s c u l p t u r e s - n o m i n

조각하다

It was already November when he decided to carry out the mission he had been planning for months, and his fear swirled in the form of steam in the large windows of the workshop.

After scrubbing a bit his already unpolluted apron, he filled himself with a probably invented courage and subtly pushed the workshop door. He entered the shop, trying to make as little noise as possible, with feet of lead and head down.

When he lifted his head up, he could not contain the sigh that formed on his lips.

The interior was way much more impressive than he had guessed from outside the cold-crazed glass.

In the main room you could appreciate an elaborate marble floor, like a crude imitation of a chess board, which tended to make the unsuspecting customers dizzy. In addition, as a decoration, several black and white sofas were spread all over the room, in an apparently random disposition; which, I assumed, intended to emphasize the effect of pawns and bishops.

Heads, legs, marble hands swirled and mingled in the translucent doors that separated the shop from the studio. Cold imitations of people, frozen in time, hieratic. He could almost feel the cold gazes pressing against the back of his neck, trying to get hold of the emotions that their marbled bodies did not allow them to feel.

With a slight clang of glass, the owner, whom he had spent so much time admiring, appeared in the workshop door.

Tall, robust, with nimble hands and face almost as sculptural as the statues themselves, and equally cold, was now looking at him with those dark eyes that seemed the only human feature in him.

-Do you need something, sir?

Filled with courage again, he managed to pronounce:

-I w-would like to l-learn from you- he said, almost looking like a tomato and lowering his head- but only if it's alright with you, s-sir.

When he raised his head again, he found his eyes locked with the owner's eyes, now colder, watching him without any sign of emotion.

-Seems fine to me. As long as you don't bother, you can watch. What's your name?

-Jaemin.- he quietly mumbled.

-Alright Jaemin, let's go straight into the workshop.

And with this kind invitation, Jaemin undertook his dream.

Days went by, and so did the weeks, while Jaemin contemplated, astonished, how Jeno's hands -he discovered that was his name- carved on the icy stone faces full of pain, joy or sadness, according to the inclination of his chisel.

It was on the fifth day of the sixth week since Jaemin accompanied Jeno when the older asked him to carve something to show if his training had really had any effect.

When Jaemin took the chisel with insecure fingers and applied it to the stone, he felt some kind of heat on top of his hands.

Innocently, Jaemin realized that Jeno had placed his hands on top of his to guide the movement of the chisel.

Jeno had always been stern with Jaemin, but since the innocent young man had entered that abandoned studio, it was as if the sun itself had sneaked through the door melting all barriers of ice and granite that the sculptor had placed between his workshop and the real world.

Once Jaemin had propitiated his first accurate blow on the block of stone, everything became easier, and he discovered, to Jeno's astonishment and delight, that his hands could be as agile as those of the sculptor himself. He found himself carving a face streaked with tears without the slightest difficulty.

-You're actually better than I had expected- said Jeno, trying to hide his smile.

-Well, that might be because I have the best teacher in the world- it was the naturalness with which he said it, that left Jeno speechless.

-Jeno, why do you do this? - Asked Jaemin.

-This, what?

-Sculpting. Why do you sculpt?

-I don't know. I have never liked sculptures.

Jaemin could not believe what he heard. Jeno, the person whom he admired for the complexity and delicacy of his works, admitted that he didn't like sculptures.

-But...why?

-Every time I finish, or even contemplate, a sculpture, it seems to me that inside the stone, enclosed between layers of stone, lies its soul, fighting to get out of his prison. I think they are souls who were too weak to endure this world, or simply remind me of people who, eager to capture a unique moment, suddenly fulfill their desire and find themselves locked in a marble coffin.

-And then, why do you sculpt?

-Every person must face their own fears, don't you think so?

-That's it?

- It may also be the family business ... - then, as if it did not fit there, a smile appeared on his face. A smile that, despite the failed attempt to make him laugh, managed to melt Jaemin's heart.

° ° °

The next day, when Jaemin appeared in the doorway, Jeno came out nervously from behind the counter wearing a wide smile which seemed a bit shy. He then took out from the pocket, carefully sculpted, a marble rose, whose frozen beauty filled the younger's eyes with salty drops of water that looked like the frozen dew of the rose.

Looking at each other in the eyes, they understood all the things flowing between them which could not be put into words, and Jaemin, still a little self-conscious, took the rose with only one hand, while with the other he grabbed Jeno's neck to bring him closer and engage their lips together.

Jeno returned the kiss intensely, dropping the chisel to the ground to cup Jaemin's cheek with one hand, while with the other he clutched his waist tightly.

Both of them wanted that moment to maintain intact so strongly, they wanted to be able to enjoy that kiss forever so desperately, that they only felt a cold shiver before the whole studio became silent.

° ° °

Two hours later, when some customers entered the store and weren't able to find any attendant, they could not do anything but admire that beautiful statue of two lovers lost in a kiss and wonder if it was for sale.

What even is this.