I first saw her in Art History Class with Nanette. It didnt seem like such a big deal at the time, but maybe if I thought her so special to begin with I wouldnt have been as psyched when I finally encountered her here at her home.
I speak of Donatellos wooden statue of Mary Magdalene. On the art history screen she looks like a small figurine, nothing more than 20 inches tall. The detail and expression are pretty mute when put into slide form.
But now, I see her in a different light.
Shes not a figurine, shes life size. That was shock number one.
Shock number 2 was the life like quality.
I looked into her eyes, I wanted to speak to her. I thought she could hear my thoughts and could respond.
I wanted to embrace her, wanted to lock fingers, hers and mine. I wanted her to no longer suffer for her beliefs. Her hands never touch, they come close to a prayer, but theyre just mere centimeters apart. Her matted dirty hair is her clothing, I wanted to wash it for her and make her look presentable. I could see her breathe, hear her silent moans as she constantly prepared to pray. I could see as folds of her hair shifted along her shoulders and back. I could hear her old bones creak.
I looked into her eyes and FELT her look at me. I started to then just admire the craftsmanship of it all. Donatello did a hell of a job. And I swear, it was slight, but she shook her head at me. As if to say, nonono, Donatello didnt carve me. You cant carve a living being such as me.
I was completely overwhelmed. Far more than I thought I would be. She wasnt even protected by glass. She was completely open to see, to hear, to touch almost. Open to all elements. Im sure Im not the only one who has fallen in love with her on first sight, I cant have been the only person to visit her that didnt want to take her away from her sorrow and pain.
Her eyes
Her eyes spoke of unmovable faith. Her beliefs were stone, and stone they shall remain for eternity. Shes not just a woman made out of wood, shes a symbol of hope, of redemption from corrupt and sad life to one of faith, gratitude, and love.
Friday, February 6, 2009
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2 comments:
if wood could be melted and poured, across the wretched woman- if the grain ebcame fluid like the wind or loose as chocolate and folded and dripped and spread
I remember my reactions when I first saw that statue and it only dwelled on me lately that it is one of the few statues I've seen made of wood, yet I think now why aren't more made that way? Its so different, the grain does things that stone doesn't and it's more organic.
I guess thats the strongest aspect. organic.
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