As a follow up to my last post on inspiration, I wanted to set up for everyone just how I’m inspired.
One of the other little trips Kyle set up in the last couple weeks was a trip to a local Sculpture Garden. Calling it a garden, really, is misleading. We should call it a Sculpture Farm. It’s huge.
I took pictures of many of the sculptures that really spoke to me and I’d like to walk you through a couple story ideas that came to me.
If there’s not a love triangle here, then I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. But maybe to twist the story and give it a little more depth, one of the love interests could be the forgotten maid in the background? Or perhaps the lack of interest in the nude woman is what’s interesting — after all, neither man seems to be paying her the slightest bit of attention.
This has to be the setting for an ancient fantasty– a springtime witch ritual, yeah? Or perhaps a fable about some wanton young women turned to stone by their Deity after committing some sort of crime (like dancing naked in the moonlight?).
This was called the 9 muses (or something like that). All of the muses were half-formed, misshapen. The poetry you could write about how beauty, like creativity, so easily slips through your fingers (especially when you try to hard to shape it to what you want it to be). It cracks. Misforms. Elludes you entirely.
This guy has to be the star of some comic science fiction space journey. He’s a brilliant alien, capable of going in all sorts of directions. I rather think that the place he came from had significantly less gravity than we do– otherwise, how would you move all those limbs with any sort of grace?
And we’re back to the maid of the first image. She really struck me for some reason. Not because she’s particularly beautiful. I think because I love how stagnant and still and picturesque the scene around her is. I love the algae growing on her hem, the leaves sitting in the water. I think this could make a really lovely literary story about beauty and how it doesn’t necessarily always mean perfection, but sometimes just means…rightness.
Jessi Cole Jackson 