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Show 75 "How would you like to cut up some home made soap for the wash-boiler?" was the leading question which launched me into the world of sculpture. To just stand and whittle soap is idiot work, especially while waiting for a #3 tub to come to a boil. I took to carving little figurines, a hand, a foot, or a head out of the dun-colored soap as I whittled it. Mama kept these products, and when Sam Moore, Uncle Joe's half brother, came from Payson he identified it as sculpture, and said I had so much talent I should be professionally taught. This advice fell on my family like a lead balloon, but I made a fond rec©llection of it. Years later, while I was nursemaid to a pair of twins named Nelson I found myself cutting soap, this time ivory, to boil their clothes. Each day I produced a new piece, and their Irish maid asked me for one, went upstairs exclaiming about her "cute little doll'.' Mrs. Nelson saw it and immediately enrolled me in a special class at the University of Utah, gave me time off to attend it, as it was only three blocks from their home. The famous painter, J. T. Harwood, was instructor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Nelson took sick and had to have major surgery, and this cut short my classes, but I was hooked by then, determined I would get back to the University for full-time study. "Enter your poem and win a prize, " was the enticing suggestion of the Juvenile Instructor, which ran a column for small authors. When I read the rules I found out it was for poets under twelve. I was past that by then, but Revo wasn't. I had a poem which I had written when |
