Sisyphus & I

Why should I choose to name my endeavor after such a tragic figure? Sisyphus, according to Greek mythology, the king of Corinth and notoriously clever trickster suffered a terrible fate imposed by the gods for his trespasses against them. You may recall Sisyphus was condemned to forever roll a heavy stone up the steep slopes of a Hadean mountain side. As he would near the summit and the completion of his toils, the stone would slip from his grasp and tumble back to the valley below. Sisyphus, compelled by his assigned fate would return to the valley as well, find his stone and begin the climb again, only to fail to reach the summit once more. And so he would repeat this act for all eternity.

I myself do not identify with Sisyphus as the clever trickster. At certain rare moments of inspiration I may think myself clever, but without exception I have found I always suffer for my hubris. As a trickster, I invariably fall victim to my own pranks, which at least provide some amusement for the intended victim. Nor do I consider my life tragic, comically dramatic perhaps, but a classical tragedy certainly not. Have I angered any gods? I have probably only managed to annoy them at worst, despite my best efforts.

Where I find myself on common ground with Sisyphus is his task. The act of pushing the stone up the mountain only to awake the next day and repeat the same act is a metaphor of our daily lives. In my case the metaphor is particularly appropriate, given that stone is my media of choice. It is the stone that I relate to both metaphorically and literally. However, here I diverge from Sisyphus again, I (we) are not condemned. My toil, though tedious, has a resolution and the process (pushing the stone up the mountain) of sculpting feeds my soul. I look forward to the climb.

Why?

My origins as a sculptor begin with my interest in historic stone buildings and the hand carved elements that grace many of them. Once upon a time (when life and labor were cheaper), there were thousands of artisan stone masons about the country, anonymously applying their skill one stone at a time. Each limestone lintel, every marble cornice or column, created with the same tools and skills that built the Parthenon, each an unsigned masterpiece. Those artisans are gone and there craft virtually dead and nearly forgotten.

As a kid what they did seemed like magic, taking a 220 million year old piece of limestone and transforming it into a beautiful new form. When I attempt to recreate some of what they did, the transformation is still magic to me even now. In my lifetime it is my goal to achieve that level of skill and apply it to not only historical restorations or recreations, but to inspired contemporary stone sculptural creations.

Sisyphus’s immortality was his curse; the artisans of the past achieved a level of

immortality in their works which stand before us today. I hope that future generations find what I create in my lifetime as compelling. That is the immortality I seek.

Michael R. Tolbert