Sculpture, the 1st of arts, delights a taste
Still strong:each act, each limb, each bone
Are given life and lo, man's body is raised,
Breathing alive, in wax or clay or stone
But oh, if time's inclement rage should waste,
Or main, the Statue that man builds alone,
It's beauty still remains, and can be traced back to the source that claims it as its own.
This is a poem that Michelangelo wrote himself, to me I see it as his perspective on artwork and what it means to creat a work of art. How it's to give life a meaningless piece of clay, or a blank canvas, create a story and life and be able to picture the creation coming to life before you.