A seamstress’ hands are the channel through which a new world is created.
Casey's story: A baby discovers the world with his mouth. An adult moves the world with his hands.
With this in mind, when I was 20 years-old my father dispatched me and my camera with the creative dream - "Photograph their hands, son. Find the farmers, the carpenters, the mechanics, the accountants, the seamstresses, and the musicians. Find them and photograph their hands." Among many photos, this photo of decaying statue outside struck me as the most poignant. It was a cloudy day and I was traveling around with some new found friends. These friends, Leonard Damonte and Laura, took me to Laura's sculpting studio. Outside the studio, rotting amongst the overgrowth of the Greater Buenos Aires, was a group of plaster statues. This life-sized statue stood with interlaced hands.
The statue's hands were at peace, not war. They were covered in marks and scars, but not those of the fight. They were covered with the scars of experience and the marks of a life of learning. The daily grind tired the hands, but did not break them. And, perhaps unintentionally, the accumulation of all this experience and learning created a work of art.
Do your hands move the world? At the end of the day, when your hands go to rest, what is left? Is your legacy a work of art?