I wish I had a picture of his hands, but I really don't have to. They're right here in front of me.
I remember marveling at the hands of the life-size stone sculptures in Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum, and then years later at the brass sculptures in Chicago's Field Museum, too. How would Michelangelo would have rendered the Klemens hands?In An American Childhood, Annie Dillard wrote a great description of how she, as a young child, was amazed at being able to push the skin on her grandmother's fingers and it would stay there, in a ridge. I'm not quite there, but close.
1 comment:
I remember marveling at my father's hands as I was a child. I have his thumbs and my mother's fingers. So there they are, a constant reminder of what I am made.
As an adult, I notice that I look for hands which are similar to my father's - worn, calloused and aging. It is in the company of people with hands like that I feel the most comfortable.
Thanks, Tom for helping me to realize this by your post.
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