When I was an undergrad at San Francisco State, I took some fabulous art classes. One of them was a sculpture class which was assisted by Ptah*, a tall, wiry Rastafarian with a real smile.
Ptah was a graduate student. He was broke and 40-ish, and any day, any time, you could find him in the studio: helping strugglers like me, or mixing or firing the clay, or smoothing his art with his large, kind hands.
One day in class, Ptah told us to look at our works from a different perspective. From above, perhaps. Or from below. To turn it, and see it from the side.
I was making a big African head--maybe a planter?--that I thought was almost finished.
But when I turned it, I noticed that the chin and cheeks were under-defined and the nose was way too big.
It needed some serious work. Revision.
Twenty-one years later, I've been thinking about how I can apply all this to writing.
Can anyone help me pay homage to Ptah and use his advice?
*The last day of class, we found out that Ptah named himself after the Egyptian God of Creation.
FALL 2015 TOUR
1 year ago