REPETITIONS, SECOND SERIES
The Unknown Opponent of Phidias
He knew it: the piece they expected from him he wouldn’t
give them despite all the material he had gathered over
the years, despite his technical expertise, better than that
of most others; a piece for example like the over adorned
and gigantic statue of Zeus in Olympia under the feet
of which the inscription read “work of Phidias, Charmides’
son, Athenian”
Oh, such works, with such intensity, such
expenditure, he knew it, he’d never succeed in creating;
he lacked that simplicity, the beautiful naivety of relaxed
belief which creates, with flattery, vanity, exaggeration and
sometimes with the crafty condescension, the great works
accepted by the populace, who stand around them, gaze at
them for hours, talk, eat sunflower seeds, admire them
(more so for the weight of gold and precious stones used)
they evaluate them in talents, not knowing that they were
simple coloured glass pieces, and the real precious stones
the creator had well hidden in his safe, down, deep, in
the big basement where each night he descends alone
with his guilty, trembling candle in his hand, experiencing
his death and alone he chisels his own statue, knowing
that even this one he will never complete; his only comfort:
the half-finished is common amongst the greatest works.
(And perhaps, in this statue he wasn’t alone but with
the company of the others, not the Gods, but those who
always walk, never stop, never finish).
Libros Libertad 