Is it me?
I sit in my living room looking down at my newly broken sculpture. I worked so hard on it.
“That’s the 4th one this week.” I said to myself looking for my broom. It was a beautiful sculpture and the same one that always kept breaking, no matter how many times I tried to remake it. I found the broom by my window. It was a special window; Tinted on the outside so one could really see inside. They can only see the blurs and shadows I allowed them to see. But unlike them I could see perfectly outside.
It was what I saw outside that stopped me from my tracks. It was a little girl. She was playing in a park across the street of my house. She was sitting at a bench alone making a kite of her own. She was so excited.
“I can’t wait to see it fly.” She said eagerly putting the pieces together. Once she had finished, she got up and pulled out some string to see if the kite would fly. She threw it up as she got a running start into the wind. The kite barely went up and crashed. She tried to throw it up again but it wouldn’t fly.
“Hmm…”She grumbled. She went back to her station and tried to make a different kite. She worked even harder, even making changes to her method of kite-making. She was set. She did the same as before but this time waited for more wind. When a big breeze came she threw the kite it started to fly but the string was running out. With the wind powerful the string flew out of her hands and carried the kite with it. She watched the kite fly away. She looked like she was about to cry. She went once again back to her work station and tried a third time to make the kite. She made some more changes and when it was ready to fly she waited for the right amount of wind. She threw it up in the air. The kite flew and soar nicely. She flew it over a small river. But then the wind faded and the kite started to fall. The girl rushed to try and save her kite but she was too late. The kite sailed down the river and out of sight. Frustrated, the girl tried one last time to make the kite. She took longer and had more patience. When her fourth was completed, she took a deep breath and felt the wind pick up. It was the perfect amount. She smiled as she threw her kite in the air and watched it fly. This one lasted longer than the others. She laughed and played with her kite till the wind now became too powerful. This time she was prepared and added more string. Instead of flying away, the kite crashed into a tree. The girl ran up to the tree and stared up at her kite. She tugged on the string still in her hands and saw the kite wasn’t going to budge. She started to climb. I felt nervous for her since the tree was pretty tall. Way to tall for a little girl like her. She climbed anyway. She reached up to where the kite was and tugged on it so she could resume playing with the kite. The kite suddenly ripped on a branch falling down in pieces taking the little girl with her. The girl scrapped her knees on the tree bark and sprained her wrists from landing on them. She cried in pain and over the now shredded kite she worked so hard to make. I felt bad for her and wanted to go out and help her when a man came.
“Sweetie what happened?” I guessed it was the father. The girl looked up at him and spoke between sobs.
“I tried to make a kite daddy and the first one didn’t fly…then the second one flew away…the third one fell in the water and went down river…now this one”-she pointed to the shreds of kite fabric-“was perfect till it landed in the tree so I went to get it and I fell.”
The girl’s father helped his daughter up and sat her at her work station. He tended to her wounds and said;
“There all better.”
“No…not all better.” -The little girl said shaking her head.-“I’m a horrible kite-maker.”
“Sweetie it’s not your fault. This fabric…”-The father picked up some of the fabric and ripped it.-“see it’s weak…And this wind…”-He pointed to the sky.-“It’s not just right for a kite…You’re a great kite-maker. Lets try one last kite but this time, I’ll help you.”
“ok..” The girl said wiping the last of her tears. Both the girl and her father built the biggest kite. When they tested it, everything about it was perfect. The changes they made were just right. When the clock in the park struck four, the girl and her father called it a day.
“Thank you daddy…you know for believing in me.” Said the girl hugging her father and holding her kite proudly. Her father looked down and smiled.
“No problem sweetie…that’s what I’m here for.”
I looked away from my window and at my broken sculpture again. I felt tired and angry with myself. I kept thinking Was it my fault for not making it strong enough? Was it me that I’m not a good enough artist? Or am I just simply untalented.? But then I realized just like the little girl, maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s the clay or my burner. Maybe I am a great artist and there is nothing wrong with me at all.
I smiled at my epiphany and swept away the broken pieces of my sculpture. I then sat on my couch and a bigger question popped in my head. Where’s my “father” to help me make a new one?
“That’s the 4th one this week.” I said to myself looking for my broom. It was a beautiful sculpture and the same one that always kept breaking, no matter how many times I tried to remake it. I found the broom by my window. It was a special window; Tinted on the outside so one could really see inside. They can only see the blurs and shadows I allowed them to see. But unlike them I could see perfectly outside.
It was what I saw outside that stopped me from my tracks. It was a little girl. She was playing in a park across the street of my house. She was sitting at a bench alone making a kite of her own. She was so excited.
“I can’t wait to see it fly.” She said eagerly putting the pieces together. Once she had finished, she got up and pulled out some string to see if the kite would fly. She threw it up as she got a running start into the wind. The kite barely went up and crashed. She tried to throw it up again but it wouldn’t fly.
“Hmm…”She grumbled. She went back to her station and tried to make a different kite. She worked even harder, even making changes to her method of kite-making. She was set. She did the same as before but this time waited for more wind. When a big breeze came she threw the kite it started to fly but the string was running out. With the wind powerful the string flew out of her hands and carried the kite with it. She watched the kite fly away. She looked like she was about to cry. She went once again back to her work station and tried a third time to make the kite. She made some more changes and when it was ready to fly she waited for the right amount of wind. She threw it up in the air. The kite flew and soar nicely. She flew it over a small river. But then the wind faded and the kite started to fall. The girl rushed to try and save her kite but she was too late. The kite sailed down the river and out of sight. Frustrated, the girl tried one last time to make the kite. She took longer and had more patience. When her fourth was completed, she took a deep breath and felt the wind pick up. It was the perfect amount. She smiled as she threw her kite in the air and watched it fly. This one lasted longer than the others. She laughed and played with her kite till the wind now became too powerful. This time she was prepared and added more string. Instead of flying away, the kite crashed into a tree. The girl ran up to the tree and stared up at her kite. She tugged on the string still in her hands and saw the kite wasn’t going to budge. She started to climb. I felt nervous for her since the tree was pretty tall. Way to tall for a little girl like her. She climbed anyway. She reached up to where the kite was and tugged on it so she could resume playing with the kite. The kite suddenly ripped on a branch falling down in pieces taking the little girl with her. The girl scrapped her knees on the tree bark and sprained her wrists from landing on them. She cried in pain and over the now shredded kite she worked so hard to make. I felt bad for her and wanted to go out and help her when a man came.
“Sweetie what happened?” I guessed it was the father. The girl looked up at him and spoke between sobs.
“I tried to make a kite daddy and the first one didn’t fly…then the second one flew away…the third one fell in the water and went down river…now this one”-she pointed to the shreds of kite fabric-“was perfect till it landed in the tree so I went to get it and I fell.”
The girl’s father helped his daughter up and sat her at her work station. He tended to her wounds and said;
“There all better.”
“No…not all better.” -The little girl said shaking her head.-“I’m a horrible kite-maker.”
“Sweetie it’s not your fault. This fabric…”-The father picked up some of the fabric and ripped it.-“see it’s weak…And this wind…”-He pointed to the sky.-“It’s not just right for a kite…You’re a great kite-maker. Lets try one last kite but this time, I’ll help you.”
“ok..” The girl said wiping the last of her tears. Both the girl and her father built the biggest kite. When they tested it, everything about it was perfect. The changes they made were just right. When the clock in the park struck four, the girl and her father called it a day.
“Thank you daddy…you know for believing in me.” Said the girl hugging her father and holding her kite proudly. Her father looked down and smiled.
“No problem sweetie…that’s what I’m here for.”
I looked away from my window and at my broken sculpture again. I felt tired and angry with myself. I kept thinking Was it my fault for not making it strong enough? Was it me that I’m not a good enough artist? Or am I just simply untalented.? But then I realized just like the little girl, maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s the clay or my burner. Maybe I am a great artist and there is nothing wrong with me at all.
I smiled at my epiphany and swept away the broken pieces of my sculpture. I then sat on my couch and a bigger question popped in my head. Where’s my “father” to help me make a new one?