The Sculptor

The apprentice watched in awe as his master skillfully molded the red hot iron to an artful design. It seemed as though the master worked with some sort of divine authority over the iron and its very existence. The master looked up from his work and turned his attention to his apprentice. “Look hot lad, the fires of the forge are looking weak. Go into the market and fetch some wood.”
“Yes master,” the boy said. He swiftly gathered up some money from the soot filled shop and headed for the market.
The boy was glad to be out of the shop if only for a quick trip to the market and back. He seldom had the opportunity to escape his from his duties to his master. Being locked up in smith’s shop, it was impossible to get away from the unbearable heat and the chocking smoke; he hatred it. When he learned as a younger man that he was to become the apprentice of an old blacksmith he felt ashamed. He was ashamed at the fact that he would never do anything greater then toil for limitless hours in a hellishly hot shop.
The spring air was welcomingly fresh this morning and the sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky. As the boy walked into the market, he slowed his pace to let the wind blow through his black filthy hair. As he leisurely made his way through the dense and bustling market toward the lumber merchant he noticed a man high on a ladder contorting his way through some scaffolding surrounding a great chunk of rock. The boy stopped for a few moments to take in the strange and unfamiliar site. He had never seen such a huge mass of rock in the middle of the market before. “Excuse me sir,” he said, “what is it that you are doing with that unmanageable body of rock?”
The man allowed his attention to be taken from his work and said, “Why now, this is no mere rock my boy. This is solid marble from the northern lands. It arrived just a few days ago by ship and I haven’t much time to complete my work.”
The apprentice cocked his head in confusion and asked, “What kind of work can a man do with marble? It must have cost you a fortune to buy?”
“Yes my dear boy, it did cost a fortune, but not mine. The city magistrate purchased this here gem of sorts and hired me to craft a statue that will adorn the city gates.” Seeing a look of confusion on the boy’s face he added, “I’m a sculptor, an artist. I make art for purchase and currently the city has retained my services.”
“I see,” said the boy. He took one last glance at the gigantic mass of raw material and then went about his way to the lumber merchant’s shop.

For days the boy thought of nothing but the sculptor and that huge chunk of marble just sitting in the market square. He was amazed by the thought that something as ungainly and simple as a hunk of rock could be made into art. He wasn’t even sure if such a thing was possible. He waited patiently for an opportunity to go back to the market square and see what has become of the sculptor’s marble. Back at the shop, he was busy learning how to make various blades and cutting tools. His master often had business with the magistrate whenever the town guard needed weapons. The old master was so skilled at making blades that he once made fine cutlery for the provincial governor’s banquet table.
“Here lad, grip the iron hard and strike the edge.” The apprentice took hold of red hot iron with his wooden clamp and drew back his arm. He let his muscles contract and thrust his arm down upon the iron with all the strength he could summon. His hammer came down hard on the iron sending sparks and smoke from the hit. He gazed at where iron was struck and saw the beginnings of a sharp edge.
“Solid hit lad. Very well placed. Now turn the iron and strike the backside.” As the apprentice turned the iron he took a moment to marvel that the beautiful colors of the metal. The vibrant reds, cardinal rubies, and magenta captured his eyes. For a brief moment, he wished the metal would never cool.
“Get on with it lad. Turn and strike.” The apprentice fished the delicate turn of the iron making sure that the integrity of the tender shape was not corrupted. He set the iron on his working block and took the firm grip prescribed by the old master. Once again he drew back his arm and struck the iron with a swift, efficient arm. The apprentice lifted the iron close to his face to inspect the edge and evaluate his work. What he saw was most pleasing. The edge was well defined and sharp with absolutely no imperfections of any kind.
“You have a talent my boy,” said the old master. “You will be great smith one day; even greater then I.” The boy took in his masters comments with pride. He marveled the ability to make shape from iron. How few people he wondered, could bend iron to their will?

For the second, time the boy found himself in the market running errands for the old master. As usual, he took longer then he needed to meander through the busy place and take in all the sights and sounds. He remembered the sculptor form a few days ago and wondered what had become of that huge chunk of rock. He allowed himself to divert from his path to the lumber merchant and scan the market for the sculptor and his work.
After just a few a moments the marble came into sight. His eyes were pulled to the top of the wooden scaffolding where the sculptor had been before. The sculptor, high on the structure, had his back turned furiously making work of some minor detail. The boy let his eyes take in the rest of the marble. It was then he noticed a familiar shape in the rock. Curves, fine lines, and protrusions that seemed all too human were set in the fine stone. Curls and waves adorned the magnificent stone face. I was beautiful.
The sculptor turned and chuckled in amusement when he saw the boy in awe at the sight of his work. “I told you boy, I’m a sculptor, an artist. This is what I do. I make great and wonderful things from the stuff or normalcy. Things are not always what they seem to be. I make figures that will stand for many years longer after we all die and are forgotten. The things we create take on a life of their own.”
“Yes…they certainly do,” the apprentice said as he continued to survey the wondrous creation before him. “Just like hot iron. Like red hot iron.”