It
is 12:45 PM on a Tuesday, most of New York City is finishing up
on lunch. James suppresses the hunger signals of his stomach and
tries to listen to his reason. Actually, he first tries to find
his reason and then he plans to listen to it. He awoke at 7:30
AM. He made a pot of drip coffee. He drank two cups with sugar
and milk. He attended the 8:30 AM sculpting class at the Art Students’ League.
James allocated the hour between 11:30 and 12:30 to inspirational
activities. He glanced at windows of SoHo boutiques; he observed
people resting on the benches of Washington Square Park; he skimmed
through a couple of art books at his favorite bookstore. James
begins every weekday morning with this exact ceremony. He is confident
that his morning ritual will help him accomplish a dual purpose:
refine his sculpting skills and inspire him to produce. On this
particular rainy Tuesday morning however, James fails to accomplish
his ambitious goal. He is now sitting in his studio, uninspired.
In fact, he is frustrated and ridden with heaviness. His vision
is clouded. Now he is blind to the natural beauty of life. He scratches
the top of his head to induce activity (or maybe just out of habit)
and once again becomes aware of his deeply receding hairline.
He scratches his head one more time, hoping to trigger a search
engine in his mind that locates solutions. But instead, a 30
second silent film appears in his mind. The film begins with
James’ unexpected resignation from B&H Consulting and
his abrupt departure from the home he had created with his wife
and thirteen year old daughter. It proceeds with him moving into
this studio space in SoHo, a luxury few artists can afford. This
brief flashback carries James through the past year, slowing
down as it approaches the present. It is now showing the daily
training program he has designed as a path towards becoming a
master sculptor. It goes up through this last week of progress
on his current piece and ends with this morning’s coffee
and finally his uninspiring morning stroll.
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