Slingshots with a Soul
Just lately, yes, just in these latest years, I have slowly learnt why I still go on sculpting slingshots which are apparently useless; already long time ago they lost their fundamental goal of throwing stones far away, as they are naked, without any rubber strip, any goal.
That’s it, no goal
They don’t have anything to demonstrate
They don’t have any style to follow.
It doesn’t matter which wood they are made of or where they are from.
It doesn’t matter if they are smooth, polished by the sea, the wind or simply by the time.
Most of them have been obtained by pruned branches or sometimes cut from the tree, but always from a secondary branch, as if it was pruned, but always apologizing for the trouble and thanking it.
They don’t have any need to justify themselves.
There are no limits, no clear rules… it’s just enough to take away the chips and wait for what comes out. Each cutter shot, each chip, each splinter, takes something away, a useless memory, a bothering thought, a harmful emotion.
But at the same time, between a chip and another, some pauses are added, healing silences which have the power to turn life’s dissonances into a rightful harmony.
I think that in order to perceive the magic of life, it is essential to insert such pauses in the right places, these silences, in order not to be stunned or misled by the things that life itself offers us, which too often distract us.
Slingshots always come from the fork of a branch, a tree which has obviously its own shape, thickness, big marrows, protruding branches, thorns, some parts eaten by some previous guest, unforeseeable reactions which occurs during the work.
From this branch fork you will only get what you can, adapting to its particular nature, and this apparent limits transformed into privileges, give us the maximum pleasure of making a mistake without making any mistake, of creating a unique slingshot, as unique as our life.
