To Florence From Afar
We were raised in an anti-culture—a generation trained for righteous failure. The leaders we inherited were nothing but diluters of a rich lineage, coaching us in blandness, idleness, and weakness. Their instructions: "Open the doors and step outside; let your house fill up, for you are no longer welcome except in the role of the great welcomer."
What muscles remained undeveloped? If they stayed so, we might be tricked into believing they had never existed at all. Stalling—or preventing altogether—this discovery of our inborn vigor: this was the grand hope of those who harbored none at all for us!
Miracle of miracles, a new light has shone. What strength lay dormant, what glory built up pressure within us, waiting only for the turn of a nozzle to prove itself!
Florence, Italy—I look toward you! Oh model, oh breath of light, oh fresh energy returning! Oh, twenty-first century, finally begun—and only twenty-five years late!
Many who know deep in their hearts that change is needed resist that change when it actually arrives. Why? A lack of perspective! Such a dim horizon in their minds—the best idea they can conjure of change is but a few steps further down the same path. They will resist, but only temporarily.
A new horizon dawns. New sculptures await! To build, build, build—whatever we give, may it not be an idle giving away, but a work—deep, strenuous work—that remains within our ironclad grip today and is then freely given to our children tomorrow. And not that they may recline idle within its confines, but rather that they may have a model to imitate.
We build to be built upon!
Duomo!