Today Luc and Kirk are joined by sculptor Kelsy Landin. Make sure to follow her on Tiktok @landinart where she has become very popular creating videos of the sculpting process. Instagram she is @landinofficial and youtube Landin Art.
Luc chose a spectacular statue to surprise us with. All three of us discussed various aspects of the sculpture as well as its artistic meaning. At first, it was not obvious how it fit into the topic of "Self-creation" but after exploring the work with Luc, we saw a very unique and important aspect of creating the self that many of us do not consider.
The poem showed a contrary view to the idea of Self-creation, which gave the three of us much to contemplate.
Enjoy this special episode of Surprised by Art, and visit troubadourmag.com to view all the of artworks from different angles, and to read the poem.
We discussed this sculpture created by Kelsy Landin. You can see more of Kelsy's work here.
Below is the painting chosen by Luc Travers. We recommend that you take a moment and look at the painting for yourself.
Give it a title. Doesn't matter if you are correct. Just think, what is the first word that comes to mind first?
Then, give a literal description of everything in the painting.
In the show, we have various audience members doing exactly this, and if you listen to them this can help give you ideas on how to accomplish this investigation.
Lastly, interpretation. You can do your best on your own or listen to Luc and Kirk's exploration.
Ok here comes the painting! Remember: DO NOT WORRY ABOUT THE ARTIST'S NAME OR THE TITLE OF THE ARTWORK UNTIL AFTER YOU SEE THE PAINTING!
Rebellious Slave by Michelangelo
The Westerner
By Badger Clark
My father’s sleep on the sunrise plains,
And each one sleeps alone.
Their trails may dim to the grass and rains,
For I choose to make my own.
I lay proud claim to their blood and name,
But I lean on no dead kin;
My name is mine, for the praise or scorn,
And the world began when I was born
And the world is mine to win.
They built high towns on their old log sills,
Where the great, slow rivers gleamed,
But with new, live rock from the savage hills
I'll build as they only dreamed.
The smoke scarce dies where the trail camp
lies,
Till the rails glint down the pass;
The desert springs into fruit and wheat
And I lay the stones of a solid street
Over yesterday's untrod grass.
I waste no thought on my neighbor's birth
Or the way he makes his prayer.
I grant him a white man's room on earth
If his game is only square.
While he plays it straight I'll call him mate;
If he cheats I drop him flat.
Old class and rank are a wornout lie,
For all clean men are as good as I,
And a king is only that.
I dream no dreams of a nurse-maid state
That will spoon me out my food.
A stout heart sings in the fray with fate
And the shock and sweat are good.
From noon to noon all the earthly boon
That I ask my God to spare
Is a little daily bread in store,
With the room to fight the strong for more,
And the weak shall get their share.
The sunrise plains are a tender haze
And the sunset seas are gray,
But I stand here, where the bright skies blaze
Over me and the big today.
What good to me is a vague "maybe"
Or a mournful "might have been,"
For the sun wheels swift from morn to morn
And the world began when I was born
And the world is mine to win.
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