My best friend and artist/sculptor Mike made this of me–a portrait of my madness. He says it’s not
quite finished yet, a few more fixes and then firing it and glazing… He was inspired to make it after I explained to him what it was really like to be psychotic, and he made it for me. When I saw it I cried pretty good. No one knows me in the way that he does. I’ve written about him before in poems and essays (check out my essay on him: Matters of Time and my poem: Mike)–the artist with severe rheumatoid arthritis (has had many major joints replaced: knees, hips, shoulders…) and he’ll be putting
2 thoughts on “A Sculpture of Me”
He seems to be a very talented guy. And though that’s an image of you born out of your pain, what an honor to have someone care enough to create this for you!
Beautiful. And in a way it portrays a part of all of us. A powerful picture of the extreames of emotion…