Angel on the roof Sculpture

Every child sooner or later asks the question of their appearance. When I was little, I, like many other children, learned about my origins, that I was brought by storks. In my childhood mind, these graceful black-and-white birds with red-orange limbs as elegant accessories seemed strangely mysterious to me. Their appearance heralded the end of winter, and the mystical dervish dances in the sky at the end of summer filled me with awe and respect. I thought that returning from the warm countries in early spring, well-meaning shamans would complete them with oval bundles like bombers, which storks with precise and measured diving bring babies into homes like today's high-tech drones. After a while my grandmother Kalichka, who secretly baptized me from my father in the village church in the village of Krushevets, along with her stories about the creation of the world, when I asked about my appearance she told me that all people, mothers, fathers, brothers, aunts, etc. .n. they have one Creator, and his messenger is the Angel. Just as the Virgin Mary received a message from an angel sent by God for the birth of her divine son Jesus Christ. So I began to suspect that storks and angels had a common "conspiracy" to deliver babies. Naively, I began to look for commonalities between them: they had wings, their colors had some similarities, and they could be seen in the sky. But somehow it was difficult for me to connect and combine the birds that dug with their long beaks in the rural rivers for frogs and small animals for food, with the refined eating habits of the Angels to eat ruby-red pomegranate seeds. I decided that the angels wore egg-shaped white cocoons on the roofs and, so as not to make too much noise, stepped on, wearing thick woolen socks. For camouflage they use the nests of storks, so as not to disturb the daily life of people who are always in a hurry, but also because of their known shyness and delicacy. But my grandfather, who was an outspoken atheist and looked down on my grandmother's beliefs with ill-concealed disregard, often hinted and interrupted my grandmother's stories, "that these pop things were paralyzed - wind and fog." "Then tell me, Grandpa, how do babies show up then, huh?" If Grandma's story is not true, then how can I explain my appearance in the white world, where and how do we come from - from the gift bag of Santa Claus (now Santa Claus) sneaking through the chimney? But my grandfather was unyielding and hard as a Strandzha oak. His version was like a pomegranate tree growing behind a green pavilion in the yard. The cycle in nature - the tree, the bees, the sun, the water, the wind, the flowers, the fruits bring beauty and pleasure, they fall, die and again after time (again and again ....) the same eternal cycle. This "Green" always finds a way to create life or take it away - that's why it's Nature! The grandparents' families were refugees from White Sea Thrace. Maybe that's why my grandfather had pointed out the pomegranate tree, on which the Thracian goddess Cybele conceived from her contact with him. Or, as in ancient times, pomegranates were planted on the graves of great heroes in order to have numerous descendants. These trees were said to be inhabited by a special species of nymphs (dryads) and they were as pure and disembodied as the angels. Somehow I stopped here and decided that there was a connection between the appearance of the children and these images of the angels inhabiting our souls and the nymphs inhabiting the pomegranate trees that carry so much light.

Sculpture:Wood on Wood

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:7.9 W x 30.7 H x 7.1 D in

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.