Artist

Uncut Raw Diamonds thetrilogy3.com

Consider the painter labouring for weeks and months. A brush here a stroke there exact and deliberate to express his vision
The poet agonising over which particular word expresses which particular emotion and how many ways it may be read by others
The author slaving over his masterpiece for months and years that all may be consumed with curiosity to the end
The Sculptor gazing upon the rock he envisions as something new and different to be hacked, hammered and stabbed into the vision we will all admire

They all have one crucial thing in common most of us admire their work, we are in awe of their artistry and envious of the ability and talent expressed so eloquently even if we disagree with the result eager we are to explain that its no reflection of the artist. All of them labour for weeks and months demanding the right to be as temperamental as the work demands.

The rest of us work nine to five in often sullen submission to the rules of labour. We totally understand and would be the first to acknowledge that our efforts enable us to occasionally afford a glimpse of artistry.

Consider in the darkness the man huddled over a table in a small dimly lit room, the light and its a strong one is a beam specifically directed it glares from the lamp he wears strapped to his forehead exposing the object in front of him. A dull, plain looking rock on the table is being chipped and cut into a thousand pieces. The slithers and shards are not allowed to fall to the floor he will have a use for them later and so he works head bowed over the small rock, sometimes he has time to pore over the object to study its every crease and fold but not today, he is on a deadline and so must cut shave and skim with speed, and as he does the dull rock in front of him is changing a glow is beginning and deep inside its possible to see a crystal taking shape.

The smallish rock was not considered an important one to be sure its too good for laser but not good enough for the long drawn out attention he in his secret dreams longs to give to the perfect stone. No this rock sits on a crowded table in the care of a man who is paid for speed. Even so for all the speed the apparent indifference you can clearly see the light within the rock as each tiny chip reveals the glow. A diamond is born and the workman goes home at last to admire the work of the poet, painter and sculptor.

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