Her name was Rachel.
On her trip to Italy, she made a special point of visiting her favorite remnant of Renaissance sculpture- Michelangelo's "Statue of David". She had always felt a special attraction to this mysteriously emotional and flawless masterpiece. Photos of him had caught her eye, but nothing could prepare her for experiencing his largeness in person. No replica, drawing, or video of this sculpture compared.
Rachel paid no mind to the throngs of fanny-pack-bearing tourists weaving around her. She just stood still, her jaw hung loose. At first, her eyes jumped from one muscle curve to the clenched jaw to a relaxed calf to his intense gaze. She was surprised by his intensity and her own desire to cry. One she was past the initial shock, Rachel was able to appreciate the details of this otherworldly figure.
David's strong, lean left arm reached up, half-ready to make use of the slingshot hanging over his shoulder. His right hand rested by his thigh, loosely holding the rock he would shoot to defeat Goliath. Young, unsure eyes gazed up through a strong, furrowed brow at his opponent. His body was half-turned away from the direction he was looking. One knee was bent, as though David was stepping back, frightened. Or was he preparing to shift his weight to the front foot and confront the beast? He himself didn't seem too sure of what he was about to do. Maybe this was his moment between anticipation and confrontation.
How could something as stationary as an 18 foot block of marble be transformed to represent such an ambiguous and terrifying moment? Teetering on the edge of conquest and victory, David has no idea what the future holds for him. Rachel felt the urge to tell him, "Don't worry! I read the story, you won! Don't be scared!" He was so much larger than she had expected, yet so vulnerable. The statue appeared to be standing of its own volition, like a real human being. He could move at any moment if he wanted to. Yet he was trapped, forever frozen onto that marble base. He could not leave, even if he wanted to, just like he could not escape the Goliath. For if he rejects the reality of his marble prison, he would surely fall and break.
Rachel felt moved at the tragic and awful state of this centuries-old boy, forever in an impossible dilemma.
And what of the young man who posed for Michelangelo? Rachel pictured someone of slightly less generous proportions, but the human quality to his face could not have been invented; it must be real...
