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A hot wind blows across the desert. Bombs plummet to the earth with deadly force. A sculptor hunches over his work. In his mind ... an image of an ice-cold being breathing fire onto the desert. He is working with rock crystal and 18 karat yellow gold.
We travel--encapsulated in time and space where all things are possible--directly from our world into the synaptic mind of the artist. We have no boundaries. We are disembodied. Minds without substance. We are privy--for this one time--to view--in the unique perspective of spectator--the intricate machinations of the creative process.
He ... the artist ... the sculptor of the highest order ... goes by the name of David Hensel. He is formulating his thoughts. They are random. Snippets of the mind ... wandering ... colliding ... forming ideas. This sculpture will be a response of sorts ... emanating from his soul ... to the U.S. bombardments in the Middle East. Yes. It is there ... waiting with patience for birth. A solid being ... ice-cold ... breathing fire onto the desert. Ruach--a Hebrew word with many meanings: Breath ... Wind ... Air ... Soul ... mind ... and more. The Spirit of God will be the name of the creation. It's origins ... who knows ... perhaps Genesis ... where the spirit of God moved over the surface of the water.
So listen. Have you ever seen David Hensel's work? Not to be believed. Drop-dead knock-out gorgeous. None of this take a bucket of paint and splash it against a canvass and then sell the drippy splotch for a hundred grand. Or sketch out a can of Campbell Soup and be declared artist of the century. No shortcuts. No hiding behind hype. No bullshit in fact. No explaining to a mouth- agape world that art is crap and crap is art. All this ... ladies and gennulmen ... my opinion only. Who was it ... I'm not sure ... Einstein perhaps ... that said something to the effect that the ultimate ego is one able to express modesty ... for only the most talented and self-assured have the ability to wear that mantle. Hensel's work speaks of this sort of talent.
So there it is. A tribute to a man I've never met ... with whom I communicate once every two or three years ... whose work I discovered some time ago while looking for something for Tidbits ... and who I revisit every once in a while to see what's come out of his mind. Incredible folks. Go. Go look. See. Absorb. Breathe in. You ain't gonna see another one like him again for some time
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And there ya have it. That's it for this week folks. Catch you all next week. Benjamin Mark
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