© David Soderberg Website under Construction
A traditional training in art might have been
interesting, if that had been possible.
My early classroom was a life lived in
But some things have never changed, like the timelessness of form. Whether musical or sculptural or poetical or mathematical or whatever, I remain a child continually surprised by the joy of form, engulfed by the vast immensity of the Grand Canyon, breathless at the Promethean leap of a stallion into the heavens of my imagination.
I have also learned, after all the museums and classes and ateliers and en plein airs and open lifes and open books, that art is nothing if it does not humbly mirror the yearnings of the human heart. And that mirroring heart is Poetry—if only we will stop to listen to it, to let it speak the Word.
I’m just saying that each one of us, whether infant or aged, is at heart a poet, an artist sculpting a canyon of meaning through the sandstone cliffs that wend inexorably onward through this world and the next.
We hike together through this high mountain desert exploring an environment of probing sensitivity. Our journey bridges endless sub-canyons of emotion and meaning that connect and intertwine to mold the Grand Canyon of Life that we live in.
That being so, the professional artist should first of all be a fellow searcher—because we all move together through this challenging adventure called life. Instead of acting the monumental hero who pretends to see everything from their wobbly perch atop a whitewashed pedestal, I would rather reach heavenward with my feet firmly planted on the wobbly clay of humility, to touch the face of Joy.
Misty Soderberg under construction
Contact Mr. Soderberg at email@example.com