The Beautiful Magnificent Hands of a Carver

Above image: William Palmer, artwork done within the last ten years


When my father lived in Greece, he found old wood and marble and began to carve large, abstract forms that fit together like perfectly balanced statues.Up until last summer he continued to carve wood sculptures in his make shift studio in Phoenix, AZ. When he no longer had the strength to carve, he spent most of his time in his room, surrounded by his papers, books, pencils and paints and drew the pieces he could no longer carve. Once he became too weak to work at his drafting table, he taped his drawings onto his bedpost in order to study them and find their meaning. My father now lies in his hospice bed, quiet and small but with the beautiful, magnificent hands of a carver.

My parents raised me to believe, to know, that art is not a frivolous pursuit but rather a life affirming endeavor. How does space dictate the work we create? Do our surroundings encourage or discourage growth or change within our creative pursuits? No matter where my father was, he always made, always created as if he did not have a choice, he had to create. Art was his life affirming endeavor.