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Show 242 "I don't intend to give up sculpture, " I assured him. "You have given it up, " he said. And he was right, to a degree. I took my lump of clay when I left school in March. I dabbled at it, ineffectually, moving from place to place. In Joseph I had made a bust of Aunt Fernnie, Papa's half-sister, now in her dotage, and had sent it to Salt Lake City to be exhibited with Relief Society things. Aunt Fernnie, a veteran temple-worker, was known the length and breadth of the State. "Why! That's Aunt Fernnie! " said many when they saw it, and these remarks were duly reported to me. I also did one of "Jimmoore" my cousin, whose rock-like features resembled those of "Perry Mason" for his adoring and grieving widow. It too was a readily recognizeable likeness. I made other things, figurines, statuettes, features, and my clay was never left in lump form, but always in process of becoming something. Mr. Harwood had taught me the rudiments of casting before I left school, but such activities were pale things beside the ultimate creating of living forms. The ultimate creation when all is said and done, the ultimate satisfaction, but there is a time for all things, and the season of child-bearing is short, finished for me, nine short of my self-set goal of twelve! The other nine had to come from somewhere. At the same time I was studying poetry and short story with Cleone I noticed it was less than a block from the studio of Torlief Knaphus, the creator of "The Handcart Company, " now on Temple Square. |
