virtually produce itself.


         The Competition

         At the National Gallery in Canberra, all of Australia's leading sculptors were present, except for Toolongo Manawy who was unable to participate due to a terrible case of the piles.
         Artists had twenty-four hours to produce their finished work. Clare Nguyen from the Pilbara in WA, working in total nudity and beginning with a spiral pattern, began sculpting right on the dot; obviously she was going to use the full twenty four hours to sculpt from beginning to end. Jenny was scornful of Nguyen's pieces, thinking her eagerness showed in the final product. It was the subtle layers that spoke to the judges. Nguyen was no threat to her.
         The rest of the artists, in their various stages of undress depending on how they liked to work, were still meditating, contemplating and using visualisation techniques.
         By two p.m., half the entrants had begun sculpting or at least assumed their starting postures, some lying face up or face down, some squatting, Frank Belliarmi even standing on his hands. Jenny waited patiently thinking what a show off Frank was.
         Five years ago he had shat out a copy of Rodin’s Thinker and started a mini reproduction craze. People began sculpting the classics in The New Discipline, from Michelangelo’s David to neo millennium works by Matko and her contempories. Some dickhead had even shat the fucking ‘yellow peril’, an obscure work from the late 20th century famous for its ugliness. Not even The New Discipline could improve that design.

         Six p.m. came around and only Robin Tenterfield and Jenny McIntyre hadn't begun sculpting. By eight p.m. Jenny could see what most people were trying to do. Some abstract, a couple of portraits.
         She was keeping a close eye on David Kipfler. That bastard was full of surprises. Just when you thought you knew all there was to know about one of his creations, a new interpretation you hadn't heard before was put forth that made it even more appealing. Already Jenny could see that what he was working on was going to be a complex and dynamic arrangement.
         She could see James Nolan from Brisbane was making a statement about the gorillas' relationship and impact on the Great Barrier Reef. Boring! Thought Jenny.

         At midnight, Jenny assumed her position. She was stripped to the waist except for her knee-high boots. These were made from the finest red ochre dust. Her mother had bought these for her in Antarctica last year and tonight she was wearing them for luck.
         With one leg raised and the judge’s final decision in mind, Jenny began to sculpt as she had never sculpted before. Truly! She had never sculpted like this before! Something was wrong. Extremely wrong. Shit was dribbling down her legs and into her boots.
         This wasn't right! She was pernickety about her diet and training. Her colon was in tiptop shape. Her visualisation techniques kept her intestines in superb condition.
         Focus Jenny, focus! Jenny tried to bring her thoughts back to the now. It worked a little. Shapes were forming but the whole piece had no structure.
         By two am she knew she was fucked. There was a big mess that she would have trouble explaining. The judges and other entrants were obviously aware it wasn't what Jenny had in mind, but what did that matter now? And the people watching on the net!? How humiliating!
         By ten thirty am it was all over. Jenny left in embarrassment. She caught a taxi home and wasn't surprised to see Michael in bed vomiting into a bucket. She took two aspirin and lay down on the couch. That fucking oyster. Nguyen won first prize.



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Word count - 1800